Fate is predetermined.
It’s a road for us mere mortals to follow until we reach our destiny. But what happens if fate makes a mistake? And that mistake snowballs and snowballs until destiny is never reached?
This is Julie’s story in a time travel saga called Wide Awake Asleep.
Julie's approaching her middle years and finally has the life she wants and worked hard for, but back in the early 1970s her fate-line snapped and plunged her into an existence that never should have been.
Her destiny is demanding to be put right.
Julie doesn’t know it yet, but she’s about to be sent backwards in time to correct the broken fate-line.
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The end is sometimes the beginning
WIDE AWAKE ASLEEP
EXCERPT (taken from Chapter Four):
I woke with a bump; like I’d been submerged beneath water. Gasping. Breathless. The shimmering man slipped from my consciousness as I fought to hold on to him—I felt he was important but the dream disintegrated as panic overcame me.
I scrabbled around, getting my things together, knowing I had to get out of the car before it became my grave. It was still daylight. I’d missed the meeting though. Sod the meeting. I reached to grab my bag and briefcase from the footwell. My hand stopped in mid-air. A beaded yellow and red bag was in place of my Ted Baker handbag.
I took the bag anyway. I needed money to make phone calls for a recovery service and a taxi. I’d pay whoever’s bag it was back. I grabbed my briefcase and opened the car door. The car was at an angle, pointing downward, and I slipped. I had to grab the door one-handed as my feet disappeared beneath the car. But I felt strangely light; as if I could jump and easily reach the swaying trees making a canopy over the road. I threw the bag and briefcase to the top of the embankment and climbed up.
On my knees, I opened the bag, hoping to find a phone inside. There was a packet of cigarettes. Players No. 6 to be exact. I turned it over in my hands. Even as a non-smoker I knew this brand had long been replaced by something else. I dropped them in the bag, maybe whoever they belonged to was a retro smoker.
I searched further, but other than a discoloured makeup bag, an opened packet of strawberry Spangles, a pen, diary and a hideous brown purse there was nothing that I could use to help me out of my predicament.
I reached for my briefcase, but as I did, I realised that that too wasn’t mine. In fact it was nothing like mine. This wasn’t genuine leather, it had no long handles and it was scuffed and well-used.
Too late to register, an old Cortina wooshed past. I stood quickly, yelling and waving my hands, but it had disappeared around the bend in the road. I ran after it a few paces, but stopped, knowing it was futile.
There was nothing for it—I’d have to walk. I couldn’t be far from civilisation. This was England for goodness’ sake! I picked up the handbag and briefcase. I didn’t want whoever’s it was to say I’d stolen it. I’d have to look after it until I could return it. The garish-coloured bag went over my shoulder.
Something made me turn to look down at my poor, smashed up car. Ghost-like figures surrounded it. I couldn’t make out features, colours or anything much, just strange transparent floating shapes hovering around my car.
Fear caused me to step back. I wasn’t religious, and I disbelieved in anything hocus-pocus and was also suspicious of anyone who claimed they believed in the afterlife, but I couldn’t explain those ghostly figures as anything other than Death trying to find me. Trying to find out how I cheated it, maybe.
I closed my eyes and rocked on my feet as dizziness brushed over me. I opened them again carefully, almost afraid of what I’d see. But it was mist that was surrounding the car now.
‘Silly woman,’ I said, and turned to look around at my surroundings. I was on a typical narrow country road, and I was afraid I’d have a boy-racer come up behind me and finish me off. I wondered what time it was. I never wore a watch, and as my mobile was broken I didn’t know the time. I stopped and squinted up at the sun. It was high in the blue sky, but how could that be? It was January, the sun never rose much during the winter months. I looked around at the gently swaying trees—fully leaved. The field to my left was full of tall rapeseed. The yellow flowers gave off a familiar smell that reminded me of my childhood in the village before I left with my father as a teenager.
This was crazy. It’s January. I’ve not only slept through the night, but the entire winter?