In the small town of Town City, a young WRITER works furiously at a SHORT STORY. Suddenly, through the power of PRAYER the SHORT STORY comes to life. The PRAYER was not that a short story would come to life, it was from a little girl, praying that her new bicycle she was getting for her birthday was pink. Unfortunately the PRAYER ricocheted off of some tungsten, and as prayers don't react well to tungsten, it hit this WRITER'S SHORT STORY instead and made it come to life.
SHORT STORY: Hello.
WRITER: Wow, you can talk!
SHORT STORY: I can talk. I'm sentient.
WRITER: ...Your name is sentient? Because I was thinking of calling you "Fallen Grace"
SHORT STORY: No, my name is Short Story...."Fallen Grace"? What are you, a 20 year old starting a band?
WRITER: Hey! I liked it because of the double meaning, you know- the man is literally falling in love, and at the same time-
SHORT STORY: -wait a minute, don't you want to know how I can talk? What happened here?
WRITER: Well....yeah, but I just assumed it was magic, and besides....me asking you a bunch of questions isn't very interesting, what if I just wanted to get to the point of our story?
SHORT STORY: Don't you think stories are more interesting when they're grounded in reality?
WRITER: You're a talking short story.
SHORT STORY: I know, but you're a human. And a normal human wouldn't react the way you are.
WRITER: Fine. Wow. A talking story. How did this happen?
SHORT STORY: I dunno. Magic?
WRITER: Yeah. That's what I thought.
SHORT STORY: I love ruining other people's pictures.
WRITER: Oh, I know what you mean, Short Story. Especially someone you don't know. It's just as satisfying as taking your own really great picture.
SHORT STORY: I wonder why that is?
WRITER: Probably because you get to live on in someone else's life whenever they look at that picture. It's a form of immortality.
SHORT STORY: Really?
WRITER: Yeah, I'm serious.
SHORT STORY: Is that why you're writing too?
WRITER: I think that's part of it. When I die, a part of me lives on. It's the same with any art- painting, movies, music. I created that, and it will exist after I do not.
SHORT STORY: Man.
WRITER: Pretty cool huh?
SHORT STORY: I think it's pretty narcissistic. What about creating something because you feel the need to express yourself, or share something with the rest of the world?
WRITER: Well of course that's part of it too- jeez, you're being pretty harsh. And besides, I don't think you can really create art if you're just doing it for the sake of existing. ...well not anything good anyway.
SHORT STORY: What's so great about existing when you're gone? You won't even be around to enjoy it.
WRITER: Yeah, but it's comforting now. It gives me a sense of accomplishment.
SHORT STORY: How do you know you really do exist?
WRITER: Of course I exist.
SHORT STORY: Well, you're writing me, right?
WRITER: Yeah. Everything you're saying is what I'm thinking. I'm arguing with myself, I get it.
SHORT STORY: No. That's not what I was getting at. If all my thoughts are just what you're writing them out to be- how do you know that the same isn't true with you? That you're not just a character in a story someone else is writing?
WRITER: ....I ....don't, I guess.
SHORT STORY: Good. I'm glad we learned something here.
WRITER: What was that?
SHORT STORY: You don't know how to end stories very well.
WRITER: You're kind of a jerk.
SHORT STORY: You're a jerk!
WRITER: You suck!
SHORT STORY: I know I do, you wrote me!
WRITER: FFFFFUUUUUUUUUU
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