L+-+Canceled+Summer+Story

If other kids my age make stories, why shouldn’t I? Besides several obvious reasons, that is.

“Oh, what to write? Fantasy? No. Something based off people I know? Definitely not. Something about me? That’s scary. Hmmm… Why am I even doing this in the first place?” He looked down at his blank screen. He grabbed his warm mug and took a sip of coffee. It was a bit too sweet, which was just right. He glanced at the TV screen. It was on some channel that was probably something the Watchers would approve of. Its blaring noise deterred the Watchers, and disguised the clack of his keyboard. “So that’s it, isn’t it?” He wondered aloud. “A fiction? Bah, what do you want Luke? You’re writing the damn thing. What is this? Let’s see, a science fiction, probably. Corrupt government is the ‘Watchers’, right? And creativity is disapproved, repressed? So, it’s a corrupt science fiction world. I’m supposed to survive the Watchers, aren’t I? And… make a rebellion? We always rebel against the supremacy... But we want something more sophisticated, don’t we? Something that will make your peers think?” “Perhaps…” “Luke, what am I?” “A manifestation of something I’ve repressed, no doubt.” “Or perhaps a reality you’ve based off your own? By my own flaws, I’m fairly certain I’m a version of you.” “Oh, definitely.” “If you’re going to share this with your peers, write the damn story already and stop talking about us.” Suddenly, the man gasped as a glowing key appeared in the air in front of him. “Pick it up, Kyle.” “What //is// it? “A key” “Obviously…” Kyle grabbed it. “Now what, Luke?” “Whatever you want. This is the key to your story.” “Why is my key a light, black chunk of crystal that glows ominously purple? “You know why” “So you’re leaving it up to ME to kill myself?” “Yep.” “You’re the writer, you do it.” “Hmm, perhaps… //or//…” Suddenly ,the key turned into a vibrant, white material with a golden aura around it. “So what now?” “I’ve made your key a source of creation for your story. There are three primary keys in the story that you will know about. The key of destruction, of time, and of creation that you have.” “So what’s the //point// of this?” “I don’t know, figure it out. You’re going to write your own story.” “Oh great…” “One more thing, //no romance//. Seriously. And feel free to kill yourself. Toodles!” The cold apartment blew apart, and all that surrounded Kyle was light. //This is the Ethereal Plane//, Kyle thought to himself. He waved the key, and a city appeared. It was built around a massive school. “Oh God, not in this story you won’t.” He deconstructed the city and created a massive tower. “Power, that’s nice, but probably not.” He deconstructed the tower, and built a grassy meadow. Far off were deep grey mountains with snowy peaks. Birds chirped from the forest, and a nearby river gurgled into a lake. “This is nice, but Luke said no romance.” Just as the floating materials started to form the shape of a girl, he waved it away. A door appeared, and he unlocked it with his key. He stepped inside to find an icy, barren wasteland. The plains of despair and lost dreams. Kicking, screaming, even crying little bits of him were being dragged in to the Void, a massive pit in the center of the wasteland. Somewhere near the bottom was the Core, which was inaccessible and hidden. Far above was a massive iron latticework supporting a massive wooden façade, which practically glowed with a cheerful light. Ah, the Social Façade… //Oh, fudge. I’m focusing on myself, which is definitely not good.// He went back out into the Ethereal Plane and locked the door, upon which is faded into nothing. All around him was pure white. Swirling around his key were raw mental materials. “AGGHHHH,” he cried out, as a portion of him was ripped away. “Gah, you’re feeding Dark Side too much, with all this repressed crap you’re sticking the Void.” “Perhaps, but it works well.” “It worked well until you met that girl.” “Shut up. It was a good run for 8+ years, wasn’t it?” “Yeah, but crucial mental walls collapsed, Dark Side manifested itself into something wholly individual, and we’ve become attached to things again.” “And by things, you mean…” “Don’t mention her name. That’s the last thing we want to do.” “So what now, we obviously can’t give this to one of our peers, a teacher, and it would be resentful to give it to a contact, even trusted.” “Why are we even doing this?” “Because we can.” “We’ll never know everything, and even if we did, we’d never be able to understand it.” “What’s so wrong with knowing everything?” “Let’s focus on simpler things, like tesseracts?” “A cube in a cube, basically.” “Let’s end this, for now.” “Sure. We’re hardly getting anywhere anyway…”