Just so that we’re all clear, the Deluxe Edition just means it’s the 3 parts to Stephen Bosch’s story, all wrapped up into 1 post, just for all like 4 people who read this! Enjoy!
The offices of Blah Blah Publishing were quiet. Mrs. Thomas sat behind her desk, enjoying the sun on her back, from her office right on the top floor of the building (34th floor)
She was reading the first three chapters of a book called The Starving Games. When one of her employees found something worthwhile through the hundreds of manuscripts they received everyday, a copy was made, and sent straight to Mrs. Thomas. She did own the company after all. Whenever there was something really eye catching, a copy was slammed onto her desk. She would then have a big say in whether Blah Blah Publishing would try and pursue the book.
She finished her copy of The Starving Games, set it down, and sat back in her leather desk chair. It was good. It had certainly gripped her, but, was it enough?
She pressed the little intercom button on her desk that was directly linked to the one on her assistants desk just next door to this one.
“Karen? I need that Stephen Bosch’s number, and a cup of coffee straight away.”
“Right away Mrs. Thomas.”
She leaned back again, deciding whether or not she should call Stephen or not.
She sat still, thinking, until her assistant Karen walked through the door, holding a cup of steaming hot coffee and small piece of paper, which Mrs. Thomas could see had a number written very neatly on it.
“Thank you Karen.” said Mrs. Thomas, smiling warmly up to her assistant from her desk.
“Only a pleasure Mrs. Thomas. I’ll be right next door if you need anything.” and she left the office, silently shutting the door behind her.
Mrs. Thomas stared at the little piece of paper that Karen had brought her. She had never made a decision so quickly about a book, but something about The Starving Games was urging her to pick up the telephone and give Stephen a call. So that’s exactly what she did. The phone rang 3 times, until it was picked up, and a deep, sleepy voice answered.
“Hello? Who is this?”
Mrs. Thomas spoke instantly.
“Mr Bosch, my name is Mrs. Thomas, and I work at Blah Blah Publishing. You were the one who sent in The Starving Games, am I correct?” She spoke very slowly, allowing Stephens mind to wake up and understand her at the same time.
“Blah Blah Publishing… The Starving Games… Yes, that was me.” He still sounded half asleep.
“I was wondering if we could meet Mr. Bosch, to discuss The Starving Games?
“Um, yes! Of course!” He didn’t sound like he had been sleeping at all now. On the contrary, he sounded extremely excited. “When and where do you want to meet?”
Mrs. Thomas didn’t speak for a moment, until finally saying; “How about M&T? Grab a cup of coffee. Say… half an hour from now?”
“Yes! I’ll be there! Thank you so much Mrs. Thomas!”
“Good-bye Mr. Bosch”
End of Part 1
The new car felt powerful, while he gripped the steering wheel with relish.He pushed his foot a little harder on the accelerator, and felt the speed increase almost at once.
Stephen Bosch had just bought the new car, was only just leaving the Tesler dealership.
It would have cost most normal people an arm and a leg, but Stephen was not a normal person. Twenty years ago – he had been a nobody – but now… things were different. Time had just named him “The most influential writer of the decade” after all.
The thought brought an unwilling grin to his face.
The car was of a deep red colour, and was, in Stephen’s eyes, at least, perfection. Mr. Pitt had tried extremely hard to get him to pay an extra fifty-thousand for it – for it was an early model, and very, very, hard to find. He had managed to get it from Mr. Pitt for what he considered was a steal.
Stephen drove along the Californian streets, drinking in the dazzling sunlight. Heads turned as he drove down the sunlit pavement, which made him appreciate the tinted windows that surrounded him, very much. He definitely did not need the paparazzi following him. Not again. He had moved three times in the last year alone, because the paparazzi, always managed to find him. He hated them, with all his heart. They had driven his family away from him. His wife had said that she and her children couldn’t deal with the attention.
The thought caused the smile that had just been on Stephen’s face a few minutes before – was gone, as quickly as it had come. He told himself to not think about that. It had been thirteen years ago. He was past it.
As he drove the thought of his wife and children from his mind, he drove into his driveway at exactly the same moment. His house was… well, there was no other word for it. It was gargantuan. Much bigger than any house needed to be. Although, if he hadn’t bought this house, there was no way he could have installed the indoor football pitch, nor have a home theater put in.
He stepped thought his front door, looking around after he had locked the front door behind himself. Lining the hallway, were all the books he had written, all first editions, of course. It had all begun with ‘The Starving Games’, twenty years before, and his collection had gradually grown to include his critically acclaimed ‘Goosepimples’ Series. They had been a massive hit for children. The profits of the first 3 had bought him his house, and the last 2 had just bought his new Tesler which was safely in his garage now.
The first ‘Goosepimples’ book, had also been the first of his books not ti be published by Blah Blah Publishing. Everything was handled by Wingdings agencies, now. He’d had a rather sticky end with Blah Blah Publishing, soon after the third and final installment of ‘The Starving Games’. Apparently, Mrs Thomas had been quite ‘taken’ with Stephen, even though Stephen had a thing for her assistant, Karen.
Mrs Thomas didn’t like this at all, and had one day in a rage when she had heard the news of her client and assistant dating, had thrown the vase that usually sat on her desk at him. Stephen phoned his agent that same day, and refused to go back to Blah Blah Publishing. Karen had also quit out of solidarity for Stephen. The two ended up getting married, and having two children, Grant, and Devon. The three of them, were now gone. Apparently she had moved to South Africa, to where her parents were.
A few weeks passed uneventfully. Stephen had just moved onto writing his last three chapters of the latest ‘Goosepimples’, when he received a phone-call while he was sitting in his study, researching Ancient Egyptians, for the ending of his story.
He answered the phone-call, and a familiar voice spoke through the speaker. It was Mrs Thomas.
“Stephen. How are you?” Her tone was cold and blunt.
Stephen was aghast. Why was Mrs Thomas calling after all this time?
“Um, Hi, Mrs Thomas.” His tone was calm, but inside he had no idea what he was going to do.
“We need to meet. Tonight. You won’t want to miss this, I promise you. Seven ‘o clock. M&B.”
The phone hung up abruptly.
Feeling bewildered, Stephen wondered what on Earth could have made Mrs Thomas phone him now, after all these years. He had no intention of not going. Her tone had made it clear enough, that we would not want to miss it.
He walked into M&B, and looked around for Mrs Thomas. She was never late for anything, so he knew she was here, somewhere. He spotted her sitting at a table right at the very back. He made his way over, slow as he could manage.
“Mrs Thomas, whats going on, why did you call -”
His voice trailed away, for she had just thrown something down onto the table in front of him. It was a brown, A4 sized envelope.
Puzzled, Stephen hastened to open it.
What he saw made him gasp.
“Yes. I know.” Her thin mouth curled into an ugly smile.
Stephen was still in shock – there was no way that she could have possibly known, no way she could have possibly found out. But there was no denying the photos that were held clutched tight in his hand.
He raised his head slowly up to her, and she broke into a small laugh.
“Ah, Stephen, you’re going to do exactly as I say. Do you understand me?” Still chuckling slightly as she spoke.
All Stephen could do was nod.
End of Part 2
The streets seemed to hate Stephen Bosch. Maybe they didn’t like his hair, maybe it was because he had just stolen an apple from a street vendor not only five minutes ago. Whatever the reason, the streets always seemed to be cold – just for him.
He wrapped his jacket a bit tighter on himself, and carried on walking.
No destination in sight. Just walking.
Music suddenly started blaring from further onward down the street. His favourite song actually – Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Just another tactic the streets were using to taunt him. It was coming from an extremely familiar house, one that only Stephen Bosch knew so well. He thought his spirits couldn’t be any lowered, so he walked towards the music, and what used to be his house.
“Step right up! Step right up! Stephen Bosch’s famous house is up for auction folks! The author of ‘Goosepimples’ and ‘The Starving Games’! Yes people, this is really happening! Also going along with this magnificent house will be – Oh, look who’s here – Mr. Stephen Bosch himself!”
The sizable crowd that was milling around the lawn of his old home, all turned around and gasped, and instantly started booing.
“You are a disgusting, disgusting man!” a high pitched voice sounded from somewhere at the back of the crowd. And then another, coming somewhere from the middle:
“Alright, alright, I’m leaving!” He had to shout to make his voice heard. He turned on the spot and carried on walking. He heard the distinct sound of someone spitting and felt something hit his back. He didn’t even stop walking. As sad as it sounded, this was a normal occurrence for Stephen Bosch.
Ever since Mrs. Thomas leaked those pictures…
The walk went on for another ten minutes before he turned down into an alley, and to the front door of his little apartment. He had been afraid to live in such a shady alleyway, but the homeless guy that usually stayed in the box next to the trashcan was actually a nice guy. Dean wasn’t here now though. He said his other spot was somewhere a few blocks from here. Never stay in one place, that was Deans motto. He seemed so upbeat for a homeless guy.
“Hi there Stitch!”
The little white cat came running up towards Stephen Bosch, and ran in-between his legs, his tail lifting instantly and purring madly.
Stitch was the only reason Stephen carried on going. It was the only living thing that didn’t seem to hate him, which Stephen Bosch conceded to believe that this was due to the fact that Stitch was a cat.
He stopped scratching the cats ears, and stood up straight, walking towards the kitchen.
The flat was a one bedroom, one bathroom set up, and fairly cheap. Which was all Stephen could afford these days. Bus window cleaning didn’t pay too well, to be fair. Life continued and Stephen continued to be miserable with everything apart from Stitch. Eight months passed before it happened.
Stephen woke up one morning and woke to find that Stitch wasn’t in his bed, next to Stephens own bed. This was odd, especially since it was winter and Stitch usually always slept until Stephen woke up.
Stephen walked into the kitchen and found Stitch lying on the floor, completely still. Immediately, Stephen Bosch knelt down and felt the cats unmoving chest. Nothing at all. Stitch was dead. The one thing that made Stephen Bosch continue and get up each morning, and actually bring him some little joy – was now gone. Forever.
The Daily Times
Stephen Bosch – famous author of “The Starving Games” and “Goosepimples” – has been discovered dead in his apartment. Police say that the death was caused by a suicide.
Read more on page 13>
End of Story