Round and round and round it goes. Where it stops, nobody knows! I have a special treat for you today! Feast your eyes upon this new zoetrope! One of the earliest forms of animation, you just spin the cylinder to watch a series of pictures create the illusion of motion.
Whats special about today's feature? Its a new submission for one person. So you can look, but don't touch. Just sit back and watch as the semblance of life is created ad infinitum for our next patron. You'll have to wait your turn.
***
Chester Trace had a problem; he couldn't sleep. He had tried pills, therapy, even bar fights to get knocked out. Every time he closed his eyes for rest, he "woke up" on the morning of September 25, 2024. The longest he had stayed awake was five days before exhaustion closed his eyes for him. Right back to that same day. No rest.
He tried to remember what had been so special about that day. It was getting harder to piece everything together, he would get dizzy sometimes trying to remember. By his calculation, Chester had been awake for months. He had called his mother countless times to check to see if she knew what to do.
"Chester, I don't know what you had planned for today but its your father's 60th birthday party this weekend. He's getting on in years so make sure you make an appearance."
Chester had heard her tell him about Dad's birthday dozens of times now. He had picked out different gifts in hopes that maybe changing the gift would allow him to move ahead in time. It didn't, of course. He had watched every movie about time travel and repeating timelines dozens of times. The main character always overcame some character flaw in the long run and that magically saved the day.
The main characters also did some pretty heinous things, i.e. killing people and even suicide. Chester was worn thin and breaking down but he told himself he would never stoop to those lengths. What if that was what made time work again? Then he'd be in prison or dead, that's what.
At first, Chester thought having extra time had felt like a blessing. He could watch movies, play video games, read books, all to his heart's content. He caught up on so much. After a while, the lack of sleep also caught up. Luckily he didn't have a car, living in the city he could walk everywhere or call a cab. If he fell asleep at the wheel he could hurt someone.
Cracks were forming in his mind, though. More than a few times Chester had been arrested for public intoxication, even though he was sober. He was ranting in the streets about sleep, barely holding on to consciousness. That had been one of the long stretches, almost 130 hours awake. Figuratively.
September 25. Chester dragged himself out of bed and took a shower. Ate the same fucking cereal. Watched the same fucking news report. He was especially bitter today. Chester had a horrible headache, it felt like the world was spinning. He threw on some mismatched clothes, stuffed his feet into some rubber boots and took the elevator down. There, as always, was Mrs. Hamilton with her little fucking rat dog, Monty. She was a sweet widower who lived right below him.
"Good morning, Chester!" The old bitch waved happily at him. Chester just grumbled and waved. "Are you okay, dear?" The little old lady adored Chester. He had been such a help after her husband had died.
Chester walked out the front of their apartment building and hailed a cab. Mrs. Hamilton followed him slowly. Traffic flashed passed. No taxi's were stopping. It was starting to look like he would have to have the same conversation about her dog, Monty, needing dog sitting. He had done it lots of times in the past. It was never a problem. But when you do the same thing dozens and dozens and hundreds of times, you develop hostility. Familiarity breeds contempt as they say.
Chester was staring just past Mrs. Hamilton at an approaching bus. Before he knew what he was doing, he grabbed the annoying little shit and threw it in front of the bus. The tiny dog promptly popped like a balloon. Mrs. Hamilton's shrieks pierced the air and Chester ran as fast as he could away from her. Tears streaming down his face, he would be happy to wake up on September 25 this time. Why had he done it? Did he finally snap? That poor little dog didn't deserve to die.
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Chester ran and ran and ran. Very soon he found he had no idea where he was and found a secluded spot to hide out. He was there for hours and cried himself to sleep.
September 25.
"Oh, thank you God!" Chester quickly showered and stuff his face with the somehow great same cereal as always. He was a little dizzy but he ran down the flight of stairs and started knocking on Mrs. Hamilton's door.
"Coming!" Her sweet little voice called out. She opened the door and positively beamed with joy to see Chester. "Good morning, Chester!" She squealed and did a little wave. "What can I do for you this morning?"
"Oh, Mrs. H! I came to get Monty to dog-sit for you today!" Her adorable wrinkly face screwed up in confusion.
"Who's Monty? I don't have a dog. You know that silly." Chester's shock and horror must have been plastered to his face as she asked "Are you okay, dear?" He just nodded and walked away. Mrs. Hamilton accepted it closed her door gently.
No Monty. How? Chester reasoned it must have to do with the recurring timeline, that somehow, he had the power to remove people from it. Or, at least small dogs. Perhaps he should test this.
Now, a normal, sane person would not have come to the conclusion of killing people to see if they disappear. A normal, sane person would also not be stuck in a time loop. Chester was no longer normal or sane.
He took money out of his bank account and went to a pawn store. Looking around for a few minutes, Chester came to the decided which gun he wanted to buy. It was small, no bigger than his open hand. The tag on it said .38 Special. He had no idea what that meant and flagged down the clerk.
"I'd like to buy this gun, please." Chester said pointing through the glass.
"Alrighty, I'll need you to fill out some paperwork and I'll need a valid, New York ID." Chester filled out the forms and handed over his driver's license. The clerk waved at another worker to come inspect the forms. With a nod, the other worker left. "Looks good, buddy. Now we'll run a background check. If it comes back clean, it'll be yours. Now, New York has some pretty strict laws and it'll be at least 10 days before you can pick it up."
Chester's heart sank, his head was spinning. The experiment required a gun, today. He nodded and the procedure went forward. Chester left the pawn shop $400 dollars poorer without the revolver. How was he supposed to proceed? He couldn't go after a gangster or drug dealer without a gun.
A darkness descended on Chester's mind and whispered "If there's no one there to stop you, you can just take a gun tomorrow." Chester smiled maliciously. He went back inside the pawn store and purchased a knife, then left again and waited until the store closed.
The worker pulled down a security door from the awning and locked it. Chester followed him.
"Wait!" A voice screamed in his mind. "You said you'd never do this, no matter how hard it got!" Chester stopped in his tracks. He looked at the knife in his hand and a wave of disgust took the breath from him. The knife hit the ground with a clang and he dropped to his knees, retching his lunch into the street.
"Hey, buddy, you alright?" It was the worker, coming to check on him.
"No, I need to sleep!" Chester sobbed. The guy knelt near him and patted his back.
"It'll be okay, man. Here, let me help you up. Do you have someone you can call to pick you up?"
Why was he being so fucking nice? Chester lunged for the knife and stabbed the worker in the chest. Then he ripped it free and nearly decapitated the man with a single slice. Chester stabbed his first victim over a hundred times. No one saw them. No one came to the worker's aid. Whatever voice had tried to stop Chester was silent.
September 25.
Chester didn't bother showering today. He walked to the pawn store and the man he killed was no where to be seen. When he asked about the other worker they confirmed there was no one else there and never had been. Forgetting why it mattered who he killed for the experiment, Chester left, laughing like a mad man.
September 25. September 25. September 25. September 25. September 25. September 25. September 25. September 25. September 25. September 25. September 25. September 25.
At first, Chester was careful with those he chose to kill. Stalking them, hunting them. He had all the time to learn everything about his quarry. He no longer dreaded waking up. It meant he could continue his data collection.
Soon, New York was empty. Where once there were 8 million people going about their daily lives, now it was only Chester.
He was going to spare his mother and father. He really was. Something made him kill them. It made him sad so he decided to kill himself. It never worked. It was always September 25. He tried several times, each attempt breaking his mind more and more. Every morning right as he was waking, the world spun and he thought more than once there was a hint of a nightmare that held the keys to his problem. Some old antique shop. Some weird guy. An old cylinder with moving pictures he was going to buy for his dad's birthday.
September 25.
No remembering anymore. It was time to sit back and enjoy the silence in New York City for the first time ever. Soon, he would feel the urge to kill again. There were still billions of people he could hunt. If Chester had more mental acuity, or if he cared enough to try to calculate his time spent on September 25, the tally would be approaching 10,000 years. Apparently, time doesn't heal all wounds.
Normally, I would tell you about how much work I have to do to prepare the next feature for you. The Curio does of course need its Curator. Tonight, however, it is September 25. For you, just once. For today's patron, forever.
Sleep well.