The Curious Ones EP 7 -- Ate you a (video) content creator? Tap the link in my bio 🔥 -- Thanks for joining, @thtlondonlife 🙌 . . . . . . . . . . #curious #thecuriousones #curiouslystrong #curioustalk #curiousinterview #interview #curiouschat #thatlondonlife #thatlondon #london #londonguide #youtibe #youtuber #youtubeseries #youtubeepisodes #youtubetalkshow (at London, United Kingdom) https://www.instagram.com/p/Bp7luBoH6DD/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1s4x5zzg71jly
Accessed from the Archives of Dr Li / Classification: Highly Classified
Dr Li’s notes: Patient seems to suffer from deep childhood trauma, as well as delusions of grandeur. Seems to have a difficulty with relating to others, and dislikes making connections. Schedule future meetings.
Dr Li: This is just a simple game designed for me to get to know you better. Please don’t think too much about your answers, just answer with the word that you think of, or associate with my word the most.
JY: Go on, then. When does this session end, by the way? -- And oh, that shade of lipstick is unusually stunning on you. I’ve never seen anyone pull it off so well.
Dr Li: We have another one hour. Shall we continue?
JY: If we must.
Dr Li: We’ll start off with something simple-- the sun.
JY: The moon.
Dr Li: That’s right. Do you get it?
JY: Perfectly.
Dr Li: Alright, let’s begin. Home.
JY: Misfortune.
Dr Li: Adult.
JY: Alone.
Dr Li: Blood.
JY: Dreams.
Dr Li: Desire
JY: Crushed.
Dr Li: Future.
JY: Emptiness.
-- the conversation blurs, the tape fast forwards into garbled words and static, finally stopping at their final words --
Dr Li: Thank you for coming, Mr Lee. Please schedule your next appointment with the receptionist outside, shall we do... let’s say-- next week?
JY: Well, we’ll have to see. Frankly, I only came here to assuage my employer’s doubts. I’m sure the report you will return is... favourable to him. In fact, I’m sure of it.
“You have one wish. No take-backs, no refunds, no transferrals, no delays, and I am absolutely not responsible for whatever consequences your wish may have on your future, past or present.” he says, a glint in his eye and a quirk to the side of his mouth.
The atmosphere is light and you begin to feel warmer than usual. The whiskey in your glass holds an oily sheen, the ice seeping into nothingness. Your head begins to spin, and you wonder if someone’s slipped something into your glass.
“Well, I haven’t got all day.” he taps the table in consternation, and behind you, a clock chimes.
There are so many questions on the tip of your tongue-- who are you? What wish are you talking about? But what comes out is: “Can you bring my mother back from the dead?”
His face darkens, and immediately, he stands up, face hidden in the shadows of the dim lighting. “I don’t fuck with the dead. What’s done is done.”
You close your eyes reflexively-- he looks like he’s about to hit you-- and the clock chimes again.