Sunday, November 25, 2012

Psychobyte 5.1

This is what I'm working on at the moment... it's an in-between-byte. In between soundbyte and databyte - it's called psychobyte 5.1.
(Just because it is.)

Excerpt: (warning: rough as guts - this is an actual first draft.)

Psychobyte 5.1:
Chapter One
On the Edge of a Broken Heart.

I tripped over a tequila bottle on my stumble to the bathroom. Light streamed through the window hitting my eyes with its full force. I winced. The morning was going as well as could be expected considering the empty tequila bottle. A long hot shower improved things enough that I could clean my teeth without throwing up.
The phone in my room rang as I emerged from the steamy bathroom.
I threw two aspirin into my mouth and swallowed before they made me gag, ignored the phone, picked up the empty tequila bottle and went down stairs. I placed the bottle in the recycling bin outside the backdoor with utmost care.
No sudden movements or loud noises.
Fragile best described my being.
The lid on the bin closed. I opened it again and peered inside. I counted four tequila bottles. Four. They were just what was on top. The bin was over three-quarters full of empty bottles both wine and tequila.
No wonder I felt so rough.
I headed to the kitchen and made coffee.
The kitchen phone rang. I ignored it. The coffee maker grumbled, hissed and spat. I leaned on the kitchen counter and stared at the flashing amber light on the phone while the smell of fresh brewed coffee filled the room.
The amber flashing light taunted me.
Somewhere down the hall, I heard my cell phone.
“I’m not fucking home!” I hollered into the empty house. My fingers dug into my temples trying to work the headache away that spiked shards of glass into my skull with my yelling. “Oh God,” I groaned. “Never again.”
The phone on the counter rang again. My hand flew out and smacked it. The phone fell and smashed onto the floor. Pieces of phone bounced across the tiles and pain soared through my head.
“I said, shut up and I meant it.”
My cell phone started up again. I poured my coffee and went down to my office. From the shelf above my desk, I took a pair of sunglasses and put them on. There was a bottle of aspirin on the shelf. I took two with my coffee. The message light on my office phone flashed. Every phone in the house held messages and was alternating between ringing and flashing. I sipped my coffee and pressed the power button on my laptop while I considered sitting at my desk.
I tried my chair. It felt normal. I set my coffee on the left of my laptop. It felt normal. Absently my right hand pressed the message button on the phone.
The robotic voice announced, “You have seventy-five messages.”
“Seventy-five,” I whispered to the computer.
It didn’t care. The screen changed. Skype signed in automatically. An orange square flashed in my task bar. Twenty-six Skype messages. A quick right-click and quit Skype got rid of that problem until next time I fired up the laptop.
The phones down the hall started ringing again.
Being a sucker for punishment, I clicked on my email program icon. I finished my coffee before the hundreds of emails finished downloading. Glancing at the subject lines as I scrolled told me all I needed to know.

Copyright Cat Connor 2012


L.W Wedgwood said...

You've got me hooked, Cat. Love the sense on silent desperation I see here, and I love the way this scene makes me laugh and want more.

Cat Connor said...

Thank you!

Thanks for dropping by. We're a rare breed in Upper Hutt... being thriller writers an' all.

I see you...

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