WRITER’S LIFT | CHALLENGE | FICTION
My Name is Syndrome. Imposter Syndrome.
A tale, a writer’s lift, and a challenge.
Today will be great. I know it, walking in the warming sunlight, a book on Tottenville history tugged under my arm. Some quality reading time in the park before it is time for Samhain and the inward-looking phase of the year. I’m about to lose the person tailing me at the corner of something and nothing when somebody blocks my path.
“My name is Syndrome. Imposter Syndrome. And I have the license to kill your writing!”
Puzzled, I look at the smug guy in the black tuxedo, holding a fancy glass. An olive, staked with a toothpick, swims in a clear liquid.
“Chesus! Did you seriously just make a lame James Bond pun?”
“Lame?!” he gnarls angrily, “I’m not lame! I’m special agent Imposter on a mission for MI-Write.”
Next to me, the witch called Writer’s Block breaks into hysterical laughter. Her behaviour horrifies me because she points her finger at me while laughing.
“Why are you laughing at me, Writer’s Block?!”
“Well, stupid, you made that moron up,” she bellows, “And for the record, you renamed me Wilma Blockowski.”
