Danny Phantom: Stories of the Dead

Ghostwriter

Ghostwriter:

'He picked up the girl and spun her around. For the first time in his life, he got to see his daughter's smile.'

James Holland, also known being a ghostwriter for all of his works published under an anonymous name, scowled as he wrote. Being a ghostwriter, one that no one knew the true identity of, gave him a sense of comfort. The book he was currently writing, however, was going to be the first under his real name and therefore, it would his best yet.

"No, no, no, this isn't right."

He back spaced the whole sentence and started over. There was a small lamp for his source of light, his laptop, lots of miscellaneous papers, crumbled papers, chewed up pencils, old pens, a few picture frames with pictures of his sister and their parents and her family, and more. Around his cluttered desk were lots of crumbled up paper, an overflowed trashcan, and empty takeout containers.

Besides his desk, there was only a bookshelf and a printer in his small office room. It was technically just the extra room of his small apartment, but it worked all right for the job. Though, his bedroom, kitchen, and living room weren't in much better shape. His clothes, crumbled papers, trash, and books were all over his apartment. Lack of a feminine touch not only left his apartment very messy, but dull and dark.

It wasn't his fault that he had no time for a relationship, not when there were things to write and books to read. He ran a hand through his hair and then pushed up his glasses. Hearing his stomach growl at three in the morning, he sighed.

He saved the document and shut his laptop, packing it into his bag. He wrapped his scarf around his neck and put on his purple jacket, grabbed the bag, and then headed out.

"Still working on that book," Jade asked.

Jade was the waitress at the café. Her long red hair was always pulled into a bun and her bright green eyes shined under her glasses. She wore the standard uniform of the café- yellow dress and a white apron with her nametag. She was used to seeing James Holland every night at the oddest hours.

"Yes," he answered crisply, "I'll have my usual."

"Of course."

She brought him a scone and tea as he sat down at a table. He took out his laptop and started to write as he eat and drank.

"You know," Jade said, "You're lucky this is a 24 hour café, but you better go home and get some rest."

"No time to sleep, almost done," James didn't even stop typing as he answered.

The sound of fast clicking filled their ears, but to James it brought comfort, to Jade- it brought slight annoyance. Finally, she gave up and continued to work. It was already six in the morning with the sun not even up in the sky; James had been here for the entire night, writing on his book.

"Done," James cheered, "Finally! This will be my best one yet!"

"You can use our printer to print it out," Jade offered from behind the counter.

James gave a nod of acknowledgement and printed out all 500 pages of the book. When he was done, he shut the laptop down, packed it up, and headed out with the 500 pages in his hand. He needed to go see his publisher after all. It would be his best book yet and he couldn't wait- no, he was too excited. He knew it would be a hit.

However, as he ran out side, he made a mistake. He didn't pay attention to the oncoming traffic. The last thing he saw was the bight headlight of an eighteen-wheeler.

People cried out in horror as his body lay there in the middle of the street. His laptop was crushed into ruins and the 500 pages were scattered- ruined by the dirt, the puddles from yesterday's rain, or from being soaked his blood. His greatest masterpiece yet- never to be read- it was his worst fear that followed him to the grave and beyond.