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CATHARSIS CHRONICLES | OCTOBER COMPETITION | THE MISSING HOUR | FICTION
A Lot Can Happen in a Missing Hour
I Couldn’t Remember the Hour. I Couldn’t Believe What I’d Done.
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Dear reader, I’ve been a memoirist and non-fiction writer for over thirty years. While inspired by real events, this is a work of fiction — my first attempt, a long-standing dream. The characters and events depicted have been adapted, imagined or altered in service of the story.
The table setting looked spectacular as they entered the formal dining room. Light ricocheted off every surface as if crystal dust had been deliberately sprinkled. A centrepiece of orchids in varying shades of white looked ethereal, impossibly beautiful. If I didn’t know Jake and Tim better, I’d think they were fake. Never. With more money than God, they probably flew them in from the Seychelles just for show.
White bone china plates, each with a single gold ribbon embossed on the top, were so precisely aligned you’d think the twelve place settings had been measured with a ruler. I wouldn’t put it past Tim. He’s anal like that.
Everything had to be perfect, right down to the place cards with our names written in…
