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Description
Anna was a small-time writer in Minneapolis. She wrote books that she considered to be works of art but the critics and publishers rebuffed her. Her book Dying Hard with Bruce Willis had barely sold 50 copies. Her roommate , a black lady by the name of Josaphanna, paid 2 thirds of the rent in their shoddy little apartment. That Saturday Anna was buying another ink cartridge for her fountain pen. She was a slightly old fashioned women. She was only 30 but she admired fountain pens for their elegance on paper. Unfortunately that was another reason she didn't succeed. Her handwriting simply was not legible.
She found an ink cartridge on the shelf. It was one she had never seen before so she decided to try it out. She purchased it and started walking home. She looked at the package and read it's advertising. Increase performance on anything you write! She smiled at the advertising. It was very corny as it promised things that were far out of their control. She got home and loaded the the cartridge into her pen. Then she sat down on her busted old couch to brainstorm ideas. Finally an idea came to her but albeit not a good one.
"The ancestor of a Nazi with amnesia is brainwashed to be Anti-Semitic but then he turns on all religions as well? Yep that's a good story going to work on that one now. She started writing the first page.
"Franz was going to meet someone he had never met before. He had lost his memory for everything except his name and instructions in his hand when he woke up in the alley in Seattle. "Go to you uncle on Briar Street. He shall provide the answers. Franz knocked on the door of the house."
Anna was very very inadequate in her wording on all of her books. Suddenly she heard a knock on the door. "Strange she thought Josaphanna wouldn't be off work yet." She got up and opened the door. There was a tall white man who looked very confused.
"Hello I'm looking for a Ferdinand Schumacher. Does he love here by any chance? Also what day is it? I think I bumped my head and I can't remember."
"Ummm... sorry no one named that lives here."
She shut the door and walked back inside. It was weird. The exact same circumstance that was in her book happened in real life. Toying with an idea in her head she picked up the pen and wrote.
"Then Franz got very depressed and stabbed himself. She walked outside and looked down the hall and saw the man she had just talked to lying dead on the ground with a knife protruding through his chest. She ran back inside and put her paper through the shredder. She ran back outside and discovered the man gone along with the books and knife as if he had never been there at all. She knew that the ink was indeed special. She tore out a clean sheet of paper and started to write. "There was a girl named Anna Kendrick who lived in Minneapolis. Her wonderful books were not good to the collection of idiots that called themselves publishers. But suddenly her books were loved by all that read them. She made millions in less than a day." Then she sat back and waited for the phone to start ringing. 30 minutes later her phone rang and she picked it up. Her publishers were calling and telling her the great news. In the last 30 minutes her books were the top bestseller. Her new bank account was getting money faster than a jet taking off. In her head she thought of what she could do with this ink. Tearing out a clean sheet of paper she put her own down and set to work.