"You are my creator, but I am your master; obey!” – Mary Shelley (Frankenstein)


And yet, we are now more than ever infatuated with the realms of the unknown, the invisible. Something that lurks in the still darkness of isolated lanes. The deafening silence, the silent noises and thousand steps on the deserted roads. This was the upheaval currently surrounding Robert's mind. He was after all the most celebrated, distinguished author of the decade. For Robert, his characters were not just words on a page, they were very much alive. He saw them everywhere- in cafes, tea stalls, heavily crowded markets and at his abode. Some turned out to be exemplary pieces of fiction, some were lost while flipping the pages. It wouldn't be wrong when one says that Robert Jade's characters made him what he is today and vice versa.

He was used to constant glances, some giving him appreciating looks, some trying to ignore his intellectual gaze and every now and then seldom condemning looks. You must be wondering why. Robert took pride in mercilessly killing the protagonist of some of his works, a character reader usually associated himself with only to find his motionless body on the very next page. It was hard blow. This didn't deter Robert much as was clearly reflected in his condescending smile. These days, he was basking in the glory of being a world-famous author. Not to mention, the never-ending beeping of credit messages of his royalty fees.

This time, however, something was different. Words failed to make sense. Robert's fingers and mind didn't work in synchronization. Hours turned into days and days into months. No idea germinated, no words typed. Robert dozed off during the days and didn't sleep a wink at night. This never happened before. Robert never knew what a writer's block was. He knew something had to be done before matters got worse. He prayed for a miracle. He left a silent request out to the universe. Anything for an idea, anything at all. With this, Robert in his disheveled state snoozed off.

The next morning, sun shone brighter than usual. With the first sunrays infiltrating the room, Robert woke with a childlike energy. It was THE IDEA. He headed straight to his study table and switched on his laptop. He didn't want to miss even a single word. He wanted to write it all down. It was like a fountain of golden words heading straight towards him. This was a brand-new world and Robert wanted to take it all in. His plot, his characters, his creation, his baby. He was the master. He has re done the endings of all major horror classics in his head a hundred times. For him, horror was not just a genre, it was gothic, it was dark, it was evil. In his works, there was heart wrenching tales of victims assaulted by dark entities and he subtly hinted towards victory of evil over god. His audience- the youth. Youth who started to take sadistic pleasure in the slow and traumatic death of a simple guy. Robert loved the glory. He didn't have the slightest idea of the secret pact he had made with the universe would lead to his tragic fall.

In a slumber like state, he relentlessly typed. He typed night and day. He stopped eating, drinking and sometimes breathing. There were hallucinations. All characters of his world-famous works visited him. Some wickedly smiling at him, some with eyes red with fury hurling fangs all asking him the same question- Why did you kill us?????

You murdered me!!

You hanged me to death by falsely accusing me!

You drove me to suicide!

GO AWAY!!

Shut up! You are all voices in my head. You are nothing without me. You are just a word on a piece of paper. Totally worthless. I gave you a name, a name people will always remember. The voices came closer, some with blood-stained clothes, some with lifeless eyes. This out worldly, soul draining episode made Robert insane. It was as it like Victor running away from the monster, he created no matter where he went, the monster wreaked havoc.

Robert couldn't take it anymore. How dare all these voices. I made them. People love them as I birthed them.

At a distance, he could see Ellie- the ghost of poor girl who was toyed with and killed by some boys. She never got the closure. In the story, she never got the justice. She was stuck in the limbo. Robert could see her floating body. She was ethereal. He wanted to touch her. The same way those boys did. He was being coaxed. It was as if somebody was drawing him near her. Most of his characters were in the air asking signaling him to leave. He gestured Ellie to wait. Her white lobe adding to her charm.


He wrote the last line:

AT NIGHT THE FOG WAS THICK AND FULL OF DARKNESS, AT TIMES VOICES!!

Before he joined Ellie and disappeared from 45th floor of his high storey building.