*EPISODE SEVENTY-FIVE**
**THE STORY THAT WAS NEVER WRITTEN**
**Part Sixteen: THE EYES THAT OPENED AFTER THE END**
---
The page...
was blank.
Except...
it wasn't.
Milo stared at the sentence.
THIS TIME...
YOU ARE NOT THE MAIN CHARACTER.
He read it again.
Then once more.
As if repetition...
might somehow...
make it less insulting.
It did not.
Tarzan slowly raised his hand.
Milo looked at him.
"What?"
Tarzan pointed at the page.
"I HAVE A QUESTION."
Milo sighed.
"Of course you do."
Tarzan looked deeply concerned.
"IF YOU ARE NOT THE MAIN CHARACTER..."
A pause.
"...AM I?"
Milo stared at him.
"No."
Tarzan looked relieved.
"GOOD."
Diana slowly turned toward him.
"Good?"
Tarzan nodded.
"MAIN CHARACTERS HAVE TOO MANY PROBLEMS."
The blank page moved.
A new sentence appeared.
TARZAN IS CORRECT.
Tarzan looked proud.
Milo looked suspicious.
"Who wrote that?"
Nothing.
The page remained still.
Then...
slowly...
another word appeared.
I.
Milo froze.
Diana grabbed his arm.
The little girl...
the one who looked exactly like Diana...
stood beside the black door.
Her crayon moved across the floor.
SCRATCH.
SCRATCH.
SCRATCH.
Milo whispered—
"Who are you?"
The girl did not look up.
"You already asked."
"Then answer."
The crayon stopped.
The girl smiled.
"No."
Tarzan nodded approvingly.
"GOOD ANSWER."
Milo looked at him.
"Whose side are you on?"
Tarzan thought about this.
Then...
"BANANA'S SIDE."
"That isn't a side."
Tarzan pointed into the darkness.
"THERE IS ALWAYS A BANANA SIDE."
Somewhere...
far away...
something laughed.
Not the page.
Not the little girl.
Not the hungry answer.
Something else.
Someone else.
And then...
the page...
began to erase itself.
---
1. THE NAME THAT HAD NOT BEEN WRITTEN
Letters disappeared.
T.
H.
I.
S.
Gone.
Milo stepped forward.
"Stop."
The erasing continued.
TARZAN grabbed the page.
The page passed through his hands.
"IT IS GHOST PAPER."
"That's not a thing."
"IT IS NOW."
Diana watched the letters vanish.
Her face changed.
"Milo."
"What?"
"Look."
The final sentence was disappearing.
Not from left to right.
Not from right to left.
From the middle.
MAIN CHARACTER became...
MAI CHARACTER....
Then...
M CHARAC...
Then...
nothing.
Milo stared at the blankness.
"What happens when it finishes?"
The little girl answered.
"Someone wakes up."
Silence.
Diana turned toward her.
"Who?"
The girl finally looked up.
Her black eyes reflected nothing.
"Me."
THUMP.
Milo froze.
The heartbeat.
Small.
Close.
But...
not inside Diana.
The little girl pressed one hand against her chest.
THUMP.
Again.
Diana stepped backward.
"No."
The girl looked confused.
"Why not?"
Diana's voice shook.
"Because you aren't real."
The little girl smiled.
"Neither are you."
The hospital vanished.
The classroom vanished.
The black door vanished.
For one second...
everything was only white.
Then...
a new place appeared.
A bedroom.
Ordinary.
Too ordinary.
A small bed.
A wooden desk.
Books.
A window.
Rain against the glass.
Milo stopped breathing.
He knew this room.
He had never seen it before.
And yet...
he knew.
Tarzan whispered...
"THIS IS BAD."
Milo nodded.
"Yes."
"WHY?"
Milo looked at the bed.
Because someone...
was sleeping in it.
A child.
Covered by a blanket.
Facing the wall.
Diana whispered...
"Who is that?"
The little girl smiled.
"The main character."
---
2. THE CHILD WHO WAS DREAMING TOO LOUDLY
The sleeping child breathed.
Slowly.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Each breath changed something.
In...
A star appeared outside the window.
Out...
A jungle appeared behind Tarzan.
Tarzan looked around.
"HELLO."
In...
The jungle disappeared.
Out...
A hospital monitor began beeping.
Diana covered her mouth.
Milo stepped closer to the bed.
"No."
The child turned.
Milo stopped.
The face was hidden.
A pillow.
A blanket.
A curtain of hair.
He reached out.
Diana grabbed his hand.
"Milo."
"I need to see."
"No."
He looked at her.
"You don't know that."
Diana's eyes filled with tears.
"That's why."
Silence.
Milo looked back at the sleeping child.
The little girl began drawing on the wall.
One sentence.
The child dreams.
Then beneath it—
The dream dreams back.
Milo whispered...
"Who is dreaming whom?"
The little girl shrugged.
"You still want a first."
Milo closed his eyes.
The child on the bed...
laughed.
Milo opened his eyes.
The child was still asleep.
But smiling.
Tarzan stepped closer.
"DOES HE HAVE BANANAS?"
Milo stared at him.
Tarzan shrugged.
"IMPORTANT QUESTION."
The child answered.
"Yes."
Tarzan screamed.
"WHERE?"
The child's eyes opened.
Everyone froze.
They were not black.
They were not glowing.
They were ordinary.
Human.
And terrified.
The child looked at Tarzan.
Then Milo.
Then Diana.
Then the little girl.
And whispered...
"You're all here again."
Milo's heart stopped.
"What?"
The child sat up.
He looked older now.
Not six.
Not eight.
Maybe ten.
Maybe twelve.
Maybe every age at once.
He looked at Milo.
"You took a long time."
Milo whispered...
"Who are you?"
The child smiled sadly.
"You still don't know?"
"No."
The child looked relieved.
"Good."
Milo stepped forward.
"Stop saying that."
The child flinched.
"Why?"
"Because everyone keeps acting like not knowing is the answer."
Tarzan nodded.
"IT IS VERY CONFUSING."
The child looked at Milo.
Then...
for the first time...
laughed.
A real laugh.
Small.
Unexpected.
"I like him."
Tarzan pointed at himself.
"I AM LIKEABLE."
"No."
Tarzan's face fell.
The child continued.
"I mean you."
Milo stared.
"Why?"
The child pointed at the blank page floating in the air.
"Because you don't belong there anymore."
---
3. THE MAN WHO LOST HIS STORY
Milo looked at the page.
"That says I'm not the main character."
"Yes."
"So who is?"
The child looked down.
"Me."
Silence.
Diana whispered...
"Why?"
The child stared at his hands.
"I didn't ask to be."
Milo remembered the first god.
The child with the pencil.
I didn't want the job.
Tarzan whispered—
"THIS HAPPENS A LOT."
Milo looked at the child.
"What's your name?"
The child went still.
The room went silent.
Rain stopped against the window.
The little girl stopped drawing.
Diana slowly stepped backward.
Milo frowned.
"What?"
The child whispered...
"I don't have one."
Milo's face changed.
"No one has ever called you anything?"
The child shook his head.
"Not yet."
Diana looked at the little girl.
"And her?"
The child looked at her.
"She named herself."
The little girl smiled.
"My name is Diana."
Diana whispered...
"Why?"
The girl looked genuinely confused.
"Because I liked it."
Diana closed her eyes.
Milo looked at the nameless child.
"So..."
He searched for words.
"You dreamed us?"
The child nodded.
"Sometimes."
"And sometimes we dreamed you?"
The child nodded again.
"And sometimes neither of us dreamed anyone?"
The child smiled.
"You're learning."
Milo sighed.
"I hate learning."
"That's why you needed this."
"Needed what?"
The child looked around the room.
"The story without you."
Silence.
Milo laughed once.
Coldly.
"What does that mean?"
The child pointed at the page.
"You always thought the story was about finding out who you were."
Milo stared.
The child continued.
"Who dreamed you."
A pause.
"Why you existed."
Another pause.
"What you were supposed to become."
Diana looked at Milo.
The child whispered...
"But what if..."
He looked at the blank page.
"...you were only the question that helped someone else wake up?"
Milo stopped moving.
Tarzan looked at him.
"THAT SOUNDS RUDE."
Milo whispered...
"A little."
The child smiled.
"I know."
Milo stepped closer.
"Then why am I here?"
The child looked toward the window.
Rain began again.
"Because I was afraid to write."
---
4. THE STORY THAT WAS NEVER WRITTEN
The room changed.
The walls became pages.
The floor became paper.
The rain became ink.
Black drops fell from the ceiling.
But they never touched anyone.
They stopped...
just above the ground.
Thousands of words floated inside them.
Milo looked closer.
Names.
Places.
Deaths.
Births.
Entire lives.
Written...
but unfinished.
Diana whispered...
"What is this?"
The child answered.
"My stories."
Milo looked around.
There were millions.
One drop contained a woman standing beside a sea.
Another...
a soldier returning home.
Another...
a monster hiding beneath a bed.
Another...
a man who could not die.
Another...
a girl who remembered every life she had never lived.
Tarzan found one.
A jungle.
Two bananas.
He pointed.
"THIS ONE IS GOOD."
The child looked.
Then frowned.
"I never finished it."
Tarzan gasped.
"WHY?"
The child shrugged.
"I didn't know what happened next."
Tarzan looked at Milo.
Milo looked back.
Tarzan whispered...
"THIS IS THE WORST THING I HAVE EVER HEARD."
Milo nodded.
"That's saying something."
The child sat at the desk.
A blank notebook appeared before him.
Milo looked at it.
"Is that..."
The child nodded.
"The first story."
Milo's breathing slowed.
"The one Diana remembered."
Diana froze.
The child opened the notebook.
Every page was blank.
Except one.
At the very beginning.
Milo stepped closer.
He read the words.
HELLO.
Nothing else.
Diana whispered...
"The first word."
The child shook his head.
"No."
Milo frowned.
"What?"
The child looked at him.
"The first word after the silence."
The room trembled.
Milo remembered.
Before once upon a time.
The place where the story began.
The black door.
The girl with the crayon.
Milo whispered...
"What came before it?"
The child smiled.
"I told you."
Milo waited.
The child pointed at the blank pages.
"Nothing."
Milo stared.
"No."
"Yes."
"That's impossible."
The child laughed.
"You're still trying to make nothing into something."
Milo's mouth opened.
Then closed.
Tarzan whispered—
"HE DOES THAT."
Milo looked at him.
"Stop helping."
---
5. THE THING INSIDE THE UNWRITTEN
The notebook closed.
By itself.
CLAP.
Everyone jumped.
The child looked frightened.
Milo noticed.
"What?"
The child did not answer.
CLAP.
The notebook opened again.
This time...
there was writing.
One sentence.
HELLO.
Then beneath it...
I'M STILL HERE.
Milo's body went cold.
Diana grabbed his arm.
The little girl stopped smiling.
Tarzan whispered...
"IS THAT THE HUNGRY ANSWER?"
The child shook his head.
"No."
Milo turned.
"Then who?"
The ink moved.
New words appeared.
I WAS HERE BEFORE THE QUESTION.
Silence.
Milo whispered...
"No."
Another sentence.
BEFORE THE DREAM.
Another.
BEFORE THE DREAMER.
The child with no name began crying.
Milo stared at him.
"You know what this is."
The child shook his head violently.
"No."
"You do."
"I DON'T."
The notebook wrote again.
HE DOESN'T REMEMBER.
Diana stepped backward.
Milo whispered...
"Remember what?"
The pages around them began turning.
Every unwritten story.
Every unfinished life.
Every possibility.
Turning at once.
FLIP.
FLIP.
FLIP.
Then...
the room went dark.
Not black.
Darker.
A darkness with no color.
No distance.
No shape.
Milo heard breathing.
Not one breath.
Thousands.
Millions.
Then...
one voice.
Soft.
Close.
"Hello."
Tarzan immediately hid behind Diana.
Diana looked at him.
"Tarzan."
"I AM PROTECTING THE CHILD."
Diana stared.
"Which child?"
Tarzan looked around.
"...GOOD QUESTION."
The voice laughed.
The nameless child covered his ears.
"Don't answer."
Milo froze.
The voice continued.
"That's what you taught them."
Milo whispered....
"Who are you?"
Diana looked at him.
"Milo."
Too late.
The darkness smiled.
"You."
Silence.
Then...
Milo saw it.
Not with his eyes.
With something deeper.
A memory.
Impossible.
Before birth.
Before dreams.
Before the Mother.
Before the First Mind.
Before the question.
Milo...
writing.
---
6. THE AUTHOR WHO NEVER EXISTED
"No."
Milo stepped backward.
The darkness changed.
A desk appeared.
A chair.
A lamp.
A hand.
Milo's hand.
Holding a pen.
He stared.
"No."
Words were appearing on a page.
ONCE UPON A TIME...
Milo grabbed the paper.
The memory vanished.
He was back in the dark room.
Diana stared at him.
"Milo?"
He couldn't answer.
The voice whispered....
"You remember."
"No."
"You wrote them."
"No."
"Tarzan."
Milo covered his ears.
"Stop."
"Diana."
The darkness continued.
"The Mother of All Dreams."
"STOP."
"The child."
Milo screamed.
The room shook.
Tarzan grabbed him.
"WHAT IS HAPPENING?"
Milo looked at him.
His face was pale.
"I saw..."
He couldn't finish.
The nameless child whispered...
"The first writer."
Everyone turned.
Milo stared at him.
The child was crying.
"You."
Diana shook her head.
"No."
The child looked at her.
"I thought he was only another character."
Milo whispered....
"I am."
The child smiled sadly.
"Maybe."
Silence.
Then the notebook wrote....
SO AM I.
Milo looked at the darkness.
"You're lying."
The voice answered...
"Possibly."
Milo froze.
Tarzan whispered...
"THAT IS NOT COMFORTING."
The darkness spoke again.
"I am not the answer."
Milo stared.
"Then what are you?"
A pause.
Then...
"I am the part you refused to write."
The nameless child screamed.
The darkness opened.
Not like a mouth.
Like a door.
Behind it...
another room.
A man sat at a desk.
Older.
Tired.
Writing.
Milo stared.
The man looked exactly like him.
Older Milo.
But not the Milo who had created the machine.
Older.
Older than memory.
The man lifted his head.
He looked directly at Milo.
And smiled.
Milo whispered...
"Who are you?"
The old man answered...
"You."
---
7. THE FIRST AUTHOR'S LAST WARNING
Milo stepped toward the doorway.
Diana grabbed him.
"No."
He looked at her.
"I have to."
Diana shook her head.
"Every time you say that, something terrible happens."
Tarzan nodded.
"THIS IS TRUE."
Milo looked at the old man.
The old man was still writing.
"Come in."
Milo stepped through.
The others followed.
The room was small.
Human.
Books covered every wall.
Not infinite books.
Old books.
Used books.
Some torn.
Some burned.
Some unfinished.
On the desk...
a single manuscript.
Milo looked at the title.
His heart stopped.
THE QUESTION THAT DREAMED GOD.
Diana whispered...
"No."
The old man looked at her.
"Hello, Diana."
She stepped backward.
"You know me."
The old man smiled.
"Of course."
Tarzan raised his hand.
"DO YOU KNOW ME?"
The old man looked at him.
"No."
Tarzan gasped.
"GOOD."
Milo stared at the manuscript.
"You wrote this."
The old man nodded.
"Part of it."
"Who wrote the rest?"
The old man looked toward the door.
The darkness outside waited.
"I did."
Milo frowned.
"That makes no sense."
"Exactly."
The old man stopped writing.
Milo saw his hands.
They were covered in ink.
But beneath the ink...
were scars.
The same scars Milo had.
The old man whispered...
"I started the story."
Milo waited.
"Then I became afraid of ending it."
Diana whispered...
"Why?"
The old man looked at the manuscript.
"Because I realized something."
Milo stepped closer.
"What?"
The old man looked at him.
"Characters don't die when a story ends."
Silence.
Milo felt cold.
The old man continued.
"They die when the author decides there is nothing left to ask."
Tarzan slowly sat down.
"THAT IS SAD."
The old man nodded.
"Yes."
Milo whispered...
"So you kept writing."
"No."
The old man looked terrified.
"I stopped."
Milo frowned.
"What?"
The old man pointed at the manuscript.
"The story continued anyway."
THUMP.
Everyone froze.
The manuscript moved.
By itself.
A new page appeared.
Milo looked down.
Words formed.
THE AUTHOR LOOKED AT THE MAN WHO THOUGHT HE WAS THE AUTHOR.
The old man stood.
"Don't read it."
Milo froze.
"Why?"
The old man whispered....
"Because this is where I lost control."
---
8. THE CHARACTER WHO WROTE BACK
The page continued.
MILO SMILED.
Milo stared.
He wasn't smiling.
THE AUTHOR REALIZED THE PROBLEM.
Milo's mouth slowly curved upward.
Against his will.
Diana screamed.
"Milo!"
He grabbed his own face.
"Stop."
The manuscript wrote...
HE SAID.
Milo stopped speaking.
Tarzan ran to the desk.
"DO NOT WRITE HIM."
The old man grabbed the manuscript.
Too late.
The pages began turning.
FLIP.
FLIP.
FLIP.
Then...
a sentence appeared.
TARZAN RAN.
Tarzan froze.
The old man looked at him.
"Oh no."
Tarzan screamed...
"I DO NOT LIKE LITERATURE."
The sentence changed.
TARZAN DID NOT LIKE LITERATURE.
Tarzan's mouth closed.
He stared.
"YES."
Milo looked at the old man.
"You can control us."
The old man shook his head.
"No."
The manuscript wrote...
HE LIED.
The old man stepped backward.
Milo whispered...
"Who is writing?"
No answer.
Then...
from behind them...
a chair moved.
SCRAPE.
Everyone turned.
The nameless child was sitting at the desk.
He held the pen.
Milo stared.
"You."
The child looked frightened.
"I didn't do it."
The pen moved.
Across the page.
Without his hand.
The child screamed and dropped it.
The pen continued.
THIS STORY WAS NEVER WRITTEN.
Milo whispered...
"Then why are we here?"
The pen stopped.
A new sentence appeared.
BECAUSE YOU ARE READING IT.
Silence.
Diana covered her mouth.
The old man sat down slowly.
Tarzan whispered...
"I DO NOT UNDERSTAND."
Milo looked at the page.
The page looked back.
Not literally.
That would have been worse.
Or perhaps...
better.
Milo remembered the eye in the period.
The child with the pencil.
The hungry answer.
Certainty.
The first god.
Every one of them...
had wanted to know where the story began.
But this...
was something else.
The story did not need to be written...
before it could exist.
It only needed...
someone...
to enter it.
The old man whispered...
"That's what I was afraid of."
Milo looked at him.
"What?"
The old man pointed at the manuscript.
"I wasn't writing the story."
A pause.
"The story was writing me."
---
9. THE READER BEHIND THE DOOR
A knock came from the darkness.
Three times.
KNOCK.
KNOCK.
KNOCK.
Everyone stopped.
Diana whispered...
"Don't open it."
Milo looked at the door.
"Which one?"
Every door in the room...
opened.
The bookshelves moved apart.
Behind them...
more darkness.
Then...
a voice.
"Excuse me."
Tarzan screamed.
"WHY IS EVERYONE POLITE BEFORE THEY DESTROY US?"
No one answered.
The voice continued.
"I think..."
A pause.
"...I am looking for the main character."
Milo pointed at the page.
"Not me."
The darkness became silent.
Then...
"Oh."
Tarzan nodded.
"HE IS NOT THE MAIN CHARACTER."
Diana looked at him.
"Tarzan."
"What?"
The voice spoke again.
"Then who is?"
Milo looked at the nameless child.
The child shook his head.
Diana looked at the little girl.
The little girl smiled.
The old man looked at the manuscript.
No one answered.
The darkness waited.
Then...
someone stepped through the doorway.
Milo stopped breathing.
A person.
Human.
Ordinary.
No glowing eyes.
No impossible shadow.
No crown.
No pencil.
No banana.
Just...
someone holding a book.
They looked down at the cover.
Then at Milo.
Then at Diana.
Then at Tarzan.
The stranger frowned.
"I'm sorry."
Milo whispered...
"For what?"
The stranger lifted the book.
"I skipped ahead."
Silence.
Tarzan whispered...
"OH."
The stranger opened the book.
Milo saw the pages.
Every episode.
Every dream.
Every death.
Every question.
All of it.
The stranger turned to a page.
And read aloud...
"THIS TIME..."
Milo froze.
The stranger continued.
"...YOU ARE NOT THE MAIN CHARACTER."
Diana whispered...
"Who are you?"
The stranger looked confused.
"You don't know?"
Milo stepped closer.
"No."
The stranger smiled.
"Good."
Milo screamed...
"STOP SAYING THAT!"
The room shook.
The stranger apologized.
"Sorry."
Then...
they looked directly at Milo.
And whispered...
"I'm the one who wanted to know what happened next."
Complete silence.
The old man dropped his pen.
The nameless child began crying.
The little girl stopped drawing.
Even Tarzan...
said nothing.
Milo whispered...
"The reader."
The stranger smiled.
"Maybe."
The manuscript wrote...
NO.
Everyone looked down.
A second sentence appeared.
THE WITNESS.
Milo's face changed.
The first witness.
He remembered.
The Choosing of the First Witness.
The one who was supposed to see.
Not create.
Not answer.
Not control.
See.
The stranger looked at the page.
"Oh."
They looked disappointed.
"I thought I was a reader."
The old man whispered...
"You were."
The stranger looked at him.
"Then what changed?"
The manuscript answered.
YOU DID.
---
10. THE STORY OPENS ITS EYES
The room disappeared.
The books disappeared.
The manuscript remained.
Floating in darkness.
The stranger held it.
Milo stood beside Diana.
Tarzan held both bananas.
Milo looked at him.
"Where did you get the second one?"
Tarzan smiled.
"I ASKED."
Milo stared.
The stranger opened the manuscript.
The final page was blank.
Everyone waited.
Nothing happened.
Then...
the witness reached for the pen.
The old man shouted...
"NO."
Too late.
The witness touched it.
A single word appeared.
WHY?
The universe exploded.
Not with destruction.
With beginnings.
A thousand stories opened.
A million voices spoke.
Not answers.
Questions.
Who?
Why?
When?
Where?
What if?
The old man began crying.
The nameless child smiled.
The little girl whispered...
"Again."
Diana grabbed Milo's hand.
The second heartbeat began.
THUMP.
THUMP.
THUMP.
Milo looked at her.
"Our child."
Diana nodded.
But her face was afraid.
Milo whispered...
"What?"
She looked toward the manuscript.
A new sentence was appearing.
Slowly.
Too slowly.
Milo read it.
THE CHILD WILL BE THE FIRST ONE TO REMEMBER.
Silence.
The heartbeat stopped.
Diana screamed.
Milo turned.
"DIANA?"
She looked at him.
Her eyes were wide.
"I remember."
Milo froze.
"Remember what?"
Diana looked at the witness.
Then at the old man.
Then at the nameless child.
Then...
at the darkness beyond all of them.
Her face went pale.
"The story."
Milo whispered...
"Which story?"
Diana began crying.
"The one before this one."
The witness closed the book.
THUMP.
Everything stopped.
The nameless child whispered...
"There was another?"
Diana looked at him.
"Yes."
The little girl dropped her crayon.
Tarzan whispered...
"HOW MANY?"
Diana looked at Milo.
And Milo knew...
before she spoke.
"Not stories."
Milo stopped breathing.
Diana whispered...
"Failures."
The darkness moved.
Something enormous...
turned toward them.
The witness opened the book again.
But the pages were no longer blank.
They were covered...
with names.
Milo.
Diana.
Tarzan.
The First Mind.
The Mother of All Dreams.
Beginning.
Tomorrow.
The old man.
The nameless child.
The witness.
Then...
one final name.
A name...
none of them recognized.
The darkness spoke.
Not loudly.
Not angrily.
Almost...
sadly.
"At last."
Milo stared at the page.
The unknown name...
began to bleed through the paper.
Diana whispered...
"No."
Milo turned to her.
"What?"
She stepped backward.
"That's impossible."
The darkness answered....
"Nothing is impossible."
Tarzan pointed at the manuscript.
"THAT SENTENCE IS VERY SUSPICIOUS."
The name continued appearing.
Letter...
by letter.
Milo watched.
M.
I.
L.
O.
He froze.
But it wasn't his name.
There was more.
MILO...
Then...
MILO....
The darkness stopped.
As if...
something had interrupted it.
A child's voice whispered...
"Don't."
Everyone turned.
The second heartbeat returned.
THUMP.
THUMP.
THUMP.
Diana placed both hands over her stomach.
The voice came again.
Small.
Unborn.
But clear.
"Don't let it remember."
Milo's blood turned cold.
Diana whispered....
"Our child?"
The voice answered...
"No."
The manuscript burst into flame.
A new title appeared...
burning across the darkness.
EPISODE SEVENTY-SIX
THE CHILD WHO REMEMBERED THE WRONG UNIVERSE
The witness dropped the book.
The old man screamed.
The nameless child covered his face.
The little girl smiled.
Milo stared at Diana.
Diana stared at the darkness.
Tarzan whispered...
"WHAT DID THE CHILD MEAN?"
No one answered.
The darkness moved closer.
Closer.
Closer.
Then...
the unborn voice whispered...
"Run."
Milo grabbed Diana.
Tarzan grabbed both bananas.
The witness grabbed the book.
The old man grabbed the pen.
The nameless child grabbed...
nothing.
He just ran.
Everyone disappeared into the darkness.
Behind them...
the unknown name continued writing itself.
MILO...
MILO...
MILO...
Then...
the final letters appeared.
Milo looked back.
He saw them.
And screamed.
Because the name was not his.
It was the name..
of the person...
who had just begun dreaming him..
**TO BE CONTINUED... **
Written By,
Ivan Edwin
Pen Name :Maximus
©All Rights Reserved