Peace

Cake

I

Rays from shining ink sprayed from trees
Stray dogs drink from ashtrays from trees
Pray to a whining sink relayed from me
May we please think of the delays from me

And I'll give you cake.


II

So you have my cake, you liar, you thief
Your body I'll bake; my desire, relief.

Freeze the Night II

Part I

Drops of blood, tears, and some restless lies
A new universe when conscience dies

Such a lightheaded man could never behave so well
This is my world, destroy all sources and send me to hell
A lighted fire, destroying sanity and making me stupid
A world so amazing it makes me want to puke
Where's all my stupid sanity?
A world never to be seen again

Universal realization
This is a paradigm shift
Immunity to pain
Hope lights the world
Just a slight difference between a pain I felt
And the pain I feel

Shot after shot
When will I find myself?
Shot after shot
Until I freeze the night

But I'm only pretending.

Three cheers for three cheers

Diminish!

A causeless fault waltzed through a tunnel

Turn back!

The tunnel ends with white light

Unpredictable, unfortunate

Unwilling to be lost, to be forgotten

To be left behind

A labyrinth is made from this tunnel
A windowless room
A respiratory disease
Run far, far away!
Lest you loathe your future
Lest you loathe yourself
Lest you found yourself
A great man is wild
Thorns sticking out of beds
There will be a time
Three cheers for sublimity
Three cheers for stupidity
Three cheers for three cheers

Where's me?

Saddening life.
A short sentence.
Time to go.
No sorrow.
Hypocrites and demons.
Waiting for a sign.
Day after day.
Dismay.

This is for the world.
Everything is gone.
None will stay alive.
Tragic end to lives.
Singing a wrong tune.
Blisters and lies.
A question to me.
Where's me?

The Writer's Block: Author's Note

(WARNING: Contains spoilers to my latest story, The Writer's Block)

My third full-length story since 2011. It is also the easiest to write. It took me just four days.

It's been less than a month since I've written The Fall, but ideas came quick this time around. There's a series I've watched a long time ago, yet interested me enough to sit through the entire thing again. It's called Salad Fingers, It's not for the fainthearted. It's not for the weak. Okay, maybe I'm a bit fainthearted and weak. Whatever. The series speak of a green creature with salad-like fingers. Its name is Salad Fingers. The last statement cannot be any more obvious.

Oh, Salad Fingers have many friends. Salad Fingers is sexually aroused by rusty things. Salad Finger hallucinates. Salad Fingers is emotional. Salad Fingers is weird. Salad Fingers is traumatized.

It may seem... abnormal to some, but to me, it's a roller coaster of emotions. I can't seem to completely love Salad Fingers, yet the green creature is somehow very charismatic. Salad Fingers' actions are creepy to the point of being nightmarish, yet Salad Fingers is probably one of the very few characters who saddens me. There's something sadly off about this charming, eccentric character.

There's also a video game, The Stanley Parable, which inspired the second-person unreliable narrator concept of my story. As a writer, I try my best to push the boundaries of what can be achieved through words. What makes a piece of writing unique?

There's tunes and instruments in a song, visualization and materials usage in an artwork, auditory effects and movement in a movie, control and inputs in a video game.

Those are in addition to words. In most cases, there are lyrics in a song, messages in an artwork, scripts in a movie, stories in a video game.

But writings... There are only words in a writing.

What if I write a story that cannot be transcribed into any other art form without changing its original meaning?

The Stanley Parable is one such video game. It's worth a play. It redefines the term "video game". It understands that it's a game. It embraces it. You're the player? It treats you with the respect you deserve... Actually, no. It mocks you for being a player.

So... why not mock readers? Well, that'll turn them away. Readers hate to be mocked for their rights to read a story. So I mock everything. My latest story is a satire. It's written in the natural, sarcastic, sometimes cynical style that I've adapted since Tyrant Eliza. That explains how I finished The Writer's Block in four days.

One of my goals is to forge a relationship with readers. Yet, even this is risky. By acknowledging the readers, they will have higher expectations. They will be easily disappointed. I fear that.

So... why not put all that into the story?

Why not project my worst fears into the story's various characters?

One of my past stories, Tyrant Eliza, tried to encapsulate this paranoia. It also embraced a second-person writing style, albeit not nearly as blatant as The Writer's Block.

Both stories were written liberally, whereas The Fall was written restrictively. This very fact is actually one of the main themes in The Writer's Block. How much will you restrict yourself to satisfy society? How much will you shape your life to fit into society?

How much will you change for others?

Society asks you to change and therefore you change. But where's you?

Society asks you to change again and therefore you change again.

And again.

This "society" never existed in the first place, because no matter how much you change, you can never satisfy everyone. So what's the point of changing?

Because once you've changed for society, you no longer exist.

If you have to change, change for yourself. At least you're still you.

Don't let society transform you into a product of their fantasies.

It's a constant fear of mine. I'm scared. I'm worried that I will no longer be me. I'm always afraid of writing myself into a corner and being stuck there for life, both literally and figuratively. I'm afraid of being trapped.

The Writer's Block comes to me naturally. Brainstorming sessions are quick and productive. Twists and turns all appear magically. It's the story closest to my heart. An endless cycle of living in a cold, hard fantasy; every attempt to venture into reality rebounds you deeper back into the very dreams that you're trying to escape from.

To you, everyone is real and a product of your fantasy.

What I fear the most is that I'm forced to repeat the same dreadful life of not being me over and over again.

Now that I think of it, this is less of a cycle and more of a spiral.

I'll be digging deeper and deeper away from me. In the end, it will all be too late. There will be no escape. By then, you will only have one question.

Where's me?

The Writer's Block

I'm a writer. I'm writing a story. Silvia Grace is my favorite character. She died. I am not involved in her death, although I am her writer.

The story's main character, William Johnson, must have killed her without me knowing. I have to find out more.

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7

The Writer's Block, Chapter 1

1: Silvia

How can this be?

I’m facing a situation so dire that it’s driving me insane. My favourite character, Silvia Grace, died.

I… don’t know why. I am her creator, as I wrote her. She may not be the main character, but she is one that I cannot afford to kill. No! I can’t even bring myself to hurt her!

Yet, she died? My authority as a writer is threatened. There can only be one culprit; William Johnson.

Sir William Johnson is the main character of my story. He’s a legendary warrior who mastered all the ways of the blade. He started off as a noble, humble man; he fought bad guys. And he won all the time. He never killed anyone, as he believed that even the cruellest of man deserves a chance for redemption. The people loved him.

However, it was not long before his immense power corrupted him. To him, everyone who did not follow him is a bad guy. All bad guys must be killed.

He ruled the world.

But no! That is a horrible ending! Where’s the romance? Where’s the love?

There’s Silvia Grace. She fell for him long before he plunged into darkness, and he fell for her. After turning to the dark side, she did not like his ways, and so he changed.

And Silvia’s dead.

I cannot let William Johnson continue his reign of terror! I have to kill him! How dare he intervene my sovereignty over my world?

Yet, the readers love William Johnson. And I’m still poor. I kill off William Johnson and I’ll get poorer.

So this scene takes place in the Green Market, a market that is… green. It’s huge. Its vendors sell vegetables. Almost everyone wears bright green clothes. Most of the shop vendors dyed their hairs dark green. Don’t judge me because I came up with a shitty place like this.

William Johnson loves his greens. Also, he has dark green hair. Also, he likes the colour green. He visits the Green Market every Sunday morning, which is now. I have to question him.

William Johnson’s eyes widen; his mouth forms an ‘O’ shape. He looks around. He scratches the inside of his left ear with his left little finger. William Johnson is confused.

Indeed, it is pretty awkward for a writer to speak to his own character.

“O mysterious man, I am deeply unsettled by your mysteriousness; but Silvia Grace the woman I love, her murder, I have not done.”

I’m glad that I’ve given William Johnson a fearless personality. Although I’m not exactly the gladdest person after listening to what he said. I have to find out more. I question him again.

“O mysterious man, once again I inform you of my innocence. Saddened by this, I very much am. Ask my five great friends! They will deny all that you accuse me of; they will do it proudly!”

Now, Sir William Johnson has five friends. Hyperia, the ruler of seas; R.E.T.I.N.A., a robotic maid; The Trader, a talented mercenary who killed thousands for money; Equinox el’Eriathas, the city sweeper; and Shuma-Ti, Master of Fantasy.

Frankly, I hate William Johnson and all his five friends.

I press on.

William Johnson remains silent. He pretends to ignore the voice he heard. He walks away, each step hastier than the last.

He will not escape.

William Johnson runs away from the market into an open wasteland. Suddenly, a stone wall appears in front of him. Another appears to the left of him, and another to the right. These walls are so tall that they pierce the clouds. He is cornered.

“O mysterious man, spare me, for I have done no wrong! None in this world loves Silvia Grace more than I. None knows her more than I! None can find her but I!”

No, William Johnson, you just tell me where she is, and I’ll find her. I have to make William Johnson afraid. I have to destroy him.

So I destroyed him.

William Johnson falls. He dies from a heart attack.

That’s probably the easiest way to kill a character. Great, now he’s dead, I’ll get poorer. No, I have to stick with the original ending. Readers love happy endings. You love happy endings too, don’t you? Let me spoil it for you.

William Johnson and Silvia Grace live happily ever after.

Shit. Now you’ll probably stop reading. You don’t care about Silvia Grace, do you? It’s not like you even know her. But you know me… don’t you?

I’m your friend.

William’s body lies dormant under the scorching heat. His long metallic sword smothers the small patch of grass to the right of him.

Three days later, five people stumble upon his decomposing body. They dig a hole into the ground, and bury him along with his sword. They leave.

Two days pass. The three stone walls slowly sink back into the ground, all at once…

… Dragging his body along with them.

The Writer's Block, Chapter 2

2: Hyperia

Hyperia, ruler of seas. Sometime after the corruption of William Johnson, he was a sailor. He fished… fishes. Yes, in my story, it is possible to fish man and dragons. Some humans decided to live in the seas, so they developed gills. How? I don’t know. I’m writing a fantasy story; nothing has to be scientifically accurate or possible.

According to scientific research, the first fish was the offspring of man and dragon.

Also according to scientific research, Hyperia was the offspring of man, dragon and fish.

Hyperia is a being without gender. It has no reproductive organs. It is also a hundred feet tall and weighs twenty tons. It has the face of a human baby, the body of a fish, and a purple dragon’s tail.

You know, I shared my ideas regarding Hyperia’s origins to some people; they loved it. I mean, who doesn’t love sex and fantastical elements?

Twenty minutes passed. Hyperia became the ruler of seas. It ate man, dragon and fish. It ate twenty of each per day.

So this part is set twenty days after Hyperia was born.

William Johnson sets forth to catch some fish, but there is none. His mouth forms an “O” shape. He continues sailing. He lobs his net over the edge of his modest fishing boat. Nothing. He sails again. He lobs again. He catches a Hyperia.

Hyperia screams. William Johnson covers both of his ears. Hyperia stares at the man, still bedding the net on its head.

“I've heard of you. You are the legendary warrior, Sir William Johnson. I feel insulted that you came to fish me instead of fight me. Prepare to die!”

Hyperia lifts his right fin and smashes it against the fishing boat. William Johnson blocks the attack with his mighty sword, but the impact shatters his boat. He is now in the sea. William Johnson can’t swim. He is drowning.

Now here’s the part where Hyperia has a sudden change of heart and saves William Johnson. The two will eventually become the best of friends. But I’m not going to let that happen. I have to eliminate William Johnson before Silvia Grace is killed. I have to remove him from the story, now.

Hyperia’s heart softens. It pities the legendary warrior. But its pity is redirected to itself. 

“I’m useless! What kind of rubbish am I? A man-fish-dragon? No! I want to be a legendary warrior, not this! I am full of jealousy right now!”

William Johnson drowns.

You know, I really want to kill Hyperia off as well, since his only purpose in the story is to illustrate the fishing prowess of William Johnson. But William Johnson died. Also, Silvia Grace is still dead. I have to continue my investigations.

Hyperia dives deeper into the water. It uses its ultimate move, “Super Hyperia Scanner” to scan all sources of water on the planet. Yet, Hyperia does not find what it is looking for.

So Silvia Grace’s remains are not in the seas. That’s a relief. What? Hey, I don’t know shit about the underwater world, alright? Don’t give me that look.

Silvia Grace must have died sometime further back in the past. But let’s not talk about her. I need a new main character as I have killed off William Johnson. Say, do you readers mind if I make Hyperia the protagonist?

Hyperia swims to land. Two legs extrude from its purple dragon tail. It also shrinks to the size of man. It walks towards a house by the shore. A woman is sleeping inside.

“Are you in there? I want to be a legendary warrior!”

The woman comes out. She does not walk, she floats. She has long white hair, pure white eyes, white lips and white fingernails. She also wears a simple white dress.

“Ah, it’s you…. wait. You’re not supposed to be here yet.”

The woman is Shuma-Ti, Master of Fantasy. She is supposedly an enigmatic character that played some part in the corruption of William Johnson. She is to appear again near the very end of the story, blessing William Johnson’s four friends the strength to fight against a huge monster.

“No, master. I am supposed to be here right now. I want to be a legendary warrior.”

“So, you’re telling me that William Johnson died.”

“Yes, master.”

“You killed him.”

Two arms begin to extrude from Hyperia’s fish body.

You know, I don’t think Hyperia would make an interesting protagonist; it’s too… innocent? You know, maybe Silvia Grace should be the main character. But, you know, she’s like, dead.

I honestly don’t know where the hell I am going with this.

“Master, please make me human! I no longer want to be humiliated by my fishy little dragon’s ass!”

“You will stop your profanity at once! Accept yourself for who you are, now!”

“Goo-goo ga-ga!”

You know… I kinda forgot that Hyperia’s only twenty days old. It shouldn’t be able to speak English yet. Yeah, I’m a bad writer. Sometimes, we writers tend to forget important plot details. Hmm…

“Go back home! It is not time yet.”

Hyperia walks away in tears. It suddenly feels a strong pain in its chest area. Its mouth forms an “O” shape. It falls. It dies from a heart attack.

Alright, no more distractions. I still have to find the time period in which Silvia Grace died.

There is another friend of William Johnson. Its name is “R.E.T.I.N.A.”. I have to go back to the time of William Johnson’s corruption. It took place in his home.

I’ll go back ten days before the battle between Hyperia and William Johnson.

William Johnson is making coffee in his cosy wooden home. However, he is a very frightened man. He knows that this day will come. He patiently waits. Drops of sweat rains onto his coffee. He drinks it.

“O my worrying heart, fear not, for this darkness, I shall overcome!”

*knock*

“She is here.”

William Johnson forces himself to walk towards the main door, which is four feet away. He struggles.

*knock*

His whole body is moving violently. He reaches for the doorknob and twists it open. He sees a baby-faced man with a fish body and a dragon tail.

Wait, what the fuck. No, this isn’t… supposed to happen.

The Writer's Block, Chapter 3

3: R.E.T.I.N.A.

“You’re the legendary warrior, Sir William Johnson, aren’t you?”

“O dear… To me, you’re a stranger, but O dear, O dear, O dear… What has happened to a young man like you? If knowing me will help you, then by all means, Sir William Johnson is I.”

No, no, no! Shuma-Ti is supposed to knock on that door! I simply changed the future, how can the past be affec-

“Why, your kindness is absolute, worthy of a respected warrior! Indeed, I look disgusting, there is no need to hide it. But that is not what I’m here for.”

“O young man, please do come in before you continue. Have a seat! A cup of coffee will be served to you by yours truly! Make yourself at home.”

Hyperia smiles and goes in. It sits on a soft cushioned chair. William Johnson takes note of the creature’s arms and legs. They are gross, yet beautiful.

“There is no need for coffee, sir. Coffee is a drug; I don’t take drugs.”

“I fully understand that, young man. Now, to me, and a secret I will keep if you wish, let out your heart and liberate your words!”

Yes, I want to know too. Tell me. Come on, speak up, Hyperia!

“Sir, I know that I will leave this world ten days later. It can only be avoided if I become a legendary warrior like you. Please, sir, teach me your ways!”

… This is unexpected.

“O young man, know that yours truly is haunted by inescapable darkness. I cannot teach you, although I would die for the sake of you. If you, O young man, is as dark as me, then a fate worse than death, it will be!”

You know what, I’ll stop being surprised. I mean, Silvia Grace, whom I created, just died without me planning it. That’s weird enough.

Well, R.E.T.I.N.A. was originally going to appear at this point; it is a robotic maid that is to be powered solely by William Johnson’s goodwill. After he is corrupted, R.E.T.I.N.A. will continue to do good things, such as helping old ladies cross the street, in attempt to redeem the sinful actions of the darkened William Johnson.

But I guess the robot is no longer needed…

“Sir, I have to deny that. I know that you will no longer turn bad.”

“O young man, I believe you entirely.”

… Don’t ask. William Johnson knows whether or not people are lying. He can read faces.

“Sir, now that you know you’re not going to be a bad guy, what are you going to do?”

“O young man, a warrior of justice, I may be, but all of man have unfulfilled dreams; an engineer, I will like to be.”

“I wholeheartedly support you, sir! But can you teach me how to be a legendary warrior?”

“After this, O young man.”

William Johnson walks to a nearby mineral cave to mine iron. After twenty minutes, he walks out with a sack full of iron.

Another twenty minutes pass. William Johnson breathes a sigh of relief. He smiles at his masterpiece. Hyperia cheers enthusiastically. William Johnson names the robot “R.E.T.I.N.A.”.

Oh great. How should I eliminate William Johnson now? I can’t manipulate the story too much, because the past will be affected… somehow.

Maybe if I don’t make his death permanent…

William Johnson falls. He dies from a heart attack.

Um, nope. Silvia Grace is still dead.

R.E.T.I.N.A. resurrects him.

I’m too lazy to go online and search for “realistic” resurrection methods, so I’ll leave it like that.

“What happened, sir?”

“Absolutely nothing, O young man.”

“Okay, sir.”

Damn, how can Silvia Grace still be dead? Just when did William Johnson kill her? Maybe if I continue, I might get some answers.

“Sir, will you teach me how to be a legendary warrior?”

“I am pleased to, young man. R.E.T.I.N.A., you are allowed to leave and contribute to man!”

R.E.T.I.N.A. leaves the house. It has a female figure, slightly shorter than the moderately-tall William Johnson. Its face is covered with iron. Its entire body is bland grey in colour.

Oh, and R.E.T.I.N.A. stands for Really Extremely Totally Incredibly Natural Ass. I forgot to emphasize the roundness of her butt in the above paragraph, but I don’t think I have to.

William Johnson has an eccentric sense of humour.

R.E.T.I.N.A. floats to the Green Market. The market is crowded. R.E.T.I.N.A. hates crowds. It shies to a corner near the main road. It stumbles across an elderly woman who is having trouble crossing the busy street.

“Aging lady detected. Engaging command, ‘Assistance in Crossing Road’.”

It floats towards the elderly woman. It holds her left arm. Its eyes fixate on her right hand, which is holding a wooden broom.

No! This whole story is fucked up! What is she doing here? She’s supposed to be a minor character! No, minor is an overstatement; I planned to dedicate only one paragraph to her!

“Young lady… I appreciate it… very much. You’re so kind…”

“Appreciation detected.  Initializing action, ‘Smile’.”

The two safely cross the road.

This is lame! Lamest shit ever! This tells me nothing about Silvia Grace’s death! Stupid, stupid, stupid!

“Thank you… You’re the sweetest young lady on the planet.”

She is not supposed to be so soft-hearted! She’s meant to be a mean character! She’s a killer! How can a mere robot change her?

Damn you, R.E.T.I.N.A.; you’ve ruined all this shit! Just go… do good things somewhere else; don’t help Equinox el’Eriathas for fuck’s sake! Her only role in the story is to sweep and be a bitch!

R.E.T.I.N.A. leaves the Green Market and heads back to the home of William Johnson, where the latter is training Hyperia at the small open area outside the wooden house.

“O my masterpiece, you’re back! Words cannot describe my happiness. If you are without problem or worry, will you prepare a cup of coffee for me?”

R.E.T.I.N.A. heads to the kitchen to prepare coffee.

Twenty minutes later, William Johnson and Hyperia re-enters the house.

“O my masterpiece, I sincerely offer my warmest thanks to you for this aromatic cup of coffee! Now, tell me, if it is something you are not told to keep secret, how have you contributed to man today?”

“R.E.T.I.N.A. helped a woman cross the street.”

“How wonderful, that is! If the woman is one you know of, can I know who she is?”

“The woman is Silvia Grace.”

The Writer's Block, Chapter 4

4: The Trader

You know, I actually planned for this twist. William Johnson has programmed R.E.T.I.N.A. to recognize Equinox el’Eriathas as Silvia Grace.

Well, now that you know that, I guess I can spoil this for you. Equinox el’Eriathas is Silvia Grace. That’s the biggest twist. I expect to get rich from that twist alone.

Readers will spend days, months and years analysing both of the characters. A legendary warrior falling in love with an elderly sweeper… it brings me to tears! How did the sweeper manage to purify the darkness of William Johnson? Why did the writer call the sweeper by the name of Silvia Grace?

Ah… I just love to daydream; imagine how much money I will get. This will be an all-time bestselling story! BUT IT ALL WENT TO HELL!

Equinox el’Eriathas is alive, although Silvia Grace is dead. I just don’t understand.

Whatever. I can’t have Hyperia involved anymore. I have to go back another twenty days.

William Johnson walks to the Green Market. He wants to buy cucumbers. He walks around. He walks. He continues walking. He walks. He walks.

This is boring. I have to act now.

William Johnson feels an eerie presence. He looks upwards. A face slowly forms.

“O clouds, how interesting you are! But how uncomfortable I am at being interested at you!”

I question him.

“O clouds, you speak of the passing of my loved one, Silvia Grace. However, Silvia Grace is very much alive.”

William Johnson points towards his right. She is sitting on the street cross-legged, eating a small piece of bread. She is the sweeper, Equinox el’Eriathas.

I question him again.

“I beg your pardon? No, this is the most impossible situation! O clouds, I believe you, as you are not lying. I will find her!”

So the William Johnson of this time period is confused. I no longer suspect him as much as before. There must be other clues. I have to meet his other friend.

Oh, there he is!

William Johnson leaves the market as the sweeper watches on. A lean-built man approaches the sweeper.

“Equinox, everything is out of place.”

“Seeing you here today is enough to prove that.”

“What should we do?”

“Do what we are meant to do—kill people.”

Hmm, I guess not too much has changed. Yes, The Trader and Equinox el’Eriathas are written for one real purpose—to eliminate certain characters. As writers, we have a tendency for writing ourselves into a corner. I’m smart, so I take the easy way out. Yes, readers will hate me for this, but it’s much better than pulling off some bullshit “miracle”.

Plus, sometimes I write shit that may get me killed. These two eliminate any thoughts of doing that.

The man and the sweeper leaves the Green Market.

William Johnson once again stares at the clouds, which no longer has a face.

Suddenly, a man appears right in front of William Johnson. He is wearing a brown overcoat.

“One million dollars.”

“O great friend of mine, such a low price is unheard of! Pay it, I will. Eliminate the one who offered, will you?”

I expected this. The Trader is not supposed to appear until the very end of the story, where he will ask for that same price from William Johnson. By then, he is far too corrupted, but most importantly, poor. The Trader, who is the world’s most skilled mercenary, will then eliminate William Johnson.

Well, that’s because he couldn’t pay in the original story. But now he could…

You know, I still haven’t decided on who I want the “one who offered” to be. Who ordered the elimination of William Johnson?

So the game goes like this; the one who offered will offer The Trader a price to kill a target, let’s say a million dollars, and that person will pay beforehand. If the target manages to pay The Trader any amount higher than the offered price, then the one who offered will be the target. The latter can now pay a higher amount than the new offered price, and the game continues.

No one in the story doubts The Trader’s abilities, for he never failed his duty.

The Trader follows William Johnson back to his wooden house, where the latter hands him a sack of gold bars that is worth exactly two million dollars.

“O great friend of mine, my heart refuse to believe that the one who offered has more gold than this! Do make haste, my friend.”

The Trader leaves the house. William Johnson sighs.

“Indeed, if I were not Sir William Johnson, my heart would be inviting his knife back then!”

*knock*

“May I know who is knocking?”

“A man-fish-dragon, sir!”

I don’t know whether to be worried or pissed.

“Come in, o friend!”

Hyperia walks into the residence’s living room with his very ugly legs.

“O friend, if I were normal, I would have been worried about you! But I’m no longer normal.”

“Sir, I want to be a legendary warrior! But… you told me that you’re not… normal? Why, sir! I am a great listener! Tell me all of your life’s problems!”

“O friend, a poor legendary warrior, which is I, yielded two million to The Trader!”

“That is the most horrible news! Is there any way I can ever help you, sir?”

“We have to defeat the monster!”

“What monster?”

At that moment, R.E.T.I.N.A. floats into the living room.

“Do you like coffee, young being?”

“Uh, I don’t drink coffee. Maybe sir needs some.”

I no longer want to be surprised. My story is shit. All is hopeless. It’s late. I’ll continue finding Silvia Grace tomorrow.

Tomorrow…!!

I can’t sleep.

The Writer's Block, Chapter 5

5: Equinox

I did not get any sleep at all last night. This fucking sucks. But it’s all for Silvia Grace.

I should stop exploring the fictional world. Maybe I can find more clues in the real world. It’s been quite some time since I’ve been out there. All the scary people, all the meanies, all the weird, ugly, dirty people…

… I think I’m going to be alright…

So I’m now sitting on a long bench in the middle of… somewhere. I don’t know. How can I see shit with all these fuckers walking around? It’s great that I’ve brought my laptop with me, because I feel safe behind a screen. I’m only confident when I express myself through words. No, writing on paper won’t do, because there’s no spelling check. What if I make spelling mistakes?

It’s been an hour. This is a fucking waste of time, don’t you agree? I mean, why do I even care so much about Silvia Grace? Yes, she’s my favourite character, but for fuck’s sake, she’s hindering the progression of my writing!

I’m now sitting by the streets. There are probably only five people here. None of them are looking at me. No! Fuck you! There’s a fucking ass baby staring at me! Just, shoo! Stop! He’s gone. Good.

Yes… all is good…

Fuck everything in life. It’s already the next day, I think? Shit. I wasted a whole day. Now what?

I am sobbing. I can’t control it. Help me… Why the hell am I so useless? I just want to be… someone.

Wait, I am seeing something. No. I have to approach it.

I’m back home… I’m fucked.

So… I saw this woman. A sweeper. On the streets. Sweeping. Sweeping. What does a sweeper even do? Keep a place clean?

Everyone litters. And when someone cleans them up, people treat them like shit. But they’re humans too.

But me? But… I’m just me. But…

The woman, she was fucking Equinox el’Eriathas. She was fucking with me. Why could I see her? I thought I could only see her in my fantasies. Why… in real life?

It’s only 6pm.

I head back. I’m here. The place I cried. I am seeing her. I cannot stop writing. This laptop is my shield. I’m waiting. For her. To come closer.

She is closer.

Closer.

“Young man, why are you so afraid?”

That’s what she said. I cannot look up. She’s five feet from my face. Her tone is soft. But I’m scared.

Because I… was once a sweeper.

Isn’t she afraid of me? I’m sitting here trembling so hard that people thought I’m possessed. I’m typing so loud it’s like I have metallic fingers. I’m so emaciated, so thin, so fleshless, I look like a corpse.

Yes, I created her, I created Equinox el’Eriathas, so I should know better than this, but, but, but,

WHY ISN’T SHE AFRAID?

How can a sweeper watch a fellow sweeper turn into shit and still maintain a straight face?

No. Stay away. Please, be afraid of me. I take back my words. Don’t. Come. Closer. I am moving a few inches back. She moves a few inches forwa- no fuck you! Don’t move!

I feel a wall. It’s behind me. I’m leaning on it.

Be afraid be afraid be afraid be afraid be afraid be afraid be afraid be afraid

No. Not afraid. No.

WHY?

I hear a voice. It said something like “Stop!” I think. I don’t know. Yes. The sweeper is turning around. Yes. Go. Yes, she went. Away she goes!

I’m back home.

Phew. I hope that’s it. I can no longer trust my characters. I don’t even want to explore my characters’ pasts anymore. But… Silvia Grace… She’s…

Hey, you. Yeah, the one reading this. You’re my only friend now. Everyone in the world hates me. My own characters hate me…

I promise I won’t desert you.

Yes, I deserted everyone, but I won’t do the same to you. I promise. Okay?

All you have to do is save me.

Protect me.

I’m innocent.

Will you sleep with me? Don’t worry, my bed’s big enough. If you like, you can take the whole bed; I’ll sleep on the floor.

If you want coffee, just ask R.E.T.I.N.A.

Me? I don’t think I need coffee now. I need a good night’s sleep. I hope you understand me, my dear.

Tomorrow will be a busy day for me. I will head back to the place where I cried.

The Green Market.

I have to settle this; for my sake, for your sake. Please do not miss me too much, sweetheart, for tomorrow’s the third day.

The Writer's Block, Chapter 6

6: Shuma-Ti

It’s the third day.

I did not get any sleep last night.

I have to go to the Green Market.

To meet my friends.

I am at the Green Market.

There is no one.

I am sitting at the spot.

Where I cried.

“Hey, look!”

“Human detected.”

“Hmm.”

“It is our greatest honour to meet you again, young man.”

Yes. They are coming. I can’t see them, but I can hear them. I will not run away anymore. I no longer have anything to live for.

… Silvia Grace.

She is the only one who understands all this. She will help me… if she’s alive. I failed. I cannot do anything to prevent her death.

“Would you like some coffee, master?”

Yes. I do need it. Give it to me. Ah, it soothes my nerves. But it doesn’t change anything. My maid, R.E.T.I.N.A., still recognizes me as its master. Good. Thanks so much. I promise, this will be the last cup. After this, you’re free. Go find your true passion. Don’t let others dictate you. I remember you told me that you wanted to be an engineer? Then go. Do it. Don’t come back and visit your poor old master anymore!

“Fear me! For I am now a legendary warrior!”

Yes, you’ve grown a lot, Hyperia. My son, there were many times when I’ve mistreated you; please don’t go telling anyone, okay? Although if you do, I won’t blame you. You’re going to be a teenager soon, and you’ll have to face this cruel, cruel world alone. But I’ve equipped you with skills. Go! Be who I am not! Be a true legendary warrior!

”Two million dollars.”

I’m sorry. I don’t have that much cash with me right now; not at home, or at the bank; not in a hundred years. I am a failure. I have no goals in life. If there’s one thing I should learn from you, brother, it’s to focus on one thing at a time. I get distracted easily. Yes, maybe I should be like you, but I kept resisting myself. Getting paid to kill? That sounds simple, though I really can’t bring myself to kill. But hey, I’m glad I did not.

“Young man, just look at you! What has happened to the great man I’ve once known?

I’m sorry… Equinox, my old pal. That great man is gone. The man who sweeps happily every day, who brings joy to people’s lives. I swept the trash of the most inconsiderate of man, and I did so gleefully. Now I look down upon poor people, although I’m poor myself. I’m such a hypocrite. What happened to me? I don’t know. I don’t even care anymore.

There is no more hope in life.

There is no one.

There is one. A face. On the clouds.

“William Johnson, I believe that you have killed Silvia Grace. You better speak up. I demand full respect from you.”

O mysterious man, I am deeply unsettled by your mysteriousness; but Silvia Grace the woman I love, her murder, I have not done.

“William Johnson, I do not believe you, not even one bit! You are guilty, so admit it!”

O mysterious man, once again I inform you of my innocence. Saddened by this, I very much am. Ask my five great friends! They will deny all that you accuse me of; they will do it proudly!

“William Johnson, don’t you dare run away from me! Do you know who I am? I am the true lover of Silvia Grace, and you killed her!”

O mysterious man, spare me, for I have done no wrong! None in this world loves Silvia Grace more than I. None knows her more than I! None can find her but I!

…The voice’s gone?

Pardon me, but the writer of this story is gone.

The writer formerly known as William Johnson died three days ago, presumably due to a heart attack.

You know what’s stupid? When the only thing motivating you in life is something that doesn’t exist.

Silvia Grace is perfect, at least to William Johnson. But she’s not dead.

She doesn’t exist.

Why waste your time going crazy over something that doesn’t exist for you, when you have something that doesn’t exist for others?

William Johnson is poor. William Johnson is lonely. William Johnson writes shit stories.

But William Johnson has enough to keep him alive. William Johnson didn’t resort to killing for money. William Johnson has a fully functional body. William Johnson is actually quite good-looking. William Johnson lived through a great childhood. William Johnson has a wonderful family.

But what doesn’t exist for William Johnson?

You.

You are Silvia Grace. Yes, you never read the stories of William Johnson. But I can’t blame you; that bastard has never published anything before…

…because he knows that no one will read them.

It’s a contradicting scenario. William Johnson’s unconfident, insecure, unstable, so you can’t really blame him too.

He has just written himself into a corner. No one could rescue him; no one wants to rescue him. Silvia Grace, you made him like this.

I’m just a fortune teller, predicting the futures of everyone in the story.

To him, his whole life is a fantasy. To him, I’m the Master of Fantasy.

To him, I’m his wife, Shuma-Ti.