photo by Mikko Lagerstetd
The world was straight. But it appeared to me to be moving in all directions across all dimnsions. I fell to my knees, gasping as I saw the words flash before my eyes, living and writhing. "The End." Everything went black.
And then I was back at the beginning. My head had cleared. That was the cruelest part. Every time I began the journey through my story, my story, I could remember every bit of agony and sorrow from the last time I completed my travels for the thriller I had written. I had tried to make the book end at the beginning and begin at the end. The End. The first words I had written. Somehow I was then pulled into a story my words wrote for me. An agonizing, bone-chilling thriller. The final chapters were worse that all the pain and suffering on all of planet Earth. Not that I would ever see it again. I knew the story would move forward, eventually to Chapter 23, but for now I sat down to sob into my arms. After all, it was part of the story.
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