Entry Post
Who: Helena Campbell
When: Early Morning
Where: A hallway, main house
What: Helena arrives at the resort
Helena rolled over, kicking the sheet off the in the process, and humphed into her pillow. It was her third night of insomnia, her third night away from her family. Her rather large family. It wasn't that the bed was uncomfortable, quite the contrary. The small bedroom was a perfectly controlled temperature, the room sufficiently dark. The problem Helena had was not with the room. It was with the quiet.
Quiet was not something Helena was used to. Her whole life, she had only spent a small amount of time sleeping away from her caravan, which was always surrounded by the assorted vans and trucks of her fellow performers. At any point in the night, Helena would be able to hear murmured talking, people walking past her windows, muffled snores from adjacent vans. Even if the rest of the performers were finally sleeping, the walls of her bean shaped bedroom were so thin, she was bombarded by the noises of the world outside. Traffic, stray dogs, wind in the trees, a constant cacophany of noise that would send Helena peacefully into dreamland.
Not here. Here the walls were brick. The windows double glazed. They were several storeys up from ground level, and due to what the secretary described as a fortunate mix up, Helena had a double dorm all to herself until the spring. All that amounted to a silence so thick Helena could have heard a pin drop. It was driving her nuts.
Rolling over for the millionth time, Helena opened her eyes and stared at the blank wall in front of her. Ironically, the policy in the dorm was no artwork on the walls, something Helena had found hard to believe for an art college. The wall was bare and depressing, and Helena felt a twist in her gut as she gazed at the scuffed surface. She needed sleep. She needed to be fresh in the morning. She needed to just relax.
She needed to pee.
With a sigh, Helena sat up and fumbled under her bed for her ragged bunny slippers. She frowned, unable to find them in the darkness. She was certain she had left them under the bed... Bleary eyed she staggered to the door, deciding her need to empty her bladder was greater than her need to keep her toes warm.
The hall was deserted, the silence of the place overwhelming. Helena shuffled down the hallway, the carpet slightly gritty under her feet. So far, dorm living was nothing like she thought it would be. She didn't really know how to make friends, she had a feeling her brashness had already put a few people off side. Still, she wasn't there to make friends, she was there to learn. If she told herself enough, she just might believe it.
Helena reached the bathroom, closing the door behind her before she reached out to flick the light switch. Her own reflection was bleary eyed, her hair sticking up at all angles. She scrutinized her reflection for a moment, before poking her tongue out and heading in to the bathroom stall.
She emerged a few minutes later, feeling decidedly more comfortable, but still exhausted. She reached out and flicked off the bathroom light, but the darkness was instant and she lost her footing. She took a step, miscalculating and fell to the floor, skinning her knee on the carpet. Helena swore loudly, and in the darkness reached out to try and get back up...
Helena opened her eyes. She was still lying on the floor of the hallway, but there was an early dawn light flitering through the windows. She frowned. Had she passed out? Fallen asleep? The last thing she remembered was tripping in the darkness, and now it was morning? Embarrased, Helena stood up and winced as the graze on her knee stretched with her movement. She ran a hand through her tousled hair, and her neck cracked painfully. Great, she had slept on the floor all night. She turned to go back to her room, but stopped. Something wasn't right, something she couldn't quite put her finger on.
She caught a glimpse of the envelope out of the corner of her eye. It was lying on the carpet near where she had been asleep. She bent down to inspect it, noticing as she did the carpet was softer, less dirty than the night before. Helena examined the envelope; it had her name printed on the front, nothing else.
"What the," she muttered, before looking around to see who could have left it. It was then she realised what was off about the scenario. This wasn't her dorm building.
Helena felt the pit of her stomach plummet. She didn't know where she was. Had she been sleepwalking? The hallway looked pretty fancy. She must have ended up on another floor. She looked down at herself; she was wearing an old Kermit the Frog t-shirt, faded red underwear, and nothing else. She had an envelope adressed to her, which she half suspected contained photographs of her previous nights nocturnal adventures, and no idea where she was.
From somewhere nearby came the sound of someone opening and closing a door. Helena froze, a deer in headlights. She was stuck, and whoever was just around the corner was coming her way. She racked her brains as to what she could possibly say in this scenario to make it all better; confess to sleepwalking, nonchalantly wish the person a good morning and get the hell out, lie down and pretent to be unconcious...
Instead she just stood there, clutching the envelope, praying the floor would open up and swallow her whole.
When: Early Morning
Where: A hallway, main house
What: Helena arrives at the resort
Helena rolled over, kicking the sheet off the in the process, and humphed into her pillow. It was her third night of insomnia, her third night away from her family. Her rather large family. It wasn't that the bed was uncomfortable, quite the contrary. The small bedroom was a perfectly controlled temperature, the room sufficiently dark. The problem Helena had was not with the room. It was with the quiet.
Quiet was not something Helena was used to. Her whole life, she had only spent a small amount of time sleeping away from her caravan, which was always surrounded by the assorted vans and trucks of her fellow performers. At any point in the night, Helena would be able to hear murmured talking, people walking past her windows, muffled snores from adjacent vans. Even if the rest of the performers were finally sleeping, the walls of her bean shaped bedroom were so thin, she was bombarded by the noises of the world outside. Traffic, stray dogs, wind in the trees, a constant cacophany of noise that would send Helena peacefully into dreamland.
Not here. Here the walls were brick. The windows double glazed. They were several storeys up from ground level, and due to what the secretary described as a fortunate mix up, Helena had a double dorm all to herself until the spring. All that amounted to a silence so thick Helena could have heard a pin drop. It was driving her nuts.
Rolling over for the millionth time, Helena opened her eyes and stared at the blank wall in front of her. Ironically, the policy in the dorm was no artwork on the walls, something Helena had found hard to believe for an art college. The wall was bare and depressing, and Helena felt a twist in her gut as she gazed at the scuffed surface. She needed sleep. She needed to be fresh in the morning. She needed to just relax.
She needed to pee.
With a sigh, Helena sat up and fumbled under her bed for her ragged bunny slippers. She frowned, unable to find them in the darkness. She was certain she had left them under the bed... Bleary eyed she staggered to the door, deciding her need to empty her bladder was greater than her need to keep her toes warm.
The hall was deserted, the silence of the place overwhelming. Helena shuffled down the hallway, the carpet slightly gritty under her feet. So far, dorm living was nothing like she thought it would be. She didn't really know how to make friends, she had a feeling her brashness had already put a few people off side. Still, she wasn't there to make friends, she was there to learn. If she told herself enough, she just might believe it.
Helena reached the bathroom, closing the door behind her before she reached out to flick the light switch. Her own reflection was bleary eyed, her hair sticking up at all angles. She scrutinized her reflection for a moment, before poking her tongue out and heading in to the bathroom stall.
She emerged a few minutes later, feeling decidedly more comfortable, but still exhausted. She reached out and flicked off the bathroom light, but the darkness was instant and she lost her footing. She took a step, miscalculating and fell to the floor, skinning her knee on the carpet. Helena swore loudly, and in the darkness reached out to try and get back up...
Helena opened her eyes. She was still lying on the floor of the hallway, but there was an early dawn light flitering through the windows. She frowned. Had she passed out? Fallen asleep? The last thing she remembered was tripping in the darkness, and now it was morning? Embarrased, Helena stood up and winced as the graze on her knee stretched with her movement. She ran a hand through her tousled hair, and her neck cracked painfully. Great, she had slept on the floor all night. She turned to go back to her room, but stopped. Something wasn't right, something she couldn't quite put her finger on.
She caught a glimpse of the envelope out of the corner of her eye. It was lying on the carpet near where she had been asleep. She bent down to inspect it, noticing as she did the carpet was softer, less dirty than the night before. Helena examined the envelope; it had her name printed on the front, nothing else.
"What the," she muttered, before looking around to see who could have left it. It was then she realised what was off about the scenario. This wasn't her dorm building.
Helena felt the pit of her stomach plummet. She didn't know where she was. Had she been sleepwalking? The hallway looked pretty fancy. She must have ended up on another floor. She looked down at herself; she was wearing an old Kermit the Frog t-shirt, faded red underwear, and nothing else. She had an envelope adressed to her, which she half suspected contained photographs of her previous nights nocturnal adventures, and no idea where she was.
From somewhere nearby came the sound of someone opening and closing a door. Helena froze, a deer in headlights. She was stuck, and whoever was just around the corner was coming her way. She racked her brains as to what she could possibly say in this scenario to make it all better; confess to sleepwalking, nonchalantly wish the person a good morning and get the hell out, lie down and pretent to be unconcious...
Instead she just stood there, clutching the envelope, praying the floor would open up and swallow her whole.