"What? No! Who are you?" I yell, almost screaming in frustration.
You know who I am, Shannon. You can't kill me. No one can. And now, I can make sure that you three will never escape from my grasp.
"If you think that, then you're wrong," Alice shouts, still rather merrily despite the situation, "we're teenagers; escaping from grasps of authority is all we know."
Oh, Alice. So young, so naïve, so completely and utterly wrong. I'm no mere figure of authority; I'm what holds together the very fabric of your world.
I sigh, knowing that there's going to be a long explanation of the Storyteller's origin story and/or a description of the lifestyle of the Storyteller. It's bound to happen in this cliché-filled storyline somewhere.
You see, I am not the only Storyteller. The universe is filled with them. Young, old, male, female. There are millions. All watching, sitting behind laptops and computers, to see what to write next. Some whilst playing Flappy Bird on their phone. I think that they should stop now; they need to focus.
Anyway, my point is that they live in a land called The Clouds. Some people - truly brilliant among our kind - only have their head there. In The Clouds, there is a small window, in which to watch over the many worlds that we call Storyline. One of which is your world. As we watch over the worlds, sometimes it gets boring. That's when we, as a race, have to get involved. We control your subconscious actions, and force you into situations that will make you do something exciting.
Sometimes, we need some outside assistance, though. Very occasionally, we will have to call upon some help from your world; celebrities, Youtubers, even fictional characters are needed to really get things moving in the Storylines. That is what we call a Fan Fiction. I hate to say it, guys, but that's where you are right now.
On occasion, something will happen in one of the Storylines that totally spirals out of control. It's a very rare phenomenon that we call a Plot Twist. When this happens, it requires one of our more elite Storytellers to appear inside one of the Storylines, and try to fix what has been broken. During this time, they hide. The places are chosen very carefully in hopes that nobody will ever find them. Usually, they are little holes, or blocks, in walls or underneath floors, where the Storyteller can keep an eye on the certain Plot Twist that they have been assigned to. We call those holes the Writer's Block, because they are usually a block shape.
Between the Writer's Block and the Storyline, there is a portal between your reality and ours. It is called the Fourth Wall, and it separates us from you. Technically, it is unbreakable, but you did it. You broke the Fourth Wall. And now, you must suffer the consequences.
"I'm not afraid of you. You don't scare me with your 'other dimensions' and 'fourth wall' talk," Aiden says, immediately after the storyteller finishes.
I didn't tell you to scare you. I told you to warn you. Since the Fourth Wall has broken, and with it my chances of ever getting back to The Clouds, I have to stay here and watch over you.
"So, is that it? You're just going to stay with us forever?" I ask.
Forever? No, not forever. Eventually, you'll die. Then, I'll be stuck, wandering this Storyline until I can find someone else interesting to follow. And then they'll die, and the cycle will continue. Basically, yes. I'm stuck with you until the day that all three of you die.
"Until we die? You're not serious, right? You mean that we have to be inside Dora's stomach for the rest of our lives" Aiden growls. Being the longest resident of Dora's insides must be difficult, even for him. He's probably got a case of PTSD: Post Traumatic Stomach Disorder.
Of course not. Believe me, escape is near. In fact, it's so near that it's coming in a few seconds. Like I told you before: it's about to get poopy.
With that, the noise stops. No warning, it just vanishes altogether. I glance around the Writer's Block to see everything still perfectly in place. Alice curled up on the mattress, and Aiden leaning against a wall, as if nothing had happened. I smile at both of them reassuringly. I don't know what 'poopy' means, but it has to be better than this.
Suddenly, I feel a strange sensation, as if my body was being taken over. I feel myself jerkily moving towards a spot on the wall. As I grew closer, I saw that the spot was actually a shiny, red button. A button labelled 'Flush'.
"Oh, no," I mutter, my voice barely a whisper, "no, no, no, no, nononono..."
Without warning, I feel my hand on the button.
I push it.
Author's Note: Okay, so firstly, I'm sorry for such a wordy chapter with no action. I promise, it will get poopy in chapter three. Maybe. Also, I apologise for all of my puns in this chapter; I was feeling particularly sassy today. Finally, don't forget to comment on how weird this story is in the comments below, and follow me if you want more of my crazy shenanigans.
~NotSparta.
