Bob scratched his head and glared at the screen. The screen glared back. He pressed the letter 'G'. The screen obeyed, displaying a G. Times New Roman. Size 12. 

The digits on the clock on the bottom right ticked over from 21:34 to 21:35.

Enough. He had stared at the screen for half an hour with nothing to show for it. Except the letter G. Not because he was going to write a word starting with G, but because the empty screen depressed him. 

The story had been so clear in his head as he was driving from work earlier that afternoon. He had turned the radio off to let the characters play out their suddenly inspired drama in his imagination, while all he had to do was watch and observe. He couldn't wait to get back home to write it all down. This was it! The beginning!

For as long as Bob could remember, his dream had been to write a book. Friends had bucket lists with activities like climbing mountains, jumping off planes, visiting the Maldives or getting drunk in Vegas. Bob just wanted to write a book. And if he was honest with himself, he didn't even care if the book was any good. Or a success. As long as one person purchased the book, he would be happy. Check - author!

Parking the car in the driveway, Bob was juggling 45 minutes worth of plot development and character dialogue in his head, trying to memorize the important parts for writing down. He could fill in the rest later, as long as he managed to write down the pivotal moments. But he could already feel the core narrative slipping away from him as he stumbled out of the car, eager to run up to his home office to write. 

As Bob opened the door; his darling, dearest, beautiful wife who he was so lucky to be with, dashed his hopes. 

"Rooobert," she yelled from upstairs when he opened the door. "Did you check your messages?"

No, of course I didn't bloody check my messages, Bob thought. He had consciously kept his phone in his pocket, so he wasn’t distracted from his exceptional story. 

"No. What is it?" he yelled back.

"Shopping list. I had to rush back to help Lucy get ready for practice, so I didn't go. Could you be a darling and pop out to pick up stuff for dinner?"

And that was it. He fumbled for the story, but as he feared, it had already departed. Bob mumbled “Yes, dear, ” under his breath as he unlocked the car door.

It was later the same evening, and he was battling fatigue as he tried to remember the brilliant dialogue he had planned to start Chapter 1. The only thing he remembered now was the feeling of elation in the pit of his stomach that had resulted from his own brilliance. That feeling was currently replaced with a mild case of reflux. Serves me right for drinking cheap beer this late.

He felt slightly resentful that the web based editor he had picked after a quick google search had added "Chapter 1" to the document by itself. He didn't even get to write the words out himself at the top of the page. That would almost have been like starting the book.

Instead, the screen was showing the letter G. Which didn’t feel like the start of a book.

A few minutes later, fatigue executed a power move, and knocked him out.

-

Knock, knock! Knock, knock! Knock, knock!

"Whaaat?!" Bob's voice was sleepy, angry, and confused. Someone was punching him in the head. Repeatedly. Helpfully saying "knock, knock" with each painful double-tap to his temple.

Bob opened his eyes and stared straight into… someone. Something. Terrified, he jumped to his feet. Or that is; he would have jumped to his feet if there was a reliable ground to jump from. Instead, the motion caused him to float up off his chair. Absurdly, his primary worry now became not hitting his head on the ceiling, and he lifted his arms up to cushion his trajectory. His confusion increased further when his hands felt something soft, smooth and... cottony? He looked up and found his hands stuck in what could only be… clouds. Waving his arms, he became transfixed by how the motion pulled the clouds around. He was starting to giggle when he remembered the apparition that had woken him, and his giggles turned to croaks of terror as he looked down.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

It... he... was still sitting there. Next to his office chair. On a... camping chair, complete with cup holder, fishing tackle and a broad-brimmed hat hanging off the back of the chair.

"Knock, knock! I said!" the creature called up after him, with a strangely uncanny number of teeth flashing with a grin that split the face - literally from ear to ear. For once, I use literally correctly, Bob thought to himself and felt another gigglecroak pushing its way up his throat.

Ah well. Whatever the fuck. When in Rome, as Alice said when she left Kansas.. "Er. Who's there?" Bob responded.

It should not have been possible, but the grin on the creature got even wider. Wonder if the split mouth meets at the back of his head?

"Woo!" the creature said.

I must be dreaming. Yes, that's it. Explains the cloud. The flying. And this fucker.

"Woo, who?" Bob eventually continued, groaning inwardly.

"Now, that is the spirit, my dear Robert!", the creature laughed and pushed himself up into the air, arresting its motion when it was directly in front of Bob.

"But seriously!" Bob tried to push himself away from the creature. Those teeth, man! "Who... what... are you?"

With that, the creature made a bow so elaborate Bob lost count of the number of arms, legs and other assorted limbs that suddenly sprouted from the creature's body to join the bow. Each appendix making its own little flourishing movement in perfect synchronization with the overall bow.

"My name, dear Robert, is Aglaophonus! My friends, and we shall surely become friends, call me Agla. And as to what I am... ". The creature... Aglaophonus... made another elaborate bow. Somehow, this was a completely different bow, although many of the same limbs were involved. "... I am a siren!"

"You're a what??" Bob tried to stay at a distance where he was pretty sure none of the limbs could reach him.

"A siren!". Aglaophonus did something to his expression and body language, which conveyed both disappointment and confusion that Bob had not recognized the name. "You may recall us from the old Greek tragedies?"

"Oh!" Bob exclaimed. "That's right. You were those creatures who sang so badly the sailors wanted to jump out of their ships to escape the sound?"

At this, the siren looked absolutely furious. "Take that back right now, good sir! Surely, you are jesting?"

"Never mind that." Bob said. "Why are you here? In my dream? I never dream about weird shit like this. My dreams are about spreadsheets and risk assessments. I don't think I've even thought about sirens since high school!"

Aglaophonus seemed to consider that. Some of the fury had abated, or perhaps it had only been for show. Eventually, he answered. "It is like this: you have a problem. I have a problem. And if we help each other, I think we will both be very... happy with the outcome."

"What do you mean?"

"I couldn't help but notice your ... lack of inspiration earlier. Page still blank, eh?"

Bob remembered the empty screen. "Well, no. I have written the letter G, " he replied, not sure if he was trying to be defensive or funny.

Aglaophonus simply stared at him until Bob felt the need to break the silence. "Anyway, how can you help that? I simply don't have it in me to be an author. No weird dream will fix that."

"Not right now, you don't!" the siren said with a wink and a grin. " But let me see what I can do… Don't be surprised now!" he said, and snapped his fingers.

[New Skill: Plotting (1/10)]

The text was in that old computer font. Bob knew it well. He had coded a few million lines of code staring at that font. Courier New, and with the same brownish yellow on dark blue that was so popular back in the 90s in all the editors. Looking at the text brought back memories of bugs he had struggled with back then.

Wait! Bob was suddenly drawn back from his musing about figuring out C-pointers. What does that mean...?

"Want to know what that was?" Aglaophonus said with one of his trademark head-is-now-split-in-two grins. "Wakey, wakey - rise and shine!"

-

Bob woke with a start, nearly knocking his beer over. 

That was the weirdest dream ever. He looked up at the letter 'G', and was suddenly struck by... inspiration?

His fingers found the keyboard, and he started;

Captain Josh had a choice. Either he died, or Jake had to go. He loved his twin, but not as much as he would love seeing the devastating sadness on their mother's face when he told her Jake was dead.....