LITERATURE BY

Adrian Gibb
© Adrian Gibb 2005

THE NEXT TOLKIEN

'This is sheer hell'

This thought, which had floated in and out of Liz Harvey's consciousness for the last 20 minutes, reflected an accumulation of forced smiles, inane remarks and a rather painful left hand. As yet another fan handed her a copy of the newly released 'Homeward Bound' for signing, she thought of how philosophically ironic it was that such profuse praise as 'I think you are the next Tolkien' and 'You have changed my life' could actually become so bloody annoying.

Not that Liz Harvey was ungrateful! Who wouldn't want to be thought of as the next Tolkien? Even though, personally, she found the famed author's books over laden with geographical ramblings and quite ridiculously complicated character identification (she had ended up losing count of how many different names Gandalf had), the point was that she had 'made it', she had left her mark, and achieved the kind of immortal fame most writers desire.

"Can you make it out to Julie?" asked a denim jacket with cargo pants.
"Sure" said Liz with another fake smile.
"Thank you SO much"
"No problem"
"Can I just say...?”
"Yeah...?"
"Your books are so..."
"Hmmm?"
"Tolkienesque!"
"Oh. Well...thanks, that’s a big compliment"

The denim jacket giggled a sycophantic giggle and moved off to be replaced by a blue anorak.

'Sheer hell' she thought once again.

You see, the big problem Liz Harvey had was that, unlike most writers, she didn't want the fame, or the adoration. All she wanted to do, all she ever wanted to do, was write, and to make enough money from writing to continue to write, without the anchors of life like a job and money concerns to weigh her down. This she had achieved, and had become a regular contributor of quirky and bizarre short stories to various on-line and hard-copy literary magazines. It was only because one of these short story ideas had taken on a life if its own and became a best selling trilogy that her ideal existence took such a dramatic turn.

The story was about a clinically dead 12 year old boy, Alex Andrews, who was connected to various machines which were keeping him alive after a severe bus accident. His parents had been informed that there was no medical possibility of recovery and that their son, for all intents and purposes, was already dead. However, before pulling the proverbial and literal plug, Mr. and Mrs. Andrews had decided to give Alex a week. If he hadn't come back to them by then, they would free up the valuable resources of the hospital and say goodbye to their only child.

Alex, watching all this from a mysterious world which he had found himself thrust into, knew he had to get back to that hospital bed. This new place was lovely and all, almost heavenly, but he wasn't ready to leave his parents, or his dog, or his friends, and he was going to get back to that hospital bed, he had to, and he only had a week to get there. So, with the help of his deceased godfather, eager to help his best friend's son get back to his family, Alex Andrews sets off on some amazing and, apparently, Tolkienesque adventures through magical lands and mystical situations.

Liz Harvey had submitted a synopsis of this tale to a children's publisher on the off-chance. To her astonishment they loved the concept and offered her a three book deal worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. If this wasn’t amazing enough, the first book was such a success upon final release that movie rights and distribution deals quickly followed. This meant that Liz Harvey was now a millionaire, and one of the most popular writers in the world. While she was ecstatic at first, who wouldn't be, every press junket and book signing, every compromise and market targeting, every reproach from the publishing company to stick with the original formula, led Liz Harvey, paradoxically, to a point of severe, if not abject, misery!

'But it’s almost all over' Liz thought with a sly inner smile as she signed yet another copy of 'Homeward Bound' belonging to a grey tracksuit top.

She had informed everyone, her manager, her publisher, her agent, and, after today’s press conference, the world, that she was finished. No more Alex Andrew's adventures, indeed no more novels, of any variety, from Liz Harvey. She had already secretly decided that she would continue to write short stories, albeit under a pseudonym, but any kind of major writing project was strictly verboten from now on. This decision meant that, although she still had to get through this hellish signing and the dreaded press conference that was to follow, she could already feel the weight lifting from her shoulders.

"Could you make it out to Mary?" asked a blue REM shirt.
"Sure" sighed the author.
"You know, as I was reading your first book I thought of how similar it was to Tolkien's work"
"Really? Well...thanks, that’s a big compliment"

Mary moved off to be replaced by the next in line, who Liz Harvey barely noticed as she automatically grabbed the next book and began to sign.

"Could you write 'To my biggest fan'?" mumbled a yellow Goodies T-shirt in a deep voice.
"Sure"
"Can I just say I think your Forest of Seraphim was quite reminiscent of the Ent people in Tolkien's Two Towers, it was amazing"
"Oh. Well...thanks that’s a big...

Before she could finish her prepared response the Goodies T-shirt rapidly bent down and placed his face a few centremetres from the writer's.

"Beware the leather jacket!" he whispered.
"I'm sorry?" Liz Harvey said as she recoiled from the fried chicken and cola breath wafting beneath her nose.
"Beware the leather jacket!"
'Here we go' thought Liz Harvey. There always seemed to be one loony in every signing, it was one of the reasons why she hated them so much.
"The... what?"
"The leather jacket!"
"Which leather jacket?"
"He is standing five people down the line from me" said the Goodies T-shirt with a small nod in that direction "Do you see him? He is tall, with dark glasses and a long black goatee beard"

Liz Harvey looked down the line of fans. Sure enough, towering above the others was a man with long black hair, overgrown goatee, sunglasses and a tattered leather jacket. As she looked she used her peripheral vision to take in the man that filled out the Goodies T-shirt. He was overweight, but not quite fat, with brown thinning hair parted in an incredibly old-fashioned way. His face was pale, and he had a slight red rash just above his eyebrows. The most remarkable feature of this man, however, was his eyes. Although beady and bloodshot, they were of an amazing piercing green colour, which could not fail to draw you into their spectrum.

"Okay, I see him" Liz Harvey said turning back to her frantic fan.
"You do?"
"Yes"
"Good!"

A pregnant pause floated between them as the Goodies T-shirt's green eyes stared into Liz Harvey's hazel.

"Um...what about him?" the writer asked.
"Who?"
"The guy in the leather jacket!"
"Oh... beware the leather..."
"Yes I KNOW that. I want to know why?"
"Oh... yes... sorry"

A small cough came from a white singlet standing behind the Goodies T-shirt. Others wanted to get their book signed, obviously, and Liz Harvey was running out of patience with this man as much as they were.

"Look, I do have other people to..."
"I know but...
"But...what?"
"You have to watch him. Please! For your own sake, watch him like a hawk!"
"And why should I do that?"
"Because... because he is here to hurt you! Okay?"

Liz Harvey, for the first time, felt a small bead of panic snake its way down her spine.

"Hurt me? What do you mean?"
"Well, not hurt you, it doesn't really hurt as such..."
"Look unless you tell what is going on..."
"He's going to...he wants to..."
"...YES?"

The Goodies T-shirt stood and looked around before continuing.

"He is here to steal your soul!" he whispered.
"SECURITY!"
"No...no..."
"SECURITY!"
"Please...just give me a chance to explain"
"Sure, you have as long as it takes for Security to come. SECURITY!" Liz Harvey shouted as she turned this way and that to see if there were any saving uniforms coming her way.
"Okay! He wants to steal the original manuscript of 'Homebound Bound'. Have you got it here? I assume you have it with you?"
"No!" said Liz Harvey nervously as she unconsciously placed her foot beside the bag which held the original manuscript and the notes she had made for today’s press conference.
"I see" said the Goodies T-shirt as he glanced down at the author's obvious gesture. "Well anyway, he wants to take it and use it to steal your soul!"
"Uh-huh, of course he does, sounds logical" she said still searching for some sign of help.

Finally, the front door of the book store opened and a red-faced 60 year old man in a beige uniform was hurrying towards the signing desk.

"Look..." continued the Goodies T-shirt "...every author leaves a trace of their soul in their books, okay, and their original manuscript more than any other. This man uses Prayer, or Magic, or Voodoo, or Mojo, I have no idea, to extract this trace and manipulate you to do whatever he wills"
"What a bastard! Well, I see its time for you to leave so thanks for coming..."

A beige arm grabbed the Goodies T-shirt and began to drag him away.

"No...please...you have to believe me"
"Come on Mate, we can do this the easy way or the hard way" grumbled the security guard.
"Please don't hurt him, he is just a little lost I think" said Liz Harvey.
"Yes...yes I am lost. I AM LOST BECAUSE OF THE MAN IN THE LEATHER JACKET!"

The said leather jacket looked quite stunned at being mentioned by this maniac and pointed a confused finger at his own chest.

"I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE DOING!" The Goodies T-shirt screamed.
"Look, just shut up and come with me" The security guard said through clenched teeth.
"MY - MY NAME IS BYRON MALENY..." The Goodies T-shirt screamed as he was marched out of the store. "AND HE DID IT TO ME!"

As the door closed behind the struggling duo, the book store fell into the eerie silence that always preceded the high-pitched fast talking hub bub that occurred after a group of people have seen something out of the ordinary. As this din inevitably began to erupt, Liz Harvey had the name of Byron Maleny floating through her head.

She knew of him, of course, as most people even remotely associated with the literary world did. Byron Maleny had written a tour-de-force called 'A Shadow Across Her Face' in the mid-nineties which had been hailed as the greatest literary novel since 'Ulysses'. Indeed, he was described as the next James Joyce by most of his colleagues, including Liz Harvey, whose Tolkien comparisons made her now regret the pressure that such a comparison must have placed on him. The world, well, the world's intelligenzia at least, were eagerly awaiting his next masterpiece when, suddenly, he shifted focus completely and attempted to pioneer a genre called 'dick-lit'. Meant to reflect the burgeoning 'chick-lit' genre, it involved stories centering on sensitive new age men, usually with an interesting or funky career, who would get drunk and sleep around and say that they didn't need a woman to be complete before meeting a woman who would then, of course, make them complete. It was received as well as a case of anthrax poisoning and Byron Maleny disappeared soon after the critics began pouring scorn on the entire concept.

'If that was really Byron Maleny' Liz Harvey thought as the white singlet stepped forward and she began signing books again, 'He has really let himself go. He had such promise, such an intellect and wit! If only he could have kept writing magnificent novels like 'Shadow'. And that amazing transformation! Why would he cease being such a superb writer and turn into the peddler of rubbish he had become? Maybe...maybe he was telling the truth? It would certainly explain the unexplainable. Maybe that’s why he turned his back on his prodigious talent to write such superficial and banal pap? Maybe he was being manipulated! Is it possible? No, how could it be! It was insane! Souls can't be stolen! Can they? No, no way, I am being stupid. Totally and utterly stupid. Aren't I?'

As Liz Harvey reached out to grab the next book, she suddenly realised that the leather jacket the Goodies T-shirt had warned her about was now only three people away from her. Despite herself, and all of her own assurances to the contrary, she found herself dreading this man arriving at her table. You see, Liz Harvey had always been susceptible to the superstitious and the supernatural. Unlike the majority of her generation, who tended to believe nothing, Liz Harvey believed in everything, and was open minded to the existence of, and power of, a myriad of ghosts, fairies, gods, goddesses and beings. Some saw this as gullibility. For her part, she saw it as part and parcel with her reliance on imagination and romance to cope with her day to day living. It's what allowed her to write so well, anyway, so it couldn't be that bad.

The leather jacket shuffled forward one more space. She found she could not take her eyes off him. He still had his sunglasses on, which added to his menacing appearance, and his stoic straight-ahead gaze caused shivers in the soul that, according to the alleged Byron Maleny, was about to be stolen.

“Hi, Ms Harvey, I was wondering if I could ask you for a favour?” asked the next in line, a floral blouse with shoulder pads.
“Hmmm?”
“Could I take a picture with you and my daughter? She’s 11 years old and LOVES your books”
“Oh…well…” stalled Liz Harvey as she continued to keep an eye on the leather jacket.
“It would mean the world to both of us”
“Um…okay”

As the floral blouse took a picture of her daughter standing shyly beside her favourite author, Liz Harvey was doing all she could not to lose sight of the man she now amazingly and irrationally feared.

“Oh that’s brilliant. Thank you so much” gushed the floral blouse.
“Yep. No-no problem” mumbled Liz Harvey as she continued to stare at the coming-ever-closer leather jacket.
“Hi Liz. Could you make it out to Sarah?” asked the next fan, a teenager wearing a Powderfinger T-shirt.
“Sure”
“Uh...could I ask you a question?”
“Um…okay…”

Liz Harvey suddenly noticed the Leather Jacket looking to his left and talking.

‘Who is he talking to? He isn’t mumbling a spell is he?’ Liz Harvey wondered as she found herself getting angry, both for the fact that she couldn’t see who the leather jacket's companion was and also because she was actually worried about spells being mumbled!

“Do you ever get writer’s block?” asked the Powderfinger T-shirt, oblivious to Liz Harvey's musings.
“Oh…well...um... sometimes I have to admit… OH MY GOD!”

As the fan turned left and right to see the source of her panic, Liz Harvey was staring at a young man standing beside the leather jacket. He was about a foot shorter, but had the same glasses, the same beard, the same hairstyle and, to Liz Harvey’s horror, the same leather jacket! There wasn’t just one of them she had to contend with, there was a miniature version too! And they were both up next!

“Um…sorry…yes writers block. That’s really a very interesting topic. Why don’t you stick around and we can have a chat about it?” asked Liz Harvey. She knew she was grasping at the last straw of an uninteresting conversation to avoid meeting with the next in line, but she could not face the leather jackets.
“Oh, well, I wouldn’t want to hold up the…”
“Oh, please, that’s fine, why don’t you pull up a seat”
“Really? But all these people…”
“They will understand”
“No, no, it was just a quick question really…”
“No, no, it’s a fascinating topic and anyway I have the press conference in a few minutes so you were really the last in line, truth be told”
“Well…”
“Sit down”
“But…”
“SIT DOWN!”
“Okay, okay” said the bemused fan walking off to find a chair.

Just as Liz Harvey thought she was saved from the inevitable confrontation, her manager came over and ushered the Powderfinger T-shirt away, helpfully telling the author not to rush, that she had plenty of time to finish off the rest of the line.

With another slight shuffle forward, the leather jackets were standing with their denim clad scrotums about three inches from Liz Harvey’s face. She knew she should look up, she knew that to stare at two men’s genitalia for an extended length of time was something of a social faux pas, but nothing could induce her to look into those dark glasses.

“Ahem!” fake-coughed the taller of the leather jackets.

Yep, it was definitely time to look up, definitely, not only for politeness issues, but she had also seen as much of these men’s zippers as she was going to.

‘Right...’ she thought ‘...this is it, no turning back. The Goodies T-shirt is probably a psycho anyway! Yeah, of course he is. Stealing souls! As if! Yep, no need to panic. They're just two normal fans, that’s all. Just look up and say hello. Easy! Just two normal fans. Oh shit…oh shit…’

Liz Harvey swallowed, took a deep breath, and looked up, only to be confronted with two bearded but gaping mouths. The leather jackets stood there, seemingly frozen to the spot, unable, or unwilling, to utter a single word.

‘They aren’t saying anything. Why aren’t they saying anything? Are they somehow tapping into my mind? What's going on? Why aren’t they saying anything? Are they sucking out my soul? How would I know? What does it feel like to have your soul stolen? Should I say something to them? Would that break the spell? Wait a minute, what spell? What the hell am I thinking? This is ridiculous! Nothing is happening! Is it? Wait, the mini leather jacket is going to say something. Oh shit. Is this it? Am I about to lose my soul? Is this it?’

“Oh, close your mouth Simon you look like a gold fish” said the taller of the leather jackets.
“Oops, sorry about that” giggled the mini version.
“Hi, Liz Harvey. Oh my god I am speaking to Liz Harvey! This is SUCH a thrill. My name is Joseph and this is my partner Simon” he said gesturing to his boyfriend.
“Hello! Sorry I couldn’t talk before but you have no idea how huge a fan I am of yours. Do you realize you have become a gay icon?”

Liz Harvey sat motionless and showed all the attributes of a fixated goldfish. She looked back and forth between the leather jackets, slowly registering what was happening. The Goodies T-shirt WAS a psycho, he was definitely a psycho! He wasn't Byron Maleny! He was nobody! He had just chosen this poor man and his partner at random! This was a cute same sex couple, not soul stealing wizards! She was safe. Her soul was safe. She was totally in the clear!

"You're - you're normal!"
"Um...yes" said the taller jacket uncertainly.
"You don't want to steal my soul?"
"I'm sorry?"
"You don't...I mean...you're normal!"
"Yes. But don't go saying that too often Liz dear, we will get a complex!"
“I…I love you!” She said just before bouncing out of her chair and giving them a hug.
“Oh my god! Simon can you believe this? I am being hugged by Liz Harvey! Alex Andrew’s mummy!” squealed one of the leather jackets.

After much laughing and the taking of the obligatory photographs, Liz Harvey’s manager came and dragged a much relieved writer away from the ecstatic leather jackets.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, Ms HARVEY WILL NOW BE HOLDING A PRESS CONFERENCE TO OFFICIALLY RELEASE THE LAST OF THE ALEX ANDREWS SERIES CALLED 'HOMEWARD BOUND' AND TO MAKE A VERY IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT” shouted the manager. “Go and grab your bag and let’s get this over and done with” she whispered quickly to her client.

Liz Harvey, now almost walking on air with sheer relief that the leather jacket was not a sadistic sorcerer, almost skipped over to her bag which was still sitting, where she had left it, beside her desk. As she walked towards the lectern that had been hastily erected, she quickly reached in to retrieve the original manuscript of ‘Homeward Bound’. Instead of a manuscript, however, she pulled out a set of keys and a used tissue. She stopped dead in her tracks and looked more closely. After some frantic searching she turned her bag upside down, spilling the contents onto the book store floor.

“What are you doing?” sing-songed her manager whilst standing in front of the mess to shield it from the cameras.
“I can’t find my manuscript!”
“What? Well…it must be here somewhere!”
“No, it's not! I left it here in my bag. It’s not here, IT'S NOT HERE!”
“Well so what? You don’t need it for your speech, just forget about it”
“But what if…”
“What?”
“What if someone has stolen it?
"Stolen it? What for?"
"Well…to…to…?”
“To what? Liz, we don’t have time for this okay? Now get up there and make your speech!”
“But…the guy in the Goodies T-shirt…”
“NOW!”

With a slight push Liz Harvey was sent stumbling towards the microphone. As she approached, spontaneous applause rang out in the book store. Cameras, both still and video, swung in her direction, causing the attached bright lights to momentarily blind her.

As she struggled to adjust her eyes and focus on the typed speech which was already on the lectern, she could feel her hands trembling and her heart galloping. She felt lost, completely lost. Ironically, this is just how she had earlier described the man who, seemingly, had stolen her manuscript. For she was certain it couldn't have been anyone else. The Goodies T-shirt was the only one, apart from her manager, who might have known where her manuscript was. She had to admit he was smart. The warning to beware of the leather jacket had caused her to place her concentration away from her bag. While she was focused ahead of her, he had somehow snuck back into the store and stolen the manuscript.

'What on earth does he want with it though?’ she mused. ‘Maybe he is Byron Maleny! Maybe he wants to get some tips on a comeback? Or maybe he wants to sell it to the highest bidder to make some much needed money! Actually, that seems about right, definitely the most logical reason why he would steal it. Yep, money, that's why he wants it! Money! Or ...maybe... maybe he wants to use it to steal my soul!' thought Liz Harvey, her panic increasing. Even now she could not rationally justify such a thought but that seemed, somehow, irrelevant. Her blood was pumping with terrorised adrenalin, whether this was logical or not!

"L-Ladies and Gentleman” Liz Harvey began, trying to place herself on automatic. She would get through this speech as quickly as she could and get back to the safety of her home. There she would curl up with a book and a glass of red and try to forget this day had ever happened. “Welcome to the launch of 'Homeward Bound', the-the last of the Alex Andrews trilogy” she continued.

As further applause sounded, she looked briefly around the room to take in her surrounds. She could not see the Goodies T-shirt anywhere, though his presence somehow tickled the back of her neck, as if she was shivering from a chill wind. She didn’t know how she knew, but he was close, she could feel it, very close.

‘Come on now Lizzie’ she thought to herself, as she tried one last time to think her way out of her predicament ‘The concept of anyone being able to steal a soul is just as ludicrous now as it always was. So this psycho said you could do it with an original manuscript. Okay, my manuscript is now gone. But so what? That doesn’t mean anything! It’s impossible. It just can’t happen. It’s unscientific is what it is. It just can’t happen. So why do I feel him so near to me then? Why do I feel like he is watching me? Why do I feel like he is reaching out to me! I have to get out of here! Just tell them I am finished. That’s all I have to do. Then I can go home’

“I-I would like to announce..."

A force, like nothing she had ever experienced, suddenly invaded Liz Harvey's body. From her navel to her temples she felt a pulling sensation attempting to drag her away from the podium. Her eyes began to roll and her head lolled backwards as this pull, this undeniable and unbeatable strength, began to extract her very essence from out of her body. In her mind, flashing colours and whirling clouds were colliding in a psychedelic mosh-pit. One second there emerged some clarity, the next, a grey shadowy haze.

“PLEASE!” Liz Harvey screamed inside her head as she felt herself being dragged further into confusion. “PLEASE STOP! PLEASE!”

A few seconds passed with no response and Liz Harvey’s body began to jerk in rhythmic motions as her soul was slowly extracted. She had reached a point of utter despair before a disembodied but clear and lucid voice came through the spinning, swirling sensations she was experiencing.

“Only you can stop this Ms Harvey, no one else”
“WHAT?”
“Only you can stop this.” reiterated the voice in a smug tone.
“But…I don’t…what do you mean?”
“Oh, you know what you must do, Ms Harvey. Don’t feign ignorance, it doesn’t become you!”
“But…I…”
“Do this small thing and you will be free!”
“But…NO!”
“You will not survive much longer. I have almost all of it now”
“NO!”
“It’s your choice, of course. If you have no desire to live…”
“I…I CAN’T”
“You may last another 30 seconds I think, if you are strong”
“I…I CAN’T…I…”
“Twenty seconds now”
“IT’S IMPOSSIBLE…I WON’T…YOU CAN”T MAKE ME…”
“Ten seconds Ms Harvey”
“I…I…”
“Five seconds!”
“No…”
“CHOOSE Ms HARVEY! NOW! LIFE OR DEATH! CHOOSE!”
“But…”
“CHOOSE!”
“ALRIGHT! She finally screamed “Alright!
“You will do it?”
“Yes… I-I will do it. Okay? I will do it! Just…PLEASE…STOP THIS!”

The force released its grasp as quickly as it had taken hold and Liz Harvey opened her eyes with a snap. She spanned the crowd in front of her, expecting to see concerned or bemused stares or confused gasps of horror. But none of them looked concerned, none of them looked confused. A couple of them even had smiles on their face. Whatever had just happened to her, Liz deduced, had not been seen by the assembled audience.

She reached out a shaking hand to grab a glass of water, bring it to her lips, and take a few sips to wet her dry throat. After placing the glass back on the lectern, she took three large deep breaths, attempting to somehow deal with what had just happened to her, and struggling against actually having to perform the task that she knew she must. It was such a price to pay, such a heavy, heavy price, but she knew she must pay it. If Liz Harvey were to remain a part of this world, she had to do it. It was simple as that. She had to do it!

“I…I would like to announce…that…”

Liz Harvey could see pads speeding towards pencils so that reporters could be ready for her retirement announcement. Despite all her secrecy, the rumour that she was going to cease writing novels had made it to the internet chat rooms weeks ago.

“That…that this will NOT be the final Alex Andrews novel”

Gasps erupted throughout the room, from her manager, firstly, then the press and finally the gathered fans. The two leather jackets exclaimed loudly in joy before hugging each other. After a few seconds questions began to come from every direction, one on top of the other, all asking the same thing; why? But Liz Harvey was not interested in answering these questions. She was just going to do what the voice had told her to do. Nothing more, nothing less.

“I-I intend to begin work on another trilogy shortly. I can also announce today that I intend to assist in the creation of a screen play for the first Alex Andrews movie which should be released early next year” she said as she continued ignoring the braying of the media. “Details of the next novel will be released in due time. Thank you for coming and I hope you enjoy ‘Homeward Bound’. Good afternoon”

She quickly left the microphone, pushed past an astonished manager who would now have to field questions for which she did not have an answer, and ran into a small storage room towards the back of the store. With a heavy sigh she sat down on a crate of non-fiction history books and buried her face in her hands. She stayed like that for five minutes before she felt a movement in the room.

“I know you are here” she said after a few seconds.

The man in the Goodies T-shirt stepped out of the shadows with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face.

“You made the right decision you know” he said softly as he threw the original copy of ‘Homeward Bound’ at her feet.

Liz Harvey leant back to display a tear streaked face and looked at the creature who had just destroyed her life.

“Who are you?” she finally asked.
“Does it matter?” he sighed.
“Yes!”

The Goodies T-shirt looked at the ground, gliding his foot across the floor underneath him in a kind of pendulum motion.

“Who are you?” Liz Harvey persisted. “Are you really Byron Maleny?’
“I was. Once. But that particular writer is no longer a part of this world. No longer inflicting his trash upon readers who relied on him to give them hope, and profundity. Byron Maleny failed Ms Harvey. He does not deserve your recognition”
“But…was it you who wrote those last few books? I mean, can you be blamed? Or was it…did you have your soul…”
“Ms Harvey, the world did not need Byron Maleny. The world needs you. That is all you need to know”
“The world needs me? The world? Well I don’t care about the world! Do you realise what you have made me do today? Any shred of happiness in my life was dependant on me getting out of this hell. Now you have forced me to stay!”
“Yes…well…It was necessary!”
“Necessary? NECESSARY!” shouted Liz Harvey, her curiosity quickly being replaced with fury “Why was it necessary? Why should I have to suffer? What have I done wrong? Have I hurt anyone? Have I killed anyone? Why can’t I have the same right to lead my own existence as everyone else? Why the FUCK should I have to be manipulated by YOU! You FAT SHIT! WHY CAN”T YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!”

The Goodies T-shirt waited till she was finished before continuing in a quite voice.

“You did nothing wrong, Ms Harvey. You caused joy, and escape, and happiness, and intellectual pursuits to flourish with your creation of a young boy trying to get back to his family. The world is a better place for Alex Andrews, Ms Harvey, and that is because you created him! But now, for what I deem to be quite selfish reasons, you want to keep him from the world! You want to have him to yourself, and allow the planet to slip, no matter how slightly, back into the mire of the human condition. You have the gift of transcendence, Ms Harvey, and that gift cannot and will not, be wasted”
“But…but I have no more to give!” she said desperately “Alex dies at the end of ‘Homeward Bound’! He makes it back just in time to tell his parents that he loves them before he has a fatal heart seizure. That’s it! IT’S OVER! Don’t you understand? OVER!”
“Oh no, it’s not! You have just told the world that it isn’t over, and the press will make sure that that information is passed on very quickly to the public”
“But…how…”
“That’s entirely up to you Ms Harvey. Maybe after his heart failure the doctors revive him? Maybe he goes back to heaven, a different heaven, and starts another journey back to his parents? Maybe the entire third book is actually a dream that he has while on his long journey back to his hospital bed? I have no idea Ms Harvey, but I know you will come up with something”

Liz Harvey once again placed her face in her hands. She stayed like this for about a minute, with nothing but silence and the disgusting presence of the Goodies T-shirt for company.

“How long?”
“I’m sorry?”
”How long will I have to keep writing these novels? When can I stop?”

The Goodies T-shirt smiled and straightened his back with a slight groan.

“Oh I don’t know. When the time is right, the time is right. It could be ten years, it could be thirty, you could be writing as you drop off to your final sleep. And while I have no control over when you can cease, I can assure of one thing, I will be there at the end. I have earned that right. That is certain!”
“Why you?”
“Because Ms Harvey, as I said in the line, I am your biggest fan!”

With a sigh the Goodies T-shirt donned an expensive suede jacket and moved slowly over to a door at the rear of the storage room.

“Please don’t feel too depressed Ms Harvey. You will achieve fame, fortune, adoration and respect. You would turn your back on these things, I am helping you to have them forever”
“But I don’t WANT them. I don’t want to write any more Alex Andrews novels! Don’t you understand? If I have to, I will eventually hate him! How can I write a sympathetic character when I hate him?”
“I am the last person to ask, Ms Harvey, but I am sure you will find a way”
“Oh you do, do you?”
“Oh yes, I am sure of it”

The Goodies T-shirt began to leave but stopped short upon hearing a sob from Liz Harvey.

“Why me?” she pleaded between great breaths and sniffs, her anger now replaced by abject and unadulterated despair. “Why did it have to be ME?”

The words that fell from the Goodies T-shirt's mouth were the last Liz Harvey would hear from him until thirty two years later. As he said them, a chill breeze blew in from the ajar door, allowing Liz Harvey one last sniff of freedom.

“Your talent, Ms Harvey, that’s why you. Your incredible, never-ending and inescapable talent!”

He opened the door and began to exit into the night.

“After all…” he shouted over his left shoulder as he moved away “They say you are the next Tolkien!”

 

Adrian Gibb
© Adrian Gibb 2005

Adrian was born in East London, South Africa, his family emigrating to Australia in 1978 and settling in Brisbane. After completing a Bachelor of Arts degree in 1993 at the University of Queensland, Adrian went on to do two years of postgraduate study, focusing on anicent religions, and a further four years of a law degree, before he and the law broke up due to irreconcilable differences. Since 1996 he has worked as a freelance editor on such diverse projects as educational textbooks, compilations of short stories and independent film scripts.

Adrian is married and has just welcomed a baby boy into the world. He also has two dogs and a healthy mortgage. He is currently doing a PhD degree and his greatest ambition is to see a book of his gathering dust on someone else's bookcase.

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