I started writing this story last year and then, however, was pulled away by Merlin, without a thought of going back and finishing. This was brought to my attention by a very creative blogger, https://pmaoaudioblog.wordpress.com/, who drinking and tea and eating scones with would most definitely be enlightening. Go say hello. If not, he may set the cabbage upon you!
Anywho, so here I am, taking the original story and hitting it with a dose of draft two, like a claw hammer to a saw-toothed wave and then I shall reveal…
Who Are The Doppelgängers? By CpSingleton © 2015 (Draft 2)
It was Saturday.
It will start off in its usual mundane, recovering from a heavy Friday night session, kind of a way.
It will be anything but commonplace by the end of the afternoon for one particular couple.
Information passed down the the ethereal channels tell us that they reside in a little detached stone cottage, in a close-knit village, just outside Penrith, Cumbria…
The door to the cottage slowly opened. A tall, heavy set man could just be discerned standing away from the light. Very much as a vampyre would.
His name, if you desire to know it, is Karl Somerset
After a moment he yawned loudly and stretched out his thick arms. The light appeared not to harm his newly exposed skin. Therefore we are led to the conclusion that he must be of human origin and not a dreaded bloodsucker.
He groaned loudly before stomping out of the shadow of the cottage doorway and crunching down the newly graveled drive that he shared with his wife to be, Jess. The sun danced between swiftly racing clouds, as if the wind was at work, causing the world around him to lighten and darken with an odd pulsating rhythm. There was, however, hardly a gentle breeze to flutter the privet hedge at the end of the short drive.
He groaned again as he reached the car that sat silently before him and leaned down to open it. He wasn’t in pain. Neither was he particularly pained. He, like most twenty-something men, would merely rather be back in the cocoon of his comfortable king-sized bed than traipsing about looking for the right toilet roll.
Up until meeting Jess, Karl’s Saturdays had been a relaxing day of pubs, football, pubs and takeaways. Since moving in together eight months ago, the glorious chill of the weekend had annoyingly started with the grocery shopping day.
She cared for grocery shopping no more than Karl. She wasn’t a natural gatherer, but she knew if it wasn’t done then they wouldn’t cook and then it would be a week of flavourless takeaways.
Even with heads as thick as lentil soup and very few memories of the night before, the screech of duty had to be answered.
‘Come on, Jess,’ Karl moaned, as his other half, dark hair tied up with a scrunchie for ease, appeared on the doorstep and slammed the door behind her. ‘We’re two minutes late, love. You know how hard it is to find a parking space in that crap hole if we’re late.’
‘Two minutes won’t make a difference, hun.’
They climbed into their made to specification red, soft-top, Mini Cooper Sports -with its distinctive white bonnet stripes and spot-lights- yawning in unison. Vossy, named from the letters on the number plate, purred calmly into life.
Karl moaned inwardly at the tedious predictability his young life was becoming: down the windy A6 to Penrith; a laborious trundle around the newly built Morrisons supermarket; fill Vossy up with overpriced fuel and then a zoom back down the M6.
Jess found it amusing that he was compelled to travel a different way back. It tickled her that the thought of returning the same route was abhorrent to him and yet he despised predictability.
Down the twisty-turny, quaint A6 they drove. They passed fresh fields teeming with spring lambs bouncing alongside their weary, put upon mothers. It was a serene scene that would make a plastic poncho wearing tourist sigh with glorious abandon. It was, however, as common as the air they breathed to the two Mini occupants and they took it similarly for granted.
‘Do you actually remember anything from last night?’ Jess asked, as she lowered the visor and checked out her puffy eyes in the tiny mirror.
‘Not much,’ Karl moaned. ‘I know that I didn’t drink a lot. Whatever that stuff was that Morry handed out it didn’t make me drink more. I just remember feeling huge and then small and that we were all in it together and some such crap. What about you?’
‘Similar. Bright lights, like fireworks and then giggling. A lot. You kept saying that we’d already gone home and then laughing. It was all a bit weird for me. Can we not do that again?’
‘I’ll be fine if we never do it. It all seemed a bit hippy-space-cakes to me, love.’
‘Good,’ Jess replied and smiled across at him as she laid her hand on his thigh.
Karl smiled back swiftly, before turning his attention back to the hairpin road that rushed towards his tired eyes.