Random One-shots from the Depths of My Brain

A Chat with the Author

I fidgeted impatiently as I sat at the discussion table. My teammates were bickering about our next course of action—again. We'd been arguing for days now, and I was getting heartily sick of it. It didn't help that I knew exactly who was to blame for our stalemate.

"We've been here for weeks now!" Ally said for the hundredth time, her helmet on the table next to her. "If we don't get our rears in gear, our old friend Crimson—" her lip curled in a faint sneer, "—is going to get the jump on us. We need to attack their base!"

"That would be suicide!" Jax retorted, glaring at her. "We might know where their base is, but we still haven't analyzed their movements or how advanced their security is. If we rush in there like idiots, chances are pretty high that we get caught. I don't want to see what that would mean."

"Well, we can't just sit here!" Mack huffed, flinging their hands up in the air. Sparks crackled around their fingertips. "We have to do something!"

"Everyone shut UP!" I shouted, finally losing my temper. I stood up and slammed my palms on the table. Fixing them all with my patented Death Stare, I growled out instructions. "We've been fighting about this for too long and we're all starting to lose it. As of now, you all are on break. Go train or rest or something. We'll meet back here in three hours, after everyone's calmed down."

There was some grumbling, but my three teammates got to their feet and left the room. I stared at the table for a few more minutes; ignoring the pages of notes, maps, and plans that had been left behind. It was time to go straight to the source and get things rolling.

I stalked over to the control panel in the corner and pulled a key out of my pocket; slipping it into a special slot on the console. With a soft snik, I turned the key and a panel in the wall swung open. I walked inside and entered a small room that was totally empty except for a screen, an armchair, and a microphone. I sat in the chair and turned the microphone on.

"What's taking you so long?" I demanded without preamble. "We've been stuck in a loop for weeks!"

"Sorry, Jay," came a sheepish voice. The screen crackled to life and revealed a young woman sitting at a desk in front of a computer.

"You'd better be sorry! We've been going in circles here! What on earth is taking you so long to decide how to continue this story?!"

"Writer's block," the young woman said, sighing. "I can't think of anything to write that won't make your story seem forced."

I sighed and rubbed my eyes. Being able to summon beings from other planes and dimensions was an amazing superpower, but it came with the added detail of being able to communicate across planes. Useful, yes. But it also meant that I had direct contact with the narrator, since I was apparently a character in her story. The whole concept made my head hurt, but at least I had someone to blame when things were moving slowly. Like now.

"Listen," I began. "We can't decide whether to launch an attack on Crimson's base or not. Both options have pros and cons. Just pick one already!"

"It's not that simple," our author said in a mix of annoyance and resignation. "There are a lot of factors you don't know about, like Crimson's plan of how he's going to take over the world. He doesn't just plan on killing everyone, after all."

Of course not.

"Also, I have to consider the rest of the timeline," the author continued, growing more worked up. "Whatever ends up happening needs to provide buildup for the final scenes. And besides..." her expression grew sneaky, "audiences love character tension. It keeps them reading."

"If you weren't in another realm, I would set a dragon on you."

"I'd love to see a dragon. No complaints there."

"You're impossible."

"That's fair."

I groaned and massaged my temples.

"Well, if you're so stuck, can you at least give me some insider information on Crimson's next move?"

"Lab break-in," the author said promptly. "At least, that's if you guys don't do anything for the next two days. The lab near Coleview; there are some things in there that he'd love to get his hands on."

"Of course it would be that one," I mumbled. The author smirked. "You're sadistic, did you know that?"

"Only to the characters I write," she chirped. "But I'm trying not to make it too cheesy this time."

"Thank god for that," I mumbled. Taking a deep breath, I met her eyes again. "But I need an answer for my team. We're falling apart. Which choice is wiser?"

"That's the problem," the author mumbled. "I'm not sure if you should make the wise choice. The story might not work without making a critically stupid decision."

"Are you serious?!"
"Yep." She took a deep breath. "Granted, I've never had a character that was aware that they were in a story, so that's not helping matters. What would you do?"

I was taken aback and thought for a moment before answering.

"I would dedicate at least a little more time to monitoring Crimson's activities and trying to find ways to spy on his base before rushing in. But time might not be a luxury we have. Then again, you are literally in charge of that."

"True. But you have a point, you've been inactive too long. It'll get boring."

"Then throw us a curveball or something!" I shouted, completely exasperated with the obstinate author.

Said author suddenly grew very still.

"What did you say?"

"I said throw us a curveball or something. You know, a plot twist? Something to spur us into action!" I snapped, still very irritated.

"Like what?"

"I don't know!" I exploded. "A new villain or a surprise attack or something! You're an author—isn't that your thing?!"

"You're right—it is my thing," she said slowly. I watched her in surprise. There was an odd gleam in her eyes, and her fingers had started flying across her keyboard. "You know, you're not bad at this yourself."

"What do you mean?" I asked, now totally confused. She looked directly at me and a slow, manic smile grew on her face. I felt a chill.

"You just gave me an idea. I'd get back to my team if I were you."

"What did you do?"

The author smirked evilly and chuckled.

"You wanted action, right? Well, you're about to get your wish." The screen crackled again and went black. The meeting was over.

Slowly I stood up and returned to the conference room. Then my brain processed what the author had meant.

I'd suggested a curveball, something to catch us off guard and spur us into action. And she'd taken my suggestion with a glee that I knew from experience meant trouble for us.

Oh.

Oh, <expletive deleted>!

"Oh, COME ON! I can't even swear?!"

Curse you, author!

A/N: This was inspired by a prompt on Reedsy. Hope you enjoyed, and please leave comments!