THE MORE YOU READ, the more changes happen. I don't know how the change started. I don't know why it was this notebook. It's ordinary. The off-white lined pages gave a welcoming aroma. Perhaps, the story spun out ⎻ trying to live, trying to Thrive, but the story forgot it's under this pencil. There are rules. Rules that I thought I understood.
Life is in the word. I'm not The Word. I'm a vessel like him ⎻ the man who devours nightmares, King Malachi.
If you want to keep the story the way it is, you must not read anymore. You must stay here or pause when you are okay for it to be complete. You must stay where the story began. I can't tell you what to do because I'm not sure what I would have done if I knew what I now know.
As you turn the pages you'll begin to see how he saw me. I saw him but not because I looked at him. I saw him by the story. By the plot that edged me on to read. To write down. All my emotions entwined with the characters leading me or perhaps I lead them. Which comes first: the pencil or the story?
If I'd known, maybe I could have stopped this hurt. His hurt. I've never hated him. But really what could I have provided for him? The villain and the author can't fall in love.
And yet, we did.
⎯ Darlene Cloud