The Narrative window was open, and the Eyes of Causality peered through. The Author sits, forlorn. He had done everything right, yet it had still gone wrong. But still, 12 weeks! He’d been observing and writing for 12 weeks! Surely it was a new record for him.

He looks at the bookshelf, filled with lost and abandoned projects. Entire worlds, left to rot, their spark of inspiration faded and snuffed out forevermore. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, of course. There was supposed to be more stories, each more grand and amazing than the last, each all interconnected in an intricate woven tapestry of fate and time.

He looks at the world he created. Grayed out, faded, dying. There was no longer a spark of life, no muse of inspiration there. The Author looks out the window at the lone, single eye watching him.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“And this is how it ends; abruptly and with a monologue. There was supposed to be a bit more to the story, you know. Ailleacht and Victor would finally meet, then next week, the Wanderer would finally arrive at the North. On December 26th, there would be a checkup on how I’m doing, and a quick “Happy New Year’s” for you.” The Author sighs heavily.

“…Yet, the best laid plans of mice and men oft gang agley.” The Author chuckles. “My favorite line of poetry. It means that everything gets messed up, eventually.”

The Author bows deeply, showing the magnitude of his respect and thanks to you, the dear reader of this short, short story.

“Thank you for sticking with me for so long, and I’m sorry I couldn’t be better at this.”

Then everything fades away as the Narrative Window closes one final time.