By My Side

Flee Elsewhere

My phone rings when I'm half way to the forest, from which I can get to this secluded bench in the middle of nowhere. Where I'm safe from them.

It's my mom. Fuck. I answer.

"Where are you going?" She demands.

"Into the forest," I reply.

"No you're not!" She exclaims, "that's private property!"

"And your property is Hell!" A voice in my head snaps back.

I say nothing.

"Hey back down here!" She demands, "head to the abandoned church if you gotta go somewhere!"

Ah yes, the abandoned church that's two houses down. Yeah, going there will put some distance between us... not!

"Fine," I sigh.

I head back down and head to the abandoned church. It's an eerie old place, with the windows stained an odd rusty color, and an unnatural feel to it. As I sit on the porch of the church, and start to write, I feel a deep sadness welling up inside me. I can't keep up this facade much longer, dealing with them. I do have one plan, a desperate plan if I don't get my novel published first.

Sometimes, when I'm bored, I'll write fanfiction. One of mine became fairly popular on a website I post to sometimes, and I mean VERY popular. I got an idea, "what if I adapt this book into a series of fan animations and start a petition to get me working on the show it's based on as a writer."

This, plan, won't work, and I know it. Most think it's the heartfelt attempt of an eager, gifted writer. Actually, it's the desperate last ditch effort of an idiot writer to save himself. To get the away from his family and live elsewhere off the money from working on a TV show. A cartoon if you were wondering. Is it working? No, not really, but there's still hope when the animatic gets done.

I'm begin to write the next chapter of that fanfic...

"Why?" A voice asks, the same voice that told me to give up last night, "why write this? There's no point. You're not good enough. You'll never be good enough. You should just give up, and write for those who love only the books. Give up on yourself."

I stop writing, and the voice goes silent. I try to hold back tears as I feel myself losing it. This voice and the other one, actually bear a striking resemblance to two of my OCs I made. One of them, is a being who only cares about writing. When I made him, the voice that tells me to write began. The other is like an OC I made who only cares about the readers. Part of the plot is they wanna replace me. It's part of one of my novels.

To be honest... they just might. Some days, late at night, I'll wake up, and look in the mirror. As I look, an odd grin will appear on my face, as power fantasies come rushing through my head. Thoughts of being a famous author, powerful, rich, and playing God with my series.

Other times, when I feel low, I'll write just to feel loved. Just to remind myself it's not pointless. I'll work on stories I hate just because people like them.

I'm not insane, and I know it's all in my head, but...

Sometimes, I wish they would replace me. That I could be nothing but a being who writes, or someone who readers love, or at least, the stories of.

As I ponder all this, Bitchy calls me back to the house, and I return, having gotten only a paragraph done. After taking care of some chores, I retreat into the basement and continue writing, hiding in the safest part of the house.

Hours pass, as I listien to music and try to plan out what happens next, and a short lived moment of writer's block occurs, before finally stopping. After it stops, I write another chapter of one of my novels, and go back to work on my fanfic until I go to sleep. Praying I won't get sick again...