She’s running out of time.
"Hi, this is Fiona."
"I don't know any Fionas."
"Yes, you do, you know me intimately."
"What? I do not know you or anyone else named Fiona! How did you get this unlisted number?"
"You do know me, you know all there is to know about me, but it's not enough. I need you to give me more."
"What are you talking about? Give you more? I've never given you anything, how can I give you more? Leave me alone, I'm in the middle of a killer writers block and I can't deal with crazies right now. Good bye!"
"Don't hang up, we must talk, you have to help me I'm dying. Time is running out and I'll be dead in six months."
"Dying? Dying how? And, what do I have to do with it, I DO NOT KNOW YOU, goodbye!"
"Hello? If it's you again I'm calling the cops. I don't need harassment. Good b..."
"What? WHAT? Tanit was a Phoenician goddess, a story I wrote ten years ago when I was just learning. How do you know that name?"
"I was there."
"What the hell are you talk—"
"Your girlfriend at the end."
. . . "Oh… my… god… Fiona—"
"I know, it's hard to grasp, but I'm fading. I need you to write another story to keep me alive, soon too."
"This is insane! I've lost my mind and I'm hallucin—"
"No! I've existed since you published me. Each story gives the MC ten a year life, the story must continue so I can continue. I am in love with you so write a good story for us. This time I'd appreciate less sex and a lot more intimacy."
"Wait a minute…"