Help From My Friends

Part 1

Kevin let out a deep breath as he threw his bag onto the couch. He pulled a box of frozen pasta out of the freezer, peeled back the lid and shoved it in the microwave. He took a beer out of the fridge and popped the cap off. He had to spend the last couple hours of his life doing parent teacher interviews.

He opened up his bag, pulled out his stack of unmarked Othello essays and his mail. He threw the essays onto the broken stove and rifled through his mail. He had thrown all of the bills on top of the essays before he saw an envelope with a blue crescent in the corner. The H and G on the envelope stood for Harold Gemini: the publishing company he had been sending his novels to.

Kevin's hands were shaking as he tore apart the envelope. He could feel the bile rising in the back of his throat as he unfolded the letter. His eyes scanned across the page. The letter started the same way they all did.

Thank you for sending us your manuscript, Mr. Boyeln, the letter said. Unfortunately, your story is not what we are currently looking for at the moment.

Kevin did not have to read the rest of the letter to know what it said. They would go on to apologize and point out faults in his novel. Sweating in the Shadows had consumed the last ten months of his life, and they didn't understand it.

He crumpled the letter in his hands. A scream ripped through his throat and he fell down onto his knees. He took in a deep breath before letting out another scream. The warm tears rolled down his cheeks.

They've reduced me to tears? he thought.

Kevin threw the crumpled up letter across the kitchen and collapsed on his side. This was his ninth failed novel. He spent over three years working on his first novel Hidden in the Fog. When he read the rejection letter he thought about how most famous authors are rejected at first. It encouraged him to try again, but all he ever got was rejection letters. He was going to have to spend the rest of his life teaching a class full of hormonal teenagers.

"Kevin." A hand brushed a curl off of his forehead. "Don't let them do this to you."

His eyes flew open and he saw a girl kneeling in front of him. The front of her shirt was splattered with blood. A gold cross was gleaming around her neck.

"Alyssa?" Kevin propped himself up on his elbow. She nodded her head and smiled. "It can't be. You're not real."

"I'm fictitious," she told him. "You created me."

Alyssa picked up the letter from the floor and uncrumpled it. Kevin watched as his protagonist of Sweating In The Shadows paced across the kitchen. She squinted her eyes and brought the letter up closer to her face.

"I've gone crazy," he said.

She looked up from the letter. "You're not crazy, Kevin. You're just upset."

"I'm not that upset," he told her.

"Listen to the girl, Kevin."

He turned his head to see Ethan leaning up against the kitchen counter. The alcoholic from Hidden In The Fog who ran down strangers in his car, was now standing in his kitchen. Kevin could feel his jaw hanging open and his eyes widened.

"Don't look at me like that," Ethan said. "You look like you just saw a ghost."

"I'm dreaming." Kevin rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand.

"No you're not."

"Then why are you here?"

"Look at you, Kev!" Alyssa told him. "Look at how upset you are. We're here to help you."

"You'll get my novels published?"

"No." Alyssa shook her head. "None of the novels you have written will get published. Do you know why?"

"Why?"

"Because what do you know about murder?" Ethan asked. "The publishers know that your books are frauds. Stop making up people and start writing about yourself."

"Myself?"

"Imagine it," Alyssa said twirling around on her toes. "The emotion would be so raw. The description would be disturbing yet beautiful. Your story would be an instant classic."

"You really think that would happen?" Kevin asked.

"We're positive," Ethan said. "With our help, your dream will come true."

Alyssa kneeled down in front of him. She smiled at him and it revealed the small gap between her front teeth. A face he had imagined for months was now in front of him.

"This is your story," she told him. "Who do you want to kill?"

"My students," he said. "I hate those bratty kids."

"Who else?"

"My ex." Kevin could feel his hands balling into fists. "That woman is sucking all the life and money out of me."

"This is a good start," Ethan said.

"Who else is making you upset?" Alyssa asked.

"My parents." Kevin gritted his teeth.

His mother called him during his lunch break. She begged and pleaded for him to go back to school. They never believed that he was going to do anything successful with an English degree.

"How are you going to help me?" Kevin asked.

"Who knows horror better than the two protagonists from a horror story?" Ethan replied. "We'll teach you everything you need to know along the way."

"What do you say?" Alyssa asked.

Kevin looked at his characters. For his whole life he had been creating stories. He created people confronting their problems in violent ways. That's why none of the publishers liked his stories. They were just stories, there were nothing behind it. He knew that his story was going to be the greatest.

"I'll do it," Kevin told them.

Alyssa squealed and threw her arms around Kevin. He hugged ger and was surprised to feel his hands touch her back. He thought they were just hallucinations, but he could physically feel her under his fingertips. She pulled away from him and got up off of her knees.

"Who's first?" she asked.

Ethan got up, turned his wrist toward himself and checked his watch. Kevin grabbed the counter and pulled himself up onto his feet. His knees were shaking underneath him. He curled his fingers tighter into the counter to keep himself up right.

"I say your parents," It's nine o'clock. They'll be in bed not suspecting a thing."

Kevin grabbed his sweater off of the back of the couch and slipped it on. He picked up his keys and shoved them into his pocket. He raised the hood of his sweater and headed for the door.

"This is going to be a fun night," Alyssa said.