PERSONAL SURPRISE
Rebone Makgato
SHORT FICTION
Published by Rebone for Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2011 Rebone Makgato
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PERSONAL SURPRISE
Dr Malan was sitting in his office at the back of his consulting rooms. It had been a very busy morning to-day. He was looking tired and very old. His eyes, a deep ocean blue, were exhausted and appeared hazy. His freckled skin was paler than usual. He had deep lines in his face. A network of tiny crows feet round his eyes told us that the work was taking a strain on him. Dr Malan had grizzled wiry hair; he had thin arms and fingers that his clients regarded as too skinny. No doubt he was working very hard, making daily sacrifices. He had often thought of retiring; at times he dismissed such thoughts from his active mind.
There was reason for him to keep on working, though. In spite of being a medical doctor, he sometimes felt desperate and disillusioned by his career. At Zebediela in the late seventies, it was the weird cases that came before him that had him alarmed. For Dr Malan was proud that he had followed a profession for which he had studied for ten years. He was a practising physician when he decided to branch out and specialize in something oddly called Teleparanormal Phenomenal Research.
One thing that made Dr Malan proud was his track record with the TPR Institute. While there he had supervised the work of renowned psychic researchers and mediums. He was most instrumental in deciphering psychic codes manifested in supernatural colonial apparitions relayed to prosperous wine estate proprietors. He had travelled all over the world giving talks and lectures. And he had, most importantly, been privileged to witness the most bizarre forms of mad ghosts and ninety year old poltergeists. Thus with the experience that he had, he was invaluable to the people of Zebediela. He offered hope where there was none and alleviated suffering to a people who would otherwise had nowhere to turn. For all the period that he had spent at 11 Newstand Street, he had never been defeated at any problem put before him.
But his detractors believed contrarily. Sorcery best described his motives
For a long time Dr Malan had believed that he was destined to be a bridge between mere mortals and the higher deity. He knew for a long time that he had the powers to intervene and control unusual situations. How else could he successfully provide relief to the suffering masses? But it was not an exaggeration to state that at times Dr Malan did not understand himself. He found that the queer powers of remotely controlling and telepathically calibrating specifications governing living and non-living things made him a semi-god. He held that he could recreate life and happiness by exorcising and curing destructive powers whenever they had devastating effects on man. The scope of Dr Malan’s extraordinary treatment lay in dreams. His patients comprised mainly of people who experienced problems in dreams that could be associated with daily experiences.
A faint, indecisive knock rapped on the half-open door and his secretary, Maria Mokholo, drifted in. Dr Malan raised his grey eyebrows as Ms Mokholo began:
“The gentleman who made an inquiry last Friday…. Desired to know if you could fit him in sometime this week?”
“Oh, thank you,” said Dr Malan. “I completely forgot about him. Let’s make it tomorrow 10am, shall we?”
The following morning at precisely 09H55, Ms Mokholo opened the door to a stoutly built figure towering over the doorway. He was simply dressed in jeans and a sports jacket. At the sight of a lady the visitor removed his hat, nervously twisting it in his enormous hands as he slightly bowed his greetings. Ms Mokholo ushered him inside, asking,
“I believe you are Mr. Khumalo? You are on time.”
“Right oh,” the visitor replied. “Old habits.”
Ms Mokholo led him to the consulting rooms, where Dr Malan sat writing in a file. At the sight of the patient he pushed the file aside. Mr. Khumalo accepted the chair that was offered, sat down and inquired of Dr Malan’s health.
“I can see you are troubled Mr. Khumalo. Your eyes say that much” Dr Malan said, paging through Mr. Khumalo’s personal details in his file.
Mr. Khumalo sat looking at Dr Malan, particularly at his very pale, exhausted eyes. He began to have a slight doubt as to whether Dr Malan would live up to his reputation.
“I am not sure, Dr Malan,” Mr. Khumalo said doubtfully. “For the past two months I have experienced problems… severe problems. I am not sure if I could ever find help…”