Sanders Sides Oneshots and Short Stories

The book consumed me.

The book consumed me.

I couldn't sleep, couldn't focus, all that mattered was Declan, all that matters was finishing the book. It seemed like every time I turned a page, the book got longer, as if it was generating more pages to write on. Declan spun long stories for me, tales of deceit and serpents and betrayal. He was a beautiful storyteller.

Patton told me he was worried about me. Said he saw me skip breakfast. Asked if I was doing okay.

I brushed him off. I was fine, wasn't I? I didn't matter. Patton didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was the book, and Declan.

I woke up early one morning, grabbed the book, and jogged to the library, tingling with anticipation for Declan's next story. The book got longer and longer, but never changed size. This wasn't odd to me.

I seated myself in the corner, clutched my pencil tightly in one hand, and opened to the next page. I devoured the words hungrily, slicing my fingers on the pages but I didn't care. It didn't matter. I was so close. So close to finishing.

And only then did I reali

In the middle of a sentence, Declan's words cut off. Just stopped. I stared at the sentence, frowning, wondering if he just forgot to add a period or something. I almost turned the page to check the end of the book. Almost.

But something caught my attention. A small, folded note tucked into the crease. Creamy white paper, new. It distracted me from the unfinished sentence. I picked up the note and unfolded it. Three elegant, triumphant words, written in sweeping cursive pen.

I got out.