The Improvid series was part of an exercise I engaged in during some days of a Covid-19 lockdown. The idea was that, on a daily basis, I would improvise a short story of less than 1000 words based on three randomly generated prompts - these were reflected in the title of each of the stories. Here's what resulted from that burst of quarantine-induced creativity:
“Oooh, this bottle is too cute! That smell though, ugh, its like a mix of turpentine and pineapple juice. And it isn’t even supposed to be pineapple shampoo! But argh, it’s just too adorable – okay, it’s coming with me.”
When she had finished her inspection of the rest of the toiletries, Enri took a look at herself in the mirror above the sink, and decided to reflect.
It had been a year since she finished her arts degree. It had been two years since she realized it wouldn’t come with much in the way of job prospects. It had been six months since she finally summoned the courage to quit her student job. And it had been five months since her friends convinced her to take up travel blogging. Apparently she had the personality for it.
Maybe that was the problem. The more successful bloggers tended to have two.
She shook her head, her frizzled brown hair idly waving about. She was doing okay for someone who had just started out, and she had refused the temptation to get a boost from peddling energy drinks too. She had standards. Besides, her brand of eclectic photography mixed with low-budget travelling couldn’t fit in corporate endorsements like that.
Still, it would be nice to be more noticed...
“Hmm, this spot has some good lighting. Let’s see, if I put the shampoo like this, then... ugh, I just can’t make this hand sanitizer look good, can I? But that shower gel, if I arrange it like this... there we go! Now, where’s my phone...?”
It was then that Enri realized that she’d left her phone charging near the bed. She had plugged it in, hmm, maybe five minutes ago? It should have regained enough charge for a couple of pictures.
Humming a tune she’d been listening to on the way here, she reached for the bathroom’s door handle, and turned it.
Nothing happened.
She tried turning it a few more times. She then yanked the handle in a few directions thinking it might have been jammed. No luck. She tried banging on the door.
It simply wouldn’t budge.
*
“You idiot! Do the regulations mean nothing to you? You’re supposed to lock them in AFTER they start singing, not before!”
“I’m telling you, I have a good feeling about this one! I heard her while she was unpacking in the bedroom, she’s got - ”
“Do you have any idea what would happen to the hotel’s reputation if word got out about this? Just because YOU don’t care about your job doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t!”
“You know, if you overreacted just a bit more, you could re-enact the Chernobyl meltdown.”
“How DARE you - ”
“Shhh! Listen, I think she’s going to start...”
*
One would think this hotel would have put emergency phones in their bathrooms. Especially with their particular breed of malfunctioning doors. Enri sighed, and then began to remove her clothes. Might as well get on with the shower she had intended to have in the first place.
As she had hoped, her worries were rinsed off her slender shoulders by the generous torrent of hot water gushing out of the shower head. She fiddled with the knob until the temperature was just right, and then deeply sighed in relief.
Something about the way the sound echoed off the walls gave her inner thoughts a little nudge. Acoustics in shower cubicles were generally great, but this one had a certain timbre to it... she decided to investigate further.
The tune turned up in her head again. This time, she decided to give it a voice.
“I want to break free...”
*
“Queen, eh? She has good taste, I’ll give her that.”
“Listen to that voice though. Can you feel it? She’s barely trying, and already there’s so much emotion in it!”
“Nnnngh... look, this still doesn’t excuse you breaking protocol – ”
“Management won’t care about that once they find out about her! Now stop fussing and start the accompaniment. We definitely have that song in the database.”
“Fine. But you’re doing the reporting on this, because it’s your mess to clean up if they don’t like it!”
*
“It’s strange, but it’s true...”
She wasn’t imagining it, was she? There was definitely a backing track to her song playing somewhere inside the bathroom.
No, maybe she was imagining it. She was just really swept up in the feels of the song, that was it, yeah. And the strangely intoxicating smell of the not-pineapple shampoo. And the wholesome gushing of the hot water. It was all elevating her to a different mental state.
Fully into the rhythm of the music, she began to belt out the guitar solo.
*
“So, er, what do you think, sir?”
“She is a suitable candidate. Well done.”
“Ha! I knew she’ll be a good pick!”
“Ugh, can you at least TRY to show decorum when your superiors are present!”
“Stop this bickering at once, and begin the gassing procedure.”
“Yes, sir!”
*
Like the fluffy towel she wrapped herself in, Enri was feeling warm and fuzzy. She really liked the drowsy yet tingling sensation she got after a hot water shower. Although, as she finished wrapping up her hair in another towel, she wondered if maybe she was feeling too drowsy. She got her answer when the room started to spiral into darkness before she could even touch the door handle.
She was still in a tidy heap on the floor when the door finally opened.
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