Since she was sitting forward Chandice watched as the cityscape outside her window shimmered and shifted, becoming once again the vision she’d seen earlier as the beautiful but busy landscape became twisted, broken, and barren.
“That’s a pitiful sight,” she said, taking a sip of her drink.
“It’s your home, not mine,” the voice replied.
“Is that where I’m headed then, when this life all done?”
The voice chuckled again, and the image shifted back to the city she recognized, “You humans have such a limited view. Heaven and hell are just words. What either place can show you is so much more.”
“I think I heard something like that in a movie once,” she said, nodding as she focused on her screen.
“Who do you think is responsible for that?”
“I don’t know the screenwriter’s name so I couldn’t tell you,” Chandice replied, “But I get your gist.”
“I want you to write a part of my story.”
That dark chuckle rolled out from behind her, and despite her lack of shame Chandice still felt her cheeks redden as she heard the absolutely nasty implication in that sound.
“It would take more humans than I care to speak to longer than any one of you might have to live to write my whole story, but I want you to write a chapter, or an act.”
The voice sounded perplexed as he spoke again, “And then, what? You’ll write a chapter and I’ll use it in the story of my existence.”
“Am I writing this for an anthology, a series, a chapter book, what?”
“You’re writing it for me, does it matter what I want it for?”
“Well, kind of,” Chandice said with a shrug, “Every writer wants to know that their writing is going to be doing something and meant for something so it’s kind of pertinent to tell the writer just what the job is for so that they can model it to what the people or the person needs. Otherwise you’re just asking for my opinion on the page and to be honest you don’t want that.”
“Oh, and why not?” She could sense the menace in the voice once again, but her mouth was already running and once it was open it was hard to stop.
“If you’re who I think you are, and even if you’re not, those like you have been given kind of a bad reputation for a long time and it’s become habit for writers like myself and many others to give you a continued reputation on paper that’s less than satisfactory most of the times since it paints you as a-mmph!”
Her lips suddenly pressed together without her consent as she tried to open her mouth but found that she couldn’t.
“How does anyone put up with you?”
Chandice just shrugged before raising her glass, only to groan as she found that she couldn’t even part her lips to take a drink. Her one thought at that moment was that whoever the voice was, he wasn’t a very nice guy.
(to be continued)