𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚕𝚎𝚢 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 [𝙽𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚡 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚕𝚎𝚢]

15 - Narrator

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THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END

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They wanted to keep it here for 6 to 8 weeks. SIX TO EIGHT WEEKS. For a single bloody fractured bone?! No! It had to find Stanley! What soured the mood more is the fact they insisted on giving it a plethora of tests to try and figure out where its memory had gone or why it doesn't have a normal name. It had its memory and was perfectly fine, thank you very much.

All the forms and reports gave it the name "John Doe", which when asked about turned out to be a name people are given when they can't find the identity of a person. Can't they just... make an identity for it? Preferably one where it gets to keep its name?

It was getting restless. It needed to do something. It needed to find Stanley. The nurses were of no help, considering he didn't know Stanley's surname and didn't even know if the story about him being employee 427 was true.

If it's being honest, the only thing keeping it from going crazy is the notebook they'd given it, where it was able to write its stories. He wrote mostly about Stanley; it's always written about him. He wrote about The Parable; it was a lot harder to make it make sense in book format than video game format. The experience was truly much different than he was used to, but the words flowing on the page helped to make sense of the terrors it and Stanley had experienced.

The nurses and doctors loved its work, as well. It had allowed them to look through the notebook from time to time; there was nothing to hide or anything. Its favorite nurse, whose name it'd learned is Harmony Smith, told it how they all discussed the tale in the break rooms and waited eagerly for the story to continue.

This encouraged it to keep writing. Once it finished detailing its time in the parable, which took up about four of the weeks, it moved on to more stories. Upon Smith's suggestion, it wrote a tale about an astronaut who fell in love with a pirate when the astronaut was accidentally sent back in time via a wormhole. The story-

Hm. It was rambling, wasn't it?

Well, they'd reached the six-week mark of The Narrator's stay. And while its fractured tibia hadn't fully healed, it was time to start thinking about... what comes next. What it was supposed to do after it got out of the building. It had no connections, no home, no... anything. It supposed it would be... tossed to the streets.

It expressed the fear to Smith. Smith was uncertain what would happen, but she had... far too much faith that it would work out. Not that it didn't trust her judgment... but it did not trust her judgment.

"I wish you could just... forge a birth certificate for me." It had joked.

The woman went quiet.

"You... can't, can you?" It asked, more seriously.

She ran a hand through her dark locs. "I mean... legally no." She pursed her lips.

"...Don't do crimes, please." It said, furrowing its brow.

"How old do you think you are again?" She said, ignoring The Narrator.

"I'm not answering that." It said, crossing its arms.

"Alright, 48 it is." She mused, giving a mischievous smirk.

"...Do I at least get to pick the name?" It asked, pinching the bridge of its nose.

"So long as it's a normal, human name. 'Narrator' on a birth certificate would raise some eyebrows." She answered, moving her hands around animatedly.

"Fine. Let's go with... Neil. Neil... erm... What's a good surname?" It asked, turning back to Smith.

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THE END IS THE END IS THE END IS THE END

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This is where it ends. Thank you to all who have been so patient with me. The author worked hard on this story and I'm sure they'd appreciate the support given. Thank you for reading the story     -Mr.Fletcher