Isolde woke up with her skull pounding like a war drum. The world spun, slowly, but it spun nonetheless. A carousel from hell in which she could still hear the demonic chanting from last night.
In distant echo that rang out over and over. A drunken voice shouting the words Chug in rhythmic fashion. Was that voice. . . Alice?
She wondered if the world will stop spinning soon but then realised 'why' it was still spinning.
Somehow, she fell asleep atop a chandelier thus the world spun.
Looking to her right, she shielded her eyes as light filtered through the curtains aggressively, each streak threatening to burn her eyes with malicious intent.
'The happened last night?' Isolde wondered, clutching her head in pain.
Her memories were a blur, distorted images like a hazy illusion in the desert. Laughter, music, off key singing, mugs clattering, more laughing and for some reason. . . Alice was her biggest impression.
