Fiction Fragment: Wake-up Call

The dreaded novel is back in production – the following is a sneaky blick-breaker/first draft that has already been combined with something else to be a bit different in the typed up main draft. Confused? Just roll with it.

I woke from a dream of confusion and pursuit into a tangle of bedsheets and the hollowed eyes of a dead girl. I wish I could say it was the most horrifying thing I’d experienced this week. With everything that was going on my nerves were not as calm and sanguine as I might have hoped.

My scream was embarrassingly shrill. Autumn flinched back and disappeared just as Kay barrelled into the room. She glared at the spot our guest had just been standing in, as if daring her to reappear.

“I’m okay; just startled, that’s all.”

“Keep away!” Kay hissed to the empty air. I couldn’t help chuckling, which earned me a glare of my own.

“I think she was just curious Kay. I wasn’t having the most restful sleep; you know how I thrash about.” Kay pulled a face but came over for a kiss anyway.

” Well it’s time you were up anyway. Everyone’s here and coffee’s brewing. Better put some clothes on so you don’t frighten anyone else before breakfast.” She rubbed noses with me in lieu of another kiss, and straightened back up. 

I could hear sounds from the other room now I was more alert, but I was still glad of the warning. The prospect of walking into a room full of relative strangers in only my skivvies and no warning was enough to start my stomach churning.

There you have it – my dirty little secret: I’m not a morning person, and especially not in company. I’d rather square off against the flayer of pixies than face people before I’m dressed and caffeinated.

Ten minutes later, I felt up to rejoining the human race. Well, a number of its representatives in the next room anyway. Kay had grabbed some of my bulkier and more shapeless clothing from the wardrobe and left them out, so I pulled them on and tugged everything back more or less where it was supposed to be. Then I inspected myself in the mirror.

I looked pale. The bags under my eyes had seen better days and had obviously called for reinforcements. I ruffled my own hair a bit to try and tease some form and shape to it, but resigned myself to it being beyond help for now. I just hoped everyone else was having a bad hair morning too.

About Tim Maidment

Writer, House Husband, Library Person, Raconteur, Poly, Queer and Bon Vivant. You were expecting something simple?
This entry was posted in Fiction, fiction fragment, novel, writing and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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