Wild Fiction

‘Don’t talk,’ she said. ‘Relax and rest, it looks like you took a nasty knock.’
Genevieve closed her eyes and lent back against the chair. It was the first pause that Rebecca’s mind had had since she had left the tree. In a moment of panic she thought about the author’s dead body and stiffened. With the author gone, her only chance of immortality was finding another author. There was Retir W. Doog, but she did not trust him. He was out to make name for himself with stolen ideas, no originality she thought. Her other immediate choice was Genevieve. Could she take Genevieve into her confidence and get her to finish the story? She thought of Conrad and James, they needed a good ending to be publishable.
‘I think I should lie down. I’m feeling faint,’ Genevieve said.
‘I’ll help you to your bedroom. Where is it?’ Rebecca asked.
They went upstairs and Rebecca helped Genevieve onto the bed. Rebecca sat next to her and watched her fall asleep. She picked up Genevieve’s limp wrist and checked her pulse again. It was beating very fast. She searched the cupboards, found a light sheet, pulled it over her, and left the room.
Rebecca found the boys doing much the same thing as they were doing when she had left them. She looked at them for a few moments to determine if they had moved or swapped positions but could not see any difference. Conrad looked up when she entered. ‘What’s wrong? What happened?’ He stood up and caught her as she collapsed into his arms.
‘He’s dead,’ she sobbed. ‘He was our only chance and now he’s dead.’
‘Sit down,’ he said placing her on the sofa.
After she had calmed down, they made her recount what had happened.
‘He’s dead?’ James said shaking his head. ‘That can’t be. If he’s dead then how’s this taking place?’
‘I think it’s all surviving and taking place in my mind,’ Rebecca said. ‘I have a feeling that I’ve been empowered to carry on the story in my head but not control its direction. I’m going to be able to dictate things as they happen but someone real is going to have to write it and publish it. I think we need Genevieve on our side to help us end it and to get it published.’
‘No,’ Conrad and James said together.
‘That would be a mistake with a capital M,’ James said. ‘She would cut you out like a malignant mole. Your role in this story would be over and you’d disappear for ever.’