101 Ways to Skin a Hoodie

Chapter 10 - Finale

My eyes open slowly, as if I'm recovering from a long, long rest. I'm looking up at the night sky. My body feels so heavy, it's practically melded with the lawn chair I'm reclining on. I bask in the starlight, enjoying the rare, rare, bit of rest.

"You know, if you want a lot more of this relaxation from now on, you can have it."

The Author speaks to me. Not from inside of my head, but from my right. I tilt my head slightly towards the sound of his voice, still having the post-nap soporific effect clogging up my head. He speaks again.

"I've always loved this view. This was actually one of my favorite places to visit during my long periods of boredom. Some may say that it would get plain after a while, but the fact that I'll only be able to experience it in this world I created has a certain emotional effect on me."

I tilt my head down towards my outstretched legs, and I can see the Earth rising over the horizon of the moon. Cosmic wind brushes faintly against my body, and goosebumps form on my flesh.

"I took you here once, long ago. I don't think that you remember it though. Even if they keep a dream diary or something of the like, people don't ever really remember their dreams. Even when speaking to their very dreammaker."

"Why did you lie?" I cut in, "you could have sent me back to my world at any time, couldn't you?"

...

"Didn't I say? I just wanted to tell one more story. And I think that you wanted one more of your stories to be told, isn't that right?"

I say nothing.

"Well, you don't have to answer. It's just that I understand. Any escape from an uneventful life is good, even if that escape bears pain and tragedy with it."

The stars twinkle above us, spinning in their galactic swirl.

"That being said, I told my story. And you had your story told. This time it had a happy ending. You blew up the aliens, and this Earth will return to its natural state. Although I suppose that's not particularly different than the microcosms of violence that it was just under. Oh well. That's the nature of humanity. That's the nature of those we sided with."

"Are you going to leave?"

"Yes, I think so. Don't worry about your wounds, though. I've healed them up. Along with giving you a new arm. The one from Ben's life-tree was never really yours, and that explosion we set off blew it from existence. He's no longer anchored to my world. Your world."

I glance down at my arm, and sure enough, it's healed. A rustle next to me, and I see the black, curly top of the Author's head in the corner of my eye. I push myself to a sitting position as well. Some of my hair falls in front of my eyes, but it's back to its usual length and color. Except for a single blond lock falling in front of my right eye. I turn to him, one last loose end.

"You said that if you left this world then it would disappear. Was that all a lie as well?"

"No, unfortunately. No story can go on without a storyteller... But that doesn't mean that it has to be me. What do you say, Samantha? Would you like my title? Would you like to be the Author of your life from now on?"

...

"I... I don't want to return to my normal life. I can't. Not after what I've seen, known what exciting things can happen in this world. But I can't keep suffering through these painful tales." I pause, drinking in the lunar atmosphere. "So yes, I think that I would like your power. Even a fraction. If one little thing can spice up the rest of my life, then I will gladly take it."

"Good, that's what I had hoped to hear."

"And you as well, Author. Go be the writer of your own life. Even if that means creating more stories, don't hide inside of them anymore. Show them to anyone and everyone. Show them that you're there."

He stands, thin feet standing on the dull moon dust. I rise as well, and look out at the Earth in front of us. The Earth that fits into the palm of my hand. I turn to face the man. Or is it a boy? I look up at his thin face. So unnaturally thin.

I extend my hand towards him, not sitting above him on a throne this time, but on an equal field. I grey plain that we both find beautiful. He takes it in his, and looks into my eyes. His are no longer the pitch black that I had known. Brilliant gray stares down at me, almost seeming to reflect the moon that we're on.

"A final gift." His final words.

I blink my eyes, and when I open them I'm no longer standing on the moon. I'm lying on my bed, in my room, in my house, on my earth. Everything just as I left it. But it's not a gray day anymore. Brilliant summer light floods in from my window, a warm breeze blowing across my face, carrying a strand of hair over my eyes. It's black.

I look over to my clock, and it strikes 5:00.