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.
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a non-smoker I knew this brand had long been replaced by something else.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.
My
iPad!
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.
Just
mist.
‘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?
