Internet Queen

Brrrr! Brrrr! Brrrrr!

ARGGHHHHH!

Her hand slams heavily down onto the annoying sound that daily
infiltrates her unconsciousness.

07:30

Another day. Sun rays infiltrate the cracks in the heavily draped
windows. Swinging her legs on to the cool wooden floor the birds
twitter. Scowling at their direction she mumbles to herself. Damn pesky
things. Tying the belt to her dressing gown around her waist she
shuffles to the kitchen for a brew. The cat purring around her ankles
rubbing against her skin.

'Hey there Kruger', she coos; picking him up to kiss his wet lips, 'you
hungry darling?'

She sloshes the milk into the mug before emptying the last of the dried
biscuit into the cat's dish.

'Damn it! I'll have to go out, can't have you starving can we Kruger
darling? We'll ask Lou to get some eh?'

Catching a glimpse at the clock she pours the boiled water on top of
her milk and quickly skims a tea bag along the top leaving Kruger
munching his breakfast.

The living room curtains stay closed, she likes the small room to stay
dark for as long as it can. Besides, she likes the enclosed feeling.
Placing her tea on the desk she reaches into her pocket where she keeps
her tobacco and Rizlas. She takes each day as it comes and each day
begins with a brew and a fag, after that she doesn't know what the day
can hold. She hates predictability. With one press of a button the
familiar whirring sound gives her butterflies. As the computer does its
thing she finishes rolling her fag and as always is ready to light it
by the time she is able to click onto the internet, smoke filling her
throat and lungs. Yesterday had been a busy day, she'd become involved
in so many discussions, it was the same crowd of people but they always
found something new to talk about; especially when provoked. Sometimes
she barely has time for lunch. Not that she is fussed about eating, she
can think of better things to do. Clicking onto her 'favourites', she
likes to think herself as a writer, of sorts. With so many
correspondences to keep up with she can stay busy all day until she
feels so exhausted she just falls back into bed.

The hot liquid trickles down, her throat savouring the taste.

'Hmmm, 25 emails, ah maybe later.' She wanted to see how far the thread
she'd started about Porn had gotten.

The day she'd discovered the internet had been the first day of the
rest of her life, she was 34.

'Hello Enigma?how is you today? Mwah! Drinkywinky xxx'

IM's were so handy, she chuckles, Awh, drinkywinky is so sweet,
following me around the boards like a little puppy, wherever I post,
you could guarantee she'll be there behind, bless her.

In the cyber world, Lynn was popular, she was argumentative; she could
start a discussion and win it. Newbie's hung on to her every word. Long
standing users respected her. With the touch of a button she had her
arguments ready, all she had to do was appropriate them. The persona
she'd become online was, and she didn't mind saying so, quite
remarkable. Sexy and seductive in the way she projected herself she was
adored especially since she'd submitted a photo. She'd made sure it
hadn't appeared too glossy.

Kruger sat on the sofa purring, seemingly in competition with the
machine. Lynn typed furiously, shuffling in her seat until finally her
dressing gown loosened to reveal her fleshy pale thighs; the belt fell
onto the dusty carpet making Kruger spring up to play. She doesn't move
to grab it back, immersed in another world, her surroundings go
unnoticed. Laughing, frowning, muttering to herself, she had
conversation after conversation with people who had ridiculous
names.

Rubbing her eyes, the numbers on the clock jumped in her face, 13:00.
Her shoulder blades cracked as she pushed them back together, her neck
feeling sore. Oooh I need a massage. She stands and stretches, rubbing
her eyes with the back of her thumb and forefinger. Regaining her
posture, the dryness of her throat hit her. Heading to the kitchen,
Kruger lay sprawled on her bed, breathing steadily. Another cup of tea
was called for. Light headed, she steadies herself whilst the kettle
boils. She needs her medication. Hunched over the sink, she pops two
small white tablets out of the foil and swallows quickly. Damn
headaches. She hates having to take pills. Gulping the hot tea to rid
of the taste she winced at its heat before retracing her steps to
resume her 'work'. Pausing in the doorway, she hadn't heard the post
arrive.

'Hmmm what's this?' She doesn't usually receive snail mail. The
postmark for St James' hospital glared back at her.

Dear Miss Lynn Morrison

Further to your GP's recommendation, Dr Wright. We would like to offer
you an appointment to attend the Neurosurgery and Neurology unit on the
25th August. Your consultant will be Dr Taylor??.

'Kruger?.Kruger?.'

Gasping for breath, the tea slopped onto the carpet as she fell
backwards onto the sofa, the room spinning, staring at the words that
swam around the A4 piece of paper. She wouldn't believe it, she
wouldn't. Lou just couldn't help sticking her oar in, insisting she
went to the doctors. All this time she'd had headaches, she was fine,
she feels better once she takes the pills. For some reason she didn't
want to stop taking them the day Lou popped round to see if she fancied
going into town; if Lou hadn't have called around, well -

Tears tore down her burning cheeks staring at the sight that lay in
front of her. Mugs with stained tea at the bottom littered the coffee
table, ash and stubs spilling onto the floor. Cat hair seemingly
growing from the sofa and chairs. Lifting her nose in the air slightly,
there was a funny smell in the air that certainly wasn't the pot pouri.
The curtains were still closed. She tilts her head, half recognising
her home before once again focusing on the computer. Taking a deep
breath she walks in a trance to the machine, leaving the letter where
she had sat just a moment before. Flicking the tears away, she
continues with her daily correspondence.