A dark empty space right before me. it's like an endless abyss, and it seems like i can't feel myself.
'am i dead?' I thought to myself.
A small light appeared, a symbol of hope for me. As i stared blankly at if my body moved on it's own running towards it trying to reach my arm forward.
I ran endlessly, has it been an hour? or a day? And finally i came close to it.
As soon as I reached it, the light vanished. The once dark empty space became an endless space that is colored white.
I could almost see my reflection below me. Is it a mirror or water.
I can't see my face at all, it was blurry. Am i a man or a woman, I... didn't know.
I bent down, touched my reflection, I caressed the reflection of my blurried face. Suddenly, a vision came to my mind.
A guy talking to his self in a mirror. "If readers felt like constellations watching from the sky then a writer must've felt like a god."
A god...?
Then the guy stared at the mirror for quite a while, although, it looks like he's staring at me.
After seeing that vision, I came back to the space before. In that endless bright space, a desk with a chair appeared like magic.
I walked towards it slowly. Every step i take, a ripple effect would take its place at the water-like ground, but my feet never gets wet.
As I reached the desk, an old paper, an ink, and a feathered pen was laid down. I picked up the feathered pen and sat at the chair on instinct.
I still can't feel my face nor my body, but one thing's for sure, I can feel my hand when i touched the feathered pen.
Am I supposed to be a writer here? I must've read too many novels for this kind of things happening to me.
Having no recollections of anything, waking up in this space and not recognizing myself, maybe this pen might hold a key to this problem.
I tried writing something simple on the paper, the ink used turned into gold as i wrote every letter.
'apple'
Surprisingly, an apple appeared at the desk like magic. Like a child in awe, I wrote simple words again and again until it filled the space.
'Banana, ball, tree,... and more'
Everything appeared. Lastly, I wrote 'mask', by having the inability to see my face, I wore it. It was a plain mask with two holes only for the eyes.
As soon as it filled the page, a paper appeared at my side with a record of everything that was written all in black. Everything was recorded and those written in the original paper disappeared without a trace.
At the newly blank paper, I started writing not just one word but a whole sentence of narrative descriptions.
'A galaxy filled of stars.'
As i wrote it, the once plain space turned into a galaxy. It was surprising but i kept my composure.
It was too beautiful of a scene. One that can make a person feels exhalirated. Then I wrote again, 'meteor shower'. It did appeared again.
It rained of meteors throughout the sky beautifully. For once, it seemed like I've become a god... Something I would've never dreamed of.
Then the phrase came back to my mind, 'Then a writer must've felt like a god....' If that was true, then...
As I think about it, my hand wrote on its own, it wrote 10 hours or more continuously without me being able to control it. In those hours, the recorded copies on my side piled up slowly.
Finally, I was able to drop the feathered pen off my hand. I reached to the recorded copy and reviewed it one by one in order.
'Did I just wrote a whole story?', I thought to myself. A story about someone cursed that they have to repeat his endless cycle of life asking for salvation only to die peacefully at the end.
It was such a pitiful end, it even made me thought, if there really is a god then it must be cruel for them to give him that kind of fate.
Having that kind of thoughts made me realized something. If my hand wrote those uncontrollably, then doesn't that make me the god of that world.
The world of the finished book unfolded beneath me, the world was just under my feet, his story and fate being played out, but I shift my gaze back at the papers.
It was a book I made on a whim, an experiment, a practice to get used to writing.
I stared at the finished work blankly, in just a short time, it looked like a real book but it lacked a cover.
After writing, I never felt anything at all, it's like all my emotions were stripped off from me. I can't even see what expression am I wearing. I want to panic but i can't bring myself to it.
At this point I started questioning myself, my existence, everything. I know I lived in a real world out there but why does it feel like I haven't.
I never wanted to be a god... gods are selfish.
Then, the finished work had a cover appeared in it, "The Foolish One" it says as the title. Then the book flew and disappeared into an empty shelf which after writing random words earlier.
As the book closed, the world disappeared along it and the bright endless space came back.
Few minutes later after contemplating without knowing what kind of expression I'm wearing or emotion I'm feeling, I decided to pick up the pen once more.
If I truly became a god, that would mean I could make my own world, and make a life within it.
I wrote endlessly each page filled with imagination, desperation, hope, and more.
Time passed and I kept on writing, has it been weeks? months? years? I never knew, since the space remained bright. As I wrote it one by one, the story played chapter by chapter beneath me. The once mirror-like floor became a huge screen for me to watch the story unfold as I write it.
A world I created, I can touch it but I cannot enter it. If so, I will create a persona that can go inside that world.
'A bird.'
As soon as it was created, it flew right at the ground. I could see the world I created just before me. I stopped writing for a moment... I was able to bring down my pen now after writing countless pages. Then I stand up from my chair and guided the bird at my intended direction.
Sea, Land, Sky, I could see all of it. I bent down on one knee and touched the floor carefully causing it to ripple gently.
As I watched the scene before me, it made me think, 'gods might be selfish, but it feels weirdly satisfying to watch the world beneath me...'
"I might suit being a god after all." I said, and that was the first time I heard my voice myself for the first time after coming in here.