"And with that he turned, and walked away. He was going to find something better. He was going to make a fortune, and then he would come back for his family. He would show the men in the village, that he was going to succeed.
It was finally his chance to be something better."
It was a master piece, a beauty, a genuine piece of art. I couldn't help smiling at myself. What a job, Zack old boy, what a job! This had to be what you called an extreme case of 'beginners luck'. Fantasy had never mixed well in my gut. It always seemed to...soppy. Now, with this brilliant little prize winner in front of me, I finally understood the magic behind a good fantasy.
My candle had almost flickered down into a puddle of goo. Not good. This was the last one I owned. Oh crud, trust me to be the only idiot on this ruddy patch to own only forty tiny birthday candles. I didn't even celebrate any cruddy birthdays! Made me feel like I was closer to dieing. And here I hadn't a single candle larger than five centimetres. I didn't even have any gas for my generator and as for a torch, who knows where I kept that thing.
My watch told me it was about three in the morning!! I had been writing continuously since four in the afternoon! I, the person who cannot live two hours without some kind of edible item; I, the slob who slept from midnight till evening, I, the most brazen and careless slug to ever have been born on this little blue planet, had completely put aside my common nature, to write a story for eleven hours! The very thought of it made my head kill. Ouch. I needed some sweet dreams. I had to let go of this pen and hibernate for at least a month now!.....or at least a few hours.
I tucked the pen safely in my jeans pocket, not bothering to change out of my work clothes or bath, and crashed on my couch. I'd have to finish that sweet little cup-cake of a story tomorrow.