Great Novelist

The crow was just standing on his desk. Standing at your feet with the sound of crying.

“It could be. ”

“Not like this. ”

“There's still time. ”

“It has nothing to do with time. ”

“I'm fine.”

“Kaaah, kaaah. ”

It doesn't make any sense. He had no choice but to laugh as he heard the sound of crying in his last moments.

“Don't smile. ”

“Haha.”

The crow nervously scratched his claws on the book underneath his feet. The grey covers had a top down. The thin, long marks remained hostile.

“Oh, you're destroying other people's things without money. ”

The crow tore the book hard without pretending to hear it. The sound of the book's tears echoes in the room. It was a little creepy. He didn't stop him.

The crow continues to get angry until there is nothing left to tear. I put the paper down and plucked myself. You're down another feather.

“What do you want to do? ”

He asks, the crow does not answer. Instead, he said:

“You want me to know. ”

“What?”

“Just like you wrote. As you wrote it down. You want me to accept what you think. ”

“Did I do that? ”

“Readers interpret it however they want. They don't understand my heart. ”

“It's natural. ”

“I hate pretending to know. ”

“I'm glad. ”

“Lies.”

“You don't believe me. ”

He said with a small smile.

“Writing exists to be read. The building blocks of books are not just letters and paper. Without them, my story will never be complete. I appreciate you reading and thinking about it. My writing becomes a turning point for someone. It's the writer's happiness. It's the happiness you get as a writer. Can you hate happiness? ”

The crow looked at him with black eyes.

“Lies.”

He didn't believe until the end. He understood him. He was the same. We don't trust each other.

The raven's voice cracks slightly.

“I don't like it. People who talk nonsense. People who doubt me. Those who blame me. People pretending to know me. People who judge me. People who say I'm wrong. I hate it.I hate those guys who say they're looking forward to the next one. Nobody gives a shit about me. I don't care how hard it is for me to write, and I don't care what kind of pain I'm going to be in. I only see the results. I only see part of it. ”

Ugh, I didn't want to hear it.

“I write because I enjoy it. ”

“I can't be completely free from their judgments unless I show them to others. ”

“The book is free. ”

“A weak man cannot endure freedom. ”

“I'm not weak. ”

“Humans are all weak. ”

“Are all crows strong? ”

“I'm strong. ”

The opposition is lengthened. You can catch cold sweat from out of sight.

I feel dizzy.

I couldn't tell who was saying what. Light pours down from the monitor. Even in that light, the crow kept my color. Black and black.

If you touch that.

What will happen to my hands?

The crow opened the black beak.

“Everyone should read my writing and praise me. ”

He smiled and replied with a silly hope.

“If I had one reader, I'd write. ”

The static flowed.

He slowly got up from his seat. You open the window. The wind doesn't blow. Nothing comes in, nothing comes out. The air and breath held their place. It was only the Lord and the Crow that moved.

“We'll probably keep having conversations like this. ”

The moment the crow's eyes met, it became inevitable. Once I realized its existence, I couldn't run anymore.

He's got his head. The tale of the nameless crow demanded a lot of strength.

They struggle to not acknowledge each other. He was confused. Is it winner to admit first or winner to hold on till the end? I wonder what will happen to him when he loses.

“We're so different. ”

Crow. The crow cries.

There are so many different beings talking in the same room.

“It's so different. ”

He said again. And laughed at the crow. He hated that laugh.

I spread my wings without beating my castle.

A piece of shredded paper flew into the air because it was not beaten by its powerful wingspan.

The wind blows.

It was strong enough to wiggle. A new wind comes through the open window. He closes his eyes. And I have a feeling there won't be anything left where that wind passed. There will be no crows, no shrapnel, no missing books.

“Master, eat your fruit. ”

He opens his eyes. He sits in a chair. I saw my mother holding a visit. He was just staring at his mother dazed.

“Why are you making it so dark? Don't look too closely at the monitors. Look away, stretch. What are you doing? Can I get you anything? ”

“No, I'm going out. ”

Hearing Lord's answer, my mother stayed away from the room while keeping the visit open. He looked around the room. There are no crows. There are traces of birds embedded safely in the bookshelf.

However.

He opened his fist. I don't know when I've been empowering them. The fingernail marks remained on the palm of my hand.

There was debris in it.

A piece of paper. A fragment of a book torn by a raven.

He turned his eyes to his desk. The end of the cover was torn off.

The wind blows. The debris falls to the ground. He didn't catch it.

“Yawn.”

He raised his hand to cover his mouth, regardless of his will. I looked at him and asked the spring sitting across from him.

“Tired?”

“A little.”

I was interrupted by Seogwang who was next to me. He hears a cry in his hand. I don't know how many times I read it.

“Well, I was wondering if you've been feeling better lately. Did you stay up all night again?”

“I slept late. ”

I slept late. That day I had to write for a long time. I wanted to clear my head. Black ink fills the white paper. It was the same color as the crow.

“What did you do at night? ”

In his question, Ahjussi said.

“I played with the crows. ”

“Crow?”

Seeing him with a look of ignorance, Seonhua shakes his head.

“Stop saying things you don't understand. ”

“That's too much.”

He didn't even pretend to hear it. She has a topic that concerns her even more.

“What shall we do today? ”

“I'll write. ”

I gave a lot of answers about the weakness of the West.

“Who doesn't know that? I mean, it's two semesters now, and you're not doing anything special. ”

“Something special? Aren't we in a special class enough? ”

The training that had been done in his head had passed. It was definitely not ordinary.

He did not deny it.

“By the way, isn't that more unusual than being special? Then will you continue teaching the same way? ”

It was a somewhat disappointing tone. Then Baron opens his mouth.

“I don't know about that. ”

The line flashes.

“Why? What do you know? ”

“It's not accurate, but I thought Moon might be up to something. ”

“Ready?”

“You were smiling strangely in the office. The only thing Mr. Moon laughs at at is his school. ”

That's right, the reason he was able to continue teaching at school was because there was a handwriting book.

“What is it?”

“I don't know.”

“I hope it's not weird. I thought we were supposed to run around town this time. ”

“It's too cruel in this weather. ”

Glug, the door is open. He was Moon's teacher.

“Let's write a novel. ”

and said,

“This is the beginning of the second semester. After half a year of refining the basics, you can start writing. It's gonna be fun. ”

He raises his hand and asks, "What is it that you don't fully understand?"

“A novel? Haven't you written one already? ”

Inside her bag was a collection of articles that had been written so far.

Teacher Moon said with a look on his face what nonsense he was making.

“Not that short. The rest of the half a year of writing. ”

The static passes through the rest of the year. I'm asking you to write real novels, not short writings. Dr. Moon.

The first thing that was cheerful was also propaganda.

“Wow!"

“Really?"

“A novel.”

Following that, Seogwang and Spring opened their mouths. Baron looked surprised, too. He was also surprised. I write a novel, a novel that I will spend half the year writing.

“It's interesting just thinking about it. ”

Sounds like fun. You don't have to hang up in the middle, you don't have to go through all the trouble to get rid of strange presenters. I understood that Mr. Moon was excited and came in.

He looked around at the excited children with a satisfied face and said to Barron,

“Baron, art department, will design the cover. ”

“Cover?”

“Yes, I'm drawing a face that will wrap up the work of the adorable successors. ”

“I've never drawn a cover before. ”

“They've never written a novel, either. ”

The children who were excited by what Moon said shouted.

“Yes, sir. We're all new here. ”

“Make my cover as cool as possible. ”

I get the cover without writing it down. The order was a mess. Moon calmed the children down and spoke.

“Now, before I write a novel, let me show you how to write. ”

“I'm confident to use it at my waist. ”

I sat in the right posture and replied.

“I'm not wrong. ”

It's not the answer I want. Dr. Moon said.

Writing fiction. Of course, it will be good for your health if you keep your waist up like Seogwang said, but what Moon wants to say is a mental aspect. He listened to Teacher Moon.

“What do you think of your writing? ”

“Not enough. I'm ashamed to see you retreat. ”

Spring said, the sentence she wrote was clumsy and loose.

“Right. So you guys who write such clumsy sentences, don't you write well until you get more? ”

The children did not answer. I wanted to confidently say, I can write well, but I was confused when the reality of writing came to me.

The children looked each other in the eye. How can we write such a good sentence if we can only write such an absurd sentence?

It was the Lord who opened his mouth at that time.

“I can write. ”

Black Beak (2) End

lim Han-baek