Don't Believe Me? Watch

      Each Monday always starts and ends the same way: painfully boring. It drags on for years and years, and Darcy always resists the urge to fall asleep at her desk. Even now, whilst she sits there, watching the coffee drip down into her mug, she is half asleep. Picking up a wooden stirrer, she mixes her coffee, hoping the steam will revitalise her (although it never does). With steady hands, she takes the coffee back to her desk, ready to finish her monotonous day.

           “At 09:12 in the morning, I shouldn’t already be thinking about going home,” she complains to Natalie, her colleague sitting at the desk opposite her.

           Natalie laughs at her, waggling her eyebrows. “You really shouldn’t. Which is why you should get on and do some work. You know, what you’re paid to do?”

           “You make too much sense, Natalie. At let me groan in peace. I promise, I’ll do some work later.”

           Unfortunately for Darcy, that promise was never fulfilled. For at 09:16, Darcy had her head rested comfortably on a pile of documents, her eyes shut, and was snoring loudly. Everyone in the office was watching her sleep; some were tutting at her, disgusted by her lack of work ethic, whilst others nodded, wishing they had the gall to do the same. It isn’t long before Darcy is captured by her dream, a prisoner to her own mind. Whilst there are brief mentions of teeth falling out and being naked in front of a class, there isn’t too much she hasn’t already dreamt about before. It’s what happens after that really, really unsettles Darcy.

           Walking around on a sandy beach, Darcy is mesmerised by its beauty. The sky is cloudless, allowing her to see the sun, which is beating waves of heat down onto them. The waves are crystal clear, lapping lazily at the side of the beach. Darcy grasps a handful of sand, which is almost too hot to touch, and drops it immediately. It isn’t thick and stodgy, as it normally is at beaches; it’s soft and powdery, like confectionary sugar.

“Perfect condition, in my opinion,” Darcy states, and removing her shoes, she digs her feet into the sand, enjoying the feel of it between her toes. Everything is so peaceful – and it almost seems real – but Darcy understands it’s just a dream.

Or is it?

After an hour of soaking up the sun, Darcy proceeds to stand up. Her work uniform was removed ages, leaving her vulnerable to the rays in her lingerie. As she shields her eyes from the sun, she looks down upon the sand, searching for her uniform… but it’s not there.

“Oh for goodness sake,” Darcy tuts, placing her hands on her hips. “I have,” she takes a peek at her watch, “five minutes, before I need to wake up. So give me my clothes, and then I can wake up, and get on with my job.” Speaking to no one in particular, she is greeted by silence, which infuriates her further.

Twisting her head at the sound of a voice, she eyes a particularly tall person at the end of the beach. Cladded entirely in white, he steps towards her, and she hurries up to meet him halfway. Once they meet, Darcy covers her body self-consciously, aware of the man as he scrutinises her face. Feeling ridiculous, her in minimal clothing whilst he adorns a suit, she sighs at him.

“Do you have my clothes?” She questions him, and he simply stares at her.

“You need to evacuate everyone.” He ignores her question, and steam begins to billow out of her ears.

“I just asked you if you had my clothes,” she repeats, taking a step forward, but he seems unfazed by her frustration.

“And I just said you need to evacuate everyone.”

“From where?” She decides to humour him, as the five minutes she gave him are going painfully slow, for some reason.

“Your work.” He states plainly, and the wind is stolen right from Darcy’s lungs. She doesn’t know why – this is obviously just a dream – but she’s agitated by his words. Tasting the salty air as she inhales deeply, she tries to focus on the man in front of her.

“I see. And why would that be?”

“Because there’s going to be a flood.” He shrugs his shoulders.

“Right,” Darcy nods, rubbing her eyes fiercely. “I need to wake up.”

“I’m telling the truth. When you wake up, your colleague Natalie will tell you how pretty you look. You will spill your coffee, which is cold since you didn’t drink it after you first made it. Natalie will get up to grab some tissue for you, to which you’ll reply with ‘you’re a star’. You’ll go on your daily walk with Natalie, and when you come back, there will be a flood. You need to get everyone out.” Perplexed by his abruptness and the absurdity of what he is saying, she watches him as he turns and begins to walk away.

“Hey, come back,” Darcy demands, rushing to keep up with him. With each step she takes, he takes an even longer stride, and she can’t reach him. “Wait, just come back!” Breathless with concern, the wind picks up, whipping her hair against her face. Sand is concealed in the huge gusts, and it sprays into her eyes. She shuts them dramatically, clawing at the sand in them, and when she opens her eyes once again…

She’s back in the office. As Darcy’s eyes adjust to the harsh, bright lights of the room, Natalie gives her a cheesy grin.

“You look so pretty, especially with the drool dripping down your chin,” she teases. Darcy wipes the dribble off of her chin, and is disgusted by the puddle of it lying on her workload. Even more alarmingly, Darcy remembers in horror what the man in her dream had predicted.

He knew she was going to say that, but it must be a coincidence… right?

Laughing uneasily, Darcy sits upright in her chair, eyes still half-shut with sleep. Letting out a massive yawn, she stretches her arms out, as she brings them down to her lap, they collide with the cup of coffee sitting untouched on her desk. In a split-second, Darcy braces herself for the scalding liquid to drench her, but when it does, she is surprised to find it cold. Almost freezing, actually.

Concerned by the spillage, Natalie jumps up, racing over to the toilets. When she returns, she’s clutching a handful of tissue, and tries to mop up the coffee, which is now rapidly staining Darcy’s uniform and seeping through onto her skin.

“Wow, what a mess you’ve made,” Natalie comments, handing her the rest of the tissues. “Here, go clean yourself up.”

“Thanks Natalie, you’re a star.”

The words are out of Darcy’s mouth before she can clamp it shut. As realisation sets in, her mouth gapes open, and she springs up like a tiger.

“Natalie, we need to leave now,” she clasps her hand, and starts to pull her towards the lift. Natalie, being 5ft8 and much stronger, has no issues in stopping Darcy, who has remained at 5ft 5 pretty much all of her life.

“Hey, relax Darcy; it’s only a cup of coffee! I have spare uniform in my locker, come with me to get some.”

Darcy begins to tremble. It starts with her hands, and then her whole body begins to shake, her teeth chattering as she tries to convince Natalie to leave.

“You need to trust me Natalie, we need to leave this building; there’s going to be a flood!” Darcy’s voice has risen over the course of that statement, and now everyone in the office is ogling her. Staring deep into Natalie’s eyes, she catches her hands in her own, hoping with every ounce that Natalie believes her.

She doesn’t.

“I think you need to take a walk, just to wake yourself up,” Natalie hands her a note from her handbag. “Here: go buy us both a coffee. That will wake you up. Then you have a lot of work to catch up on.”

“Are you not coming with me?” Darcy asks hopefully, and Natalie throws her a pitying look.

“I’m sure you can make it to the coffee cart on your own. And make sure the coffee is hot,” she adds, before ushering her into the lift.

The journey from the top floor to the ground floor takes hours to pass. Darcy walks on legs of jelly until she reaches the swinging doors, and as she squeezes past them, she enters the world outside her work.

A light, gentle breeze brushes past her as she enjoys the open air. Contrasted to the stuffy office she always sits in, outside it is always a delight to walk past. For miles, you can hear the chirps of birds, the thrum of the traffic in the near distance, and the tapping of shoes as people hurry to their destinations.

Fortunately for Darcy, the coffee cart is where it is usually situated, just opposite her work. It’s there every day, from morning until evening, and it never fails to disappoint. As Darcy walks closer, the smell of rich coffee and baked goods swirls around her nostrils, and she feels her stomach grumble beneath her sopping wet uniform.

“Oh dear,” she mutters, realising in her haste to get coffee, she forgot to change her clothes, which are sodden. Ignoring the distasteful glances she receives, she continues ambling over to the cart.

“I’ll have two coffees please. Oh, and a croissant. Thank you.” She hands the money over, and watches the woman make their coffees, fascinated by the machine whirring away. The woman hands her the croissant in a crumpled bag, and stacks the coffee cups on top of each other, and Darcy picks them both up. Expressing her gratitude once more, she turns around, ready to walk into her building, but…

It’s gone.

Startled, Darcy discovers her work building is nowhere to be seen. Usually standing tall and imposing, now in its place stands a gaping hole. Rushing over to where it’s supposed to be, Darcy almost crashes into the bustling crowd, all of whom seem unbothered by the fact that a building is missing.

“Is this real?” She asks, and a few bystanders pass her a puzzled look, before walking off. She stares down at her uniform, which is slowly drying out from the heinous rays from the sun, and frantically searches around for any hint of a clue as to what’s happening.

Where is the flood? And more importantly, where is the building she works in? Is this all a sick joke? As Darcy stands there, she’s unsure what to do, and the shock is taking over her body like a curse.

I guess this won’t be a painfully boring day after all.