People Don’t Get Killed in Kid’s Books.

Derek’s fingers flew over the keys, punching them rapidly and with purpose. The words poured from his mind ceaselessly, each keystroke a defining choice. He spun through sentence after sentence, driving his protagonist, a young swordsman trapped deep behind enemy lines, ever onward into what was surely to be his doom. The rain smashed into the thin pane of his windows as he typed. It had been pouring for hours and the lightning had just begun to flash, momentarily lighting up the otherwise dim living room of his small house.