Fifty two

Part two

Silence.

Cold nothing.

Nothing, left or ever really there, but the solitary wisp of…bollocks.

Cheer up you miserable git, no need for moping…who gives a flying squirrel about so much of nothing?  Nothing worth fussing over or worrying about, just a thing, as time and effort that makes no more sense than any other.  No worse or better, the same and little different from anyone.

So carry on and keep on trying…but for now, as ever…its a no.

R

 

 

Fivtywon

Part one

Until this point I did not believe you would make it this far. You had threatened to continue, but I had hoped that somewhere on the way you would learn the error of your ways. When I heard you were still at it, I hung my head and prepared to be raised to a point of anger that most can merely imagine, right now the veins in my neck are constricted in pain as they pump fresh bile to my throat and grist the mill of my embittered mind with thoughts of murderous rage. How dare you violate the sanctity of my thoughts, peace has been shattered and my soul left prone, shivering in the dank pit of your hateful prose. Leave me now and never returns…the pain, it streaks behind my bleeding eyes, as patterns of jagged spider webs slice vision into…NO! Stop…crawling pronouns chewing on my face….the adjectives…the horribly, devious adjectives are eating my eyes…can’t stand it…must…kill…destroy…reject…

To be concluded…

50

I’m sure we’ve seen this all before, so lets move on and forget all about it, hmmm? Not that I’d accuse you of any kind of copying, but these trends will cycle as they want and fall in some unpredictable ways, but leave me with no doubt that all things are destined to be repeated. What worries me more is how we can be expected to cope with the frequency of the repetition; there are only so many times I can experience the end of the world before I give up. All your main characters die in tedious circumstances, there is never any hope and everyone experiences moments of internal angst and brooding solipsism, which do nothing to interest the reader and everything to bore me senseless. I would like to thank you emphatically for providing me with such treacherous writing that covers me with a dull shade from which to illuminate real talent.

Csl

49

Are you still here? I’m mean, that shows either persistence or stupidity, you must enjoy it or something. After all this time, I had hoped you would take the hint, but it seems that you are oblivious to the harm you are causing me, literary culture and to anyone unfortunate enough to catch a glimpse of you ridiculous prose. Last week one of your titles caused a knife fight between two of my most favored employees and after I cleaned away the blood and prized the metal from their shaking hands, I realized that neither possessed any verbal means of communications. You robbed them of words. Not only are you so bad you cause fights, you somehow absorb the limited abilities of others. You are a black hole, sucking words and meaning from all those about you, and something must be done. I have decided that the only way to deal with your menace is to rub you out. For this purpose, I have crafted an eraser of such sophistication that it’s mark of HB, can only warn at the trouble it will cause you. It is mounted upon a 6 foot pencil, sharpened to a razor point that will pierce at the heart of your errors and cross through your hateful mistakes. My only fear is that in the struggle you may wrest this instrument of power from my arms and use it against me, to produce yet more ghastly crimes.

Ed

For Tea Ate

It’s getting difficult for me to explain that despite your persistence you are getting no better; whereas most people develop with practice, you have in fact got far worse.  There is no inspiration, no signs of intelligence or learning.  You have not progressed and I hope that you will soon realise that there is not point in continuing.  I’m sure you won’t take the hint, as nothing has stopped you up until this point, but in the unlikely event that you will heed my warnings, I would like you to know that if you write one more word then I will hunt you down and remove each of your fingers with a pair of bolt croppers.

 

Thanks

NP

Four T 7

No, not now, not nearly necessary nor never needed.

Night

Nigel

46

I could publish this story you have sent me, it would be entirely possible. It has a beginning, a middle and an end. There is a twist. It has characters and a situation in which they interact to reach, understand and explore their motivations. In fact, I found it exciting and interesting, it reignited my enthusiasm for literature that you had produced a work such as this. And yet, if I were to publish this story, who are it’s audience? Truly, I do not believe there are people out here with the intellect, the understanding of life or even the basic sense to cope with reading this. The minute the average reader cast their eyes on the magnificence of your opening sentence they would be ruined for any future experience, not just of reading, but if life itself. Your writing is dangerous. Please stop.

NR

Fortyfive

Some day past I liked your stuff, when it was fun and full of laughs, we used to dig your quirks of grammar, and love your casual spelling stammer, but last week this forever changed. I heard a story from a mate, who said his mother knew a guy and as he was walking down the high street and thought he saw someone like you and that you did behave uncouth, when requested by a shop assistant, whether you would purchase freely any items he was selling. He said the guy who ran the shop, was struggling hard to move his stock, but you just stood and browsed like at a library shelf and paid no attention to his financial health, so he worried, face full of panic and asked politely if you’d finished, but you answered in disdain that you would take your time and made it plain, that you would only buy a book, when ready, happy and fancy took, but that if you chose or not, you would sit and flick through all his goods. Now tell me, as I ask politely, is this behaviour ever helpful? And from a man who plays with words to treat a business so absurd, when all he wanted from your pocket, was some coins or for you to stop it, and in the end you hurt the most, as now your novel I’ll turn to toast. But now please do you understand, I judge you a dishonest man, for what I heard some bloke said you did or someone whose face did fit, an act of which I did not like and hope you struggle with your life. And finally, as my conclusion, I choose to think from all this fooling, that you and all your author kind, are all thieves from each others minds and only hope to make a buck, from selling me what you have got, yet never spend a penny where, I take the coins that pay your fair.

damned 44

Dear sir

 

This is my third attempt to pen this missive, I fear the technology is infected by some impish mischief.  I write with greatest respect for your work and magnificent efforts.  Please, before reading this letter, I ask only that you consider my words as those of kindness sent deeply to a person I hold in uppermost esteem and want only for the advancement of your glorious self.  When I first sat by my fireplace on that cold November evening, it was with a sense of awe and amazement that I perused the pages and was filled with joy at having received such a timely contribution to our cannon.  The subtlety of your prose, your elegant use of  superfluous adjectives, the way you underlined whole passages in bold for emphasis, all produced an atmosphere I cannot compare.  I was particularly fond of your repeated references to Hollywood movies that showed your engagement with culture in a way that could never be accused of plagiarism.  Yet sadly we must say no, as on this occasion we have been sent such a bounty of such literary adventures that we have decided to keep none of it.  Correct, this leaves us without a publication for December, but I fear it is the only way to make a fair selection.  We wish you the best in all your future endeavours and hope you understand why we leave our pages blank for now.

 

Yours sincerely

DHJ

 

(commissioned by his satanic majesties department for the quality assurance of torturous fandangoes. ” Transporto nos vestri consilium quod nos mos eat vestri liberi.”)

Faughty free

Your attempts at literature and continuous self promotion sicken me. I want to come over there and punch you in the face, whenever I see your name, you useless know nothing loser. Please stop sending me this trash.

Mum