The author is dying. That's all we know. Everything we've ever known is falling apart. But we know how to save the author. Only we can save the author. By we, I mean every story that the author has ever told. Every story and every person in those stories all have to come together and work together so we can all stay alive. Otherwise we're all just a fictional character on a piece of paper, or some even... not alive. Some not even real anywhere but the author's mind. There's so few of those anyway. But the weird thing is... we're all existing outside of the author's head. I dont know how, but we're all in different places. Half of my own crew I found in the hospital came out of closets and restricted areas and even bathrooms (some even with people in the stalls...) We shouldn't be alive, but we are. And we have to save the author, in order to stay alive. For the author's family. For the author's readers. For our own sake of existence.
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