How could he have forgotten! It was so simple, yet he'd still forgotten. It happened each year, at almost the same time; the national competition to become the best writer of the month. Or really, to become the writer that wrote a lot of words in a month. But the result of the competition is the same, just write a lot and win!
Markus sat in front of his computer, not sure of what to do. Well, not sure of what to do right now. He was pretty sure that he would start writing relatively soon after this moment. But right now? Not a clue. It was because he had almost missed his chance at winning, at joining the most glorious of competitions that there could be had.
The competition, known to some as NanoWriteMonth, was a competition for all of Solovy's inhabitants to write 55,555 words within a month. The price would be glory akin to only the most successful of writers. It was something every person of Solovy could enter and where competition was fair, and the glory fairer. Although everyone could enter, not everyone was up to the task. Writing 55,555 words a month is near to writing two thousand words a day. Not everyone had the time for such things.
And neither had Markus. Especially now that he had started nearly two weeks after the start of the competition! It was really only eleven days into the month, but it felt like longer.
To be honest, Markus hadn't really thought about the competition in the last few years. It had only come to his mind by happenstance. Or, well, something like that. Point of the matter was that he'd forgotten all about the competition, but now that he knew of it again he so desperately wanted to join! To be there on the podium (he assumed there would be one) when the price was awarded! To finally be acknowledged as more than just Markus, but as Markus the Writer!
The excitement of the idea of winning brought him a sudden coughing fit. He really should clean his apartment one of these days, considering he was allergic to dust and all.
It was a good apartment, all things considered. The walls were of lacquered wood with windows that filled a good part of its content. Markus liked the wood. It made him thing of trees, of adventure, of not being inside an apartment.
He sighed and stood up. Picking up his stone mug, he walked towards his bedroom where he had running water. Not that he didn't have running water in the rest of his house, but it was the least distance to walk from his desk. It was a bit odd to have a sink with a faucet inside of your bedroom, but he came to enjoy the thing. Especially for occasions as this when he couldn't be bothered to walk the few paces more to get to his kitchen.
Markus turned the faucet on, took a quick sip, filled his mug, and turned it off again. He figured he'd spent enough time in the now, it was time to get to the soon part. It was time to start writing.
Markus shut the door to his bedroom. With a few quick steps he was back at his desk, his computer still on. "Alright," he said, "let's get started". He took a seat, looked out of the window for a bit, and turned to face his monitor.
After a few minutes of staring at his monitor, nothing had been written yet. "Man, I knew this was going to be harder than I'd initially thought. But I didn't think it would be this bad!" Markus took a sip of his water and took a long breath. "The first step is always the hardest. What ever am I going to write about?" He thought for a moment if he should just stop talking and start writing whatever came into his head. He thought a bit longer, and decided it was better than only thinking about it. So he wrote his first words.
Once upon a time, in a far away land, there lived a man of not little renown. It was a man both feared and loved by the ones around him. A man who could make the sky itself shake with but a snap of his fingers. The man was a wizard. Merlin they called hi-
Markus sighed. He shouldn't just copy the Legend of King Arthur. It would surely be seen as plagiarism and then all of his efforts would be for nothing. Maybe writing the first thing that came to mind wasn't such a great idea after all. But what if I name the wizard something else? Markus thought. If he isn't called Merlin, and the king isn't called Arthur, then maybe I can get away with it. It seemed plausible, though not very. It would be obvious what the story was as soon as he wrote the part about the sword in the stone .
Markus did like the idea of a story about wizards, though. Maybe he could combine a few stories about wizards and end up creating something unique? To do so he would first need to do research. But research sounded a lot like procrastination at this point. Then perhaps he should write the second thing that came to mind.
There he was, at the end of Time. And he'd done it again. He'd won. But it had cost him the world.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
"Nice!" exclaimed Markus. "Now that's the beginning of a story I haven't read yet!" All he had to do now was write the rest of the first chapter. Only nearly two thousand words left to go. Markus took another sip from his mug. He noticed that water had started to warm up since the previous sip, so he moved it a bit further from his computer away.
"Now how do I make this person into a wizard? I could casually point out that he has a funny hat, but that would be too obvious. Perhaps something subtle, like saying he'd cast something that made him win?"
But it had cost him the world. The man, called Markous (hey, a little self insertion can't hurt), had won only by a small margin. That margin was his own life. It had taken everything else to win. Everything else. What he'd cast today had been beyond him not a month ago. But things had changed in that month. He himself most of all. And now it was over.
"Yeah, real subtle that. Sounds almost like this Markous guy is a fisher, if not for the whole 'end of time' business." Markus did a quick check of the word count. Yep, still almost two thousand words left to write. "Okay, less monologuing and more writing". Markus flexed his fingers a few times to get them ready for the coming stretch of words.
It had started as such a simple thing; a single pure black flower with the exception of one white petal. That alone would hardly be dangerous, but it was the disease that had come along with it. The flower gave of a soft black powder when touched. It was the powder that was the problem. It was hard to detect after a few minutes, each particle as small as a spec of dust. Most of it would blow away on the wind, but whatever of it stuck to your skin would not come off.
It had spread quickly, but with little effect. It mostly upset those who wanted to look impeccable, but seemed rather harmless. When left alone long enough though, it would spread. It usually took a few days, but never more than a week. No spell or medicine was effective at removing it. Not even cutting your flesh could do it. Once it touched you, it would slowly enter your blood. It would-
"Aaand now its a psychological horror." Markus scratched his nose with his thumb. This story writing proved quite difficult indeed. He knew it would be, since he had no experience with it. Well, he did have a experience, but only one. It had been a NanoWriteMonth a few years, or really a lot of years, back. He'd gotten to chapter seven then. But at least back then he'd started writing only a single week after the start of the competition.
"Maybe I should just plagiarize myself," Markus thought, " That way its still my own work, and I won't have to think too hard about what to write this time." He scratched his nose again, took another sip of water, and tried again.
It had started as a simple thing. The day had gotten only a little shorter at first. But then ever so slowly the days had started to shorten more and more. The astronomers were the first to notice, of course. Although Markous liked to believe he'd noticed it before they announced their finding. Back then he hadn't know much magic. In fact, Markous had only just started on his road to fame and glory that was wizardry. Others of more skill, wizards like Merlin (who doesn't like a reference now and then?), had tried and failed to lengthen the days again. Eventually though, through the combined skill of many they had managed to restrict the length of a day to exactly twenty three hours.
Markus sighed again. Although this was no longer as foreboding as the black dust story, it was a bit silly. Markus looked through the window and out over the street. The street was starting to turn yellow. Well, not the street itself, thought Markus, but it surely seems like it. It meant the sun was setting. Which meant that there wasn't much time left before he'd have to call it a day if he wanted any time to sleep and still wake at his usual time. Just a few more paragraphs. I want to at least write down why the man was at the end of time. And so he stretched out his arms, took another sip of his quickly emptying mug, and continued where he'd left off.
Although there had been a lot of commotion in the first few weeks of the discovery, it had quickly reduced when it seemed the day had stabilized. But it wasn't forgotten. Markous hadn't forgotten. Nor had any of the wizards that held up the construct to stabilize the time of a day. It had become less frightening in a way, but not forgotten. Which turned out to be a good thing when the time that was within a day started to lengthen instead. Such a silly thing, when he thought about it now. They had made the construct so it would prevent shortening, but not to prevent lengthening.
"What is there to fear if our days become as long as the were before?" Said some people. "Surely it wouldn't go past what it was before. And if it does, then surely not much more than what it shortened." But they didn't realize that a long day was almost as bad as a short day. What was even worse though, was the constant shift of the length.
Some months saw a lengthening. Then the following months would have nothing happening, until suddenly it started shrinking twice as hard. Other times it would just continue lengthening until the proper construct was put in place. It was though on the crop yields. It was tough on the people of the land. But people, nature, can learn to adapt.
It was Markous who, after his graduation from the academia of "The Order of the First Champion", discovered a way to stabilize even the erratic behavior of time. It had been an accident really, but he discovered it nonetheless.
A bell sounded. Markus looked at the time. It was ten-o-clock. He looked at the page again. Not nearly two thousand words, but at least he had some idea where to go with the story now. It would have to do for a first chapter.