Series Of Misfortune

The next day, Victor found himself at The Cozy Quill again, but this time for a meeting with Sarah Lee, his steadfast editor.

The café was a haven for people of all professions and its air filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Victor always felt a sense of belonging here, even on days when the news was less than favorable.

He spotted Sarah at their usual table by the window. She was a petite woman in her early thirties with sharp, intelligent eyes behind her stylish glasses.

Her dark hair was pulled into a neat bun, and she wore a professional yet casual outfit—today it was a tailored blazer over a simple blouse, paired with dark jeans. Her laptop was open in front of her, and she was typing furiously, as always.

"Hey, Sarah," Victor greeted as he slid into the seat across from her.

"Victor, good to see you," she replied with a warm smile, looking up from her screen. "How's everything?"

Victor shrugged, trying to mask his anxiety. "Same old, same old. I'm more interested in hearing about my manuscript. Did you get a chance to read it?"

Sarah nodded, her expression becoming more serious. "I did. And I have to say, your ideas are getting better. You've got a knack for creating compelling worlds and characters."

Victor felt a flicker of hope. "But?"

Sarah sighed, closing her laptop to give him her full attention. "But it's still not quite there. The market is tough, and publishers are looking for something that's not just good but great, something that will stand out immediately."

Victor leaned back, rubbing his temples. "What am I missing, Sarah? I've been pouring my heart and soul into these stories."

"You're missing a hook, something that grabs the reader from the first page and doesn't let go. Your writing is solid, but you need that extra spark," Sarah explained with a gentle yet firm tone. "This manuscript has potential, but it needs more work. Maybe try focusing on a more unique angle, something that sets it apart from everything else out there."

Victor nodded slowly, absorbing her words. "Alright. Which publishing house should we try next?"

Sarah reached into her bag and pulled out a list. "I've got a few in mind, but honestly, I think you need to refine this story a bit more before we send it out again. Take your time with it, and don't rush. Quality over quantity."

Victor appreciated her honesty, even if it stung. "Thanks, Sarah. I'll keep working on it."

She smiled with a look of encouragement in her eyes. "I believe in you, Victor. How about we meet again in a week to see where you're at?"

"Sounds good," Victor agreed, feeling a renewed sense of determination. "I'll bring something better."

As they wrapped up their meeting, Victor couldn't help but feel grateful for Sarah's unwavering support. Despite the rejections and setbacks, her belief in his potential was one of the things that kept him going.

---

Victor left The Cozy Quill with a determined stride. Sarah's feedback buzzed in his mind, and he was eager to dive back into his manuscript.

As he walked, an idea suddenly struck him—something brilliant that could transform his story from good to great.

He stopped in his tracks, eyes wide with inspiration. "That's it!" he muttered to himself. Spotting a bench nearby, he quickly sat down, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper and a pen from his bag.

His hand moved furiously as he scribbled down the new plot twist with great excitement noticeable in every stroke of the pen.

Satisfied, Victor folded the paper carefully and tucked it into his pocket. He stood up, a triumphant smile on his face, and continued his journey home. But the universe seemed to have other plans.

As he passed under a tree, he felt a sudden splat on his shoulder. "Oh, come on!" he exclaimed, looking up to see a pigeon perched on a branch above, its beady eyes staring down at him smugly.

"How I so wish I could turn you to barbecue, you little..."

Victor shook his head and used a napkin to wipe off the mess, muttering about his rotten luck.

Continuing down the sidewalk, Victor's mind was still buzzing with his new idea when his foot caught on a raised crack. He stumbled forward, arms flailing, barely managing to catch himself before he face-planted.

"Really? Can this day get any worse?" he grumbled, checking to make sure his papers were still secure.

As he reached the bus stop, Victor dug into his pocket for his bus pass. His fingers met nothing but empty fabric. "No, no, no," he whispered, patting down his pockets frantically. Realizing it must have fallen out during his stumble, he retraced his steps.

His search led him back to the bench where he'd jotted down his idea. He scoured the area, growing more frantic by the second. "It has to be here somewhere," he muttered, bending down to look under the bench. But the bus pass was nowhere to be found.

Dejected, Victor resigned himself to walking home. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the street as he trudged along. His earlier excitement was now overshadowed by frustration.

As he walked, he felt something else slipping from his pocket. He turned around just in time to see the precious piece of paper with his idea flutter to the ground.

However, before he could react, a gust of wind caught it, sending it skittering down the sidewalk.

"No, no, no!" Victor shouted, chasing after the paper. It danced just out of reach, teasing him as it blew further and further away. He sprinted, narrowly dodging pedestrians and obstacles in his path, but the paper seemed to have a mind of its own.

Finally, the wind died down, and the paper settled at the edge of a puddle. Victor dove for it, splashing water everywhere as he grabbed the soggy note. He stood up, panting and soaked, clutching the now illegible mess of ink and paper. "Fantastic," he sighed, shaking his head in disbelief.

By the time Victor reached his apartment, he was drenched, exhausted, and utterly defeated. He unlocked the door and stepped inside, collapsing onto his couch with a groan. He pulled out the ruined piece of paper, staring at it forlornly.

"Well, at least the idea is still in my head," he muttered, trying to find a silver lining. But the events of the day had taken their toll, and his mind felt like a jumbled mess.

Taking a deep breath, he resolved to rewrite the idea the first chance he got. For now, all he could do was rest and hope for a better tomorrow.

Unfortunately, his rest was interrupted by the shrill ring of his phone. He glanced at the screen and saw "Mom" flashing. With a deep sigh, he picked up the call, bracing himself.

"Hi, Mom," he greeted, trying to sound upbeat.

"Victor, do you know what day it is?" Mrs. Revenant's voice was sharp, as usual.

"Tuesday?"

"Yes, and it's also the day I remind you that your degree in literary arts is doing nothing for you. When are you going to get a real job and help with these debts?"

Victor sighed, the familiar wave of guilt washing over him. "I'm trying, Mom. I'm working on it."

"Trying isn't good enough, Victor. You've wasted my money on studying literary arts instead of becoming a lawyer and now you're useless. Your little sister, Rachel, is going to be sent out of high school if we can't pay the fees. And when that happens it will be on your conscience."

The mention of Rachel made Victor's heart clench. His little sister had always looked up to him, and the thought of her struggling because of their financial situation was unbearable.

Mrs. Revenant continued, her tone unrelenting. "The bills are piling up, and I can't handle it alone."

"*Sigh* I'll see what I can do," Victor said quietly, feeling a lump in his throat. "I'll figure something out."

"Good. You should have thought of this family before you made your selfish decision," she snapped before hanging up.

Victor sat there for a moment, the silence of his apartment pressing down on him. He pulled out his phone and opened his banking app, dreading what he would see. His savings account showed a measly $400. He knew it wasn't enough, but he had to help.

With a heavy heart, Victor transferred $380 to his mother's account, leaving himself with just $20 to last until his next paycheck. He stared at the screen with a dejected look. It wasn't much, but it would at least buy some time for Rachel.

He leaned back, closing his eyes. All he could feel right now was tension and guilt. He had always loved being creative which was why he followed his passion and disregarded his mother's wants.

Should he have agreed to study law instead? Maybe their financial situation would be better by now.

---

The clock struck midnight, casting a faint glow from the streetlights outside into Victor's small apartment.

He sat at his cluttered desk, head in his hands, trying to recall the brilliant idea he had lost earlier. The frustration gnawed at him, the tantalizing glimpse of a perfect plot twist just out of reach.

He scribbled a few disconnected thoughts on a new sheet of paper, but nothing seemed right. With a sigh, Victor leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.

"Mom already thinks I'm a failure... and now all I'm doing is proving her right *sigh*..."

The room was silent except for the faint vibrations of the refrigerator and the occasional sound of traffic outside.

"Come on, think," he whispered to himself, tapping his pen against the desk. But the harder he tried to remember, the more elusive the idea became.

After what felt like an eternity, Victor let out a resigned sigh and crumpled the paper, tossing it into the overflowing wastebasket.

"Maybe it's a sign," he muttered, rubbing his temples. "Time for something new."

He took a deep breath and pulled out a fresh notebook. He let his mind wander, seeking inspiration.

Slowly, a new idea began to take shape—something different, something that felt right. His heart started to race with excitement as he began to write, the words flowing effortlessly.