Words of Ficton.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
A young man discovers he has the power to bring his writing to life, but it doesn't quite go as planned.

Submitted: April 27, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: April 27, 2012



I was at work, running the orders I had left so I could leave for the day. A donut was sitting next to my keyboard that I was saving as a victory snack for when it was quitting time. I like to reward myself for a days work. Even if my job isn't physical taxing in any way. I've become so a custom to this job I can do it well and not have to really pay attention to it. Which helps a lot with the monotony of my position in the company. I'm in a position where I have to command a certain level of controll over what happens wile at the same time not have any actually authority. It get quite annoying and sometimes aggravating, but I'm able to pull it of with a bit of piss and vinegar.

The end of the day has finally arrived. The last order has been ran and the final package pick up has come and gone. I have to say a couple hours after everyone else leaves to lock up and close out the system. So after the last truck leaves I am the only one in the entire building. I enjoy this time of the day, no bosses to preach, no coworkers to deal with. Just me and my thoughts. Sometimes when my work is completed I like to punch out and climb the racks instead of paying for a gym membership. The racks are roughly 30 feet high and can hold thousands of pounds, so there's no worry for them to fall. Today I decided against working out, instead I took my donut and relaxed a bit in my chair. I had shut all the lights off in the warehouse except the one over my desk. Having a rush of inspiration, I picked up a pencil and started to write.

\"All alone in a deserted warehouse, staring into the darkness across the way. My imagination took hold and I saw the impossible. A figure moving through the shadows.\"

I was a very deep writer, or at least I thought I was.

\"The figure seamlessly moved through he shadows, as if it was dancing with the darkness. Then, just as my interest peaked, it entered the light. The man was tall, roughly seven feet. He wore a clergymans robes, hands held infront of him. His face held no features. No mouth, eyes, or nose. He was just standing there, if he had eyes he would have been lookin straight in my direction.\"

I put the pencil down because I felt it was time to re-read what I have wrote. I read it out loud, as was my custom. It sounded good, but I felt the last part needed more description. I reached for my pencils but stopped when I herd shuffling in the darkness. I stood up from my chair, the light above my head made it a challenge to make out anything past my short range of sight. The shuffling continued, coming from directly ahead of me. Against my better judgement I reached over my desk and flipped the switch on the support beam. Turning off the light, allowing my eyes to adjust to the very dark area. After a few minutes of struggling, my eyes began to adjust. The shuffling stopped, and I was able to make out a figure. It was tall and appeared to be wareing long robes. My heart skipped a beat when I remembered my story. The mysterious figure stood there, Not moving an inch. The possibility of my writing coming true was nonsense. There was no way, it must have been a coworker play mind games with me. I walked at a relatively swift pace to the wall where the main light switches were. The figure didn't move an inch. I flipped the switch and jumped back in absolute terror. My writing had come true and the creature I wrote of now existed. Why didn't it move though? Then I had though of the extent of what I wrote. I stopped before I had it do anything other then stand there. I walked back towards my desk, not taking my eyes off this thing. I shifted my eyes towards what I had wrote and picked up my pencil. Looking at this monster once more, I looked back towards the paper and wrote.

\"The faceless creature turned around and dissapeared into the darkness. Never to be seen by anyone again.\"

I looked up to find the creature walking toward the back of the warehouse where the lights had not been turned on. My hand shook and I fell into my seat. I sat there for hours contemplating how this could happen. To this day I still have no clue what caused my writing to come to life, but I can tell you that it took me weeks before I could build up the courage to bring pencil to paper again.

I was all set, ready to test this out. I had brand new paper and a freshly sharpened pencil. I was seated in the exact spot I was the first time, At my work desk. I had turned off all the lights other then the one above my desk, just like before. Except this time I was prepared. After weeks of goin over it in my head, and trying to figure out how my writing had manifested itself. I was still lost, but then it hit me. I would recreate the environment I was in and test it out. Something simple at first, something that could not hurt anyone. That being my biggest fear, something coming to life that could hurt another person. I picked my pencil up, leaned over the paper and wrote.

\"I was sitting comfortably at my desk, when out of no where a plate of donuts appeared on the table behind me.\"

I quickly turned around to find nothing out of the ordinary. I was puzzled, why had it worked before and not this time. I put the pencil down, and leaned over the paper once more. I re-read the sentence, as I always do after I write something. Then I remembered that the shuffling didn't start Untill after I read what was on the page. Quickly I spun around to find a plate full of donuts stacked like a pyramid. I let out a loud and deep laugh, this was incredible! I had written a plate of donuts into existence! I rolled my chair over and grabbed a chocolate glazed long john and went to town. It was the best donut I've ever tasted! Taking the plate I rolled back to my desk, wondering what I should test next. I picked the pencil back up and wrote.

\"I was sitting at my desk, eating donuts. When the chair I was sitting in begun to roll back to the table behind me.\"

Even though I had just willed donuts into existence, a part of me felt the need for more proof. This should have disbanded all doubts. The floor I was on was perfectly flat. I got myself ready, and I began to read once more. In an instant, my chair began rolling back! It was slow but there was no doubt about, my chair was moving on its own! I was convinced, this was absolutely happening! I could make anything happen! What was I gonna do first? The possibilities were endless, but there was a problem. I had to be careful, very careful. If I had finished that story a few weeks back I would most likely be dead.

How did I gain this ability, they must have been some way to find out. Then an idea came to me. I picked the pencil up, and choose my words carefully.

\"I was sitting here, in my chair. Pondering as to how I got this newfound ability. When a folded note appeared on the table. Telling me where this power was obtained.\"

I read the words and a folded note appeared. The paper itself was old, it look and felt like it came out of the dark ages. The edges of the note were charred as if it was thrown in a fire then quickly removed. I picked it up carefully, it looked as if it would crumble from the slightest touch. In folding the note I saw brownish lettering directly in the center of the paper which read.

\"Your blood.\"

Could that have ment I was born with this? If so then why didn't I notice it till now? If anything I had more questions then I began with, I went to place the note down when something I can only describe as horrifying happens. More words appeared on the paper! As if the note itself was playing games with me, it now read.

\"We want Your Blood\"

No words describe how I felt when I read that note. When a supernatural force tells you it wants your blood, you tend to feel helpless. I ripped up the note and tossed it into my garbage bin. I rather not have this ability and keep my life, so I litter my pencil for the final time.

  \"I was suddenly stripped of this power. Never having the ability to do it again.\"

I read these words as if they were my last. There was a loud high pitched buzz that flooded the warehouse. The desk shook, and my paper caught fire. The lights all throughout the building flickered on and off. I heard a loud banging sound coming from the other end of the warehouse. With he lights flickering I was able to make out a large figure, walking towards me, banging a large metal bar on the racks as it walked. It wore long robes and was heading in my direction. As it got closer the flickering light allowed me to make out its face. Or should I say lack there of! It was that creature I called into existence a few weeks back!

My breathing became heavy and labored, I felt weird inside. I was beginning to have stomach pains. There was a quiet screech coming from the table that grabbed my attention. The pile of donuts that sat on the plate began to move! They were wobbleing and squeaking, then they began to sprout what looked to be legs! Wile at the same time they all split at one end. That split opened up to revile row upon row of razor Sharp teeth! Each donut began to scurry in my direction, putting there newly formed legs to work. The pain in my stomach grew, what could have been wrong. Then I remembered that I had eaten one of those donuts! I was backing away slowly but the donuts became better at running by the second and before I knew it they were at my feet! I turned to run but somehow the faceless creature had gotten behind me, blocking the only escapes route!

  The donuts encircled me, snarling and showing off there teeth. The stomach pain became unbearable and I fell to my knees holding my gut. My vision blurred, my arms went numb, and the taste of blood filled my mouth. The faceless creature came towards me, metal bar in hand. He raised his hand and drew a small cross with his thumb on my forehead. The pain grew and my vision went dark.

I didn't survive that day, though if your reading this, you might have thought otherwise. My body was found the next morning. Curled up on the floor with blood dripping from my mouth. A cross drawn in blood on my forehead. Though I did die, my ideas and stories live on. Creativity and inspiration is not a human creation. We are given it, and all they ask in return. Is a single life, every thousand years.

How could I say no?

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