Ups and downs are a normal thing in life. What about when there are only downs? When there is no hope that things will get better? Some people feel scared, but remain determined. Others feel like being defeated. Like giving up. Like dying.
Morgan Berry, a white-skinned-lanky-guy, leant against the table with his pointy elbows. Navy boxer shorts, with stripes as red as his messy hair were the only outfit, and he was looking at the computer screen absentmindedly. One of his long fingers was tapping on his pointy chin—covered in a two-year-old beard.
Anyone else? Yes! The full moon—his one and only friend in life. It was staring at him through a thin window on the right side of that corner he liked to sit in.
After a couple of minutes still in the same position, he jumped in the air exclaiming, "I got it! I got it!" His white bare foot kicked one of the junk food tins scattered all over the metal floor as he made his way to a room nearby.
"Mom," he whispered to a woman who looked more scarier than him. The same features. The same bizarre aura.
Upon getting no response, he called again. That's when something strange struck him. His mom who would never close her eyes... No! How is it possible? "Mom?" He shook her, but the woman seemed to have had an eternal sleep several hours ago. His hand touched her face, and her skin felt icy.
"Nooo!" He screamed as his protruding ribs hugged the woman. When the world abandoned him, his mom never left his side. That was before she became like him. The disease that had invaded his good looks ten years ago when he was eight had took his mother's life. But something was odd. He was the one who got infected first. Why die last?
Doctors could not describe it. One of them once suggested it might have something to do with him being a vegetarian. He had a stronger immune system than his mom because God knows how much pork she ate.
"Mom...*sob* this is not the right time to go... my new book is doing pretty good compared to previous ones...views, collections and... and..." He burst out crying. "Mom, didn't I tell you that I had applied for a contract again?
"Of course I'm waiting for an answer... but a good one this time... I mean, I mean judging by how people are liking it. I wanted to tell you that I had just got a brilliant idea about how to continue the book. I've overcome my writer's block... mom?
"How could you leave when things were about to get better? I wanted to take you out of this intermodal container...*sob* out of this forest. Mom?"
Ding!
The sound of incoming notification made his heart almost jump out of him. Thankfully, it only made him pant and sweat.
After opening the email, he couldn't believe his eyes. He blinked and looked at the screen again.
'We are looking for books with engaging pace, exciting plot twists, fascinating cliffhangers, interesting characters and meaningful core struggles. Please revise your work before applying for a contract again.'
Though he had received the same message for his 15 previous books, he kept rereading it just to be sure he was not imagining things.
Only his dried out lips could form was a 'no' as tears trickled down his skeleton face.
Stiffening like a robot whose battery says low, his grasp on the phone loosened and it fell down flat on its screen, shattering into pieces. His knees bent, and the next second, his back was leaning against the bed, his head on his arms which were resting on his knee cups.
Hours later, after setting his mother's body on fire outside the container, he climbed onto the bed and lay on his back.
A swirl of questions invaded his mind. How long was he going to survive? Only one bowl of cereal lay beside his computer. He could sell his phone and computer. But where? The journey to town would take him weeks. The cereal would last him days.
'God, am I this sinful? Even if I were an employer, I would never hire a person like me. A good worker must be handsome, wise or at least energetic. I'm ugly, without any skill and a pebble. Why can't you at least bless my writing talent?'
Minutes later, something unusual happened to him.
He couldn't tell if he was awake or dreaming because it happened suddenly and without forewarning. His chest tightened and he felt as if he was jolted by electricity. A sensation that started in his chest and spread to his abdomen. It was so strong that at first he thought he was fiercely hugged. But he opened his eyes and saw nothing. He then decided to close them and relax.
The next thing he experienced was a gentle touch on both his legs which slid upwards. Not just a breeze but a real touch. He could feel fingers below his boxers. His legs parted and he felt as if they were floating on air. Following was the most intense sexual feeling that he ever had. It was like a pulse vibrating through his own body. So strong that he actually moaned in ecstasy and it did not stop.
The feeling of hands over his chest. The erotic spasms, and a pressure on his legs that felt as if someone was sitting on them. At the height of his pleasure, he actually saw a very hazy shape over him. Although he could not see a distinct form, he could tell it was female in nature judging by the sweet scent.
That day, she disappeared after they were done. Was it a dream? He couldn't understand. Next day, except for horns and wings, any other thing was a silhouette of a beautiful woman. Big boobies and ass. Too pretty to be real.
After a week, Morgan confirmed it was real. It wasn't a dream. It was a new chapter of his life story. He became addicted to it, and he would not get peace of mind before she would come. After riding him, she would lie beside him and then they would chat.
"I like your stories!" She once said in her siren voice, a seductive smile plastered all over her pale face.
He remembered all the rejected books in his Evernote and replied, "People don't!" Following was his depressed sigh.
"Yeah! They are not like your mom. Even the saints have some behind the scenes. Readers want a relatable character. A hero with some shades of darkness. R18 is quite popular. Have you tried? No! You write like a judge. When have you seen a villain who always chooses what's right and just?"
Morgan gave it a thought and found it to be true. There was a problem with his stories, not with the editors. Despite being a demon, his wife was wise and supportive. This succubus had changed his life from a nightmare into sweet dreams.
A beautiful nightmare.
How long was it going to last?
"Lilyard, will you ever leave me?" Asked Morgan.
"No! I can't leave you," She replied as she fetched something from her F cup bra. "But I might kill you! I mean, I'm a demon, remember?"
The smile that had surfaced on his face vanished upon hearing those words, but it came back when she added, "Take these!"
'Three bullet-like crystals?' Morgan asked himself as he looked at them confused.
"Those will help you the day my hunger for souls will take control of me. You need a gun soon." Her soft lips touched his, and in between the pauses, she explained the whole process to him.
Their fate was frightening. But who was he to complain? She was the love of his life. He had no other choice. All he could do was to pull her for a hug. To change his writing from then on.
***
After five years.
Morgan had learned something about life. Problems never end. You might be rich and popular, but only its flavour changes. No problems no life.
"Lilyard, please..." cried Morgan. "Please forgive me! You've made me a superstar! I can't believe I'm the one doing this to you!"
Lilyard's voice was coming in rounds after being shot on the neck. "Don't... don't blame yourself. You did the... the right thing. It will be... be difficult for you but... but you have to help my daughter. She needs you!"
"Your daughter? What are you talking about?"
"Morgan, today... today you... you might die!"
"Huh?" His mouth fell open. Was this really happening to him? Dying after saving for five years to start a movie production company? Why wouldn't death wait another year? Or at least after launching it?
"Lilyard, are you cursing me or something?" He tried to ask.
"No... I... I the... the mission. She... beautiful than... me tell... tell her that I... I love..."
Morgan leaned closer to her as he cupped her face with his hands, not believing that the love of his life was dying. "Lilyard?"
Her chest popped up as if hit by electricity, and she grabbed his neck pleading, "Kiss me! Kiss me!"
When their lips touched, it felt like his soul was being absorbed or something. Invisible strings started tying him, and the pain was unbearable. He struggled to breakthrough but failed. That's when he remembered her warnings and shot her on the forehead to jump out of the bed screaming.
Everything happened just like she had told him.
"Lilyard!"
For the second time in his life, Morgan leaned against the bed with a body of his loved one lying on it dead.
'But she has told me I might die today.'
Upon the disturbing thought, he decided to go roam the forest like he always did whenever he couldn't get enough sleep. He wrapped the leather jacket around his still white body, watching Lilyard turning into a black smoke. Even her crimson dress disappeared.
After tucking the revolver into his jeans, he stepped out of the room and marched down the long corridor only to be surprised by what he saw in his living room. Two guys he didn't recognize, were closing the door behind them. His four assistants who were sitting on the sofa looked as if they had been waiting for these two figures.
When Lilyard assisted him with his books, they became top ranked so he had to hire assistants. These were not ordinary people. His childhood friends whom they shared dreams. Whom they used to share the same eye colour. Together they started Mystery Studio. Filmflix and other companies had adapted some of their comics and novels. The source of the money he used to build his mansion.
He looked at Four Ambers suspiciously. "I thought you had left the country two days ago!" he exclaimed. They had been Five Ambers when his eyes were still normal.
"Not before taking care of you." Kellen, his first kiss when he was 7 and still handsome, said with a strange smile on her face. Was it silly or mischievous? He couldn't tell.
Take care of me?
"I'm a grown up, kel!" He complained. "You guys should go partying or something else if you've postponed your voyage to Paris. I have something else to deal with."
"I guess you'll need to save it for another lifetime." Jake, a black haired guy, the artist behind Morgan's book covers said with a smirk. "Today is your last."
"You better say your last wish," Jake's twin brother added. "Don't you wish to get rid of your virginity before you die?" He was not physically fit like his twin brother or Liam. However, his words always landed heavy on anyone he would choose to confront.
Upon hearing Jay's words, Liam, Morgan's editor, burst out laughing and others joined him.
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Like it? Add to library please!
A/N: The pace is a bit flashy only in this chapter and chapter three. Also, this Lilyard thing might sound a bit weird or confusing, but it will get more clearer as the story progresses. Your support please!