The Last Writer Adriane Leigh (story reading TXT) 📖

me not to invite something into our lives that isn’t welcome.”

I frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means I’ve fucked up a lot in the past, especially with the kind of people I seem to…” his eyes caught mine, “gravitate to.”

“Oh.” I didn’t know if that meant romantic partners, friends, business acquaintances, or all of the above, and I didn’t think I wanted to find out.

“He might be right.” Thax shrugged. “But what’s life without a little adventure?”

“Safe. That life is safe, and that sounds really great right now after spending the day reading a book like the one you gave me.”

He chuckled softly. “To each his own, I guess. I was thinking of digging into the last writer’s death for my essay—you know, like a fictionalized account or something.”

“That doesn’t sound very poetic, are you joining me over here on the popular fiction side of the coin now?”

He smiled. “Maybe.”

“Well, I found some lighter reading last night in the back of my closet.” I held Zara’s journal in the air. “I’m beginning to wonder if Zara was even real.”

“She is,” he affirmed.

“Maybe she changed her name after the book came out. I can’t imagine living with someone who wrote a story this dark. I’d sleep with one eye open.”

“Did you read any of the media articles or see the premier photos?”

I shook my head. “There was a movie premier?”

“Oh, just wait.” He pulled his phone out and tapped out a few words on the screen before flipping it to show me.

I cringed. “Is that Yara and Yarrow?”

“Yup. On their sixteenth birthday. The same year the first movie came out.” He swiped again, then flipped the phone my way. They stood side by side on the red carpet, icy-blonde hair straight as straw and cascading down their shoulders. They were nearly identical in height, and it almost looked like they wore powder on their skin to lighten it an even paler shade.

Everything about these twins was unnerving. I finally asked, “There was a second movie?”

Thax nodded. “Yara was the main character, Yarrow was in it but didn’t talk at all. Not even a single line, but he was in almost every scene. It was so creepy, creepier than the first in a totally different way. The relationship between the two of them was...odd, to say the least.”

“I don’t think that’s changed at all.”

Thax nodded his agreement. “It’s a famous story, especially for Long Islanders. I dunno what it is about Long Islanders and Lilies in the Cellar, but ask anyone about it and they have a story.”

“This explains more than I expected.” I ran my fingertips along the edge of the tiny journal. “I think I’m going to write a scene about two sisters.”

“Oh?” Thax grinned.

“One sweet, and one very evil.”

“Watch out, here she comes, creative fire ablaze.”

I smiled, feeling actually inspired for the first time since I’d gotten here. “Now that was the most poetic thing you’ve said since we’ve met.”

Thax laughed out loud and the librarian stood, walking stiffly but quickly across the room. “I’m sorry, I have to ask you to leave.”

“But we live here.” Thax shot her a challenging glance.

She arched an eyebrow, mouth popping open before he shot to his feet and shrugged. “Come on, Weaver, let's find inspiration elsewhere.” He hooked my wrist and hauled me from my chair.

The librarian looked alarmed as we passed and I mouthed her a soft sorry just as Thax threw open the heavy, cherry door of the reading room. We didn’t go far, pushing into the very next adjoining room meant for private study sessions.

The door closed with a solid thunk, leaving us alone.

“You ready to write, Weaver?” Thax pulled a notebook and pen from the inside of his jacket and plopped into a chair by the window. “We’ve got five hours until this is due...or else.”

I laughed, this time out loud, before settling in my own chair in the opposite corner. I folded my ankles, propped my notebook under my knee, and began scribbling longhand.

The thoughts flowed easily, the words appearing out of the ether and onto the page.

Sentences turned to paragraphs and reality faded as I lost myself in the opening chapter of two sisters: one of them evil.

I moved the setting to a small-town library to avoid any similarity with the real Yara, but she was my inspiration in fear.

Long after the sun had set over Thax’s shoulder, my fingers began to ache. My single page had turned to more than a dozen, the ending short and sinister—an ending I hoped would have the reader inspired to read more.

I was just untwisting my ankles when Thax whistled. “Just in the nick of time. We’ve got five minutes to get this up to the queen.”

I laughed, grateful for the distraction from my aching neck and sore back from my hunched position in the chair. “You think she’ll read it before class in the morning?”

“I bet she never reads any of the shit the writer’s write.”

“You think?” I scrunched my nose as we walked down the long hall, angling for the door that led to the private apartments.

“I wouldn’t.” Thax swung the door wide, letting me pass him.

We entered on the second floor, the same one Yara’s apartment was on. An instant shiver splintered my nerves as we slowed around the corner, the door halfway down the hall that contained one of the most commanding women I’d ever met.

“Not a minute to spare.” Thax huffed as we stopped outside the door. “What now?”

“Should we just stuff it under the door or what?” I’d half expected a basket at least.

“I don’t give a shit.” Thax tossed his notebook on the ground and turned to head to the stairwell. “I’m going out for a smoke, wanna come with me, Weaver?”

I shook my head, setting my notebook on top of Thax’s and then trailing after him down the hallway. “No thanks, dawn comes early when Yara is teaching.”

Thax paused at the stairwell. “Good night, sleep tight, Ryn.”

He