Second Draft

“Jake? Is that you Jake?” The weathered bartender of Kill Your Darlings, said through squinted eyes as he welcomed who he thought was his regular Jake Mathist, into the bar. 

“Onix. Onix Rock Harden, now my friend.”

“I’ll get you a tall one. Maybe two,”

“Sounds great,” Onix said, because it was the only thing to say. Onix didn’t know if he would like the coming stout beer. Once Jake, Onix, came in to have a draft of his favorite light beer only to unearth a new gluten intolerance. “Who writes allergies into a character?” Onix asked, not daring to look into his gold pouch. Did he have the coin for the drinks? Maybe, but Onix would accept them all the same. This was a treat to himself. After a long day on the cutting room floor this place was his tradition and escape. 

“Onix, are you doing okay today?” Delilah, the prodigy witch with perfectly blonde hair and barbie like proportions, said to her friend. 

“Late night at Kill Your Darlings,” Onix answered. 

“I told you to stop drinking so much.”

“I agree.”

“Really?” Delilah asked with a furrowed brow. 

“Of course, I’m gluten intolerant and broke.”

“How? The Rinseworth dragon bounty was a small fortune?”

“Ah yes, my rousing success with the dragon. I picked up the Jankro’s sword from our fallen team member, then weaved and bobbed through jaws and fire to deliver the penultimate strike. It really was something. Unfortunately, our beloved creator rewrote glorious moment around two in the morning. I haven’t checked the rewrites completely, but I was mucking out stables in Rinseworth as collateral in case we didn’t return from the bounty.”

“Ouch… That really bites,” Delilah quickly turned back to the road, unable to offer much more than that half hearted condolence. 

She’s trying to be understanding, but Delilah knows where she’s going. Despite her humble beginnings, she was always going to come out on top. The surprise heroine whom everyone thought was a sidekick. This is her story. Her book. 

“Calm down everyone… Settle… Settle. I know the past few chapters have been a little slow, but that doesn’t mean we can slack. What do I always say?”

“Meat and dessert make for a tasty but unsatisfying meal,” the group parroted back to a speaker who had clambered onto a rock in front of the assembled cast.

“Exactly. Today isn’t a dungeon, but it is what will make our next payoff even better. Today is veggies and I only have a few notes here. Jake.. Jake… Did he oversleep again?”

“Right here, Voice,” Onix said to the director. “Vision changed the name. It’s Onix now, I’m sure they sent you-”

“-AH yes… I see that now. Onix Rock Harden,” Chuckles fill the air as Onix and Voice cringe. “Oh… sorry about… People say that typewriters are old-fashioned, but at least they didn’t have find and replace. Well, let’s get onto today’s scene.” Voice moved on. Onix forced a smile, knowing this could only last so long. 

Onix’s name didn’t change that week. His occupation did twice. For a short-lived moment, Vision bumped Onix from sidekick to a secondary protagonist. That lasted ten minutes before the story morphed and Onix went from poor to dirt poor. Onix lost all his coin in a game of cards. That was the right direction for the story. 

“Onix, why don’t you clean this for me,” Perry said, throwing his armor at Onix’s feet after their final day on set.  

“Why don’t you do it yourself?” Onix said. “Or are you too busy?”

“Believe it or not, I am. Just because I turn on Delilah doesn’t mean an off page romance can’t flourish.”

With clenched fists, a red face and swollen cheeks, Onix stood and marched over to the smug traitor prince and slugged him as the perfect outlet for his anger and frustration. Or at least that’s what Onix did in his mental fantasy.

“Come on, Rock Harden was it? I have better things to do. You don’t.”

Perry’s posy laughed. 

“Perry, we all get paid.”

“Yes, but you could use some extra coin,” Perry said as the sun reflected off his perfectly polished smile. 

“We are off the clock. Shine your own armor.”

“I’d rather not,” Perry said before leaning closer. “And I’d appreciate it if the background characters knew their place. Just because you think you are the star doesn’t mean you are. I know Voice, I know Narrator, and most importantly I have met Vision. It may not be easy, but we all know this project will be at least what, three, maybe four books? Mess with me and I’ll make sure you have a fate worse than death.”

In school, they tell you to stand up to bullies. Hollywood sells you tall tales to stand your ground or get help. They say bullies are insecure and pick on the weak because they feel threatened. Realistically, you pick up the dirty armor and start polishing, because the last thing you want is to be cut entirely. 

“Onix?” the weathered barkeep asked as Onix entered the establishment late.

“Today? Yes… How are you doing Otis?”

“Making a living,” Otis said as he polished a glass. “But maybe I should ask you that question. Or maybe how are you making a living if you are here?”

It was a fair question. The bar was mostly empty at three p.m. on a Tuesday. 

“First, I actually won some of my wage back, so I have my tab, and the project is going well. We have a few days off so I figured I’d come in.”

“Ahh… So you were polishing that armor for two days, slept in, and came here because you had nothing better to do,” Otis said as he slid over a glass of water. 

Onix fell. “Three days, but if you already know, why did you ask?”

Otis shrugged. “Thought you could use the chat.”

“Thanks.”

The water cooled Onix’s parched throat, chilling his entire body like a brisk fall breeze. The refreshing drink was exactly what Onix needed and as his body fell in despair. 

How far have I fallen? When I was younger, I had a dream. I was going to be the protagonist. Maybe a knight who saves the damsel. Maybe an outlaw cowboy who steals from the corrupt politicians. Now… I’m a comedic relief character holding on for dear life. Doing grunt work to eek out a living and make the cut. 

“You know you could quit,” Otis whispered in Onix’s ear. 

“What?!?” Onix dropped the thick glass mug and it bounced on the bar, spilling instead of shattering. 

“This newest project you have been a court jester, a noble man twice, a princess once, a pirate, outlaw, ferret, wizard’s assistant, page, poor page, rich page, and now dirt poor page?”

“Sounds about right, but I am a sidekick,” Onix said after mentally checking Otis’s list. “It’s supposed to be a trilogy and we have all seen the ending of book one, I make it. If I can just pull through, maybe we can sow some seeds in book two for a branching storyline. Maybe even a quest of my own, that will be realized in book three.”

Despair and delusion were as much Otis’s business as restocking and taxes, right now Onix was stretching the realms of hope beyond what Otis could take. Otis grabbed a bottle of brandy and took a shot. 

“You really think you are going to get your own quest?” 

Onix folded. “No.”

“Exactly. Look, I know it’s not the easiest thing in the world, but even though Vision Board is a sparse little town, there are plenty of jobs to do. Get a job in town, become a filler character. You won’t earn as much, but you can make a life for yourself. Risk is minimal and Narrative and Voice mostly ignore you.”

The run down bar was a solid structure. The old oak bar was sturdy and the shelves well stocked. If he became an extra Onix could probably get in on some of the short stories, maybe the western series they are working on. Onix wouldn’t be rich, but Otis was right, it would be a life. No more days spent away on adventures, only to be written into mucking stables. No more career changes on a whim. No more polishing Perry’s armor. 

“I… I… Just can’t,” Onix said. “I don’t love all the job and name changes. The memories of my past glories are exhausting, but while I don’t have the biggest role Otis, I have one.”

Onix left out the real reason. No matter what a life in town offered, it wasn’t his dream. Even if he spent his the rest of his days fighting dragons only to be rewritten cleaning latrines, Onix would take that existence, the chance for glory was better than just being a baker or something else in a small town. 

Otis gave Onix an appraising glare. Walking around the bar to take Onix in once before returning to his spot and grabbing a shot glass and pouring Onix some brandy. 

“You got spunk at least,” Otis huffed as he poured and took another shot. “And you didn’t hear this from me, but the little break you’re on isn’t a vacation, but a block. Apparently Voice and Narrative are in the dog house. Vision seems to think the story is getting a little dark.”

“Sir Perry, are you sure that this is the way we need to go?” Delilah asked from her mount. 

“Delilah, I would not steer you wrong. Mr. Harden, do you think it will be hard to scale those rocky cliffs?”

“Sir, I sure hope not. I know we have run the horses rough.”

“Worry not about that. I will take care of us,” Perry answered dismissively. 

The sun was high, the trail barren, the dialogue was slow and meandering. After two weeks off, Onix wasn’t surprised. Otis had been right. This was a block and now they were plodding through with pacing that would get their creator’s grandmother to put the book down. 

This was their job. Narrator was spinning some background nonsense meant to move along the plot and the red herring romance between Perry and Delilah. Boredom engulfed the party waiting for their next lines as the exposition dragged.

“That’s going to be lunch, everyone. Take fifteen, then we will be back at it. Onix, can you come here real quick and help me with the horses?”

It had been a terrible morning. There was no way around it, but disembarking his horse, Onix skipped to Voice, whose thinning hair and dark eyes told the story of a man in distress. 

“You doing okay?” Onix asked. “Not the most stimulating dialogue, but we all need our veggies,” Onix offered as he helped water the horses. 

“Yeah… Yeah… I wish I could say I agree, but…” Voice trailed off. Shaking, bouncing, Voice’s eyes ricocheted in their sockets as he teemed to get something off of his chest. 

“What is -” 

“-Can I level with you?” Voice interrupted. “Life has been hell. Narrator and I have been up for days trying to make Vision’s, well… vision come to life. But nothing is good enough. The tone is wrong. It’s too heavy, too serious. But then we try to add in some jokes and all Vision says is “you must be blind.” I mean, it is Vision’s job to give us direction and Outline who is as stubborn as ever. Mr. I gave you guide posts. I’m Outline, it’s not my job to write the story, before going back to that stupid cup of earl gray. I mean, I get it. New projects need an outline, but what about this one? The one in production? How can he be so inflexible when he writes in pencil?”

It took a minute of rambling before Voice made his point.

“Look, do you have any ideas?” Voice finally asked. “I know it isn’t your job, but Narrator and I are at a wall. The editors are breathing down our neck, and we need something to break and give us some life. I know you haven’t been in this whole comic relief role for long, but do you have any ideas?”

Onix looked at Voice thoughtfully. The chaotic mess who somehow tamed the demands of Outline and Vision to create a consistent, complete story looked ragged, lost, and without hope. 

“I have an idea. I need you to write in a hedgehog, some mud, and a spooked horse.”

“Should we really keep riding, Sir Perry? It looks like a storm is coming,” Delilah said as her eyes took in the foreboding sky. 

“There is no better time. The path may be a little wet, but it is the best way for us to lose our tail. We will ride and then the storm will wash away the trails.”

Without his helmet, Perry’s smile somehow still blazed in the overcast sky. His smile hiding the evil sneer as he rode Delilah into his waiting trap. 

“If you… Oh no, what is that?”

A small hedgehog slowly ambled across the path. A trap of spikes and spines that could cripple even the sturdiest steed. 

“It is but a hedgehog, Delilah. Dangerous, yes, but if Onix will just bring me my bow, I can take care of it and we can continue. Boy.”

Onix rode up next to Perry to hand him the bow, but as he did, Perry’s trusty steed reared back with a loud growl and neigh. Did the hedgehog, who had taken an aggressive posture, spook the horse? Could it have been a flash from the arrow or something more dangerous waiting in the wings? Or was it the discrete slap on the hindquarter’s and Voice’s help? No one would know, but everyone would remember what happened next. 

Silver Wind bucked, shooting forward before pulling up short to avoid the hog’s sharp spines. Sir Perry, whose hands were full of a bow, was thrown cleanly from Silver Wind’s saddle.

Perry arced through the air. The most beautiful silver cannonball, he gleamed in the midday sun that poked out from the clouds for this glorious moment. Time froze. Onix grinned as Perry acknowledged the fact that there was no way to reorient his path away from the mud. Perry splattered gracefully, the hog ran, and Perry came up with a face full of mud. 

“Is… Is…. This horse shit…” Perry spat out a mouthful of muck. Delilah, Voice, and Narrator broke into roaring laughter as a weight faded from the tense group. 

It took River Pebble Stone three days to shine Perry’s armor. And while the story had been changed in that time to River being the fateful one who got the face full of mud, falling off her horse as they ran from raiders who discovered their party, allowing Perry to save all of them and set the trap of his future betrayal deeper. It didn’t matter. 

River knew what happened. So did Perry, Voice, and Delilah. The Mudpie incident had cleared the block and chapters had been flowing since. River was on better terms with Narrator and Voice and even though Perry was a self righteous, double crossing, swindler, a-hole, he was still a knight. He couldn’t retaliate. Perry’s chivalrous nature didn’t let him hurt the princess’s hand maiden. 

River Pebble Brooke was as safe as she could be. And if nothing else, maybe she had a future in production if this whole sidekick thing didn’t pan out.