A note: This is a restart of Aeowyn, a story I published a couple of weeks ago. I tried to do a lot with it, and it fell apart quite quickly. It definitely wasn't ready for publication, although I think a few people were very supportive.
This version has some fundamental changes and hopefully will come across better. I'm no longer trying to link it to other stories I have written, and am trying out writing in the third person rather than the first person.
I hope you enjoy it, all feedback is welcome.
******
At twenty-eight, Aeowyn's had packed a lot into her short life. Though saying her life was short at 28 would be discounting the fact that to Aeowyn, her life seemed long. In fact, 28 years of breathing was the longest she had ever committed to anything.
She looked at herself in her bathroom mirror, another Monday morning had come to pass, another day of commuting for far longer than she wanted to a job she had lost all desire for within three weeks of commencing.
Her hair, as it did every morning, appeared to have migrated to one side of her head. Her eyes looked tired despite getting a good five hours of sleep. Her blue eyes had lost the sparkle they had when she was back at university.
How she longed for those carefree days, getting to be with her friends, partying into the early hours of the following day. Days when all she had to do was flash a little cleavage, give a little wink, and show a little bit of leg, and she would know she was not paying for a drink all night.
"What the hell happened to you, woman?" she asked herself, her reflection looking back at her with a look of defeat.
She smeared some toothpaste onto her toothbrush and then, toothbrush in her mouth, she stepped onto her bathroom scales. Shocked, she tossed the toothbrush from her mouth, hoping it would lessen the blow by a few pounds.
"That's the last fucking pizza I eat," she said, stepping off the obviously faulty device that always brought her nothing but misery with its evil lies.
She walked from her bathroom, naked, she lived alone, and this was what she did. Her feet making soft padding sounds on the wooden floors of her small flat. She looked up at the clock that hung from the hallway wall.
"Shit, I'm gonna be fucking late again," she thought as she rushed to her bedroom.
She lamented her own disorganization. While she had sworn black and blue that she would start to prepare her work clothes the night before work from now on, she did not account for nights out with Carmel and Katie, possibly the worst influences a girl could have on their lives.
Her procrastination had got the better of her. She was going to have to break out the emergency knickers, the ones she usually saved for her monthly requirement for comfort over sexiness. There would be no sexy, barely tolerated by human resources dress today. Instead, it would be the leggings and white round neck t-shirt, the attire usually worn by the menopausal witches from accounts.
She left her flat and started the mad sprint to the tube station. As always, the streets of London did not forgive those who had spent their evenings out till two am drinking gin and tonic and lamenting the lack of quality men within the M25.
She managed to navigate her way past the mother herding her 40 children to school, past the people trying to shove copies of a substandard newspaper into your hands with the latest news of drunken politicians getting done for DUI, and found herself at the station.
She took out her mobile phone so that she could pass through the contactless gates of doom, she held her phone to the reader. The gates refused to open.
"Oh, for fuck's sake," she muttered to herself, looking at her phone. Noticing that the app had logged itself out in the 6 nanoseconds since she had logged it in.
"Get a move on love, some of us have jobs to get to," a male voice said from behind her.
"Yeah, I'm sure McDonald's can wait a bit longer for your burger flipping skills fucker,": Aeowyn shouted back, her patience thin.
"Fuck you!" the voice came back.
Finally, she was through the barriers, just in time to see the lift to the platform close its doors. Swearing loudly, she rushed to the stairs, the 189 steps that led down to the train. She looked down at her feet, today was a good day to wear flats.
She worked her way down the stairs, snarling at the foreigners who refused to walk on the left like anyone with a brain would surely do. She pushed her way through the crowd walking against her, wishing she knew Moses trick for parting seas.
Eventually, she found herself onboard a train. People pushing their way on, squeezing into the deep level tin cans that made up London's public transport infrastructure. It astounded her how, despite the train being so obviously full, people still tried to play human Tetris, squeezing into the tiniest of gaps. Even though in 90 seconds, another tin can would be at the platform.
She managed to work her hands into her handbag, pulling out her phone. She plugged in her headphones and placed them in her ears. She started her music playing and closed her eyes.
"Fucking Mondays," she thought to herself, letting a small smile appear on her face.
******
Aeowyn's office, well her companies office, a place of acceptance, a place where everyone treated each other like family, with love, respect, and acceptance.
"Nice of you to join us, Bandalora," the stern voice said as Aeowyn walked into the Information Technology department, "another exciting weekend."
David Stephenson, the manager of Aeowyn's department, a perennial moaner who's only joy seemed to be making her life as miserable as possible.
"Good morning David," Aeowyn replied, forcing herself to smile at the odious little man. She wondered why it was that he wore that brown suit, surely it was older than he was.
"Barely morning," he replied, sarcasm dripping through his words.
Aeowyn looked around the office. 'Hot Desking' as it was known had been introduced twelve months ago to the wild applause of nobody. Management said it was to allow for the free-flowing of information as people could quickly move about from desk to desk and exchange ideas. Most saw it for what it was, managements way of hindering communities from building in the workplace, stopping the personalization of desks by individuals, and ridding the office of any warmth.
She found a seat next to Martin, an older man, perhaps in his fifties, slightly effeminate, maybe gay. Aeowyn was surprised that people seemed to avoid sitting near him, but then in a department where she was the only female, and Martin represented the only person over forty, perhaps it was not such a surprise.
"Ah, the other outcast," he said as Aeowyn slumped into the chair beside him, "another big weekend?"
Aeowyn theatrically rolled her eyes back and let out a mock groan, before giving the man a smile.
"I think I wanna die," she said as she set up her laptop.
"Don't do that," Martin said, "Imagine how pleased that would make David.'
Aeowyn laughed, "it's the only thing keeping me alive, is knowing how much pleasure he would get from my death."
"Holy shit what a night," the Australian female accent said from Aeowyn's right.
"You tried to kill me again, Carmel," Aeowyn said, watching as her best friend parked her bum on her desk.
Carmel worked in finance, worked being a very loose definition of what it was she actually did. Almost everyone, Carmel included, believed that her combination of fantastic body, deep blue eyes, and legs that went forever had worked more in her favor than her limited resume.
"Katie dropped that bombshell that she had this week off pretty late in the piece, no wonder she was going so heavy on the shots," Aeowyn said as she continued to set up her work area.
"Yeah," Carmel responded, "and then went on about her and Tom were about to go on a week-long bonkathon that would possibly cause her difficulties in walking."
"She's in love, leave her alone you bully."
"Oh, I said nothing to her," Carmel said, a sinister smile suddenly appearing on her face, "and I said nothing to Tom either."
"What did you do?" Aeowyn asked, her ears pricking up, knowing how deadly her Australian friend could be.
"I may have slipped a little something in his drink before the night was through."
"Oh, shit, not Rohypnol?"
"No, Jesus fuck, you wanna keep your voice down on that," Carmel looked around, ensuring no one was listening, "I'm saving the roofies for when I have you cornered, you little horn bag."
"Then what?"
"Well," Carmel said, crouching down beside me, so she was no longer speaking over the office, "do you remember that liquid laxative that Margie gave us, the one she said we should slip a couple of drops of into Daves drink?"
I looked at her, horrified at the evil that came out of this innocent-looking sweet girl.
