Disclaimer: As I'm sure you are all fully aware by now, none of this belongs to me. However, we've gotta keep saying it so we don't end up like the Honey Monster! :D
The small man was sprawled out on the floor, his raven black hair matted with the pool of blood gathering by the gunshot wound in his head, his big blue eyes dull as the life drained out of him - if only things had turned out differently, if only.
Howard looked down at his handy work. He was so proud. He'd finally done it. He'd been planning it ever since the zoo and now it was complete.
"Howard." gasped Vince in a horse, strained voice. "How could you?"
'Oh, here we go' thought Howard. "How could I, what?" asked Howard irritably.
"Kill me." Vince exclaimed pointing at the piece of paper.
"That's not you." Howard insisted, taking the perfect sentence from his type writer.
"Raven black hair? Big blue eyes? That's me!"
"It's not you! It's a character."
"Called?"
"Prince" mumbled Howard
"Sorry. I couldn't hear that." Vince was now tapping his foot angrily.
"Prince."
"Prince!" yelled Vince "That's virtually my name! Who kills him?"
"What?!"
"Who shoots him?"
"I don't know yet," sighed Howard "It's the first line of the story. I haven't written the rest. I'm going to send it to Hamilton Cork, d'you think he'll like it?"
"No." Vince said angrily storming out of the room "He'll hate it!"
"You don't know anything about writing." Howard called after him, re-reading his sentence and smiling to himself, Hamilton Cork would love it. He could just imagine it 'Howard Moon - author'. Everyone would want to be his friend. People clambering around to try and find out what would happen in his books. That's how it was meant to be, people would probably pay Vince less attention, but that couldn't be helped.
Howard scrolled the page down until he could hold the sentence in his hand. He put it in envelope and scrawled the address on the front. He strolled into the living room proudly holding his envelope above his head. He was angry to find Vince splayed out on the sofa completely ignoring the taller man.
"Wish me luck then." said Howard indignantly.
"You're going to post a letter." Vince groaned "Why d'you need luck?"
"Shut up." Howard said angrily. He was still annoyed at Vince for saying that Hamilton Cork would hate his sentence. "You don't understand anything about being a writer." Howard waited for a moment expecting some snappy comeback, but it never came. Vince just led on the sofa groaning loudly and moaning about a headache. Howard assumed his hangover was kicking and chose to ignore Vince when he asked for a Paracetemol.
"Yeah, I'll see you later." said Howard, walking down the stairs and out of the flat.
It took Howard a while to get to the post box and back and by the time he'd returned Vince was on the floor of the living room clutching at his head and rolling round in pain. He was covered in cold sweat and was paler than normal too. Howard was suddenly struck with panic, this clearly wasn't a hang over.
"Vince." he called desperately shaking the small mans shoulders "Vince." the panic faltering his voice. "Vince, what's wrong?"
"My…head." Vince gasped curling into a tight ball pushing his hand into his temples in a feeble attempt to relieve the white hot pain that was searing through his brain. "It… hurts. Ohmygod. Howard… Howard?"
Howard grabbed Vince's hand to stop him hurting himself further and sat him up against the sofa. "It's okay, I'm here Vince."
"Howard… I'm really tired." moaned the smaller man the panic leaving his voice. "It's getting better, I think I'm going to sleep it off."
"I think you should try and stay awake." Howard said anxiously, shaking the smaller man's shoulders gently, but it was no use, Vince simply couldn't keep his eyes open and he was soon fast asleep his face screwed up with obvious pain but there was nothing Howard could do. Feeling helpless Howard lifted Vince carefully onto the sofa and put a blanket over him trying to warm his ice cold body. He couldn't understand what was wrong. Vince had been fine moments before but now he looked as though he was on the brink of death. 'No' thought Howard 'I can't think like that.'
Howard sat with Vince for a while, but he soon found Vince's motionless body to much to bear he decided to take his mind off it by writing some more of his story.
He sat down behind his typewriter and chewed on his fingernails thoughtfully. How was he going to continue with this story? How was it going to come about that Vince got killed? Prince! He'd meant Prince. He decided to start with Prince living in a small flat with some friends. 'That's good.' thought Howard 'simple, people can relate to it.'
Prince had started life in south London with a head full of dreams and a passion for electro.
Rubbish!
Prince was born in 1973 to a…
Biography!
Prince was a fun loving and popular man who was popular with his friends and…
Sounds like an obituary!
Prince danced into the room smiling and happy, blissfully unaware of how his day would end.
'That's better' thought Howard. 'I can work with that.'
He was on-
"Hey Howard!" cried Vince bursting through the door and ruffling the taller mans hair irritatingly.
"You look better." frowned Howard curiously, wondering how the smaller man could suddenly be fine after looking so ill moments before.
"I feel better." he smiled, twirling around until he stumbled into a nearby chest of draws. "In fact, I feel really good like nothing bad is going to happen ever again."
"Good." said Howard still a little confused by Vince's apparent miracle recovery. "Now, leave me alone. I'm working."
"Oh yeah." grinned Vince "How is 'Prince'?"
"He's alive… for now." Howard smiled "But that could all change if he continues to bug a talented author."
"Blissfully unaware of how his day would end." Vince read slowly ignoring (or not noticing) Howard's subtle threat. "Oooooo. How's his day going to end?"
"Did you not read the first sentence?!"
"Yeah!" Vince said "It's was horrible! Matted hair. Poor 'Prince'." Vince looked so sincere, Howard had to struggle not to laugh.
"Can you leave me alone now please?" Howard asked returning to his typing.
"Fine." sulked Vince "I'm gonna go down the Velvet Onion, see if Fossil can get me a slot for tonight."
"Alright, see you later."
"See ya." Vince said, positively skipping out of the room.
'Right' thought Howard 'No distractions. On with the book.'
Prince danced into the room smiling and happy, blissfully unaware of how his day would end. He chewed carefully on a marshmallow watching as his flatmate, Henry, flicked through the works of Dylan Thomas and William Shakespeare.
'Hey Henry! Whatcha doin'?'
'Something you wouldn't understand' Henry had replied as gently as he could 'I'm a man with potential Vince…
Prince, not Vince!
'I'm a man with potential Prince. A jazz pioneer. An author, a world weary connoisseur. A maverick.'
'Oh yes!' Howard thought happily 'I like Henry. He's a real man. A man's man.'
'No you're not!' laughed Prince 'You're a shopkeeper in a second hand shop. If any ones got potential it's me.'
Yes, that sounded like some deluded thing Vince would say. Prince. Sounds like something Prince would say.
'Are you writing a poem?' Henry inquired.
'No,'
'Then how are you a man with potential?'
'I'm a rock star in the making. Are you writing a poem?'
'I would be if some ponce wasn't hanging around annoying me.'
'Who's that then?'
'You. Clear off!'
'Oh right okay.'
'No, Prince wouldn't leave when asked. He'd stick around becoming more annoying. I can completely understand why a troubled genius like Henry would finally snap.' thought Howard as he continued writing the story.
"Vincey!" cried Bob Fossil as Vince walked through the door to the office. "How are you? Sit down."
"There's no seat, Mr Fossil."
"Well, sit on my lap."
Vince raised an eyebrow.
"Do it!"
"Okay, okay." Vince said sitting down uncomfortably and munching on a marshmallow.
"Where d'you get that flump?" Fossil asked suspiciously. "I didn't see it a second ago."
"Dunno." Vince said, staring baffled at the sugary treat, then he shrugged and took another bite.
"Anyway, Vincey. What can I do for you?"
"Ummm, well I was hoping for a gig tonig… Mr Fossil? What are you doing?"
"Huh?" asked Fossil removing his hands from Vince's shoulders. "Oh that. That was an exotic massage…from… Greenland."
"Greenland?"
"Yeah. It's based on a technique that helps you milk killer whales."
"Right." said Vince beginning to feel a little uneasy "So, have I got the gig tonight?"
"What…uh, yeah! It's yours."
"Oh thanks Mr Fossil." said Vince jumping up and walking towards the door.
"Wait, don't you want to hang out for a while?"
"Umm, not really."
"Come one. You're my baby blue blanket baby. It'll be fun like Dolphins on speed. Two guys, out on the town. We could go dancing!"
"No thanks Mr Fossil. I've gotta go rehearse." Vince said legging it down the corridor.
"Vincey! Come back."
Vince shut the door to the club and lent against the wall panting heavily from his short run.
"What a nutter." Vince panted heavily. Suddenly, he collapsed to the floor, pain shot through his body. He felt as though he was being kicked repeatedly in the stomach.
Prince was bent double holding at his stomach painfully. How he'd got into this predicament he was unsure but as the burly body guard beared down on him, threatening to punch him again, he wished he was anywhere else.
'Get out of my club' snarled the body guard 'and don't you come back.'
Meanwhile, back in the flat, Henry put down his pipe and brushed his large moustache before going to pick up the receiver of the ringing phone.
'Hello'
'Hey Henry' came the sheepish voice 'I've got in a bit of trouble. You don't fancy picking me up, do you?'
The genius looked at his poem longingly 'Sorry Prince I'm working on something important, you'll have to sort this out yourself.'
'But if you don't pick me up this big bloke's gonna kill me, or something.''Don't be so melodramatic' scorned Henry 'I'll see you soon.'
'But Henry, You've gotta come and pick me up please I…' Prince gabbled finally cut off by the dial tone. 'Henry.' he pleaded desperately to no one in particular.
'Ooooo, gripping' he thought, failing to stop the smile spreading across his face.
"Now," he said out loud, stretching his fingers. "Let's see what happens next."
Just as his fingers brushed the keys the phone rang.
RING RING
"Naboo, can you get that?" he called, trying to concentrate on his story
RING RING
"Naboo!"
RING RING
"Argh!" cried Howard standing up and stomping into the living room to see Naboo sat inches away from the phone.
"Oh, thanks Howard." smiled Naboo as the taller man picked up the receiver, "that was starting to get on my nerves."
It took all of Howard strength not to whack Naboo with the phone, but instead he took a deep breath and said
"Hello."
"Howard Moon." came the familiar American drawl.
"Oh, hello Mr Fossil. How are you?"
"I'm okay. You?"
"Well, actually now you menti-"
"Yeah, I don't care, I was trying to be polite. Anyway, I've just found the beautiful Vince Noir rolling round on the pavement in front of my club like a limb-less sausage dog. I said I'd take care of him but he insists he wants you to pick him up."
"Why can't you pick him up?"
"Not off the floor you idiot. He's sat in my office. Bring your van and come and take him home!"
Dial tone.
For a moment, Howard considered not going to get Vince and continuing with his story but he just couldn't leave Vince at the mercy of Bob Fossil.
Soon, Howard was helping Vince hobble up the stairs to the flat.
"I don't know what's wrong" winced Vince as he lent heavily against Howard. "It's going off a bit now but it felt like I got smacked in the stomach with a baseball bat. D'you think I've got appendicitis?"
"No." Howard said, smiling at Vince's over reaction.
"In that case d'you think it's got something to do with that marshmallow I ate?"
"What Marshmallow?" said Howard allowing Vince to slide from his grip, falling onto the sofa.
"Dunno, it just sorta appeared in my hand when I was at Fossil's."
"Did he give it to you?" Howard asked, he'd always been a little worried about Fossil's fascination with Vince.
"I don't think so." Vince puzzled. "No, he was as surprised as I was. Like I said it just sorta appeared."
"Appeared?" Naboo piped up suddenly interested
"yes!" exclaimed Vince, wincing as his stomach burned at his outburst.
"Out of nowhere?"
"Yes!"
"And you ate it anyway?" .
"Well, yeah. It was yummy." reasoned Vince.
"Wait there." Naboo sighed, bustling off to his room, returning moments later with a large spell book and weird piece of plastic that looked like a Frisbee.
"Lie down Vince." Naboo said, more gently than was usual for the tiny shaman. Vince did so and Naboo placed the Frisbee on his stomach and began to chant in a low voice. "Is that better Vince?"
Vince nodded "A bit."
"Okay," he said placing a hand on Vince's forehead "Well, it's not food poisoning. And you're not ill. I think you just need some rest. Howard," he continued "Can I have a word?"
Howard followed Naboo into his room.
"Where's my typewriter?" Naboo asked with an accusatory tone.
"What?!" Howard asked in disbelief "Who cares? What's wrong with Vince?"
"Where's my typewriter?" Naboo persisted.
"In my room."
"Why is it there?"
"I've been writing on it."
"Oh for god sake Howard!" Naboo yelled.
"What?"
"It's a magic typewriter you ball bag! It's playing out your character through Vince."
"Oh no." gasped Howard, the colour draining from his face.
"What?" asked Naboo suspiciously.
"I killed him."
"What?"
"Vince, Prince. My character I mean. I killed him."
"Please tell me you're joking." pleaded Naboo. Howard shook his head, eyes wide. "Ok," Naboo continued, remaining calm "how many people have read it?"
"I don't know, me, Vince and a few others."
"How many others?"
"I don't know" Howard sighed "I've sent it to Hamilton Cork."
Naboo flopped to the floor dramatically.
"Naboo?" Howard said quietly. "Why does it matter how many people have read it? What's going to happen?"
"I don't know." Naboo sighed from the floor. "I mean, any story needs to be read and believed to make it come to life. The more people who believe in your sentence the more real it will become. So I guess, if it's rubbish Vince'll be fine. Was it rubbish?"
"Umm, I didn't think so." sighed Howard "I thought it was good. What will happen if Hamilton Cork reads it and likes it and shows someone else and they like it and they show it to someone else and they like it and show it to someone and they like it and they show it to someone else and…"
"Howard!" yelled jumping to his feet and slapping Howard hard "You're being hysterical. Snap out of it!"
"Thanks." Howard said holding his face, "I needed that… Oh god Naboo, what if he dies? I'll have killed him."
"Okay, okay. Calm down. Did you post the line?"
"Yeah."
"So it'll be two days before it reaches Cork anyway."
"Well, no. I posted it first class. It'll be there in the morning."
"Howard!" Naboo shouted throwing a his turban on the floor in an uncharacteristic burst of anger. "Well, you'd better get driving and make sure nobody reads it."
"What about Vince?"
"I'll do my best to break the bond between your sentence and him, but I can't promise anything. Oh and Howard when you get that sentence make sure you don't destroy it. You have to get it back here and erase in properly."
"Okay."
Okay, that's all i've got so far.
I've been writing it today whilst watching the Olympics (because I got a bit bored in between events that Britain were in) and I didn't want to update my other story so I thought I'd write this. I'm not sure whether or not to continue with it because it was just a sorta boredom killer that I haven't entirely thought through, but i'll happily carry on writing if people think it's worth it.
Also, I'm not sure if this works the way i hoped it would - your opinions would be very much appreciated.
Anyway, this is me shamefully begging for reviews :D
Thanks for reading Sisi...xx