As all the clocks struck 7 o’clock, William Sinclair moaned. No matter how many years he stayed, stuck in the same old routine, he still felt no more akin to it. As William sat up in bed, he rubbed his eyes and then flicked on the light, the sudden flood of light disturbed William. His night was plagued by strange lucid dreams, as they had been for several weeks now. Will stood up, and had a big stretch. Ignoring the prospect of opening the blinds or turning on a light, Will moved straight for the bathroom and ran the shower.
After the shower, he slipped on some simple clothing, nothing fancy, it was Sunday after all, and William was far from religious. He was curious at the least, but believed you were either born with the faith, or you weren’t, he was one of the ones who wasn’t, he thought, and he didn’t mind.
He walked into the kitchen, and put on the kettle, and cooked himself some breakfast. The morning was quiet, with only the faint sound of cars driven by business men on their way to work. William remembered being such a man, stressed out and weary eyed. His senses artificially boosted with coffee after coffee until finally, after 20 years doing the same thing in the same little cubicle, you retire.
Retirement wasn’t anything like William had imagined as a child. He sat down at the small living room table, and sipped his tea and ate his breakfast, staring outside at the garden. He remembered what the Garden used to look like, when his beloved wife was looking after it. William tried his hardest to look after the garden, like his wife, whose ashes were now scattered across the garden, would have.
He looked at the phone, sitting on the Kitchen Bench; it was time for the morning call. Every morning, William would get out of bed, have a shower, eat breakfast, and the next thing he would do was call his daughter. He stood up from the table and walked over to the kitchen bench, picking up the phone which gave out a little click as he lifted it from the dock. When he pressed the buttons, carefully guiding his shaking left hand, they beeped. The phone rang for a minute, as it always did, and then she answered. ‘Hi Dad,’ she said.
‘Morning, Vivi,’ greeted William.
‘You’re calling later than usual,’
‘Yeah, sorry, had trouble with the Bacon this morning,’ he explained.
‘Not a euphemism I hope, Dad?’ Vivi said jokingly.
‘Good morning to you too, Violet,’ said William, encouraging a topic change.
Will could hear Vivi giggle a bit through the phone. ‘Good morning, Dad,’ replied Vivi. ‘Oh yeah, I almost forgot,’
‘What is it?’ asked Will
‘Well, it’s my birthday soon, I’m having a party and I want you to come,’ explained Vivi.
‘Oh, Vivi, is it that time already? How old are you now, 28?’
‘30, Dad,’ sighed Vivi, ‘Anyway I want you to come,’
’30, good age,’ said Will. ‘It was at that age that –‘
‘- that age that you married my Mother, I remember dad,’ sighed Vivi, ‘You told me last year, and dozens of times before,’
‘Oh, of course, sorry, Vivi,’ Will apologized. ‘Well, what can I get you for a present?’
‘I’ll send you a invitation with the details, have a good day, Dad,’ she said, with a slight tone of frustration.
‘Okay, I love you, Vivi,’ said Will.
‘I love you too, Dad,’ and she hung up.
Will saw no better thing to do then buy his daughter a present, so he went back into the bedroom, and opened his closet. Searching through all the jackets, shirts and coats, he picked his old favourites. A black pea-coat, black suit pants, shirt, waistcoat and chisel shoes, all black, but how he liked it. He looked at himself in the mirror, huh, it still fits he thought as the memories came running back. Will liked to think of himself as a Mod in the early days, when he met “his girl”.
He walked to the door to the car-port, took the car keys from the hook on the wall and walked to his car. An old 70’s Ford Grenada sat in the garage most days, Will didn’t much to get out of the house for anymore, and he couldn’t say he liked it, but he didn’t hate it either.
He pushed the key into the ignition and started the old car up, with a rumble the sound of the old engine (which had been carefully looked after over the years, by the way). He clicked the button on the remote and the garage door started to open. Will backed out of the drive and off he went. On a Sunday morning, if he did go into town, he would find the parking lots practically deserted, today was no different. William made his way towards the shopping centre, passing one lady pushing a shopping cart, while trying hard to make sure neither of her two children run off. They ran and giggled around the place after each other, as their mother yelled at them to stay close.
‘Good morning,’ said William as he walked past the lady and her two children.
‘Good morning,’ she replied with a nod, before returning to the stress of her two kids and their play.
He walked towards the mall, quickly skipping across the street, even though no cars were to be seen, as if it was forced habit by now. The automatic doors slid open and a sudden chill from over worked air-conditioners came from inside, so much for a comfortable temperature, it wasn’t even cold outside and now William could feel a chill rush to his face.
The heels of his chisel shoes clicked and clacked against the floor as he walked past book-stores, cafes, department stores, record stores and other strange shops stylised towards women and gay men that even William had trouble understanding what exactly they sold or how they operated.
It was then he found the shop he was looking for, it was a little quirky boutique, the entry look liked the entry way into a sultan’s palace in an old silent film, as did the window display. Grand curtains framed the entry way, with gold linings around the thick deep and dark green fabric. Inside, all manner of strange ornaments, books on obscure subjects, exotic jewellery and at the back, a lone wrack of Vinyls from the psychedelic 60’s.
The shop, entitled “Haight-Ashbury, the Summer of Love”, took William back like an acid-flashback. The woman behind the counter was wearing a long dress, with a ribbon in her hair and a pair of John Lennon sunglasses with blue/green lenses hanging on a chain around her neck. ‘Hi man,’ she said, flicking through a magazine.
‘Hi,’ replied William, as he looked around, the surroundings were oddly familiar, as if he had just been asleep for a long time. He was torn between feeling entirely alienated and right at home, he walked down the aisle and passing a shelf he stopped at a strange box. Perfectly square, and strange, it had a button on the lid, as he pressed it down a head burst out on a spring. William jumped with shock as he found the wide staring eyes of a jack-in-the-box looking back at him. ‘What ever happened to turning the crank?’ William said, taking a big breath out.
‘Oh, got you did it, sorry, that isn’t supposed to happen, I think some kid fooled around with it and broke it. I’ve been meaning to get rid of it, but, you know,’ apologized the lady behind the counter.
‘That’s alright,’ replied William as he stuffed the head back into the box and closed it. Then he looked to the floor, and lying on the floor was a little pendant, without a chain. It was a little trio of butterflies; he picked it up, and walked to the counter. ‘I’m not sure what this came off, but I found it on the floor,’ he said politely.
‘That’s strange,’ she said, looking at it closely, ‘never seen it before, you can keep it if you want, might be a lucky charm.’
‘Very kind of you, thank-you,’ said William, as he tucked the little pendant into his pocket. He walked out of the store, and thought to himself, while it would be easier, and of course cheaper, just to go to one of the many craft superstores and by some chain, William had something better in mind.
He stepped onto the escalator, already spying what he was going straight for, a jewellers. An aura of gold seemed to glow from the shop. The shining rings, watches and necklaces seemed to give the impression that William had just walked into a modern-day commercialised heaven, where every little slice of cloud costed you at least one thousand dollars.
‘Hello sir, how may I help you?’ said the lady behind the counter.
‘I have this little pendant,’ explained William, digging into his pocket for the pendant. ‘I was hoping I could get a small chain for it.’
‘Yep, sure, just give me a moment, I’ll have a look in the back,’ replied the lady behind the counter.
The lady disappeared through a door behind the counter; William looked around the store. It seemed every surface except the floor or roof, seemed to bombard William with jewellery, even the counter, which the lady rested her hands on, was full of jewellery, but William managed to ignore this. The lady’s posture was straight and very professional, her clean cut suit was identical to those of the other women in the store. Everything was so ordered, so symmetrical.
The Lady reappeared holding a box in her hands, as she placed it on the table, William took a step back from the counter, which he had his hands placed on. He opened the box and in it were three chains laid out on a small cushion. ‘Now we have Gold, Silver and Mock-Gold,’ she said, pointing to each of them.
‘I’ll take Gold,’ William reached into his jacket pocket, and pulled out his wallet. As the lady told him the price, he took the money out straight away. It was expensive, but William lived comfortably.
He was a writer, and a successful one, but it was his love that was his muse, and once she passed he knew he could not go back to his keyboard. But none the less, every fortnight he would walk to his mail box to find a envelope with not too much money, but enough to live comfortably. William retired at forty-five, he was now forty-eight.
‘Thank-you,’ said William with a smile, picking up a little box with the chain in it.
‘Have a nice day, sir,’ said the lady.
‘And you,’ he replied.
William walked out of the store and towards the car-park, it was a little busier now. It was almost mid-day, everyone was grabbing lunch. He walked to the car and hopped inside, placing the box on the passenger seat. He had a favourite place to lunch, it was a Chinese Restaurant called “Lucky-Jen’s Spring Temple”, it wasn’t too far away.
From the outside, it looked like a Buddhist Temple, but of course, the illusion was ruined once the signs advertising “Yum Cha Parties Held Every day!”. He walked inside, into the waiting room where exotic fish swam around in small fish tanks.
‘Mister Sincare!’ said a voice with a very strong Oriental Accent.
‘Little Juan!’ replied William, with a grin.
‘Your table, sir?’
‘Yes, thank-you, Miss Jen.’
Little Juan led William to his table, he picked up a fortune cookie from a bowl, before following Little Juan. They arrived at the table, and William sat down. ‘Right by the window, you want the usual?’
‘Yes, thank-you,’ replied William, playing with the Fortune Cookie in his hands.
Little Juan turned to walk away, but then she turned back. ‘It’s bad luck to open a Fortune Cookie before a meal,’ she said with a smile.
‘I’ll keep that in mind.’ replied William, holding up the cookie in his fingers.
Little Juan walked back to the kitchen and disappeared through a door. William looked out into the pond, gold fish swam around and bamboo water features created a comfortable atmosphere, but sadly, it was ruined by other loud patrons and a busy kitchen, but that’s a restaurant.
A voice seemed to come from the noise in the kitchen. ‘Mister Sinclair is here!’ he thought he heard a voice yell. And then another, slightly older, Chinese woman came from the kitchen. Wiping her hands with a towel. She carried a drink with her, William’s special cocktail.
‘Hello!’ said the woman as she neared William’s table. ‘So good to see you, I brought you your special cocktail.
‘Ah, Mother Jen. Good to see you, too,’ replied William with a smile. ‘Thank you very much for the drink, Mother Jen. How are you keeping?’
‘Good, very busy.’ she replied.
‘I can see, I have to say –‘ William lent back in his chair. ‘I could never do what you do every day.’
‘Thank-you, Mister Sinclair,’ she said with a little bow. ‘How is Vivi, haven’t seen her in a long time.’
‘No, I guess you haven’t.’ said William, thinking. ‘She’s good, I think, she’s turning thirty next weekend.’
‘Thirty! Wow, she’s truly grown up now!’ Mother Jen exclaimed. ‘Sorry, I should get back in the kitchen, I’m sure your food is almost ready,’ said Mother Jen as she bowed, and turned to walk to the kitchen.
‘Of course,’ said William. ‘Oh, and thanks for the chat!’ he said, trying to catch her before she left.
She turned back, briefly. ‘My pleasure, Mister Sinclair. I’ll be back out in a moment.’
He picked up his drink, and took a sip. Just as good as usual, and Mother Jen wasn’t lying. In a matter of minutes, Little Juan weaved her way through the tables, carrying with her William’s food. ‘Here you go, Mister Sincare,’ said Little Juan placing the food on the table.
‘Ah, thank-you very much, Juan,’ said William with a smile.
‘Our pleasure,’ she replied, smiling and giving a subtle bow. Little Juan turned, and walked away.
Time to dig in William thought to himself, he picked up his chop-sticks and picked up the first piece of Lemon Chicken, and it was just as delicious as it always was. William did indeed dig straight into his meal, and it seemed like no time at all until it was completely gone. Then he was left, sitting at the table looking at an empty plate, and next to it was a napkin, on the napkin laid the Fortune Cookie.
Mother Jen walked back to the table. ‘All done, Mister Sinclair?’
‘Not quite yet, just one last little thing,’ he said with a kind, almost cheeky smile as he waved the Fortune Cookie up near his face.
‘Ah, of course,’ she said. ‘May I sit down?’
William laughed. ‘Of course, of course,’ he said.
‘Hurry up, Mister Sinclair,’ she said, almost entranced. ‘Let’s hear it.’
‘Okay then, here we go,’ said William, grasping hold of each side of the Fortune Cookie carefully. Then, crack! he pulled the little piece of paper and read the message written in red ink.
‘What does it say?’ asked Mother Jen.
‘That isn’t bad luck too is it?’ joked William.
Mother Jen chuckled. ‘No, Mister Sinclair, it’s not.’
‘Okay then, it says “It is better to be the Hammer than to be the Anvil”,’ William paused for a moment, ‘I’m torn between saying “What the hell does that mean? I think I picked a dud” and simply “Holy Shit”.’
‘Oh no, you cannot pick another, and no cookie is a dud. It was fate that drove you to pick up this fortune,’
explained Mother Jen, pointing at the Fortune Paper. For a moment, William forgot he was speaking to a cook at a restaurant, and for a moment, believed that he was speaking to a wise, enchanting and mystical priestess in a Chinese Temple.
‘Well then,’ said William, holding the piece of paper up for Mother Jen to see. ‘Time to be the Hammer!’
‘Now careful,’ a serious and deep look grew in Mother Jen’s eyes. ‘Do not forget about what is being shaped, why is the Hammer striking the Anvil?’
‘Now that’s thinking,’ said William, standing up at the table. ‘Why are you a cook, surely you’d make more money as a Tarot reader?’
A large grin grew on Mother Jen’s face. ‘Oh no, I am a cook, and if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have just given you your own fortune,’ she explained. ‘Now, I’ll go grab your bill,’
She stood up, smiled, picked up the dishes and walked back to the kitchen. Eventually, she returned with the bill, and William followed her right back. He paid the money, and then bid his farewells. He walked into the waiting room, ‘Oh, Mister Sincare! Have a nice day!’ said Little Juan from behind the front counter.
William walked up to the counter and picked up a prawn cracker from the bowl. ‘And to you, Little Juan. May you sleep soundly tonight, good-bye!’ he exclaimed, what was a little grin was now a real smile. He bowed down, as if he had just performed in a Shakespearian play.
William found himself in a much brighter mood, but he was not surprised, the food at Lucky-Jen’s always made him feel like this. He walked outside, and got straight back into his car. William could go and look around shops for a while longer, but this did not interest William. It wasn’t the first time since her death, but William felt a growing urge to rip out the old type-writer for nostalgia’s sake, but you never know, he may go home and start hacking out a new novel for the masses.
The drive home was easy, not much traffic and plenty of good old 60’s music. He listened to Bob Dylan, telling us to gather round to tell us that times are changing, or it was the Small Faces speaking of their drug induced dreams and detest for “modern education”.
He came to his driveway, which curved awkwardly up to the garage. The “awkward curve” troubled William when he moved in, and while he had gotten over it, he still felt a little bit of either frustration or amusement when relatives, friends or other people who tend to drive up your driveway, get stuck and can’t get out.
As he reached the tip, he picked up the remote for the automatic door for the garage and pressed the “open” button. As it began to slide open, he noticed in his rear view mirror and un-familiar person across the street, holding a hose. The water was half-off, and the person clearly wasn’t paying attention, but his eyes seemed fixed to William’s through the reflection in the rear-view mirror.
William drove into the garage slowly, until the tennis ball, which was hanging from the roof by a string, hit the windscreen. He picked up the box on the passenger seat before making his way back inside. As he closed the door and walked into his study, out from behind his desk crawled his cat. ‘Hello Napoleon,’ said William as the black and white cat walked slowly towards him.
Napoleon meowed back at William and brushed himself up against William’s leg. He looked up at William, showing off his one green and one blue eye, the rest of him was black, except for a while belly and four little white socks. ‘Hungry are we?’
‘Meow!’ Napoleon exclaimed, demanding attention immediately, looking up at William like a spoilt millionaire, and for a cat, Napoleon didn’t fall far from the “spoilt millionaire” category. William put the box on the table and then turned to walk down the hall, and into the kitchen. By the time he got to the kitchen, Napoleon was again, meowing, loudly and with seeming frustration.
Napoleon had the greatest meow that William had ever heard, and it begun on day one. On the way back from the Vet, after adopting Napoleon, William heard the great voice, and he wasn’t going to soon forget it, for it followed him every day. William poured Napoleon a bowl of food.
As he put away Napoleon’s food, he caught out of the corner of his eye a great storm cloud, rolling and tumbling towards his house. Storms were becoming more common, and William loved them, he look out the Kitchen Window, over the garden the storm began to grow closer.
From the laundry, he picked up a basket, realising that he had better bring the washing in from the line if he intended to be able to wear them any time soon. He walked outside, and already the wind was picking up quite a pace.
He walked up the steps until he reached the clothes line. ‘Afternoon, Will!’ said a voice from over the fence, the
fence was low on one side of the house, but William was good friends with the neighbours, so it wasn’t an issue.
‘Afternoon to you to, Ewan,’ replied William, looking over the fence. ‘How are you, today?’
‘Good, good,’ said Ewan, nodding. ‘How about yourself?’
‘Keeping out of trouble, I guess,’
‘Good to hear,’ said Ewan. Ewan wasn’t necessarily tall, he was a reasonable height. He was a robust man, but didn’t seem to use it, if you asked William what Ewan’s job was, he wouldn’t be able to tell you, but he’d tell you that Ewan’s father was a professional weight lifter. Ewan, like his father, possessed a thick bushy moustache, covering his upper lip. Suitably for his father’s tough appearance, their last name was Butcher.
‘There was a man across the street, watering his lawn,’ said William, leaning on the fence. ‘He just looked at me, I’d almost call it staring, but that would make me the rude one,’
‘Hasn’t stopped you before,’ said Ewan jokingly.
‘Hey!’ exclaimed William. ‘It was weird, I didn’t recognise him.’
‘Yeah, the guy with the Gold Sun-Glasses?’ asked Ewan.
‘Yep, that’s the one,’ replied William.
‘He’s a strange one, a few of us have tried talking to him, he talks, just nothing useful,’
‘I see,’ said William, slightly confused.
‘Best to leave him is I think,’
‘My pleasure,’
‘Oh yeah, I got the strangest fortune today.’
‘Oh yeah?’ said Ewan. ‘I didn’t know you went to Fortune Tellers.’
‘Yeah, well, not exactly, it was a Fortune Cookie.’
‘Ah, of course,’ said Ewan. ‘What did it read?’
‘It said “It’s better to be the hammer, then to be the anvil”, or something like that.’
‘So you’re going to be the hammer?’
‘Well, that’s what I thought at first, then the cook told me not to forget about why the hammer is striking the anvil. So I’m staying undecided at this point.’ Explained William
‘What is meant to happen, happens, right?’
‘Well, if you want to talk in Clichés you’re on the dot there.’
‘Okay, well, we’ll talk later then,’ said Ewan, heading back inside.
‘Definately, bye Ewan,’
‘Bye William!’ replied Ewan as he walked into his house.
William, with all the clothes from the line in the basket, walked inside. He gave in to the urge, and sat down in his desk and wrote for the rest of the day.
***
He found himself in strange clearing, deep in a grove, strange, twisted trees swayed in the breeze. The leaves were the greenest of greens, and the sound of the wind was strange, like singing.
‘William Sinclair,’ said a woman’s voice, it seemed to echo through the grove as it swayed in the breeze. ‘William Sinclair,’
Regardless of his surroundings, something seemed off and whatever it was, William was frightened of it.
‘William Sinclair,’ continued the voice, as if it was flowing through the air like a fine mist.
William tried hard to muster up the strength to reply. ‘Hello?’ he said timidly.’
‘William Sinclair,’ said the voice as a gust of wind ran through the grove.
‘Yes, I am William Sinclair,’
‘William Sinclair is that you?’ the voice seemed familiar.
‘Yes, it is,’ said William, started to get frustrated.
‘William?’ the voice was his daughter’s.
‘Yes, what do you want!’ he demanded, the frustration seemed to take control of him immediately, and his emotions got away from him, like they always do in a dream.
‘The Mad Duke will see you know,’ explained the ethereal voice of his daughter, her voice seemed to grow dull and sickly.
William then suddenly felt compelled to turn around, when he did, he saw a door, standing right behind him in the middle of a grove.
He put out his hand and clutched the golden, ornate door-knob. As he turned it, he was overcome with fear, he did not know what to expect on the other side. He woke up, and found himself in his bedroom, but it did not last, he fell back a sleep in a matter of minutes, as if something needed to be discovered.
This time, he found himself in a desert, a massive sea of dunes, which seemed to stretch to the horizon and further. ‘Help?’ said a tiring and withering voice from behind him. William turned around, it was a man, his skin red and burnt, he was covered in sores and dressed only in a loin cloth. He was trapped in a twisted dead tree, it’s branches twisted up and around each other, making the perfect cell.
William wished to say something, to ask the imprisoned man many questions, but if he did, he was afraid the wind would throw up sand into his mouth. Instead he looked around, and it seemed that dozens, then hundreds, then thousands of the twisted tree prisons began to appear.
There was a rumble from beneath the sand, as it began to churn and twist beneath his feet. A beast appeared, it was enormous and scaled, yet it wasn’t a lizard, it began to run for William. It’s feet thumping against the sand, William ran for the sea of endless dunes, with every step he seemed to be getting slower, as if something heavy was weighing him down, allowing him to be devoured by the beast.
The sound of thumping was replaced, without William noticing, by the sound of a gigantic snake slithering through the sands. He tried his hardest to sprint away, but he still felt like he was being pulled backwards. He could feel the beast nearing him. He began to sweat, and tears welled up in his eyes, he began to cry and he was overcome with fear until finally, he fell in the sand, and closed his eyes. Everything was black.
***
William woke up every morning the same way, in an awkward position tangled in twisted sheets, from a restless sleep. Every night, strange and horrific dreams possessed him, often repeating over and over again.
And then it was the morning, of Vivi’s birthday. The party was held on the second floor of a pub in town. He walked up the stairs and into the party; William kept the necklace in a box in the pocket of his coat. Vivi was surrounded by her friends, so William sat himself down at a table and waited for a moment.
Eventually, Vivi caught sight of William, and immediately made her way over to the table. William stood up, and she gave him a great big hug. ‘Dad, when did you arrive?’ she said, happy to see him.
‘Not too long ago, having a happy birthday?’
‘You should have told me you were here, and yes I am.’ She said, with a cheeky smile.
‘I would have, but I didn’t want to tear you from your friends,’
‘Oh Dad, don’t be ridiculous. They’re my friends, they won’t bite.’
‘I know, I’m sorry,’ said William. ‘I have a present for you,’ he explained, digging into his pocket. ‘Here,’ he said, holding out the little black jewellery box.
‘Oh my, what is it?’ said Vivi, taking it from William’s hand.
‘Open it,’
She opened it up, and the little butterfly pendant was looking straight back at her. ‘It’s gorgeous!’ she said, as it sparkled in the light above.
‘Happy Birthday, Vivi,’ said William.
‘Thanks, Dad,’ she said. ‘I’m glad you came.’
‘I like what you’ve done with your hair,’ said William. Her hair was long, straight and black, with a straight fringe at the front.
‘Thank-you, I got it done today,’ she said, playing with it a little.
‘You go back to your friends, I’ll be fine here, Vivi,’ said William, kindly.
‘Okay, thanks again, and thanks for coming,’ said Vivi. ‘Talk later,’
‘Of course,’
William sat alone for a little while, until he was joined by another woman. She was of reasonable height, not small, but not tall, and her hair was gold and wavy, but its colour gave the impression of a bad colouring job.
‘Hi,’ she said.
‘Hello,’ replied William.
‘I’m Miranda, Samantha’s mother.’
‘Vivi’s friend? Nice to meet you, I’m her father,’
‘I know who you are, I’ve read some of your books,’
‘Is that so, I’m charmed,’ said William with a smile.
‘I was quite a fan of yours,’ she said, she took a deep breath in. ‘Do you have a wife, or a partner, William?’
William paused for a second, ‘No,’ he said solemnly. ‘I did, but she passed away three years ago.’
‘Oh,’ said Miranda. ‘I’m sorry to hear that, I lost my husband four years ago.’
William was sure that she kept talking, but he barely talked back, instead he focussed on his daughter, and her friends, one in particular.
A man, he was young, either slightly older than Vivi, or slightly younger, he couldn’t be sure. He was flirting with Vivi, William shouldn’t mind, but something about this man felt off, just like the grove in his dream. He watched the man, and Vivi’s responses, she seemed uncomfortable, but began to fall for him.
The night seemed to drag on, until everyone began leaving. William stood up, and walked over to wear Vivi and the man were standing.
‘I’m heading home now, sweetie,’ said William. He gave her a hug.
‘We are too, have a good night,’ replied Vivi. ‘Thank-you again for the present,’
‘Happy Birthday, again,’ said William.
‘Oh, Dad, wait,’ said Vivi. ‘This is Eric. Eric, this is Dad, Dad this is Eric.’
‘Hey, good to meet you,’ said Eric.
‘You too,’ said William, still unsure about him. He turned to Vivi. ‘Are you getting a lift home?’* asked William.
‘Yeah, Eric’s going to take me home,’
‘Okay, have a good night,’ said William. ‘Good to meet you Eric,’
William could see Eric’s arm around Vivi’s waist in the reflection of the glass door. ‘You too, Mr. Sinclair,’ he said, as William walked out the door. ‘You too.’
Hope you enjoy it, and please review! This is an unedited, unabridged version, so editting would be grand!
I would like to agree with Wonder that most of the time the MC was doing something. That or this or that. It was getting too much. Also, the neighbour part could have been brought more into the limelight. You could have cut short on Meow for now and brought her traits later on. Just the traits, not her.