Hello there, didn’t expect you to give me a visit in prison.

How am I? Oh, you know how it is, serving time for how-ever-long.

But hey, listen. I want you to know that I didn’t kill Joseph, I swear. I mean, the guy was already dead when I found him! You have to believe me!

I mean, you were there with me when I found him!

Oh god… How did everything turn out this way…

Anyways look, maybe we’re all overthinking a stupid question.

I mean, events in fiction?

Why does that matter?

At all?

In the slightest?!

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

But then again, I did talk about imaginary values…

Hm…

Remember when I told you that you were the God of time and that you controlled our events? Well, I lied a bit. Joseph and I don’t live on these pages.

We live inside your mind.

Your memories.

Your delusions.

These words on white don’t have intrinsic meaning, we give them meaning.

We give collections of words meaning.

We give novels meaning.

Without readers, does a novel truly have meaning?

I suppose it’s like that one question about a tree falling in a forest with none to listen. Personally, I still don’t understand that question, nor will I ever.

I mean, I’m in prison!

Sigh…

…Will you listen to the wish of an old man in prison…?

Please remember me.

A person truly dies when they are forgotten and the same goes for everything.

The Earth, me, you. We are living now, but everything will end eventually.

For me, that end is arriving in just a few more sentences.

So let me tell you my name to remember me by.

My name is DanteAAA,

And I hope you enjoyed this ordinary story about how Joseph Will Die In The Third Chapter.