The barmaid was a tired-looking girl, probably in her mid-20s after a shower, but in that moment she could have been anything from 19 to 47.
“I know what you’re thinking.” He said as he slipped the last of his martini down his throat. “Does he come here often? The answer is no.”
Marcus wrote the words hoping that getting them out of his head and onto paper would somehow make the nightmare go away, but like the bite of hard liquor or the smell of rotten meat, that kind of isolation lingered.
The words scrawled across the walls read,
‘Only two ways to enter.’
If you were offered a potion that could make all your wildest dreams come true, but at the end of an hour you’d die, would you take it?
It had all happened to fast but had felt like the perfect storm, a breakthrough to a world he didn’t know existed.
Seven by D.I. Jolly Bethany sat alone at her desk, sipping tea and impatiently waiting for her dream to fade. It was her least favourite of the ones that reoccurred because it was both the most realistic and the one that took the longest to leave after she woke up. It had started, as far…
It was 7 am when his alarm started screaming, telling him he’d lain awake all night.
Thursday night wasn’t the ideal drinking day, but my week and been especially shit so I had no love left for my job or what the bosses thought of my red eyes and dirty shirts, or if they did notice that I had been in same clothes for the last three days.
“Find somewhere soft and warm, take a couple and enjoy the ride.”