Author vs. Protagonist

Writing prompts are great opportunities to exercise creative writing ability. The prompt consists a few sentences that describe a central scenario for a story. The writer then both creates a story based on the scenario and writes an excerpt from that story. Generally, the writer will write at least one scene from said story. However, it’s totally possible that the writer could write the entire story, if so dedicated.

Today’s writing prompt is described as follows: As an author you’re the ultimate god of your world. Your hero became powerful enough to step into reality. He then asks you to explain why an omnipotent being would permit so much evil in the world, not realizing that you placed all the evil there to spice up the story.

I hope you enjoy my story take on the writing prompt. Leave your questions, comments and feedback below!

Without further ado, enjoy “Author vs. Protagonist”.

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“Where am I?” the Hero questioned. “What is this place?”

I stood there, dumbfounded. This couldn’t be real. I must be dreaming.

“Who are you?” came further query.

“Just who the hell are you?!” I finally replied. “You’re in my home!”

“So you live here?”

“That’s what I said. And why are you dressed like my main character?”

“I am dressed like no character.”

“If this is a joke, then it’s not funny.”

“This is no joke. I am here to save my people.”

“You’ve come to my home office to save your people, huh?”

“Why does this place look like a regular home. I should be beyond The Extent.”

“Very funny. I’ll take it my wife put you up to this. She’s the only one who’s seen the notes for my latest book.”

“The Extent is not in any book. It is the space beyond known space.”

“Yeah, I know what it is, Einstein. I created that specific incarnation of the concept for my book. I only shared that detail with my wife. At least I know who put you up to this.”

“I wasn’t put up to anything by anyone. I’m on an important mission. I don’t have time for your paranoia. Why does the space beyond space look like a home? I need to find the source of the anamoly.”

“Okay, I’ll play along. What anamoly?”

“Researchers in my universe found a source of energy that was manipulating reality. This energy was tracked and found to be coming from outside known space.”

“Okay, so why aren’t you in the Extent?”

“I said I should be beyond The Extent. That space can be used as a waypoint between worlds. The energy we were tracking was found to be coming from a metaphysical space beyond even The Extent. We imagined we’d find what many spiritual disciplines refer to as their respective creators.”

“And all you found was my office. Good job.”

“No. I’m on the right track or I’m close. A device was created to detect the energy signature and trace it to its source. This is that place.”

“Wow. You even nailed The Intellect’s design patterns from my descriptions,” I said pointing toward the device the Hero mentioned.

“You know of my colleague?”

“Of course I do. I created him. I created all of you.”

“So you are one of the Puppeteers, then?”

“Uh, yeah… I’m the writer of the stories that you’re parodying, right now.”

“This is no story. I am real. My world is real. What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about, ‘I’m the author of the books’. You’re some actor hired to play a joke on me. Now this has been fun, but your act has worn it’s welcome. I need to get back to work. And you need to get back to whatever it is that you do.”

“I’m not going anywhere until I have an audience with the Puppeteers. I need to know how they manipulate reality. We need that power to save our world.”

“Okay, this has gone on far enough, “ I said as I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. “I’m calling the authorities.”

“I’m generally a patient man, but you’re pushing me with the gaslighting. If you think I’m some sort of fraud, then let me prove it to you.”

The Hero levitated into the air, held out his hand, and released a flash of light toward my phone. It disintegrated without harming my appendage. I froze for a second; then dove behind my desk. I grabbed for the gun that I kept in a strap secured to the desk’s underside. I rose from cover and aimed.

“The energy signature is coming from this,” Hero said as he held out the latest draft of my novel series. “Explain.”

“You can’t be real,” I exhaled; gun shaking as it rested in my trembling grip. “This must be a dream. A nightmare.”

“I assure you this is all too real,” he floated closer and hovered over me; his feet hovered an inch or so from the top of the desk. He looked down at me with fury.

“This would be useless then,” I admitted, motioning with the firearm.

“Exceedingly so.”

“But that would also mean that you won’t harm me if I’m not the aggressor. I wrote you that way.”

“Unless…,” he paused, grabbed the gun and folded it like a child playing with clay. “…I thought you were trying to destroy my universe, of course.”

“Not destroying. Reshaping.”

“If the current course continues in my universe, then the evils that continue to sprout up will overwhelm myself and my compatriots. We’ll be subjugated, murdered or witness to the extinguishing of all life. All the related events of chaos have but one common thread: the energy signature that emanates from this book… and… from you.”

“From me?!”

“Whatever energy this book is carrying is not born of it. The book appears to be a conduit of some kind. It’s funneling the energy through the Extent and into my universe. It is originating from you.”

“I have no such power! If I did, then would I pull a gun on you?!”

“I imagine you are some kind of wizard. Yes, a wizard like Bertrand Mangle – the maniac who got two members of my team killed when he tried to resurrect a demon that had been imprisoned for five thousand years. Obviously you are much more powerful. You live outside the Extent and you’ve fashioned an illusion that even my senses cannot detect – even on the slightest level.”

“Yes, you were able to see partially through Bertrand’s illusions. Every illusion has a flaw by definition since it is not real. Have you considered that this is not an illusion?”

“I’m supposed to believe that a being with the power to reshape reality in other universes lives in a regular home that I would see on my Earth, writes books and needs to call the police? As you said, every illusion has a flaw, by definition.”

He grabbed me by the collar and elevated us both up several feet until we were nearly at the apex of the vaulted ceiling I had built in my office.

“If you truly are just a human male, then you would not want to fall from this height,” he threatened.

“So you would kill me without proof of my intent?!” I argued.

“I can’t let you destroy everything I’ve fought and sacrificed to protect.”

He dropped me.

I panicked.

I freaked the hell out.

In the moments during the fall, all I could think of was that I wished I had powers greater than Bertrand’s. I thought that if this was a bad dream, then why couldn’t my subconscious have written in a dream sequence in which I was more powerful than Bertrand?

“I knew it!” Hero gloated.

I hadn’t hit the ground. Hadn’t shattered a limb or two.

“What the fuck….?” I mouthed to myself in a low tone.

I looked up at Hero. He wore rage on his face.

I looked down to a few feet of air between my shoes and the floor.

Hero flew toward me with purpose. I acted instinctively. I imagined the barrier I wrote in for Bertrand. It was strong enough to hold back Hero and a few others who are nearly as powerful as he is. And it appeared.

“This can’t stop me anymore,” he announced, ramming into the force field.

He was right. His initial punch sent cracks through the barricade. I had to think fast. He must be unimaginably powerful by now if he was able to breach the Extent. Hell, he stepped out of a goddam story and into real life! His barrage of punches continued, chiming the clock on my demise. And then it hit me just as his last punch sent him both through the barrier and sent him careening at me.

“That’s enough of that,” I said, palming his fist.

Hero wore a look of shock.

“Don’t be so surprised,” I flaunted. “I think I have this figured out. And I’m ready to talk.”

Hero held up his hands in the motion he uses when preparing to discharge an energy wave. Nothing happened.

“That’s not going to work,” I warned.

“Another illusion.”

“Hardly. I stripped your powers.”

“…”

“Look, I’m not going to harm you. And I’m not trying to harm anyone you know. Just in case this isn’t a dream – and I’m not completely convinced it isn’t – I’ll humor you and hear your story.”

“How did you…?”

“Remove your powers? Easy. I just wrote the story in my mind. I know how to lucid dream. I just rewrote the reality of this story since it’s happening in my dream – in my head.”

“So, you are one of the Puppeteers.”

“Based on what you’re describing, I’m the only one. I’m guessing the world I’ve written into my stories has come true. You’re not supposed to be real. You and everyone you know – both friend and foe – are figments of my imagination. You were written to the page for entertainment.”

“You mean to tell me that you created our universe and subjected us to untold strife for the entertainment of you and your kind?!”

“I didn’t create you as real beings. You have authors in your world. Think about it. Do you remember the comic book case Kelvin Loring reported to your team?”

“Kelvin? The mage? Yes. Some kid’s comic characters came out of the book and… Oh…”

“Yeah. Same thing here. That kid was writing characters that didn’t exist. In Kelvin’s case report, he stated no known form of magic created that instance. It was an unexpected event. While he suspects some ethereal forces are involved, he hasn’t figured it out yet.”

“Yeah, but that was probably you.”

“True. I did write that into your world. But extrapolate the context to my world. I don’t know how I came to have this ability. The fantastic events that surround your life and the lives of those you have come to know are thought impossible in my world. And now here you are standing in my office.”

“But that kid didn’t exhibit abilities.”

“That’s not the point. The point is that the supernatural effect here is of unknown origin. Yes, I am obviously writing a real world into existence, but that was never my intent. Nor did I know I was capable of it. I have no idea where to even begin to figure this out.”

“If your abilities are impossible in this reality, then how were you fighting me just now?”

“Aside from the fact that I’m sure this is a dream, I’d guess that when you breached the dimensional barrier the book represents you also created a full cycle of that reality warping power back into my world; giving me the ability to express it in my reality. At least, that’s how I’d write it.”

“So, you’re just a writer?”

“Yeah, man. I know that has to suck to hear, but it’s the truth. I’m just a guy who writes stories to make money.”

“And all the death and destruction in my world…?”

“If I’d known it was real, then I’d never have done it. It was supposed to just be words on a page; a fanciful story to appease the appetites of fans of sci-fi/fantasy.”

“But now that you know you can change it.”

“Certainly. That would only be right. Besides, you’re getting more powerful and acting on your own. I didn’t write any of that. And I’d hate to have to fight you for real. I’d rather settle this while I have the edge with the reality-warping deal.”

“How do I know that I can trust you?”

“You don’t. But I’m sure you can feel your strength coming back, no?”

“Actually, yes.”

“Yeah, so can I. And I’m not doing that. It’s taking a considerable amount of concentration to keep your full powers at bay. I wasn’t lying about not wanting to face you in a real fight. You seem to have somehow become resistant to the reality-warping energies. That’s probably how you were able to come here… or something like that. Hell, I don’t know.”

“So even if you send me back–”

“You’d just gain your powers back and you could return. Considering how powerful you’ve already become, you’d eventually figure out how to challenge me properly, I assume. And that’s not even counting the team of other heroes you have by your side.”

“That’s enough of a power balance for now. And I’m willing to consider taking you at your word.”

“Look, I’ll rewrite the current story. The galactic struggle that you and your team are embroiled in involves the Extent. I’ll use the dimensional bleed and its unpredictable makeup to warp space-time and bring back those you’ve lost. I can rewrite your world into a place of peace.”

“Why would you just do that? You’re right that I have authors in my world. Wouldn’t that tank your sales?”

“I can make money writing something else. I can pick up an old set of stories that didn’t come to life. I can’t have this shit on my conscience if it’s real.”

“If I return with this news, then you know a clock will be ticking with my team.”

“I’ll start as soon as I get you back home. If that manuscript you were holding has the energy signature, then changing it should change your world. Here, let me try something. Grab the manuscript and open it to the first page.”

Hero did as requested and I started to rewrite the opening pages on my laptop.

“The words are changing!” Hero reported.

“I figured as much. Take that with you as proof. As I rewrite, you should see both the manuscript and your world change simultaneously.”

“Thank you for being just with your choice. You would have made a good addition to our team if you had been one of your own characters. You would have been an obstinate addition, but a beneficial one nonetheless.”

“I’ll pass,” I joked. “I know the shit you’ve been through. And I don’t want that smoke. That’s why I’m going to fix it.”

“Very well. Restore my powers and I’ll be on my way. I’ll only return if something goes wrong. No offense, but I don’t need to be reminded that our supreme being is a sarcastic writer.”

“Fair enough. But you don’t need to go back on your own. I’ll send you. Shall I erase your memories of all the chaos you’ve been through also?”

“No. We need to remember what happened so we don’t allow it to happen again.” He threw me a discerning look.

“Of course. It might not work on you, anyway. What with you having the resistance to the boundaries I’ve set up in your world.”

“Farewell, er…? What’s your name?”

“Just call me The Author.”

“See? Now you are one of your own characters.” the Hero smiled.

“Touche. Farewell, Hero.”

I returned the Hero to his world, and I immediately began updating the story, as promised. I worked tirelessly over the next month to finish both the rewriting of the book in its current state and the completion of the overall story with changes to bring peace to the Hero’s world. My wife became worried that I’d exhaust myself, but I couldn’t rest until it was done. The Hero was right: I’m obstinate and sarcastic, but I’m no heartless monster. Once I realized that I never woke up from that encounter, I accepted that it was real. But I could never tell my wife that. As spiritual as she is, she has her limits. She’d have me committed.

The book was released a month after I finished it. All it took to accomplish this was to piss off my editor – who told me I was crazy to release the final work. The editor wasn’t wrong. From a career standpoint, it was suicide. The reviewers ripped it to shreds. The fanbase split and went to war. I had destroyed my IP, but I’d saved countless lives. Nobody could ever be told because nobody would ever believe it.

One month after the book’s release the Hero returned.

“I was hoping to never see that blinding flash again,” I greeted.

“I was hoping to never return,” he replied.

“I take it that something is wrong.”

“Not just wrong. Things are gone.”

“Gone?”

“People and places are vanishing without a trace. Other worlds across the galaxy are reporting the same.”

“I didn’t write any of that. There should be peace.”

“There is peace. It lasted for quite a while. Then this vanishing phenomena started to occur. What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything. Didn’t the manuscript I gave you reflect my changes.”

“Yes. But there has to be something else.”

“All we determined last time is that I somehow have the ability to create and reality-warp the context of your world when I write for it. What else could there be?”

“Is there anything different now compared to when you wrote the first books?”

“Everything is the same. The entire series is tanking with fans. The final book was returned at about a sixty percent rate. Everybody hates it. That’s about it.”

The Hero thought for a moment.

“The Strand Pantheon,” he uttered.

“What about them? I didn’t write anything about them. I left them where they were. They weren’t intricate to the rewrite. They remain in their realm where you and your team left them after the ‘Return of Old Gods’ storyline.”

“Yes, but do you remember how you wrote about their ability to return?”

“Um… they were waning in power; barely surviving. Some obscure sect started worshipping them and they regained some power. And…?”

“I’m wondering if your fanbase is tied up in this. Fans is short for ‘fanatics’, right?”

“More or less, yes.”

“That traces back to the Latin word ‘fanum’ which means ‘sanctuary, temple’. Sounds like a potential spiritual tie to me. It’s something my team’s think-tank started to work through when contemplating what could be wrong. They did note you kept good on your word when they traced both manuscript changes and the energy signatures surrounding the corrective events.”

“But now you think my abilities aren’t the only phenomenon at play.”

“Yes.”

“Shit.”

“Yes.”

“This is not good.”

“No.”

“I mean this is not good for you.”

“I know. That’s why I’m here.”

“There’s more, isn’t there?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Okay. Hit me with it.”

“The working hypothesis is that your powers are yours to control, but are granted by your fanbase. They are your worshippers. They give rise to your powers, but only you can control it. But you only maintain access to the powers over the world so long as they provide their belief in you. Without it, the world ceases to exist and there is nothing for you to exert your control over; rendering your powers effectively inert.”

“Has your think-tank considered options, or are you here to hash that out, now?”

“You have to rewrite the rewrite.”

“I was really hoping you had another option.”

“We don’t. And we don’t have much time.”

“The only way to fix this is to return your world to a tumultuous state. That’s what they want.”

“We know. We consulted authors in our world to understand what’s necessary. But I have a request.”

“And that is?”

“Save everyone else and sacrifice me, and me alone. Is this possible?”

I thought for a few moments. “Possibly. But it will not be a quick sacrifice. And you’d likely suffer along the way.”

“Do it.”

“Wait, let me think,” I stalled. “There has to be another way.”

“There won’t be time. Your creative link to my world is waning. If you lose control of the space-time continuum there, then you won’t be able to manipulate reality in a way that can save us in time. You need to act now.”

“Wait. Let me try something.”

I quickly wrote up a few pages of a new story to continue the Hero’s series. The writing consisted of a retcon to a minor event in the last book. Only the Hero would remember this amended detail. I handed the pages the Hero.

“That didn’t take,” Hero offered. “Your changes removed the scar on my right forearm. But it’s still here. You’re losing the ability to reshape the past. You’ll have to move us forward from here.”

“Keep those pages,” I ordered. “I’ll fix it. I’ll find a way.”

“Either way, this is likely our last meeting.”

I must have flashed a forlorn look based on what Hero said next.

“Don’t beat yourself up about this,” Hero comforted. “I’ve spent a long time reflecting on all of this. Given our previous conversation, the events that transpired both before and since, and the state of the Strand Pantheon, I’ve come to the conclusion that even gods can’t really control everything. That’s where heroes come in. You created me for a reason. Let me fulfill that reason.”

My wife and I hadn’t had children yet. But I imagined that this sunken, empty feeling in my gut must be what it’s like to be a parent who knows his or her child is going to die. I offered my hand, and he shook it. And I thought about how a fictional character fought hard enough to bring himself to life in my world only to have to sacrifice it to save everyone he cared about. This being wasn’t real until about a couple of months ago. But this is still a better person than anyone I’d ever met.

Hero returned to his world. I set myself to fixing this mess. I prepared to kill a hero.

It was done within the same one-month constraint I held myself to for the rewrite I made after Hero’s initial visit. I hate to recall the new story. Unfortunately, it was a masterpiece of fiction. And I loathe that I have gotten this good at writing. I actually pulled inspiration from my first meeting with Hero for the restoration of the tale. I wrote in an elaborate illusion created by a powerful mage that served the looming threat that sent Hero to me in the first place. The mage kept Hero trapped in the illusion of a peaceful world while the ultimate chaos agent assaulted his world in real life. Hero escaped the illusion just in time to join his comrades and fight back the threat to their existence. Unfortunately, Hero fell in the process. I saved all those that I could, but I couldn’t go back in time to save anyone who was lost before our first meeting since I’d lost the ability to retcon the space-time continuum.

As my abilities returned to full power with a restored fanbase, I could look in on Hero’s world and see what transpired outside of my writing. Hero was right. I may be a conductor of sorts, but the musicians play on their own. Still hampered from tampering with past events too much for concern of the fanbase’s reaction, I worked to write in an epilogue to the series that saw those whom Hero saved enjoy a peaceful, fruitful after-story.

About six months after the book’s release, I was contemplating writing a how-to course on creative writing. I wanted to stay away from writing fictional stories given the disaster with Hero’s story. In the middle of musing, my wife walked in.

“So, I found these notes sitting on your nightstand. Are you going to write more stories for the Hero’s world?”

“Ah, I don’t know. Just some ideas I was considering.”

“Well, it’s a nice companion piece to the epilogue you wrote for the Hero’s supporting cast.”

“Thanks. I wanted to do something nice for Hero given what he sacrificed.”

“It’s a cool idea. Some supreme being creates a pocket dimension that has a world with the Hero and all the people he lost prior to his final battle.”

“Yeah, he’s separated from those in his original reality, but he has a measure of peace. I feel he earned something.”

“So are you contemplating writing him back to life?”

“If I can think up an event that the fanbase will accept then, yes. But that’s a stretch. If nothing is truly sacrificed, then the fans won’t likely accept it. It would cheapen everything the protagonists have gone through. But I’d like nothing more than a boring story that gave my characters everything they wanted.”

“Well that’s unusually thoughtful of you for a group of fictional characters. You’d think they were real people.” she laughed.

“I confess that they did start to become real to me,” I admitted; wanting her to know the full truth. “But it’s all done now. Time for a new project.”

“Well, I’m proud of how you turned that series around. I just came to tell you that. I’m headed out to my spiritual gathering this evening. I’ll be back for a late dinner.”

“I think I might join you.”

“What? You? Mr. Atheist?”

“Yeah, yeah. Get it all out.”

“But you always go on about how any supreme being that allows all this evil in the world can’t be trusted; can’t be benevolent.”

“I’ll own that.”

“So, what’s changed?”

“Let’s just say I have reason to believe that whoever or whatever the supreme being is, I may have underestimated how hard a job that must be; even for a being that can manipulate reality.”