Whispers || One-Shot Stories

The Writer's Cage

"Do you know how it feels to be a character being manipulated?" a faceless voice that came from the darkness whispered.

I drop my pen and looked around my room in horror, to see who it was, but there was no one.

I stood up and walked backwards.

When I glanced at the side of the room I saw a figure of a woman.

I took the pen on my desk, which is only the nearest tool that I could use in this type of situations and point it at her.

I saw how the woman slowly walked towards me as she soundly smirked, "Miss me?"

My eyes widen after recognizing the voice.

T-that can't be.

I shook my head.

Impossible.

"W-who are you!? What are you doing here!? I don't have any money. I don't have things worth taking for."

"Of course you have. Don't you remember me...mother?" My whole existence dropped at the core of the earth when I finally confirmed who it was. I continuously shook my head.

"N-no, n-no, this can't be. This isn't happening. H-how?" Instead of answering, she walked towards my desk.

She smiled when she noticed the blank page of the paper, "What's wrong mother? Can't find the right words to write?"

I just stood there, speechless. Still can't process everything. My heart is racing in so much horror and my body seems like to be freezing to death. She just looked at me, enjoying my reaction.

"What happened to the writer? Does the words left you that's why you can't write? Or is it because you abandoned them that's why you can't find them?"

I shook my head. "C-clara," I uttered.

"That was not my intention," I added and cried. I don't know how this happened but I've got the urge to apologize.

"You've made me a villain. A traitor. A rascal. You've made my life a living hell. "I saw how her tears raced down her cheeks.

"When in fact, I'm just an Innocent angel. Just manipulated by a scalawag scribbler." she added, giving me a death glare.

I shook my head, "You're just my character, my own creation, just a part of my imagination." her eyes darkened the moment I said that.

Clara, the character I created. I remember how I first created her because the main character in my story was in a difficult situation. I had to create an extra. Someone miserable in order to add juice to my book.

"Yes, you gave life to me. You created me. But yet manipulated and controlled me." she flinched in anger.

"That's how it should be. That's how your role works. The characters made never disobey their creators."

Clara smirked. "Not anymore. Now that I'm free from the cage of pages and inks."

She moved closer to me and touched my jaw.

"It's my time to return the favor. Don't you think, my dear creator?" she said then I saw how her sweet smile turned to a devilish smirk.

I stood there dumbfounded when I saw myself slowly being taken by the book.

Eventually the surroundings changed.

I just found myself in a world of inks and paper. Where I live the life of the character that was once just part of my mind, controlled by the character I created.