It is mid spring. The leaves began to fall, dancing slowly and gracefully towards the earth. The wind is slightly erect leaving chill bumps across her skin as she sits at her computer. This is her favorite season, the time of year when the wind would breeze through the open windows and scatter things about as if they were unimportant. Grace Charity was born and grew up in Michigan spending large amounts of time in those early years reading fiction, fairy tales and myths. Her mother was an amateur novelist herself but did nothing to encourage her daughter's success. Her father was the breadwinner like so many households during the 70's. He'd wanted nothing but the best for her and if that was being a writer, then a writer she should be. Now at 30, Grace wanted nothing more to go back when she didn't have a care in the world, or a bill to pay. After all the years she'd finally figured out why her mother didn't want her to be a writer. It was a very lonely career. She missed Spencer; they hadn't spoken in a week and their relationship couldn't take another day without him. On the other hand her career couldn't take any more distraction.
Her current project is much more serious then her two previous children's books. The furry rabbits and the dazzling dogs couldn't grace the pages of her latest work. There'd be no more of that; OK maybe in a few years but for now it was fiction and she was three months behind schedule. She sat there starring at the computer screen. Her thoughts were all there written on post-it notes and napkins, spread all across her desk but there were too many possibilities to choose from. She placed the countless endings in a pile and began searching through them only to come to the last one and shake her head. She made herself a glass of iced tea and returned to her computer. After rereading the last chapter she begins to write.
She wasn't surprised by what she was writing, what truly amazes her was that she was writing. She'd spent the last month going over and over the other chapters but here she was sitting in front of her computer writing like she did before her latest bout of writers block. Time was of the essence and if she was to meet her deadline she knew that if anything were to stop her now she would spend the rest of the day trying her best to get back to this spot. Her hands were shaking noticeably upon the keyboard. She smiled broadly listening to her fingertips as they came down in constant repetition. As just as suddenly as her typing started, something of a flash came off the computer screen sending her back off her seat. Everything goes dark.
A few moments later she stumbles to her feet wondering what had happened. Once back at her computer she smiled at her and Spencer's screen saver dancing across the screen. She moved the mouse to get back to work but she sees herself in the screen and backs away.
“Hello Grace,” her reflection says. “Are you surprised to see me?
Grace recognizes the voice of her character Reagan. Unlike herself Reagan's voice had a harsh undertone that gave her somewhat of a sexy and soulful voice. Grace is shocked at the image on the screen and can't find any words to describe the fear she's feeling. She walks away from the computer to compose herself; after two glasses of water she returns and the image is still there biting her fingernails seemingly waiting for something.
“Hello?” Grace says to the screen.
“Hello.”
“What's going on?” She asks.
“Well Grace, you should very well know what’s going on, I mean you've the writer.”
“I know I'm the writer, and who the hell are you?”
“You know who I am Grace. You know very well who I am.”
“Reagan?”
“Yes Grace?”
“This isn't possible, you aren't real.”
“Aren't I?”
“Can you go away now so I can get back to work?”
“I don't think so Grace. See what I've gathered from my experience is you're pretty weak. You have a lot of dreams but you aren't going after them, so I'm here to help you.”
“You can help me by leaving me alone so I can get my work done.”
“Grace tell me do you have an ending for your story?”
“Yes I do, I have many endings, what’s it to you?”
“I have an ending for you.”
“Well I don't need any help in that area thank you.”
“Maybe you don't understand our situation. You have no choices here. I am now in charge. “
Grace begins typing: Reagan trips and falls down the icy stairs. No one is around to t t t...The letters begins to disappear as Reagan is pressing the delete key with a smirk.
“Grace, Grace, Grace, like I said I'm in charge now. If I die, you die. I am you, we are one.” Reagan fed up with the drama that was unfolding she flicks the power button and the screen goes black.
The excitement that she was feeling when she started working today had faded but she was thankful for the quiet. It didn't last long when the screen flickered back to life and Reagan was there starring at her again. Her mind began searching for someone, anyone who could help her or at least help her understand what was happening. Her parents had died four months ago in a car accident and the only other person she had was Spencer. Spencer would know what to do, her eyes flashed as she made her way to the phone.
“Who are you calling?” Reagan asked.
Coincidently Reagan's doorbell rings and Grace watches intensely through the screen. She stopped dead of dialing the last number of Spencer's phone number as she seen him walking through Reagan's door. She kisses him hello and they return to the sofa adjacent to the computer desk. Grace is flabbergasted as she watches them making their way towards the bedroom. The man she talks to about spending their lives together doesn't even know whom he's sleeping with. Was she dreaming? Grace decided she'd had enough tossing an old afghan over the computer and heads to her bedroom.
After a long hot shower she laid down hoping that the memories of today would fade as her enthusiasm had done. Fitfully she wakes and fights with restless sleep over the next few hours. After tossing and turning for another few minutes she headed back into the living room only to find that all of what happen was still there. Her computer; the place where she'd written two successful novels already was still covered by the afghan her mother knitted her the Christmas before her death. Grace wanted to scream, to lash out at someone, to call Spencer and tell him to get a clue, to have her parents there to tell her 'everything is going to be just fine'. Now she didn't really know what to do, hell she didn't even know if it was seriously happening.
She was scared and confused; wishful thinking wasn't really working for her. Was the character she had created was now taking over her life? It didn't make sense. She went into her den where she kept bookcases of books and came to one on the case studies of writer's who've committed suicide. She sat and read a few of the cases and wondered if they'd gone through what she's going through now. She forced the thoughts from her mind. She looked at her first two novels centered on the fireplace mantle neatly mummified in their glass cases. Smiling she decided to get back to work. After removing the afghan from the computer she flick the screen on again and her writing software program came up after it loaded. Relieved that her nightmare was over she began reading what she had wrote earlier in the day and by the time she was finished she decided to erase it all. She started the day refreshed and ready only to feel unproductive and lonely. Writing was never this hard for her. She was now more bewildered then anything. Going through the stack of alternative endings deciding to write them all. She would decide on which one would fit when she was done and at least she would have gotten some writing done today.
Beforehand she calls Spencer, she wants to feel him. She wants to relieve that depressive loneliness that comes with their careers. Spencer Meadow is an editor for Playback, a small press music magazine. They were perfect for each other, both in the literary industry, both understanding of time constraints, both young and still at the kick off of their career. She had demanded space and he gave it to her freely even though he wanted more. She politely turned him down when he asked her to live with him. She loves Spencer there was no doubt about it in her mind but she also wanted to live on her own for a little while. She wanted to be independent and financially stable before jumping into a relationship. Spencer was only her second boyfriend, the only man she'd ever slept with. She didn't listen to her mother about her career choice but she did listen when her mother said don't just give the first man you fall in love with all of you, at least not right away. She was disappointed when she got his answering machine and after leaving a message she returned to her computer. As she began typing again Reagan appears.
“Did you miss me?” Reagan asks.
“Not really, seriously am I hallucinating?”
“Not at all dear Grace. See if you were I couldn't do this.” Reagan said just before Grace's chair fell over sending her to the floor screaming as her foot slams into the table.
“Ouch! What the hell did you do that for?” Grace begins typing: Reagan's keyboard flies up and hits her in the head. Then she watches as Reagan's keyboard does just what she typed.
“Oh you play dirty Grace. Reagan says as a small stream of blood trails down her forehead. “But this, you and I can go on forever if I want it to. Oh and your little boring ass boyfriend is in the bedroom snoring. What do you see in him?”
“You leave him alone.”
“Don't worry dear Grace, you can have him. “ Regan begins typing: Grace begins to cry. She misses Spencer and wants nothing more then for him to be with her now. She needs someone to help her figure out what exactly is going on. “See Grace, if we do what you always did when we will get the same results. Your life is boring, I'm here to make it better.”
“Shut up, my life is not boring and who the hell are you to tell me about my life. You are fiction, you are nothing but a figment of my imagination.”
“No I'm a dynamic character who you resurrected in your likeness.”
“I'm not a God, I can resurrect no one.” Grace replied clearly frustrated.
“You're right you aren't a God because if you were, I wouldn't be here, would I?”
“Why are you here?”
“That is a good question Grace, why am I here?” There conversation is interrupted by a knock on the door. Grace answers it and then breakdown in Spencer's arms.
“What's wrong?” He asks concerned.
“I've been having a rough couple days.”
“What are you talking about? I just left for 20 minutes. What could have happened since then?” For a moment Grace is confused.
“No Spencer, you were with her last night, not me.”
“What the hell are you talking about Grace?” He asks surprised by the anger in her voice.
“The girl you were with looks like me, talks like me but wasn't me. Come and I'll show you.”
“You're crazy Gracie. We shouldn't have stayed up all night, you really need some sleep.”
“No I don't need sleep, you were with her!” Grace exclaims pointing towards the computer.
“What kind of program is this?” He sits down at the desk.
“Hello!” Reagan says, smiling. Spencer jumps almost falling out of the chair.
“What the hell Gracie?”
“That is what I'm trying to tell you. Meet Reagan, she is the character of my new novel.”
“Characters don't stare at you or talk. Are you making a movie?” Grace sighs.
“No she thinks she's going to take over my life. How you were with her last night I don't really know, but I do know you weren't with me.”
“Bullshit Gracie. Just unplug the damn thing.” Spencer walks over and unplugs the computer, it makes a small beeping sound as if it shut off but Reagan is still there smiling.
“See what you two don't understand is I'm in charge now.” Reagan states.
“What are we going to do Spencer?”
“I'm still not sure what’s going on”
“Oh the tragedy of it all.” Reagan mocks raising her hand to her forehead. “Its simple, I'm a character of a story that you created in your likeness. I'm here to give your boring life a little flavor. You are dull and to be honest I think I'm more beautiful.”
“You are my creation, I made you, and I’ll delete you.” Grace yells.
“There is only one way to delete me and that is to erase the entire story. Creator, oh great writer the keyboard works on my side too. What are you going to do?” Spencer watches both ladies dumbfounded.
“SHUT UP!” Grace yells at the screen.
“You'll never be able to shut me up! Do you hear me? NEVER!”
“Oh I'll shut you up alright!” Grace runs to the front room closet and retrieves a baseball bat, screaming with rage she violently swings at the monitor sending shards glass and plastic everywhere. Spencer who was just standing there witnessing the commotion lets out a high-pitched scream.
Grace smiles as she types the next two words. Her writer's block had certainly passed leaving her with the perfect ending. The End.
