Dzinski – Boxing Day

Next instalment of Dzinski – Christmas. If you admit the plot is incredibly similar to something else (and credit it) is it an homage, inspiration or still just plagiarism? Check out The Main by Trevanian. 

The brunette woke up in a strange bed, again.

Blankets smelling of mothballs and too much detergent pulled up to her nose. Her eyes went wide and then she threw the blankets off. She set her bare feet against the floor and crossed her arms quickly across her chest. Instead of goose pimpled flesh, her fingers brushed against stiff flannel. The brunette picked at the nightgown.

Something drew her fingers towards the bruise under her eye, but she winced in pain before they even made contact. Vague memories flipped through her mind like fireflies in a fog. The brunette pieced enough of the glimpses together for a narrative of the night before. She turned the page to a fresh blank one.

The brunette finally looked over the room.

An armoire, taller than necessary, stood gleaming at the foot of the bed. The wood with that deep richness only acquired after a hundred years of neurotic polishing. Matching end tables flanked either side of the single bed. Faded photographs of a boy with a proud, bucktoothed smile, but something heavy pulling at the corners of his eyes, sat on the tables lined up in an overlapping semi-circle.

She reached for the nearest frame, the boy, chin and mouth covered in blood from a bottom lip almost torn in half. But instead of crying, he smiled and held a cinnamon bun up to the camera.

The brunette hurriedly set the picture back on the table when she heard the door open.


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