Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mimicking the frantic drumming in Amelia's chest. She rubbed her eyes, feeling the grit of sleeplessness. Another rejection email. Another day spent wrestling with words that wouldn't cooperate. She slumped further into her armchair, the worn upholstery offering little comfort. Her gaze drifted to the bookshelf, landing on the familiar spine of "Crimson Tides," her absolute favorite novel, penned by the literary giant, Julian Blackwood. A warm, fuzzy feeling usually arose in her heart just looking at the book. Now, a cold knot formed in her stomach as she opened a browser, and began to research.

The screen illuminated her face, reflecting the growing horror blossoming within her. Side-by-side comparisons of Blackwood's prose with obscure online forums and long-forgotten self-published works swam before her. She scrolled through page after page, each revelation a fresh blow. Her hands trembled as the evidence mounted. The man she idolized, the author of her dreams, had stolen those dreams from others. She slowly rose and went to the kitchen and drank a glass of water.