Chapter 1
| The Story | The Authors |
|---|---|
| There was a rustle in the bushes a few feet off. "Damn, now I'm getting the jeebies", thought Roger. Maybe the comic book wasn't that bad after all. What could possibly be out in this place in the middle of a nowhere island anyway? "There it is again!" this time he spoke out loud. He pulled his thin safari jacket around him tighter as a chilling shiver ran up his back and neck making the fine hair stand up against his collar. "What if there is wildlife on this small island?" impossible. Someone would have to bring them here. Animals wouldn't be here naturally. Just birds and birds don't fly in the dark. OOooooO "There! Who goes there?!" This time he knew he wasn't hearing things. That was definately not a bird or the wind. What's going on here? | |
| The possibilities flashed through his mind. He hadn't had much of a chance to survey his surroundings before nightfall. Could a pregnant animal have drifted to the island on a piece of drift wood? Perhaps woodchucks had been stowed away in the landing gear of a plane used by colombian drug lords who had exchanged cargo occasionally on the small island? Roger wasn't afraid of being attacked by a wild herd of ravenous woodchucks, but nonetheless his inabiity to identify the noise had terror rushing through his spine and he found it difficult to breath. His eyes were transfixed at the dimmly lit brush in front of him. He felt panicked, the same sense of terror he felt when as a small child, waiting in his room to be spanked by his father for some misdeed he had committed, he could hear the sound of his father's footsteps approaching and his anxiety level reached a frenetic level that sent him into a shaking mass of tears and uncontrolled cries of despair. | |
| As an adult Roger no longer retreated to fits of sobbing in the presence of terror, but he did feel himself sweating, and every muscle in his body was tense as he prepared for the unknown. The brush moved. Out stepped a human figure with a head dress of beads, straw and feathers, and a skirt made of dried long grasses. It was a woman. He looked into the face of the person coming towards him and it looked familiar. Suddenly the shockwave of recognition hit him. It was Anita! | |
|
No actually it was Janice, followed by Dianne, Kristi, Vashondra,
and Bitzy. "We're no more fictional than you are honey," said Kristi.
"And besides, we're immortal and you're not. So really we're better
than you." Janice continued from there. "What right did you have
to throw the WORLD PREMEIRE of our BEST comic book into a TOXIC DIRTY
FIRE?"
"Well - uh - uh -" Roger was lost for words. "You know better than to upset the Fictional Five!" shouted Janice. "I might just turn my evil remote control on you!!!" "Now Janice -" started Kristi. Janice interrupted Kristi with a hoarse scream. "I've had enough of your "calm down" tactics!!! I've had enough of all of you!!! I am leaving!!! I will build my own evil remote control factory!!! I will have my revenge on all of you!!! YOU HEAR ME?? I ALONE WILL SURVIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" With that Janice kicked wildly and ran screaming into the forest. Kristi, Dianne, Vashondra, and Bitzy had an emergency conference. "Janice is going wacko!" "She's been going wacko for a while but I've never seen her this wacko before," "hey guys she dropped her evil remote control!" "Look what it says on the side!" "Wackometer!" "Oh great I knew it was evil but not that evil!" "What do you mean" "Don't you see? The evil remote control has turned Janice into an evil, sadistic, screaming, not to mention totally wacko, personality!" "is there a way to change her back?" "I think so, listen to this mumble mumble mumble" After much discussion the four turned to Roger. "We need your help. If you dont help us, your life, our lives, Anita's life, maybe even the whole world's lives, will be in grave danger." |
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