The Waiting

Dark is the night, as I wait patiently for the delivery of my novel
The trees whisper, in my suspense, as the crackling tree limbs sound through the cool of the night
In marvel, the silver full moon, so bright, it illuminates my eyes, as I read the death obituary
A very good friend, drove his car off the cliff, into the ocean, and they still haven't found his body
The cliff is known, as dead man's cliff, mysterious deaths have taken place there, last was an airplane crash, lost in flight
I hear the sound of wheels screeching, and I look out to find the federal express truck, with my delivery
As I come back inside the old log cabin, lit up with oil lamps, my grandfather built it many years past
I open the package, and my book has been approved for publishing, the title "The Waiting"
I must decide  which publisher will best represent me, and my real life horror story, the mystery of madness
So, I will have to study my book, one more time, to find the perfect fit, to the perfect crime
As my hands begin to bleed, I feel a sharp pain go down my neck into my back, I have been stabbed
Not sure what has just happened, my legs begin to weaken, and my heart begins to stop, I drop to the floor
My book flies across the room, hits an oil lamp, tipping it over, it begins to flame, fire is furious, and catches the drapes, now I fall to unconsciousness
Once again, I find myself in a living puzzle, of the unknown, as i fear this is some sort of prank, I must hold on to life, until I am rescued, my world, in a book, the waiting, begins