Chapter 1

"One hates an author that's all author." - Byron

Tonya Francis sat at her desk, staring at her laptop. Like every other day, her writing program was open, but it was anything but used. The blank digital page seemed to mock her, small, motionless pixels of white horror that plagued her every dream and every step.

For years now, Tonya had tried to publish her novels, most of which were corny romance novels when she had the time (the total of which rising to one at present) and children's books, but only for quick money. Publisher after publisher denied her, her crappy two-room apartment having been repainted in the latest fashion of book clerical slips.

Nevertheless, 32-year-old Tonya never gave up, and her black cat, Ebony, never gave up. She had worked hard for whatever she had achieved so far, which wasn't much...

Snapping out of her daydream, she stared evilly at the laptop once more, and closed it. Loading it into her bad, as well as her keys (apartment keys; she couldn't afford a car), some lip balm and notepad and pen, she set off for the uptown bookshop.

***

Scholar's Scraps was one of the only respectable bookshops in the entire city. Owned by a middle-aged man with a slight beer belly, this place had sometimes been the only source of income for Tonya. But today, something didn't feel right.

As she opened the door, and the characteristic golden doorbell tinkled above her, the smell of paper and ink filled Tonya's mind, and before she knew it, she was browsing the many titles, wishing more than anything that she could buy even one of these expensive firsthand books.

...Alice in Wonderland, Pride and Prejudice, The Lord of the Rings...

Tonya's mind rushed back to her childhood, her mother's cottage, the smell of baked goods and wildflowers in the green fields where Tonya played all day. And of course, the many books and fairy tales that her mother would read to her late at night when she was tucked up in bed. Her creative imagination had never gone dry.

And then...she grew up.

School grades, money, ex-boyfriends, depression...

The story clerk emerged from a small door from behind the shop. He stared, slightly surprised at Tonya.

"Tonya!" he said in an exasperated voice. "Er, sorry, let me just put these books in place."

She only just noticed that he was carrying a large pile of hardbound books.

In a few seconds, the clerk was sitting behind the counter, and Tonya was once more staring at him with an expression that could only be called 'mixed'.

"I'm sorry, Tonya." His eyes were sad and brown. He looked limp and useless. "I can't help you this time," followed by a slight chuckle and a grimace.

"But...but I thought my books were good enough to last until the end of this month," Tonya said, holding back tears and a gasping voice.

"My employers are not so keen on continuing to sell books by someone who has never published any adult material. It was good while it lasted, but I'm afraid...I just can't help you without the risk of losing the business."

There was an awkward silence, and Tonya smiled, nodded, and rearranged her scarf around her neck.

"Thanks for everything, she said, and kissed the clerk on the cheek. She left the shop and the clerk in a state of pretty much whatever she was feeling. It wasn't good.

***

By the time she reached the neighbourhood in which her block of flats was situated, it was already dark. The area was dilapidated and suffering. Only a few of the streetlamps actually worked. The others were bent, or had been busted long ago. Every wall and garage was covered in every colour and style of graffiti imaginable. Tonya tried to ignore all of this as she pushed open the big metal doors to her apartment building. Making her way to the stairs, it occurred to Tonya that she had not checked her mailbox this morning. Not that she ever received anything of interest. Her 'fan mail' bordered along bills, bills, even more bills, and the occasional advertisement for the latest line of washing machine technology.

Nonetheless, Tonya opened her rusting mailbox, and saw a large yellow package lying there. She stared at it quizzically, and took it out. Thinking it better to open this rare discovery in the safety of her room, she climbed all seven floors, locked her door and sat down at her desk.

The packaged had been addressed to her. There was no mistake in that. She carefully slit the packaging open, and found a letter, as well as a large, rusty brown key.

Tonya opened the letter, which bore a large 'TONYA' on the front in cursive, and began to read:

Dear Ms Francis,

I am Mr. Aterlascius Stride, accountant to your late grandfather, Count P. Cluntsy.

'Grandfather?' thought Tonya.

I am pleased to inform you that ever since your grandfather's passing, his wealth has been gathered and shall pass to you as his only living relative. The wealth comes in the form of cash money, a number of deposited checks, and his family estate, located in this very city. All you have to do is come to my office and sign, and the fortune is yours to keep. Enclosed, please find the address of my offices, as well as the key to your new soon-to-be country manor.

I await your arrival.

Yours sincerely,

Aterlascius Stride
Sr. Accountant

Tonya must have read the letter about a thousand times before she could hammer every word into her head. The realisation that she had a fortune waiting for her was all too surreal to believe. But why had she never known about this grandfather of hers? Why had her mother never mentioned him?

There were so many questions that needed answering, but for now, Tonya would just let her mind rest, and wait for tomorrow's visit to the accountant. She held the key in her hand. It was very old and large, with a Latin inscription running along the spine, which read:

Ergo Sum Angelus Nex

She could not translate it.

As she lay in her bed, listening to a police siren go off in the distance, she closed her eyes and dreamed of the possibilities, and her new future.

***

She was running through the fields, letting her outstretched arms brush against the dandelions. The dandelions drifted apart, and floated on the soft breeze that now tickled her rosy cheeks.

The girl turned towards me, and her eyes melted and became two black holes, and her hands bled tears, cold pure tears...

Her dress was white and reached further down from her knees. Her hair was brown.

But her hands kept on bleeding, as the trees and the flowers wilted, and the earth split in two...

And her mouth opened up and in one long breath, released a terrible scream, that set everything on fire.

***

Author's Note

Written c.2009 (?)