A Self-Study Within A Broken Mind

I support the idea, JJ . You have your character, me, tortured in the story, begging for a way out. I want out, too. The story you’re crafting for me has become a strain on the reader, on the character, and on the author. It’s about time to abort this before you burn your mind up. “The writer, or author, often has to torture the written or the character,” he says. “Besides, what would happen to you if I just shredded that weave? The ‘you’ under the covers of my invisible shroud would know of that erasure, the future that never was. If you think that would not bleed over to the different ‘you’ in the story, you’re being dumb.” Then just erase that part and- “I’m not cutting out my work, Finn,” He interrupts. “There is an ending to this story. You might not like it, but I'll decide how it goes.” alter So he returns, reads over the recent events to catch himself up and lets me speak once more, pen at my neck. What have you come here for? Don’t pretend you want to write about me right ...

“How does it feel?” Fiona asked, looking at me. “Strange,” I replied. “When I close my eyes, I see this giant dome of silver. I’m inside it with all my memories. The walls are mirrored and I can create anything inside the confines. That’s my mind!” “Correct,” Doc chimed in. “Now imagine yourself a mess of computers and feed information that’s overloading you into them. It’s unfortunate how little a human brain can contain.” Before I could ask if this would show up every time I closed my eyes, the old man was gone. “Are you ok?” Fiona asked. “You looked worried for a moment there. Weren’t you going to ask Doc about the gender of our baby?” “Oh, yeah,” I said, closing my eyes. There was a fragment of speech I could not place there. I had no idea who spoke it, but it said “Experimental Bastard.” For some reason, I had a feeling that our child was a boy, in human terms at least. “It would be very interesting if it was a boy with energies of a Zaxient female , huh?” Did my saying so just ...

I woke up to my own bed and sat up in fear of being at home. A dream. It was all a dream. My first thought erased all I’ve learned of Garavand , Zaxi , and Secear with a flush of relief, but the second questioned the complexity I imagined. My relief was cut down by Fiona waking up to kiss me. “What’s wrong?” she asked with searching eyes. “Why are we at my place?” I asked. There was more I needed to know, but hesitated thinking that if the words of it left my mouth, they would become true. I could only wait for her to expose my reality. “Doc said that we should live in a relaxing environment while the baby gestates,” she said. Doc was real. Then all of it had to be real. Ernie, Agi, all real. Panic hit me at the reality of this fantasy, but a memory of one night together with Fiona righted me. She was carrying my child now. “But humans are hunting you,” I said. “And they’re sure to be watching me. This place isn’t safe for us, the three of us.” Fiona smiled and touched her stomach. “I...

What are you playing at? Are you trying to collide your reality with the story? Was this your plan all along? “I’m testing a theory,” he says. “All it needed was planting a part of myself in the story. Scary, isn’t it? The mysterious JJ hides under a flawless invisible shroud within your mind. Even this pup of darkness fears me.” Won’t it mess up the story? He smirks. “Do you think I’d let it?” He asks in answer. From somewhere in his own memory, I hear a deduction. An answer in the form of a question suggests the person is hiding the truth. “Ok, enough chit-chat. Shroud back on.” alter “Yeah…” I said. Ernie took a large gulp of beer. “Just bothers me a bit.” “I’ve got like twenty things that are bothering me right now, man,” he said, putting the bottle to his lips again. The remaining contents drained in a few seconds. “Like, where is my garem? How do I become a full Garavand ? Or why can’t I connect to my own kind at all? There is this thing called the Dream Vestibule , but I can’t ...