Lingonberries, part five

Bassim

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Would you please correct the mistakes in the fifth part of my short story?

I had strange visions. The disembodied voice asked me, “Sune, who are you?” I felt moving deep into my past. I was in the womb, touching the soft tissue of the placenta with my fingers. My pulse was thumping into my ears. I was inside my veins, moving with the blood flow. I heard the strange voice all the time, “Sune, who are you?” until I shouted, “I’m just an ordinary man. I don’t wish harm on anyone,” and then there was silence and darkness.

Another scene appeared. I was in a mental hospital. The building was enormous, like a large airport terminal, all in glass, many storeys high. Thousands of patients roamed around the large halls, barefoot and in white togas. I was among them, confused and desperate to come out. I watched the blue sky and saw the trees and flowers outside, but the thick glass panes prevented me from breathing in their smells. Instead, I was suffocating in the stench of excrement and urine wafting from the overflowing toilets. I was pacing up and down in that mass of people until PA announced that patients should go to their beds for inspection. I watched with anxiety as the doctor in black, and two nurses also in black went from one bed to another as he delivered his verdict. When my turn came, the nurse said, “Sune Andersson, considered dangerous for himself and society, had been with us for more than five years.” I felt the doctor’s cold eyes piercing me. He flicked through the papers the nurse had given to him and, without looking at me, said, “We’ll keep him for five more. We can’t have such people walking free outside.” As they moved to another patient, I yelled through my tears, “Please, no! I’m an innocent man.” They paid no attention to me.

I woke up thirsty and exhausted. I went to the washbasin, opened the tap, cupped my hand under it, and drank the tepid water. My head was dizzy, as if I had spent a night drinking heavily. My stomach ached and I leaned over the toilet bowl and retched, but nothing came up. I slumped on the mattress to gather my wits. I had nothing to hide, was never accused of anything, and never even got a traffic ticket. Politics and the military had no interest for me. I didn’t even bother to vote. How could anyone insinuate that I was a Russian spy or had anything to do with Russia? How could a carpenter doing his job or searching for his dog in the woods become a suspect? Surely, they must have mixed me up with someone else. The door would open again, and a high-ranking officer would come inside and apologize. They would offer to drive me home, pay compensation and assure me this mistake would never happen again. He would praise my honesty and my calm and assure me they had learned their lesson.

And indeed, the door opened again, but it was the guard with my meal, which was the same as the previous one. I was reluctant to eat it for fear of being drugged again and suffer nightmares, but hunger was stronger than my fear. After I had eaten, I was pleased that my head was clear. I pondered about the interrogator who spoke Swedish with an accent. He reminded me of the American draft dodgers who had found refuge in Sweden during the Vietnam War. Despite living in Sweden for years, they always spoke Swedish with an accent. I was convinced he was an American too, although sent to Sweden by his own government. Only an American could have been so obsessed with Russia, although our own government often told us that we could never trust the Russians, and we had to be prepared to defend us against an eventual aggression. Officially, Sweden was neutral, but in reality, we were part of the NATO. Had I by chance come across a secret military base which Americans and Swedes had built in this dark forest in the case the war broke out one day? This could have been one of the greatest military secrets after the Second World War, and it could easily become my grave. I thought about my wife and daughters and imagined how they panicked. My wife must have run to the police to report me missing when I had not returned in the afternoon. What was I going to tell them if I ever came alive out of this place? Nobody was going to believe me. They would call me a madman.

I paced the narrow cell for a while and then went to sleep. I was awakened by the two guards coming inside. They blindfolded me just as they did the first time and led me to the interrogation room. The same three men awaited me there and ordered me to sit down. They asked me the same questions they asked the first time, and I gave them the same answers. The man in the middle was aggressive just as before, and was as disrespectful as well. He seemed to have a grudge against me, or maybe it was just a well-rehearsed game they all played because his two colleagues showed the same calmness as they did on the first occasion.

Before the guards took me away, the man in the middle warned me never to talk to anyone about what I gone through. “We know where you live, and we can make you and your family disappear off the face of the earth without a trace,” he said, shooting me a murderous scowl.
When the guards left and the door closed, I sat on the mattress and stared at the grey wall. I felt that something was missing inside me. They had ripped it out, and I knew I would never be able to find it. I wondered how I was going to live a normal life again without feeling suspicious of everything and everybody. What would the people think of me when I told them my implausible story that I blacked out while searching for my dog and then got lost in the forest?
TO BE CONTINUED
 

Tarheel

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First paragraph, third sentence. Say:

I felt myself moving deep into my past.
 

Tarheel

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Second paragraph. Fifth sentence. Say::

I was among them, desperate to get out.
 

teechar

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Another scene appeared. I was in a mental hospital. The building was enormous, like a large airport terminal, with/enclosed by lots of glass walls, [STRIKE]all in glass,[/STRIKE] many storeys high.

I was pacing up and down in that mass of people until the PA announced that patients should go to their beds for inspection.

Sune Andersson, considered dangerous [STRIKE]for[/STRIKE] to himself and society, has
been with us for more than five years.

I went to the washbasin, [STRIKE]opened[/STRIKE] turned on the tap, cupped my hand under it, and drank the tepid water.

Politics and the military [STRIKE]had no[/STRIKE] were of no interest [STRIKE]for[/STRIKE] to me. I had never [STRIKE]didn’t[/STRIKE] even bothered to vote.

and we had to be prepared to defend [STRIKE]us[/STRIKE] ourselves against an eventual aggression. Officially, Sweden was neutral, but in reality, we were part of [STRIKE]the[/STRIKE] NATO. Had I by chance come across a secret military base which the Americans and Swedes had built in this dark forest in the case the war broke out one day?

I thought about my wife and daughters and imagined how they would have panicked.

What was I going to tell them if I ever [STRIKE]came[/STRIKE] made it alive out of this place?

I was awakened by [STRIKE]the[/STRIKE] two guards [STRIKE]coming inside. They[/STRIKE] who blindfolded me just as they did the first time and led me to the interrogation room.
.
 
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Tarheel

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Say:

Had I by chance come across a secret military base which the Americans and Swedes had built in this dark forest in case war broke out one day?

And:

What was I going to tell them if I ever made it out of this place alive?
 

Tarheel

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Say:

They asked me the same questions they had asked me the the first time, and I gave them the same answers.
 

Tarheel

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Say:

After the guards took me back to my cell and left me there....
 

Tarheel

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Bassim, I am eagerly waiting for part six.

This might be your best one yet. Even though I know Sune makes it out of there alive, I want to know what happens next.

Okay, I'll try to be patient.
;-)
 
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