Writing your own story.

Ian continued running along the underground tunnel, desperate to find a way out. The tunnel had been his home for the last few days and he was tired of it. He wanted to be outside in the warm sun and not where it was constantly dark, cold and wet. Suddenly the tunnel ahead opened into a huge underground cave and Ian began falling into the darkness below. Down and down he went when he soon felt an odd sensation that he wasn’t falling anymore but instead remaining suspended in mid-air. Then he heard voices.

​Wow, that’s pretty good.

Yep, so what happens now?

Okay, so Ian’s falling, so let’s have him land in an underground lake.

Why an underground lake? We’ve done that already. We’re trying to advance the story here, not repeat what’s been told so far.

“Um, hello, who is this?”

Great, he heard us. I knew we should’ve taken this conversation to the next room.

“I hear you talking, who’s there?”

All right, out with it. Hello Ian, we’re Authors.

“Authors?”

Yes, we’re in charge of writing the story of your life.

“Wait a minute. You’re writing the story of MY life?”

Correct.

“Um, I don’t buy that. I believe I’m the one who should be writing my own story.”

See that? I told you this guy’s smart.

Yes, Ian, you should be writing your own story, so why aren’t you?

“But I am!”

No, you haven’t. Take a look at what’s been going on with your life so far. You’ve been stuck in this endless rut that’s been dragging on for years. You sleep all day, then you get up, feel bad you can’t do anything, so you go back to playing video games and listening to tapes all night, then you sleep all day, the pattern repeats and goes on and on and on. How are you telling your story when it sounds like a broken record?

Exactly. It is every single human’s duty to write their own story so it gets published and added to the Great Library. Those who can’t or choose not to have us Authors assigned to them for writing their stories for them. And that’s when we get carried away and exaggerate details of your life like what we’ve written for you so far. All those crazy dreams you’ve had were created by us just to liven up the pages of the book that summarizes your life.

“But I don’t want my dreams to summarize my life! I want this to be a genuine story of my life, not a dream log!”

Then write your own story already. Here’s the pen. Start writing.

“Um, I can’t move.”

That’s because you’re suspended in mid-air. You’re falling down, but where do you land?

“Falling DOWN? How about, I fall UP?”

You can’t fall up! That’s impossible!

“Excuse me, I’m writing the story here. Yes, I fall up back to the underground tunnels and then fly my way back to the surface where I emerge from the canal near where those guys were trying to kill me for trespassing. Only they can’t even see me because I’m flying above the clouds!”

Okay, then what happens?

“Then I fly back home to my Mom and Dad.”

You don’t have a home, remember? Your parents kicked you out, sold the house and then retired to New Jersey.

“They would NEVER kick me out!”

But they already did.

“Let me guess, this is another of your fictitious plots to liven up my story?”

That would be correct.

“And if you made up the plot, it must have never happened, and if it never happened, then this must be all a dream.”

You are so right. This is a dream.

“So how about ending it already?”

Ah, but how do we end it?

“With a scary face, of course. Just show me a scary face and I’ll wake up.”

And what else?

“What do you mean?”

Do you promise to take over writing your story from now on?

“Yes, I promise.”

Okay, here you go.

“What?”

There’s your scary face.

“But I can’t see it.”

Oh, silly us. It’s too dark to see, isn’t it. Excuse us while we turn on the light.

A light shone on a horrific face with pale white skin along with sharp teeth, huge eyes and slits for a nose. The face screamed and Ian suddenly sat up with a start, back in his bed, back in his room and back home with his parents. After a few minutes to allow his awareness to expand, Ian said to himself, “I hereby conclude this chapter that just described yet another of my strange dreams. Starting with the next chapter, there will be details of my life and what I plan to do with it. The rest of the words in the story of my life will be my own, told from my point of view. I will write the rest of the story myself.”

Ian smiled as he got out of bed to get dressed.

“So that’s what they meant by A New Chapter. A new chapter of my story that’s still being told even right now. Time to make this the most exciting chapter yet!”

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