Welcome to my new collection of original one-shots, short stories, and random plot bunnies!
Check out the original 'Star Shots' and the sequel 'Nova Shots' on my other accounts for more stories.
It's kind of a space theme... thus the 'comet'.
I sighed and absently glared at the file I was supposed to be editing, my fingers brushing apathetically over my laptop. Perched on the side of my desk, Novel's dark eyes laughed at me, apparently amused by my inability to get anything done. "Could you go away?" I muttered.
"I'd rather not," he whispered, leaning forwards and using an unfinished, clawed hand to tap a few random keys. "What are you working on, anyways?"
"Work," I said sourly, pulling my laptop out of his reach. The dirty talons put small scratches in my computer as they trailed along the plastic.
"You're always working." Novel wove his fingers behind his head and he rested his back against the dingy wall. Silver glittered in the depths of his eyes, his sharp teeth glistened in the afternoon sunlight, and his hair hung disheveled around his ears. "There are lots of fun things to do other than work."
Twisting around in my chair, I propped my feet up on the wall and settled my computer on my lap. I stared at the screen for a long minute before I bit my lip in frustration: I'd just read the same sentence four times. "I need to focus on this."
"I'm sure you do," Novel said, quiet laughter making his voice bubble and catch. "So focus."
I returned to my original sentiment: "Could you go away?"
A snicker echoed through the small room. He slipped off the edge of the desk and took a shadow-filled step closer. Arms folded and elbows came to rest on my shoulders, his chin propped on my head.
"Not helping," I murmured.
He hummed under his breath and leaned forwards, his claws clicking oddly as he typed. When the dusty remains of my novel appeared on the screen, I felt him smile. "Just for a few minutes," he breathed with a mesmerizing purr, his ink-scented breath tickling my ear.
I rolled my eyes and pushed an elbow into his stomach, forcing him to move a few steps backwards. "No. I'm waiting for that writing thing to work on-"
"You're being unnecessarily evil," he interrupted with a scowl, prowling around my small apartment. Words and phrases swirled around his half-finished form like demon's wings. "I thought I was the evil one of this relationship."
"I wrote you," I muttered, shutting the lid of my laptop and turning my attention towards my creation. "You're nothing more than an extension of my imagination. You're only as evil as I am."
Snorting and whispering under his breath, Novel stopped by the shelf and picked up one of the books, quietly paging through it. I knew him well by this point – we'd been dubiously calling each other roommates for nearly two years and I'd watched him grow from a speck of an idea into a full-fledged plot. There was a quiet longing in his face and a sharpness to his movements that he couldn't hide from me.
I sighed and set my computer on my desk, letting my feet fall from their perch. "What are you muttering about this time?"
"I'm calling the zombie plot bunnies from their hiding spots to plague your dreams," he said sourly. "May you wake up full of ideas and have no time to write them."
I couldn't help the small laugh, shaking my head and turning to look out the window at the sunshine. It was a gorgeous July day – far too beautiful to be spent inside. "I have to do work…" I trailed off, picking up my journal and fluttering through the still-empty pages. They sang tempting songs, but I bypassed them and stopped on a dog-eared sheet near the beginning.
The air in the room seemed to thicken, the walls closing in on me as my fingers wandered over the smudged words. A shadow spilled across the page and I looked up. Silver sparks of inspiration glittered in Novel's indigo-ink eyes and snakes of unused plot lines coiled just under the surface.
He pressed something into my hand, his claws gently scraping my palm as he released his treasure. "I like this new plan," he whispered. "Please?"
My fingers curled tightly around my favorite pen. I knew the ink would flow just right and the cheap plastic grip felt perfect in my hand. Yet I still wavered; I needed to get some work done.
Outside, a bird trilled a wonder-filled song to the puffy clouds and I lost the battle. A smile crossed my face, eerily resembling the one Novel usually wore. "Alright. You win."
I pushed myself out of the chair as Novel dissolved into the starlit dust he was made of, my pen tucked behind my ear and my half-finished novel secure in my hands. The sunshine was calling.
Uploaded July 9, 2010
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