It was the constant ringing that roused him out of his dazed deep sleep, he whined and reluctantly waved his arms blindly out of his comfortable warm covers but gave up after the ringing stopped. He put both his hands to his face and rubbed his temple as if to soothe the hangover out of his pores, after several minutes of this he shakily sat up in his bed.

“Uh, how the hell did I get home last night,” he asked himself still blurry eyed, “and where are my clothes?” he looked around his room and noticed the clothes he was wearing the night before folded up neatly and on top of his wardrobe.

“That’s odd,” he thought, “I never put my clothes up there, must’ve been way out of it,” he shrugged it off thinking it was just one of those peculiar things he does when he’s that drunk.

He struggled to stand up since the muscles in his legs and arms ached immensely and his skin seemed to tingle in the morning sun which struck his eyes like needles but he persevered. Waddling with care over to the window, he could see the sun was high in the sky so he knew it was noon and not a cloud in sight too so the heat was astounding. Below him he could see children playing in the park near his house, making too much noise for his liking or just because it irritated the hung-over part of him he hammered on the window.

The children looked up immediately and searched for the origin of the noise, surprise caved to curiosity and slight fear as they couldn’t see anyone who could’ve made the sudden clatter. He still stood at the window also perturbed that they can’t see him but then he looked up at the sun and understood that it
must have been the glare of the sun on the window that masked him from their view. Smirking at his luck he thought, “At least they’ve stopped for now,” and managing to stumble his way through his bedroom into the bathroom.

He ran the cold tap for several seconds before splashing his face which helped wash out some but not all of the hangover, a good breakfast should handle the rest. He turned to the towel rack under the mirror and dabbed his face dry but as the towel dabbed lower he opened his eyes and looked at the mirror. An ice cold sensation flooded down his spine at the same time as his mouth going as dry as a desert. His eyes at first couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing so he blinked once, twice, three times but no change. It steadily dawned on him that this was his reality and no dream.

Dropping the towel he crept closer to the mirror and stood there. His heart beat like a jack hammer and he felt his mouth go wide as he saw there was no reflection of him in the mirror. He thought back to the kids playing and the reason why they couldn’t see him, it wasn’t because of the glare it was because somehow during the night he had become truly invisible. Panic started to set in as he stormed downstairs and confronted his mother who was sat peacefully watching her shows. But no matter how much he yelled and pleaded his own mother couldn’t even see or even hear him.

Anger and desperation seeped through him like poison and finally he struck his hand out at the TV remote control knocking it out of his mother’s hands. His mum jumped in surprise and looked down at her hand where a red hand mark started to appear, surprise was replaced by fear as she got up, retrieved the remote and looked it over. She was visibly shaken as she looked around the room with the remote held tight in both hands. It was then that he understood, he can no longer interact with anyone but only physical objects when he got impassioned. He looked to his mother with a tear in his eye, said goodbye and ran away never to be seen or heard from again.

  • Sheepz

    So good pls do more

    • Elliot Dean Rance

      Lots more to come, thanks for the comment, means a lot!! 🙂

  • Stephanie Reynolds

    I thought the story was really going somewhere (and as a side note, it’s super refreshing to see someone use proper sentence structure and grammar) but the ending so abrupt and didn’t really make sense. If he can interact with objects and touch people, why wouldn’t he write her a note? So basically my suggestion would be to take off the last sentence and maybe make a mini series.

    • Elliot Dean Rance

      Yeah I see what you mean, this was written back when I was just starting to write again and didn’t quite know how to end it properly, also I spotted a few plot holes but I’m glad you like the build up and the idea of a mini-series intrigues me. Thanks for your comment!! 🙂

  • Rose Morrison

    Great premise. I did wonder if you meant fazed, rather than phased? It just seemed to fit better?! Apologies if I’m perceived as hyper critical. I like the idea of a series too.