A special New Year gift for everyone....
Jan. 1st, 2012 04:51 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
annwfyn.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
writing_shadowsOh. God.
The first thing that struck Venice was that she really really needed to vomit.
The second thing that struck Venice was the bookshelf that was approximately six inches above her head, as she tried to get up to scrabble for the toilet.
The third thing that struck Venice was that she had no idea where she was.
The immediate need to deal with the first of her New Year's Day realizations rapidly distracted her, as she crawled rapidly towards a corner of the room where the carpet looked mildly stained already.
"What happened?"
That question came to mind as she knelt on the thick pile carpet, watching an unpleasant stream of liquid in a variety of lurid colours sinking down into its soft white depths.
Faint memories came floating back to her through a haze of champagne and hallucinogens. Had there been a private jet? She was fairly sure there had been a private jet at some point, containing at least three peroxide blondes and a man who had waxed his chest mid-flight.
She checked briefly.
No knickers. Half a bra which really shouldn't be feasible.
Jesus Christ. She hadn't felt this bad in forever. And where the fuck was she anyway?
She managed to find her phone shoved in the top of a cowboy boot that someone had left on top of the coffee table. The GPS told her she was in Hertfordshire, which was more than a little confusing. How did she get to Hertfordshire? Why would she want to be in Hertfordshire? And, more importantly, how the fuck could she get out of Hertfordshire?
Her purse was nowhere to be seen, which meant that she wasn't going to be able to call for a taxi. Clutching her phone, she slowly began to stagger out of the room she was in, and in the direction of the window. She needed to see the sky, and then she needed to make some phone calls.
She hesitated at the window, flicking through a variety of different phone numbers she had saved on her phone, before settling on one name. Perched on the windowsil, one leg dangling out of the window, she lifted her phone to her ear.
The pick up came quicker than expected and Venice smiled a satisfied smile, followed up by a flicker of pain as the change of expression somehow managed to send a new rush of pain soaring through her skull.
"Darling!"
The first thing that struck Venice was that she really really needed to vomit.
The second thing that struck Venice was the bookshelf that was approximately six inches above her head, as she tried to get up to scrabble for the toilet.
The third thing that struck Venice was that she had no idea where she was.
The immediate need to deal with the first of her New Year's Day realizations rapidly distracted her, as she crawled rapidly towards a corner of the room where the carpet looked mildly stained already.
"What happened?"
That question came to mind as she knelt on the thick pile carpet, watching an unpleasant stream of liquid in a variety of lurid colours sinking down into its soft white depths.
Faint memories came floating back to her through a haze of champagne and hallucinogens. Had there been a private jet? She was fairly sure there had been a private jet at some point, containing at least three peroxide blondes and a man who had waxed his chest mid-flight.
She checked briefly.
No knickers. Half a bra which really shouldn't be feasible.
Jesus Christ. She hadn't felt this bad in forever. And where the fuck was she anyway?
She managed to find her phone shoved in the top of a cowboy boot that someone had left on top of the coffee table. The GPS told her she was in Hertfordshire, which was more than a little confusing. How did she get to Hertfordshire? Why would she want to be in Hertfordshire? And, more importantly, how the fuck could she get out of Hertfordshire?
Her purse was nowhere to be seen, which meant that she wasn't going to be able to call for a taxi. Clutching her phone, she slowly began to stagger out of the room she was in, and in the direction of the window. She needed to see the sky, and then she needed to make some phone calls.
She hesitated at the window, flicking through a variety of different phone numbers she had saved on her phone, before settling on one name. Perched on the windowsil, one leg dangling out of the window, she lifted her phone to her ear.
The pick up came quicker than expected and Venice smiled a satisfied smile, followed up by a flicker of pain as the change of expression somehow managed to send a new rush of pain soaring through her skull.
"Darling!"
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