She had gotten used to the ear-cracking squeak the door made when it opened, and the heavy slam it made no matter how softly she tried to close it. Inside her apartment, it was extremely cold; the only way she was able to afford it with any money left for groceries was to have very little heating, no TV and very little internet. Taking a single step into her apartment, which was really nothing more than a cupboard, she felt paper beneath her foot, the crunch of the mail. She picked it up and flicked through it like it was a deck of playing cards. Bill, bill, notice, leaflet, and at the bottom of the pile was the letter she had been both dreading and eagerly anticipating; the letter that would tell her if she was going to make it big yet.

Though she all but knew what the outcome would be, she still felt a great sense of nervousness when she plunged her finger into the top, to get at the letter inside. Her eyes glazed over most of it, something about thanking her for auditioning, how they were impressed by her. Then, her eyes settled on the section she should not have been surprised by; she had been rejected again. Specifically, the wording was “not right at this time” which translated to “not attractive enough” in Hannah’s experience.

She felt like she had read the same letter a million times, but each time felt as crushing as the last. Trying, but failing, to let it not get to her, she staggered about her apartment, flicking her shoes off as she headed towards the phone, to try and get the landlord to sort out the light bulb that was creating an obnoxious strobe effect. She dialled the number, and upon the first ring, decided her mood was not adequate to deal with the disinterested and irritable nature of her landlord.

A few steps to her left brought her to the fridge, its light long since extinguished, but at least it still kept things cold. It was one of Hannah’s few possessions, along with her phone and bed, which was still in working order. With a harsh tug, the fridge door finally conceded to being opened, and there inside it sat a (surprisingly) in date yoghurt; hardly a substitute for dinner, but at least it was the next best thing. Hannah’s stomach growled, before she started eagerly consuming the yoghurt. She shrunk into her moderately comfortable chair, looking out at the night-time city, though the sky was as illuminated and bright as day, and the air was filled with the sound of cars honking their horns, that thankfully became silenced when she moved away from the window.

Suddenly, a bizarre and unpleasant sensation washed over Hannah. First and foremost, her head felt excruciatingly light, not the kind of light headedness from tiredness, but the kind from feeling unwell. The second was an unusual heat that ran over her, like blood was flowing faster than it should at a sitting down position; her heartbeat rang in her ears, and it was beating madly… As she fanned herself wildly, the third symptom made itself known; an extreme hunger, though she thought that was probably due to the fact that she had barely eaten a thing that day. But if she had, she would have noticed her stomach tearing itself apart to have something substantial inside it. Wanting the day, and these rather concerning, sudden symptoms to end, she decided it was time to head for bed.

Before she even knew she had begun, she had finished her yoghurt. Looking at her watch, she saw it was nearly 11, and she had to be up for work at 8. Standing up and stretching for a brief moment, she headed to her bedroom where, at the drop of a hat, she transformed into her pyjamas, a baggie, buttoned up long sleeved shirt and even baggier, almost flared trousers, both items of clothing blue with a white polka dot pattern on them. Before she fell into bed, she looked at the framed picture of the rest of her family on holiday at a beach three years prior. In the foreground was Hannah and her sister, Jessica, and behind them was their older brother Thomas, and in the background, unaware of the photograph being taken was her portly father, Darren, and thin yet resilient looking mother, Maria.

From outside her bedroom, her phone echoed is screeching tone. Responding with a startled and frustrated sigh, Hannah wandered over to it. Loosely gripping the phone out of the cradle, she bid it hello, and once more placed herself in the armchair, waiting for a reply.

“Hannah?” asked the familiar male tone. It peaked Hannah’s interest, as she sat up, leaning forwards. She didn’t want to take a guess as to who it was yet, but certainly she was interested to find out.

“Yeah…” she responded, sceptically

A few seconds passed “It’s Tom”

Hannah was a mixture of delight and confusion. It had felt like ages since she had spoken to her brother. With a small smile upon her lips, she replied in the most enthusiastic tone she could muster after such a stressful and tiring day. “Tom? Hey! How are you? What time is it over there?”

“I’m okay, it’s seven a.m. over here, and I was just about to set off for work. Felt like calling you.”

Twirling the cord around her finger, “And why would that be?”

“Well, it just feels like ages since we last spoke. Just wanted to check in… you sound… tired”

“Well, it is eleven here. And, you know… Saturday shift…” she explained, in a resigned tone.

With a spark of curiosity in his tone, Tom asked “How did the audition go?”

And with a regretful tone, she answered bluntly. “Got turned down again” Hannah looked out her window and noticed a pair of cats scrabbling across the rooftops.

“Oh…” the distorted voice on the phone replied “Well, there’s always next time, right?”

“I guess. There’s an audition for a commercial for some mint or something coming up, might try that.” Hannah pondered, rubbing her moon-sized eyes.

“Oh yeah?” stated Tom, a cheery peek to his similarly sleepy tone “Well, best of luck with that. You’ll make I big someday, I just know it.” He said, sincerely

“Christ, getting engaged made you into dad…” Hannah proclaimed with a small giggle in her tone. She always met sentimentality with a snappy, sarcastic remark.

“Well, next time I won’t give you any kind words” replied Tom, matching his sister’s ironic tone.

“Make sure you don’t.” Hannah gave a yawn, before telling her brother “I should really be getting to bed- I’ve got work tomorrow and… Well, I’m not feeling too well. Feeling hot and I’ve got a light head…”

“Ah, a cold, maybe? Hey, maybe a day or two off work right? Jessica said she’d call later- I guess tomorrow for you. You get off earlier on Sundays, right?”

“Right- I get off at 6.”

“Well, see you soon.”

“Bye…”

Down went the phone into the cradle. Though only a brief distraction from the tedium of her everyday life, it offered a ray of sunshine, and a taste of home. Pushing herself up from her deep seat, she wandered back over to her blue-walled bedroom, its faded paint peeling significantly.

As she clambered into bed, she found the most unconventional symptoms growing only slightly improved as she took the pressure off herself, lying down on her soft, reassuring mattress.

Smacking the light switch with a flick of her wrist, darkness bathed her bedroom, and left her alone in a peaceful sleep, alone with her thoughts, and her teddy bear, which was filled to the brim with sentimental value; her mother had bought it for her just before she left for America. She named him after the punch line to a long forgotten joke shared between her and her sister; Mr Gumdrop.

Within moments of the light going out, far faster than she had ever fallen asleep before, she was locked into a deep, almost unnatural sleep. It was as though she had been rendered unconscious rather than drifting into it herself, a result of the symptoms. Hannah looked to be in a peaceful and quiet slumber, but something was unusual, different. She was normally as static as a log when she slept; tonight she was thrashing around like a mad-woman. And not just twisting and turning, kicking, twitching, convulsing, it looked more like a seizure or a possession that it did a sleep. Her breathing was irregular too, to match. Whereas usually she took a second and a half or so to take a breath in and out each when sleeping, here it seemed entirely random. Sometimes it would take a good few seconds to take a breath out, where as a breath in would take half a second, or vice versa, and all the while her skin was growing more and more pale. If anyone had been watching her, they would have come to the conclusion that she would need urgent medical attention. Luckily for her own health however, the convulsing and heavy breathing stopped. She lay static with ruffled bed sheets on top of her, as though nothing had happened.

She lay there innocently for a few seconds, before the most unusual thing yet happened. The five foot five woman was… growing. Within a matter of seconds, she had reached 6 foot, within several minutes, 7 foot, a matter of minutes after that, 10 foot, fewer minutes after that, twenty foot; at this point, she was pressed up against the walls of her box apartment, doubtlessly putting pressure on them to burst into rubble. Along with this, her baggie pyjamas had ripped off, leaving a completely unaware, naked Hannah. And it was speeding up…