Forbidden knowledge (standard:drama, 2641 words)
Author: Lev821	Added: Jan 07 2011	Views/Reads: 3147/1884	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A doctor who tells all about his patients to a psychic for money is about to be tested.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

figure of a man who looked at him with big dark blue eyes full of hope, 
hope that the doctor was the answer to all his ailments, and ailments 
he had plenty of, but they could all have been cured by the 
supermarkets own-brand of medicines and remedies on the shelves. Mr 
Simmons, 52, wore a long dark coat, beneath which he wore pyjamas. It 
seemed he almost wanted to be admitted to hospital, as he seemed the 
ideal patient, if only he had something worth going in for. He had a 
sore back, was constantly snivelling into a handkerchief, had various 
sores all over him, and occasional pains. Karl was convinced he was 
simply paranoid, and would be better served if he was to see a 
psychologist. He thought that he would refer him the next time he would 
come in, which he knew would be soon. He wrote him his prescription and 
Mr Simmon's face broke into a smile, and soon the door was closing 
behind him. 

He typed a few notes on the computer, then put his file back in the
cabinet. Before he sent for the next patient, he opened the drawer 
beside him and took out a sudoku puzzle magazine. He'd already had one 
half filled in. He completed it, put it back, then sent for the next 
patient. 

Mr Oakes slowly made his way up the stairs, knocked on the cheap white
door and waited. He was small and stocky, 52 years of age, wore 
ill-fitting jeans and a white shirt with uncombed, unkempt hair. He 
looked ten years older than what he was. “Come in,” came a muffled 
voice. He entered, and Neil stood up and came around the table to shake 
his hand. “Nice to see you. This is your first time, yes?” Bernard 
Oakes nodded. “I've come for my reading. I wondered if you could tell 
me what my future holds”. “That'll be fifteen pounds” Neil said. 
Bernard took out his wallet and produced a twenty pound note. “Have you 
got change?” Neil's face turned sour slightly. He took the note and 
walked across to the chest of drawers in front of large crimson 
curtains draped across half of the room, cordoning it off, leaving the 
main area by the large windows where the readings would take place. He 
rummaged through the top drawer and returned with a torn, sellotaped 
five pound note, and a painted smile. 

A few minutes later, they were sat at a round, sap green draped table,
Neil gazing into the crystal ball almost transfixed. Even though most 
of the clients wanted their futures read, Neil would often tell them 
about themselves, and it would usually work. Although their future 
would not be made much clearer, they would leave happy in the knowledge 
that Neil was right, that he had paranormal insights and gifts. 

“I'm getting a pain” he said, “A pain in my leg. No...my knee. My knee.
It's..It's caused by a sport. I see white. You were wearing white when 
it happened”. Neil looked up at Bernard whose face was that of 
surprise. He nodded. “Yes. Squash. I got it playing squash”. “Yes, 
that'll be it”. Neil gazed back into the crystal ball. “I also see, 
something inside your lungs. Are you a smoker Mr Oakes?” 

After half an hour Mr Oakes left the place with a beaming smile. His
future involved a new job as a gardener. It meant no or few regulations 
when it came to smoking. He would be outdoors so could light up 
whenever he wished, and Neil always liked it when a client left happy. 
It meant they would probably return, as a lot of them did. He usually 
simply told them similar information to what he had said before, but 
worded it in such a way that they thought he was telling them new 
information. He basically had nothing much else to say to regulars. 
Their information was kept in the drawers, reviewed before an 
appointment, and spun out to them in such a way as to make them think 
he had inside knowledge and prophetic foresight. 

If he had been a smoker, he would have lit up. Instead, he looked into
the crystal ball, and frowned when he saw what looked like glittering 
stars swirling around. He looked closer and they brightened and then 
cleared to reveal an image of himself with a knife in his back. He was 
on the floor, crawling through a carpet of money. Karl was there also, 
picking it up and throwing it into the air. He then turned and looked 
out at Neil, and grinned with jet black, piercing eyes. The image 
faded, the lights returned, and then they too faded to leave what he 
usually saw when he looked into the ball. Distortion. 

He stood up, backing away from it as though it had become a big spider.
“He's going to betray me” he said to himself. “That's true. I can feel 
it”. He genuinely believed it, and he also wondered if he had real 
powers. Do I really need the doctor? he thought. Perhaps I really do 
have a gift. 

He wondered if he should test the doctor's trust. Give him a morsel to
grab his attention and see how much of a friend he was. 

“If you could put your clothes back on now Mrs Haversham” said Doctor
Sebastian, I'd be most grateful, he thought. Mrs Haversham was 73, was 
practically wrinkled all over, as though gravity was having more of a 
pull on her. She was small, and had dark grey hair pulled back in a 
bun. “Thank-you doctor,” she said, putting on her skirt. Karl wondered 
why she had taken half of her clothes off simply for him to examine to 
small of her back and her hips. She even declined to go behind the 
screen. “I've got nothing to hide,” she had said, winking at him. Yes, 
you have, Karl had thought. She was simply complaining of pains in 
those areas, and an examination had revealed nothing unusual. He had 
put his stethoscope on her pale chest, her black bra seemingly loose, 
not even holding anything of any substance, just large, empty wrinkles 
as far as he could see. He wondered if she was hoping for more of a 
thorough examination. He had seen far too much of her recently. 

Fully dressed, she crossed to the exit and turned around. “Thank-you
doctor. I'll make an appointment for next time at reception”. “Er, no, 
make it if you have a problem. Honestly, you're fine”. “Just incase,” 
she said, closing the door behind her. 

Karl sighed, leaned back in his creaky chair, then made a few notes
about her which basically consisted of there being nothing to report. 
It was his last appointment of the day, and he was soon out walking 
along to his local pub where he was expecting to meet Neil, who was 
there with a drink ready for him. 

After a while, Neil decided to throw him the bait. “I had a strange
reading today,” he said, “It was a young woman who has always been 
brought up to be careful with her money. She's a student, living in uni 
accommodation, but told me she's keeps £30 grand under the bed in the 
house. Doesn't know what to do with it. Doesn't trust banks”. “I 
suppose that's where we're similar in a way,” said Karl, “People simply 
tell us a load of personal information, but then it's your job to tell 
them before they tell you, isn't it?”. He took a sip of his shandy. 

There was silence for a few moments. “So...er,” said Karl, “This girl,
whereabouts does she live?” “Just up the road,” said Neil, hooking his 
thumb over his shoulder, even though it wasn't in that direction. “The 
address?” “Er, 53 Lenmere street” “I'll tell you what,” said Karl, 
“That Mrs Haversham is getting on my nerves”. 

Stood in a telephone box, Neil was visibly trembling as he lifted the
receiver. He was a hundred percent convinced that the vision he had 
seen was correct. So much so he had to warn the police that Karl was 
about to commit theft, even though he knew that the house at the 
address he had given was empty. It was up for sale. 

After a few more seconds hesitation, Neil rang. 

He did not mention the vision, simply that he suspected that Karl would
turn up expecting to enter an empty house and collect the money. 

An unmarked police vehicle had arrived outside the semi-detached, an
irate looking police officer in his thirties who would rather be 
golfing, or drinking herbal tea sat with his arms folded, staring at 
the place. His companion also had his arms folded, but was fast asleep, 
and had been for the past half hour. 

After ten minutes, an Audi sport pulled up outside the house, and Karl
got out, standing on the pavement, frowning at house with his hands on 
his hips. “Doctor Karl Sebastian” said the policeman's companion, his 
eyes weary with sleep. Karl looked at him. “You're under arrest”. 

At the police station, Karl sat like a sulking child, but he wasn't
mute. “He set me up, he bloody well set me up. Neil Hughes, the town's 
local psychic, you may know him. Well I've got news for you, officer, 
he's a shark, a fraud. I give him the information and he preys on 
gullible people who believe in all that. Search his premises, you'll 
find everything he has on people who have had appointments with him”. 
The droopy moustached policeman nodded. “Yes, ok, we may just 
investigate”. 

Neil couldn't keep still, pacing around the small parlour as though he
was waiting for an important test result. What if this happened? he 
thought, what if that? Does he suspect it was me? He was looking out of 
the window, half expecting the riot police to come screeching around as 
though he'd just tried to assassinate the prime minister. Was Karl 
telling all about him? Maybe it would be a good idea to leave the area 
for a while, he thought. 

Turning from the window, he stopped, as hovering above the table was the
crystal ball. It was at eye level, then slowly drifted towards him and 
stopped around two feet away. More fear surged through him. He could 
see roiling dark clouds within the sphere, which cleared to reveal a 
vision of Karl sitting on a bed, in a prison cell. It then slowly 
panned around and zoomed out to reveal that there were two beds, and it 
was he who was sitting on the other. The ball then fell, and shattered 
on the floor. Neil quickly ran out, panic surging through him. He made 
his way hurriedly down the stairs, only to be greeted by two policemen, 
one of them holding out his badge. “Neil Hughes,” the man said, “You're 
under arrest”. 


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