Tahlia crept back into her room, glanced around carefully, then shut and locked the door behind her before settling into a chair, sighing with relief.
She had made it. She was done. The story was finished. There was nothing her readers could do now.
Well, one, by the name of Kassady, had threatened to kill her once the story was done. Not motivation to finish, to be sure, but Tahlia had delayed long enough. Perhaps Kassady had forgotten.
Kassady hadn't specified, however, whether or not a reappearance of Tass would change her mind.
Not that there was one.
Then the door handle rattled.
Tahlia sprang up, dashing to her bed and climbing up. She fumbled along the wall for a button, pressing it repeatedly.
It wasn't working.
Then the door opened.
Three people -all that remained of the pitchfork army -stood there, glaring at her.
“Tass isn't back,” said their leader.
“He was killed. An arrow to his neck. Exactly how can he recover from that?” Tahlia said, still pushing the button frantically behind her.
“He can disappear into thin air. He's lived for a thousand years. You can make up something.”
“But he's dead! I can't just explain away an arrow in the throat!”
They started coming closer.
“Tass is my imagination. He'll live forever.” An answer I'd given them before. Unsatisfactory, but it might buy me time.”
“If you don't write him back, we will.”
“It won't be the same Tass. It'll be different. Something of your own creation.”
Still not convinced.
“Exactly what will you do if I don't write him back?”
The girl in the back held up a cage. Inside was a rooster.
Ah. Yes. Tahlia remembered.
“What I don't get,” someone appeared in the door behind them, “is why you're so intent on Tass coming back. Sure, he was cool. But characters die all the time.”
Aalen. And his sister was right behind him.
Maybe they would help me?
The first three visitors turned to face them.
“Let Tahlia live,” Aalen said, “and maybe someday she'll write another character like Tass.”
“I have a few,” Tahlia said hopefully.
“Besides,” said the sister, Sara, “I want a chance at her.”
And then the button worked.
Tahlia dropped out of sight, beheath the bed into a chair surrounded by bookshelves. Another press and she went further still, down into a set of rooms she had specially for this purpose. Entrance required a thumbprint. It would take them some time to find her.
Tahlia walked over to a desk and sat down. She opened her laptop and started typing.
Tass -The Epilogue: