(17y) JANUARY 2005, 12.55

The memories stung though they were of happy times. John sighed and got up, hands in his pockets. The Headmaster was taking forever. He walked up to the awards board, spotting his name at the top in English, of course. No one could get near him in this subject. But the other awards? Acko the Bastard was right; John was crap at everything else. The other subjects just didn't grab his attention.

'A truly amazing imagination,' that's what all his English teachers said, even when he had been in reception. This wasn't the entire truth, of course. Because he could look at a photo and experience that moment in time, he could write everything that was going on in thorough detail. He had even won prizes for his literature. The more fun the photo looked, the better he could write. John called it "the Blink".

All the photos of the different classes hung next on the wall. How boring. These were not worth his time. The show album was better. John walked over to where it lay open. "School Italy Trip 2004" stood on its front cover. He flipped it open. The photos from the trip were much more interesting. Trips like these were like celebrities to him. Untouchable and distant. He never really got to go on them because Mam couldn't afford it. Mam was gutted he couldn't go, but John wasn't really that bothered, as long as he could look at his friend Martin's photos. He always asked if he could take them and show Mam so he could go next year--a convenient excuse. Once he got into his bedroom, he would Blink every one of the photos. By the time he had finished, he felt like he had been there all along.

Ahh, here was one of his favourites. Martin and the others held raised glasses, their cheeks red from skiing in the cold all day. John smiled, concentrated, and Blinked.

The photo blurred in front of him as he shot forward at breakneck speed. In the early days he'd felt sick as a dog after Blinking. The sudden velocity at which he seemed to travel had at first made him feel dizzy and queasy, but it soon got better. Now he was so used to doing it he was alert even at the dead stop before he entered the scene.

The first time John had entered the Blink, he screamed.

(7y) FEBRUARY 1995, 15.18

Screams tore from his terror stricken throat as he thundered down towards the photo, spinning out of control, hurtling head over heels. The picture flashed in front of him and he grasped out, desperate to catch hold of anything that would slow his descent. When he turned around, the picture loomed ahead. He screamed again and covered his face, knowing the impact would kill him. He hit a barrier. It gave, cushioning his fall, then flexed back, pushing him away.

John kept screaming and the noise echoed around him. He only stopped when he opened his eyes again and looked around. A deep impenetrable black surrounded him, and to the other side was the photo of him and his parents out on a walk, which now seemed as big as a house. An innate urge overcame him to touch it, so he reached his hand towards the photo. A translucent film covered the picture and he brushed it with the back of his hand. Where his hand had touched the film, a hole appeared. John jerked back his hand and the hole closed up again. The darkness felt choking and intense, and John turned, hoping there was a way out. The only thing in the pure dark was a single star. It didn't twinkle like those in the sky.

Somehow he knew that star was his way back to reality.

His eyes wandered over the photo's frozen surface. Nothing moved. Over the top, underneath, and all around the photo he floated, taking in its 3D version. To his delight he realised he was "flying". 'Miiiint!' he yelled. He flew away from the huge photo, swooped, loop-the-looped, and stopped just short of the barrier. In this way he visited hundreds of photos, but he didn't have the guts to go through for a long time.

The day he went through? Well, that was when the real fun started.

(17y) JANUARY 2005, 12.56

John floated outside the photo of the ski trip. There was no movement inside until he entered; it was like time waited for him. The darkness around him was the same as ever, and now he felt comfortable in it, floating forward and gently pushing against the almost undetectable outer wall of the photo. In a moment, he'd popped straight through the wall, and he turned to watch the hole he'd created shrink away until the wall was whole again. The sudden noises inside the photo made him smile and turn. He really loved the Blink.

Martin was laughing as he leant over to one of the other boys. 'If they knew this was mostly Vodka, we'd be in the shit.'

The other boy looked over at the teachers sat at the Café bar. 'Marty, keep it down bro.'

Marty grinned. 'Ah bollocks to 'em mate. Look, they are getting pissed 'n all.'

One of the teachers staggered off to the toilet as they watched. John grinned and floated over to Acko the Bastard. This was his favourite part of this Blink, and he wanted to see it in its full glory. Mr Atkinson took a deep drag of his cigarette, almost all the way down to his nicotine stained fingers, then stubbed it out in the ashtray and picked up his drink.

John paused the Blink. He would love to find out if it was whiskey in the orange juice, but there was no way of knowing--the Blink just let you see parts of time. He couldn't feel, smell, or interact with anything in the Blink. John shrugged and played it on, smiling to himself at what was coming.

Acko picked up the glass and chugged the drink down, his eyes glassy and half-lidded. The attractive barmaid went to take his glass. Acko grabbed her hand and kissed it. The horrified look on the barmaid's face cracked John up every time. She pulled her hand away, trying hard to smile as she did it. As she turned, she muttered something to herself, wiping her hand on a bar towel.

John smiled. Wouldn't want that rotten bastard's spit on him either. Mr Atkinson stood up and took a step forward, forgetting the bar was one step up from the rest of the Café, and crashed into a family on holiday, knocking the mother and one of the kids to the floor before toppling down himself. The irate father picked him up by the collar, speed screaming in Italian. Just as the father brought his fist up, John heard his name being called.

'John? What have you done this time?'

John shook out of the Blink and found himself back in the school reception. 'Whoa.' He staggered. Getting tugged out of the Blink like that still caught him off balance. The grin left his face when he spotted his mam.

She walked right up to him. 'John Finnie, what have you done this time?'

'Hiya Mam.' He grinned.

'You can wipe that grin off John Finnie. I had to take time off work again. If things go on like this, I'll be getting the sack soon.'

John put his head down, feeling sudden remorse--Mam loved her secretary job. The company she worked for had just been taken over by another law firm, and she said they were itching to get rid of people. He didn't want her to lose her job, and this was the third time in less than a fortnight she had been called in to school.

'Sorry Mam.'

With her pale hands she reached out to cup his face, though he stood a good foot and a half taller than her. Some people thought her height was to her disadvantage, but they soon found out that was not the case. Mam was fearless--the most probable reason he was still in school and not expelled.

'Ah, Diane.' The Headmaster walked towards them, and Mam dropped her hand. 'Thanks for coming. Again.' The fact that they were on first name terms was unsettling. John frowned, not liking it at all.

'So what has he done this time, Colin?'

'It's serious this time Diane. Firing a spit ball at one of my teachers and trying to incite the class to a rampage.'

'He's lying Mam,' John said, 'Acko's lying.'

'Mr Atkinson,' the Head corrected.

Mam's eyes widened and she turned to John. 'Shut up John, just shut up.'

John stood stunned at the venomous undertones in her voice. Mam always backed him up. Always.

'So what are we going to do here Colin?' she asked. 'Suspend him? Expel him?'

John really wasn't liking the first name terms or the "we" she kept using.

The Head put his hands up. 'Now, now, let's keep this in proportion. I don't believe everything Mr Atkinson has said is true. Shouting "freedom" is not inciting a riot. However, he did fire a spit ball, and that needs punishing.'

Mam shot a disappointed look in his direction. Shit. Her disappointment felt worse than any punishment. 'Okay,' she said, 'what do you think?'

The Head pulled a report card from his pocket. 'He must go on report for one month.'

'What?' John cut in.

'Make it two months,' Mam replied looking directly at John, daring him to speak again.

John looked at the floor, ashamed and a tad pissed off.

'Okay.' The Head smiled at John. 'Two months it is. You will report to all your teachers with this.' He passed the report card to John. 'At the end of the day, if you have anything but green stamps from your lessons, you get another day added on. Your Mam gets to see the card every night.' The Head arched an eyebrow and flicking the report card in his outstretched hand. 'Agreed?'

John met the Head's eyes for a brief moment and returned his eyes to the floor. 'Yep.'

'John Finnie,' Mam scolded, 'answer the Head properly.'

John looked up and pasted a fake smile on. 'Yes Sir. Agreed.' Mam had a fiery look in her eyes.

'Where are you next?' The Head asked John.

'History Sir.'

The Head raised his eyebrows. 'Okay, well off you go then.'

John set off up the corridor and he turned to say goodbye to his mam. The Head had his hand on her shoulder. John didn't like that. He didn't like it one bit.

© 2018 Steve Ford & Joy Cronjé