Speechless by James D. Irwin

Everything was black and white. Lloyd thought he must be dreaming. Usually he dreamt about appearing in another sort of film altogether, but this was almost as good. But Lloyd wasn't dreaming. He pinched himself, and it hurt. His monochrome dream had become an absurd reality.

Lloyd got up. He had always been a big fan of old black and white films, and found it all quite exciting. He dressed, and stepped out onto the street. At one end of the street was a Model T Ford. Although it was only a milky silver, Lloyd knew it was gleaming fresh cream. Everything was quite and peaceful. Even the man dangling from the clock tower wasn't screaming for help.

As he walked down the street he heard occasional bursts of jaunty piano music that seemed to come from nowhere. Outside a restaurant there was a dishevelled tramp. Lloyd felt the inside of his pocket, and threw the character a few coins. He entered the restaurant. The place was nearly full, but no-one was eating. A waitress showed Lloyd to a table. She was beautiful--- glamorous like a movie star. She brought Lloyd a menu, and whilst he read it he imagined himself doing obscene things to the waitress. He decided on the Salisbury steak, because he didn't know what it was, but heard people mention it on TV shows.

The waitress returned, pencil and pad ready to take Lloyd's order. He opened his mouth and made all the movements that should have resulted in him saying 'I'd like the Salisbury steak, please, and a glass of beer.' But no sound came out. He tried again, the waitress waiting patiently. Lloyd tried again and again, failing each time. After twenty minutes the waitress began to get impatient. After half an hour she got angry and left. After forty minutes it occurred to Lloyd that he could point at the menu, like you do in foreign restaurants when you can't pronounce anything. About an hour and a half after first walking in, Lloyd finally got his Salisbury steak. It had not been worth the wait. As he left the restaurant he noticed it was now a lot busier. The silent, skeletal customers had followed Lloyd's example and were now frantically gorging themselves on long overdue lunches.

The sun was shining brightly outside, and the whites and creams and dark greys were blurring into each other. Lloyd tried to adjust his eyes as he crossed the street. He never made it across. His body, stained black with blood hit the grey asphalt, the witnesses cried out silent screams, and the milky silver Ford continued on it's noiseless journey to nowhere.