Burning Moon (Wattpad Version)

Chapter 1

I woke up with a big happy yawn, pulling the crisp white linen of my duvet down and stretching my sleepy legs. The sun was rushing into my apartment and the birds were chirping in the newly blossoming trees. I could just make out the soft, sweet smell of flowers on the warm morning breeze. Wow, this was the perfect spring morning. This was the perfect day to be getting married. I skipped out of bed; excited for the day ahead and then I saw it…

My wedding dress. Draped over the chair like a dead, decapitated duck.

Like a sledgehammer to my stomach, those four little words came slamming back. I scrambled for my cellphone. My frantic fingers slid across the touch screen, running through the twenty-two messages that were lighting it up. They were from my friends, family, co-workers, my pedicurist and even my mother’s psychic (who was clearly going to get fired!).

But nothing from Michael.

I logged onto Facebook, heart racing with anticipation, and went straight to his page. No new activity. I went to Twitter, also nothing. I checked to see if he was still following me, he was. I checked Instagram, but again, there was no recent sign of life. It was as if he’d dropped off the face of the social media planet, which was completely unlike him. Michael couldn’t sharpen a pencil without Tweeting about it. He couldn’t buy a pair of shoelaces without Instagramming a picture of them, and he couldn’t scratch his head without sharing his thoughts on Facebook. It had been one of the only things I disliked about him. Past tense. Now there were many.

My mind went into overdrive as a series of disgusting thoughts battered their way in.

Where the flaming fuck was he? Was he holed up in a dodgy pay-by-the-hour hotel with some slutty, perspex shoe-wearing stripper with tassels and an STD? Was he partying up a storm, celebrating the fact that he’d missed the wedding, dodged a bullet?

I was grateful when the rich smell of coffee and fatty sausages being cooked yanked me back to reality and gave me something physical to focus on. Because I suddenly realised that I was starving. More hungry than I’d ever been in my entire life. I followed my growling stomach into the kitchen, where I found my friends and family keeping vigil around the table. A chorus of caring “Hellos” rang out. The only response I could muster was a half-hearted nod.

But it wasn’t long before they flocked. They’d always been overprotective that way. My doctor brother, Adam, rushed to my side with a glass of orange juice, a headache tablet and a prescription for those little white pills. I’m sure he would’ve taken my temperature, blood pressure and set up an IV if I’d let him. Val and Sue ushered me to a seat and even Buttons, my cat, rubbed herself at my ankles.

The loud click-clack of expensive heels marched past me, “I swear, don’t push me on this. I might just advise my client to seek damages on the grounds of emotional injury. Not to mention damages for the money spent on the wedding.” My sister-in-law, feisty lawyer and wearer of impossibly high heels, was shouting threats down her phone. She’d been trying to track him down all morning, speaking to every single one of his relatives, no matter how distant and thrice removed. But no luck. Michael was nowhere to be found and now she was threatening to sue everyone.

My stomach growled again, angry that I’d ignored it, and I pulled the plate of sausages towards me. I’d been dieting for months, trying to squeeze my naturally voluptuous figure into that dress, especially after Michael had pointed out a few extra creeping kilos. I hadn’t eaten saturated fat, or been in the same room as a carbohydrate for at least three months, and now… I was going to make up for it.

I grabbed the sausage between my trotters and shoveled it into my gaping beak, washing it down with the glass of orange juice and a butter-laden bagel. Everyone stared at me, but no one dared to speak.