A Fictional Reality

I had just finished the latest chapter of my ongoing novel and was getting ready for bed early because I needed to leave the house by 5:00 a.m. to visit my parents for the weekend. It was a four-hour drive out of town to their place, but I made it a point to meet them at least once a month. It was the least I could do since they adopted me when I was just a newborn dropped off at their doorstep with nothing but a sheet wrapped around me.

However, things took a strange turn when I was woken up around 2:00 a.m. to the ringing of the doorbell. Looking through the peephole, I was dumbfounded to find a woman carrying a backpack, whose resemblance was eerily similar to the protagonist of my book. She kept a vigilant eye on her surroundings and whispered into the door.

“Please let me in. This is an emergency.”

Seeing the fear on her face, I unlocked the door and asked the mysterious woman to come inside. She thanked me and rushed to the sofa. I took one more look outside and then locked the door before joining her.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Lenore. Alana, please, you need to change the direction the story is headed.”

I couldn’t find the words for a reply. What was happening?

“Everything you’ve ever written has come true. I was in disbelief when I first heard of you, too, but considering your recent announcement regarding a new WIP and the time between the events of the previous book and the beginning of my new nightmare this year, I can only assume that you’re somehow altering reality. At least for me and the people around me.”

“I… How is this even possible?”

“I don’t know, but I’m sick and tired of the endless torture you’ve been putting me through.”

Lenore opened her bag and pulled out several newspaper clippings related to the incidents. I froze while reading every line, realizing how, word for word, every single thing that I had written—all the sinister details—were indeed etched into reality.

Lenore urged me to cancel the publishing of my sequel. I told her I’d see what I could do, given that I had already signed a contract. She said she sincerely hoped I would see it through, and then left right after. Those words left a chill upon my skin as she slowly walked out without looking back.

I woke up the next morning wondering whether the events from the night before were even real. Perhaps it was all just a dream, but I wasn’t so sure. I decided to put off the matter until I got back from my parents’ house. I didn’t bring up the subject with them since they wouldn’t have believed me. Mom and Dad always said I had a vivid imagination, and that my stories were too gruesome for their taste. Nevertheless, they still supported me all throughout my endeavours.

Once I was back from my trip, I tried cancelling the sequel, but my efforts were proven futile, and I was told I would be sued if I were to back off. I had no choice but to move forward with my story. The book was published a year later and was even more successful than its predecessor. I hadn’t heard from Lenore since that night, but I wondered whether she would visit me anytime in the future. However, it was not long before grim news began to visit me. One by one, key figures connected to the publishing of my book were found dead in their homes, all killed with methods similar to the ones found in my books.

I had to meet with the police on several occasions regarding the matter. I revealed to them the events of that strange night and told them I didn’t know what to make of it. They assured me that they’d look into the matter. Two weeks then passed without any further murders, and all leads seemed to run cold. The cops said they’d let me know if there were any developments, but it looked like the case had hit a dead-end.

I was woken up again that same night, around the same time as I was before, but rather than waking up to the noise of the doorbell, I woke up to the chilling splash of ice water against my face. I jumped out of bed, but found myself facing the barrel of a gun before me, with Lenore’s cold eyes glistening in the low lamplight.

“I was a fool to place my hopes on you,” she said.

“Lenore, please! I tried to—”

Lenore didn’t allow me to finish my sentence. She pressed the cold steel against my forehead and asked me to sit back down. I complied, raising my shivering arms into the air. “Please, I had no choice…”

“Well, neither do I now.”

I closed my eyes, surrendering to what awaited me.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m not killing you.”

“What?” I opened my eyes and leaned back against the bedpost. “What are you planning?”

“To give you a taste of your own medicine.”

Before I knew it, my vision began to blur. As the world around me dissolved to nothingness, the last thing I remembered seeing were faint glimmers of red light rising from something in Lenore’s hand. When I woke up again, I was in an unfamiliar house. I walked around, inspecting every room until I found myself in shock before a mirror. My body wasn’t mine—it was Lenore’s. The next thing I knew, the front door was bursting open, and a swarm of cops stormed in while pointing their guns at me and demanding that I get on my knees.