Reality in Fiction

How would I make Julius suffer?

"Zara," a feminine voice echoed through the hallways of my home, "Uriel is here to pick you up from school."

"Okay mom!" I replied.

I placed my pencil between the pages of my red notebook, then closed it and slid it into the worn out sack I called my backpack. I flung it over my shoulders, the weight pressing down on and straining my back muscles. I ran out of my room, flicking the lightswitch as I did, then barged down the stairs and through the front door. Outside I was met by Uriel, holding up his hands as a kind of half-assed wave.

"You are late again, Zet," he said, "if you continue like this we will get in trouble."

"I'm sorry, Yu," I said, "I was writing again. Well, sort of writing. Thinking about writing with a piece of paper in front of me."

“So you have no new chapter for me to read?”

“Nope.”

“Truly a shame.”

“I want something bad to happen to Julius, but I have no idea what or how exactly, so until I’ve figured that out I won’t be able to write.”

“Why are all your stories so sad and depressing?”

For a moment I thought about how I should formulate my answer.

“It’s to show readers the darkest parts of life in a safe context,” I answered, “so that they can more effectively deal with the bad things in their actual lives.”

“And with ‘readers’ you mean Sea, Dee and me, correct? And Oh and Em as well.”

“I’ll get a bunch of additional readers when I publish my novel!”

“If you ever finish it. Anyways, hurry, class starts soon.”

We ran towards school, arriving in the classroom on time, be it while panting and with aching knees. I glanced around to find Delilah and Cindy, nicknamed Dee and Sea, and saw them waiting for us.

"Cutting it close again?" Dee said, "If I were Yu, I would've stopped waiting for you a looooong time ago."

"If I stopped picking her up, she would miss school every day." Yu said.

I wanted to defend myself but before I could get even a single word out our math-teacher entered the room, forcing all present to fall silent.

"We will begin by discussing exercise 38…" He began.

I tried to focus, but outside of my control his explanations turned to white noise, unimportant background information, as my mind wandered to the far-future planet where Julius and the puppets resided. The puppets were dead, so what should happen? My thought-process was interrupted by Dee, who leaned over to me and Yu and whispered:

"Zet, Yu, wanna hear some puns about math?"

"I-I thought they were really funny!" Sea added, "So m-maybe you'll like them as well."

"Yes!" "No."

Me and Yu said simultaneously.

"I can always 'count' on you for some good puns, so please tell me!" I whispered

"Focus on class!" Yu said.

"Don't be such a killjoy." I replied.

Killjoy. Killjoy. Killer of one's joy. An idea began to form in my head. I opened up my notebook and began writing.

-

"The sound of cheering permeated the coliseum. The shouts from this ocean of voices were as overwhelming as the crashing of waves from a stormy sea on the rocks of a steep cliffside. The object of spectacle, a man, or what looks like a man, stood helpless as two of his comrades, who might as well have been his family, were ripped to reddish-pink shreds by large reptilian monsters. Yet, while observing this heart-wrenching display of cruelty and violence from his front row seat, the only reaction Julius could muster was a bored yawn." These were the first words written within the notebook. They held a description that matched yesterday's battle. Julius continued reading.

""Are you not enjoying yourself, sir?" A somewhat chubby man, clad in purple robes and holding a small tablet device, asked. "If there is anything you wish for me to add, I could-"

"It’s fine, Theo," Julius said, "Fine. It's just... look at this. The whole point of these battles was to make the people seriously contemplate death and violence, yet, after only a few years of using the puppets, I’ve already become desensitized. I just do not care anymore…"

He gestured to the cheering audience.

"... and neither do they,"" the notebook read.

"Z-48 had this?" Julius asked.

"Yes sir." Theocritus answered.

"This is not a part of your twisted performance?"

"No sir, of course not."

"Then explain to me how a puppet had access to a private conversation between us!"

"I do not know, sir."

Julius flipped further through the story.

"“But isn’t that sad for the puppets?"

“It is not, because they don’t have a soul.”

“What is a soul?”

Julius was visibly taken aback by this question. He stuttered out a few ‘uhm’s and ‘oh’s before expectantly looking over his shoulder at Calpurnia." It read.

"This- This is impossible!" Julius stammered, "Even in my own home, a conversation with my own son!"

Suddenly, a terrible curiosity befell him. He began frantically moving through the text until he found it. "Suddenly, a terrible curiosity befell him," the text read, "He began frantically moving through the text until he found it. "Suddenly, a terrible curiosity…"

Julius averted his gaze from this infinitely repeating phrase, coming to the understanding that reading his present would just lead to eternal recurssion. Instead, against his better judgment, he flipped to the final page of the story, hoping to see the story's end. "Despite his attempts to prevent it, Julius's sword was now coated in the blood of his son," it said, "he had killed the joy of his life."

Julius slammed the notebook shut, his mind dazed from his attempts to comprehend what he'd just read.

"Theo. For the last time, did the puppet truly write this?" He asked.

The chubby man simply nodded in response.

"Does anyone else know of this notebook?"

"No sir."

"Archive it as a classified document, and never speak of this again."

"Of course, sir."

And so it was done. Of course it could never completely leave his mind, but with the notebook locked away, he could live out the rest of his days in denial about his discovery.

Thirty years passed.