Stanley stepped out of his office and started to make his way to the meeting room as he has done so many times before.
This time was different.
The voice that had constantly accompanied him was silent and doors weren't closing behind him.
Where had Narrator gone?
Why were doors acting like normal doors and not magically opening and closing?
Why could Stanley open doors that had always been locked?
Was there no longer a story?
No narrative to stick to?
Could Stanley... actually choose his own path for once?
No. Surely not. Surely this was just another bend in the storyline. Narrator must just be here, watching him in his confusion, waiting for the right moment for some grand cinematic reveal. This would end soon.
Stanley thought this as he wandered around the empty office, unnerved every time he was met with silence.
He only accepted that something was off when he saw the empty pedestal.
The Bucket.
The Reassurance Bucket.
His Reassurance Bucket.
It wasn't there.
Narrator had done some horrifically cruel things to Stanley in the past, but they wouldn't tear away the comfort Stanley got from the cold metal sides of The Bucket.
They wouldn't do that. They wouldn't. They wouldn't. They wouldn't. They wouldn't. They wouldn't. They wouldn't.
Stanley fell to his knees, tears falling, as he went from repeating the line in his mind to saying it out loud without realizing it.
Stanley... said it out loud. He could speak.
Narrator had taken that away from him when they put him into the story, they wouldn't willingly give it back... unless, of course-
No. Stanley knew it wasn't that, it would never be that.
"Narrator?" Stanley said, looking towards the ceiling. "If this is supposed to be a joke, you missed the comedic timing. I think you need to go back to that video you showed me again. This isn't funny anymore."
No response to making fun of Narrator? This was worse than he thought.
"Hello, Stanley." A floating text box read when it suddenly appeared before Stanley.
"Hi? Who are you?" Stanley questioned, extremely confused.
"I don't think we've met... well, we have, but you wouldn't recognize me like this." Text Box, as Stanley decided to call it, replied, not really answering the question. Very helpful, Mysterious Floating Text Box, that cleared things up.
"You would probably know me by name... or maybe by number? I can't be entirely sure anymore."
Number?
Employee Number?
Was Text Box one of Stanley's coworkers?
"What do you mean by Number?" Stanley asked before a door opened to his right.
YOU ARE READING
~Is the Story of No Story Still a Story?~ The Stanley Parable
FanfictionThere is no story here. No narrative or plot. No meaning or reason. How can it possibly be a story? Unless you don't need a story to have a story? Could that be it? Whatever the case, Stanley is very confused about this whole thing. I do hope he fig...
