Morning all. I am super happy today. I have a new book out. It is now available on both Amazon and Smashwords. I’ll post a proper book release announcement in a moment but I just wanted to do a little happy dance about finally getting the book out. It is called Through the St. Claire Gate. And is science fiction. Light science fiction. I think the category is now what they call science fantasy maybe. I’ll have to double check my terms. Anyway that is for later, for now there is the morning writing prompt, so lets get started.
Thursday, March 11th: I lost track of time.
I lost track of time. Not an unheard of event, especially when there was a good book involved. This was a good book. I was deep into the action, fighting the monsters that crawled from the depths of the ocean, one distended tentacle wrapped around out hero slowly choking the life out of him when the alarm went off.
It startled me out of my fiction and I blinked. I listened to the alarm, trying to remember why I set it as I shook free of the fiction. My grandmother called it literary blindness. It was when a story took hold so deeply that I had a hard time seeing the world around me. The alarm was one that didn’t stop until it was turned off, unlike the other alarms in the house. It was why I used it as my alarm of last resort.
I blinked suddenly remembering why I set it. “Oh no,” I said as I set the book to the side and uncurled my legs. If that alarm was going off, I missed the others. I stood and realized my foot had gone to sleep under me. I banked it on the floor until I was reasonably sure that it would hold me up. When the pins and needles began to tingle at the edge of the rubberiness I started shambling across the Livingroom in a stumbling gate. I looked like something out of a zombie film but I couldn’t take the time to wake my foot up properly.
I reached the alarm and pressed the button to turn it off. Silence filled the house and I checked the clocks. I was so late. I stumbled towards the bathroom. My hair was in a tangled mess. Most of it was pulled back but the parts that were down had been twisted into cords. I took the band out of it, letting it fall past my shoulders and I reached for a brush. As I brushed out my hair, I banked my slowly waking up foot on the floor, trying to accelerate the process.
I brushed out the tangles, but knew it was in no shape to be worn down. I pulled it back into a rather severe bun and pinned it ruthlessly in place. It wasn’t my best look but it was at least tidy. My foot was aching with the pins and needles now but the rubbery feeling was gone. I was less zombie shamble as I made my way towards the bedroom and more minor limp.
“Like a peg leg pirate,” I muttered as I made it to the bedroom. I moved across the room, towards the closet, catching sight of myself in the wall mirror as I did. My shirt had a coffee stain and what I thought might be a couple of mustard stains. The pants were fuzzy pajama pants. It would not do.
Not today.
I opened the door and saw the dress I was meant to be wearing. Luckily bare lags would be fine so I wouldn’t have to try and pull any form of hosiery on in a hurry. In addition, in a fit of preparedness , the night before I shaved my legs.
I hoisted the t-shirt above my head and dropped it onto the floor. I quickly added the fuzzy pajama pants. I tugged the dress from the hangar and slipped it over my head. It fell in a gentle swish around my legs. Knowing that any attempt at rushed makeup would wittier turn me into a freak or a circus clown I grabbed clear lip gloss and mascara. I applied them both with a speed that astounded myself. As I slipped on my shoes I realized the pins and needles were fading to little ghosts of pain. While I appreciated it, the feeling also meant I took too much time. I raced out of the bedroom door, grabbing my keys from the bowl by the door and stepped out onto the porch.
Ten til Midnight 