(Non)Fiction

Most critics numbered Stacie among the most accomplished authors in print. Her books were inspired by many classic works of literature such as Tom Sawyer and Moby Dick as well as more modern books such as The Golden Compass and the Harry Potter series. She herself inspired a cavalcade of young neophytes. On her funeral bed, however, none would remember her for her literary accomplishments
Now retired due to a complete lack of motivation, Stacie slowly crept through the dusty aisles of the library. She wondered what had happened to the time when there were kids sitting in the children’s section listening to the sweet voice of the old librarian reading out of a poetry book. There wasn't even a children’s section anymore. Stacie actually felt sorry for the kids at home playing their Gameboys and their PlayStations with absolutely no interest in reading. Now in the horror section she found a tragedy called Jonathan, an autobiographical work. She quickly checked the book out and sped home to read it. It's a shame she couldn't use her head behind her insanity to spot that what was happening was no coincidence.
In 2005, Stacie wrote a book about a fictional character named Dominique. It just so happened that there was a person named Dominique whose wife that he's been married to for so many loving years divorced him in the same year the book about a crushing divorce was published. Dominique was stalking Stacie for the past five years, only thinking one thing to himself, “How can you take someone I love from me without experiencing love your own damn self?”
Stacie sat down on her small, expensive sofa sitting by a 72” plasma screen TV, reading this book about horrible things happening to Jonathan. It was hard for Stacie to imagine this man writing these things about his wife and kids. This made her curious. How does it feel to write something like this? She sat at her desk with a custom-built PC on it and started to type.
She started writing a short intro and quickly jumped to something about her. She looked at her dog and wrote his death in the story. Something must have passed through her head as she wrote that as she instantly needed to go to sleep. The next morning was bright and shiny, and Stacie felt somewhat less fallen apart then yesterday. That all changed as soon as she went into her kitchen to see her dog motionless on the floor, not responding to anything. The stalker had taken his revenge, but how far would he go?
Stacie spent most of the time that day lying in bed, thinking to herself and crying. She tried to cajole herself into feeling somewhat better, but couldn’t. Suddenly she got a phone call. She was afraid to answer. Who could it be? The police? The animal protective service? Maybe her best friend? She picked up,
“Hello?” Stacie said with a shy tone.
It was the librarian.
“Hey, your books overdue,” the librarian said. She sounded like she was eating Cheetos.
“Sorry, ma’am, I-I’ll return it today,” Stacie said with a sigh of relief.
“You’d better, you don’t want to know about the last person who kept an overdue book.”
“O-ok, sorry.”
Stacie walked down to her yellow Camaro and opened her unlocked door. Oh god, why did she forget to lock her car last night? Anyone could have stolen her stuff. She looked around carefully, maybe for a good 10 to 20 minutes to make sure everything was still in place. Now that she felt somewhat secure, she took out her keys and started her car. She listened to its engine for a while. That seemed to calm her down a little. Finally, she started driving down to the library. It was only 10 minutes but to her it felt like hours. As she backed out of her driveway her new neighbor looked at her in a surprised expression. It was only because of her car but Stacie thought she knew about her book. She continued down to the library, noticing many people staring at her in almost the same expression. They all know, how do they all know? Who told them? Why would they tell them? All of this was rushing through her head as the wheels of a cement truck squealed and the noise of pedestrians when it hit her. Well, when the cement truck hit her, at least.
“You’re lucky to be alive Ms. Camion,” The doctor said, looking at some charts.
“More like unlucky,” Stacie mumbled.
“What was that?”
“Oh, nothing, just thinking about my best friend and how she’s going to react to this.”
“I see… well, you’re going to have to take these pills for a few weeks. They will make your blood react with the excess concrete we couldn’t remove that’s floating in your blood. These pills should remove all that.”
“Alright then.”
“You should be checked out by tomorrow.“
“I’m so happy you’re alive I don’t know what I’d do without you!” Stacie’s best friend Sammy screamed, bursting in through the door.
“Yeah, I’m glad I’m OK too. Now uh, I think I need some rest, I *cough* am very *cough* tired,” Stacie said.
“Oh, of course!”
Now back at home from the hospital, Stacie started to become insane. She would check out her window every 5 minutes looking for someone spying on her. Every time there was nobody to be found. Dominique had already taken his revenge and is now far away from Stacie. The only thing left to kill her was… her.
Stacie became more and more scared and depressed until suddenly she had some sort of “brilliant” plan. She found that file on her computer with the tragedy she was working on and wrote that she would have a heart attack in the morning. She thought if there was someone out to get her there’s no way they can make her have a heart attack. Stacie slept well that night. She woke up the next morning, went over to her coffee maker, and realized last night that she forgot to take her pills that would make the cement in her body go away. A small piece of cement flowed through her bloodstream and into her heart at that moment, stopping it forever.