Anthony Renfro AWOL A Character Lost (epub) i

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.AWOL: A Character LostHow far will he go to find his home?Anthony Renfroatothewr publicationsThis is a work of fiction and I hold all the publishing rights.This book was produced using PressBooks.com.ContentsDedicationTogetherThe Winter DeadTogether 2Fangs and A Full MoonTogether 3Goodnight Killer 1Together 4Goodnight Killer 2Together 5Monster MashTogether 6HunterPrologueSmoke SignalsNuclear War7:30 A.M.ChaosGoing HomeBread PatrolAbout the AuthorPlaces to Find MeDedicationFor all of those who believe in me.Thanks for being there.Thanks James for the cover: goonwrite.comTogetherThe naked man was lying there, lifeless.Who was this mysterious man?What story did he belong in?Last night, after my discovery, I had searched my notes and all of the recent stuff I had worked on.I found just a few pieces of information about him, possible story connections and some minor clues like that, but nothing substantial.Frustrated and tired, I decided to go to sleep.The creative juices always flow strongest for me in the mornings, so I thought that would be the best time to figure this thing out.Morning arrived with sunshine and confusion.The good night’s sleep did nothing to help my cause.The man was still there.Something had to be done because a corpse in my creative center (if he is indeed a corpse), rotting away, corrupting all my ideas was something this writer didn’t need.I pulled myself out of bed, stretched, and then went into the kitchen to make coffee.While it brewed, I thought back into the creative part of my mind to see if the man had made any movements whatsoever in the short time since I had been up.He was still, lifeless.The coffee finished brewing (takes forever in the mornings).I poured myself a cup and made my way down to the office.I took a seat in my soft plush chair, sipped on the coffee, and made a decision.“Well,” I told myself, “it’s time to wake him up, if he can be woken up.”Then it happened.The man stirred.He was living after all.I watched and waited.The character sat up, shook the cobwebs free, and then stood on wobbly legs, leaning on the wall for support.“Hello?” He asked, looking around, blind in the dark.A lamp appeared beside him.“At your right foot there is a kerosene lamp.Pick it up and turn it on.” As I write this, the words light up in big bright letters on the wall – neon words of pink and green.The character nearly falls over with the surprising light.When he gathers himself, he looks up at the wall.We can now communicate.“Who are you?” The character turns on the lamp, and the small round room fills with light.He is standing on the concrete floor of a large silo, with infinite blackness above – stretching to the top of my imagination.“Where am I?” 10 doors surround him; they are black, dark, and ominous, with silver words written on them, reflecting the light.“My name is Anthony, and I am the author who made you.I don’t know your name for now.I’m hoping you will find it along the way.” I paused.“You’ve stumbled out of your story, and you are back at the spot where I first created you.The problem is, I don’t know what story you came from.”The character – five eight to five nine in height – read the words on the wall, and his heart sank.“You stumbled out sometime last night, and I found you when I went in to search my brain for something to write about.”The character read the words silently.“I do know that you are a runner.You are educated and smart, and have been around the world at least once.You are also 40 years old.”I thought of a mirror, and it appeared on the wall.The character moved the lamp to shine the light up and down his body as he looked into the mirror.It was true.The author was right.He was in great physical shape.He also noticed he had dark hair, unkempt, with streaks of gray.The hair hung down to his shoulder blades, and a dark goatee surrounded his mouth.“Here.Put on some clothes so you won’t be standing there like that.I’m sure you’re cold.Shine your light at the floor.You’ll see the clothes appear there once I create them for you.” I thought about what he should wear.I’m a simple guy myself, so a pair of jeans should work; magically they appeared.The character put them on.I then thought of a shirt, something from a band I like.The shirt appeared, and the character put it on.Rush was written in big letters across the front, with a picture of the band on the back side.Then I thought of shoes.A pair of sneakers and socks appeared in the room.“That should do it.” The character finished dressing.“Comfortable?”“Very.” He looked down at his shirt.“What’s Rush?”“A great Canadian rock band.”“Do I like them?”“You do, yes.You like a lot of different kinds of music.I know rock and heavy metal are strong influences in your life.”“I have the clothes and that bit of information.Now what?”“Since I don’t know what story you came out of, I’m hoping you will be able to find it yourself by looking at these doors.Each one of them represents a possible story you may be a part of.”The character steps up to one of the doors and shines the light on it.The word he sees written on the door sends chills down his spine.“Don’t look just yet,” I replied.“I don’t like the look of number 1.”“You probably won’t like what’s behind most of the doors.I don’t write dramas or love stories.Now, here’s what I need you to do.Look at the writing on each of the doors.I need to know if they trigger anything inside your head.Can you do that for me?”“I guess.”“Good.They don’t have titles, so I’m hoping just a generic word about each genre will help trigger your memory.”The light starts to move while the character goes around the room, checking each door.He stops when he finishes reading them.“None of them trigger anything in my brain.”“I was hoping that one of them might, and that it wouldn’t come to this [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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