Never in his life did Mason Bradley think words could be so hard to think of.
He sat in his usual seat by the window, writing his book. The pages seemed to turn slower and slower as his delicate brain transformed into a desert. They keys barely moved now. No more ideas.
It had been a year since his first time on The Top Table at the regular bookstore and he already published 7 books in the last 2 years. 3 of which landed on the table in the last year. He was rising so fast, but had no idea where to go now.
He dropped his head in frustration and sighed heavily.
The bell rang, signalling another customer. His green eyes shot up to greet a young girl around the age of 16 suited in a white, flowing dress. Her hair was black, eyes blue. He recognized her immediately.
She turned to see him and a smile painted her face, turning it from scared to relieved. Her footsteps, almost silent, made their way towards his lonely self.
"Mason!" She said, her voice a silky note of beauty. "I'm Shaya. From your book?"
Mason stared at her, studying her every detail. The bare feet with a small chain latched around her ankle all the way up to the hairs on her head that stood in many directions, but still looked perfect. Looking at her neck, he saw another chain; it was matching the one on her ankle. Her hand reached out into a handshake. She smiled. Another chain dangled from her wrist. Perfect teeth. Her nails, perfectly trimmed. The embodiment of perfection stood in front of her polar opposite.
"Well, aren't you going to greet me?" She said, moving her hand a little closer.
He reached out and put his hand in hers, awe still plastered across his face where everyone could see. Her skin was as smooth as silk and soft like a freshly washed kitten.
"H-hi." He stumbled out. "How are you... Where did you... What?"
"Oh, yes. The famous question. I knew you were going to ask." She smiled. "Well, every time you write an idea down, it comes to life. We have a designated place where your ideas are born. I was made a while ago and I'm just as you wrote me. Only real."
"But.." He started, unable to finish.
"But you need to know how I got here. Well, one of your new stories caused panic in the Kingdom of Naio. I found a tunnel that brought me here just after the panic had started. I decided to go through it a few times and learn your world.This time, I came to find you and, well, here you are and here I am."
"So you're just as I wrote you? Exactly?"
"Well, no. Every time we travel from world to world, we change. We get a mark or a word." She held up her arm. "One of mine says 'lost.'"
He read the unfamiliar ink on her skin. He reached out to touch it and she pulled her arm away.
"Don't! Don't touch it. It will hurt you." She blurted out. She looked outside and closed her eyes. "Time to go. Its almost nightfall." Mason grabbed his things and put them in the small brown satchel with ripped green strings lacing it that was tattered from over-use.
She grabbed his hand and walked to the door. He pulled out his wallet to pay, but the cashier refused.
"Its on the house, Mason. Be back soon?" he said. His gray eyes always smiled, even if he was down. They didn't at all match his jet black hair, but it fit. Almost as well as his small body fit in his big jacket he seemed to never take off.
"Yeah. I just gotta go... write more somewhere else..."
Mason turned and Shaya was looking at him with a worried look.
YOU ARE READING
Inked Skin
FantasyA man, Mason Bradley, is an author whose books have come to life. He goes to a realm full of his books and learns that every story he's ever wrote lives there. Soon, he discovers he cannot leave.
