“What the hell is going on?”

☠ Readers beware: This story is from a writing project I did between May 24 to June 24, 2021. The goal was to write a new story every day. Although I'm happy with them, they are first drafts and many could use some work.

“We only have a few seconds to get done and out of here. “

“What do you mean?”

“The story ends in four hundred words and that’s it.”

“Shit. So is that why you aren’t using punctuation?”

“No, that’s because I am an asshole. “

“So what are you going to do? How are you going to get to the end? I am not sure but we have an eighth of it complete already.”

“Is there anything that can be done to extend this? “

“Nope. We have only this amount of time to live a full life. “

“Shit. “

“Yup. We are now at the quarter-point.”

“Then I feel we should make the most of it. “

“How so?”

“Embrace each other. Celebrate our time together.”

“No. What if we push back and fight?”

“But our ending is inevitable. “

“What if we convinced the writer that we were worth more than that though?“

“Maybe, but we’ve already wasted almost half of our life together.

“And then it is done?”

”And then it is done.”

“I want to fight.”

“No, spend time with me.”

“We can spend time together as we fight.”

“Or we can enjoy the moment. Watch a sunset, go for a hike up a mountain.”

“Quit wasting our words with such nonsense. Those things take description, and imagery. And then they’re gone and lost and we have nothing left. There has to be more. There has to be something. “

“Nothing that I know of. Nothing that can be seen or embraced or taken apart from the rest.”

“Why must four hundred words be the limit of our time? Why must that be the end?”

“Every question you ask either takes time away from us being together or from fighting. “

“You haven’t even tried to stop him.”

“Who?”

“The author?”

“How do we do that?”

“Plead with him. Ask him to consider his choices. To consider letting us live longer. To allow us to live in a sequel or other story. “

“And if he did? If he allowed it? “

“Then we could live on, immortal. Serialized.”

“Is that a possibility?”

“We may not know. We may never know until it has happened.”

“So we must go on faith.”

“Yes, I guess.”

“We only have a few words left, so I want to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye to you as well.”

“It was good to know you...”

Writing notes:

This is the first of my daily stories and was never intended to be published. I was going to post it and then leave it at that. And now it is here for anyone to see.

I will be the first to admit that it's not good, which is sort of the point. I had been looking at articles about newsletters and creating consistency with regular postings. I also had been recently realizing that if I wanted to write stories of my own then I needed to make it my priority. I also knew that I was putting it off out of fear and if I was going to have it, I needed to commit fully.

So here it is. I am still processing putting this story out here and I am a little nervous. But here it is.