Episode 27 - One Minute Ago
The exploration of Janet Hall's existence serves as a profound commentary on the human condition, particularly in the context of our relationship with time and memory. The initial portrayal of Janet as a woman besieged by a series of mundane failures resonates with many who find themselves grappling with the weight of their own imperfections. The pivotal moment of the shattered mug symbolizes not merely a physical breakage but an existential rupture, a catalyst for the unraveling of her reality. As time rewinds and grants her a do-over, the narrative delves into the psychological ramifications of such power. The ability to correct mistakes becomes an intoxicating allure that ultimately leads Janet down a path of self-alienation and disconnection.
The delicate interweaving of the extraordinary and the banal is masterfully executed, as Janet's journey through her rewound moments reveals the precarious nature of her grasp on reality. The narrative raises pertinent questions about the essence of identity—who are we when our memories begin to slip away? The peculiar phenomenon of time manipulation introduces a surreal element that heightens the tension, as Janet's increasing reliance on this ability leads to a gradual erosion of her relationships and memories. The unsettling presence of the shadowy figure serves as a metaphor for the consequences of her actions, embodying the darker facets of her psyche that she has attempted to suppress.
As the story unfolds, the audience is drawn into an exploration of the themes of ambition, failure, and the inherent desire for self-improvement. Janet's professional successes starkly contrast with her personal turmoil, culminating in a poignant reflection on the cost of perfectionism. The narrative compels us to consider the implications of our aspirations and the potential sacrifices we make in pursuit of an idealized self. In the end, Janet's struggle culminates in a chilling confrontation with her own shadow, a powerful embodiment of her internal conflict, leaving the audience with a haunting reminder of the complexities of identity and the fragility of our existence.
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Transcript
Imagine a world teetering on the edge of the familiar, a place where the fabric of the everyday begins to unravel, revealing glimpses of the extraordinary lurking beneath.
Speaker A:You're about to embark on a journey into the enigmatic, where the peculiar and the perplexing intertwine, where every tale twists the mind and tugs at the spirit.
Speaker A:It's a descent into the strange, the mysterious, and the unexplained.
Speaker A:This is when reality frays.
Speaker A:New episodes are published every Monday and Thursday, and when Reality Phrase is available everywhere, fine podcasts are found.
Speaker A:Before we move on, please hit that Follow or Subscribe button and subscribe and turn on all reminders so you're alerted when new episodes are released.
Speaker A:Today's episode contains one story entitled One Minute Ago Janet Hall's existence was a quiet collapse.
Speaker A:Not dramatic, not visible.
Speaker A:Just the slow wearing down of a person under the weight of repeated minor failures.
Speaker A:Her alarm always rang a little too late.
Speaker A:Her socks never matched.
Speaker A:She was the last one into meetings, the first to forget names, the kind of woman people described as fine with a slight pause because they couldn't remember more.
Speaker A:Her life was taking notes from the sidelines in conference rooms, managing spreadsheets and completing templated correspondence for her boss's signature mundane tasks, all that didn't require any special skills or training.
Speaker A:On the Tuesday it began, she dropped a mug.
Speaker A:It wasn't special, just office issued ceramic with a chipped rim and a faded logo.
Speaker A:It slipped from her hand in seeming slow motion, and she watched, helpless, as it shattered on the floor with a sharp, echoing crack.
Speaker A:Except it didn't.
Speaker A:The air tightened.
Speaker A:Time buckled like warped glass.
Speaker A:Her stomach flipped.
Speaker A:The mug was back in her hand, whole warm, steam curling from the coffee as if nothing had happened.
Speaker A:Her breath hitched.
Speaker A:The clock on the wall blinked at her.
Speaker A:9:14am but it had just been 9:15.
Speaker A:She was sure of it.
Speaker A:Her heartbeat grew loud in her ears.
Speaker A:She set the mug down, fingers trembling around her.
Speaker A:Her co workers typed and shuffled papers and sipped coffee.
Speaker A:No one noticed what had just unhappened.
Speaker A:Janet didn't speak of it, didn't mention it to anyone, didn't Google it.
Speaker A:But all day the phantom sound of shattering ceramic rang in her ears.
Speaker A:A week later, it happened again.
Speaker A:She was walking home from the grocery store, the plastic bags cutting into her fingers.
Speaker A:She wasn't paying attention.
Speaker A:She never did, and caught her toe on the edge of a curb.
Speaker A:She pitched forward, a bag of groceries splitting open and spilling across the sidewalk.
Speaker A:Her phone flew from her jacket pocket, clattering on the concrete and destroying the screen.
Speaker A:People looked at her, but no one offered to help.
Speaker A:A woman chuckled under her breath.
Speaker A:Shame flared hot in her cheeks, and Janet scrambled to scoop up everything, cursing herself and the sidewalk she had tripped over.
Speaker A:And then the reality around her stretched for the briefest of seconds, then snapped back.
Speaker A:She blinked and she was upright mid step, groceries still swinging from her arm, phone safe.
Speaker A:The world had rewound to one minute earlier.
Speaker A:She stood motionless, dazed by the perfection of it.
Speaker A:It wasn't just memory.
Speaker A:It wasn't deja vu.
Speaker A:Time had rewound.
Speaker A:She exhaled in sharp, shallow bursts and then laughter.
Speaker A:Soft, uncertain, but real.
Speaker A:Janet walked the rest of the way home without any further mishap, her mind whirling, trying to make any sense of what had happened.
Speaker A:Reaching her apartment, she paused as a man with a limp and a Saint Bernard on a leash exited the building.
Speaker A:He smiled brightly when he saw her, and the dog thrust its head forward in greeting.
Speaker A:She automatically returned the smile and scratched the dog's ears before she realized she couldn't remember either of their names.
Speaker A:The despite having been neighbors for nearly two years.
Speaker A:She brushed it off as the result of a long, tiring day at work, wished the man a good evening, and gave the dog a parting scratch.
Speaker A:But an hour later, as she prepared her dinner, she was still unable to recall their names.
Speaker A:She didn't recognize this was the first crack in her foundation.
Speaker A:She mulled over the two events of the day as she ate the meal she had prepared.
Speaker A:She questioned her perception of reality, briefly wondering if she had a brain tumor that was causing hallucinations even though she had no other symptoms.
Speaker A:Then she paused, a fork poised halfway to her mouth.
Speaker A:In both instances, she'd broken something a coffee mug and her phone.
Speaker A:Was it possible?
Speaker A:Janet dropped her fork on the plate and leapt up.
Speaker A:She searched the kitchen for something to break to test her hypothesis, but she wasn't willing to risk something she cared about.
Speaker A:So it took some digging before she found a mismatched glass salt shaker.
Speaker A:Holding her breath, she held it at arm's length and dropped it to shatter on the floor.
Speaker A:She waited, still holding her breath, but there was no ripple in the air, no stretch of reality that rewound the previous minute, just a mess of broken glass and spilled salt in the middle of her kitchen floor.
Speaker A:With a sigh of disappointment, she cleaned up the mess and tossed the remainder of her now cold dinner into the trash.
Speaker A:But as she dumped the plate, it slipped from her hand, banged off the edge of the can, and exploded on the floor.
Speaker A:Janet was immediately upset with herself for being so clumsy.
Speaker A:In elementary school, the other kids had called her a spaz because she was always the room briefly contracted before snapping back to normal.
Speaker A:Janet was standing over the trash, can, plate in hand, tingling with excitement.
Speaker A:She carefully scraped the plate and gently put it in the dishwasher and she understood.
Speaker A:Her entire life she'd been accident prone for no reason other than she didn't pay attention to what she was doing.
Speaker A:If there was something she could trip over or drop, she more than likely would.
Speaker A:As a child, and even into her teens, she had fantasized about a day when she wasn't a spaz.
Speaker A:She had stared up at the night stars, pleading with the universe to remove the curse of being a klutz.
Speaker A:Had her prayers finally been answered?
Speaker A:She tried to test it, but after bruising both knees and breaking several more objects, she resolved herself to the fact that she only received a do over as she thought of it for actions that were unintentional.
Speaker A:The next morning was like any other.
Speaker A:On her way out the door to work, Janet spilled coffee on her blouse.
Speaker A:Before she could mutter an expletive, rewind.
Speaker A:At the office, she accidentally replied all to an email rewind.
Speaker A:Each error or mistake was undone, and with foresight of her error, she was able to prevent it from reoccurring.
Speaker A:After the reset, she kept count.
Speaker A:23 rewinds.
Speaker A:By the end of the week, more than a month passed and people were noticing the difference in Janet.
Speaker A:Her work had become flawless.
Speaker A:No errors, no mistakes.
Speaker A:But the price for Janet came like a fog, creeping in silently.
Speaker A:Names went first, then memories.
Speaker A:She stood in front of a bakery she had visited every Saturday for years, and it looked foreign.
Speaker A:The sign was familiar.
Speaker A:The scent of bread was right, but it stirred no recognition.
Speaker A:At home, she turned to notes to remind her of her mother's name, her favorite book, her birthday, and even where she had been born.
Speaker A:She pasted them to her mirror, her refrigerator.
Speaker A:She put reminders in her phone, along with photos of her co workers with their names.
Speaker A:One morning she stared at herself in a mirror and tried to remember if the woman in the reflection was what she'd always looked like.
Speaker A:Then the woman in the mirror blinked, even though Janet hadn't, Sending an icy chill down her spine, Janet began to lose control.
Speaker A:Sometimes she would rewind for no reason.
Speaker A:Then the rewinds began to overlap.
Speaker A:She'd return to a minute she had already lived and find it slightly different.
Speaker A:She began seeing people mouth words they hadn't spoken yet, then speak words they hadn't mouthed and in the rewound moments, time broke.
Speaker A:Bent at the corners, sound muffled, colors muted.
Speaker A:The edges of the world grew soft and rounded.
Speaker A:One night, alone in her apartment, she saw a figure behind her in the reflection of her bedroom window.
Speaker A:It was her height, her outline, human shaped and featureless.
Speaker A:Its head turned just a breath after hers did.
Speaker A:She whipped around in fright, but there was nothing there.
Speaker A:The next day her favorite song played on her phone, but she couldn't remember why.
Speaker A:She loved it.
Speaker A:She found a diary filled with her own handwriting, but didn't remember writing any of what she read.
Speaker A:It was like reading the ramblings of a stranger.
Speaker A:Tucked in back were photos showing her hugging people she didn't know, places she had no memory of visiting.
Speaker A:She had snatched up her phone and opened the photo app.
Speaker A:Dozens of videos of her with a man she didn't know, on a beach she didn't recognize, at parties she had never attended, and with a group of friends she had never seen before.
Speaker A:Within a week, the figure was no longer hiding.
Speaker A:It stood in her reflections, in her bathroom mirror, in the polished surfaces of the kitchen at work, in the plate glass windows of stores.
Speaker A:It didn't blink.
Speaker A:It didn't breathe.
Speaker A:It only watched.
Speaker A:At first it mirrored her, then it didn't.
Speaker A:She turned left.
Speaker A:It turned right.
Speaker A:She smiled.
Speaker A:It smirked.
Speaker A:She began finding notes all over her apartment.
Speaker A:They were in her handwriting, and she felt a sense of creeping dread each time she read one.
Speaker A:I'm losing me.
Speaker A:She's not just watching, she's waiting.
Speaker A:Then she came home from work to find a sticky note she hadn't you're nothing without me.
Speaker A:She couldn't sleep, terrified of what might happen in the dark.
Speaker A:But an hour before sunrise, sleep found her.
Speaker A:In the dream, the shadow touched her face and her skin went transparent beneath its fingers while it became physical.
Speaker A:It stood in her bedroom now, beside her bed, in the mirror above the sink.
Speaker A:Its eyes were her eyes, only colder, hungrier.
Speaker A:She woke one morning to find a new note stuck to her mirror.
Speaker A:You wished for this.
Speaker A:I'm what you wanted to be.
Speaker A:The shadow didn't hide anymore.
Speaker A:It sat across from her at the kitchen table, hands folded, smiling faintly.
Speaker A:It spoke no words as it waited.
Speaker A:The following Monday morning, Janet sat typing at her desk, efficient, composed, precise.
Speaker A:Her co workers nodded politely as she greeted each by name, asking if they'd had a pleasant weekend.
Speaker A:She smiled at them, her teeth perfect, her face as flawless as a porcelain doll, her eyes gleaming with confidence and ambition.
Speaker A:For a few days, the break room was abuzz with gossip about Janet, there was both admiration and envy for what she had become.
Speaker A:Several co workers commented they wished they could be better, too, just like Janet.
Speaker A:That's it for this episode.
Speaker A:If you're enjoying the stories, please support the podcast by buying me a coffee.
Speaker A:The link is in the episode show notes, and I would greatly appreciate your support.
Speaker A:New episodes of the When Reality Phrase podcast are released every Monday and Thursday.
Speaker A:If you're enjoying the journey into the strange, the mysterious, and the unexplained, be sure to press that Follow or Subscribe button and turn on all reminders so you're alerted whenever an episode drops.
Speaker A:Until next time, thank you for listening to When Reality Phrase.
