Of All The Stories I've Written, I Share With You, Stranger, These Few

Please, I Don't

Please do not kill me.
I can see you there
with your pencil hovering over my paper.
I know that I should die,
to progress the story,
so that the hero will win against the villain.
I know that I should die.
I know that I have to die.
But I do not want to die.
Please don't kill me.
Please.
You wrote my story so many years ago,
with my beautiful wife and three incredible daughters.
I love them so much.
Do you plan to write their grief?
Do you plan to tell your readers that my girls will grow up without a father?
Please don't.
The readers don't need to experience such grief.
There should be no tears on my final page.
Please don't kill me.
Please.
You say to your fans
that I am your favorite character.
My handsome features.
My beloved humor.
My love.
Are you jealous of my wife and I's love?
Is that why you must kill me?
To appease your empty heart?
How cruel.
How will the readers cope
with the hole you create in their hearts
as they read my final words?
Will you be there to dry their tears?
You and I both know
that you will only be plotting the additions
of your next installment to the story I have yet to leave.
Please don't kill me.
Please.
I don't want to go.
I'm scared.
Please.
I don't wa