I shall be self-publishing Something Must Break – a long short story, or miscro-novel (7,000+ words) as an e-book via Amazon Kindle soon. With no budget, time or publisher, promotion will be limited. It’s more about putting it out there. ahead f its publication, here’s a taste:
Blood… the roar of blood in my ears. My heart isn’t racing: that connotes an even but rapid pace. Nothing nearly so regular: it heaves, lurches and palpates in my chest. Each beat drives like a hammer, forcing blood in hot, agonized surges through my slowly narrowing veins. My aorta throbs, valves straining and corpuscles pushed to the brink of haemorrhage with every explosive spasm. This is no red mist descending. The mists come in all different hues, dependent on which of the myriad triggers has induced the symptoms on any given occasion. This time, a white haze obfuscates everything, pluming like smoke across all of my receptors.
I inhale slowly, deeply, mindful that I don’t hyperventilate. An oxygen rush would only exacerbate my condition. Which is what? It’s hard to say. But when one of these episodes manifests… it’s not so much that I’m not in control. I’m simply not present, not myself.
My mobile phone vibrates in my shirt pocket and I answer without looking at the display: I can’t focus anyway.
‘Hey, are you ok?’ The voice on the line is Faye, my wife.
My greeting must’ve sounded even worse than I’d thought. ‘Just a bit spaced out,’ I mumble, my voice sounding distant and muffled in my own ears, ‘it’s been a long day.’ She’s aware of these episodes of mine, but I try not to cause her undue worry. I forget the rest of the conversation. I killed the call. My vision was still blurred and my hands were trembling, but otherwise, normality was beginning to return.
I power down the PC, lock up my office and leave.