AnYi 安亦

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Think of three people in your life. Give your character the hair and laugh of person 1, the face and bedroom of person 2, and the wardrobe and mannerisms of person 3. This is your new protagonist. Feel free to give him or her any other characteristics you’d like. Give us an idea of who your character is by describing only the first 60 seconds of the character’s day.

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It takes me a moment after slamming my hand down on my alarm clock to realise that the noise hasn’t stopped. It takes a lot longer – and many blurry attempts to swat the damn thing – to realise that it’s not really the noise my alarm makes anyway; it’s all crunches and scrapes, where mine is one of those old-timey clocks with the little bells.

Peering blearily at its slightly luminous face, I conclude that the crunching has woken me well before I had the slightest bit of interest in being awake, and promptly drop my face back into my pillow. It soon becomes clear, however, that that simply won’t work – it seems, if anything, to be getting louder – and make to get out of bed; hopefully when I’m back from the bathroom it’ll have shut up.

Shuffling out from beneath the covers, I extend my hand to catch the door handle as I get up, but it’s not there. I wave my arm around in the air for a few seconds before I’m convinced, but it’s like the whole wall is just… gone. I creep forward a little and my fingers brush over something solid. It feels like painted wood, maybe a little taller than me and – oh, a handle! I’ve found the door after all – I just got out of bed wrong or something. By this point, what with all the waving around and thinking I’m mostly awake, but it’s when I stride through the door and crack my head against the inside shelf of what I suddenly realise is a wardrobe that I fully become aware.

It’s then that I remember why my door has moved, and why I hear construction noises from a corner in my room that doesn’t usually have a window.

“God, I hate moving”.