Mysteriously Bizarre Reality

Reality - it's strange {often illusory}

In the distance, a figure of a man could be seen waving his hands.

Mr. Louis, who was driving the black car, wasn’t sure if the man was trying to attract his attention. Still, as no other vehicle or anyone could be spotted around, he slowly drove towards the beckoning figure.

The stranger banged on the roof of the car as soon as it came within his reach, and peeped at Mr. Louis through the window.

‘H-hello, would you please give me a r-ride home?’ he began, ‘My house is...not t-too far from here, but walking would be quite difficult at this hour, so it would be a b-big help if you can give me a ride.’

- ‘Of course, get in!’ Mr. Louis replied, without much contemplation. A man; going home alone at this hour; can even come across robbers in the streets; needs my help-was all Mr. Louis thought.

- ‘Where should I drive you to?’ Mr. Louis asked as soon as the unidentified person got into his car, and on the seat beside him.

- ‘P-Park-town, near Fred's Café.’

- ‘Sorry, I don’t know Park-town or Fred’s Café because I’m not much familiar with the streets around here, except the route from my home to my workplace! So, would you please tell me the directions as I drive along?’

- ‘S-sure. P-please drive straight now, and then I’ll tell you where to go next-t.’

Why was he feeling so nervous like this? Was the man thinking that Mr. Louis himself was a mugger? Mr. Louis felt somewhat weird, so he decided to introduce himself friendlily-‘Actually, I came near the city from the outskirts for a job a few months ago, and so I don’t know the streets very well. I’ve got a job at T.V. Today’s Telly and I live in a rented house at Bakery Street. My name is Stephen Louis. I live alone, so I don’t get much chance to talk with someone. I hope you’re not annoyed that I’ve started chattering!’ Mr. Louis said while driving.

- ‘N-no problem, turn right please. Okay…thanks…My name is B-Bartholomew Cortez, and I’m a…p-painter.’

- ‘That’s nice! Were any of your paintings exhibited?’

- ‘N-not much, really.’

- ‘O’

- ‘T-turn left please. Thanks…Uh…’

- ‘Did you want to tell me something?’ this, Mr. Louis inquired, glancing at Mr. Cortez. Sweat beaded on Mr. Cortez’s furrowed forehead, and…his eyes! " Many different colors, from the edges of both his black irises, crept inwards near the borders of his pupils, and, as if diffusing around the pupils, they created a whitish hue somewhere, and a dark shade somewhere, before the shades ebbed and the irises returned to their original black colors.

Mr. Louis noticed that he was staring at the frolicking of the colors. It was unusual, so it was attention-grabbing. But that was a matter of only a few seconds. He paid heed to driving again, and assumed that because he was dreadfully tired from overwork that night, and midnight too had struck, the street lights reflecting on Mr. Cortez’s eyes appeared to him like that. Staring was rude!

‘Mr. Louis!’ now Mr. Louis realized that Mr. Cortez was calling him.

- ‘Y-yes?’

- ‘There’s my house!’ Mr. Cortez beamed, not a bit of uneasiness in his voice now (surprisingly). He pointed on the windscreen, on a luxurious mansion in close proximity; white-coated, with dark dome-shaped windows, and royal carvings.

In this area, the street-light was shimmering very faintly, so the blocks around couldn’t be interpreted clearly. But that mansion was so white that it seemed to flash with its own luster.

‘Oh! So, you have arrived!’ said Mr. Louis, looking at Mr. Cortez after he stopped the car just in front of the mansion. The colors played again on Mr. Cortez’s irises, and showed hues that were white and red, and then diminished to black again.

- ‘I see you don’t have much fuel, to go home, perhaps. You can spend tonight at my house if you wish!’ said Mr. Cortez.

True " The fuel-meter was awfully low and showed a red glow inside its white borders. Besides, Mr. Louis couldn’t even let a wonderful offer of staying at a deluxe house slip. Such had always been his dream, now was the opportunity to make it come to reality!

- ‘Sure! Thank you so much for your offer!’ Mr. Louis said, rather impetuously, and gave Mr. Cortez a grateful glimpse.

Dyes played again on Mr. Cortez’s irises, and those colors themselves seemed to mix together and fade to the usual black, this time, without giving any specific colors.

Mr. Cortez and Mr. Louis both got out of the car and the latter followed the former across the silvery gates and to the lavish flaps of elegant auburn-colored wood at the entrance.

Even before producing a key and unlocking the doors, Mr. Cortez looked into Mr. Louis’s eyes and chuckled. The dyes appeared again on his irises. They directly diffused…strewed…mixed-like just a moment ago-again! The only difference was that- this time, the diffusion seemed to consume a much longer time.

Mr. Louis felt a chill of fear. He was not a very imaginative person. It too is not natural for the mind to trick so much. Then, what was going on? His head felt heavy. Fatigue should be the reason.

As soon as Mr. Cortez forced the doors open, a posh light of a chandelier illuminated the whole hall. A staircase made of glass steps, classy murals on the walls, a row of paintings, and a red carpet - all added to the lavishness.

Mr. Louis was about to comment on the paintings (presumably painted by Mr. Cortez), when he discovered his eyelids felt so heavy that they were half-shut.

‘Let me show you to the guest-room,’ Mr. Cortez said, and he led him to a room, at the centre of a row of doors, which had its door wide open. The room turned out to be cozy and welcoming, and so did the regal bed, on which Mr. Louis slept that night.

And, Mr. Louis saw a dream…

Mr. Louis saw Mr. Cortez’s eyes again - the concoction of those colors around his irises.

Then the setting became dark.

‘Illusionist…illusionist…’ someone repeated these words.

Abruptly, Mr. Louis saw a streak of light falling vertically on Mr. Cortez, who was chortling.

‘Your brain can comprehend my colorful tricks pretty well I see. At first, I feared they won’t work out nicely! I’m glad your brain took my side and deceived you pretty well without getting it known to you,’ he said, and added, ‘oh! An advice - Don’t let your impetuousness prove you stupid ever again!’

The last sentence made anger billow up inside Mr. Louis. Who was Mr. Cortez to give him such an advice? But the rage that struck Mr. Louis grew to such an extent that it could not be the effect of the last sentence alone. His fury made sweat trickle down his temples.

Mr. Louis woke up.

But something seemed different; it took time for him to process - he had woken up on a park-bench, and that he was in a park! The sky said that it was nearly dawn.

He recalled something important and searched it desperately around the park - his car.

Mr. Louis’s car contained both his house’s key and his car’s key in its glove compartment, along with his wallet, and, Mr. Louis had almost forgotten - there was also a scrap of paper on which he wrote his address soon after he found his rented home.

But the car was nowhere to be seen.

Besides, that mansion, where he spent last night, where was that?

Mr. Louis dashed out of the park. He saw a newspaper-hawker on a bicycle and signaled him.

‘H-have you seen a b-black car...or a mansion...around here, somewhere?'

- ‘No-no! I haven’t.’

Suddenly, Mr. Louis recalled some important names related to last night:

‘Can you please tell me where P-Park-town, Fred’s Café are…around this l-locality?’

- ‘There is no Park-town or Fred’s Café around this locality! I grew up here but never heard of such places around here. Now, please let me go!’ the newspaper-hawker said, and hastened away.

Mr. Louis collapsed into a sitting position on the ground and covered his face with his hands. A combined fury and dissatisfaction consumed him, because…

The mansion was ‘just’ a false impression.

How could he forget about his car (his means of survival) by getting attracted to false impressions? Why did he allow his greed to do it?

That dream solved much of the mysteries which he hadn’t understood…

‘Illusionist’ was really what Mr. Cortez was.

Mr. Louis helped Mr. Cortez that night; didn’t leave him alone, and now the same Mr. Cortez had caused him a huge trouble.

Mr. Cortez tricked him with illusion, lured him with illusion, and walked off with his car, and the dream showed how Mr. Cortez did that.

Now that Bartholomew Cortez had Stephen Louis’s address, would he take his home away too?

But deceiving others doesn’t always make a person succeed, right?