Letter from a Worried Wife

Dear Storymaster and Storymistress

I write this letter to solicit your active cooperation in rescuing my beloved husband, Professor Moriarty from a terrible illness.  Let me first enumerate the facts of the case before you decide whether I am deserving of any consideration. I was living an extremely happy married life with my husband and two children until the cataclysmic event of 16^th May 2009. On that day, my husband became a member of WDC. Since then our lives have irrevocably changed.

I would like to bring to your notice the following peculiar characteristics exhibited by my husband who is otherwise a perfectly sane, logical and sociable man.

1. His biological clock is adjusted so he can wake up at 3 am every morning. He first checks if I am sleeping.  I know because I caught him once by pretending to be asleep. Then, he creeps into his study and logs into WDC. When I confronted him, he admitted with a sheepish grin that because of the time difference, his WDC friends would be online at that time.
2. He feigns illness on weekends so he can stay at home and devote his time to writing stories and giving reviews. My children and I are feeling terribly neglected.
3.  At home, he prefers solitary confinement in his study. Once, when he left the door ajar, I peeked inside the room and found him absorbed in murmuring some strange dialogues. When he saw me, he explained that he was trying to feel and behave like the characters of his story.
4. My girlfriends caught him snooping and eavesdropping on us.  Later, when I told him how much his abominable behavior had embarrassed me, he simply shrugged it off, saying that ladies’ gossip was a font of interesting ideas for writing stories.
5. For the last several months I have failed to impress upon him that it is high time he went for his regular medical checkup. He has been postponing this because every time a contest deadline is there to catch up with.
6.  A couple of weeks back he slipped into a major depression for a day. He skipped his meals and maintained a stoical silence. I called up his secretary who informed that even at office he had behaved strangely the whole day for no apparent rhyme or reason. A few days later, he confided that he was bidding for a package in a WDC auction where he lost out due to the time difference. He was driving to office when the auction ended and someone else had slipped in a marginally higher bid.
You will admit that the above characteristics border on the fringes of insanity. Hence, dear SMs, it is my earnest plea to you to make WDC a less interesting place so that I can get my husband back, and my children can once again have their father’s love.

Thanking you.

Yours Sincerely,

Mrs. Moriarty.

Word Count: 490