Writer Unblocked

By Rachel H Grant

The shop was quiet, books lining the shelves like sentries to a secret world. Unseen, a hidden ghost danced alone. It was time for a happier ending.

*

The bookshop door tinkled as it opened, a tiny bell gifted to them by Jake’s mother. He had spent so much time here, like a second home, a place as delightful to him as a favourite book. It was only fitting to pay some respect. Dorothy stood apprehensively inside the doorway, surveying “Waltzing Words” with her teacher’s eyes. So this was Jake’s favourite haunt, her most talented English pupil. His suicide had rocked her like a gale force wind. Such a wicked waste.

“Can I help?” Evelyn approached her customer, reading pain in her eyes. Her purple hair rained down her back like a New Age waterfall, her green eyes sparkling with a quiet madness.

Dorothy’s hands wrestled with each other as she said quietly, “I just wanted to see it for myself. The shop Jake loved. You remember him?”

“Of course, he was our one person homework club. He would sit at that corner table with his school books. It was such a shock.”

A book suddenly fell from a high shelf. They both jumped. The title read: “I Am Still Here.” Hurriedly, Evelyn retrieved the book. “There’s work going on next door,” she murmured, her eyes glowing. “Reverberations are coming through the wall.”

“Nonsense!” Dorothy looked school teacher stern. “So it is true what they say, the pupils at the school. This bookshop is haunted.”

*

Naomi browsed the fantasy section of “Waltzing Words.” Unicorns stared in to her eyes with secret knowing; wizards waved their wands and placed her under their spell. Then a book fell at her feet. “Beat the Bullies,” proclaimed the title. Nervously, she picked it up. Was it true, was there a ghost in this shop? Was it Jake?

How she had fancied him from afar. His pale ginger locks, his cool green eyes. But she hardly knew him. She had seen him being bullied and knocked around, and how she wished she had helped. It was too late now.

Naomi opened the book. “It’s never too late.” The words dropped like bricks inside her heart. She blinked. The words rearranged themselves, she had simply misread the sentence. “It’s never right to bully.” She smiled. Perhaps she would buy the book.

*

Lucas entered the shop nervously. Jake had been his friend, in fact he had been Jake’s only friend. Was it true that he haunted the bookshop?

As he closed the door, a book fell at his feet. “It’s True,” shouted the title.

Lucas shuddered, but whether from fear or hope he did not know.

*

Naomi was enjoying “Beat the Bullies,” making notes, thinking that by helping other kids in a way she would help Jake too. The words “It’s never too late” played inside her brain.

She would speak to Dorothy, that nice English teacher, about her ideas.

*

Evelyn twisted the pen in her hands. There was so much she wished to write. But she did not know where to begin. Slowly, she let the pen glide over the page as if by its own volition. Then she looked at the words.

“Write about a bookshop ghost.”

*

Naomi began to write a story. “Beat the Bullies” was its title. It would be about a bully who turned in to a superhero. She smiled as the pen moved effortlessly over the page. This was fun.

*

Lucy stood at the till with her chosen book, Unicorn Magic. She needed some magic, all right. She had been bullied relentlessly for the last six months.

She opened the book. “You will be bullied no more.”

She blinked. The words rearranged themselves. “The unicorn stared in to the girl’s eyes.”

She smiled. This book would be fun.

*

Naomi wrote and wrote in to the night. She could not stop. The story screamed in her head, demanding to be written straight away. This could be fun, she forced a smile on her face. She would make it fun.

*

Lucy came to the last page of her book. The unicorn was gone, back to its mythic land. The girl would never see it again. Tears pricked her eyes like a bully’s fingers.

Then the words rearranged themselves. “The unicorn stayed forever.”

Lucy smiled.

*

Evelyn’s book was taking shape. She laughed at the absurdity of her plot. No less than Shakespeare was haunting a book shop. Throwing books off shelves with special messages for children. And secretly searching for a new young talented writer. A Shakespeare for the 21^st century.

Until one day he found him. A young boy called James (but really in her mind it was Jake). A talent to tutor.

Tears formed in her eyes. Jake would not return. But she would continue to write in his memory. Words formed on the page beneath her, as tears joined them and made beautiful patterns.

A pattern that imprinted itself on her heart in indelible ink.

*

Lucy began to write, words jousting in her brain like gallant knights. But which words would win? She smiled. This story would have a better ending, one where dreams really did vanquish the dark, and where unicorns guarded lost children and guided them home.

A unicorn would come to the biggest school bully, and it would change him, bullying bashed on its head and defeated forever. For in her story, unicorns and happy endings were real.

*

Naomi laughed. Writing should not be this fun. Did she dare show this story to Dorothy, the English teacher? She smiled deeply, perhaps, just perhaps she would.

*

Dorothy was late for work. She rushed up the school stairs, her breath catching in her throat like a nervous bird. With surprise she noted that two school pupils were outside her office, apparently waiting for her.

Naomi and Lucy were smiling. This was good news, as they were both a concern to her, coming in to class with frowns like a malignant mask.

“We have an idea!” chirped Naomi.

“Yes,” nodded Lucy. “A book of short stories, about bullies and the bullied, but most of all about happy endings.”

Dorothy beamed with ignited enthusiasm. “Tell me more!”

A sudden wind tousled her hair. She looked round, but there was nothing there.

*

Evelyn’s shop had a new regular. She watched him keenly, as Bobby slowly sat down at the little writing table. She put down her pen and smiled. Forget her story, there was a real book opening before her very eyes.

Bobby felt that all the books on the shelves had eyes, watching him, waiting. Frantically, he began to write, words waltzing together, poetry in motion before his eyes. He wrote in supplication to the eyes searing in to his back, please stop looking! Please stop if I just create magic, real wizardry of words on my page. He wrote and wrote, about a little boy ghost, who changed the endings of books. Bobby grinned. This was surprisingly fun.

Endings morphed in to mysteries, boring endings vanquished by soldiers of literature, champions for a better story, literary Lancelots. Bobby laughed. Somewhere, there was the perfect story with the best ever ending. He would find it and make it his own.

Bobby laughed again. Writing should not be this much fun. Hidden eyes watched him, then were gone.

*

Naomi and Lucy’s book of stories was published, and placed for sale within the school and at Waltzing Words. It gained recognition, winning a national teenage fiction prize. Naomi and Lucy were both signed by a literary agent and went on to collaborate on further anti-bullying teenage fiction. Happiness like no other held their hearts. And who did they have to thank? Jake of course.

*

“It is time to reap your own fun,” an angel whispered to invisible ears. “Which literary landscape do you choose?” “Narnia,” replied Jake. Then he was there, a summer meadow before him and a large lion in the distance. He chuckled with glee.

*

The bookshop became quiet. No books fell off shelves, and no endings changed. But a memory of something special remained. Bobby felt it as he wrote in his corner, an imprint of magic in the air that would not disperse. Bobby smiled. The bookshop felt peaceful , as words waltzed in his head.

And so Bobby writes the ending to this story:

“Every child who entered the little bookshop received a gift of dreams come true. Each story delivered a bespoke ending just for them, a better goodbye to all the words that had gone before. The satisfaction of the perfect ending would never leave them. There is nothing better than a happy ending. But to this story, there will be no ending. For the magic of the written word will last forever.”

Bobby fingered his pen, smiled and began to write once more. Evelyn watched him, a happy ending in her heart. She looked round her shop, all the books and all their endings, as tears formed in her eyes. From afar, a voice whispered in her ear. “I have my happy ending. Cry no more.” She froze, then slowly smiled. Sometimes happy endings were true.