Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #11 February 2015 | Page 72

for the cover.
“Cover design by Sean Mercer, a mate who agreed to
do it for no money.”
Sean drank more beer and waited for Tom to respond.
“Sean, I had nothing to do with this. It’s not what I
agreed with the publishers. Look, I’ll call them and
find out what went wrong.”
Sean continued to sip his beer while Tom found his
editor’s number on his mobile phone. It was just below
Louise. Why had she not called back yet? Tom’s call to
his editor got through to her secretary.
“Hi Sophie, is Monica there? … Yeah… Tom Ashley...
Celebrating? Well sort of – I’m in a pub with Sean, the
cover artist, but there seems to be a problem. Just need
to check something with Monica. Won’t take long.”
Sean raised an eyebrow. The barmaid was also hovering nearby, clearly curious as to why the two men
looked so agitated.
After a pause Tom started talking into his phone again.
“Monica, Tom here. Look, do you know what went
wrong with the Sean’s acknowledgement for his cover
design? Yeah, I’ve got a copy in front of me here and
it’s not what I wrote. Yeah, positive… some kind of piss
take. Okay, what about the printed copies? Have you
got one there? Yeah, thanks, I’d appreciate that. I’d really like to get this sorted out. Thanks. Talk to you soon.”
Tom ended the call but kept the phone in his hand. He
looked apologetically at Sean. “She says the proof copy
is exactly how we agreed it but she’s going to check the
printed copies and see if it’s gone wrong in all of them
and, if so, when it got changed.”

an incoming text message. Tom looked at the number.
Not Louise. It was from Josie. He opened it and read
“Bastard! Just read the back page. Bastard!”
Tom put the phone away and took out the copy of the
book he had with him. He flicked to the back. He read
the final paragraph he had agonised over and rewritten
so many times. It looked alright to him. Nothing there
he could see Josie should get upset about. He turned
the facing, blank page over and looked at the author
biography. He read with horror. It was there, in the first
paragraph. Tom Ashley calls himself a writer but he really earns his money by teaching endless creative writing
classes to deluded dreamers largely devoid of anything
approaching talent.
Tom’s phone rang. “What now?” It was Monica. The
printed books all had the same mistake on the copyright page and, yes, she had spotted the change in the
‘about the author’ section as well. The printers claimed
they had printed the book as proofed by both the
publishers and Tom and had the computer records to
prove it. She seemed to be apologising and disclaiming
any fault at the same time. Her final suggestion was
that Tom check through the rest of the book to see if
there were any other faults.
Sat in his car, Tom leafed through page after page.
There were subtle changes on almost every page. He’d
rewritten and edited and proofed his own text so many
times he recognised any slight difference. Some of the
alterations actually seemed to improve the writing
which was unsettling. He was thirty pages in when his
mouth dried up in reaction to what he read. Where he
had written what he believed to be a subtle scene in
which the adult narrator started to resolve the issues
arising from his childhood through his relationship
with his partner the book now described a manipulative man who remained with the woman he lived
with because she brought in a full time salary which
paid the mortgage and allowed him to spend his days
pretending to be a writer.

“So what do they do then? Correct it? Reprint it?” Sean
asked. “Can’t see it happening. Not for a new author
and an unknown cover artist.” Sean drained the dregs
of his glass. “Let me know what you find out.” He stood
up [