"Calm down, Walter," replied Marcus. He blew on the surface of his tea, but did not yet take a sip. He was apparently not yet ready to chance being scalded. He looked away from Walter, seemingly mesmerized by the steam rising from his cup and then continued as if in a dreamstate. "There's no need to get upset."
"No need? Are you kidding me? You have me trapped in here!"
"I don't have you trapped Walter. Mother nature has you trapped. Look outside"
Walter glanced out of the window at the falling snow. Marcus continued.
"I am powerful, Walter. Of that there can be no doubt, but do you really think I can make it snow 5 feet in a day?"
Walter waited for a moment and tried to regain his composure before speaking.
"Forget the snow. You are not Kathy Bates. This is not the set of Misery. I am not a writer. I'm a tax accountant from Duluth."
"Oh, but you are a writer, Walter. You should know that, by now. I'm only here because you sent for me."
"Sent for you? I came here to___"
"You came here to spend time with me. I know that, and I appreciate it. Believe me...more than you will ever know, but____."
"This isn't happening. You aren't here. You're not real."
Marcus's brow furled as if he were deep in thought and then released. Before Walter could respond, Marcus lashed out, hurling the contents of his tea cup at Walter's chest. shock gave way to agony as the tea penetrated his silk shirt, the t-shirt underneath and then made contact with his bare chest. It felt like lava stinging his flesh.Walter screamed and tried to peel the layers that felt like they'd been welded to his flesh. Marcus smiled. "Real enough for ya'?"
"What'd you do that for?"
"You said I wasn't real"
"Well, let's face it. You can't be."
"And yet, here I am."
"Well, go away!"
"I'm sorry. I can't do that. You won't let me."
"I won't____What the___You're not making any sense. You trapped me here...Not the other way around!"
"Stop being so dramatic, Walter. Keep in mind, that you asked me here."
"I asked....No! I didn't ask you here. I____."
"Did you or did you not tell Sarah that you were coming to the cabin this weekend to spend some time with me?"
"That is not what I____."
"Yes it is!"
"No. I said I was coming to the cabin to get some alone time and to work on the novel I've been thinking about."
"You said you aren't a writer."
"I'm not. I love my job, but everyone has one good novel in them. I___."
"So you admit then, that you did come to the woods to spend time with me, this weekend?"
"No... I came here to write... to be by myself...."
"Oh yeah? What are you writing about?"
Walter stopped speaking for a moment. He felt trapped by the answer. He chewed the side of his lip for a brief moment and then whispered,"you."
Marcus put his hands together as joy spread across his face. "At last! he smiled. We've come to it!" "But you weren't supposed to be.... I mean... well... I made you up. You aren't supposed to be....."
"What? Real?"
"Yeah!"
"Why not?"
"Because, it's just not the way it's....done!"
"Who says?"
Walter didn't have an answer.
"Have you ever done this before?"
"No"
"Then, how do you know it's not the way it's done?"
"Because people would talk."
"What people?"
"Other writers."
"Why would they do that?"
"I dunno... I guess because they___."
"Walter?" interrupted Marcus. Do you suppose that anyone outside of this cabin will ever see me?"
Walter thought for a moment and then replied. "No, I guess not...but then why do I?"
"Because what you have been writing for the past day is shit."
Walter looked toward his computer and sighed. "I know."
"Walter. I just want to be seen. I don't want to be all alone running around inside of your number cluttered head. I want to live!"
"But how can I___? How can you___?"
"Simple, Walter. Spend some time with me."
"But this is crazy!"
"It is what it is, Walter, but..." He gestured toward the computer."Writing about me without getting to know me... well... it's just plain rude!"
Walter looked out of the window. It was clear to him he would be stuck in the cabin for at least 3 days. Then he looked back to Marcus who motioned him to sit down at his desk. While Marcus poured himself a fresh cup of tea, Walter deleted the file he had been working on and opened another. "So, Marcus. You are 300 years old... "he started. "Tell me about yourself." Marcus spun around and stirred his tea with a spoon. A broad smile crept across his face. "That, my dear friend, is the right question!"
