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Sometimes, Author thought back to his old writings. His old characters -most dead by now, though not all, of course. He couldn’t just kill off every character he used, after all, no matter how fun that was.
Sometimes he though back on how immature he had been. Really, who transports someone into a forest and takes their trousers away? The only thing that hadn’t changed was his handwriting, really. It was just as bad of a chicken-scratch as it always had been. Only he had to be able to read it after all, until he refined it with a typewriter. He did need a “clean” version for his publishers, after all.
He was better now. So much better. His control on his characters was better. He was more subtle with his control, so his characters were less likely to question their “own” actions. It did mean he had less interaction with them. Since they were cooperating better, he didn’t have to teach them how to cooperate. A pity, truly. He quite liked having a personal touch in his books. But well... he could also just always use himself in his books for a little, couldn’t he? He liked to in short stories, sometimes.
Trevor was making his way slowly through the forest. It was cold, his skin covered in goosebumps. The breeze made the branches of the trees surrounding him creak ominously. A shudder went down his spine. He needed to find shelter soon. His clothes clung to him, water still dripping from the fabric. The wind made it feel like it were freezing temperatures -and perhaps the temperatures would indeed drop in the night.
Distant sounds of wolves howling made the hair on the back of his neck stand. There was barely any light filtering in through the foliage above. Lost in anxious thoughts, Trevor tripped over a protruding root, yelping as he fell. He groaned as he pushed himself up again, face covered in dirt, branches and stones dug into his hands and knees. The world was out to get him, he just knew it. He didn’t know why it was, but it definitely was.
Dragging his steps, all he needed to find was a way out of this forest. Or maybe there would be a cabin -by this point even a dirty outhouse would be better than nothing. Anything to protect him from the elements.
And there, finally. He passed through the last rows of trees, and entered a clearing. And in this clearing, stood a cabin. It looked old. There were plants, flowers and vegetables, growing around it, climbing up its walls. Relief flooded Trevor’s system. Finally. If he was lucky, the cabin would have heat, or water even. Though he would just be happy about having a safe place for the night.
He froze when suddenly a light filled a window, flickering with the warmth of a fire. Eyes wide, terror filling him, as he heard the bushes behind him rustling.
The dull thud echoed through the empty forest, a smirk spreading on the attacker’s lips. Yes, sometimes reminiscing about the past could be bad. But sometimes, it made you appreciate a more active role in your life’s work.
Trevor awoke with a pounding headache. His wrists were tied behind his back, painfully tight. The sound of TVs’ static filled his head, and he wasn’t sure if there really were TVs around or if it was just inside of his head. Not that it mattered much, because soon after the light was flickering on, blinding Trevor.
“Ah, awake now, are we?”, a voice came from somewhere, and Trevor tried to look where it came from, who it belonged to, but couldn’t see anyone. “Who are you? Where am I?!”, he demanded to know, pulling at his restraints, no matter how futile it was. “Of course you wouldn’t know me. But I know all about you, Trevor.”, a man walked in front of him, circling around him, holding a baseball bat in his hands. Trevor felt like his blood was ice inside his veins. “Falling through that bridge really was unfortunate, wasn’t it? Look at the puddle you caused on my good wooden flooring!”.
Author gave a fake frown as he motioned at the ground, unable to help the smirk quickly spreading across his face again. “Now, my dearest Trevor. This is just another bad thing life is throwing at you, like it has the past... Oh what has it been, a couple days? Weeks? You’re not sure, are you?”, he chuckled, reaching out his free hand to gently trace along the other male’s jaw, until he could tip his chin up. “No worries. You’ll forget for certain once I’m done with you.”, he chuckled deeply, stepping back, gripping his bat with both hands, and pulling it back -ready to swing, and that hard. “A psychopath you stumbled upon in the forest. Just another bad thing life threw at you.”