Final Curse of the Other World
Friday, December 23rd, 2011The following is the opening of the first draft of the final version of Curse of the Other World. If I cannot complete this story with this attempt, I will abandon it and move on to other projects. This version has a full story outline worked out and tested with various people as a wide range test audience. They all liked it. I like it. If I can’t write this version, I’ll never write the story.
Here is the opening. There’s not a lot here but the main characters are introduced. Nothing of the story is spoiled, so don’t worry. Please tell me what you think about the writing style.
Chapter One
Peter wiped the blood and vomit from his unconscious friend’s mouth and knew that today was not going to be a good day. There were certain things he would do for a friend but cleaning them up after a night of abusing themselves was not on his list. Nevertheless, he cradled Kate’s head in his arm and checked her pulse. It was slow and weak but steady. She would live long enough for him to lecture her about irresponsibility.
The bathroom floor was not the place for a woman as ill as Kate was to be sleeping so Peter scooped her up in his arms and carried her through to the bedroom. It was a short walk since despite all her family’s wealth, she lived in a tiny flat over a Post Office that had been closed for two years. She might be a callous bitch with no regard for her physical wellbeing, or the wellbeing of anyone else for that matter, but if there was one thing she did well, it was stubbornly refuse to spend more money than she actually needed to.
The bedroom was small, perhaps twelve feet square, and dominated by a double bed with deep purple sheets. The wall opposite the window was taken up by a fitted wardrobe, the wall with the door in it was lined entirely with bookshelves. Peter ignored the books for the time being, knowing their contents were not to his tastes, and laid Kate on the bedsheets. Her eyes flickered behind closed lids, but she made no efforts to open them.
‘Get some rest,’ he told her.
‘Where am I?’ she asked. Her voice was dry and little more than a whisper.
‘You’re in bed. Get some rest.’
‘I’ve got something I need to show you,’ she said.
‘Later,’ he replied but he may as well have held his tongue. Kate’s breathing was slow and regular and she lay perfectly still on the bed. She was asleep.
Peter pulled a blanket from the wardrobe and covered her with it, having decided this was the better option to waking her by pulling out the duvet she was laid on top of. Then he pulled a second blanket out for himself, closed the wardrobe and walked to the small lounge to settle down on the sofa for a few hours’ rest.

