She thought she did need sleep. The past weekend was drunken and sleepless. But unfortunately, no gratuitous nakedness, nor lechery. The young boys were kept safe at home, by their parents. And a fever, there seemed to be a fever taking hold.
Where did all these stairs lead? All these marble steps. And in a gown, no less. Up twisting, quickly like chasing breaths.
Finally a door.
Chimes. The dog walks in, and settles on the pillow beside her bed, Tail thumping as it scratches that annoying flea. She reaches out to touch its furry head.
She has fallen into the sea. Arms flailing as her petticoat weighed her down. But not the sea. She could see the plaster floor, with demarcations of various countries. And a whale was about to pass by, its blue bulbous head half-open as if it were an outstretched hand begging. The teeth cut her, her pretty shredded dress but she was on its tongue then.
‘Oops, sorry, Were you sleeping? I just need to get the camera. Where is it?’
An outstretched finger from the bed.
‘ It’s early, Are you still hungover?’
Mumbles from the bed.
A hand on her shoulder, it gripped tightly. But a hand with no arm, no shoulder. She screamed. And screamed again.
She had never heard the absence of an echo before. So she pulled off the hand, breaking a few fingers and walked on. A whale’s tongue is strangely dry.
The outline of the trees outside her window, someone had switched on the kitchen light below. But she needed sleep.