Story: The Writer

My story has been through many iterations, but here's the final draft:

Once upon a time there was a man made from wood, who had pencils for fingers.

He was born to write, but he was suffering from writers’ block. All day he struggled to put words down on paper but to no avail. The only thing that kept him going was the sight of the beautiful woman who lived in the apartment across the street. Although he’d never spoken to her, the writer had fallen deeply in love.

We join the writer as he sits in his garret room, flexing his pencil-fingers and preparing to write on the blank sheets in front of him. Unfortunately the words don’t come.

The writer scratches his head, furrows his brow, and drums his fingers on the table, but no inspiration strikes.

Over the course of the day the waste paper basket begins to fill with balled sheets of paper as the writer discards his failed attempts.

Then, as night falls, a figure appears in the window opposite his apartment. It is Margarita, the beautiful woman who lives next door and just happens to be made entirely from paper.

The writer sighs and rests his chin on his hand: he watches as she takes out a book and begins to read.

And, at last, inspiration strikes. The writer begins to write fluently, the words flowing from his fingers over sheets and sheets of paper until eventually he falls asleep, his head resting on the pages that he has written.

We fade through to the same scene a number of hours later as the morning light from the sun creeps across the table to fall on the writers face.

He wakes up and as he catches sight of the paper strewn around him he remembers with delight what happened the previous evening.

The Writer goes to the window to breathe in the morning air and as he does so he sees something that gives him an idea. The two apartments have a washing line strung between them and in a moment of inspiration he pegs the pages, detailing his love for Margarita, to the washing line and sends them across the gap.

Back in his room the Writer feels very pleased with his ingenuity but then he catches sight of the waste paper bin, full to brimming with his discarded attempts from the previous day, and suddenly his confidence plummets and he immediately regrets what he’s done.

He hurries to the window to retrieve the pages but it’s too late – he’s just in time to see Margarita lifting the final sheet from the washing line.

With events now beyond his control the Writer paces his apartment anxiously, torn between hope and despair. Then something outside the window catches his eye: once again there is something hanging on the washing line.

He pulls the line towards him and his face lights up as he realises what it is. Margarita has folded one of his pages into the shape of a heart and sent it back to him. She has, quite literally given him her heart. Then down below a door opens and there is Margarita herself smiling up at him.

The Writer exuberantly flings the paper heart into the air and the camera follows as it flutters into the air, tracing delicate arcs as it glides down between the buildings. And when we reach street level we realize that the Writer has got there before us and now, at last, holds Margarita in his arms.