(This isn't really fan fiction to be honest, and there will be no updates, this little bit is the whole thing.)
Harry Hollands was sitting at his desk brooding, his muses alluded him and now he was trapped in the ever horrible lock of writer’s block. He could not think of a single word to type, no matter how hard he hammered away on his keyboard a story the gibberish he typed would not form a story. “Why must I always do this?” He thought to himself as he deleted his useless gibberish. He cursed the world for taking all the good stories, and then he cursed himself for being so stupid. Harry quietly remembered an old teacher of his. A kind hearted old woman who taught him in his younger days, he couldn’t remember her name but he could remember what she always said about writing. “Write what you know, it’s easier that way.” She had said all those years ago. Harry laughed to himself. Write what he knew? Then he’d be trapped writing stories about poor idiots who didn’t know what to write. Suddenly it struck him, the idea of a lifetime. If he couldn’t write about what he knew, then he’d write about what he didn’t know. Harry immediately set to work and began to write the strangest story.
“Zaldarous Zint was an Altarunian a species of alien that was so far roomed from humanity that I would hazard to say that seeing one would drive a person quite mad. Luckily I’ve never seen one myself. Zint was sitting at his people’s closest equivalent to a desk, a strange devise that required several poles and pipes. He called out to his pet, a creature with that seemed far more like a nightmare than an animal, it’s body a swirling mass of silver flesh, it’s name was Ralph. He patted Ralph on his head eye, something the creature very much enjoyed, and set to work. He pulled out a large steel sheet and chiseled away. He chiseled out the strangest story he’d ever written, it went like this…”
“The man who called himself Doomed_Cannon sat at his desk in the middle of the night typing away. He’d been working on his latest story bit by bit as the night had continued and was just about done. It was a strange meta kind of story. Doomed quietly wondered if meta counted as a real word, then he shrugged his shouldered and continued to type. Once he was finished he read over his story and concluded that it was one of the most ridiculous story he’d ever written, then he copied the whole thing and dumped it into a forum without a second thought.”
Harry silently starred at his screen. He quickly deleted what he’d typed and decided to never think of it again. He had no time for such silly stories.