The sun sank slowly towards the horizon as she lay in a pool of her own blood, her breaths slowing. A knife to the heart was the least she could do to save her only sister, the sister she'd helped raise. A sharp, shuddering pain filled her chest, spreading, growing, filling her completely. Her last thought was of those she loved and how they were now safe thanks to her self-less act.

~THE END~

Click, click, tap... enter. Yes, I thought. Finished. This was another masterpiece, if I did say so myself. Six months churning out this story took a lot out of me. I scanned the front room of my little house. Ugh! I needed to spend a bit of my upcoming downtime straightening. I'd let the place go over the last few weeks trying to meet my editor's deadline. Empty Chinese take-out and pizza boxes littered every available flat surface. A thick layer of dust topped them, driving the word single straight through my heart. I leaned back stretching both arms over my head taking a deep breath before a cough wracked through my body. I'll need to do something about that smell too. I leaned down debating a minute before sniffing under my arm. And a shower wouldn't hurt.

A loud cawing floated in from outside through the open window. A crow peered in, sitting on the lowest branch of the shade tree in my front yard. It tilted its inky black head to one side and then another, its beady eyes judging me. Shaking my head, I cracked my knuckles looking back at the screen in front of me. Time to hit save, wrap this epic novel up, and send it off. My finger hovered over the mouse ready to click send as I glanced at the last line again. Had I rushed it, I wondered? Naw. That ending was the best yet!

"You call that an ending?"

I jumped, my chair flying backwards before teetering sideways, crashing with a loud thump on the floor. I jerked around looking for the very feminine voice. The room was as empty as before. No one there. I glanced out the window; no one walked by on the quiet street or stood in the yard. Unless you counted the crow, who was still staring at me. I straightened the chair, lowering myself as an icy hand gripped my shoulder.

"You're so tense." Breath stuck in my throat as icy fingers massaged my shoulders. I couldn't move, couldn't speak. Sure, I wrote dark fantasy, a bit of horror thrown in now and then, but in real life, I liked my days uneventful. Boring, even. Every hair I had stood on end, goosebumps raising on my arms.

"That's better, huh? Good. Now let's look at that ending." Glancing over my shoulder, a woman stood behind me, golden tresses falling down her back. Her dress looked like she'd just returned from a ren faire, but it was the knife sticking out of her chest which sent me shrieking backwards. A scream filled the air several minutes before I realized the high pitch shrill was coming from my own throat. I definitely lost some man points. It's not my proudest moment, I'll admit.

"Who are you?" The woman looked unimpressed, crossing her arms under the long-handled dagger where it entered her chest.

"Really? We spent every day together for the past six months. All those late nights, early mornings. And you dare ask me who I am? Maybe it's this... this thing stabbed through my heart although it should truly be in my back considering the way you betrayed me." Her green eyes sparked with rage, the soft lilting drawl I'd imagined her with becoming more noticeable the angrier she got. But... this couldn't be happening. Could it?

"Lilly?" She rolled her eyes at me motioning impatiently to the computer screen behind me.

"You need to fix that, Geoffrey! Now!"

"Fix what?"

"The ending!" Her voice raised an octave, small trickles of blood appearing around the knife, soaking the pale-yellow dress she wore. I had given her a gruesome death. Stabbed by her own stepmother, distracting the vile woman long enough for her sister to escape.

"It's a book," I mumbled to myself, closing my eyes. "It's not real. It's just a book." I swiped a hand over my eyes before blinking them open. No one was there. No angry ghost... no, character or was it character's ghost? Whichever way, no angry apparition stood there challenging me. Looking at the screen a moment, I shook my head. It'd been a long day. I'd think better tomorrow. A good night's rest, a shower, fresh coffee. Then I'd send it in with no second guesses. That's all this was. Nerves over having to rush the ending, I told myself heading to the bedroom.

Peaceful sleep came, lulling me into a serene place I knew only in my dreams. Those dreams shifted though, growing colder, crazier until I jerked awake. Pitch black surrounded me. I fumbled in the dark, knocking something off the bedside table with a crash just before the lamp clicked on. I flopped back down again only to jerk away.

"Geoffrey. Don't you want to write me a happy ever after? How could you do this to me? You coddled me, protected me through six months, one hundred thirty-six thousand words, two horrible bouts of writer's block. You made sure my hair always gleamed with just the right amount of highlights and I never had to fuss over what I wore. Then you snatched it all away just when the goal was in sight! How could you?" Lilly's bottom lip turned out in a sultry pout. A pout that my words created, but at that moment, logical thought escaped me as I felt her cold finger trace over my ear and down my neck. I scooted further away as she laughed.

"You can't get away from me, Geoffy. I'm here until you fix your mistake."

"I didn't make a mistake! I'm the author. I planned that from the beginning!" I screamed despite how ridiculous I felt talking to the apparition. Her face fell at my words.

"You can't mean that!" She leaned forward as I scooted backwards again. Her sad face leaning over mine. Only the knife in her chest separated us now. I felt something warm, sticky, and wet drip on me. Looking down, blood dripped in a steady stream from around the knife onto my chest. I scrambled away, falling off the bed with a heavy thud landing on the alarm clock I'd knocked off earlier.

"No," I screamed before half running half crawling into the adjoining bathroom, clicking the lock. I'd imagined the whole thing.

Looking down something red clung to my t-shirt. I yanked it over my head throwing it into the corner. A warm shower would help shake loose these guilty thoughts. Guilt. I had nothing to feel guilty over. I didn't kill anybody, I reminded myself as I let the warm water pound down on my back. I drew a shaky breath in, held and then released it. Several times. Finally, a semblance of normalcy returned invited in by the clean smell of shampoo, soap and hot water.

The shower curtain ripped back, water splattering on the tile floor as a scream ripped from my throat. I grabbed at the curtain using it as a shield against the tall, lumberjack looking man in leather armor staring at me with dull eyes. His brown hair stood on end rivaling the long, shaggy beard for my attention as I tried understanding just what I was looking at.

"Do you have anything else to drink other than this wimpy stuff? I could use a good ale about now." He wiggled an empty beer bottle at me. Numbly, I shook my head, not trusting myself to even speak. The large man shrugged turning around walking back to the now open door that I remember locking and that's when I saw it. The huge, blood covered battle ax just below his shoulder blade. Another dead... thing... in my home.

"I'm going insane," I mumble as tinkling laughter carried in from the door. Lilly stood leaning gracefully against the frame. If not for the knife embedded in her heart, she would have been a goddess. So beautiful! As if reading my thoughts, the corners of her mouth turned up further.

"Who was that?" I asked nodding to where the other ghost, man, thing... disappeared.

"Now surely you haven't forgotten your first?"

"First what?"

"Your first kill, silly," she giggled as she left the room. My frowned deepened. He had looked vaguely familiar but it had been a good number of years since I'd started writing.

Now I remembered, I thought grabbing a towel. My first heroic adventurer. Sadly, he was cut down during the final battle, but only after he'd saved his kingdom mind you. I'm not totally barbaric, I defend to the me in the mirror.

After slipping into something comfortable and checking the time, I decided 4:30 a.m. wasn't too early for breakfast. If I was lucky, I'd actually have food in the kitchen. I walked out of the bedroom trying hard not to think about the two apparitions who'd visited me. All hope of doing that fled the moment I opened my door. Besides Lilly, who lounged comfortably on one end of my sofa and the tall warrior who seemed to have finished off all the beverages in my house by the looks of the bottles lying around him, there were four more men. All wore double-breasted suits looking very 1920s gangster and sat at my small, round dining room table playing cards.

I stood frozen looking out from my bedroom into the open living/dining room. Lilly wiggled her fingers at me before patting the empty spot on the sofa next to her. This couldn't be happening. Could it? No. I was crazy even for asking. I hurried past the gaggle of mob bosses trying not to look at the spray of bullet holes in their crisp black pinstripe suits. My kitchen looked no better clutter wise than the rest of the house. Dirty dishes filled the sink overflowing onto the cabinets. Sniffing out a clean cup, I ran some water straight from the tap, bypassing the fancy filter thing in the fridge door to save time. What can I say? I like to live dangerously. After gulping the water down, my throat felt less restricted. But the churning in the pit of my stomach was still there.

"You'd feel better if you cleaned up once in a while," a middle-aged man popped up from behind a cabinet door I hadn't noticed standing open. I spit the sip of water I'd just taken all over the counter. Half the man's face was unrecognizable but his clothes reminded me of the same style as Lilly's. I couldn't help but stare at the bloodied mess that had once been the whole right side of his head as he walked away eating straight from my box of Toastie O's.

"Such a shame. Cut down in his prime," Lilly tutted from behind me where she sidled up close whispering in a conspiratorial tone.

"Who was he?" I regretted the question as soon as it left my lips. Not just for the angry glare now on her face, but because I kept forgetting she's not real.

"Hiram. My cousin! A stampede of cattle killed him during the opening of the book, remember? Left me and my sister without a single member of my dear father's family to support us." Lilly's lips turned down as she leaned against the cabinet. I didn't know what to say. I had written her a rough backstory but hey, she'd overcome it. Mostly. I tried ignoring the beauty staring at me as I dug through the refrigerator finding some eggs and bacon I didn't know I had. Surprisingly, they were both still edible once I washed some pans to cook them in.

By the time I'd eaten, thrown a load of dishes in the dishwasher, and stacked all the empty food containers by the back door, the sun was peeking up over the horizon. And my house was still haven for cursed characters, I thought grumpily. How was I supposed to work with them hanging around? Oh, right. I was technically done for now, I just had to send the manuscript off to my editor. I glanced to where my laptop sat on the little desk by the front window. I should go do that now I thought but something held me back. Maybe Lilly's sad eyes, or the fact I wasn't in my right mind. I'm not sure which.

Opening the front door, I jogged down the walk to pick up the newspaper which had just landed with a thud moments before on my front lawn. My older next-door neighbor, having the same idea, shuffled down her driveway, hair still in curlers with a large flower print moo-moo covering her from shoulders to feet. I gave a slight wave, not feeling too bad I'd forgotten her name even though I'd lived next door to her for a good seven years.

I smacked into a hard body as I turned. A large red-headed man, towering well over my five-foot ten inches, stared down at me. He held his hand out as if I'd just hand over my newspaper without a word.

"I need the paper, little man." He was dressed head to toe in furs and animal skins with a thick accent. Oh yeah, a French fur trader in my one attempt at a historical drama. From the corner of my eye, I saw the old lady next door shake her head as she mumbled something under her breath about crazy artsy people. Great! Now my neighbors will know I'm having a breakdown.

"You can just wait your turn." I shrug off Jacques' cold grip and walk around him noticing the dozen arrows in his back. He stomped behind me into the house standing near the door even after it was closed and I settled on the couch to read my paper. Lilly curled beside me pretending to read whatever page I had open. Over the next three days, more characters came. My small two-bedroom house was starting to look like an extras lot for a movie studio. Everything from Vikings to aliens filled my house, sat at my table, ate my food, and watched my television. One of them had even erased my DVR. How was I ever supposed to know what happened to Susan after her fall down the steps?

I'd forgotten I'd tried my hand at about every genre out there. Obviously the one thing they all had in common was death. Gruesome, heart-wrenching death. Death by stampeding cattle, death by knives, death by guns, death by laser rays, even death by an exploding oven. You name it and I'd killed someone by it. No, not someone. A character. A stupid, make-believe character. A character I'd created!

My mind was slowly starting to lose touch with reality. I had to do something. I pushed my way through the crowd finding Lilly in her favorite spot seated near the laptop I still hadn't opened again. She looked up at me with a smile on her face.

"Having fun, Geoffy?" She knew. She knew my mind was frazzled and frayed.

"No. I'm not. How do I get them to leave? How do I make this end?"

"Well, it's too late for them. But they'll leave if you help me. Change the ending of my story."

"I can't do that. It would mess up the whole dynamics of the plot," I started explaining but she didn't care. She stood up, tugging at the knife that wouldn't budge from her chest.

"Do you see this? This wasn't supposed to be how my story ended! You're better than this, Geoffrey. Look around. Wouldn't you rather make people happy instead of being the harbinger of death? Everyone talks about how many characters you've killed and bets on how many you'll be killing in your next story before it even hits the shelves. You don't want to be that person, do you?" I didn't know. Did I? I kind of liked killing characters, but with the anguished look on Lilly's face, I couldn't admit it. Not to her.

"All I have to do is change the ending and you'll leave? And take them with you?" She beamed up at me nodding her head.

"Yes, just change my ending. No death by knife and everything will go back to the way it was before." I could do this. Just a little tweak. I mean, what was more important, my story or my sanity?

"Alright. I'll do it." I flipped the laptop open talking myself into the changes while it loaded. The document popped up right where I'd left it. I slowly began tapping the backspace, each click like a knife in my own heart. I looked up to see the room empty, fading Norsemen and fur trappers disappearing along with the rest. Lilly waved goodbye, blowing me a kiss as she faded into nothing.

I glanced back at the document in front of me. Words formed and the tap, tap, tap of the keyboard was the only sound in the now almost too quiet house. When finished, I nodded to myself, saved it, and sent the email immediately, not allowing time for what I'd just done to set in. The same cawing crow sat outside my window watching as it had a few days before. It's black eyes boring into me. I shrugged at it.

"What can I say? I'm hopeless." It flapped its wings shaking its head back and forth knowing what I'd just done sealed my fate. I better hurry and clean the house while I could. Lilly would be back any moment. At least this time, the knife wouldn't still be buried in her chest.