Dear you, the only reader of my secret novel.

Whenever I want to write you a good piece, a nice story that will capture your heart and make your body radiate with joy, a love story, I lock myself in the room, drink coca cola endlessly and furiously listen to ‘Breaking the Law’ and ‘Lifetime’ by Emeli Sande. Then my mind explodes with brilliant ideas of love and dramatic situations that will keep you at the edge of your seat while reading. A story that will keep you awake through the night wondering. That will make you drive like crazy on Friday evenings to ask me what inspired that chapter. That will make you cancel flights on Sunday mornings to call me and request me to write another piece for you.

Sometimes the fridge’s settings are messed up and the coca cola freezes in the bottle. I shake up the bottle angrily in a bid to unfreeze it quickly before the assemblage of ideas in my brain vanishes, but it is all in futility as the more I shake the more it freezes. Some things in physics can’t be explained. And Science is more than amazing. It arrests me. Making me sit up in to the wee hours of the night reading about everything explainable and unexplainable. Working out things in my head to understand the laws that govern the universe. Then I end up somewhat hollow and distressed as the more I learn, the more I realise the little I actually know. So I stay awake writing in to the night about science, astronomy and dogmata instead of writing to you your favourite stories. And somehow our novel drags. But whenever this happens you text me and remind me of Peter Pan and how he had forgotten how to fly yet it was all inside him. You tell me not to grow up and be like Susan Pevensie who stopped believing in Narnia. And I tell you I am a guy so that comparison doesn’t work. And you laugh and say we are all human.

I like the way you look forward to my pieces. The way your eyes burn with desire when I tell you there’s something new in the works when we meet over for lunch. The way your voice sounds hungry with passion and anticipation and the way your whole being is eager for the next chapter. You can’t help it but ask questions of this secret writing that might forever remain unpublished. You say you cannot think of anything else ever so luminously written. You earnestly want to know what will happened next and why and when and where and how. You say stuff like ‘how unprecedented and out existence’ this story is. And you make me laugh when you claim you’d sit up all night too in solidarity with me to see how hard I punch the keys for your consumption.

I know you are overly elated right now reading this letter. Plus I have been annoyingly silent for the past couple of weeks. You didn’t see this coming, did you? Especially today of all days! Right? I know you know today marks the first anniversary of chapter 1. It is a happy day surely. But I am sorry things are not good. There’s a problem. And I couldn’t think of any other way to break this to you.

You’ve heard of this monster that enters someone’s body and makes their cells replicate at an unexplainable speed? Well it knocked at my door a couple of months ago. I wouldn’t let it in. I fought it bravely. I fought it with all the resources I had. And I managed to lock the door and kick it out. But like Saruman and his orcs, the monster went and built an army and broke in to my fortress and I found them on the fourth storey. They have taken command and I’m under their mercies right now.

The doctors say there is hope. And I believe them. It is always a “new drug we are testing”. But I hold on to hope. Hope is the only reason we live. I know you’ve watched The Shawshank Redemption. You’ve watched it more times than I have, I guess. Because as you always say, “Morgan Freeman’s voice!” You know that powerful quote on hope when Andy writes to Red: Remember Red, hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies.

This will be over soon. My army will fight this monster and we will stand by our glasses, steady like Teabag said. We will be firm and unshakable and defend Hogwarts from all evil.

I promise you my dear, I will finish the remaining chapters for you.

Your most favourite storyteller,

Elven

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