Blast! He couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was wrong. It kept niggling at him. He’d made his way through to chapter five but he couldn’t help thinking that the beginning of chapter three didn’t work. He scrolled back over the pages. The passage left him ill at ease. It was hard to put in words. The story was frankly too thin. It wasn’t just that the story was less credible. Something else was struggling to get through. He’d tried re-writing it, but he was no longer engrossed in that part of the story and re-writing it felt like hacking away with an axe, however subtly he tried. Now bits and pieces of the story hung disgustingly loose letting fragments of other stories push their way through the gaps he’d left, contaminating the characters. When he looked closer, the whole surface was teeming with pulsing fragments of stories vying for a place in the light or struggling to make off with a character. Many of them were dark and sinister. The sight not only disgusted him, it filled him with deep apprehension. If he couldn’t heal the wounds, that wild underlife would continue to crawl out and burrow its way into the characters and take over the whole story.
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