Dream 2 (on possibly)

Okay, the one word might be 'otherwise'.

See what you think:



The actress heard an alarm screeching in her ear. She sleepily smashed a hand onto the alarm clock, and rolled over. Still the alarm continued. She sat up, and blearily looked around. The room seemed unusually dark, and something smelled bad. She flicked the light switch on, and frowned as it didn’t light the room properly. She looked over. The light was on, she could just make out the dim glow of the light, but the room was still dark. Strange.

The lack of light, combined with the smell crept through her head, and found a memory of earlier days, years before, and abortive attempts at cooking. Smoke. The room was full of smoke?

Fire!

She leapt from bed, and hastily donned a dressing gown, covering her thin night shift. She felt her way to the door, and felt the doorknob with the back of her hand. Slightly above normal temperature.

She opened the door, and was confronted with more smoke. She coughed harshly, and looked about. Through the smoke, a fire exit sign could be seen.

She followed the signs, keeping low to the ground, and covering her mouth with the sleeve of her gown. On the fire exit, she met several other people, and followed them to the ground, and the front of the hotel. It was ablaze, flames leaping hundreds of feet into the air. Already, emergency sirens could be heard in the distance, wailing, coming closer.


Soon, she was sat on the back bumper of a police car, wrapped in a blanket.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” The female police officer asked.
“I’ll be fine.”
The policewoman moved off to interview another witness, and the actress was left to her thoughts. She could hear a clicking somewhere nearby, but she ignored it.

The policewoman returned.
“Do you have anywhere to stay tonight Miss?”
She thought. “No, I don’t.”
“She has somewhere to stay, don’t worry.” A male voice interrupted.
She looked around, and saw a familiar figure walking towards them. He was wearing a pair of white jeans, a cream coloured sweatshirt, and a long cashmere coat. His hair was dishevelled, as if he’d just woken, a large camera was slung around his neck and a notebook was in his hand.
“Alex? How did you get here? Are you stalking me?”
Alex laughed. “No, I’m working. Fire, journalist, camera, news, money. See how this works?”
“Alex, don’t.”
The policewoman interrupted. “I’m confused. Do you know this man?”
“Yes, he’s an old friend.”
“So you will stay at his place, right?”
“I’m not sure…”
“Anna, you have nowhere else to stay. You might as well stay at mine. Come on, it’s not far.”
Anna thought for a moment, then nodded and stood up. She handed the blanket to the police officer, and Alex gallantly gave her his coat. Despite the flames, it was a cold, November night, and Anna was shivering.

He helped Anna to his car, and sped off into the night, arriving at a modern looking building some minutes later. He wrapped an arm around her, and helped her up the stairs, and she was too tired to argue.
He opened the door, and ushered her into a spacious living room. She took a moment to loom around, and was quietly impressed.
The room was open, and inviting. There were a few chairs, a low coffee table, and a large mahogany bookcase. A pile of newspapers were stacked against one wall, and a computer sat at a desk in the corner, a news page scrolling across through the gloom. She could hear classical music playing quietly, and Alex swore softly as he realised he’s left it on when he left, along with the light. He retrieved a remote, and pressed a button. Abruptly, the calming flutes ceased, and a soft rock song fluttered gently from the speakers.

“You discovered my guilty pleasure.” He grinned, sheepishly.
“Classical music, Alex?” Anna asked incredulously.
“Hey, don’t knock it. Nothing’s better for relaxing.”

He offered her a seat, and moved off into his kitchen. It was separated from this living room by a waist high wall, so she watched him move around comfortably, seemingly at ease for the first time that night. He hummed quietly as he pulled random cups, spoons and bottles from cupboards, and flicked on the shiny steel kettle. It whistled amicably, curiously providing a counter to his own whistling, before it clicked, and the noise ceased. Alex poured the hot water into two cups, and added something she couldn’t make out, stirred it in, and brought them back into his lounge. He handed a cup to her, warning her to be careful with the hot mug, before sinking into the chair opposite her own, watching her with an amused smile on his face.

She curled up in the chair, and shivered slightly. His face fell, and he pounced from his seat to a thermostat, and turned the wheel. Within a few moments, Anna felt the room temperature rise slightly, and she gave him an apologetic smile.

“No worries.” He smiled back at her.
She remembered that about him. His desire to be the perfect host. He was singularly old fashioned in that respect, having taken his father’s lessons on chivalry to heart.

“Comfortable?” He asked, smiling again.
“Mmmmm.” She moaned, as she curled up n the soft armchair he’d given her.
She sipped at the drink. Hot Chocolate.
“Haven’t you got anything stronger?”
“Yes, but you’re not getting any. You need something hot and sweet. You could have shock.”
“Oh, Alex” she whined.
“Don’t you ‘oh Alex’ me” he chided. “Drink the hot chocolate.”
She did so slowly, listening to the music, and enjoying the warmth of the room. Alex drank quickly, and disappeared, but she could hear his tuneful whistling as he darted from one room to another.

The flat was quite small, but it’s open layout, and minimalist furnishings created the illusion of space. The floors were polished wood, and the lights were soft. The flat must be quite expensive to rent.
Alex re-entered the sitting room, and sank back into his chair.
“I’ve made up the bed in the main bedroom. I’ll take the couch in the spare room tonight.”
“Alex, I’ll take the couch.”
“No, I won’t let it be said I let someone sleep on a couch while I took a double bed. Especially not a woman. My father would kill me.”
She chuckled quietly. “He would, wouldn’t he?”
Alex nodded thoughtfully, before raising his eyebrows ever so slightly as a thought occurred to him.
“Are you hungry?”
Thinking about it, she was. She nodded, and was soon greedily devouring a plate of hot buttered toast.
“Thanks Alex.” She said between mouthfuls. “I’m glad one of us can cook. I’d probably start a better fire than that hotel if I tried.”
“That was my first thought when I saw you.” Alex jokily confessed. “Do you remember the first time you tried to cook for me?”
They shared a laugh. “I thought a fry up would be easy.”
“It is, but you don’t try and cook it all in one frying pan, especially one with that much oil in.”
“I know that now” she moaned.

They laughed again, and then sat in companionable silence for a moment, lost in memories. Memories of days long gone, when a penniless journalist and an out of work actress shared the rent on a cheap flat in a god-awful part of London. They’d been poor, but happy at least. Look at them now though, five years on, both successful beyond their wildest dreams, but sat away from each other, their feelings long since gone, or buried beneath years of separation.

“Anna…” Alex began.
“Alex, don’t…”
“Why?”
“You know.”
“No, I mean why did you say ‘otherwise’ earlier? What were you going to say?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me.”
“Alex, please don’t. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Oh course, if you do not wish to talk about it. I won’t press you any further.”

He sighed, and got up, collecting the two empty mugs. He took them to the kitchen, and washed them under the tap. He replaced them in the cupboard he’d fetched them from. The two adults were silent, and the CD could be heard gently playing away in the background. Abruptly, it stopped, and the stereo whirred as it searched for a new disk.

Alex cursed, and leapt for the remote, and caught hold of it a moment too late. The next song began, and a heavy beat, further enhanced by a digitally altered voice blared through the speakers

Anna restrained herself for a moment, before bursting into peals of laughter. “Alex, Techno?”
He blushed. “Shush Anna, tell no-one.”
She jumped to her feet, and lunged for his telephone. He flew at her, and grabbed her round the waist, lifting her from the ground. She wriggled free, but bumped into the coffee table, lost her balance and cannoned into Alex, knocking them both to the floor, in a tangle of limbs and dressing gown.

They laughed, and Alex made a grab for the telephone still in Anna’s hand. She leant back, and he fell forward, rolling her over, and ending up on his elbows above her.

He stared into her eyes for a moment, as they both caught their breath. He leant forward, her face edging closer to hers, and she raised herself up towards him. Her noses gently met, and the physical contact broke the spell. Anna climbed to her feet, and quietly replaced the telephone, while arranging her dressing gown.

Alex sighed, and then got up too.

Wordlessly, the woman sat back down on the soft armchair, and closed her eyes, breathing slowly.

Alex returned to his own seat, unhappily.

Anna broke the silence. “I’d better get to bed. I need to be at the airport for nine in the morning. Which room Alex?”
s
Alex stood. “That one.” He pointed.
She got to her feet too.
“I’ll call a taxi in the morning. I won’t disturb you.”
“You will not, Anna Traybern. You wake me, and I’ll drive you there.”
“Thank you.” She breathed.
“Good night, Anna” Alex said sorrowfully, opening his arms.
She stepped into his embrace, and hugged him tightly, burying her head in his shoulder.
Alex lowered his head to hers, and rested his cheek on her head, ignoring the smell of smoke emanating from her hair.
The embrace brought back memories. For a moment, he could have sworn they were back in their cheap flat, two young people, trying to break into their respective careers. Having to pawn furniture to pay their rent. The love he’d felt for her then came flooding back in a wave of affection.

He felt her head and shoulders shake, and heard her murmur something.
He tensed, before drawing back slightly to look at her.
“Anna?”
“Because otherwise.” She repeated.
“Otherwise what?” He asked, feeling the anticipation welling up inside himself.
“Because otherwise I won’t be able to leave again.” Anna finished, looking up at him, her face streaked with tears.
His puzzled expression changed to one of shock when she lifted her face to his, and kissed him.
She held the kiss for a few seconds before withdrawing again.

“Alex, I can’t do it again. I can’t leave.”
“Are you sure, Anna?” He asked, daring to hope.
“I just can’t. You don’t now how much it hurt last time.”
“I have an idea.” He muttered quietly.
“Oh Alex!” She cried sorrowfully, before kissing him again. “I’m so sorry.”

He stopped her kisses and apologies with a hand.
“It’s okay, Anna. You should get some sleep now.” He motioned towards the bedroom door.
She took a step back, and half turned, before catching hold of his arm.
“Come with me.”
“Alright.” He followed her into the room, switching the light on as he entered. He’d changed the linen on the double bed, and he stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame as she clambered into the large bed. She patted the duvet next to herself, and he came and sat on it next to her.

She smiled.
“Get in Alex; can you not take a hint?”
His jaw dropped, and the blush coloured his face the same shade as the crimson curtains across the room. Anna laughed quietly, as he undressed, and slipped into the bed next to her. She wrapped her arms around him the moment he lay down, and kissed his shoulder.

“I promise I won’t leave again.” She murmured sleepily.
“Okay, Anna. Get some sleep now.” Alex gently stroked her hair, until her breathing slowed, and she slipped off into sleep.



The next morning, Alex was woken by the sound of the power shower spewing out water. He smiled, and counted to five. After the fifth number, he heard a girlish scream, and he couldn’t help laughing. The shower always took a while to warm up, and Anna only waited five seconds to get into it. She was so predictable, but he was glad for it. He climbed from the bed, making it behind himself, and slipped into clean clothes, a pair of comfortable blue faded jeans, an old school rugby shirt, and a pair of Italian leather boots. He admired himself in the mirror for a moment, before stepping into the living room, just as Anna stepped from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, but dripping water all over the floor. He handed her a towel he’d brought from the bedroom, knowing she’d do this, and laughed again.

She wrapped the towel around her long golden hair, and stood up, surveying the man before her.
Alex calmly allowed himself to be sized up, and stared right back at her.

Her hair was covered by the old green towel, one corner of which was poking down over her forehead. Her sparkling blue eyes gleamed happily at him. A trickle of water followed the course of a stray lock of hair, down her forehead, between slim eyebrows, around her eyes, down her nose, over her full lips, and then onto her chin. From their, it fell past her neck, landing on her chest, and rolling down between her breasts, where it’s journey was sadly obscured by another towel. Still, his gaze continued it’s current velocity, now working from memory. Firm breasts, down to flat stomach, past shapely hips, to long, tanned legs, ending in her small feet. He lifted his gaze back to her face, seeing her mirror his actions. Their eyes met, and they both blushing, realising they’d both done exactly the same thing.

“I’ll make some breakfast.” Alex announced, stepping to one side to allow her passage to the bedroom. “There are clothes in the chest of drawers which you can put on.”
She smiled at him, and stepped away. He entered the kitchen, and began to cook the good old traditional full English breakfast. He used several frying pans, and didn’t fill any to the brim with oil, a fact he proclaimed loudly, to a snort of derision from the other room.

He was so engrossed in cooking the meal that he missed Anna’s entrance dressed in a pair of his old jeans, and a shirt which despite being slightly too long for her, was too tight in the chest. No doubt she’d chosen it that way, though.

He couldn’t help hearing her pick up the telephone, and a battered copy of the telephone directory, and he gave a strangled cry when he heard her conversation.”

“Hi, yeah. It’s Anna Robinson. I have a flight at 10:30? I’d like to cancel…No, it doesn’t matter. You guys always over book these things, there must be someone you can sell it to. What? What do you mean you have spare seats? I don’t care. No! No, I’m not flying later. I don’t want the damn flight! I’m staying in England!”

Alex slipped a hand over her mouth from behind, and craftily stole the phone from her grip.
“Hello? Hi, sorry about that. My friend has made a mistake. She does want the flight. In fact, we’d like another seat…..Okay…..Next to the original one if possible? Is that okay? It is? Oh, magnificent. You’re an angel. Thank you very much. Bye bye now. Bye!”

Alex replaced the phone handset, and let go of Anna, just in time. Her teeth met empty air, as he removed his hand from her mouth just before she bit him.

“Another seat?” She asked.
“I’m not letting you go alone.” He replied.
“You’ll come with me?”
“Oh course.”
“But, your work?”
“I’m sure there’s news in America too. Besides, I know a certain broadsheet has just lost it’s travel writer.”
The conversation ended at that point, and she threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him ecstatically.



From then on? Things went well. We made it to the airport on time, got onto the plane with a little difficulty. Anna had to stop several times to sign autographs, even for the customs guys. I was largely ignored in the rush, but more than a few of the men gave me jealous glares, but could you blame them?
America was great. Quite the experience and fantastic fun after I’d adjusted to the culture shock. I managed to write quite a few pieces, which got published back home. I was offered a position as a travel writer, something I’d never done before, but always wanted to try. The beauty of it was that I could simply e-mail my articles to England, allowing me to work anywhere in the world. I followed Anna from location to location, writing of my experiences as I did.

My book got published, and did well too. Anna took time away from her work to come with me on a signing tour across Europe and America. I must admit my book did much better in Europe and especially back home than in the US, but then again, breaking the American market is always harder. Still, the tour was good fun, and I’ll take some of those memories to the grave. I never thought I’d see a biker come up to me in a motel café and ask to have a fantasy book signed. Anna apologised after spraying her coffee across the room though, and I signed the book for the guy, and off we went again.

I proposed not long ago, and she accepted.

And this, dear diary is the end of our tale. Here’s your happy ending: It’s now 11:37 pm, on July 25th, 2005, and I am writing this in a hotel room in Sydney. It’s my wedding night. My wife is in bed, waiting for me.

We eloped, to avoid the hassle and inevitable problems of a celebrity marriage. Only a few friends were present, including good old Jimmy.

When we get back, only one person is being given rights to any article about our marriage. A journalist we can trust more than anyone else.

Me.

I’m not writing anything.

I’ll close this now with one thought. What if, two years ago, when Jimmy first gave me the ticket to the charity ball, what if I’d said ‘No’?

What if?

The actress heard an alarm screeching in her ear. She sleepily smashed a hand onto the alarm clock, and rolled over. Still the alarm continued. She sat up, and blearily looked around. The room seemed unusually dark, and something smelled bad. She flicked the light switch on, and frowned as it didn’t light the room properly. She looked over. The light was on, she could just make out the dim glow of the light, but the room was still dark. Strange.

A complete in change in style, you've gone from 1st person to 3rd, with a different character's POV too. Personally I don't mind, the different perspectives can help add detail to the story, but I know a lot of people prefer a story to be consistent.

“Alex? How did you get here? Are you stalking me?”
Alex laughed. “No, I’m working. Fire, journalist, camera, news, money. See how this works?”

Dues ex machina.

“You discovered my guilty pleasure.” He grinned, sheepishly.
“Classical music, Alex?” Anna asked incredulously.
“Hey, don’t knock it. Nothing’s better for relaxing.”

Chamber music might be relaxing, but those full orchestral pieces sure won't put you to sleep.

They shared a laugh. “I thought a fry up would be easy.”
“It is, but you don’t try and cook it all in one frying pan, especially one with that much oil in.”
“I know that now” she moaned.

Hee, sharing laughs at least shows the two are getting comfortable with each other.

“Because otherwise.” She repeated.
“Otherwise what?” He asked, feeling the anticipation welling up inside himself.
“Because otherwise I won’t be able to leave again.” Anna finished, looking up at him, her face streaked with tears.

Ah yes, that does make sense.

“Hello? Hi, sorry about that. My friend has made a mistake. She does want the flight. In fact, we’d like another seat…..Okay…..Next to the original one if possible? Is that okay? It is? Oh, magnificent. You’re an angel. Thank you very much. Bye bye now. Bye!”

Alex is a gentleman-making sure Anna won't sacrifice her career for him.

And this, dear diary is the end of our tale. Here’s your happy ending: It’s now 11:37 pm, on July 25th, 2005, and I am writing this in a hotel room in Sydney. It’s my wedding night. My wife is in bed, waiting for me.

Quite the summary, while it is nice to know 'how the story ends' you may want to leave that up to the reader since the story stands alone if you end it before the switch back to 1st person.

I’ll close this now with one thought. What if, two years ago, when Jimmy first gave me the ticket to the charity ball, what if I’d said ‘No’?

What if?

I agree, the 'otherwise' does fit the quiz topic.

Though I think in this case it's the one word that was not spoken (no) that really changed everything.

Hey, I read these both! Personally, I don't mind the point of view shifts, though I understand some people do.

I like the happy ending, and these two do make a pretty picture.