Chapter 1
Asra
“Boom. Done.” I presssend and turn my computer off. “Another one bites the dust.” Smiling, I pick up my bright-red, ceramic mug and take a sip of my tea before gagging. “Egh! The fuck?” I spit out a few remnants of the offending drink my throat refused to swallow, getting tiny, bright-green drops of lukewarm ick mixed with grainy sugar that hadn’t dissolved in my cup all over my desk. “How long was I working?”
Standing, I stretch my arms over my head and make my way through my home to the kitchen for a towel. In the open-concept great room, a few rays of gray sunlight filter through the large window facing the beach.
“Great,” I mutter, stretching my neck from side to side. My nose ring bounces against my upper lip with the movement, jolting my senses back to life. That last design took me all night to finish. But it’s done. And perfect. And that’s why I am awesome. Nodding my head, I refuse to think about how many hours I spent tweaking the font for my latest cover design.
No more work. No more thinking about work. I grab a dish towel and head back into my office, ready to move on for the day. After cleaning up my mess and pouring the rest of my cold green tea down the sink drain, I change into a pair of leggings and sports bra, then pull on a hoodie and plop in my headphones.
Glancing out the window, I cringe as I pull on my sneakers. Those early, gray beams of light still fill the sky, dancing on the waves with pale yellow streaks, reminding me that I worked too late.
“Yep, it’s a quick run today.” Pulling on my sunglasses and a baseball hat, I turn on my tunes and head out the back door.
A few short strides down the sidewalk, I open my white, picket fence to the wide promenade separating my house from Seaside Beach. Taking a deep breath of the fresh, Oregon air, I survey the sleepy shoreline, then turn and start to jog.
To my left, bright rays peek through rows of houses as the sun edges above the horizon, casting deep shadows over my path. Pulling my cap lower, I turn my attention to the frothy, gray waves on my other side as I head down the coast.
A few pelicans fly above the cove. They squawk and splash before diving into the ocean only to make more of a ruckus as they try to steal each other’s catch.
Smiling, I watch the birds as I make my way to the edge of the small town. With each step, I inhale the clean air, filling my lungs with all that is good, or whatever happy horse crap my therapist told me to focus on.She’s also the one who convinced me that daily runs would be a good thing. A reason to get out of the house and all that.
Yeah, she’s not me. And I really think she was overexaggerating the effects. My eyes burn as I loop around and head back home. “Yep, no more losing track of time,” I mutter to myself as I jog up my road.
Slowing my steps, a sign in the neighbor’s yard catches my attention.
Sold
“Huh,” I didn't even realize it was for sale, “I wonder what happened to Old Man Jones.”
Maybe I should have checked on him more, at least learned his first name. Hopefully he’s not dead. I sigh, heading into my house, making a mental note to check the obits. I’d ask a few of the other neighbors, but I honestly don’t know a single one of their names.
Yep, so much for all the happy.
After a quick shower, I pull on some sweats and grab a towel to finish drying my long, brown hair when my phone rings. Huffing, I hurry into my bedroom to grab the blaring device before it goes to voicemail.
“Hello,” I blurt, putting my phone on speaker with my hands still tangled in my towel and long tresses.
“Hey, hey, Asie,” a far too cheery voice fills the room.
“Asra,” I correct even though I don’t know why I bother. She’s called me that since our freshman year of college. I wrap my hair in the towel, then flip it up in a loose, makeshift turban. “What’s up, Viv?”
“Finishing packing for our trip. How many bikinis should I bring?”
Trip.
What?
I freeze, the towel falling down my back and landing on the floor behind me.
“Yo, earth to Asie.”
“Huh?”Tiny drops of water fall from the ends of my hair landing on the discarded towel.
“Bikinis, how many should I pack?”
I glance out my door, into the open office. Hanging on the wall, the tentacled face of Cthulhu stares back at me from my calendar. Beneath it, bright, red letters mark this entire week.