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The writer took a look at the final version of his
book. He inspected the front cover, the back. He flipped through the pages,
noticing the heading of each chapter. The circumspect look on his face made the
owner of the printing company sink in his leathery chair.
“Anything wrong?”
The man took a look out the window and pulled the
collar of his coat up, tugging it against his neck. He stood like this for a
few minutes. The discomfort in the room was palpable.
“Have you ever written a book, Mr. Rourke?”
“No, sir. I only print them,” replied Mr. Rourke, a slight
trace of enthusiasm in his voice, in a feeble attempt to change the somber mood.
“But is there anything wrong?”
“It’s like a child. At some point, you must let it go.”
Mr. Rourke nodded gravely.
“So true.” It was getting late and Mr. Rourke still
had two appointments till he could close his day and go back to Mrs. Rourke’s scrumptious
dinner, the highlight of his day. He really didn’t have time for philosophical contemplations
of a writer at the end of his career. He stood up. “So… Should we wrap it up
and finalize the payment of the last installment?”
The writer took a step towards the window, opened it
and jumped out.
Mr. Rourke was so shocked that he stood motionless
looking at the open window, the curtains floating wildly. All he could think of
was that he would never see that last installment and that this mess would be a
never ending nightmare of police inquiries. Outside, people screamed and he
could already hear the sirens approaching.
He grabbed a copy of the book and opened it. Inside,
the inscription said “The End”.
Mr. Rourke found that a tad disturbing, considering
the circumstances. He continued to the index and that’s when he realized that
each chapter was a farewell letter to people the writer knew. One was even addressed
to him!
“If you are reading this with me standing by your side
that means you saved my life. You read this before our meeting and you talked
to me about my life. Thank you.”
Mr. Rourke sank heavily in his leathery chair and
started to weep.
Very clever - my kind of story!
ReplyDeleteNice work, lizzie.
Thank you, Seren! I appreciate your comment. I am discovering that the least I plan things, the better it is for the final story, particularly in short-fiction. This is quite fascinating, considering that I have always tought I needed to have some sort of end in sight, so I could craft my way through the story to achieve that end. We're always learning.
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