I have become a character in a bad novel...

Word Count: 4,420

I stayed off the internet for days. I had to. Life is becoming crazy. Offline I'm haunted by strange mails and messages, online it's even worse. I can no longer sleep in my own house.

Yesterday I was a struggling novelist, anonymous, today I am a wounded novelist - assaulted psychologically at first and then physically - and worst of all 'they' have gone ahead to label me a kidnapper of grown men and pampered dogs. (her skills as a fiction writer are at their best when she isn't stealing other people's words)

All I want to do is write. Write my novel. Find a publisher. It's all I've ever wanted to do. But I have now become a character in a novel, the half-hearted experiments of a heartless, incompetent novelist(s).

It is crazy. I fear for my life. I misunderestimated the viciousness of the woman I am dealing with. So I have decided to bring into the public domain every 'evidence' that comes my way. So that if I disappear, and my body is washed up on a beach miles away from anywhere, at least I'd know that I left something behind for people to find the truth.

Nothing seems real anymore.

In my very first post on this blog, I told about X.X. Broomington, the famous children's writer, how he'd lived in this house and then moved out, and how I suffered for his sins of chronic indebtedness. So you can imagine my shock when I got an anonymous comment on this blog that Broomington has been dead for ages. And that he died IN this house. I thought it was one of those crazies who haunt the web (my blog seems to be No. 1 Tourist Destination for them these days), until I got a newspaper clipping in the mail. Containing Broomington's Obituary. And even gruesome photos of the scene of his death. The scene. This house in which I live. Lived.

Broomington dead? So why did no one tell me? Where the hell did the caretaker get the story he told me? I still recall how furious he sounded as he narrated to me how Broomington was evicted for owing half a year's worth of rents? He even warned that I'd suffer Broomington's fate of instant eviction if I ever defaulted on my payments.
Broomington's fate was a violent death, annihilation, not eviction. Will that be mine too?

I'm going to have to go to the police. See this 2007 letter (Exhibit One), a crumpled, torn sheet of pink notepaper, watermarked with the A.S mono gramme.
I don't need to let you know in whose handwriting it is.

23/4/2007
Dear Broomington
my dear, dear, dear Broomington. Ma cherie!
How is the new novel coming along?
If you could see your way to leaving it out for Carlos this Friday, I'd be eternally, forever and infintatley grateful. Incredibly so.
So thankful, and so in your debt, in fact, that I may destroy the negatives of these fine photographs (please find enclosed).
Ah – these snaps certainly bring back memories, don't they? Who'd have thought such a wholesome children's author would beg, plead and pay vast sums for....

[portion of this letter missing – seems to have been torn or damaged]

what photographs? what was Broomington begging and paying vast sums for? the tone makes me shudder. I can no longer pretend I can handle this...

And you don't need to ask me how I was able to lay my hands on such classified material. The only thing that keeps me going now is the fact that the Head of Enemy Intelligence has defected... VOLUNTARILY...