What a great story, it sent shivers down my spine and even minutes after reading it I still felt haunted by it.It asks profound questions about civilisation and the way mankind is heading. Like all the best books it seems to leave you with more questions than answers. Why does the book have no title? Who is the last person on earth? Does the fact that earth is mentioned mean that everyone is living on mars? Why is he in his room? Who or what is knocking on his door? Why does he "suddenly" hear the knock, had he not been listening properly? Is everyone else zombies? If he is the last person on the face of the earth, who is living on the ears, legs, arms et al of the earth? So many profound questions that I'm sure critics will be arguing about for years. And the following post, is that the title of your next book "Has anyone even read this yet?", so deeply profound. Or is that the title and the story of your next book. Either way its brilliant, the next Stephen King for sure. Great work! :-)

The Plagiarist

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times” wrote the plagiarist on his computer. “What an original way to start a story” he muttered to himself, smiling manically at his great start to his new book. He was planning on calling it “The book within a book” but he was unhappy with the title at this time. He had been keeping the basic premise of the book a secret, even from himself, but now he let it all out in all its surreal glory, a muddle of a story which he intended to be a sequel to his previous book, but it is actually a prequel to it. He intended to accidentally mention lots of horror films (especially those from Stephen King books and Cronenberg, films). He wanted to create a mess of a book, a book with such confusing narrative, flights of fancy, things that make no sense and changes in tense that it was a figurative and literal nightmare to read it. He wanted to leave conventional logic behind as he believes it belongs in the dark ages. He wanted the critics to throw the book down in despair on reading its passages of hack writing. This book would bring true terror and accidental humour to all who read it. He couldn’t remember his real name although it had always been written at the top of things he had written on the internet. Here is a description of him:

• He had written the word EXIT above all the doors in his house in case he has difficulty finding his way out.
• He hates people who use the word pretentious, that word was not a part of his vocabulary.
• He thinks of himself as a master thief, he once stole Thursdays for a whole month, and has also stolen good manners from several members of a well known chess site.
• He wants “He was born, he suffered, he died.” written on his gravestone.
• He once wanted to change his name to “Clock Pusher Range Rover Shape Shifter Service Provider Car Driver Mover and Shaker Doppel Ganger Area Manager Holy Roller Customer Advisor Opinion Former Hostage Taker Policy Maker Trouble Shooter Mother F**ker” but was told his name couldn’t include any *s as they would difficult to say out loud.
• Eh swa cnonivecd poelpe cuold still udnrsantd mih eevn when eh mdduled pu ltteres ni sih bkoos.
• He intends to move to the Mendips to become a recluse.
• He thought that chess had not been invented, he felt it had always been there like gravity, oxygen, fire, the wind and flying carpets.
• He hated talking about himself unless it was online in bullet point form.
• He debates that the colour blue doesn’t exist. Everyone knows that the sea is really clear, it is just reflected blue from the sky. Everyone knows that space is endless and black, so it must be a reflection of the sea. So the sea is a reflection of a reflection, this is impossible and therefore so is blue.
• He claims to have invented the French defence in chess after studying war plans of Napoleon and putting them into practise on the board.
• He once tried to commit suicide by holding his breathe.
• He thought all cats were catatonic and all dogs were dogmatic.
• He forced himself to enjoy his own company since nobody else did.
• He once played a game of chess against himself and lost horribly, he agreed never to play himself again unless he let him win or at least gave him a rooks advantage.
• After a vote he agreed that democracy doesn’t work because the masses are idiots.
• He was convinced that people thought he was crazy because of his forum posts, this upset him as he thought he was crazy for many other reasons and felt his posts were the sanest things he did.
• He has a burning ambition to achieve absolutely nothing in his life.
• He likes to clear up false facts about himself-he can not fly, he is not terrified of cat flaps, he does not intend to write a chess book called “How to become a GM in just 92 years”, he does not believe in Santa, the Easter bunny or Michael Jackson but he does believe in Inspector Morse and the internet being run by 2 old ladies in Southampton who have frequent naps causing the net to slow down.
• He thinks dying is like going to sleep and never waking up again to realise you’ve been asleep. He also thinks being alive is like waking up but never going back to sleep to realise you’ve been awake.

He had written the world book of the year 2007 and it hung, pinned up on his wall beside him:

Beside the story was a piece of newspaper clipping with the headline “Can the Plagiariser beat his bestseller in 2008?” With his first line written, he felt he could break his record. As he reached down to the keyboard and pressed the key for the first letter of his next line he passed out. He awakened in darkness, beside him stood a girl named Carrie. Using her telekinetic powers, she blasted a rock out into the dark. “What is it?” he cried. “A rabid dog, called Cujo” she replied. They ran into the nearest building called the dead zone, a veterinary hospital. There were no lights and they searched for a room that wasn’t locked. On finding one they entered to find a dead body in the middle of the room. He approached and found a serum of green liquid beside the body and promptly stabbed it into the forehead of the body, shouting “IT’S ALIVE, ITS ALIVE!!!” in an manic scream before falling to the floor giggling. The body started to move. “That thing, its alive, and its changing into something…” said Carrie. From having a face, a mask that looked like William Shatner, it changed into a werewolf. “A werewolf…a werewolf in London…” muttered the plagiariser. “An American werewolf…“ chirped in Carrie. “On Halloween…” The wolf leapt out of an open window, disappearing into the night. “WHO GOES THERE, IS THAT YOU CLARENCE?” boomed a voice from the hallway. A small man stood in the doorway, his silhouette looking like some kind of alien. “Who are you?” said the plagiariser. “I’m Dr H L, this is my veterinary hospital, what are you doing in the sheep room? “The sheep room?” I said. “Yes, this is the room where I put lambs to sleep, to silence them as it were.” he replied. “Do you want to see this videotape I have, its really good, you can watch it in the videodrome?” he asked. “Its all blu-ray nowadays, gotta go” said Carrie dragging the plagiariser with her. They escaped to find the town full of police, they quickly went into the woods. On entering the woods the plagiariser passed out. He regained consciousness in a strange room with a computer. He tried to read what it said but he was quickly whisked away. It had just been a dream? He was on a cliff face with Carrie at his side and it started to snow. It was a strange surreal snow which froze to the side of his face. The earth shuddered and the snow blanketed the pair of them. They froze…on the brink… The plagiarist gasped his last words “You know, I don’t think any of this is real, I think we were just puppets in a play, figures in a snow globe, characters in a story…”

And indeed this was so. The plagiariser from another world slammed down his snow globe on the floor. “why oh why can’t I think of an original story?!” he cried. The globe smashed into the floor, splintering and smashing all over the floor. As the pieces of glass and figures poured out onto the floor there was an earthquake. He was flung to the floor and passed out, his world crashed down around him. It was just another part of the puzzle, he was just a puppet in a play of another world, which in turn was destroyed. Over and over the worlds imploded. Over and over we die one after the other. He awoke as if from an eternal rest, blinded by light. Terrified. He was in a room with a computer. The computer from his dream. But it hadn’t been a dream, it was real, everything else wasn’t real. He looked blankly at his computer screen. He had an e-mail, it was titled “the plagiariser“. He caught a glimpse of something in the corner of his eye. All over the floor of the desk beside him was glass and a strange green liquid. In the centre, parallel as if holding hands were 2 figures in perfect symmetry. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost” came a voice from above. It was Carrie. “How about we go out and get some dinner tonight, go see a film.” I said. “Don’t you want to finish that story you were writing? she said. “I can’t come up with a good ending though” he said. They went out into the night and everything went black. He awoke in his room, everyone was gone....................The last person alive on the face of the earth was in his room. Suddenly he hears a knock at the door!