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- Herausgeber: Eduard Meinema
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Niederländisch
Some writers take their job too seriously. How much of your life would you put into your biography?
Max Oroszi, former TV-celebrity, wants to get back to the top. He decides to write an autobiography. But Max isn’t a writer. Luckily there are other who are willing to help. But their real motives can sometimes only be guessed at.
A ghastly and sinister story, with a twisted end.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023
Eduard Meinema
The Ghastly Ghostwriter
First published by www.transfiction.nl 2023
Copyright © 2023 by Eduard Meinema
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
First edition
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Contents
The Ghastly Ghostwriter
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
About the Author
The Ghastly Ghostwriter
Some writers take their job too seriously. How much of your life would you put into your biography?
Max Oroszi, former TV-celebrity, wants to get back to the top. He decides to write an autobiography. But Max isn’t a writer. Luckily there are other who are willing to help. But their real motives can sometimes only be guessed at.
A ghastly and sinister story, with a twisted end.
1
Max Oroszi playfully rolled the spoon of his coffee between the fingers of his right hand. With his other hand he pulled the zipper of his jacket a little tighter. “It’s colder than I expected here on the terrace,” he said shivering to Babette Vueling, who sat on the other side of the small table.
Except for two empty cups of the coffee they had both enjoyed, there was nothing else on the table.
“Yes, didn’t I already tell you so?” Babette said, pushing aside a strand of blond hair. Although the wind was not very strong, the wind kept blowing her lock very annoyingly in front of her eyes. “We had better sit inside.” She looked over her shoulder at the people dining in the well-stocked restaurant with no coats, just shirts or blouses. “Nice and warm by the fireplace…,” she said musingly.
“Hmmm. Too many prying ears,” Max said.
“Ah, Max, come on! Is this still about that book you’ve been talking about for years? You’ve never written a book. And, even worse, no one knows who you are anymore! Let alone that they want to steal the plot of your story.”
Max, offended, dropped the spoon into his empty cup. “I have no plot Babs, you know that. It will be a book about my life. And I may not be very well known these days, there are plenty of people who still know me from TV.” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder at the people in the restaurant. “And with all those cell phones, you no longer know what is being recorded.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t take it so hard,” Babette said. “You shouldn’t think that if your face ever appears back on TV, you will immediately be a celebrity again. That role has been taken over by social media where, as far as I know, you can hardly be found…” She thought for a moment about how she would tell him, but soon came to the conclusion that there was only one method she could use. Simple and straight to the point. “And as for that book. You know yourself that you’re not a writer, Max. If you really want to tell your life story, why not have someone else write your story? Someone who has made writing his profession?”
