Fantastic Fables of Foster Flat
Page 19
THE DRINKING HAD STARTED with just a glass or two at the end of a successful day of writing, but lately, the wine consumption had increased as the word production dried up. Wine Time, as she affectionately called it, had moved from starting at five-thirty to five, then four. Now, anytime she felt the icy fingers of fear threatening to catapult her into an anxiety attack, she’d excuse herself to the kitchen and her stash of Merlot or Cabernet. The wine had moved from a simple pleasure to a necessary painkiller and antidepressant.
As she walked the now familiar path from the wine store to her home, she pulled out one of the bottles from the paper bag. She had started buying at least one bottle with a screw top instead of a cork, so she didn’t have to wait until she returned home to quiet her nerves. She glanced around to see if any of her neighbors might be watching, then chuckled. Really, what did she care what her neighbors thought? They already viewed her as the weirdo at the end of the street. You know, the one who’s made a fortune pretending she knows everything about love and romance. She raised the bottle high above her head as she twisted it open. “Here’s to what I think of your opinions!” She lowered the bottle to her lips and took several large gulps, then wiped her mouth with her sleeve.
“That’s telling them!”
A shocked Ellenore turned in the direction of the voice. Shit! I thought I was alone. There, standing a few yards behind her, was her old friend, Allison. She’d not seen Allison in years, not since Ellenore’s muse had appeared and Ellenore had accused Allison of channeling her not-so-dearly departed mother, who always found something derogatory to say about Ellenore.
“What are you doing here?” Ellenore asked.
“It looks like you could use a friend right about now,” Allison replied. “Can I have a sip of that?” she asked, pointing to the bottle.
“You may not!” Ellenore said as she turned to resume her walk home.
She trudged on in silence, guzzling the wine as she went.
“So, you’re going to give your old friend the silent treatment,” Allison said, as Ellenore neared her home. “Is that the smartest move you can make?”
Ellenore continued walking, increasing the pace.
“I’d say you need a friend right about now, and as far as I can tell, I’m it. Well, me and that bottle.”
“Leave the bottle out of it.”
“Sure thing. Drink away. Fine by me.”
Ellenore took another long pull on the now almost empty bottle. As she did so, Allison faded slowly away.
THE WEEKS SLID INTO a month, and then a second one. Ellenore still had no manuscript to send to Rachel, who was becoming increasingly belligerent with her former all-star author. During this time, Allison continued to make periodic appearances, most often after Ellenore was well into her second bottle of wine. Ellenore finally decided to forgive her old friend and since then, had started to appreciate the company.
On one such night as the two of them sat around the kitchen table, Ellenore broke one of her few remaining cardinal rules and opened a third bottle of wine for the day. She told Allison her plan. “I think I just need to come clean with Rachel. Go to her and let her know that my imagination has dried up. Maybe she can give me some ideas what I can do about it.”
“Really? That’s the best you can come up with?” Allison replied, a look of disgust on her face. “That’s a terrible idea. She’ll drop you like a hot potato, and then where will you be? No, I have a better idea. Do you want to hear it?”
Ellenore started to pour another glass of wine from the new bottle, then, realizing the glass wouldn’t hold still, took a swig straight from the bottle. “I guess.”
“How many books have you written and had published?” Before Ellenore could answer, Allison rushed on. “Dozens, right? All romances and all have done well. You’ve got everything that you need right there on your computer.”
Ellenore, who was having trouble focusing on her friend’s words, asked, “I do?”
“Sure you do. Listen, all you need to do is take one of those old stories and use it as a template for this next one. Change the names of the characters, maybe a few details about them. Change the setting a bit if you want. But it’s all there. You don’t need any imagination that way.”
Ellenore thought about Allison’s idea. Could it be that simple? Just take an old story and change the names and setting. Slowly, she started to shake her head. “No, that wouldn’t be right. That would be like plag...plager...plagiarizing my own work,” she said, then hiccuped.
“Who cares? Your readers won’t. Neither will Rachel. Just give them what they want—another piece of drivel that’ll make them happy.”
“I don’t know...it’s just not right.” Ellenore mumbled as she lowered her head to the table. “Not right...not right...” she repeated over and over as she drifted off to sleep.
She awoke the next morning with a stiff neck from her head resting on the kitchen table at an odd angle. She rubbed her eyes in an effort to clear them as she stumbled up to make a pot of coffee. She dumped in a couple extra scoops of her strongest brand. “Caffeine! I need caffeine!” she shouted to the walls and immediately regretted it. The top of her head felt like it would pop off like a champagne cork and shoot around the room. As the coffee began to percolate, she walked into the bathroom to relieve herself and to soak her head in a sink of cold water before returning to the kitchen.
She poured herself a mug of coffee, forgoing the customary sugar and cream. She needed it straight today. She wished she could administer it intravenously, but by mouth would have to do. She glanced at the microwave clock as it clicked over to 9:00 AM. Before she could get to the phone to take it off the hook, it rang. Ellenore groaned. It had to be Rachel, calling for the umpteenth time to ask about the manuscript. I should just let it go to the answering machine, she thought, but finally picked it up on the fourth ring.
“Good morning, Rachel,” Ellenore began. “I know you’re probably wondering where the manuscript is...” As she talked, she sifted through her mental rolodex of excuses trying to find one she hadn’t already used.
“I’m sorry, this isn’t Rachel. This is Melissa, from First Federal. Is this Ellenore Michner?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Yes, this is she.”
Good morning, Ms. Michner. You’ve been such a loyal customer of our bank I thought it only right that I alert you to a situation with your checking account.”
“Situation? What situation? What’s wrong?” Ellenore felt her heart skip a beat. She hadn’t received a call from her bank in over five years, though before that time, she’d been on a first name basis with several bank officers from bouncing so many checks. Finally, she’d been forced to switch banks. Thankfully, since that time, she rarely even thought about her account. There was always plenty of money in it.
“A couple of your auto-pay bills didn’t clear,” the woman replied. “Since this is the first time it’s happened, we can waive the penalty fee, but I thought you’d want to know. Would you like us to transfer some funds from your savings account?”
“Yes, yes, please do,” Ellenore replied. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea the account was that low.” Last time she’d checked, she’d had over a three thousand dollar balance, but how long ago had that been? She couldn’t remember.
“No problem, Ms. Michner. Such things happen from time to time.” How well I know, Ellenore thought. She remembered many a night as a child watching her mother sitting at her small corner desk fretting about how to ‘pay too many bills with not enough money’. How many times had she heard her mother say that lament? Oh my god, I’m turning into my mother! The hell you say, she countered. I’ll be damned if I’ll let that happen and especially not around my finances. I have to do something and do it quick.
She hung up the phone and went to pour herself another mug of coffee, adding a little cream and sugar to this one. She sat at the table and pondered her plight. By the time the phone rang again ten minutes later, she’d made up her mind. As she
suspected, the second call was from her agent.
“Rachel, I have some excellent news...” She paused, listening to Rachel, then continued. “I know I’ve said that before, but this time I mean it. I’ve had a breakthrough. Now, I haven't finished the manuscript yet, but I promise I’ll have it to you by the end of the week. You can bank on it.”
“I sure hope you’re telling me the truth this time,” Rachel said. “I can’t keep putting the folks at Avon off. It’s my reputation on the line as well as yours.”
“I know, I know,” Ellenore replied. “Don’t worry. Just give me to the end of the week, and the finished manuscript will be in your inbox.”
Ellenore hung up the phone, picked up her mug of coffee and strolled into her office, feeling good for the first time in weeks. She sat down and opened her laptop. As she waited for it to wake up, she went over the various stories in her mind she’d written in the past ten years. By the time the word processor had finished opening, she knew which story she’d use. As the day progressed, she found herself being very thankful to whoever had created the “Find and Replace” command.
Four days later the manuscript was finished, a full day ahead of schedule. She started a new email message in her email program, attached the file to it and mailed it to Rachel. Her hand hesitated for just a moment over the send button. Was she really going to follow through with Allison’s plan? She remembered the embarrassing conversation with the lady from the bank. Damn right I am, she thought as she clicked on the send button. Done. Time to celebrate with a glass of wine. It turned out to be a bottle-and-a-half celebration.
The Story Continues in Further Fantastic Fables of Foster Flat: More Tales with a Twist
Return to Foster Flat to enjoy more fantastic fables in book 2
Audiobook version also available at:
mybook.to/ffable2
A Message from
Orrin Jason Bradford
(aka W. Bradford Swift)
AS AN INDIE AUTHOR, I’ve come to realize just how important readers are. Without people who enjoy reading, authors are pretty useless. Oh, I know I enjoy the thrill of writing the next great American novel, but that’s really not enough. I need readers like yourself who enjoy reading my stories. So, thank you. I sincerely appreciate your taking the time to read Fantastic Fables of Foster Flat.
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Orrin Jason Bradford (aka W. Bradford Swift)
About the Author
ORRIN JASON BRADFORD is the pen name W. Bradford Swift uses for his adult fiction to distinguish it from his nonfiction and young adult novels. An avid reader from childhood, he continues to read and study science fiction and fantasy. As a young man, he promised one day to write his own fiction in gratitude to the many authors who kept him entertained and more or less sane over the years.
Swift is best known for his visionary fiction and nonfiction that “entertain while also enlightening and encouraging the reader to expand their sense of what is possible, and then applying that expanded awareness to their life.” He is a graduate of Clarion West in Seattle, WA – a residential workshop for writers of science fiction and fantasy. He lives in the “paradise found” of the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina with his wife, Ann, their daughter, Amber, and a menagerie of four-legged family members.
His other speculative fiction includes the FreeForm technothriller series, Babble, and the Zak Bates Eco-adventure series. He is also the author of visionary nonfiction including: Life On Purpose: Six Passages to an Inspired Life, Spiral of Fulfillment: Living an Inspired Life of Service, Simplicity and Spiritual Serenity, and From Spark to Flame: Fanning Your Passion & Ideas into Money-making Magazine Articles that Make a Difference. To learn more about additional stories and books by the author go to: www.wbradfordswift.com
Porpoise Publishing
Flat Rock, NC 28731
www.lifeonpurpose.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Fantastic Fables of Foster Flat/ W. Bradford Swift
1. Fantasy anthology 2. Speculative Fiction 3. Tales with a Twist
Copyright © 2015, W. Bradford Swift (aka Orrin Jason Bradford)
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from Life On Purpose Institute, Inc / Porpoise Publishing, with the exception of short excerpts used with acknowledgement of publisher and author.
Cover design by Victor Habbick
Typeset in Book Palatino
Printed in USA
First Edition
About the Publisher
Porpoise Publishing is the imprint of indie author W. Bradford Swift who also writes under the pen name of Orrin Jason Bradford. It is best known for publishing visionary fiction--stories that entertain while also inspiring readers to imagine greater possibilities for their lives.