Friday’s Fiction: Part 1.1 [Warning Explicit Language]

I walked between the oppressing mahogany doors, taking a deep breath and composing my face into a scowl. They like it better if you scowl. I aimed for the high-backed leather chair, designed to make you feel uncomfortable, trapped by it’s arms. Instead, I slid into it sideways and flung my legs nonchalantly over the armrest. These guys sure know how to do dramatic, luckily so do I.

I assumed a bored expression, inside I was starting to get anxious. Studying my nails I surreptitiously took in the shattered coffee table – the one my lovely colleague had taken home a souvenir of – and blood spatter that looked suspiciously like arterial spray. Maybe I had more to worry about than I thought. I dismissed that thought as quickly as it came, I’m their favourite operative, at least I keep telling myself that.

“Quite comfortable are we?” I jumped at the voice, I couldn’t process why it had came from behind me. “My dear girl, you are losing your touch. You didn’t scout the room as you entered.” A figure materialised at my shoulder, clearly the mystery speaker had been hiding in the recess behind the door. Reluctantly I turned to look at them.

I took in the planes and valleys of his face, my heart hammering in my chest. A stranger, a stranger that I felt I should know. He was beautiful, in a purely technical way. The slant of his cheekbones, like razorblades, and the deep green of his eyes were enchanting. Get a grip Girl! A Beautiful stranger in the Boss Man’s office can only spell trouble. I immediately tensed and stepped away, he stepped forwards.

I was trapped.


Friday’s Fiction: Part 1 [Warning Explicit Language]

  Why, oh why, did today have to happen? I haven’t a clue how I’m going to explain losing the car and losing Finn. I mean, I didn’t lose Finn per say, he got his head chopped off. Nice I know, but that’s how it will look on my record – which is tarnished enough as it is. Not mentioning the boot load of £50 notes that went up in a puff of a smoke.

  Once again I’m in Hell’s waiting room. I have been ‘summoned’ to this plush, wood-panelled room to await my fate on a designer chaise lounge. Beatrice the perfectly coiffed and preened receptionist is tapping away  on a keyboard with her acrylic nails. I would love to peel them off her fingers. Stupid receptionists, they always have a full view of the room, in her case, in front of the double doors that will consume me and possibly destroy my life.

  Shouting from behind those doors catches my attention, followed by the unmistakeable sound of smashing glass. Moments later they swing open spewing forth a slight, dark haired man with a noticeably wobbly gait and splintered glass embedded in the skin under his left eye.

  ” What are you staring at girl,” he snarls in my direction. I can’t help but giggle, which causes the man’s brow to pucker in anger. He affords me one last glare and stumbles to the exit. Clearly, he didn’t get the pay rise he wanted.

  “You can go through now,” I stand, my mood lightened by the ridiculous fool that came before me. All I did was lose property and a partner; that guy asked for a pay rise, and if all they’re doing for that is smashing faces through tables, I have nothing to worry about.

Friday’s Fiction: Intro [warning explicit language]

  Here we go, my serial fiction post starts here, we’ll see how long it lasts. As always you’re not under any obligation to stay, just the fact this post exists is enough for me.

  These post may be quite rough – I haven’t decided whether I’ll go with the flow or deliberately plan out what I’m going to write [this first post isn’t planned].

Enjoy, or not.


   Have you ever had one of those days where everything goes wrong? Today is one of those days.

  Unfortunately for me, today is also one of those days where things don’t just go wrong, they get fucked up entirely. Take my attendance for example – I manage to get to every single lecture, workshop and suicidal-thought inducing seminar and on the one laid back day where all I have to do is show my face, I miss it. My getaway car doesn’t just breakdown or run out of petrol; It explodes. My partner in crime doesn’t just take a knock to the head, he loses it.

  Clearly I’ve pissed off the powers that be, because today sucks.


Thought I’d keep it short and not-so-sweet for a first posting – maybe get yor brain juices flowing, let me know what you think, whether this raises any questions with you or if you think there’s anything I’ve mucked up.

– AR