[This is a new novella, titled Shattered Echoes in a Shadow Prism, about a marketing executive who finds she has been missing for a month. This will likely be published under a pen name. This is part one setting up the mystery.]
Part One: Why Does Everyone Think I’m on a Milk Carton?
Sarah Lane jolted awake, her head throbbing with a pricked and relentless ache—one that hinted at a night of tequila shots and hazy decisions she couldn’t quite remember. Sarah tried, but a haze muddled her thoughts.
She stretched and realized she was in her pink nightie, the fabric clinging unceremoniously as she sat up. Sarah reached across the bed and found herself alone. No sweet reason for my pounding headache, she thought. What kind of party was that?
She cradled her head, wishing the sunlight wasn’t so harsh. The sounds of the city drifted up from the sidewalk—horns blaring and voices buzzing—with the rush of morning pursuits and commutes to work. Sally’s throbbing head rang like a bell.
A director of social marketing at The Grey Agency, Sarah was used to promoting tremendous parties her clients hosted. Sarah smiled at the thought this must have been one hell of an event.
She reached for her phone; the time 6:46 and the date November 10. That’s not right; it’s only October 10! Why on Earth was the calendar off a month? Sarah scrolled through her texts. More and more they read like a missing person’s blog. “Where are you? Are you okay? We have that Helmsted meeting; will you be there?”
Why is everyone acting like I’m on a milk carton? Leave it to Ted Helmsted, the actor and game show host, to come up with such an elaborate joke. Sarah chuckled at the thought.
The messages became frantic, with the final message curt. “You are close to being fired. Contact me now,” from Mark Willis, the vice president of marketing and her boss.
Sarah started to call, then thought better of it. “I should face him,” she reasoned. If this is a prank, then he may be anticipating my surprised face. At least she hoped so.
The ride to the 32nd Floor was slow with frequent stops and riders jostling in the elbow-to-elbow vault. Soon the crowded elevator emptied and she stood alone as the doors opened. The lobby was decorated for Thanksgiving, with paper turkeys rounding the reception desk and fall leaves attached to the back of the monitors.
In the far corner, a vibrant cornucopia overflowed with a dazzling array of rainbow-hued ears of corn, plump squash, and round pie pumpkins, creating a vivid tapestry of autumn’s bounty that demanded attention.
“Ms. Lane?” the receptionist appeared shocked. “What a surprise.”
Two of Sarah’s friends rushed over to her, their faces filled with concern. ‘We were so worried!’ Lucy exclaimed breathlessly, as Donna wrapped her in a warm hug. They were too committed to this prank, and Sarah decided to play along with a knowing smile.
“Is she new? I don’t recognize her.”
“That’s Lori, silly. She started last month right before you vanished,” Donna offered. “Lori’s been as concerned as we have been.”
“We thought you were dead,” whispered Lucy.
“What do you mean… dead?”
People walked by whispering. Sarah overheard “Where has she been” and “I hope she’s okay” as their worry met her confusion. She peered farther into the office suite and recognized a familiar face twisted in anger.
“Ms. Lane,” barked her boss Mark Willis. “We need to talk.”
Still thinking this was only a prank, Sarah’s eyes followed her boss as he paced in front of the window overlooking the expanse of the city.
“You’ve been gone a month,” Mark shouted “I ought to fire you!”
“Right… I’m sure you missed me,” Sarah mocked in a sarcastic tone.
Mark frowned. “We’ve been worried. We even called the police. No one has seen or talked with you for a month.”
“What do you mean?” Sarah exclaimed in confusion. Her head throbbed more than before. “I don’t understand… ” The more she thought about it, the more her head rang. Sarah pressed on her forehead.
“I mean… you’ve missed work for a month.” Willis barked. “Have you been sick? On a bender? Being a flake?” Willis asked in rapid succession without waiting or expecting an answer. He paced back to the window.
“You must believe Sarah, I think the world of you and I promised your mom to protect you.” His tone softened. “But it’s damn hard to do that when you won’t return my messages, take my calls, or come to work.”
Mark Willis was more than Sarah’s boss; he was also her uncle.
“Your absence almost cost us the Helmsted account,” Willis stated. “Ted Helmsted doesn’t understand why his personal social media manager went missing. Good thing I covered.”
Realizing her boss was sincere, Sarah’s voice trembled tinged with hestitation. “I… I’m confused. I guess I’ve lost time,” she murmured, pressing her fingers to her temple as the ache in her head deepened. Sarah faced Mark, her eyes clouded. “Everything’s… a blur.”
© 2024, Michael Shawn Sommermeyer. All rights reserved.
