Chris flicked the corner of the paper a few times. Then he shoved it back in his pocket and continued on his way home. He ran up the stairs to his apartment as fast as he could, eager to see if this paper really could make his dreams come true.
When he sat down at his kitchen table, he realized that he had no pen nearby. He went to check in his room, but he couldn't find one. He thought it to be very strange, since he always kept one on his nightstand for whenever he woke up in the middle of the night with a song idea. But now there was nothing.
He dejectedly sat down at the table once more and threw the paper down. It seemed like nothing would ever go right for him- first Jonny, now this...
No pen will help you...
Chris didn't see the new writing at first, since he had taken to laying his head down on the table. Then he thought he felt the sharp edge of the paper stab him in the arm. He looked up and saw that somehow the paper had moved closer to him.
You can not write in ink...
"Well, then, what the hell am I supposed to write in??" he asked aloud. He didn't seem to think it odd to speak to a piece of paper.
Blood.
Eh, why not? You've got plenty of blood, what is there to lose?
B-blood? I'm not so sure about that...
