So with my lack of workload at the moment I need soemthing to do in the office that looks like work. Its been a while since I've written any kind of fiction because I don't normally have the time these days with the kids. But I fancied giving it a go, see if I still had the knack or whether another one of my few talents had dried up completely!
I've started to write a short story/novella/maybe even a novel and will serialise it on the blog here. That way I can write it in bite-size chunks and don't have to plan ahead too much. It might turn out to be a disaster but I'll give it a go.
It will remain unamed for now because I have no idea what is going to happen.
Without further ado...
PART 1
Through the window, past the translucent reflection of the building’s strip lighting, the flag billowed in the wind, providing the most energetic activity within my eye line. The hustle and bustle of the office had been reduced to bleary eyes staring at blinking screens and muffled conversations about meaningless subjects. The contrast between outside an in had never been so defined; the bright sunshine somehow failing to pierce the force field of gloom that held stay within the workplace walls. I glanced slowly around my desk, my gaze falling like a thousand particles of dust upon in-trays and post-its, each unmoved by my attention. A writing pad, filled with the busy scrawl of my handwriting, seemed entirely at odds with its surroundings, its list of tasks urgently insistent that I and my colleagues awake from the lethargic haze that enveloped us.
I, of course, had an excuse for my inactivity. I’m sure my colleagues would suggest the same, although I’m equally sure that such excuses would be half-hearted and not provide a particularly compelling case for the defence. But in my case, the reason is valid. I was awaiting a phone call and, in case you remain unconvinced dear reader of my sincerity, let me assure you that this particular phone call was one that had the potential to change my life.
So I sit at my desk, my thoughts caught half way between the dull grind of the airless office and the endless terrifying possibilities stretching out in front of me as a result of the phone call that I am waiting for. And I have been waiting for a long time.
When the phone finally rings it takes a moment to register as my mind, stupefied by the surroundings, takes its time to realise the actuality of what is happening. Then it sharpens and cuts through the haze and the hairs on my arms are tingling and I’m taking deep breaths trying to slow my heart. The pause between rings seems to last a lifetime. I reach across my desk and lift the receiver.
But I’m getting ahead of myself, for what use is the middle of the story without the beginning? And the beginning, my dear readers, is where we really should begin…
A very different office atmosphere, or maybe just a different interpretation. It’s a World Cup year and everyone has high hopes for the home nation. The sun has interrupted a particularly grey patch of recent weather and the anticipation of better times is palpable, as it often is at this time of the season. The government have cut our budget again and the effect is motivating, a backs to the wall attitude to soldier on regardless. That or a deep seated sense of denial. Either way the office feels a bit more alive these days, and despite my tiredness I also feel enthused with a sense of productivity.
Today also happens to be my birthday, which may add to my personal sense of optimism. I’m thirty and, contrary to popular wisdom, it feels like a good age to be. I’m looking forward rather than back, excited to still be young enough to take on the world while having a bit more knowledge about how to do so. They say the thirties are the new twenties and I believe them. I’d celebrated the previous weekend, going clay pigeon shooting with a group of friends and having a BBQ in the evening. There’d been some drinking and everyone had a good time. Today I was going for another drink, at lunchtime with some work colleagues. This probably meant my productivity would drop somewhat in the afternoon but I felt like I’d earned it and my boss was away on business so what the hell…
Lunchtime came and went, as did three pints of lager and a shot of tequila. The tequila was payback from a friend who’d never tried the stuff before I insisted she have a shot at a recent party. Not normally my chosen lunch time tipple but it did ensure I was less concerned about what was happening around me that afternoon. Until I received a certain phone call.
I was sat as my desk as usual, playing some random World Cup quiz game I’d found online in-between numerous trips to the toilet courtesy of the lager. I was mostly being ignored and ignoring my colleagues as they went about their regular business. When the phone went I was slightly irked that something, probably work related, should interrupt my procrastination. But I soon found myself trying to come to terms with what the person on the other end of the line was saying. It appears that someone has died.
Look out for Part 2, coming soon (ish)
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