A Visitor: Revised 1

He sat in his office, exhausted. He was not quite sure that he was a good writer.

Knock! Knock!

-Who is it?

-It's me.

-Me who?

-I'm one of your characters.

-How did you get my address?

-Is that really important? Please let me in. It's urgent!

He opened the door. He saw a woman with curly, blonde hair. She had smiling eyes, but they weren't inviting. He didn't recognize her. Who the hell was she?

-Which character are you?

-Aren't you going to invite me in?

-Come in.

She looked around. I could tell that she was a bit disappointed.

-So this is where you write?

-What did you expect?

"Let me get to the point," then she lit a cigarette, "You got me all wrong." She sat down on the sofa and made herself at home. I could tell she was trying to relax. "I want to offer you some pointers." Then, she took another drag.

-Who are you?

-Sarah from Wherever You May Fall.

-Sarah is not a BLONDE.

-Dyed.

-A character can't simply change her hair color without my permission.

-Why can't a character have a life of her own? 

She appeared very confident about what she had just said, and I was in no mood for an argument.

"I really hated my father," she began to pace around the room, "I don't think I should have forgiven him."

-It's only a novel, not even a good one at that.

-But I liked the novel. I just thought that I wouldn't have forgiven him. I would have killed him.

-Would you have?

-He was taking credit for everything I did. You don't know what it is like to be a woman. You try so hard to get recognized and then, someone else is always stealing your ideas, especially MEN. They are RUTHLESS.

Sarah choked the cigarette in the ashtray. Tears began to swell up around the edges of her eyes. He kindly offered her a tissue.

-You think I am weak.

-I was just being polite.

-SO you think you can make be strong.

-I don't know. You want to kill your father in my next novel? I don't think that you are that kind of person.

-I AM. You don't know how much violence there is within me. I'm really psychotic. I'm only soothed by affairs in which I am deeply and truly in love. Once the affair ends, I begin to detest this world.