December 9, 2021
Words: Hit
The sudden spike in sales is unbelievable. A novel full of bloodshed and drama, an adventurous tale of an elf gleaning for his purpose only to discover the bitter taste of destiny. It was not recognized until a sudden rise of popularity on social media acknowledged the beautiful story I have brought upon this world. It was a hit!
Ring Ring
The ringtone caught me off guard. It was a call from my editor.
"What is it?" I said, annoyed from interrupting my monologue.
"I demand an explanation!" a desperate yell pierced my eardrum.
"What are you talking about?"
"Your novel! You plagiarized everything!"
"I plagiarized nothing, not even a word," I argued. "If someone claims I plagiarized a work, what exactly is its name?"
"The lonely elf. Listen, you better e—"
Ending the call, I immediately went to my work desk. Opening the desktop, I imputed the title of the work which claimed that I copied. There was an entry on wikipedia. "The Lonely Elf," It mocks. I reluctantly clicked on the link.
The Lonely Elf. A novel written in 2004, the year I was born. A fruitless adventure of an outcasted elf who discovered the truth of his existence. Reading the novel word by word, sweat trails down my cheek.
Searching the internet, I stumbled upon a website which sold the novel. Wrath sets ablaze within me as I hover my cursor to "add to cart." With the desire to discover my destiny, the order had been set.
Few days had passed. Finally, the accursed novel arrived at my doorstep. Unpacking the novel, I began my adventure to discover the truth. Focused on turning the pages, I gradually became mentally fatigued.
How can this be? The masterpiece I have crafted for years, refined for months, was all for nothing! In what world could anyone write a story I have perfected word by word, sentence by sentence, paragraph by paragraph. It's as If I plagiarized this story.
\
I cannot be so! I thought of this story, therefore someone must have plagiarized my work!
Something clicked inside of me as I discovered the pen name of the author. Veritas, meaning time, was the goddess of truth. It was my middle school pen name as a freelance author. Are you telling me that I wrote this? That I somehow travelled back in time to screw myself up? What utter nonsense.
Ring Ring
"I have talked to Verites, the author of The Lonely Elf. He claimed to be the real Hermes." the editor said. "That begs the question, who are you?"
"What bullshit are you spouting? I'm Hermes, the one and only!"
"I'll have to inform the authorities to investigate your origins."
"You can't do this to me! I wrote this story! Not some guy who stole my middle school pen name! You have to believe me!" I shouted. The call already ended during my banter.
This can't be happening to me. This can't be happening to me. This can't be happening to me. This can't be happening to me.