Misery's Bound

A Story by Abishai100

A prized author falls into an insanity-pit with an obsessed-fan, yielding a 'dark' image of (American) story-distance.

An adaptation/fanfiction of Misery (Stephen King). Hope you like it,

DISCLAIMER: This work of fanfiction offers no ties to the original/referenced work of inspiration (Stephen King) and all images/references used herein comprise a purely 'personal' expression for creative language-arts (for 'open' view).

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MR. AMLAN SATAN: "I've it all; a lovely mail-order-bride, a Pulitzer for my football-misery novel concept, and a Thanksgiving-TV culture sports-media image 'trophy' to feather it all...this timeshare (Berkshires) getaway's what I need more than anything, and my publisher-house consultant-lady (Danica) has me slated for no-PR statements for why I'd need this vacation for retirement-view...perhaps for 'cool' Facebook like."

Amlan really did have it all, as his press-statement/disclosure had revealed for the cyber-fanzine (Dartmouth) where he began his career in 'social folklore' and continued to pronounce culture-images and superstitions for transit and 'behavioral' activities, and his prize-winning work, about a rookie-QB sensation in a holiday-season football 'town' drawing Super Bowl premonitions-IQ for a Western move/trade in the American pro-level spirits draft-and-exchanges 'culture' of profits and field goals, One-Quarter-Work, reminded audiences (and his cheering fans!) of the haunting 'ghost-magic' of choreographed ambitions yielding a special 'flare' for what's a Homeland charm in bureaucracy's briefcase (wow).

KATHY: So good to have you here in the Berkshires, Mr. Amlan Satan.
AMLAN: Thanx for having me here, um, Kathy, but I feel like a fool, ok.
KATHY: Don't worry, brilliant prized cyber-writer; I'm your angel-nurse.
AMLAN: That patch of ice veered my (rented) Volvo; now I'm yours!
KATHY: I didn't call the medics, since I'm a qualified health-servicer, ok.
AMLAN: I don't understand why you'd like me to make this sequel (for you?).

KATHY: Damn it, it's been 2 months now, and you've only 100 pages written!
AMLAN: Kathy, I'm really coming unbound here, with you; this is craziness.
KATHY: You're my hostage now, brilliance-man, and you'll complete the work!
AMLAN: I need help; I thought you were a kind nurse and typical fan, Kathy.
KATHY: I'm your supreme-fan, and that's why you owe me, idiot (now write!).
AMLAN: Jesus, I thought this was to be a Berkshires-Selfie motive (for chess).

KATHY: Wrong-o (now write...for Facebook too, idiot).

Things became evil. Kathy, rescuing the prized Algerian-American football-writer and treasure-superstitions keeper (from Dartmouth), in a New England lonely-road late-night ice-slick crash pit, had now 'transformed' her vision of literature appreciation and sequel-creation 'nudging' into outright criminal-insanity drawn 'insistence' for a completion of a sequel to Amlan's original Pulitzer-novel about football field goals. Sure, she fed him, his fave luchi-bread plates for brunch every Saturday, but she refused to let him escape after first 'cajoling' him to hide-out in her timeshare apartment so as to avoid medics-media with his poor ice-car crash. This wasn't Thanksgiving bread for Satan (Amlan).

DANICA: You shot her with a silencer.

AMLAN: Who'd think that old batty-nurse crazy woman had a silencer?

DANICA: Self-defense...please don't worry (about it!).

AMLAN: Well...at least I can scrap that crappy sequel notion.

DANICA: You should write something more (still), as restoration(s).

AMLAN: You're right-o; I was thinking of a tale of bad romance (something).

DANICA: Sounds cool (Facebook like).

Mr. Amlan Satan wouldn't forget his misadventure in the Berkshires, and he returned the following autumn for a nice retreat, with his new girlfriend, following a horrid (publicized) divorce, hoping to capture this new lease on life following that 'evil' trauma, and he wanted find some flare or sportsmanship daydream for simple wound transcendence (for bureaucracy).