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Fantasy Run-On Sentence

While she read the paper, I took out another sheet and wrote another sentence on it:

Suddenly, Heather decided to stand up, then sit right back down again, for no immediately apparent reason.

I handed her this paper too the moment I finished writing it, then dug around in my jacket's pockets. Maybe I still had it with me...
 
I felt this mild tinge in my legs and stood up as Vince handed me another piece of paper. I gazed at him with a puzzled expression before reading it, "Suddenly, Heather decided to stand up, then sit right back down again, for apparently no reason."

I rolled my eyes and looked Vince dead in the eye. "Very funny. Will you stop joking n-" I trailed off, realising that I was actually sitting back on the floor... Just like he had written.

I was speechless for a moment, "Um okay... So you just wrote what I did." I shrugged. That wasn't right, was it. He wrote it and gave it to me BEFORE I acted. I bit my lip as I looked at him for another moment, before letting out a high sigh.

"Okay fine, you're good at predicting a person's action. Or better yet, it's some silly coincidence."
 
"Found it." I pulled out my notebook, where I had been writing down plot ideas for Heather's novels over the years, and handed it to her, opened to just a few days before she left her world. I had only just started planning what was going to happen following her latest ill-fated movie - something I was now regretting, considering she was standing right in front of me. I decided to watch her actions this time.
 
I took the note from Vince, not really know what to expect. Was it his diary or something? As I went through it, I couldn't help but notice a feeling of familiarity. There was a lot of writing that was scratched out, but equally as many which seemed to be linked to another event. My eyebrows furrowed as I realized that these were events from my own life...

"H-How did you..." I furiously ran through some of the content. My past. My first kiss. My first break. There were things in here that I hadn't told anyone. I choked up as words failed me. This was crazy and horrifying. He had every single detail of my life right up the shoot. I shut the book, not wanting to read any further.

"What is this?" I asked, my voice not louder than a whisper. "Are you some deranged stalker? Hm? Some sort of a reality show joke?" My voice grew louder as I felt anger boil inside me. In truth, I didn't know what to make of it. My heart was racing and to be honest, I was hoping he'd say yes. I stared at him, my face pale as I waited for him to answer. Is he with them?
 
I winced as she became angry at me. I probably deserved some of that. Maybe I should have told her earlier. Maybe. "Come on, Heather", I muttered. "Piece it together. I'm a writer, my typewriter broke, and then you appeared here." I looked away again, unable to face her. "Usually it's not a problem. Everybody leads separate lives, and everyone's happy. But sometimes there are... exits, and, well..." I tentatively try to look back at her out of the corner of my eye. "I've always tried to be considerate, you know. Some of them they're just, they're just sadists. People look down on us as a result. It's not a glamorous profession. It's not... it's not like your life."
 
I stared at Vince as he explained the situation. I felt so broken and used. I mean, sure. The life of an actress was not all glamour... But turns out all I was was a character. Did that mean nothing was real? I felt my anger sustaining, growing even. Blaming Vince wasn't going to get me anywhere, but I felt like he was using me. Oh wait, he WAS.

I stood up and brushed off my legs, "These are my actions though. And so is this," I said before slapping him against his cheek. I blinked for a second, that WAS my action. He had no say over it... Right?

"Sorry... I was just testing it out. Your theory... It sounds too ridiculous for me to believe." I mumbled, rubbing my palm. Geez, I hope I didn't hit him too hard. But you know what, he deserved it!

... Okay maybe not.
 
"I deserve that," I muttered as I rubbed my cheek. I meant it too, in a way. It's not like I had ever given much thought to the actual person who owed her life, her memories, her entire existence to me. In many ways, the character she played was still more real to me than the person itself. But even now, faintly flickering in and out of existence as she was, she felt more real than ever before, and it was impossible for me to deny that.

At least she wasn't having the breakdown I had feared. Not yet, at any rate. "We need to get out of here," I said, trying to sound stronger than I felt. "I think this is where they were planning on taking you. It can't be good for you. We need to find another exit." I looked around, trying to find any definite shapes around me, but the only solid point of reference in sight beside myself was the door we had just come through.

An idea struck me, and I tried to meet Heather's eyes. "You wouldn't happen to see anything... special, about this place, would you? Being a... being more perceptive than me," stopping myself just short of saying "being a character".
 
Anger boiled within me with no limits. I mean, how would you feel if someone you barely know walked up to you and said "Hey, yeah so you're not real. And I'm your da- creator." That is beyond frustrating, annoying and hardly believable.

"You wouldn't happen to see anything... special, about this place, would you?" He asked, "Being a... being more perceptive than me," I squinted at him before raising an eyebrow. It was beyond pointless to argue with him right now, and I couldn't see myself storming away since, well, there was NO WHERE to storm to.

"Umm," I looked around. That's when I noticed that there seemed to be something like outlines around... objects? I don't know, there was nothing when we ran in here.I tried to focus on the edges that I was seeing, but I couldn't make heads or tails out of it. "I don't see anythi-GAAK!!" I jumped as I blinked at Vince. He seemed... sketchy. And I meant that in a literal sense.

"Why do you look so undefi-" I gasped as I looked down. It wasn't just Vince that looked like a sketch. I looked like I was a character work in progress. Oh hell no. This isn't happening. "Uh... Vince? I think I'm being drawn out of existence," I squawked.
 
Vince felt panic rise in him as Heather mentioned him lacking definition and quickly looked down at himself. But no, he still looked just like before. Was that just an illusion? Or was Heather's vision... affected?

I turned back to look at Heather. "Look, I... yes, that's probably true..." I was feeling the small reserve of cool that had given me the courage to rush into this room fading. I was starting to feel scared, not just for myself but for Heather too. "I think this is where they, where they usually take people... like you. But you're special. You're with me. And..." I looked around at the near-empty space, at the half-drawn lines, the faded ghosts wandering through here... and it hit me. "And I'm a writer."

I bent down and grabbed the book Heather had thrown away, flipping it to its last page, and began to write. If I had written out her life until now, there was no reason I had to stop now.

As Heather's eyes adjusted to her new environment, she found that she could see better. Shapes filled out, shadows blended in... and right in front of her an exit from this prison materialized.
 
(I am so so so sorry for this, but OCD got to me and I want to leave a proper finish to this. You may ignore this xD)
(Also, hi! it's been ages, and you probably don't remember me. But this is one of my most favorite pieces I've collab'ed on so far, so thank you for the experience~)

My mind wasn't ready to fully grasp what was happening. A guy that I just met was telling me that he was the reason for my existence-- not like in a genetic way; more so that he wrote me into being. That was entirely not plausible, yet here I was, in a strange place, reading my life, as if it was written out for me... No, as it was written out for me. My brain might as well have exploded from this new piece of information but I had no choice but to trust Vince's words. It seemed my life depended on it, literally.

I held my breath as he scribbled furiously on the back-end of his book- My book. Vince's form was getting more solid with every second, and I noticed, so was mine. With a flash, a door popped right in-front of me, a big sign on it screaming "Exit". I looked at the door, then at Vince, there were so many unanswered questions, I wan't ready to leave yet. Heck, I just learnt that my actions aren't entirely my actions! I needed answers first.

"Wait," I said. Vince ignored me as he scribbled more on the page, I couldn't make out his handwriting any more, but it was clear that he was running out of space.
"Vince, wait, I need answers!" I cried as Vince opened the door. A bright light shone from the other side, brighter than the white surrounding we were already in. I peered to the other side, but all I could see was light. If this is my last few moments, I don't wan't to end this way. I need to know if this is real... If I am real. I was formulating the right question to ask, but it seemed that I had no time to get them out.

"Wait, Vince. No!" I screamed as he pushed me towards the door. As my body crossed the door's frame, I could feel myself being pulled into the other side... Or was I falling?
"I need to know if I'm real," I cried, tears welling in my eyes, but I wasn't there long enough to hear Vince's reply. I could see he was saying something, but I'll never know what it was.

The last thing I saw was Vince's face as it morphed into the bright light.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vince...
"Heather, wake up!"
Hnngg...
"We're done for the day, I need you to confirm your schedule for tomorrow." A familiar voice said, shaking me to wake up. I shot up and looked at my manager's face, confused. "Pam?" I said, confused. My hand shot up to my face, surprised at the tears that fell down my cheek.
"Where's Vince?" I said, standing up and looking around. "I was in an office... There was a door, s-something about a typewriter?" I held my head and groaned.
"Vince? There's no one here named Vince. Were you going to meet someone?" Pam started at me as if I was crazy. Maybe I was. I phased out of our conversation as I tried to piece everything together.

Was I real?

"Listen, cancel everything for tomorrow," I said, not looking up,
"What?" Pam asked, bewildered, "But the sho-,"
"I don't care about the fucking shoot, just cancel it. I need some space." I shut her down before chasing her out of the trailer. Changing quickly into my regular wear, I dashed out of the set, ignorant of the cries of the crew and the director, demanding an explanation.

"I'm... Just having a breakdown," I lied, "I'll be back on set next week."
Of course, the paparazzi had a field day because I never went back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

A month has passed since the incident. I keep trying to convince myself that it was just a dream, but it felt too real.
Real... I don't even know what that is anymore.
I was told by someone that I was just a character, something written into existence. Well I beg to differ. For all I know, I dreamt him up and he was a character I created into existence.

I quit the projects I was working on and recently moved to a new city. I had other skills from acting, but I needed time to decide on what I wanted to do with my life. Let me rephrase that, what I wanted to do, with my life. If the life of a once-famous-now-troubled actress was what was written out for me, I was determined to change that. I was going to prove that my life was in my own hands, and I would do things my way.

I looked up at the clear skies ahead as I walked down a new road, in a new city, starting life anew.
"Well V, I am going to prove you wrong. I'm as much a real person as you are, and I am going to show you that.
We may never cross paths again... But I'll show you," A tinge of sadness hit me as I chased a person who I didn't even know existed. Who was real? Who was the created? Maybe I was wrong and it all was just a dream, and my sudden awareness was a consequence of it.


Whatever the case may be, I was determined to take hold of my destiny. Because no one can write my life for me, except me.
 

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