With fame come fans. With fans come fanatics. Do you want to be famous?
Soon. Carin Thompson turned the folded piece of paper over, searching for anything else. Nothing. Just one word. Soon. She looked again at the envelope that it had arrived in. Nothing there either except her name and address neatly printed in block letters. Almost as if stenciled. No return, even the postmark was unreadable. Deciding it was trash; she threw it away and forgot about it. At least until the next one came.
I am coming. Like the one before, nothing else. Carin wondered which of her friends was pulling a prank. This would be like one of them. After all, no one else had her address. Even her bills did not come here, all going to a post office box. That was the first thing she had learned after her first novel was published. Fans, as much as you enjoy having them, can be very annoying when they invade your personal life. Looking back at the three words, her gut tightened. Instinct told her that maybe this was not a friend. She took the letter and put it into a manila folder. She would wait and see what happened.
The time is near.As Carin looked at this one, her first thought was that maybe some local Jesus freak was harassing her. After all, the locals would know her address. For all she knew, it could be the postman himself. Her instincts once again told her this wasn't the case, yet she put this one with the previous one in the folder and dismissed it from her mind.
