The Life of a Story

         "!Hello."
         "Hi, this is Fiona."
         "Who?"
         "Fiona."
         "I don't know anyone named Fiona."
         "Yes, you do, you know me intimately."
         "What? I've never known anyone named Fiona. I do not know you! How did you get this number? it's not listed."
         "You do know me, you know all there is to know about me, but it's not enough. You aren't going to believe this, but I need you to give me more."
         "Give you more what? I've never given you anything? Leave me alone, I'm in the middle of a killer writers block and I can't deal with crazies right now. Good bye!"
         "Hello?"
         "Don't hang up, we must talk, you have to help me, I'll be dead in six months."
         "Dead? Dead how? And, what do I have to do with it, I DO NOT KNOW YOU, goodbye!"
         "Hello? If it's you again I'm calling the cops. I don't need harassment. Good b..."
         "TANIT!"
         "What? What did you say? Tanit was a Phoenician goddess in a story I wrote ten years ago. How do you know that name?"
         "I was there."
         "There, what the hell are you talk—"
         "Your girlfriend at the end."
         "Oh . My . God, Fiona—"
         "I know, it's hard to grasp, but I'm almost gone, and I need you to write another story to keep me alive, soon too."
         "This is insane! I've lost my mind and I'm hallucin—"
         "No! I've existed since you published me. Each story gives the MC a ten year life, the story must continue so I can continue. I am in love with you so write a good story for us. This time I'd appreciate less sex and a lot more intimacy."
         "Wait a minute!"
         “I love the sex, but make this one erotic without being ‘Erotica.’”
         “Wait… Damn! Where’s that story…”