Plots Rabbits

Land of the forgotten

As soon as he got home, he went straight to the cellar, his secret land of the forgotten. There, he put away the little suitcase which contained his unsuccessful book, next the others, previous failed attempt to fame; and went back down, directly to his desk. He grabbed his note book, where all the plots he had ever imagined slept, patiently waiting for their time to come; and went through the pages, looking for his next bestseller. He was convinced that this was his fate, he was destined to write a bestseller. 

He sat there, for hours. how long? I don't know; all that I remember, is that when he called me the next day, he told me how beautiful the sun as been this morning, when it rose above the horizon. I guessed he had a sleepless night, like he had many before, and would have many more. 

He told me to come over for a cuppa and that we would talk about his next bestseller. I agreed and was at his, an hour later.  Roger always talked about his books as his bestseller. Told ya, he was convinced that at least one of them, was one; or would be... 

As he poured the black, hot coffee in my cup, he told me about his next story... I can tell you a bit about it myself, for it is a story that will never be written; now that he's gone. He took the plot with him, when he left to nobody knows where. 

He told me that, as he was looking for an idea to pop up, he began to hear scratching in the walls, I've never heard them, nore seen the cause of those supposedly sounds. Keep that in mind for the rest of our story. So, back to my brother, now. As he was looking for his next brilliant plot, he has been disturbed by those scratchings and went up to the celling, to check out if a bird wouldn't had make itself locked inside.

Of course he found nothing; but as he was about to get out, back down to his desk, he stumbled on a pair of scisors. Sewing scisors. Our mother did that; the sewing thing; she was a manual, I am not, he was too. therefore he thought about something. 

a brilliant idea he told me! 

The story of a woman, that would change the world, by making clothes for ghosts. 

I must have looked at him sceptic for he sat back and laughed. He assured me, that this would be a great story. 

--As soon as I got the idea, I went as fast as I possibly could, and began to write! Look... He said.

He was thrilled, he was excited, handing me the paper sheets covered with words and ink stains. He already had two chapter down, and more to come. 

--Ghosts can't walk the earth naked, Sam. Can they?... He kept saying.

But I didn't get the fuss. 

--Ghosts are dead, brother... I said.

I remember, he looked at me, sorry. Sorry for my ignorance. He could see the world in a way, none of us can; that was his blessing and his curse. His face didn't stopped me.

--They need no clothes, and even worst, they're dead, already dressed up. They are, in fact, already, wearing clothes... I told him.

He laughed. I couldn't see the bigger picture, the great story behind the plot; the deep, meaningful message. I couldn't; and I knew the world wouldn't either. But this didn't froze him. He was a bestselling author, he was convinced of it. Therefore, he would, one day, write a bestseller; and that would be this one. 

We chattered a bit more, and I went off to work. I had a new unsuccessful contract to sell. He went back to work, too; writing his ghosts clothing business story.