The Type Writer's Dillema

Content warning: This story contains violence, traumatic references, and mental-health themes

As I sit on the ground, surrounded by falling fire, ash, and thundering skies, I realize that I have a problem that I can fix. The events surrounding the biggest disaster of 2025 in Montivillaton were a little garbled in my mind because of all the hospital visits, but I knew it had to do with that damned type-writer.

This all started three weeks ago. What do orange juice, computers, and a struggling author have in common? My mother. She was always busy and never had time to do anything for herself. She could really use a, ‘How to Say No,’ course at our local library at 5:00 PM on Saturday evening.

“Danilina Gonzalez- Mendez, you need to get this right now!” My mother has always been a very intense person and it has never stopped throughout my entire 31 years of life. The only computer she had was mine and she needed to order something online. Luckily, I was on my way to work-with my computer in tow-when she called, “Yeah, I can stop by. I just turned my car on and can be there in a half hour.”

Ye Olde Gifts and Trinkets is about a 3 minute drive from mom and pop’s house. Micha, the owner of the antique shop I work at, notices the wetness of my blouse as I walk in grumbling to myself. Her smile marks grace her face and her tightly curled white hair adorned her darkly tanned skin and golden brown eyes. “Morning, Dani! Hey, uh, are you okay?” Scoffing out loud, I answer, “Yeah, just fine. Do you mind if I hit the bathroom first?” She nods her head and ushers me with her hand gestures. In the mirror, I see my wavy brown hair half up with the purple peaking out at the bottom. My tan skin complements my reddish brown almond-shaped eyes. When I come back out, I explain that my only laptop that has ALL of my story entries, is currently in a war with Count O. Juice.

For about half an hour, I went on and on about my computer and this upcoming creative writing contest that I wrote a few short story entries for. Those stories were only on my computer. For a struggling author to lose all that work? It was devastating. Micha is a kind, older lady. After I was all done complaining, she replied, “I know it isn’t the same, but I have a type-writer in the back that has been collecting dust since 1971. It’s not an electric writer, it’s old school. Dated back at least twenty years prior to getting it in ‘71. I’m sure there is some ink ribbon and anything else you may need close by. Take it. Honestly, you’d be doing me a favor.”

Despite the lingering question of how to submit my pieces, I accept it graciously. When it’s time to close at 4:30 PM, I make my way to the back of the store to acquire my prize. While walking closer to the contraption, I heard a magical celesta sound. The bells stop when I stand in front of the type-writer and I begin to stare at it. It was covered in about ten layers of dust, but I noticed that it was sage green. If I am being honest, it’s a calming color. I feel an overwhelming sense of peace. Strange but I dust it off and pack it up.

When I get home, it’s just about 5:24 PM and I unpack my chinese food. Sesame seed chicken with rice platters are my go-to order. My son, Little Man, the Corgi-Chihuahua, loves when I ‘accidentally’ drop my fortune cookies, so I always grab some extra up for him. Inside the first fortune, it said something about my future changing. The second cookie said a phrase along the lines of, ‘You’re writing and your writing will come to life’ and I was a little freaked out, but the third cookie was the most peculiar. I read the paper inside the flaky biscuit, outloud, “Opening the ribbon will change everything forever.” When all the food is consumed, I wash up my chopsticks, and throw away my take- out containers. My face and hands aren’t too dirty but I wash up and brush my teeth, anyway.

All the cleaning is completed, and now, it’s time to get the type-writer out of its box. Magical celestial bells once again sing a song in my ears. This time I feel wind whipping behind me. The sage green machine is pretty easy to set up. After a little bit of baby oil on some of the keys-most of them were actually quite relaxed-I had a brand new machine.

The paper guide and bail is fairly easy to locate, so I begin to insert the paper. I had to straighten the paper about thirty times before it was perfect. What is the reason why I am so nervous about using something many people have used before? Setting margins is annoying because you have to set the left and right margins and then test the margins. Plus testing the line spacing just took a lot out of me… a lot of paper was wasted in my pre-writing process. The new ribbon was in a musty, dusty box and when I opened the box, ethereal drumming started in my mind. Quickly, I close the box and just as fast the drums stop. Weird things continue to happen to me today.

When I was about to put the entire set up away, the box began to glow: white and yellow streaks bursting from all sides. The box starts floating in the air and at this point, I’m out of my chair and screaming. Is this actually happening right now? The ribbon makes its way out of the box and flows easily into the type-writer. A whisper ricochets against the dancing, whipping wind, “Sit down, write,” it demands. My jiggling belly bounces up and down as I am running away from the chair but all at once, I realize something: I am an author. Albeit, a struggling author but an author nonetheless. Behind a type-writer is where I belong, so I sit down and begin my work.

An all-nighter is about to commence. I power through my first short story about a police officer in a filthy uniform that turned out to be the criminal all along despite all the evidence against the initial suspect. Iced coffee is my best friend on nights like these. After the first iced double-mocha latte-which is basically chocolate milk with ice and a shot of espresso-I got my second energy boost and sprinted through the second and third short story. The second story was about a scientist who invents the first invisibility cloak and was promptly chased after by an undercover government society. The third was a historical romantic tragedy that highlights a knight falling in love with a shape-shifting dragon warrior in the opposing kingdom.

When my first alarm to wake up for work rings and vibrates like a gyrating fish out of water at 6:15 AM, I promptly call out of work. The steam is practically billowing out of the machine by 8:00 AM when I finish the last of my third short story. One more iced mocha latte down and I have enough energy to edit. Every carefully crafted word reads eloquently off the pages. By the time all the editing is complete, It’s 1:00 PM and I am starving. After ordering a pizza, I doze off soundly on my cozy couch. When I wake up, it’s 3:09 PM, and the aroma of delicious peppers, addictive onions, and crushed garlic waft past my nose. My best friend let herself in the house and ate some of my pizza.

Valentina, a tall, fiery redhead with curls that no one could compete with, came in while I was at work every day to walk Little Man for me. When she saw me on the couch, she decided to let him out in the back yard and woke me up. “Val, that was supposed to last me all night,” I playfully protested. She replies, “What? It was just one slice! Okay, maybe three… Get over it!” She waves my favorite carbonated beverage in a jovial way and I squealed, “Yay, all is forgiven!” As we giggle over the soda-pop and pizza, she asks me why I stayed home today. Describing what happened to me yesterday and, specifically, last night, she mystifyingly answers, “Dani, you’re crazy and your imagination is unlimited! To each their own, I guess.” She scoffs but seems a little concerned for me.

“Hey LiLi, ummm, how are you doing? Mentally? It’s been almost a year since the whole… situation.” Of course she’s going to bring up Jack. Jack turned out to be a cheating bastard who coincidentally died the same night I was going to confront him eleven months ago. The truth is, I was going to forgive him if he confessed his offense. But his lover was driving his vehicle while she was drunk. What a piss-poor decision because when she slammed into the wall of the local fast food restaurant, she didn’t feel a thing. Jack, however, felt everything. He was impaled by rebar; he was dead on scene.

“Honestly, TiTi? I’ve been better. I don’t think I could do any of this without you. Thank you for always being by my side no matter what.” As I break down, she strokes my back and asks me about my writings. I told her about the Police Officer, the Scientist, and the Knight. She loved every idea and encouraged me to enter this contest immediately! After a few hours of girl time, Valentina finally went back home to her loving husband, Klaus. As I always do, I wished her happiness and love forever and ever. She told me that she’d send the short stories out for me and she loves me forever plus a day.

Finally, I fell asleep and it was exactly what I needed. When I woke up the next day, I was well rested and ready to face the day. Micha told me how much my presence was missed. Half way through the day, I noticed a dirty police officer skulking outside the window. I don’t know why but I told Micha I was going on break then I talked to him. “Afternoon, officer. How’s it going?” Eyes darting back and forth, he says, “Just observing the area. You guys have many expensive items in the store. Nothing big.” He’s not wrong, some of these items date back to the 1800’s and are priced in the thousands. I decided to take his words at face value.

The next morning, there is a heavy police presence around the antique shop. I couldn’t get into work, so I had to call Micha. She didn’t answer which made me worry. She was older, clumsy, and prone to not answering her cell phone. When I remember that, I rapidly dial her home number-which was the antique store number because she lived in the apartment above the shop since her husband died last spring. There was no answer and I grew more and more anxious. A panicked, alert aura suddenly envelopes its way around me.

This couldn’t have happened… I ran as fast as my feet allowed me. I paved the way through the back of the store where only one officer was placed. Nimbly, I grab the keys to the store and unlock the door before the police officer even notices me. As I cautiously continued throughout the store, I finally made it to the front of the store where the giant windows showed me a horrifying scene. Micha, on the ground, broken, bludgeoned, and bloody. Suddenly, I remembered my short story entry and I passed out in the store.

When I woke up in the hospital, I gasped and blurted out, “The Police Officer!” Nurses burst into the room after Valentina yells, “Oh my gosh! She’s awake!!!” After that, everything went by quickly. I was discharged, I went home, and it was a week later-one week until Jack’s murder trial. Valentina didn’t leave my side. She said something about trauma after trauma and not letting me out of her sight to Klaus.

Every day has been flying by in a fog. It’s been about a week since Micha’s murder. Hugging TiTi in a tight embrace, I say, “Klaus misses you, thank you for everything you’ve done. I love you. You’re my favorite person. Now, go home!” She asks me, “Are you kicking me out, Danilina Gonzalez- Mendez?” When I nod my head, she hugs me back and basically demands that I call her by 8:00 PM tonight or she’s coming back.

About an hour after she leaves, I hear a frantic knocking at the door. The stranger at the door anxiously says, “Hurry! Please, hurry!” Confused, I open the door and she comes in at the speed of light, demanding, “Shut the door! They’re too close! Quickly!” Immediately, I listen and she moves my couch to reveal a hidden compartment behind the comfortable sofa. “Since when has that…” The crazed woman shushes me and rushes me into the room, “This room has been here since the beginning. They’re after me…” The closer I look at her, the more I realize that she’s very dirty as if she’s been running for days. Her body odor could rival Jack after hockey practice. Abruptly, I yell, “You’re the…” she claps her hands over my mouth, shushes me, and begs, “Please, don’t say it. They’ll hear you.” I can’t help myself, I exclaim, “You’re the Scientist!”

POW!

The Scientist punches me in the temple and I pass out. When I woke up in the hospital again, six days had passed. Determined to get out of there, Valentina slows me down and says, “You haven’t woken up for six days, the hospital staff won’t let you leave.” However, I stand up regardless and fight back, “Then I’ll leave AMA. I don’t want to spend a single second here longer than I have to. I’m a struggling author out of a job because my boss was brutally murdered by a police officer. I can’t afford this!” She drops her head and stares at me with a curmudgeon look, “Danilina, please, listen to what I said, you’ve been knocked out for almost a week. Stay here.”

Obviously I didn’t listen to her or those doctors. As I leave the hospital, I grab a newspaper and read it to catch up on what has happened for the past week. The Police Officer was being put away instead of the first suspect and the Scientist is still on the run from the OPS. What was left? What else did I write about? Oh no… the Knight… the war. This is going to get bad. How long did Val say it’s been? Six days? Whatever is about to happen, it’s going to happen tomorrow; the day of Jack’s trial.

When I wake up in the morning in Valentina’s guest room, I am frightened. How is this whole scenario going to play out? As I dress for the trial, Val comes in to check on me. “How are you feeling, babe?” Honestly, it’s been a year since Jack died, it’s the day of the trial, something horrible with a knight and a warrior is about to transpire… “I’m feeling great,” I say with a sarcastic smile. She is utterly concerned but says nothing. We traveled to the court about a half hour from her house. Mom and dad met us there, Jack’s parents met us there. That’s when the police van pulls up and we see her. Valentina promptly grabs my hand to hold me in place. Vengeance was at the forefront of my mind. I was murderous over his completely preventable murder. Alas, I couldn’t do any of that.

Then I remember the past couple weeks. The Police Officer. The Scientist. I knew what was about to happen. The Knight and his shape-shifting Dragon Warrior was about to come. In my muddled mind, I imagine horrible things happening to this woman. What happens instead is in the middle of his trial, a war cry is heard. The dragons swoop into the courthouse and destroy countless trials. Fire and ash fall from the sky as we stand helplessly on the sidewalk. The knights from the opposing kingdom swarm the dragons, killing them off one by one. Many men have fallen. Finally, it’s down to two knights and one dragon.

The Knight that loves the Dragon Warrior puts his sword and large weapons down. Confessing his love to her in front of the other knight, he says, “I’ve loved no one before you...” She morphs back into a human and hugs the Knight as he continues, “...and I’ll love no one after you.” With that, he runs a jagged dagger into her stomach and pulls straight up. The Knight knows what he has done for his kingdom but has lost the love of his life. As the other knight was celebrating, the Knight drew the same dagger across his entire throat in one fell swoop. As he fell to his knees, he garbled out, “For… the King… I’d… do anything… For her… I’ll… die.”

My heart and soul knew this was that damned machine’s fault but then I had an even crazier idea than the last three short stories: What if I wrote myself the best ending of all time? As I rush home to the type-writer, I fall and hit my head on the cold, hard concrete. When I wake up dazed and confused, Dr. Valentine is standing above me and says, “Dani, you need to remember to take your medicine.”