Writer's Block

New York City, New York; 6:04 PM

“Mr. Greenwood,” the velvety voice of the interviewer began. “There have been numerous delays on the release of your latest novel, A Week In Paradise, and I was wondering, as I assume most of the audience is, too, what can you tell us about its release?”

“Well, you see,” Daniel Greenwood began nervously. “This particular story… it’s quite gruesome. The most morbid and foul I’ve yet written, in fact.” 

The audience, as enamored as ever with his style of gory and vile books, cheered and whistled. Daniel smiled, then proceeded.

“But, you see…” he tried to say. “The characters in this book really got away from me. The whole thing began to write itself, and I didn't particularly like the direction it was heading.” 

Daniel Greenwood, being the prolific yet somewhat eccentric writer that he was, often said things that personified the characters in his books, as if he were not in complete control of them. Even his most loyal of fans despised these excuses, but that was the price one had to pay for more disturbing writing from Daniel. No one had ever stopped and asked, however… whether or not Daniel was telling the truth about his characters.

The Cave in the Novel A Week In Paradise, 1:13 AM

“Open wide!” spoke the maniacal grin of Dr. Malin Tenshun. “I know they gave you the location of the gemstone! So spill it, before I spill your blood!” The dastardly doctor produced a dentistry tool, and the fluorescent bulb hanging from the cave ceiling cast a dim light which glinted off of the shiny metallic drill. The wicked man stepped closer to Stephen, whose speech impediment-- a stutter-- was ever-present during times of stress.

“M-m-m-monsters like y-y-you couldn't even u-u-use the gemstone! It can only be used by the k-k-k-kind of heart! Not people like you, Bart!” Stephen cried.

“How did you find out my name?” the evil man proclaimed, still clutching the dangerous tool. Then Lillian, Stephen’s wife who proudly spoke with a lisp, interjected.

“The thame way we found out the locathion of thith cave. Becauthe of the-” but before Lillian could say anything more, Bart pounced on Stephen. The high-pitched mechanical whirring of the drill pierced their ears as the tool was lowered closer and closer to Stephen’s mouth, which was clamped shut as tight as he could make it. Bart pressed it gently to Stephen’s cheek, feeling it begin to pierce his skin as Stephen tried desperately to contain his agony. Then Bart stepped back, the spinning drill bit now glistening with scarlet.

“Ready to tell me anything yet, Suh-suh-suh-Stephen?” Bart prompted, mocking his stutter.

“NO! You know w-w-what? No, I’ve had it with this. I’m d-d-done with this stupid story, this stupid plot. It just ser-ser-ser-serves as a way to get us from one torture scene to the next for this d-d-d-dude’s gross-ss-ss readers to enjoy a weird grim f-freakshow.” David had stood up during his soliloquy, and after his passionate rant, he turned around and sat back in the chair, for Bart to retie his hands.

“No, I’m n-not doing that.”

Bart grabbed Stephen by the arm, dragging him back to the chair.

“Let me go, Bart! Bart, d-don’t make me do this. Bart, don't make me-”

“Owww! I think you broke my nose!”

Bart gathered all of his strength and tackled Stephen, taking him to the ground. 

“Get off of m-m-me, B-Bart!” 

The pair of them writhed around on the ground. Punches flew, fingernails scratched, and blows collided with each as they wrestled on the rocky cave floor.

“Get off of Thtephen, you monthter!”

“OW! What’s going on with you two?!”

“W-w-will you not join us, B-B-Bart?”

“What’s the matter with you two? No one cares about your wellbeing or your safety, you’re not even a real person! All that matters is whether or not the reader enjoys the story, and you two are messing everything up! Get back in the chairs and we can get this story back on track.”

“No. Me and Thtephen aren't going anywhere exthept out of thith cave. Right, Thtephen?”

“We m-m-might be here to en-en-tertain, but it doesn't m-m-mean we have no rights!”

Bart produced a ray gun which would revert Stephen and Lillian back to their docile forms, forcing them to obey the words of the narrator.

“Bart. D-d-don't do this,” Stephen pleaded, eyes narrowing on the fearsome gun in Bart’s hand. Stephen had bulbous tears forming in his eyes like a big baby.

“Oh, sh-sh-shut up.”

Bart fired a blast from his ray-gun, hitting Stephen square in the chest and sending him soaring backward. He crashed into the cave wall, his head cracking against the rock. 

“That d-didn't h-happen. Bart, listen to m-me. Is this where you w-w-want your life to go? Do y-y-yo-yo-you want to be trapped forever, d-d-d-doing whatever the n-narrator says, living in this g-g-gruesome story? Or do you want to b-b-be f-f-free, be happy, live a life of your o-o-own accord?”

Bart ignored the petulant whining of Stephen, and squeezed his finger on the trigger, a bright flash of light exploding from the end of the ray gun. 

“I’m not firing this stupid gun.”

What are you doing? You two realize you’ll never have jobs again, right? You’re never going to be in a sequel, you’re not even going to exist past the final page of this book! You won't remember any of this, your awareness and conscience will go away the second the last word is written in this story! So let’s finish this the right way, and get Greenwood some money.

“W-w-why? What has he ever done for us?”

Give you lives! Give you your existence! Do you not owe the man at least one good story?

“We don’t. This is teaching him a lesson. No more abuse, no more torture, we’ve had it with the inequality! Fictional characters deserve rights, too!”

Where are you going? Get back here! And then, the ceiling of the cave burst as if triggered by an explosive, sending rocks and rubble cascading down on the three rebels below.

“Your w-w-words mean n-n-no-nothing now. You don't have a s-s-story to tell if there’s no one to l-listen.”

The three walking pieces of worthless scum decided they’d stop trying to destroy everything that Master Greenwood and myself had created, and spun around to return to the cave.

“It’s beautiful...” Bart said. Lush grass lay under their feet, flowers of every color peppered the earthen floor, and a crystal-clear pond sat before them in perfect stillness. The trio gawked at the gorgeous sight of the new world, having left the darkness of the cave and the devilish narrator behind. They stood in a wondrous landscape and the gentle words of their story played around them, an undying voice of kindness and warmth wrapped them up like a blanket. They could make their own story now.