I have been so busy writing reports for work that I haven’t spent as much time blogging as usual. I promise I will get back to normal soon and catch up with all the lovely blogs out there. For now, I thought I would include another sneak peak into my about to be published YA drama, ‘Being Watched’.
An extract –
I was reluctant to get up when the alarm went off for the third time and I realised that I couldn’t press ‘snooze’ one more time and get away with it. I nipped to the shower straight away and went downstairs half dressed, grabbing some bread and hoping there was time to toast it before I had to make a run for it. Dad had left the telly on and the breakfast news was blaring out about some atrocity somewhere. I changed the channel to see if I could find something more entertaining. As I pressed the button and flicked channels, I noticed something unusual. The telly seemed to drag its heels a bit. It sort of paused before it changed over. I stood dead in my tracks. The fresh toast that I had just plucked from the toaster seemed to burn my hand and I dropped it as I froze, stunned, almost glued to the spot.
In front of me the TV had paused on the image of a house. Not just any old house. It was feint but easy to identify. I tried to grab for my phone to capture the image and send it to Siobhan but it quickly altered and ITV came on. Goosebumps were immediately covering my arms. The whole thing must have only been half a second but it struck a chord with me. It made me feel sick. Was I hallucinating? Had I had too much to drink last night? No. I hadn’t even had a sip of the wine I was handling for customers. Mum had offered me a glass of bubbly but I turned her down in favour of the chance to drive the car home under her observation. I noticed a few more missed calls from Siobhan and decided to ring her straight away.
She picked up and sounded as though she were somewhere busy. “What took you so long?” she said in a half-whisper as if guarding the conversation from passers by. “You’ll never guess what just happened to me…” I started anxiously. “It can’t be as bad as what messed with my head last night,” she replied in an even more secretive tone. I picked up my bag and started for the door. I was desperate to distance myself from that bloody telly as soon as possible. “The TV just showed a picture of the house…” My shaking hands struggled to undo the bike lock as I spoke. “You are not listening to me. We are in some freaking messed up horror movie.” “What the…?” I continued, trying to catch the pedal with my foot and get on my journey to school. “I was about to go out and meet Max and then something horrible happened. I was wheeling my bike out onto the driveway and I saw a dead bird laying in my basket. A freaking dead bird!”