Read Online Twenty-Four Hours by Sherrie Henry - Free Book Online

 
     
     
     
    TWENTY-FOUR
    HOURS
     
     
    By
     
    Sherrie Henry

     
    Twenty-Four Hours
    Copyright © 2012 by Sherry Henry
     
    Cover design by Allison Cassatta

    All rights reserved.
    No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
     
     
     

     
    … And the Elders watched, and listened to the silence ….
     
    Michaelia darted between two cabs, up the stairs, through the turnstiles and onto the train platform, running late as usual because her high-society, richer-than-Donald-Trump boss has his own driver and no clue about train schedules. She bumped past two hand-holding lovebirds who were taking their own god-loving sweet-ass time getting on the train. As she bounced on her toes, hoping to shove through the train’s doors before they closed, she had the uncomfortable sweating, breathless feeling from the run, even if it was a late cold gray February afternoon. She found her seat just as the train started to move, averting her eyes from the young couple she nearly mowed down. She faced the window, away from the people around her, away from reality. The dirty, snow-covered train yard merged into the miles and miles of dry scrub brush broken up only by the back of buildings, alleys, overgrown paths and crumbling roads. Perfect nothingness to allow her mind to wander.
    Today was nothing unusual; nothing new really to see, nothing out of place, but staring at the urban decay was something to do during her hour-long commute to and from work. It wasn't so bad; when she was tired she could sleep and never had to worry about traffic jams, road construction, car maintenance or the price of gas. But it was melancholy days like this, with grey skies threatening rain and dark thoughts taking root, that she hated it all; her life, her job, the never-ending commute. She sighed and rubbed her eyes, willing the tears back, as she thought, “if only …” but there were no more “onlys” in her life. That is, until winter turned into spring and spring turned into summer. Life changed, if only for twenty-four hours.
    Life had never been easy for Michaelia; she wasn't a "looker", attractive did not describe her. “Plain” was more the word, mixed with overweight, dumpy, homely, with lifeless brown hair usually pulled back into a pony tail, skin that refused to stay pimple-free, eyes that needed glasses even after eye surgery. Smart, really the brains of the family, but not brilliant, not smart enough for the Ivy Leagues, but smart enough for a graduate degree from the state university. Existing in a dead-end accounting job, one of a dozen at a mid-ranked accounting firm, with no chance of advancement and only periodic cost-of-living increases. All-in-all, she was just ordinary. Ordinarily plain enough to be overlooked no matter how hard she tried. Ordinarily plain enough to blend in to the walls, the ever-blooming wallflower.
    When she was younger, she had hopes and dreams of the perfect future; a future with her very own Prince Charming who would sweep her off her feet and take her away from the drudgery that her life had become. That's what the fairy tales said, right? So she waited, and waited, and waited, and no one ever looked her way. The dream of having a husband and children had slipped away. Now it was too late. Over forty and never been kissed, no Prince Charming coming to rescue here and definitely no happily-ever-after. Even if Prince Charming showed up at her door tomorrow, she would have no clue what to do, what to say. She doubted any Prince Charming would want to teach a forty-year-old virgin how to kiss.
    Winter turned to spring, spring to summer, the same routine day in and day out, heading to work, heading home, every weekday, but now she had a new hell. One of her co-workers, one that went