The Trouble With The Unwritten

Every story knows when it's supposed to begin. Every story knows when it's supposed to end.

But this one?

This one was interrupted.

Long before the first ticket should've been torn, before the proper players could take their places beneath the lights, something wandered into the performance--something that had never been written there at all.

Stories are such delicate little things, aren't they?

Pull one thread loose and suddenly everything starts slipping. Roles change. Doors appear where there ought to be walls. Those meant to stay backstage find themselves wandering beneath the lights, while those written into cages start entertaining the rather tempting idea that locks were made to be opened.

And wouldn't you know it?

The curtain is already stirring.

With every misplaced player, every opened door, every cut string, the performance becomes just a little less familiar.

By the time the lights finally rise on the story everyone remembers, perhaps there won't be much of the original script left at all.

Such is the trouble with the Unwritten. They never do stay where you put them.

But once the curtain falls, darling, what's done is done.

This story does not keep spare endings.

After all, every proper performance deserves consequences.

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All credits goes to NekoBueno as they own The Freak Circus, I just own whatever else.