Alive by Night

An author overhears a conversation between pages of his story.

Trystan was sure he’d locked the gate and barred the doors, but the quiet sounds of sobbing coming from his office shattered his belief. His body froze as fear coursed through his veins. The delayed tingle of adrenaline freed his limbs and he shrugged off the mounting anxiety to tiptoe his way to the bedroom door. He paused and listened.  The voice was definitely a woman’s and the sniffling was accompanied by sounds of choking. Alarmed, he took the last few brave steps and switched on the lights of the adjacent room.

He scanned the room for signs of life, but there were none. It was as empty as he’d left it before he’d turned in for the night. Becoming increasingly disturbed, he walked the length and breadth of the room, trying to find the distressed lady, but it appeared as if she didn’t exist. He rubbed his eyes to shake off the sleepiness. The room went quiet for a minute and he could hear his pulse quicken. Just as it reached a crescendo, the crying started again, interspersed with high-pitched wails this time. Trystan backed off and pinched himself, but the scene in front of his eyes didn’t change.

He made his way to the writing table and sank into his chair, trying to figure out a better course of action. That is when he became aware of a second voice that spoke in soothing tones, a complete contrast to the hysterical woman’s.

“You will always belong with us, Page 53. I can’t imagine why the author crumpled you up!”

“R-r-reall-y?”

“Yes. And there is life beyond the confines of the dustbin, trust me. A better life, I’ll bet. No need to cry, dear.”

The weeping shut off abruptly. “That’s easy for you to say, Title Page. This will never happen to you.”

“Life is unpredictable, 53. You never know when our creator might suddenly feel disheartened and throw out the entire manuscript. I’ve heard rumours that it has happened before. My fate is just as uncertain as yours. You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”

“I don’t understand at all. 52 and 54 aren’t here with me. I thought I was fitting in well, you know? I’ll admit I have flaws, but am I beyond repair?”

“Don’t measure your worth by the writer’s standards. If you ask me, I think you’re perfect.” There was a crinkling of paper.

Reviews

[The Skyrat]

This story has a fun premise, and the idea behind the ending is perfect. I like that the pages have voices. Authors say that their stories are their children, right? Children cry, they whine, they b***h, they laugh... Why shouldn't a page from a story also act as such if that story is indeed the author's child? There are quite a few problems with this story, but I think they can be overcome. First off, the first two paragraphs are wordy, man. I'd love to see it simplified. "The delayed tingle of adrenaline freed his limbs and he shrugged off the mounting anxiety to tiptoe his way to the bedroom door." That's clunky. I think you mean to say, "Trystan choked back his fear and tiptoed to his bedroom door." Reread your first two paragraphs out loud to yourself or a willing friend if you can. Consider what you're trying to convey and ask yourself, "Am I being clear? Will someone who lives outside of my own head understand this? Is there some horse s**t here that needs to be clarified?" The dialogue that follows those two paragraphs is almost free from horse s**t trappings, so I have faith that you can craft an opening that draws the reader in. Second, because the dialogue between the pages is great, I would love to see more. Who are these pages? What drives them besides their will to live as a part of the book? Do they have other desires, conflicts with each other, or conflicts with their creator? Third, I love love love that the author is referred to as the "creator," which alludes to him as the pages' God. Do something more with that! Finally, the ending is a great idea but not fully formed. Don't give it up so easy or so quick. Anyways, I want you to know that I took the time to share my thoughts because I dig what you're up to. Good luck!