Writing Prompt #9


Im just gonna get the ball rolling, because this one feels pretty long…

She threw the book across the room, not caring how it landed with a thud against the wall. Not caring how the paperback cover seemed dented or how the fanned out pages crinkled.

She kept the momentum going, leaning into her pillow and letting out a wail that pierced through the fabric. She knew no one would knock on her door, as she slammed her back into the mattress and allowed the tears to roll down her cheeks. She felt all the pain and torment of losing a friend, without ever being able to grieve properly.

She sniffed as she thought of what a good person he was. How she’d miss his crooked smile, his disheveled blonde hair, and his vibrant green eyes. She’d miss how he’d thrown his sarcastic quips with that underlying serious tone, his expressions of care at the last possible moment, and how he’d ultimately sacrifice himself for the person he cared for.

For her.

No, that wasn’t right. But yet, wasn’t it? It felt right. He felt so real to her. She shook her head, wiping her wet face.

Everyone would think she was just a silly girl, reading a silly book, getting upset over silly nothingness. And she was.

She laughed at the absurdity of crying over yet another dead fictional character. He was only a figment of her imagination. Some ink splattered on a page.

“I am blaming you for my fragile state of mind!” She declared over the phone, to her long time friend and fellow bookworm. She hadn’t even given the poor girl any warning, as she answered the call.

“I know, I know.” The voice on the other side held feigned sympathy. “It was a pretty gruesome ending, but that’s just life.”

She balanced a stack of worn novels in her arms while placing the phone between her ear and shoulder as she walked towards the library. Her friend dove into great lengths to justify why her poor favorite character’s death was a necessary thing. She held her disagreement on the tip of her tongue, not caring too much for the flavor of it.

As she walked and her so-called friend prattled on, she noticed a towering figure crossing the street, heading in her direction. His blonde straight hair was a strategic mess, his green eyes glinting in the sun. Her eyes widened as she watched him, the perfect resemblance of the recently read deceased.

“It can’t be.” She mumbled, ignoring the response on the other end. Her grip loosened on the pile in her hands, the books wavering until they began their descent.

“I gotta go.” She blurted, her hallucination interrupted, as she shoved her phone in her pocket.

She stooped down to gather her things, before two sneaker-covered feet were in front of her.

“Let me help you with those.” A deep voice rumbled, as it’s owner knelt down and began to scoop up the hardbacks.

He extended them out to her. “Thank you so,” The rest of the words stuck to her throat, as she met his friendly gaze. She hadn’t dreamed him up after all.

“If you’re heading to the library, can I join you? I’m new in town.” She nodded her head, and they stepped together in unison. “I’m Liam, by the way.” He announced as they stood together. It’s a common name, she thought.

“Cate” She offered. She tried to resist, but she couldn’t help it. The curiosity was eating her alive. “So, where are you from?” She kept her gaze forward.

“Alhandria” She scoffed, looking around, figuring this must be some practical joke. When she turned to him, he seemed confused.

“You’re joking right?” He was good at keeping a straight face, she’d give him that. “Like, the book?”

“What book?” She jutted her chin to the novel titled with the same exact name he’d just said. He grabbed it, hesitantly, reading the summary.

His eyes then quickly skimmed through the pages, flipping through the story in fast forward.

“How can this be?” His jaw went slack as he reached the end. “That’s me. All of it.” He slammed the cover shut, scratching his head with a free hand. “I died?”

Cate didn’t quite know what to do. A part of her felt hesitant to believe he was serious. But then he looked exactly as she had pictured him, sounded like him too…

“I’m just messing with you.” He chuckled, placing the book back in her arms. She felt a sense of disappointment, despite the fact that she knew it all along. She giggled awkwardly with him. “I already knew I died.”

She paused, before resuming laughing, but this time he didn’t join in. “Can you keep a secret?” She figured sure, why not, before appeasing him.

“Oh, great!” He beamed and relaxed, as if a chip had been taken off his shoulders. “I can’t wait for you to meet the others!”

***Writing Prompt: When fictional characters die, they become real.

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