"Dammit, there's so much to write."
My hands were tired from pressing the keyboard keys. This was tiresome work; writing a novel isn't a simple thing, you know.
I mean, have you ever written twenty novels and left them just because they failed you? You couldn't earn a penny from them, or because you had this new brilliant idea that seemed better than the one you were currently working on?
But… then your mind has this sparkling idea, and you're determined to complete this one novel.
Something like that.
"That's too long of a novel." I said, tired of working. "There aren't many views either."
I sighed and leaned back in the chair. My eyes red and drowsy, I wanted to sleep, but finishing the last chapter was important.
My twenty-first novel, The Star Novel, with a misleading name, was a story in which humanity was thrown into a world with chaos. They have to clear scenarios, which I called games.
What was the most interesting thing about this novel was that there weren't any main characters. Rather, their star characters were the role characters in the story.
Finally, this novel was getting views, but with time passing, it was only two views per chapter. I didn't mind, as long as these two people were enjoying my novel; what else would I want? Just for the sake of these two readers, I continue to write.
Thankfully, I wasn't completely broken. The two readers were generous enough to donate money.
Just then my phone rang on the desk; as I picked it up, there was a message on it.
- How's it going?
Who's this? It was an unknown number. Wait hang on a second, The first three digits indicated the number from united states. Who could it be? I ranked my already tired brain but there was no one coming in mind.
- Who's this?
- Already forgotten? In my 15 years with this introvert, he's forgotten already—unbelievable.
A number then clicked in my mind.
- Clyseus White?
- Heaven has returned your wits to you. Thank God for that.
He was a friend, a close and only friend, I should say. I was an introvert, barely able to talk to anybody. Even during school time, I never talked with people.
I was like a silent weirdo of the class, but then again, I never minded them. They were people, and being among them as a silent person is like a dwarf living with giants.
- How's your stay in the US?
- Help me!
For a moment, I panicked! Something was wrong/
- What Happened?
- Too much work. They will kill me. They have guns too. What's wrong with this country?
That fool was joking.
- You wanted to go there; it was your dream.
- Dream my *ss, I will be back soon. Maybe tomorrow or the next day.
- Alright, I have to do some work; I will call you later.
- Alright.
I didn't ask for details, nor do I want to ask him why he was coming back. It would be better having that fool around.
Oh, I forgot to introduce myself; I'm Author Luis. Yes, 'Author' is not a title but a part of my name. And don't expect me to be a top-level author either. As you can see from above, my novel's condition could already be clear to you.
I looked outside the window and saw the clouds drifting closer to the sun.
There will be rain soon.
I was up on my feet, shutting my computer off; down the building, I was standing in the street, observing the people passing by.
Inhaling the cool air that was kind of polluted. I strolled with my phone in hand. Down the street was the bookshop. As I entered, the bell rang above the door, alarming the bookseller.
"You're here." Said the bookseller, he had blonde hair and pale skin like milk.
I sat on the chair and asked him, "How was the sale?"
Since the digital novel wasn't my only way of earning, I created my own copies of the novel and sent them to my father's close friend. Yes, the bookseller, I was able to get some money in hand.
I was basically raised by him; when I was nine, my parents disappeared. Regardless of how much searching the police had done, there was no trace of them. As if they never existed.
If it weren't for this person, perhaps I wouldn't know where I would have been standing.
"Not much this time around, a few."
"And how few are those?" I asked with an innocent face.
"One."
That was a disappointment, as it left me dejected. "Who was this one person?" I was curious and a little excited.
Why wouldn't I be? My books were at least being bought by others. Even if it's one person.
"A woman—I didn't ask her name. She asked for the star novel's ninth version."
She asked? Usually, it would be my uncle (his father's friend) who would be recommending it to the people, but there is one person who knows about the novel?
My heart pounded with bliss.
Could it be one of the readers? Obviously not; my digital novel version is free to read. What's the point of buying the book? It was hardly known that my novels were in this store.
Perchance, could it be her? There was one woman I knew. But I never told her about my novel, nor was it possible. I never told my closest friend about my novel, or else I would have been killed with those seasoned hands.
Don't think about it. I shook such thoughts away.
I heave a sigh and looked at my uncle. He brought me a coffee.
"By the way, I have been meaning to ask you." I said a little reluctantly.
"Go ahead," He sipped his tea and looked at me.
"How old are you?" I asked, a little abashed.
My uncle chuckled. Oh, come on! I know this question may seem stupid, but if he's my father's age, he would at least look old enough.
If someone saw him, they would say he's almost a year younger than me. By the way, I'm twenty-four. He looked exactly like how I first saw him when my father introduced me to him.
Maybe he's an immortal? What a stupid thought.
If it weren't for him, I would never have been a writer.
"A person has a secret, you know." He grinned, and those milky teeth were visible.
Such a decent person, he even takes care of his teeth while I struggle to stick to a single routine.
My phone rang again, and this time when I checked, it was a reminder for the editing period. I can't miss that! I have to edit my novel since the deadline is close, and I wanted my readers to read the last chapter of the novel. I mean two readers.
As I was up, I glanced at the shelves. Every title I saw, I never found them outside this store. Albeit these were the books I read.
"I'm going now; I have little work left to do." I said, waving my hand.
As I reached close to the door, he called my name and said, "I say, you better stay here. The world outside wouldn't be kind." His tone was serious, but he had a smile.
Wouldn't be kind? What does that mean? I turned to him with that confident smile on my face and my thumb pointed to my face. I said.
"Trust me, I'm built to handle that harshness."
I didn't know what he was talking about until I was outside.
There were people on the road; some were coming out of the cars. Screams and agony – I didn't know what was going on.
A throng of people was blocking my view as I squirmed my way through. I was greeted with a surreal sight.
Black wings were growing out of people's backs, with metallic horns. While some were wrapped in a bluish aura. It was an oddly familiar situation.
Hurriedly I walked back to the store, but it left me dumbfounded. The store was gone, disappeared into the nothingness.