Me, Myself and I (Dark Reflections Series Book 1)

By Natasha Duncan-Drake

Book 1 of the Dark Reflections Series

Tristan is an actor and he plays a supervillain in the movies. At least he thought he did, but then he has an accident and he wakes up surrounded by the world of the films. Now he has to figure out if he's hallucinating, if somehow the movies are real and he's been transplanted to another world or if he is actually Devon, a supervillain having a psychotic break. Whatever the answer: it's frighteningly crazy.

"Me, Myself and I" is a sci-fi/fantasy novelette (~15.5Kwds), with a heavy side of male/male romance.

This is the first story in the Dark Reflections Series. Book 2 will be out in the near future.
Please see WittegenPress.com for full details.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wittegen Press
• Release date: Apr 3, 2012
• ISBN: 9781908333339

Natasha Duncan-Drake

Natasha is a British author with Wittegen Press and has been publishing genre fiction since 2011. Her work includes everything from horror to young adult fantasy and she has never met a genre she didn’t like. A prolific producer of short stories and novels alike, Natasha currently has over twenty five titles in her back catalogue with further releases always imminent.Natasha has been writing since she was a young girl ever since she read The Hobbit at Primary School. She is a big fan of science fiction, fantasy and horror in all their forms and is a big advocate of fanfiction as a great tool for writers to polish their skills in a welcoming and supportive community.Before establishing Wittegen Press with her twin sister, Sophie Duncan, Natasha was a database and systems consultant. She combines these skills with her writing to create and manage her career in the bold new eBook market.

Book preview

Me, Myself and I

Book 1 of Dark Reflections

by

Tasha D-Drake

Smashwords Edition

Dark Reflections, Book 1

This publication is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organisations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.

Wittegen Press

http://www.wittegenpress.com/

Copyright © 2011 by Tasha D-Drake

http://www.wittegenpress.com/tashaddrake

Cover art by Natasha Duncan-Drake

Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favourite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.

ISBN 978-1-908333-33-9

Dedication

Thank you so much to my husband Rob and my sister Sophie for all their support. I couldn't do this without them.

~*~

Contents

Me, Myself and I

Also Available from the Author

Afterword

~*~

Me, Myself and I

Tristan ran his fingers through his hair and was so incredibly glad not to meet the long tangles he'd been dealing with for weeks. Makeup had kindly removed the extensions he'd had in for filming and he hadn't even put any product in his hair after washing it, so it was curling wildly. Being free of the black contacts he'd been wearing was also heaven and he had every intention of enjoying the wrap party to the fullest.

It had been a long shoot, but he wasn't about to complain, not even about the crazy costume. The movie would be the next year's big summer blockbuster and he was lucky to be in it. The writers had never really intended for him to have a part, but the fans had demanded otherwise. It was the third movie in a set and he really enjoyed playing a supervillain, but, originally, no one had thought about contracting him for more than the first two.

Hey, Trist, someone called, a little drunkenly, show us how to open a bottle of champagne.

It was part of the running joke of the cast; anything remotely posh and they asked him, because of his English boarding school background. He gave Eric the finger in good humour. Eric was one of the other stars who had played the big hero in the first movie.

In that film Tristan had been the good guy who lost control of his powers, went nuts and turned into a villain, turning on the man who was like his brother. In the second he'd been the supervillain defeated at the last moment by an ensemble of good guys and possibly killed and then they'd resurrected him in the third with a side of redemption where he'd teamed up with the good guys to defeat an even bigger bad than his character.

Tristan could put up with the insane sci-fi fans and sneers from snobby critics, because the films had made his career. The producers were already talking about number four and he'd been optioned to be in it. He might have been RADA trained, but he wasn't going to sniff at good money and awesome fight scenes. He could do Shakespeare in between making blockbusters.

Oh shit, he heard and turned, Trist, look out.

He had just enough time to see the champagne cork flying towards him and then it hit him right between the eyes. He stumbled backwards, slipped, his head hit the wall and everything went black.

When he came to, his skull felt like it was splitting.

Ow, he said and tried to lift his hand to rub something to ease the pain and came up short.

That got his attention and suddenly he was awake. He could barely move. He was strapped down at ankles, wrists, chest and pelvis and when he opened his eyes he was in a well lit white room with mirrored windows along two sides. At first he panicked, thinking spine injury and other horrible things, but then he realised the room looked familiar.

For a second he just lay there and stared.

What the hell? he asked no one in particular.

The room looked like the set, only the set of the room he appeared to be in hadn't had all four walls or a ceiling, or, for that matter, surveillance cameras in all four corners.

Looking down at himself, he found he was wearing some white pyjama pants and nothing else, which explained why he was a little chilly. The straps holding him down were large and black. It all looked like the set, just more real and not Hollywood. The only conclusion he could reach was that it was someone's idea of a joke.

It wasn't very funny, because his head hurt quite a lot and he was pretty sure you weren't supposed to play jokes on people with concussion.

Hello, he said, trying not to sound too pissed off.

Everyone at the party had had quite a bit to drink and he didn't want to make too much fuss out of harmless fun.

Can someone come and let me out please? he asked, hoping that someone was actually listening. I'm sure the joke's hilarious, but I have a headache from hell and would really like an aspirin.

There was no response from anywhere and he lay there for a little while in silence. He was all up for a little fun, but now it was getting beyond a joke.

Hello, he said again, louder this