Day 4 - Scene 1

Enar woke up to pain and remorse. Not again. His head ached and his mouth tasted like cold coffee and cigarette butts. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to go back to sleep but it didn't work. Something wasn't right. He felt around and realized he'd fallen asleep still wearing his jeans, on top of the bed, with his feet sticking out on the side. Brilliant. Just brilliant.

Groaning, he sat up and rubbed his eyes. This wasn't what he'd planned; a nice and healthy vacation with lots of fresh air, good food and a bit of mild exercise had been the idea. Not this. No way he'd be able to help Rolf do any work now. He'd just get in the way and drop things and be a useless, pathetic, nuisance.

His shoulders slumped and he sighed to himself. This time he'd really done it. Rolf would be so disappointed. Maybe if he slept a little longer he'd fell better when he woke up.

Enar cursed under his breath. It must work. He had to sharpen up or he couldn't go see Jolene. Might as well forget about that. She wouldn't want him anyway; a hungover, ignorant city fylk. What would she do with someone like that. She was pretty enough; she could get any man she wanted. Why would she even look at him. He sighed again.

There was nothing for it. Too late now.

Hopefully he could get another hour or two of sleep before they came to wake him up. It must still be early. Faint light seeped in through the window; barely bright enough to see by. No birds sang. Very early. Some sleep would do him good. Please.

His pajamas still lay in a pile on the floor where he'd left them last morning. He just needed to change into them and crawl back under the covers and that'd be that. He'd sleep and wake up and be fine. Enar took one last deep breath and with a groan he got out of the bed and on to his feet.

Out in the hallway the jug lay crushed on the floor.

Enar whimpered and sat back down, clinging to the edge of the bed. This wasn't happening. He closed his eyes. This really wasn't happening. When he looked again the crushed jug still lay there, the upper half and part of the handle mostly intact and the rest of it spread out in millions of pieces all over the hallway.

He had to clean it up. It was his mess and he had to deal with it. Now. Before anyone came to wake him up and saw it. There must be a broom in the kitchen, he could use that. A broom, and something to scoop up the shards with. He could do that. He'd clean up the mess, explain to Rolf what had happened and offer to replace the jug. It wasn't more than right. He'd broken it and he should replace it. His head ached.

That worked. He had a plan. He just had to actually follow through with it. Now. Right away. Soon. First point: stand up, move. Groaning, Enar got to his feet and lumbered forward to get a better look of the hallway. Steadying himself on the doorway he surveyed the floor; pottery shards everywhere.

Looking up he saw the door standing wide open and his stomach sank. Hadn't he had enough? On the door mat sat a night squirrel. It glanced up as he appeared but soon dismissed him and returned to pulling at a loose thread in the mat. A chill crept down his spine; there were pests in the burrow and it was his fault. Who knew what else had snuck in during the night? He had to make sure the burrow was clear. What kind of useless idiot goes to bed without closing the door?

Enar drew in breath to yell at the critter and scare it away. A dry croaking rattled through his throat and the night squirrel looked at him with renewed interest. It's dark blue tail quivered, but other than that the little beast just sat there.

He raised his arm as if to throw something and with a wordless growl he swung it down. The night squirrel's tail flashed an angry white and it scampered off a few steps, across the threshold and out into the morning. Enar lurched forward and heaved the door shut, right in its twitching little nose in it's stupid little face. The noise cracked against the inside of his skull and he winced and pressed his eyes shut, supporting himself against the inside of the door.

What had gotten into him last night? How many more creatures were already inside the burrow? How would he get them out? Please, please, please let there not be anything else broken.

Easy now, one thing at a time, first things first. Calm down. Enar took a deep breath and opened his eyes. Darkness. With the door firmly shut behind him the only illumination came from the faint light that trickled in from the doorways to the other rooms.

<p style="font-weight:normal">Slipping his feet along the floor Enar shuffled over towards the door to the kitchen. Pottery shards scratched against the floor where he nudged them out of place; small sharp sounds that cut his ears like glass. He gritted his teeth. Better that than cutting up his feet on something sharp in the dark.

<p style="font-weight:normal">Better yet had he not been a drunken fool breaking other people's properties.

<p style="font-weight:normal">He'd clean up the shards first. That he knew how to do. It'd let him put off dealing with any pests for a while longer. He just needed the broom.

<p style="font-weight:normal">The kitchen lay still and quiet, dressed in shadows and with all its cupboards and drawers respectably shut. A towel hung on a peg by the old iron stove and a bucket hid in the darkness under the work bench. Nothing moved.

<p style="font-weight:normal">Enar stood still and held his breath. If something moved he'd hear it – he hoped. Nothing that might reasonably have entered the burrow could have opened a cupboard and shut it behind itself. Reasonably.

<p style="font-weight:normal">He shuddered. Find a broom and clean up the shards and then take it from there. Enar sighed and slowly shook his head from side to side. What a mess. He wanted to sleep.

<p style="font-weight:normal">He looked in the corner next to the cupboard. He looked under the work bench and behind the long curtains by the window. He went through the drawers and checked behind the stove, but nowhere did he find a broom, nor a spade to sweep the shards on. For a while he considered using an old spatula but decided he'd done enough stupid things as it were.

<p style="font-weight:normal">In the end he grabbed the towel from its peg. He could use that to gather up the shards on. In the door to the hallway he knelt down and spread out the towel flat on the floor. The hard floor crushing against his knees and the dull pain pounding in his head he started gathering up the pieces of the broken jug.

The big bits were easy. The upper half with the bit of the handle came first, then the larger pieces of the bottom half and then it got tricky. In the dim light of the hallway he swept his hands across the floor to try and find the smaller pieces. His knees ached and his back hurt. Crawling around on all fours in a dark hole under the ground wasn't part of the vacation he'd had in mind. Next time he'd get a hotel, by a beach, with room service and hot showers.

A groan escaped him as he cut his finger on something sharp. Enough already. He sat back on his haunches and stuck the finger in his mouth. Leaning against the wall he closed his eyes for just a moment. So tired. He jerked awake, hitting his head against the door frame with a bang. Pain split through him like an axe through firewood and he keeled over on the floor and curled up in fetal position, swearing quietly to himself.

---

Continued in Day 4 - Scene 1 - Part 2.

Back to Enar's Vacation.