Winston Corresponds: Tuesday Writing Essential

The door slammed shut behind Winston as he entered his apartment.  Without the lights on, he could smell the trash decaying like dead beach creatures in the kitchen can.  He sighed and decided to leave the lights off and just go right to his computer.

The whir of the Mac always made his heart beat a little faster, and he wiped the nervous perspiration from his palms onto his uniform trousers.  Yahoo Chat fired up, the little smiley face icon making him embarrassed that he used this program.  He scanned his 'friends' list and didn't see MsKnickers2 there, and was surprised to feel disappointed.  Recommitting to taking care of things right away, he realized that he had several unreturned emails still sitting in his inbox.

"Dear Xtabber,

Sorry it's been so long since I've written last.  Thanks for your advice on the opera agent.  I sent out my tape a couple of weeks ago, but haven't heard anything.  I'm a bit frustrated, as I told you, but not sure what else to do.

Hope all is going well with you and your writing.  I read what you sent over, but honestly, it's just not my thing.  I've never really cared for horror or supernatural stuff.  While the writing might be great, the topic is just not my favorite.  I can't give you much more feedback than that.

On a different note, you'll be pleased to know that no one barfed on any of my flights today.  :)  I find it a small but thrilling moment when I can say that.

Good luck and thanks again for your support,

Winston"

He watched the Outmail icon until his note was sent.  In the blueish glow of the monitor, he looked about his apartment.  The wall was filled with CD after CD as well as his prized stereo.  Reaching into his jacket pocket, Winston fingered the outline of the cassette tape, smooth and cool.  Pulling it out, he tossed it into the trash.  A blueish glimmer caught his eye, and he realized that the tape had caught on his jacket button.  Audio tape lay across his chest like some warped ribbon for losing the battle and the war.

Winston looked into the trashcan, following the tape like an ironic guiderope to disaster.  Pulling out the plastic cassette, he noticed that this tape was labeled with his name, address and phone number.

"Crawfish!" Winston spat.  He had only labeled one of the demo cassettes, so clearly the blank one had been sent.  Sinking down low in the chair, he wondered if his luck could be any worse.

In the darkened bedroom, a shadowy form sat quietly on the bed, the long knife lying neatly across the apparition's knees.