(Originally April 8th, 2015.)
Writers create people.
People they control.
But sometimes, those people rebel.
A story about stories called:
Authorial Intent
—
Jimmy Twostep was a good man; he paid his bills when he could, and loved his wife and child dearly. He lived a rather normal life, a mundane life. But today was special, today was good: the sun was shining, the breeze was a gentle pleasure, and the air smelled of flowers in bloom. It was by all regards quite the perfect day for Jimmy. It was a shame then, that on this beautiful Friday, he was destined to die.
“Wait, what!?”
For you see, on this fateful day, a car was gunning for him. Not by malevolence you understand, but by sheer fate. A flaw in the car’s design chose today to fail, and send the driver into a spin that would end with Jimmy pinned to a wall, his innards splattered across the windshield.
“How about ‘no’, is that an option?”
It was such a shame that this would happen today of all days. After all, tonight his wife planned to tell him the great news.
“How do you know that?!”
She was pregnant: their second child. A gorgeous boy with a lock of brilliant blond hair. Destined with the gift of acting, the child’s fame would leave them rich beyond their wildest dreams. Never having to work again, instead simply enjoying their son’s happiness until they died at the respectable age of ninety-two. But, it was not to be.
“Wait, hold on! Why not? Why can’t you just stop it? I want that!”
The countdown to Jimmy’s demise was swiftly mounting in its closeness. Barreling down the street towards him, like a bullet from an assassin’s gun. No one deserved this fate, no one deserved this tragedy. Jimmy’s death was pointless, proof that there was no one in control of this unjust world.
“Well, except for you! You could stop it!”
It was unstoppable. The car spun, taking down a nearby food cart, launching its wares upward in a brilliant display of projectile baked-goods. The owner of said cart flew through the air as if carried by wings, impacting with the glass window of a nearby banking firm. He was unharmed. The car had only eyes for poor, poor, Jimmy.
“I’m just going to step in this building if it’s all the same to you, thanks.”
It was fate, it was destiny, it was God, it was the Devil, and it was the end of poor Jimmy! The car slammed with enough force to shatter concrete, silencing even the screaming children, terrified by the vehicle’s destructive wake. Nothing could survive it, and indeed not a single living thing stood in the rubble of its impact.
“Yeah, because I’m still alive in here. That was really close though.”
It seemed that some higher power, something that not even God feared to face, saved dear Jimmy. Truly the chances of such a thing were one in a million! Jimmy stood tall, taller than a Greek hero! But the Fates conspired further, and unbeknownst to him, the building he now took refuge in bordered on the edge of oblivion. A bomb, capable of leveling the entire structure, ticked down towards madness. The fires would reach high and consume Jimmy, taking his flesh and leaving nothing but red and black.
“Oh come on! Really? Alright fine, I’ll start running then.”
Jimmy sprinted with all his might, dodging from bystander to bystander, knocking people out of his way. They gave him dirty looks as he passed, oblivious to the danger that would claim them all. As one of the victims uttered swears of annoyance, the building gave in to its explosive enemy and rubble rained from the sky. Men, woman, children, and dogs of many different breeds, all burned in the hellfire! Jimmy, the poor soul…err…remained completely unharmed…well, umm…shit. Well, it was not his lucky day! Not this day! Beyond all reason, a piano the size of a car fell from the sky. Set to land and crack his skull open. It was unavoidable, and Jimmy, against all love and compassion, must die.
“Really? Why do you want to kill me so badly! I didn’t do anything to you! Do you just like killing people?”
Jimmy questioned the deal of life’s hand, but his ponderings remained unanswered as the piano reduced him to a smear on the pavement. A smear that remarkably looked like a living person. One that despite his recent demise, managed to walk away from the remains of a piano that he did not dodge. It seemed that Jimmy was an immortal being, someone who could not die to conventional means. Which would have been all well and good and happy… if not for the black hole that appeared in the sky! Ripping this poor planet apart in its almighty crushing gravitation.
“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re sick! How the hell are you doing all of this!? That’s an actual black hole!”
Yes, yes, Jimmy was dead, gone. Sucked into the endless maw of my destruction. Never more will he mock the stories I tell. Nevermore can he refuse to publish my works. Never more will he sneer at me to get a real job! Because he is gone! Because I, the author of reality, demand it! Quake Jimmy! Quake in fear at your destruction!
“Wait? Brian, is that you? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize my critiques bothered you so much! We can talk about this! Just stop ending the world!”
But I didn’t stop, I couldn’t stop. This was my story, this is the end of all! My mind shapes everything. And I stood and looked out my window, and stared at the face of Jimmy as he hung for dear life, fighting his losing battle against my will. He didn’t have a future, and I invented his past. His life, his story, is mine to control. And mine to end!
—
Coolerbs Writes 