Deep Heat

[Phantom of the Opera]

DEEP HEAT

By Sean Colledge

 

Jack Thompson was hot. He’d been sat in his office since eight that morning, and the day had gradually become warmer and warmer since he’d left his small apartment at half past seven for the short walk to work

 

Everyone walked to work nowadays, the spiralling petrol prices implemented by the government had forced people to abandon their cars and make their short distances on foot or by bicycle. The government had claimed that that was its intention, but government debt, and incompetent departments had led the government to demand its income from somewhere, and Joe Public had been forced to pay for it by the tank-full.

 

Jack didn’t mind too much though. He often enjoyed the walk, the trees in the complex aesthetically pleasing, the sound of birdsong melodious as they sang their glorious symphonies.

 

Jack had tried to continue with the work he’d been given to do, beads of perspiration forming on his brow like spring dew on leaves, and running down his face like lying tears, but it was to no avail. Whenever he let his fingers speed over his keyboard, it only made him hotter, the fan of the computer heating up his legs. He got up, not for the first time that morning, and crossed to the water fountain on the other side of the room.

 

He removed one of the plastic cups, held it under the nozzle, and pressed on the button until his cup was filled. He drank thirstily, and was disappointed to realise that the water was warm, even hot. He filled his cup up again anyway, and once more downed its contents, then put the empty cup in the waste bin next to the water fountain.

 

He crossed to the air conditioning duct and stood underneath it. The air coming from the duct was dry and cool, and Jack let out a small sigh of satisfied relief, but that was short-lived when he noticed that its cooling gust was gradually becoming less and less effective, like cold water on a serious burn.

 

Disgruntled, Jack turned to the controls on the wall to his left, and was surprised to see it was set to a cool fifteen degrees.

“Certainly doesn’t feel like that” he muttered, disgruntled.

 

He pressed the controls to make the room a little cooler to their lowest nine degrees, and although he could feel some effect from his alterations, it was so slight he almost felt like he needn’t have bothered.

 

He decided he ought to call for some assistance and afterwards some refreshment from the office canteen, which was more or less just a row of vending machines and some rickety chairs and tables. He walked to his closed office door, but when he opened it, he was met with a heat so unbearable that he closed the door again immediately.

 

Instead, he walked back to his desk, and dialled the number for maintenance using the telephone to the right of his PC. A rather tired sounding young woman, who told him that the maintenance staff had all gone home with heat stroke, eventually picked up the phone.

 

He slammed it back down on its cradle, and looked out the window. The sun was hidden behind a fairly thick blanket of cloud, an edge of it poking cheekily out the edge, but it was still incomprehensively hot.

 

Jack removed his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, then after a second thought, removed the shirt completely. The door was shut, and he rarely had any visitors, except for his manager. Jack was the sort of worker who preferred to get on with his work and leave early when it was finished, instead of messing about chatting to people he didn’t even like, and had nothing in common with. The office was often rife with gossip about other people living on it, and Jack would be happy if he could get through his day without having to hear about any of it.

 

He then removed his shoes, socks and finally his trousers, and then sat back down on his chair. He jumped to his feet immediately, however, when the leather of the chair came into contact with his bare skin.

 

He looked out again through the window, and let his gaze fall to the street below. The street was deserted, unusual due to the bustling activity that usually befell it. Around 2000 people lived and worked in the complex, and the streets below him were the source of most of their needs, be it for groceries, clothes, or nights out.

 

A bit more sun pried itself behind its fluffy guard, and Jack felt an unbelievable surge of heat. Heat waves flowed almost tangibly along the streets below his office, and Jack thought that it seemed as if the newly planted trees along the path were wilting before his eyes. The grass had turned mustard yellow. Birds lay dead; some on the grass and some on the street in what looked to be complete exhaustion. Jack looked horrified at the sight below him, while wiping an endless stream of perspiration from his face.

 

He heard the boiling of water close by and thought to himself how insane someone must be to need a hot drink in this sweltering heat! The boiling was actually coming from the water receptacle behind him, bubbling away in its plastic prison. The thin plastic began to melt; it’s grooves on its front compressing together like the chins of an overweight person. Jack just about managed to jump on his chair, ignoring the hot leather, as the water receptacle burst and boiling hot water spread like volcanic lava onto the floor.

 

Something from the window suddenly caught his eye, and he saw a young woman, assumedly the young woman he had spoken to earlier, dash out of the doors at the bottom of the office block. Even several stories up, he could see the panic on her face. She ran out on to the street, but as she did so, her skin instantly turned a bright red, and blisters began to form on her forehead and left cheek. As she continued to move, more blisters formed on her face. She suddenly stopped dead and howled in pain, glaring accusatorily up at the sky. This afforded Jack a better look at her face, which had begun to become so burnt that it was already becoming black in places.

 

He recognised her as Helen, the receptionist of the building, and confirmed her as the woman he had spoken to earlier. Looking down further at her shapely frame, he noticed that her hands had also begun to blister, one decidedly worse than the other, the one, Jack assumed that she had used to grasp the brass door knob of the office complex. That hand had been charred almost completely, the skin and flesh there burnt away to almost bone. The legs exposed by her short skirt had also been victim to the merciless sun, and were blackened and inflamed.

 

To his horror, the woman collapsed to the hot ground underfoot, and emitted a guttural scream of pain that penetrated the open windows of the office. The sun continued to burn away at her flesh, and her exposed skin was almost entirely black, cindered in such a short amount of time. Jack was met with the acrid stench of burnt flesh, like over grilled bacon.

 

Jack was sure that if it wasn’t for the air conditioning he would surely have met the fate of the woman already, and looking down at his body he saw that his skin had turned a worryingly bright cherry red. In panic, he instinctively pulled his way over to beneath the air conditioning duct, ignoring the singeing of his skin as it came into contact with the hot surfaces of his office. The cool air helped his burning skin little, and he glared, terrified, at the blue sky

 

Then the sun came from the last of its cloud.

 

The sun’s rays thundered through the exposed windows of the office, and Jack noticed that his clothes, that would serve at least some protection, were discarded at the other side of the room near his desk. Panic-stricken, he pulled himself back towards the desk, subjecting himself to the full wrath of the sun.

 

The pain was immediate and unbearable as it scorched his flesh, causing blisters as his blood boiled inside his body. What felt like sweat formed around his eyes and trickled down his face, and he wiped it away with one swollen hand, horrified to see that the liquid was a dark red.

 

He cried in panic, and the sun attacked the sensitive organ in his mouth turning it black instantly as it baked inside his mouth. His skin throbbed, and Jack couldn’t remember a time when he had been in so much pain, but he knew he had to ignore that in order to get some kind of cover from the sun’s rays.

 

He finally reached his clothes, but as he stretched to reach them, his skin cracking as he did so and fresh blood pouring down his body, his fingers only brushed the soft fabric of his shirt.

 

He changed position and slid down the chair, sending fresh throbs of pain up his body, as skin came into contact with the chair, charred remains attaching themselves to its sticky back.

 

He wriggled his toes over the shirt to try and grab it, but the movement of his toes against each other simply renewed the unbearable sensation of pain which was doubled as his exposed skin continued to disintegrate against the rays of the sun.

 

He gave an exasperated cry as the pain became more and more excruciating. Tears, a rose petal mix of blood and salty water fell down his face as he finally realised his fate. He spun his chair round and faced his foe, letting the pain envelope him into unconsciousness, as the sun continued to cook him.

 

Venus’ sun continued to radiate on.

[SrfSnwColdplay]

Oh...k...

[ClearAsCrystal]

wow

 

 

 

First of all...SHOCK because someone wrote something this damn good and posted it here

 

 

Now... uhm... Even though it's really harsh and scary...it's really harsh and scary as I read it!

 

Anything that is well written enough to make emotions in a person change and move...is an effective writer :)

 

 

Did you write this?

[Alan Partridge]

DEEP HEAT

By Sean Colledge

 

Jack Thompson was hot. He’d been sat in his office since eight that morning, and the day had gradually become warmer and warmer since he’d left his small apartment at half past seven for the short walk to work

 

Everyone walked to work nowadays, the spiralling petrol prices implemented by the government had forced people to abandon their cars and make their short distances on foot or by bicycle. The government had claimed that that was its intention, but government debt, and incompetent departments had led the government to demand its income from somewhere, and Joe Public had been forced to pay for it by the tank-full.

 

Jack didn’t mind too much though. He often enjoyed the walk, the trees in the complex aesthetically pleasing, the sound of birdsong melodious as they sang their glorious symphonies.

 

Jack had tried to continue with the work he’d been given to do, beads of perspiration forming on his brow like spring dew on leaves, and running down his face like lying tears, but it was to no avail. Whenever he let his fingers speed over his keyboard, it only made him hotter, the fan of the computer heating up his legs. He got up, not for the first time that morning, and crossed to the water fountain on the other side of the room.

 

He removed one of the plastic cups, held it under the nozzle, and pressed on the button until his cup was filled. He drank thirstily, and was disappointed to realise that the water was warm, even hot. He filled his cup up again anyway, and once more downed its contents, then put the empty cup in the waste bin next to the water fountain.

 

He crossed to the air conditioning duct and stood underneath it. The air coming from the duct was dry and cool, and Jack let out a small sigh of satisfied relief, but that was short-lived when he noticed that its cooling gust was gradually becoming less and less effective, like cold water on a serious burn.

 

Disgruntled, Jack turned to the controls on the wall to his left, and was surprised to see it was set to a cool fifteen degrees.

“Certainly doesn’t feel like that” he muttered, disgruntled.

 

He pressed the controls to make the room a little cooler to their lowest nine degrees, and although he could feel some effect from his alterations, it was so slight he almost felt like he needn’t have bothered.

 

He decided he ought to call for some assistance and afterwards some refreshment from the office canteen, which was more or less just a row of vending machines and some rickety chairs and tables. He walked to his closed office door, but when he opened it, he was met with a heat so unbearable that he closed the door again immediately.

 

Instead, he walked back to his desk, and dialled the number for maintenance using the telephone to the right of his PC. A rather tired sounding young woman, who told him that the maintenance staff had all gone home with heat stroke, eventually picked up the phone.

 

He slammed it back down on its cradle, and looked out the window. The sun was hidden behind a fairly thick blanket of cloud, an edge of it poking cheekily out the edge, but it was still incomprehensively hot.

 

Jack removed his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, then after a second thought, removed the shirt completely. The door was shut, and he rarely had any visitors, except for his manager. Jack was the sort of worker who preferred to get on with his work and leave early when it was finished, instead of messing about chatting to people he didn’t even like, and had nothing in common with. The office was often rife with gossip about other people living on it, and Jack would be happy if he could get through his day without having to hear about any of it.

 

He then removed his shoes, socks and finally his trousers, and then sat back down on his chair. He jumped to his feet immediately, however, when the leather of the chair came into contact with his bare skin.

 

He looked out again through the window, and let his gaze fall to the street below. The street was deserted, unusual due to the bustling activity that usually befell it. Around 2000 people lived and worked in the complex, and the streets below him were the source of most of their needs, be it for groceries, clothes, or nights out.

 

A bit more sun pried itself behind its fluffy guard, and Jack felt an unbelievable surge of heat. Heat waves flowed almost tangibly along the streets below his office, and Jack thought that it seemed as if the newly planted trees along the path were wilting before his eyes. The grass had turned mustard yellow. Birds lay dead; some on the grass and some on the street in what looked to be complete exhaustion. Jack looked horrified at the sight below him, while wiping an endless stream of perspiration from his face.

 

He heard the boiling of water close by and thought to himself how insane someone must be to need a hot drink in this sweltering heat! The boiling was actually coming from the water receptacle behind him, bubbling away in its plastic prison. The thin plastic began to melt; it’s grooves on its front compressing together like the chins of an overweight person. Jack just about managed to jump on his chair, ignoring the hot leather, as the water receptacle burst and boiling hot water spread like volcanic lava onto the floor.

 

Something from the window suddenly caught his eye, and he saw a young woman, assumedly the young woman he had spoken to earlier, dash out of the doors at the bottom of the office block. Even several stories up, he could see the panic on her face. She ran out on to the street, but as she did so, her skin instantly turned a bright red, and blisters began to form on her forehead and left cheek. As she continued to move, more blisters formed on her face. She suddenly stopped dead and howled in pain, glaring accusatorily up at the sky. This afforded Jack a better look at her face, which had begun to become so burnt that it was already becoming black in places.

 

He recognised her as Helen, the receptionist of the building, and confirmed her as the woman he had spoken to earlier. Looking down further at her shapely frame, he noticed that her hands had also begun to blister, one decidedly worse than the other, the one, Jack assumed that she had used to grasp the brass door knob of the office complex. That hand had been charred almost completely, the skin and flesh there burnt away to almost bone. The legs exposed by her short skirt had also been victim to the merciless sun, and were blackened and inflamed.

 

To his horror, the woman collapsed to the hot ground underfoot, and emitted a guttural scream of pain that penetrated the open windows of the office. The sun continued to burn away at her flesh, and her exposed skin was almost entirely black, cindered in such a short amount of time. Jack was met with the acrid stench of burnt flesh, like over grilled bacon.

 

Jack was sure that if it wasn’t for the air conditioning he would surely have met the fate of the woman already, and looking down at his body he saw that his skin had turned a worryingly bright cherry red. In panic, he instinctively pulled his way over to beneath the air conditioning duct, ignoring the singeing of his skin as it came into contact with the hot surfaces of his office. The cool air helped his burning skin little, and he glared, terrified, at the blue sky

 

Then the sun came from the last of its cloud.

 

The sun’s rays thundered through the exposed windows of the office, and Jack noticed that his clothes, that would serve at least some protection, were discarded at the other side of the room near his desk. Panic-stricken, he pulled himself back towards the desk, subjecting himself to the full wrath of the sun.

 

The pain was immediate and unbearable as it scorched his flesh, causing blisters as his blood boiled inside his body. What felt like sweat formed around his eyes and trickled down his face, and he wiped it away with one swollen hand, horrified to see that the liquid was a dark red.

 

He cried in panic, and the sun attacked the sensitive organ in his mouth turning it black instantly as it baked inside his mouth. His skin throbbed, and Jack couldn’t remember a time when he had been in so much pain, but he knew he had to ignore that in order to get some kind of cover from the sun’s rays.

 

He finally reached his clothes, but as he stretched to reach them, his skin cracking as he did so and fresh blood pouring down his body, his fingers only brushed the soft fabric of his shirt.

 

He changed position and slid down the chair, sending fresh throbs of pain up his body, as skin came into contact with the chair, charred remains attaching themselves to its sticky back.

 

He wriggled his toes over the shirt to try and grab it, but the movement of his toes against each other simply renewed the unbearable sensation of pain which was doubled as his exposed skin continued to disintegrate against the rays of the sun.

 

He gave an exasperated cry as the pain became more and more excruciating. Tears, a rose petal mix of blood and salty water fell down his face as he finally realised his fate. He spun his chair round and faced his foe, letting the pain envelope him into unconsciousness, as the sun continued to cook him.

 

Venus’ sun continued to radiate on.

 

Seriously, no one is gonna read all that. Keep it shorter next time mate!

[RICK8]

That's pretty good Sean....:thumbsup:

[Alan Partridge]

That's pretty good Sean....:thumbsup:

 

My names Alan not Sean but thanks! Unless you were talking to the guy who started the thread? Surely not?

[Phantom of the Opera]

Seriously' date=' no one is gonna read all that. Keep it shorter next time mate![/quote']

 

Well some did, obviously :)

 

Thanks to all comments

[Alan Partridge]

Well some did, obviously :)

 

Thanks to all comments

 

No problem, just glad my comment was appreciated.

[Phantom of the Opera]

As for the length...that's actually not that long for a short story...although I have written one that's only about 750 words

[ClearAsCrystal]

It wasn't long enough even for a short story ... some people just don't like to read more than a paragraph. But I am sure there are some readers sround cp... so it's all gravy :)

[psychosaiqa]

feels like it's just about that hot down in Houston...a nice hot 98 F

[ClearAsCrystal]

^^^a fellow Houstonian?!

[Phantom of the Opera]

haha well if it's so hot that you're feeling a bit like frying..it's probably best you don't leave the house!!

[ClearAsCrystal]

:uhoh:

 

 

 

mean! now everytime i feel the heat start to go up...I will remember this :cry2:

[Phantom of the Opera]

haha yeah my stories seem to have that effect. I've written one about a rather dodgy ice cream man too...and everyone who has read it, when seeing an ice cream man thinks of the story!

[ClearAsCrystal]

Could you post it somewhere, here, pm?

[Phantom of the Opera]

Well I could, but I don't like the ending very much...let me edit it and I'll send it to you

 

 

hmm it seems to be too long to send via pm

[Phantom of the Opera]

OK seems I'd already edited it hahaha...sending now.

[ClearAsCrystal]

:smug2: please and thank you

[Best u Can]

oooooooooooooooooooo venus, very kewl

[Phantom of the Opera]

Ok clearascrystal...it's got a thread of its own if you care to find it

[ClearAsCrystal]

k

[RICK8]

your story went through my head at times during the day,I think it's really good and you have a talent there buddy!!

 

:nice:

[Phantom of the Opera]

haha cheers :) Glad you liked Soiled Sheets too!!