Venting in anger, Benjamin stormed upstairs. Edmund rolled his eyes and sulked back into the parlor. He collected his writings, wondering if he should continue this obsession. He laughed at his stupidity and shook his head. He looked over his shoulder and grimaced in anger at the spot where he and the editor had parted.
Shaking with resentment, he gathered his novel and thundered up the stairs. His eyes were locked on the spare room. With a pounding heart, he whisked around the corner and hurried down the corridor. He stopped in front of Benjamin’s door and knocked.
"Who’s there?” Benjamin asked.
"It’s Edmund. We have to talk this instant.”
The clunking of idle feet hitting the floorboards was the response he received.
"Benjamin, please. I’m sorry.”
The door creaked open just wide enough for a partial view of Benjamin’s face to be seen. “What?”
"Please, you can’t stop—,” Edmund began, his face filled with a deep hopelessness.
"Edmund, I told you; I will not repeat myself again. Your book cannot be published.” Benjamin drew himself back into the room and began shutting the door before Edmund planted a foot in the way. Benjamin clenched his jaw and shot narrowed eyes at him. “Remove it, or I’ll slam—,”
"I won’t let you leave this house unless you edit this novel!”
Benjamin’s eyes widened and he pushed the door open. “You’re so childish. Are you crazy, or something? You want to threaten our friendship over a petty novel?”
"I never asked for a friendship, I asked for an editor. And you will edit my story.”
Benjamin, knowing he couldn’t strike Edmund, took it out on the doorway in frustration.
“Don’t do that!” Edmund ordered, pointing at the doorframe.
Benjamin shoved Edmund hard enough to slam him against the wall behind him and held him there. “You better start listening to yourself and realize that I am a human being as well. I’m not one of your characters to be manipulated into doing what you want!”
Edmund wriggled out of Benjamin’s grasp and stepped away from him. Keeping his arm out in front of him in case another confrontation rose, Edmund spoke hastily, “I want an honest answer to why you won’t finish it.”
"It’s absurd! The more I read, the more I find myself believing it to be real. When I read it, I don’t know where I am. I don’t know if I’m here, or in the story. And I can’t sleep at night either.” Benjamin sunk to the floor. He looked up at Edmund, whose eyes were moistening. “You’re just a child, Edmund. You haven’t seen the world like I have. There’s life beyond these walls, and you’re missing it.”
Edmund slid to the floor as well and cradled his own head in his hands. He whimpered for a while before looking over at Benjamin.
"Can't you finish the novel?” Benjamin asked. “Every story has to have an end.”
"I can't. The last pages are still in process.”
"That’s what you said last time.”
Edmund laughed softly. He had to cough several times before his voice was clear enough to be heard. “I told you, I can’t stop this. I just went to sleep one night and it happened.”
Benjamin’s brows furrowed and his voice became a whisper. “What happened? You keep saying, ‘it happened.’ What happened?”
"I entered this void.”
YOU ARE READING
A Novelist
Historical FictionA troubled writer and an optimistic editor come at odds with each other when the novel they are editing threatens their grip on reality. Knowing no other way to escape the insanity, the editor swears to destroy it. However, the power between the nov...
