Off Script

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A Word with The Author

My Universe settled my down from the heavens and onto the dirt road leading to the drawbridge of my father's castle. The guards greeted my silently, with peaceful smiles, and they let me pass. As I opened the chamber doors, the castle looked as it always had. It seemed that nothing had changed.

I heard laughter and cheer coming from the dining room. And then, I was there. I walked through the arches and, for the first time in my life, the first people to notice my entry were my mother and father, the king and the queen. They jumped up from their chairs and they embraced me warmly.

“We were so worried,” said my Mother.

“But, we are so glad to have you back.” said my Father.

They let me go and smiled at me as though I were finally an equal among them.

“Your husband awaits you,” said my Mother. Nothing had changed there, it seemed. She could still knock down my spirit with the utterance of a few words. I breathed deep and sighed. I climbed the stairs up to the room I shared with Auggy and found him standing there, awaiting my arrival.

“Lovely to see you,” he said.

I nodded, not wanting to say that I didn't feel the same way about him.

His hair was slicked to the side and he was dressed well. He opened the door to the bedroom, and then he bowed low. “My prince, your lady has come to see you.”

The door swung open, Auggy gestured for me to go inside. Standing by the window, his poncho silhouetted in the sunlight, was Oliver. My Oliver.

“I think I finally know who you are,” I told him. I sat down upon our bed.

“Yes, you do.” He sat down beside me.

“You are the author.”

He shook his head, “Co-author now. You've changed the story quite a lot, and you will continue to. It's in your nature.”

“You created the dustlink, and the world. You created me!”

“Once upon a time,” he said, “but not anymore. I simply wrote down ideas. I created a fiction, but you brought that fiction to life.”

“I'm real?”

“You and everything you touch.”

I reached my hand over to his cheek and caressed it. He held onto it, the warmth within him warming the cold within me.

“Tell me you're real. Tell me this isn't an illusion.”

He smiled.

Every once in a while, Oliver will mention other stories. He tells me about them, and the people he's created. I don't know how I came to become conscious, and neither does he. But, he's promised to never leave my side and to this day he never has.

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