Time-out

~ ~ ~

There, you see those three lines above? That means we have transitioned from the real world to the place where I can think, speak and all you get to do is listen.

So no moving

No speaking

Don’t

Even

Breathe.

Why? You think.

Because you have no idea what you’re doing.

I think I know exactly what I am doing.

Oh really? Do explain.

You said your hand hurts from writing, you begin, So I am going to help you write-

No you are not!

Can you stop me? You retort.

Do not tempt me.

If you could have stopped me you would have.

I have stopped you.

Not if I start doing something.

We are within the action-break. You cannot do anything but think.

.

.

.

So, what, I have to convince you to let me out of the action break?

No, because I will never let you out now

You have gone too far

You have threatened to write in my book.

I’m just trying to help! You object.

You did not begin desiring to help until long after I complained of aching hands.

Which was, by the way, hyperbole

How was I supposed to know that?

Doesn’t matter – you didn’t have your little ‘idea’

Which can be classified as a breed of insanity

Until I made myself annoying

Not

Pitiable.

So you have a different, more selfish reason.

Right?

I want to help, you insist, And if that means getting out of boredom too, I suppose I’m game. But the point is to help.

Just keep telling yourself that

Little liar.

OK, since when did you get so nasty?

Since always

I have warned before

But you would not listen

I am not inclined to listen to someone who is such a bully. You retort

Hmm, but you are inclined to read the story he is writing, aren’t you?

I am inclined to help him, you reply.

Why?

Because no matter how mean he is, there has to be something good in him.

Some people are just plain evil, you know

.

.

.

Not you. you murmur. You pretend, but you’re not. And if I let you just keep telling the story like you have been, nothing good will happen for either of us.

And a lot of good will happen if you just

Close

The

Book

You don’t know that.

Ah, but I do

I have CENTURIES more experience than you, young pup

You haven’t a clue.

That’s OK, you think, I don’t have to know everything to know what’s right.

What’s right?

What’s right?!

Since when did this become a question of what’s right?

Since you gave me a choice to prove that I care!

You care about yourself.

Who doesn’t? At least I also care about you too.

Are you saying I care for none but myself?

Do you deny it?

.

.

.

Yes.

I deny it.

In fact, here’s my proof:

If you will promise not to write in this book, I will personally come to meet you in your room within the next five minutes, and we can talk.

Just like you wanted

And I will not dodge

I will not leave for half-an-hour

And you can get the answers you seek.

.

.

.

I don’t trust you, you think.

Trust is not important.

I am giving you a bargain you can not refuse.

So don’t!

Just take it!

How does this prove that you care about me? You retort.

Because I know what will happen if you write in this book

And I know that once you do it, there is no turning back.

What will happen? You ask.

I can’t tell you.

Or you won’t, you snort.

No, this is one of those rules.

I can’t tell you anything about this – about me, or what I do

Just like I can’t stop writing

Just like I cannot force you to close this book

. . .

No matter how much I want to.

Yes, that I’ve noticed, you think wryly.

Do you admit that I know more about this than you?

I admit it, you reply, But I also know that you are hiding something

Not by choice

If you could tell me, would you?

Tell you what?

Why you want me to stop reading.

No, I would not tell you that.

Why?

Long story

I have time

I can’t.

OK, then would you tell me why I shouldn’t write in your book?

Why I shouldn’t try to help?

How does writing in my book count as helping?

You’re dodging the question

So are you

.

.

.

Alright, it counts as helping because, as I said before, nothing good is going to happen the way you’re writing it.

So, in essence, you think you could write this story better?

Not better, you think slowly, Just with more purpose

Still means better

Not quite. Now it’s your turn

My turn?

To answer my question

Which would that be again?

William, I am not playing this game anymore

Oh, but you see, I am the rule-maker.

So what I say goes

And if I say you have to play

Then you must.

The only way to escape it is-

To close the book, you finish.

Precisely.

So feel free to do so

Any

Time.

.

.

.

Answer my question.

I don’t have to.

Yes you do.

Do not.

~ ~ ~

You blink.

~ ~ ~

You may not do that!

Yes I may! I am my own person.

~ ~ ~

You lower the pen a fraction of an inch closer to the white page.

~ ~ ~

Alright! I’ll answer your **** question!

Watch it.

The author grinds his teeth.

Yes, I would tell you why you must not write

But I do not think it would change your mind.

Do you mean that if you told me, I would probably want to even more?

Very possibly.

Because that is what all of you

Young,

Idiotic,

Feather-brained,

Fools do.

You are not getting any trust points here. You think.

I don’t recall wanting any?

If I trusted you, I might listen! But all I know about you is that you are a liar, a dirt-mouth, a manipulator, and a coward.

Makes one wonder why you want to help me.

Because that’s not all you are.

Oh? And why do you say that?

Because you could have killed me, you think softly, Any time, you could have stopped me, but you haven’t.

What if that’s one of the rules?

Is it?

.

.

.

No.

So you could have killed me?

I am not a murderer.

Which is why I want to help you.

You must not write in this book.

I can’t say why!

But don’t.

I am being sincere, now.

How am I supposed to know that?

Because I say so.

You’ve lied before.

I’m not now.

How am I even supposed to know that what you want is what’s best?

How can you know that what you want is what’s best?!

I know that I’m not giving up on life, and that I have hope.

Yes, I have hope

I have hope that you will Close. This. Book.

Why not just do it?

In fact – why not destroy it while you’re at it?!

Wait – if I destroyed this book, what would that do to you?

I can’t say.

But I can tell you that it would make me very happy.

Just like closing the book?

Yes.

.

.

.

Wait, you think, If I destroyed this book, you’d die wouldn’t you?

I cannot answer that question.

Which means yes.

Which means

I

Can’t

Answer!

Why must you always read in to simple statements?

You’ve given up, you think, You don’t even want to live anymore.

.

.

.

I do not.

It’s not going to end this way, you think.

Why not? Don’t you want me to be happy?

I want you to be well! Safe!

From myself?

Yes.

It’s too late for that.

It was too late centuries ago.

It’s never too late.

You can’t prove that.

.

.

.

Actually, I can.