Fifteen minutes late. Fifteen minutes behind schedule. Andrew was flustered, he felt like his breath was trying to push it's way out of his lungs but his shirt was just too tight to let it out. He pulled nervously at his collar, trying to give him more room to breathe but it didn't help.

As he hurried back into the office the receptionist smiled at him. "Extended lunch Mr. Blane?"

Andrew visibly twitched and hurried into his office. He poured himself a glass of water from the water cooler and drank it in a single gulp. Gasping for air, he undid his shirt collar and breathed in and out, in and out. Eventually, his breaths got deeper and slower and he began to calm down. His hands were still shaking but he was feeling better, he could think clearly again. Pulling open a drawer in his desk, he took out a small medicine bottle and popped out two pale white pills and swallowed them with another glass of water from the water cooler. His intercom buzzed and he fumbled the bottle back into the drawer and answered it.

"I have Mister Craig on the line." His receptionist said.

"Put him through Margery."

There was another buzz and he answered the phone. "Mister Craig, hello, I hope you are well."

"Blane, what the hell happened?! You were meant to call me twenty minutes ago!"

Andrew tried not to hyperventilate.

"Blane!"

"I-I was delayed getting back to the office."

"Well your bloody delay cost me the Wilson account! I needed your confirmations of the taxes, damn it! Where the hell were you!?"

"A boy... he ran into me... he..."

"Look. I don't care about your excuses. You have one chance. Call up Wilson and let him know the details, you have his card. Maybe if you catch him in time you can sort out this mess, if not, we wont be talking again, I need an accountant thats reliable!"

The phone slammed down on the other end and Andrew shakily put his handset back on the receiver. He felt sick, dizzy. He reached for his wallet to find the Wilson's card but when his hand reached into his coat he found nothing. His wallet was gone.

He threw up into his waste paper basket.

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Author guidance for This story

Okay, a nice story starter for you all, I may add myself at some point but really this is here to maybe inspire others.

This is intended to be a continuous story and not a collection of shorts. However, I thought it might be a good idea to pepper it with the odd poem as a sort of injection of lore into the story, much like how the quotes and snippets from various books appear at the beginnings of chapters in Dune by Frank Herbert or much of Neal Asher's work.

Ideas and themes I had in mind for this:
psychosis, obsessions, fetishes and dark desires, twisted dark places with no morals, a secret world of bartering where anything can be had for whatever price you can negotiate for, a place where bartering is the ultimate power, stronger than even death, stepping into a secret world be accident and trying to find/buy your way back, self-discovery and awakening.

Hope I see some awesome stuff, fellow protagonists!

updated Aug 9 '09 by darkliquid