Fane in a dark abyss with the grey monster at his back
Fane and the Grey Monster

The rattling of the window panes in their frames was a dull frequency that grated at his nerves enough to tell him he should be up and out of there.  The darkened room was only illuminated by the lifted rail line lights and a burning pink neon sign outside, blinking away Hotel Morrison.

Hotel. He sneered to himself.  It didn’t help that half of the evening had washed itself away in a black haze.  His stomach rolled maliciously, and pin pricks struck him behind the eyes. The hell did she give me? he asked himself as he groped around on the side table for the cold bottle.  Even looking at it, the scratchy script escaped him. He wanted to blame it on the darkness of the room, but it very well could be whatever was in the pipe next to the bottle. Morning is going to come way too soon. He grouched to himself as he put the bottle back on the night stand.  He scrounged around, trying to feel the texture of his shirt before it clasped around cold silk. Nope. He thought, tossing aside the bra he had grasped.

The woman next to him had started to snore.  His face soured. What had possessed him to take her on.  He finally found his shirt, the rough texture of the uniform rubbing at his nerves.  How long had he worn that infernal thing? His sense of time was dashing away from him. At the moment he could blame that on whatever was giving him his hangover.

He heaved himself out of the red satin travesty that called itself a bed.  He glanced at the mirror on the vanity table that occupied a small corner of the already tiny room.  His brassy red hair was due for another cut. There were bite marks across his chest. He turned to find nail marks along his back.  Well, at least it looks like she had a good time, even if I can’t remember jack.

He pulled on his field jacket and trousers.  They were wrinkled, and a strange yellowish stain was visible at the back of his collar.  He sighed, annoyed that he’d have to deal with that later. It took him a while to find his khaki beret.  It had found its way under a pair of stockings and garter. He stashed it in his trouser pocket and straightened out his tie as best as he could.  



Copyright details.
Affiliate Link Disclosure

Support Chapel Orahamm by becoming a Patron.
Become A Patron!
Support me on Ko-fi
Support me on Ko-fi



Golden Hour in the Countryside Poster
Golden Hour in the Countryside Poster
by Kavordia

I am a writer and artist working through the Kavordian Library series. I write sci-fi, fantasy, lgbt romance.

One Comment on “Bad Hangover: Page 1

  1. Pingback: Bad Hangover: Page 2 | Kavordian Library

Comments are closed.

%d bloggers like this: