A Writer's Harem: Inspiration Strikes by Tyme O. L

Author:Tyme, O. L.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-09-20T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

He sat on the couch for the rest of the day in a stupor. There was nothing to eat but the lasagna, but he couldn’t even think about eating that, not after what he’d done. He felt so sick. He couldn’t even write anymore, couldn’t even think about writing. He had placed the lid back on the typewriter and put the pages in the desk drawer, trying to forget about them. But he could still feel them, hear them calling, like the shameful beating heart buried under the floorboards, a reflection of his own guilt.

They were good, really fucking good.

But he knew that they belonged to a story that would now never be told.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Jack’s stomach turned. He had been waiting for this all day. Whether it was the landlord here to kick him out, the police investigating a sexual pervert exposing himself to other residents, or simply Morika here to chew him out, he knew it wouldn’t be fun.

Whoever it was knocked again as Jack, hungry and lethargic, pulled himself up from the couch and shuffled over to the door.

“Hey Morika,” he said as he opened the door, bracing himself for what came next, “I can explain…”

She marched into the apartment without so much as a word. Even in his exhausted state, he noted how amazing she was, her ass tucked into a pair of tight shorts, her smooth legs on display, her breasts constrained by a tight-fitting t-shirt.

“I spoke to Asami,” she said, looking into the apartment as he stood by the door.

“Yeah,” he said, closing the door, “I thought you might have.”

“She said you answered the door, in the nude.”

“I forgot…” he stammered, “I was in the middle of…”

She turned to face him, a great big smirk on her face.

“That’s freakin’ hilarious,” she said, laughing heartily, her breasts bouncing as her body rocked.

“It is?” he said, trying to work out if she was being sarcastic, or if her laughter contained a jolt of bitterness which he was having trouble detecting.

“Of course,” she said, walking up to him and slapping him on the arm, “she said she nearly dropped the lasagna. That was all her by the way.”

“Oh, right,” he said, watching as she walked back into the apartment, “like I say, I didn’t mean to.”

“Of course you didn’t,” she said, matter-of-factly.

“What does that mean?” he asked, unsure if he wanted to hear the answer.

“You’re a writer,” she said, as if surprised she had to explain it to him, “you guys are all a bit out there.”

“We are?”

“Sure you are,” she said, “you spend your lives creating fantasy worlds where you take the role of a God, playing with your characters like puppets.”

“It’s a bit more like I just watch and write down what they’re doing,” he said, feeling the need to defend his creative process.

“Sure thing,” she said, “but at the end of the day, it all comes from you, right? What you write is a reflection of you, or at least, some part of you.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.