Somewhere in the well of night, he discovered streams of energy and creativity. With Amazon streaming a movie, the cats asleep in the office around him and a single desk lamp on, he started typing short stories. None of them were greater than three thousand words. Most were flash fiction.
Three movies later, dawn’s light was creeping in around the blinds. He was spent. Normally, he would then pragmatically edit the stories before submitting them. This time, he thought, what the hell. A few were submitted for publication but six of them were just posted on his blog. Basking in the glow of his accomplishments, he was surprised and pleased to see one quickly collected views and likes.
Then there was a comment awaiting approval. Opening it up, he read, “I don’t know how you found out the truth, but you should not have published it, you fucking idiot. They’re going to come for you. Resign yourself because you can’t hide. They will kill you. Do what you can to save all your loved ones.”
He read through the comment three times, furrowing his brow more with each reading. It didn’t make any sense at all.
These stories were all science fiction.