The rain fell in sheets and the wind blew fiercely across the hilltop as the appointed time approached. The Evil Magician took up his position and prepared himself. The moment came; the power began to course through him, making the hairs on his arms stand up with an electric tingle. His minions surrounded him, moving through the steps of the ritual as his power surged to heights he could only previously have dreamt of. He laughed loudly in the face of the wind and the rain. He possessed true power and nothing could stop him now.
The author stopped and looked at the words on the screen. She frowned. That wasn’t right; that would never do. This was supposed to be a light hearted fantasy, the bad guy wasn’t allowed to win!
She got up and went into the kitchen. She didn’t know why her characters seemed so wont to take over the story and try to derail her plot. It was frustrating; it was as if they had more control over the story than she did.
She made a fresh pot of peppermint tea and returned to her desk, wrapping her hands around her mug and feeling the warmth seep into her; revitalising, strengthening, rejuvenating. The words flowed from her fingers, and that meant she had the power to change the story.
With a few quick keystrokes, she deleted most of the last four sentences and started again.
The rain fell in sheets and the wind blew fiercely across the hilltop as the appointed time approached. The Evil Magician took up his position and prepared himself. The moment came, and although his minions moved precisely through the steps of the planned ritual, nothing happened. There was no electric tingle in the air, no sense of great things occurring, no feeling of power. Something had gone wrong.
A figure strolled around the side of the building, and the Evil Magician stared, dumbfounded. The Hero was radiant in the darkness; almost pulsating with a clear, pure light that seemed to come from the very core of his soul.
At that moment the Evil Magician saw true power.
She sat back with a smile and sipped her tea. Yes, that was much better. A few thousand words more, and the first draft would be all tied up.
She took her tea over to the sofa and started flipping through a book of baby names. After all, she’d have to name the characters soon.
© Kari Fay