My Life is Over.
I have written the Seranish Chronicles three times since the age of 7. Each time, something disastarous has occurred when I reached the ending point of the books. The first time, my computer died and corrupted the files that were my book. The second time, my computer was stolen. This, is the third time.
I had finished Book 1, Blood Feud and was well on my way to getting it ready for its big act on the widescreen of paper and Times New Roman font. It had come out to be 383 pages on the dot, and was, in my mind and the minds of the two people I’d let read the completed version, a masterpiece. I had it stored in two places, on my computer and on my iPod. When I updated my OS on my computator, my disk was erased (for whatever reason an Error -100023 or whatever it was). OK, I thought, I still have it on my iPod.
My iPod, upon finishing playing “Aerith’s Theme” from Final Fantasy, froze, then went totally white screen with a logo.
This logo was an image of an iPod with a smiley face for the screen. The smiley face had X’s for eyes.
Hours of trying to force it to reveal itself on my finder, to come to some form of artificial life, proved fruitless. My iPod is very much dead, making strange ticking noises and bizarre hisses with the occasional puff of acrid smelling smoke.
This makes it the third time I’ve tried writing this book, the third time that it has been thwarted by some unknown adversary using Technology as its weapon.
My one saving grace is I printed the first forty pages of this story months ago. Only…the first forty.
Perhaps it is just that this story was never meant to be told and that Seranish was to remain my dream, my paradise, my little slice of some grander thing that might’ve been.
I always told myself, since I was that little girl with her little Alpha Smart computer, that as soon as the books were finsihed and published, I would be happy, I could be content for the rest of my life, I could die happy at that moment and never look back at my life with regret.
I’ve lived with regrets every day of my life but the story has kept me going.
To lose it…again…is like having a stroke just before making the moon landing.
Or something close to that.
I cried, I tore at my hair and my face, I even prayed. My iPod cannot be resucitated except perhaps by a miracle performed at the Apple Store Genius Bar tomorrow evening. Otherwise, I may be holding a vigil followed swiftly by a wake for my 8,320 song carrying 80GB iPod and it’s forever lost contents of the Seranish Chronicles
Little Miss Aki