The Ipliers Interact (p.12/fic)
The Author screamed in pain, gagging at the sight of his own blood pooling around him on the floor. He took a quick assessment. No exit wound and he couldn’t reach the hole on his lower back to apply appropriate pressure. A hopeless injury. He slammed his fist into the ground.
“No… NO! My story isn’t over! I WRITE MY OWN STOR- FUCK!” His back arched up off the ground as a wave of pain flowed through him. He panted, out of breath from the toll the bullet wound was taking on his body.
He glared up at the ceiling, sweat dripping down his face as he lay sprawled across the floor of his “study”. His fingers ran through the blood around him, forming small patterns and swirls on the rotted floor.
The ringing in his ears from the previous gunshot got louder, blurring his vision with a thumping migraine. He swore he could even feel the floor thumping.
“I don’t deserve to go like this. I have too much left. This is not what I had planned. I didn’t write this.” The Author breathed heavily, his ears ringing louder still from the gun.
“It’s a shame to see a large personality, such as yourself, deduced to this withering pile of flesh.” A voice echoed throughout the small room.
The Author froze, turning his head slowly to see a shadowed figure standing in the dark corner of the room. He narrowed his eyes, a spasm of coughs racking his body and filling his mouth with the putrid taste of blood.
The figure stepped towards him, the single small light source in the room seemingly bending around him. The Author sputtered, letting blood trickle out of his mouth as he stared at the somewhat familiar face.
The man before him was smartly dressed, a sort of bemused smile etched into his features. He kept his hands clasped behind him as he slowly sauntered forward.
“It’s sad, isn’t it? Wasted potential… Pitiful endings…” The man stopped forward, the tip of his shoe stopping at the edge of the huge pool of blood. He sneered at the mess, crouching down and turning The Authors chin towards him.
“Who are you?” The Author sputtered. The man gave him a look of annoyance, his face twitching at the small amount of blood coughed up by The Author, now on his hand. He narrowed his eyes and tore them away from his hand, glancing down to the blood on the floor.
“Read your own work. You asked for me, after all.” The Author allowed his eyes to drift down to the floor where the man had been looking. Four words had been clumsily written out in blood.
‘Dark enters the room’.
“D-Da-Darkness. It was supposed to say darkness.” He sputtered, letting his head fall back. Although he couldn’t remember writing anything, just shapes, he knew what it was meant to say.
Dark shook his head in annoyance, forcefully turning the mans head to look at him.
“Regardless. I’m here now. And the point still stands. Your story isn’t over. I have a… proposition for you.” Dark smirked down at The Author, relishing in the sight of a soul so broken.
The Author took a deep breath, hacking and choking. “What kind of proposition?” Dark cocked his head to the side, staring down at him in disgust for spattering more blood onto his hand.
“A simple one. I save your life. Bring you back. Good as new. But you have to help me with what I ask. You assist me in my endeavors. I can see you would be a useful ally.” He raised an eyebrow, holding the man’s attention. The Author began chuckling, much to Dark’s dismay, sputtering and coughing through his pain, managing to spit a significant amount onto the hand that held is chin in place.
“Nobody owns me.” The Author chuckled and allowed his head to fall from Dark’s hand. Dark simply stood, stepping over The Author to where he was looming over him.
“That’s a shame.” Dark pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped the undesirable blood from his hand before tossing it to the side forcefully. He leaned down and pulled The Author up slightly by the scruff of his shirt.
“I’ll guess I’ll just have to make you see things my way.”
Daniel and Ryan had continued running through the dense woods, away from the man who had terrorized him. They only stopped once, briefly. Only at the sound of an ear splitting scream from the place they had escaped from. They never turned back.
