I awoke with a headache that could only be described as monstrous. The throbbing of pain was in rhythm with my heart as the steady beat nearly had me throwing up onto the rough wood floor of my bedroom. There was something to say about people who got so drunk the night before that they couldn’t successfully make the trip to their own bed without falling flat onto the floor. My window was wide open. I could tell by the voices from the street below pouring through it, into my ear, and intensifying my already unbearable headache. I sat up. Not too fast though. I didn’t want the room to spin any faster or the contents of my stomach to come up and onto the floor. I took a deep breath as I leaned my back against the dresser next to my bed and reached a hand up to feel the bump that had risen in my head. I guess drink wasn’t the only cause of my headache. I shivered as wind blew through the open window and pulled a blanket from the bed wrapping it around my shoulders. It took a few minutes of sitting there to let my conscious-self adjust to the hangover I had successfully earned. After a while I felt well enough to stand up as slowly as I could and make my way over to the open window, closing it gently then locking it shut. The sun was just now coming up over the horizon, lighting the city in dim purplish-orange light, the slightly silhouetted vendors setting their booths up for a long day of business. I absently rubbed the spot on my head caused by late night drunkenness and winced when I pressed a little too hard. I reached back to my bedside table and retrieved a shot glass and a bottle of scotch. It was time to treat one problem with another.
I’m Harland Ayre by the way; Detective of the Metropolitan Guard Service, Resident of the City of Dunwell, and functioning alcoholic. I balance all things accordingly. I put killers away, solve crimes of a delicate nature, and do my best to protect my city in any way I can. But like most people, I have my fair share of issues. Like I said, I drink heavily. Which I guess is some sort of coping mechanism of dealing with what I see on a regular basis. That or Daddy issues, I haven’t sorted that out yet. I’m a bit of an ass which I’ve been told by many people, most of the dejected women. And on top of all that I have dreams, visions really. The dream I had wasn’t the first of its kind. I’ve had many others like it. Stone spires, unexplainable noises and feelings. In all my dreams I lose my humanity at one point, at least I think that’s what happens. The beach wasn’t the only place that my dreams took place in. Sometimes a desert, a few times at the top of a mountain, once in a forest, but most of the time the beach was where I came across it the most. The same series of events happened sometimes I lingered a bit too long around looking at the spires, I would rush towards the sphere in others. Even though I had the dreams quite often, about five or six times a month if I’m to be honest. It would seem like I never had the dreams at all. I had seen the stone monolith numerous times but I was still so fascinated and entranced by them. As if my body moved on its own, as my mind watched me interact with the old structures. People knew of my issues with drink, women, working too hard, and my mouth getting me into trouble. I would just blame the dreams on my drinking but even in my most sober nights, I would experience the visions. I never spoke of the dreams at all; having lucid and vivid visions of something as strange as that would cause people to question my sanity. Well, maybe they wouldn’t, they’d probably just assume it was a weird dream and leave it at that. I didn’t want to take that chance though, I like my job and I want to keep it.
I threw back the belt of Scotch and sat the glass and bottle back on the table. I needed to get ready for work in a few hours. I knew I smelled of booze even if I couldn’t smell it on me. I moved out of my cramped bedroom and into the washroom of my apartment. My living quarters were supplied by the Guard and could best be described as modest. It was cold in the winter, hot in the summer, and the water was always freezing. I turned on the spigot that protruded from the wall as water poured into the large bucket beneath it. I grabbed a cloth and a bar of soap and washed myself thoroughly. I toweled off when I finished making sure I was as at least mostly dry.
