Heyla! This is only my second story, so please will ya just take a minute or two to review? I just wanted also to say that the idea for this was from a flash of divine and scary inspiration. I just had to write down. So we'll see how it goes for now. Any suggestions or comments, criticism or praise, would be adored.

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Night time is when people should sleep. For the majority, sleep is invited, at around 10 o clock, say, when they get into bed voluntarily, looking forward to the comforting oblivion and opportunity for rest it provides. But when sleep comes to the unwary or unwilling, it stalks them silently, slowly, before it mercilessly and swiftly attacks the prey, wrestling them into unconsciousness shoving them cruelly into a jumbled up, kaleidoscopic world where reality, fantasy, the past and sometimes the future collide. They form a surreal and utterly nonsensical vision where the truth is all around, but it is so messed up that it appear to be lies, and the dream is waiting to be discovered, just round the corner of the terrifying nightmare.

As Kelsey Murdoch tumbled dazedly into wakeful consciousness, she knew, albeit unconsciously, that last night she had not welcomed sleep, and therefore had spent the most exhausting, draining and terrifying night of her life in a never-ending nightmare, one that she had been trying to avoid. This was because, quite simply, she had not been planning on going to sleep at all. But unfortunately, the sandman had crept up on her and generally smothered her into drowsy sleep without her even realising.

Wearily lifting her sleep-tousled head, she grimaced and squinted as the brash glare of the neon office lights confronted her tired, sleepy green eyes. She wondered just who had left the lights on, and why she was draped over the desk in such a stupid manner. Blinking rapidly as she compensated for the harsh illuminations, she felt absolutely listless and pretty much half dead. The other half of her was even worse than dead. But she knew that if she didn't move sometime soon, she would be in big trouble. With a grunt of effort, she levered her fatigued body from the desktop, where it had lain slumped in slumber as her treacherous body deceived her. After several exhausting efforts, she managed to position herself a little better, reclining almost lazily in her chair. Kelsey was suddenly grateful that she'd managed to get the well-upholstered, comfortable and soft piece of furniture into her office, much to her boss' chagrin.

Boss. Kelsey was suddenly wide awake, even though she felt terrible. Things had to be done. It wasn't as if she had inadvertently stayed at work all night for nothing. She stared at her watch for a long while, waiting for the numbers to stop dancing around. 6:01 am, it read, but even so she was not 100% sure. She decided to take a chance. As soon as she thought this, she remembered that Abba song of old, and groaned as the catchy lyrics implanted themselves into her weary, sleep infested brain.

"Dear Lord, please, not Abba again," she muttered in desperation as she rubbed her aching jaw, feeling it click painfully. The last this she needed was cheesy europop this early on a Tuesday morning.

Drawing on the last reserves of energy she had, she sprang to her feet, and with a bit of stumbling and sleep-blurred malaise she managed to make it to the bathroom in one piece, generally. The small collision with the ornamental cactus plant in the hall was nothing major. Kelsey inspected the scratches on her arms and grinned inanely. It had been one hell of a fight, but the cactus had come off worse, she thought, simultaneously thinking that she was suffering from some sort of sleep-deprived insanity. She instinctively shuddered as she looked up into the mirror.

Glaring at her in a slightly disturbing manner, was her very own reflection. Kelsey wasn't at all sure whether she was pretty or ugly. Certainly she was striking, her poker-straight brown hair, almost black but not quite, contrasted with her shockingly emerald coloured eyes and pale skin, but she was short, only 5 foot 5. But ugliness can strike you just as hard as beauty. And anyway, she wouldn't trust her eyesight this early in the morning. In a leisurely manner she swore at her sleep-blurred likeness as she turned the taps on.

Dousing her face liberally with water, she immediately felt refreshed and just a bit more capable of meeting her looming deadline. Ugh.

Remembering her task, she hurried back to her desk, hysterical panic beginning to set in. This time however, she avoided the lethal cactus of doom, though she had a close run-in with a water dispenser. Brushing the water from her trousers, she was infinitely glad that she had had the foresight to wear her oldest pair of jeans. They were still pretty nice though, and a little water would not hurt them much.

As she sat down again, she looked at the screen of the computer. She had made quite a good start on the article, she'd written almost 2 columns, but at the end a string of nonsense had been typed in quick succession. She stabbed the backspace key malevolently to delete the rubbish, realising that in her sleep she must have leant on the keyboard. After she'd cleared it away, she settled down into her chair and began to type, ignoring the shooting, tingly pains that rushed to her fingertips each time they pressed down. Now it was time to get down to business, to finish this off before anyone entered the office.

As she mindlessly typed away, blathering on about the revival of drum and bass in the Pimlico clubs of London, she found herself drifting into a reverie, brought on by exhaustion and the warmth of the sun through the office window as it rose higher and higher in the sky giving her a false sense of comfort and security. Landing a summer job at The Sound, London's leading music weekly that even rivalled Q magazine in sales and beat it hands down for popularity, had been the most amazing thing that had happened to her for a long time. The experience was fantastic. But there was one thing blighting her life at the moment, and that was her boss. Jake Tremaine was the testiest, most vindictive and underhand person she had ever had the displeasure to meet, let alone work for. As soon as she had started work, he had singled her out to be one of the sole victims of his reign of terror, being far harder on her than anyone else. Even people who were twice as old and half as good as Kel had been treated better than she had. And that was why she'd forced herself to stay at work late. Because a night without sleep was nothing compared to the wrath she would incur over a missed deadline.

Tap, tap, tap. Even the slight clicks of the keys were pounding in her brain like sledgehammers, ripping out her grey matter with wicked intentions. Her fingers flew faster, not daring to look at the time for fear that she would waste precious seconds as she glanced aside from her work. Like a robot, she word-processed mechanically, methodically, and emotionlessly, letting her thoughts flow seamlessly through her onto the blindingly white page, slowly but surely covering it. Slowly but surely.

... and it looks as if an unprecedented resurgence of musical creativity has once again found its way back to the streets of Pimlico, where through new talents like DJ Mochinas, it has once again become the ancestral home of the newest and definitely the most original drum and base tunes in the world. Kel couldn't help but smile with glee as she wrote the last sentence of her article...

"Kelsey, what are you doing here? It's seven thirty." The words, so sharp and shocking, grated Kel's nerves and scared her witless, paralysing her body in horror. She knew exactly whose voice that was. The hard, arrogant ring it had was unmistakable.

Mentally calling out for mercy, she looked to the door. And, sure enough, there stood the infamous Jake, one of The Sound's editors, and her dearly beloved boss. An incredulous scowl was plastered across his face.

"Hi... Jake... er..." she said falteringly, a blush rising on her cheeks for no apparent reason, excuses desperately forming on her lips.

"Well?" he said, glowering at her, his own shock at finding her here still lingering in his frosty, pale blue eyes, eyes that looked washed out and painfully unemotional. She contemplated of how awful she must look, and any vestige of self-esteem she held within her withered and died at the thought.

"Well," she began, but he interrupted her.

"What's that?" he asked, gesturing to the screen. Her inner voice screamed at him to go away, but conversely, he approached the computer at a surprisingly hurried pace.

"Oh, nothing," she demurred, panic rising to the surface made her voice sound shrill and very guilty. Kel couldn't help but curse herself for being so transparent. She couldn't have sounded more suspicious if she'd tried.

"Nothing, huh?" he grinned mockingly, but it never reached his eyes. Nothing could thaw this icy son of a bitch. He still advanced. When Jake got to her desk, he immediately began to read from the screen.

Alarm bells rang violently in her head as he leant dangerously close to her in order to read her work. Unable to stop him, she resolved at least to get away. She sprang from her chair like a rabbit from a hat, taking scant refuge in being as far from her boss as was humanly possible, even if it meant squeezing next to a small potted palm in the corner.

Kel scanned his face as he read the piece with lighting fast eye movements. His classically handsome, sharply sculpted features remained blank, his gaze unfathomably brooding, his golden hair shining in the watery early morning light that streamed through the window. Jake wasn't that much older than she was, he was about 20 by her reckoning. And he had the smug personality to match his cold, indifferent good looks.

Catching her by surprise again, Jake turned to face her. Embarrassed that he had sensed her intense study of him, she blushed again. She hated blushing.

His face was impassive. "The article is great," he stated flatly, and hope surged within Kel, as she mentally celebrated. "But," he said, "why are you here?" and the hope died again, replaced by brutal dread.

"I... was finishing it off, and it was late, and I got tired and I fell asleep, it was an accident I didn't mean to." Kel realised that she sounded incoherent, but it was important to her that even if he sacked her, he knew the truth of the situation.

"Look," she said, explaining it a bit more clearly. "I didn't mean to cause any trouble for you or anyone. I knew I was behind with the article, so I decided to stay late and finish it. But, I fell asleep halfway through, and I woke up here. I did the rest. It was an innocent mistake, and I'll never do it again," she ended emphatically.

"You look shattered. Go home," Jake said, a note of finality in his voice, face blank as a canvas.

Kel went; glad to be let off the hook.

"Come back at three," he called after her hastily retreating back.

Kel couldn't help but wonder, at Jake's treatment of her, and the ambiguous order he'd just issued. But for now, her tiredness would wipe out any thought-processes she had. Rest first, ask questions later, she told herself, even though she knew that ignoring problems seldom made them any easier to deal with. She exited The Sound's press building, and began the short walk that led to her home, and sleep.

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There you have it! Please review and tell me if you want more, coz I have such a great idea for the plot! Any suggestions would be good too. So, just REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! I am begging you, for the love of God, REVIEW! Thanks, I am eternally indebted to ya for doing so!