I awoke to a strange noise emanating from the red glowing alarm clock on my bedside table. Normally a hideous beeping noise drags me from my slumber and forces me to curse like a soldier on the western front who's just had a hot cup of soup shot out from his hand but on this occasion there was nothing but a noise like one you would expect to hear in heaven. Words cannot describe such a noise, which is fortunate because it means I don't have to bother describing it any further.

I sat up in my king sized, plain sheet covered bed and realised that neither me nor my partner had pulled the sheets off of the bed due to our excessive fidgeting in our sleep. This struck me as odd because despite even stapling the damn things to the side of the bedstead we always managed to dislodge them and ended up sleeping on bare mattress. This time however comfort ruled the entire night.

The day was starting off better than usual.
I ventured down stairs to where my girlfriend and stepson type person already were. Somehow they had got up without me noticing allowing me to be completely refreshed whereas normally I am a light sleeper, one disturbed by my own breathing.

My girlfriend's son, Henry, was sitting on the plain wooden floor and was viciously smashing a piece of food against the side of his head whilst grinning like a maniac. This was normal, well it was sometimes, but unlike normal his flaying arms were knocking all sorts of pieces of furniture into place as opposed to out of place.

I tapped little Henry on his head, he said something incomprehensible to me and then I headed into kitchen and found my beautiful girlfriend, Emma, making marmite and banana toast. Fortunately this is what normally happens when I walk into the kitchen, it was already perfect and on this strangely good day it remained so. I almost fell over though when I noticed the kitchen side was tidy of the rancid mess I had left the night before.

'Not me,'� Emma said spotting the savage shock I was undergoing from seeing the germ free and mess free kitchen. Was there a little more room in it today? I put the thought from my mind.

Emma handed me a plate with perfectly cooked toast and I took a mouthful and all my taste buds struck in unison causing a drug like reaction in the back of my head. I took another mouthful and noticed that not only was the toast not losing its heat but it was in fact slightly warmer than the previous bite.

'Hmmmm good toast babes.'� Emma smiled.

I turned and walked into the living room where Henry was still flaying around but had some how managed to tidy, hover and dust the entire place all by accident.

'Good boy,'� I told him and he grinned a goofy grin, burped and vomited down his front. I turned to point this out to Emma but when I had turned back the vomit had gone. Cool.

The rest of the morning continued like that, the baby transfer to the car went smoothly, cars seemed to move out of my way, all my favourite songs on the radio as well as tonnes of cool new ones, with the DJs even telling us what they were. Me and Emma chatted the entire way, I loved the sound of her voice, the things she had to say, her ideas about life and the like and she liked me in the same way, so that was pretty damn normal.

Once the car was empty, my mood dropped, off to my hellishly boring IT job. If only I could write for a living instead of doing such a vile job.

As I drove, I kept taking the wrong turnings, I seemed to be completely out of control.

'Goddamn idiot,'� I screamed at myself but at each turning where I meant to turn around and correct my foolish error I deviated more and more from my route.

I found myself behind an old fashioned large Georgian building close to the sea front in Brighton which was strange as I thought my house was in Reading and I certainly hadn't left the town at all to get to this odd parking spot.

I then realised, as my mind went over the morning, that the house I had woken up in was a bit bigger than the night before, possibly a four or five bedroom house with all the latest features and a bundle of expensive furniture, whereas I had gone to sleep in a two bedroom town house with less than desirable bits of bobs. How had I not noticed that earlier? I decided it didn't matter, it was my story and things happen as I want them to.

I got out of my car having determined that I would investigate what was happening to avoid working at my boring job for the day. This day was all very strange and weird things like this trippy day were worth exploring. In any case it was more interesting than telling some mindless fool to reboot their computer because I couldn't be bothered to work out what was wrong with it.

I let my brainy feet control where I was going as they had done the business as I drove around Brighton.

I headed towards the towering Georgian building I had parked behind. The sun was on my back and there wasn't a cloud in the sky but the sky was full of wonderful rainbows shining like newly polish silver. Whilst this was odd I decided is was damn fine thing to see.

I wondered where my feet were going to take me.

A large white but highly tanned orange security guard stood up and opened the door for me.

'Good morning Mr. McCoull, how is your forth book coming along?'�

Forth book? Christ I've only written a first draft of my first book and I haven't even touched that for a few weeks and how the hell did he know who I was? Freak!

I smiled and nodded and edged around him deciding he could be dangerous. The man was probably on some strange mind altering drugs shipped in especially for security guards from the Amazon by men in speed boats all going by the name Pedro therefore fulfilling every single stereotype Hollywood can muster about South Americans.

I walked down a small dark corridor past several doors to small company offices and then I found a door with my name written on it.

I found a key in my pocket and then opened the door and it squeaked in a lovely pleasant way. The room inside was basic. There was a large wooden desk with a black PC and a telephone on it. On the left wall there was a pin board covered in notes and various scribbles in my handwriting, and on the right hand side were shelves buried beneath an abundance of notebooks, dictionaries, thesauruses, and tens of fictional books.

The phone on the desk rang, again the noise was somewhat more pleasant than it should have been and I wondered if I had been spiked with some kind of audible drug.

I picked it up.

'Steve, we've got the first five chapters and they are great. The best you've done yet.'�

I should have been into my second hour at the IT slave driving centre but for some reason I knew this was someone who worked for a publisher and they probably published me.

'Great but how good was my first three books?'�

'Steve you ok?'�

'Just answer the question.'� I snapped, still feeling a little confused whilst imaging I was probably locked up in the confines of some evil little mental hospital with some doctors poking me whilst others holding their chins and trying to look important and brainy.

'Well your first three books have sold, so far, fifty million copies world wide and have caused a dramatic reduction of the world's rain forests.'�

'Christ I destroy rain forests? Blimey I am evil but more importantly am I good?'�

'You maybe evil and yes you are good but you need to snap out of whatever hangover you're in and get to work and finish this book so that I can retire to an Island off of the Great Barrier reef.'�

'I hope you get eaten by sharks.'� I shouted as the line went dead.

I found that even in the perfect world I was still a moody bastard but that suited me just fine, it improves the writing craft. Well that's what I kidded myself.

I turned my PC on and sat down in the basic school like chair. Despite being made of plastic I felt like I was sitting on air covered in the most expensive silk know to man.

'I could get used to this miracle day malarkey.'� I mused to myself.

Opposite me was a wooden slated window facing the sea. The sun shone on the incredibly large and powerful waves that rolled into the shore despite the noticeable lack of wind.

A blue, red and yellow bird, of a type I had never before but that was more beautiful than even the most shiny, colourful, parrot, suddenly flew onto the window ledge and managed to open the window and then began to sing a rendition of what could only be the Beatles 'Here comes the Sun'.

'Sweet.'� I said whilst wondering what probes the doctors at the mental hospital were inserting into my brain right now.

My PC had powered up and I logged on using the username and password I hadn't known even half a second before but that rattled off of my fingers like second nature.

I went through the files on it and found the first draft of my forth book. I opened it and there were over fifty thousand glorious words before me with the last sentence left incomplete as I always do so as to help me start writing the next day.

I suddenly felt a pull to the keyboard that I could not control. My fingers working themselves into a kind of blurry haze normally just found on the M25 during the rush hour at the height of summer. I knew where the story was going and I stayed that way for the next four hours with only the singing bird for continuous company, although he did occasionally excuse himself for a cigarette.

The only human company I had were various sized staff members of businesses that also used the building. One would poke their head around the corner and furnish me with coffee and doughnuts and other sticky pastry goods, have a brief chat and then be on their way. This happened several times during the morning and it appeared that I was well liked in the building. And why not?

At one o'clock I found the pull of the toilet and incessant need for healthy food too fierce to resist. I saved my work, over five thousand words, and the machine automatically took a backup of the work.

I left the building, avoiding any close contact with the grinning maniac that was employed as a security guard by the owners of the building. A pitbull terrier would have been a safer staff member I was sure.

At that time my mobile went and I dragged it out of my pocket, despite its vibrations being strangely pleasant against my leg. I answered it.

'Where are you? It's Angela Bogbrush from the Guardian, I am meant to be interviewing you.'�

'Ah Angela, I am sorry about this but I have to see my wife. It's a terrible thing to stand you up, and I will make it up to you, but today is so off the wall that I must talk to her.'�

I hung up and I realised that I had called Emma my wife when earlier in the day she had only been my girlfriend. Christ when did that happen? Well hopefully she agreed to such a union and the fact she's fantastic means that I was pretty pleased with the situation as well.

Suddenly the traffic on the sea front road all parted and allowed an exclusive looking limo through the jam. It parked in front of me and the door opened.

Emma got out, looking beautiful as ever and unlike any women I had been fortunate enough to feast my eyes on. Her clothes hung on her body with grace, hinting at her amazing figure below.

'Babes, this is the perfect day, a miracle of sorts but you're still the same. You know what that means?'�

'That it's not a miracle?'�

'No muffas, it means you're already bloody perfect.'� She moved towards me and gave me a big hug meaning that I could feel her body as close to mine as physically possible. I kissed her briefly and stopped when I saw a nanny bring out the walking Henry, my now official stepson, and also a sweet little girl in the her arms.

'Who's this?'�

'It's you're son.'� Emma said looking at me through half closed eyes, suggesting she was wondering if I was all there.

'Of course it is.'� I replied. 'I've always wanted a son and now I have one with the most amazing person on earth.'�

'Hey you soppy git, you've had a son for the last four months.'�

'I have?'� Emma frowned. 'Of course I have.'� Emma gave me a huge kiss and then I picked my daughter up and she looked up at me with big bright eyes and smiled a half smile that only young children are capable of. My heart melted.

Emma squeezed my bum and the nanny, who I hadn't spoken to due to writing laziness, took the child back and disappeared into the limo that also promptly vanished.

'I've got a hotel room booked,'� Emma purred and the next hour or so isn't for any random readers consumption but be sure to say it put both of us in a nicely relaxed mood.

After our fun in the hotel, an expensive one by the way as we can afford such extravagances with my big payouts from my previous books, we went to a French restaurant where a whole bunch of our friends were, because we have a lot of friends of all various sorts, but all of them are good worthwhile people. The sort of people you can trust, well most of the time, and have fun with.

We spent the following hour with these people, eating, chatting and generally having a good time. As the hour drew to a close Emma leaned into me and told me 'I have to go back to work now, I can't wait.'� She grinned as she ran off.

It turned out she was doing a job that was in no way mundane, one that used all her talents and expanded her as a person, and this was another thing in her life that made her happy. Which was all good.

Not wanting to leave I stayed for ten minutes more before heading off back to my own little private office, where I managed to go over my work of the morning and correct all the little errors and annoyances that occur when writing at speed.

At five o'clock I was happy with the five thousand words I had bashed out, sure that I was a great writer and that the world would see it, and satisfied that not once had the work of the day been something that I didn't want to do and not only that my day had been full of an assortment of fun.

I nodded goodbye to the bird at the window, which to be honest was starting to look a little tired and in the need of some sleep. I left the office and walked past the hired goon. As I opened the door to the building I found myself walking into the grand, modern but not too large hallway of my house.

It turns out that in the perfect world the laws of physics do not apply which is good because I hate driving places even if the traffic does move out of my way because it's the miracle day. Walking out of work and straight into my house is the way forward and then some.

I walked into the living room, which I now noticed was full of hundreds of thousands of pounds worth of furniture. It's modern yet homely and the kids (because there's two now remember) still are some how accidentally cleaning the place during the course of their playing and their thrashing about.

I walked into the kitchen, picked up an egg out of the super sized fridge and bowled it into the living room where it smashed on the floor. It was a test you see, and within a minute the kids had cleaned it up. It truly was a miracle day.

I felt a hand wrap around my waist and I turned and was greeted by the smiling face of my wonderful wife, who I still love like nothing on Earth.

'Good day?'�

'Christ, it's the best day ever. I've written for England after finding out this is my forth book and that I am rich, I've had fun with you, discovered you're my wife and that not only am I a step dad but I am a dad as well, had an amazing time with you in the hotel, an amazing time with a few of our mates, found out you're in a job you love, written some more and now found myself here with you after you've had a great day at your own fantastic job. So as days go this was is ok-ish I suppose.'� I reply winking.

'Well don't get too comfortable, your parents have the kids for the weekend and I have a shipment and the finest grade Columbian arriving here on Friday night along with Pete Tong the DJ and all our hundreds of mates. After that I am taking you up for a parachute jump, and then a flight over to Amsterdam for a night and then back here.'�

'Oh dear,'� I groaned trying to maintain my old man image whilst leaping for joy at the thought of a crazy weekend with the woman I love and load of my mates.

'Don't worry old man, I've booked us into to a spa for the following weekend as I know you can't cope at all.'� Truth was she couldn't cope either.

'Emma you're a big contradiction, and I love it.'� And the evening continued but I think you catch my drift so I will finish here.

The end.

© Stephen McCoull 2007

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