Kelly blinked her eyes awake, but saw no difference in her vision. The room was absent of light, but she could tell this wasn’t her bed. Being a blackout drunk, she had become accustomed to waking up in strange places; but when she felt the flannel bedding, that’s when she knew she’d hit bottom. Kelly hadn’t slept on wool since she was a child. In fact, from the day she left Ireland and landed in San Francisco, she vowed that she would only ever lay on the finest feathers and softest satins for the rest of her life. Shunning her old rural lifestyle and her “culchie” farm mother who wielded Catholic guilt with all the wrath of the Old Testament. The “Oul Dear.”
……
When she tried to sit up, her head smashed against a low hanging flannel ceiling just above her head and an odd sense of detached relief washed over her. Thank God, she thought, at least I’m in a ……
To find out where Kelly woke up, head on over to Forum’s Fall 2020 Fiction and check out some amazing stories. The “Oul Dear” by Wess Phillipson can be found on page 2, accessed by clicking the picture below
*Featured photo by Annaleah Gregoire
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