Dysania #atozchallenge

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Dysania; the state of finding it hard to get out of bed in the morning. 

My phone alarm clock rang, breaking the pleasant dream I’d been having. I tried to ignore it but the noise was too loud. Reaching out, I felt for the bedside table and my phone. My fingers met only air.

Grumbling, I rolled over and tried the other side. My fingers hit my phone and without looking, I tapped the screen until the alarm stopped. Abandoning the phone, I snuggled back down. The heaviness of sleep wrapped around me. I drifted away, feeling only warm and safe.

I was shaken awake by the alarm again. Fighting the tangle of blankets, I searched blindly for my phone and heard a thudding noise. My phone lay on the floor, the alarm still going. I picked it up and hit the off button. It was half seven. Flopping back on the bed, I wondered why I’d set such an early alarm? Mornings had never agree with me, so I worked nights.

Still half sleep, I looked at my phone’s diary and saw I had a job interview at 9am. Things clicked together and I scrambled to get ready.

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Silence

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Everything was too loud and bright; birds singing in the trees, dawn peering around the curtains. A cat meowing to be let in – her cat? Then someone’s whistling and echoing footsteps. A car engine started as she reached over and turned on the lamp which triggered an explosion in her head that sent her back down to the pillow. Groaning, she tried to get up but knew she wasn’t going to make it. She reached for some water and pills, taking them quickly. Then searched for her ear defends and a blind fold.

Silence at last.

 

(Inspired from; https://lindaghill.com/2017/12/27/what-is-just-jot-it-january-2018-rules/ with thanks).

This Sunday

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This Sunday, I just want to lay in bed with you and spend the whole day snuggling.

Window #writephoto

 

Pressing my hands to the lattice window, I imagined I was touching the red roses that were blooming on the other side of the clouded glass. I could feel their soft, velvet petals warmed by the sunlight and breath in deeply their heavy perfume.

Resting my cheek on the cold glass, the realisation that I could no longer recall the smell of flowers disheartened me. Sighing, I turned away and went back to the massive bed which dominated the tower room which was my cell.

(Inspired by; https://scvincent.com/2018/01/04/thursday-photo-prompt-window-writephoto/ with thanks).

Clock

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Liz lay awake, listening to the echoing ticks of the clock in the living room as 2am arrived. She wasn’t use to the new house so sleeping was difficult. The bed felt too hard and the pillows were not her own. Strange shadows crossed the window and walls. The air smelt like fresh paint, wood and clean sheets.

Liz turned onto her side and came face to face with Bex, her girlfriend, who was fast asleep. In the dark, Liz couldn’t make out the soft lines of Bex’s face or her dyed rainbow coloured hair. Liz moved slowly, hoping that maybe she could snuggle against Bex and hold her. That position might help settle her down. However, Bex was curled up too much on her side.

Sighing, Liz wondered, how can you sleep with that damn clock ticking away?  

Turning back over, Liz looked up at the ceiling and breathed deeply. Shutting her eyes, Liz pictured the clock. It hung high above the grey stone fireplace, screwed to the wall. It’s face was yellow stained and rust was coming through in small patches. The metal frame the clock sat in was a rusted dark red almost black colour whatever the frame had originally been was long gone. Then there were the stumpy pointed hands; black and stumbling as they made their way around.

I wish we could remove it, Liz thought, but it’s screwed too tight. Maybe I can stop it from working then cover it with something?  

With her mind now focused on something Liz, felt more awake then ever. Tossing onto her other side, she shut her eyes and tried to let everything go. However, the ticking clock thundered in her ears, breaking the stillness like a screaming baby.

Throwing the sheets back, Liz got out of the bed, put her slippers on and fumbled through the darkness to the door. A small slit of light was coming through so she opened the door enough to fit then closed it quickly behind her. The hallway came into focus before her, the light casting down to touch the next door, the stairs and the front door.

Liz crept downstairs, turned away from the front door and went into the first room. She turned on the light and looked up at the clock straight away.

‘You’re ticked your last tick,’ she said under her breath.

Glancing around, Liz spotted a smaller hammer in a box. They had been using it to put nails in the wall to hang up some pictures. Grabbing it, she then had to go out into and into the dinning room to get the step ladder. Dodging the piles of boxes and the handful of furniture which had been temperately stored there, Liz got the ladder.

Setting the ladder up at the foot of the fireplace, she climbed up and came face to face with the clock. Smiling, Liz raised the hammer and swung it into the centre of the clock. There was a tinkling and a rain of glass. The hands stopped in shock and a large dint appeared middle way, in-between twelve and six.

The ticking paused but then continued as if nothing had happened.

Liz struck the clock face again. Harder this time, letting out a gasp as she did so. This time the hammer went right through the clock, the dint stretching to a hole exposing the cog mechanism inside.

‘Stay stopped this time!’ Liz threatened.

 

Silence filled the air as the clock froze. Liz smiled, waves of stress leaving her. Then a police siren blasted and Liz wobbled on the ladder. Crying out, she clutched the top and curled her slipped feet around the rung she was on. Dragging in deep breathes, she hurried down the ladder.

Dropping the hammer, she walked back upstairs. Feeling chilling, she was grateful to slip into the warm bed. Curling up, Liz shut her eyes and prepared to drift off. Though as sleep claimed her, Liz heard a very faint tick tock.

No, that’s not the clock, Liz thought.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Liz’s eyes flew up and she shot up from the bed.

‘That damn clock!’ she shouted.

‘Huh? what?’ Bex mumbled.

‘I broke the clock, but it’s still going!’

Bex rolled over, stretched and yawed before saying, ‘what clock?’

‘The living room one. It’s been driving me mad!’

Bex paused then reached out and turned the light on. Turning to look seriously at her girlfriend, she answered, ‘I don’t hear anything.’     

Breakfast #FridayFictioneers

Humming to himself, he cut some slices off the loaf of bread. Then he paused, spotting the heart shaped hole in one of the slices. He frowned then with a shrug, put all the slices in the toaster and carried on with preparing the breakfast.

When it was done, he took everything upstairs  and placed it on the bed before his new wife.

‘As promised,’ he said, ‘and look at this…’ he picked up the slice with the heart shape, ‘it was like this when I cut it. Do you think it’s a sign?’

‘For sure,’ she replied and kissed him.

(Inspired from; https://rochellewisoff.com/2017/09/13/15-september-2017/ with thanks)

Summer Cold

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You had been feeling run down all of yesterday but you had thought you were just tried after running from meeting to meeting. Now though, as you wake up, you realise you have a cold. Struggling to get up, you hope a shower and a cup of tea will help. Doing that seems to help but even before you get dressed you know you’re not going to make it.

You phone in sick and crawl back to bed, feeling guilty. You should go in but your head is pounding, your nose dripping and your eyes feel so tried, you don’t feel like you’ve just been asleep. You pull the duvet over our head, nestle into the pillow and let sleep cart you away again.

Melting

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It was too hot and she felt like she was melting away. Trying to find the energy to get up, knowing a cold shower would help, she pushed all the bedding away. She lay there wondering if this was how the Wicked Witch in OZ had felt. Wishing someone would throw water at her, she give up the struggle and began dozing off again.

Peace #writephoto

I had been wandering around for a few weeks looking for a quiet spot where I’d be undisturbed to finish editing my latest novel. All my normal places; my study, my bedroom, the library, the park, the coffee shops and pubs I haunted, hadn’t allowed me to complete my work.

It wasn’t lack of motivation, determination or inspiration that was stopping me, it was more the background distractions. So, I had come out here to the middle of the woods to find the peace I needed. It was a bright hot day, unusual English summer time weather but also a week day so most people were trapped in work and school.

It had been awhile since I had last strolled or ran through the woods, so I was surprised to come across the wooden sculpture of a bed. It was made out of thick, but smoothed down tree trunk cut in half with a smaller part of the trunk shaped into a pillow.

I sat down, thinking it would be too hard to sit for long, but actually it was quite comfy. Settling back against the pillow, I set up myself to work and some good hours later I had finished editing my novel and was napping in the dappled shade.

 

(Inspired from; https://scvincent.com/2017/07/06/thursday-photo-prompt-peace-writephoto/ with thanks)

Sundays

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The only thing Sundays are good for is laying in bed, reading books and drinking tea.