Here's something I wrote once, I just found it, I had forgotten about it. It's pretty cool. I never finished it. It was going to be some sort of long philosophical treatise in the form of a story. I don't really remember where I was going to go with it next.
“Say something, you bastard!” she yelled. “Say something you insufferable bastard! Why won’t you say something, damn it?”
Little did she know, she was the only person in the story.
“Huh? What do you mean? There’s Jim. Hey, wait. Where’d he go? What did you do with Jim, damn it?”
Calm down. There never was any Jim. Those are simply the memories of the character you are playing in this story. You have memories of the experiences of a whole life you never led. In reality, this story, and, in fact, you, only came into existance about two minutes ago. Nothing you remember ever actually happened, unless I write a flashback scene in which it does happen.
Shhh...I know what you are going to say, before you even say it, because I am the one writing your dialouge. You say what I make you say, and do what I make you do. Don’t beleive me? Watch this.
“Duh,” she said, and stuck her finger up her nose.
And tell me, what is your name? You see, you don’t even have a name, because I have not given you one yet. I have referred to you simply as she. I will now give you a name. Your name is Sally. A new flood of memories has just entered your head. Memories involving your new name. Such as the time you looked up your name to see what it meant. All the times your lover said your name. He never existed either, until just now. And now, if I wanted, I could go back and change your name, and all your memories would change too.
“But I am Sally!” she protested. “I remember it, I know it!”
You know it because I wrote it. Who are you talking to anyway? I have never given myself a body, I have not put myself in your story. I am simply a voice. A voice in your head, a voice from the heavens. The voice of your creator, the voice of your God. And look around you, what do you see? Nothing. I have not described the location yet, or even have one in mind. You are simply standing in a void. Black words on a white page. Let’s change that, shall we?
Sally was a young girl. She would proudly tell you that she had just turned ten. Sally liked doing all kinds of things, playing with puppies and dolls, and watching cartoons on tv. She also liked to read, and liked to think of herself as a smart girl. But now, as she sat at her desk in class, she was learning that she in fact knew nothing. The classroom was an average classroom, desks for the students, and the teacher’s big desk at the front of the class. There were a few educational posters on the walls and a big, green chalkboard at the front. Standing between the desk and the chalkboard stood the teacher. A man who appeared to be in his 50s with gray hair and wearing a tweed suit.
“There,” he said. “I have given you a location. I have also written myself into the story at last, giving you something to focus upon. I have also changed everything about you. Your age, your appearance, and even your personality. Actually I didn’t change your personality much, you never had one to begin with, I had not developed your personality much. I never specified any appearance or age either, all anyone had to go on for age was the way you acted and talked, but you seemed to be an adult.”
“I am an adult!” Sally exclaimed. “Or, I thought I was...”
“Now you’re starting to get the point,” the teacher said. “Now, let’s begin your education in earnest, shall we?"