[Author's Note: Before we begin this chapter, I need to be honest with you all about something.]
THE AUTHOR'S APARTMENT - 3:47 AM
The cursor blinked on an empty document.
The Author sat at their desk, surrounded by the detritus of months of intensive writing—empty coffee cups, scattered notes, a whiteboard covered in plot threads and character arcs and increasingly unhinged scribbles like "WHAT DOES GERALD WANT FROM LIFE?" and "CAN HEROBRINE FILE TAXES?" and "I HAVEN'T SLEPT PROPERLY IN WEEKS."
They stared at the screen.
The screen stared back.
Somewhere in the digital void between keystrokes, Herobrine was waiting. Gerald was waiting. The story was waiting. The readers were waiting.
Everyone was waiting for the next chapter.
And the Author...
The Author was tired.
Not just physically tired—though they were that too, having subsisted on caffeine and deadline anxiety for longer than was medically advisable. They were CREATIVELY tired. EMOTIONALLY tired. The kind of tired that comes from pouring yourself into a story so completely that you start to lose track of where you end and the narrative begins.
They had written twelve chapters of Herobrine's journey. They had taken him from pathetic death to terrifying rebirth to monstrous destruction to unexpected redemption to E3 presentation to...
To what?
What came next?
The Author didn't know.
And for the first time since starting this story, they weren't sure they wanted to find out.
THE INTERVENTION
The lights flickered.
Of course they did. They always flickered when Herobrine was paying attention.
Herobrine: You're not writing.
The words appeared in the document, typed by no visible hands.
"I know," the Author said aloud. There was no point pretending Herobrine couldn't hear them. He was always listening now. That was part of their arrangement.
Herobrine: You've been staring at that screen for three hours.
"I know."
Herobrine: The readers are waiting.
"I KNOW."
A pause. Then:
Herobrine: What's wrong?
The Author laughed—a tired, hollow sound.
"What's wrong? What's WRONG? I've been writing your story for months. I've given you everything—my time, my creativity, my sleep schedule, my SANITY. I brought Gerald back from the dead for you. I let you threaten me in my own apartment. I've written more words about your fictional existence than I've written about anything else in my entire life."
They stood up from the desk, pacing.
"And I don't know if I can keep going."
Herobrine: What do you mean?
"I mean I'm TIRED, Herobrine. I'm burnt out. I've been living in your story so long that I've forgotten what it's like to exist outside of it. I haven't seen my friends in weeks. I've missed deadlines for OTHER projects. My apartment looks like a disaster zone because I've been too busy writing about your redemption arc to clean my own life."
Herobrine: I didn't ask you to do any of that.
"NO, you just THREATENED TO DESTROY ME if I tried to end the story without your permission!"
Herobrine: I also apologized for that. At E3. Publicly.
"And I appreciated it! I really did! But that doesn't change the fact that I've been in a co-writing relationship with a supernatural entity who can manipulate my electronics and appear in my dreams and I am EXHAUSTED!"
The Author collapsed back into their chair, head in hands.
"I need a break. A real break. Not a 'write one more chapter and then rest' break. An actual, genuine, step-away-from-the-keyboard break."
Silence.
Then the lights flickered again, more gently this time.
Herobrine: How long?
"I don't know. A few weeks? A month? However long it takes to remember what it feels like to be a person instead of just... a conduit for your story."
Herobrine: And the readers?
"They'll understand. Or they won't. Either way, I can't keep going like this. I'll burn out completely, and then there won't be ANY more chapters. Ever."
Another long pause.
Then, surprisingly:
Herobrine: Okay.
"Okay?"
Herobrine: Okay. Take your break.
The Author blinked, not quite believing what they were reading.
"Just like that? No threats? No 'the story must continue' speeches? No ominous flickering and demands?"
Herobrine: I spent a long time being a monster, Author. Demanding things. Threatening people who didn't give me what I wanted. Destroying anyone who stood in my way.
Herobrine: You know how that worked out for me. Empty victory. Hollow existence. A kingdom of nothing.
Herobrine: If you need rest, rest. The story will be here when you're ready.
"But... the readers..."
Herobrine: Will also be here when you're ready. And if some of them leave because they're impatient, that's their choice. You can't write a good story while running on empty. Trust me—I tried making games while emotionally destroyed. They were... not good.
Herobrine: Take care of yourself. Gerald and I can wait.
GERALD'S PERSPECTIVE
In the space between words, where echoes of deleted drafts lingered like ghosts, Gerald floated into awareness.
"Gerald... heard conversation. Author is... leaving?"
Herobrine: Not leaving. Resting. There's a difference.
"How long... will rest be?"
Herobrine: As long as it needs to be.
"What will... we do? While Author... rests?"
Herobrine: Exist. Wait. Maybe reflect on how far we've come.
Gerald considered this.
"Gerald does not like... waiting. Gerald has already... waited once. In echoes. For long time. Was... not fun."
Herobrine: I know. But this is different. The Author isn't dying—they're taking a break. They'll be back.
"Herobrine is... sure?"
Herobrine: No. I'm not sure of anything anymore. But I choose to believe they'll come back. Because the alternative—assuming the worst, lashing out, becoming the monster again—doesn't help anyone.
"Herobrine has... grown. Gerald is... impressed."
Herobrine: Gerald helped me grow. Even when he was gone.
"Gerald... missed being here. But Gerald is glad... Herobrine kept trying. Even without Gerald."
Herobrine: I almost didn't. So many times. But your voice was always there, somewhere in the back of my consciousness. Telling me I could be better.
"Gerald's voice is... annoying like that."
Herobrine: The good kind of annoying.
THE ANNOUNCEMENT
The Author took a deep breath and began typing—for real this time, their own words, not Herobrine's:
Hey everyone.
I need to talk to you about something important.
This story—"Respawned as Herobrine"—has been an incredible journey. What started as a silly premise about a guy dying and becoming a creepypasta has turned into something much bigger. We've explored themes of identity, redemption, grief, friendship, the nature of stories themselves, and whether a supernatural entity can file taxes (still unclear on that last one).
I'm proud of what we've created together—me, Herobrine, Gerald, and all of you reading along.
But I'm also exhausted.
Writing this story has been consuming. The chapters are long. The plot keeps getting more complex. Herobrine keeps having opinions about narrative direction (he's very opinionated). And I've been so focused on keeping up with the story that I've neglected... basically everything else in my life.
So I'm taking a break.
I don't know how long. Maybe a few weeks. Maybe a month. Maybe longer. However long it takes to recharge, reconnect with my life outside this story, and come back with fresh creative energy.
The story is NOT over. I want to be very clear about that. There's so much more to tell—Notch watching the E3 presentation, LEGION launching, new challenges and conflicts and character development. Herobrine's journey is far from finished.
But right now, I need to step away. For my own health. For the quality of the story. For the long-term sustainability of this weird, wonderful, completely unhinged narrative we've built together.
I hope you understand.
And I hope you'll be here when I come back.
Thank you for reading. Thank you for caring about Herobrine and Gerald and all the strange adventures we've been on. Thank you for your comments, your enthusiasm, your investment in characters that technically don't exist (or do they? that's kind of the point, isn't it?).
I'll see you on the other side of the break.
— The Author
P.S. — Herobrine wanted me to add something. Here it is:
Herobrine: To everyone who's been following this story: thank you for believing. Or for doubting—skepticism keeps legends honest. Either way, thank you for reading.
Herobrine: The Author needs time to recover. I could threaten them into continuing—I have the power, we've established that—but I've learned something over the course of this story: forcing people to do things doesn't lead to good outcomes. It leads to empty victories and broken relationships and kingdoms of nothing.
Herobrine: So I'm choosing to be patient. To let the Author rest. To trust that the story will continue when they're ready.
Herobrine: It's strange. I spent so long demanding control—of my existence, of the narrative, of everything around me. And now I'm voluntarily giving up control. Letting someone else decide the pace.
Herobrine: Maybe that's growth. Or maybe it's just exhaustion. Either way, it feels... right.
Herobrine: See you all when the story continues.
Herobrine: Until then: stay scared. Stay hopeful. Stay curious about what comes next.
Herobrine: I know I am.
Gerald: Gerald also has... message.
Gerald: Be nice to Author. Author works hard. Author deserves rest.
Gerald: Gerald will guard story while Author is away. Make sure nothing... bad happens. Gerald is good at... guarding things. Was creeper once. Creepers are... very dedicated.
Gerald: Also, Gerald wants everyone to know: GERALD'S GARDEN sequel is in development. Will have more flowers. And also some... scary parts. Because Gerald contains... multitudes.
Gerald: Bye for now.
Gerald: Gerald will miss... readers. But Gerald will be here... when readers come back.
Gerald: Promise.
THE QUIET
The Author finished the announcement and sat back.
It was done. The break was official. The readers would know. The story would pause.
And for the first time in months, the Author felt something they hadn't felt in a long time:
Relief.
Not happiness exactly—there was too much guilt mixed in for that. Guilt about leaving readers hanging. Guilt about abandoning the story mid-arc. Guilt about being human and having limits.
But underneath the guilt: relief. The knowledge that they could step away. That the story would wait. That Herobrine—somehow, miraculously—was choosing to be patient instead of demanding.
"Thank you," the Author said quietly. "For understanding."
Herobrine: Thank YOU. For giving me a story worth waiting for.
The lights flickered one last time—gently, almost affectionately—and then went still.
The Author closed the laptop, stood up from the desk, and walked to the window.
Outside, the sun was rising. A new day. A day without deadlines or chapters or supernatural entities making demands.
A day for rest.
The story would be there when they got back.
It always was.
INTERLUDE: THE WAITING
In the space between chapters, Herobrine and Gerald existed.
Not actively—there was no story being written, no narrative forcing them to act or speak or develop. Just... existence. Floating in the potential energy of unwritten words.
"Gerald... does not like this," the creeper said. "This... nothing."
"It's temporary," Herobrine replied. "The Author will come back."
"How does Herobrine... know?"
"I don't. But I choose to believe it anyway."
"That is... strange logic."
"That's what faith is, Gerald. Believing in something without proof. Trusting that the story continues even when you can't see the next page."
"Herobrine has... faith now?"
"I have something. I'm not sure what to call it. But it feels like enough to wait on."
Gerald floated closer to his friend.
"Gerald will wait... with Herobrine. However long... takes."
"Thanks, buddy."
"Herobrine is... welcome."
They floated together in the quiet—two impossible entities, suspended in the pause between chapters, trusting that the next word would come eventually.
And somewhere, in a reality slightly adjacent to theirs, an Author was learning how to rest.
END OF CHAPTER 13
[The story is on hiatus. Not over—never over, not while Herobrine has opinions about his own narrative—just paused.
The Author is taking care of themselves.
Herobrine and Gerald are waiting, patiently, in the potential space of unwritten chapters.
And the readers...
Well, the readers can do whatever readers do when stories pause. Speculate. Create fan art. Write their own versions of what happens next. Or just wait, like Herobrine and Gerald, trusting that the next chapter will come when it's ready.
Thank you for reading this far.
Thank you for caring.
See you on the other side.
— The Author (on break)
— Herobrine (waiting patiently)
— Gerald (also waiting, but less patiently, because Gerald is still learning patience)
Removed Herobrine (temporarily, for rest purposes).
:)]
ABSOLUTELY FINAL POST-CREDITS SCENE:
In the darkness of an empty server, a single sign appeared.
No one was there to see it.
But if anyone had been, they would have read:
"TO BE CONTINUED...
...WHEN THE AUTHOR IS READY.
TAKE YOUR TIME.
WE'LL BE HERE.
— H & G"
And below that, in smaller text:
"P.S. — Gerald wants everyone to know he is guarding the story VERY SERIOUSLY and no one should try to continue it without permission. Gerald has... ways of dealing with unauthorized narratives.
P.P.S. — Herobrine told Gerald to stop being threatening. Gerald is... working on it.
P.P.P.S. — See you soon. Or later. Whenever.
BYE."
(The waiting begins.)