This time, dark but not violent. If you’re too scared to read it after that last one, I understand. 
Finish Your Stories!
By: Dementia’s Knight
My fingers danced across the keys filling the darkened room with a symphony of gentle clicking and clacking. I wrote with fervor that I only seemed to possess when starting new works, a fervor that I’m not proud to admit dissipates rather quickly once the story gets underway. Such is the nature of my creative process I suppose, though most would argue that this way of doing things is counterproductive to the creative process rather than being a cog in the works. Taking pause in my typing to take a drink of my soda allowed me to give thought to where the particular section I was working on was headed and how it would fit in with the rest of the story, and it was with these thoughts that I had to sit and think about the work as a whole.
“This is shit.” I thought to myself as I stared at the blinking vertical black line at the end of my words, mocking me with its inanimate indifference.
I reached out to the backspace key and hovered over it momentarily; deciding whether I really wanted to scrap an hour’s worth of work or if I wanted to try taking a look at things once I’d had some sleep. The clock in the corner of my laptop screen showed me just how late in the evening it was and with a sigh of resignation I moved my hand from the backspace key to the track pad and quickly saved the work in progress before shutting the lid of the computer and heading to bed.
Sometime in the middle of the night thunder began to rumble far in the distance and just before what was supposed to be dawn the crashing of the bolts was close enough and loud enough to bring me out of my peaceful slumber. As the house shaking thunder crashed outside my eyes shot open and I rolled to a sitting position in the middle of the bed. I swallowed hard as I looked around at the pitch black room, the normal illumination of my alarm clock suspiciously absent. I sighed, realizing that the power must have gone out at some point during the now raging storm outside. As I yawned and attempted to wake up enough to go find out what time it was, a flash of lightning filled the room giving me a brief glimpse of a young woman dressed in a white dress standing at the foot of my bed.
“Jesus Christ!” I screamed as I scooted backward into the headboard, my eyes trying to find the woman in the once again inky blackness of the room. I strained to see if I could make her out at the foot of the bed, but without my glasses the blackness of the room was just a blurry void. As I turned my attention from the foot of the bed to my bedside table to try and find my glasses I came face to face with the woman who had inexplicably and silently moved from the end of the bed to right next to me. I screamed and clambered to the corner of the bed, putting maybe a foot and a half between us.
“Please,” She started in a very calm and relaxed tone as another bright flash of lighting illuminated her beautiful face, “I’m not here to hurt you.” She said.
I heard her words but my panic wasn’t allowing me to fully comprehend them and I did what any normal person would do when faced with an intruder in their home, I bolted. I launched myself from the corner like I was spring loaded and tumbled off the end of the bed to the floor before finding my footing and grabbing the doorknob before pulling it open to reveal the same woman from the bed standing mere inches from me. I screamed again and slammed the door before turning back to the bed and coming once again face to face with this woman.
Lightning shattered the darkness once again and I saw that she looked to be about my age, her blood red hair flowing freely down past her shoulders. The dress she wore was pristine white, but seeing it up close she looked more like she was wearing a toga or some other similar garb. The material the dress was made of left nothing to the imagination as every peak and valley she possessed was on full display through the almost transparent fabric. She smiled when the lightning came, and it seemed as though she’d timed the action so that I could witness it rather than it happening by happy coincidence. “Please calm yourself, Nathaniel Hughes.” She said in her pleasant, lilting tone.
My heart was still racing as I tried to heed her words. “How do you know my name?” I asked her.
She reached up toward my head with both of her hands, and as another bolt of lightning came I saw that she was placing my glasses on my face for me. “I know much more than just your name, Nathaniel Hughes.” She said as she set my glasses and straightened them for me. “Now, please hold your questions until we arrive at our destination.” She told me.
I listened to the torrent of rain pouring outside and looked at this strange woman through the darkness. “I don’t know where you think we’re going, but I’m pretty sure the roads are going to be flooded.” I told her.
Lightning showed me that she was smiling once again as she looked at me with a knowing glint in her eyes. “Roads?” she asked. “Nathaniel Hughes, where we’re going we don’t need roads.” She said before grabbing my hand in hers.
The whole world seemed to lurch forward the second she took my hand and the room began to glow bright blue before the light enveloped us and we were suddenly somewhere very different from my room. As the light faded I saw that we were now in an infinitely long white hallway lined on either side with closed white doors, each of which bearing a silver nameplate.
As the spinning feeling in my head and stomach began to die down braced myself on the wall with one hand and my knee with the other as I hunched over and stared at the floor to calm my nausea. “Back to the Future?” I asked. “Did you quote Back to the Future at me before you did whatever the Hell that was?” I clarified as I regained my senses and returned to my upright and locked position.
The girl nodded and smiled. “I thought hearing dialogue from one of your favorite films would make the transport process more bearable.” She explained. “Was I incorrect in this assumption?” she asked, a profound look of concern replacing her smile.
I shook my head. “No, it was pretty cool of you to say that, but I don’t think that really has any bearing on what that little trip does to you.” I explained. “Thanks for trying though.” I added, causing her smile to return.
“You’re very welcome Nathaniel Hughes.” She said.
“So,” I started as I looked up and down the hall. “where the Hell are we?” I asked.
The woman’s smile faded and she blushed at the realization that she’d brought me to this place and had thus far neglected to explain just what the place was. “My apologies Nathaniel Hughes. This is The Lexicon.” She said.
Before she could continue her explanation I held up a hand to stop her. “Call me Nathan.” I told her with a pleasant smile before dropping my hand to signal to her that it was alright to continue.
She nodded her understanding. “Nathan.” She said with an approving smile, or perhaps one that showed she was proud of herself for pronouncing my name correctly. “The Lexicon is home to every fictional material ever committed to paper or written electronically. Each of these doors houses something that you, or rather your alter ego Insanity’s Pawn, has created.” She explained.
I stared at her in disbelief for a few moments before I began laughing loudly. “Get the fuck out of here.” I said. “Where are the hidden cameras?” I asked as I looked around for signs that I was on some sort of reality show.
“I assure you Nathan that this is not a joke or game.” She said. “On the contrary, you being here is actually a matter of grave importance.” She told me with a somber expression.
I calmed my laughter and looked her in the eyes for any sign that she was lying. “Alright,” I said. “let’s just say that I buy that we are in fact not in Kansas anymore, what am I doing here?” I asked.
“I have been instructed to bring you to The Lexicon to explain the problem that faces you, and present you to The Council.” She explained.
I nodded condescendingly. “So that makes you what exactly?” I asked.
“I am the Keeper of this wing of The Lexicon.” She said. “My sole reason for being is to keep the balance of this hall and report any irregularities or imbalances.” She explained.
“You said you were created, so does that mean you’re not real?” I asked. “Are you like one of the things behind these doors?” I clarified.
She glared at me. “I was created by The Council, but I am as real as you are.” She said with a tinge of hurt feelings in her voice.
“I didn’t mean to offend you; I was just trying to understand is all.” I explained.
Her smile returned. “All is forgiven with regards to my feelings, Nathan.” She said. “I have been instructed to answer any and all questions you may have prior to fully explaining your purpose for being here.” She explained.
I smiled at her. “Where’d you get that outfit?” I asked.
She looked down at herself and then back to me. “This outfit was chosen by The Council.” She responded. “Is there something wrong with it?” she asked as she examined her attire once again.
I shook my head. “No, it just seems a little revealing to me.” I told her. “I’d hate for you to catch a cold running around here practically naked.” I added.
“What would you suggest as an acceptable alternative?” she asked.
I shrugged. “I dunno, girls like you normally wear a shirt and jeans.” I said.
With a nod she was enveloped in a similar light to the one that brought us to this place and when the light faded her previous attire had changed to a simple black shirt and blue jeans. “Better?” she asked as she turned in place to show off her new outfit.
I said nothing but shot her a thumb’s up sign as she came back around. “What’s your name?” I asked.
“You may call me Keeper Grace.” She said with pride.
I smiled at her, charmed by her almost robotic like phrasing. “Alright Grace, tell me more about The Lexicon.” I requested.
She nodded and turned to walk down the seemingly endless hallway and I moved to walk beside her. “As I explained earlier, The Lexicon houses every idea or creation that every person since the history of the written word has committed to paper.” She said. “If we were to follow this hallway long enough we would reach the central hub of The Lexicon, and from there we could travel down anyone’s hallway we wanted.” She explained.
“So we could go down Stan Lee’s hallway and I could open one of his doors and meet Spider-Man?” I asked, my geeky excitement getting the better of me.
Grace nodded. “In theory, yes you could, but I must remind you that this is not a vacation and you are not permitted to leave your hallway until I bring you to The Council.” She explained.
I hung my head dejectedly. “Oh.” I said. “Well, can I ask questions about the contents of The Lexicon?” I asked.
Grace nodded. “You may ask any question you like and I am obligated to answer.” She explained.
“Alright, how many other writers are there that write things like what I write?” I asked, trying to be as vague as possible to avoid saying what I was implying to this beautiful woman.
She turned her head to face me and flashed a knowing smirk. “Are you asking how many other writers create diaper and adult baby erotica?” she asked.
I blushed and turned my eyes from hers and back to straight ahead of me. “Yes.” I said as I cleared my throat nervously.
Grace said nothing for a moment and stopped walking. “The Lexicon currently houses seven thousand two hundred and fifty one hallways of authors of that type of work.” She said before she resumed walking.
“Wow.” I said a little surprised at how high the number actually was. “How many doors in all those hallways?” I asked.
She stopped again. “Well over two billion.” She said.
I was pretty sure my eyes bugged out when I heard that. “Damn.” I said. “Oh!” I shouted as a new thought hit me. “How many Twilight fan fictions are there in this place?” I asked.
“Fourteen and a half billion.” She answered after another momentary pause.
I shuddered. “Gross.” I said simply. “Alright, enough screwing around, why am I here?” I asked.
“You are here because of the alarmingly large imbalance between works you’ve started and works you’ve finished. It is the feeling of The Council that you are maliciously creating worlds and people only to abuse them and abandon them like a child would with their toys.” She explained.
I scoffed. “Well, with all due respect to your beloved council, what I do with my characters is none of their business.” I told her.
“That’s precisely the reason that you’re here.” She said. “You’ve been brought here to see just what you’ve done to the people you’ve created by not giving them an ending to their stories.” She explained as she stopped outside of a door and held her hand out to her side to stop me as well.
I looked up at the silver name plate on the front of the door which read simply “Untitled #2371”. “What’s this?” I asked as I gestured toward the door.
“Call this ‘Exhibit A’.” she said before reaching down and turning the doorknob and pushing the door open.
As the door opened I saw that rather than just a simple room, the door opened to reveal what appeared to be a street. I looked at Grace who gestured for me to walk through the door, and I did as she wished and crossed the threshold followed by Grace who closed the door behind her. The sun shone down on us brightly as I looked around at this world I now found myself in, a world that I’d apparently created.
The street was lined on either side by trees which for some reason were so close together that you could barely tell there was a sidewalk behind them. The trees were white in color, and looked like an unfinished coloring book page. There were no cars on the road, parked or moving, and the street just sort of seemed to go on forever without any sign of something different on the horizon save for more street. Through the ungodly amount of trees a few random houses could be seen, but they too were completely white and looked as though they’d been designed by an architect with ADD judging by the way that they all appeared to be the same house just copied and pasted onto another lot. The street reminded me of the old Hanna Barbera cartoons where the backgrounds were on infinite repeat.
“God, why does everything look so crappy?” I asked.
Grace smirked at me. “Well, as the creator of this world I believe I should be asking you that question.” She responded.
I shook my head. “I don’t remember writing anything about some over forested neighborhood where the street goes on forever and the houses look like something a child would build.” I told her.
“Hmm, well see if that jogs your memory.” She said as she pointed past me to the sidewalk.
As I turned I saw a pair of teenager’s coming up the sidewalk, a boy and girl that were holding hands as they strolled up the path. The pair held hands as they walked together, from school if I the backpacks they wore were any kind of indication. The boy had short black hair and was dressed in a shirt and jean shorts, but his feet were for some reason bare. Despite his lack of shoes he seemed to tower over the girl by about two or three feet. The girl was a little harder to describe as her height and features changed wildly as she got closer. One moment she was three and a half feet tall with wavy blonde hair, the next she was five feet tall with short black hair like her walking partner. No matter what height she was two things remained constant, her breasts were a solid C to D cup and the boy with her was always much taller than her.
“Let’s go in for a closer look.” Grace said as she headed from the street to the sidewalk.
“Aren’t they going to wonder what we’re doing here?” I asked as I followed.
Grace shook her head. “They can’t see or hear us.” She explained. “If they could, I’d imagine she’d want some words with you.” She added.
As the pair neared us I caught sight of their heads and immediately became much more disturbed by this place that I had supposedly created. Neither of the two teens had faces, they had mouths to facilitate the talking that they were doing, but the rest of their faces were smooth and featureless like clay figures that hadn’t been finished yet.
“Where the Hell are their faces?” I asked.
“You never gave them those any feature aside than an obvious mouth for talking.” She said. “That’s the least unkind thing you’ve done here, especially to her.” She added.
As the pair neared us the girl stopped talking immediately and clutched her stomach as she hunched over. A face suddenly appeared where the smoothness had been, and a look of strain came over her and she grunted and strained loudly as the boy looked on with his new face and a look of wide eyed surprise. The girl continued to make the loudest and most obvious ‘I’m taking a shit’ noises that I’d ever heard until she finally let out a series of farts and loudly filled her pants. The rude sounds of defecation continued without pause, and both the girl and the boy stood frozen in their positions as though someone had hit them with a freeze ray.
“How long does this go on?” I asked, wondering if my voice could be heard over the sounds of this girl eternally shitting herself.
“Forever.” Grace said. “This is as far as you took this story before you abandoned it.” She explained. “This girl will perpetually void her bowels into her pants in front of this boy until you continue the story.” She said.
I turned my attention back to the pair of teenagers and felt profoundly guilty as I watched this poor girl soil herself in front of her boyfriend. “I didn’t know that these things I came up with actually became real.” I told Grace.
“You don’t appear to be a malicious person Nathan, you just seem inconsiderate by not caring what you do to your characters.” She chided. “We’ve seen what we needed to here, come on.” She said after a momentary pause.
I turned my attention away from the young couple and back to Grace in time to see her grabbing a doorknob I’d not seen before and turning it to open a door I’d also not noticed. She ushered me through the door and once again followed behind me before closing the door.
This new room actually was a room. As we entered I felt the thick carpeting under my bare feet and savored the relief from the sun heated sidewalk we’d just been standing on. The room was dark, but the sun could be seen trying to break through the curtains covering the window on the far wall. As my eyes adjusted from the brightness of the street we’d just been on to the darkness of this room I could make out a bed of some kind in front of us and some pieces of furniture nearby, but not much else.
“It’ll only be another moment or so.” Grace said, obviously noticing me trying to evolve into a cave dwelling creature to see the contents of the room.
A moment later the light’s came on and I could plainly see that we were in a girl’s room. The carpet beneath my feet was a sickeningly sweet pink and matched the color of the walls and ceiling seamlessly, making the room almost nauseatingly colorful while also making it the ugliest room I’d ever stepped foot in. The bed that I’d been able to make out was clearly a toddler bed, but its proportions had been exaggerated and it looked more like a fake piece of furniture you’d find in a Disneyland attraction rather than a practical sleeping place. The sheets were adorned with random pastel blobs that if I didn’t know that I was responsible for their creation would have made me laugh out loud at their shoddy design.
A woman entered the room a moment later making me realize that the lights had been turned on prior to her opening the door. This woman was dressed in something resembling an evening gown when she entered the room, but her outfit quickly changed to a shirt and shorts as she crossed the room to the window, and then to a robe as she opened the curtains. Her hair went through several changes in that time as well, from a disturbing smooth head to long brunette hair in a ponytail and finally to brown hair in pink curlers.
“These changes that I’m seeing are just my changes being implemented, right?” I asked.
Grace nodded. “Lack of description leaves the character without a face, hair, personality, and within this room you can see all of that as if the person were in the real world with you.” She explained. “Though every area we go to is its own world, and thus the faceless blocks of wood you created fit in as if nothing were wrong with them.” She added.
I was going to object to my characters being called ‘faceless blocks of wood’, but I was suddenly distracted by the overwhelming scent of urine in the air. The smell had come on so strong that I could hardly believe it. One moment the room had smelled like nothing at all, something that I now found odd when I actually thought about it, and the next the air was almost thick with the acrid smell of piss. It honestly smelled like I’d walked into a shipping container full of wet diapers that had been baking in the sun for about a week with the doors closed.
The woman gave an exaggerated sniff to the air before walking to the bed and pulling back the covers to reveal a sleeping girl clad in only a diaper and predictably pink shirt. The girl was lying on her stomach providing me with a clear view of her obviously wet diaper even from as far away as I was. The diaper looked like a baby diaper but was oversized like the bed and looked ridiculous rather than the cute I’m sure I’d been shooting for. The girl still hadn’t moved, not even to breathe from what I could tell, since the woman had come into the room and remained still until the woman stuck two fingers into the leg hole of the diaper to check for wetness.
“She can’t tell that the diaper is wet by looking at it?” I asked. “Or by the smell in here?” I added.
The girl stirred and rolled over onto her back, her face bearing the look of someone that had been awake for hours rather than someone that had supposedly been sleeping like they were dead a moment ago. A pacifier magically appeared in the girl’s mouth from nowhere and she looked up at the woman with something resembling a drugged stupor rather than whatever look I’d tried to describe. The woman bent down and picked the girl up with no effort at all and placed the girl on her hip despite the fact that the girl seemed to be the same height and weight as her.
As we watched the pair head over to the insanely large changing table that had appeared from nowhere, a knock came from the suddenly closed door.
“Come in.” the woman said as she set the diapered girl on the changing table that seemed to shift its size and dimensions with each passing second.
The bedroom door opened and a buxom blonde dressed in a cheerleader outfit stood in the doorway with a malicious grin on her face. She looked like a porn star that was playing a cheerleader given her ludicrously oversized breasts and the skimpiness of the outfit she was wearing. Her smile made her look like some sort of comic book villain rather than an actual person, and the whole scene made me want to smack myself.
“Oh good, your babysitter is here.” The woman who I had to assume was the mother of the diaper clad teen said.
“Wait till the squad hears about this.” The cheerleader said.
And then the three women froze in place. I felt like I was watching an old Police Squad episode as I stared at these three women held in place, waiting for further instructions as to what they should do.
“That one wasn’t so bad.” I told Grace.
She smiled at me and took a seat on the bed. “It’s not over yet.” She said simply.
I turned my attention back to the women and saw that the mother was now gone and the cheerleader was now apparently in control of the situation. The diapered girl was hiding her face with a stuffed animal that she’d conjured from somewhere while the cheerleader stood at the end of the changing table between the girl’s legs rubbing the front of the girl’s wet diaper.
“When the fuck did I write this?” I wondered to myself. “Was I high? Did I stroke out somewhere during the writing?” I thought, struggling to grasp how I could have produced such a shitty product without knowing just how terrible it was.
Loud moaning derailed my train of thought and when I looked back at the girls I saw the cheerleader with her face buried in the now naked crotch of the other girl as she licked and slurped loudly. The girl was fellatiating with such gusto that I wondered for a second if she wasn’t trying to climb up inside the other girl.
“Wow, she’s hitting that like a champ.” I apparently said aloud.
Grace cleared her throat. “Please pay attention, we’re not here for you to get your rocks off.” She chided.
Suddenly the mother was inexplicably back in the room, standing behind the cheerleader with a look of shock on her face that, in my personal opinion, wasn’t nearly shocked enough. Moving like the world had been put into fast forward mode the woman began pulling down the cheerleader’s skimpy skirt before rubbing between the girl’s legs with several fingers while also rubbing herself with her other hand down her jeans.
“How is that even possible?” I wondered as I took notice of the odd angle the woman’s arm was bent to be able to accomplish the task of pleasuring herself with her jeans still on and buttoned.
Seconds later all three women screamed in passion and bucked and shuddered like overstimulated street walkers before freezing in place once again, this time for good. “I still don’t see how that one was as bad as the other one.” I said.
Grace got up from the bed and stared at me in disbelief. “You don’t see a problem with a mother and daughter involved in a three way suck and fuck?” she asked in an uncharacteristically loud tone.
I was a little taken back by the sudden change in her demeanor and the now much more human emotion she was showing given her previous robotic nature. “When you say it like that, it sounds much worse.” I admitted.
“You’re not grasping the full gravity of these situations, are you?” she asked.
I shrugged. “I get that it must suck for these characters, but at the end of the day they’re mine to do with whatever I please.” I told her.
Grace gave me a bitter scowl. “I’m sorry you feel that way.” She said before she turned away from me and opened another unseen door and gesturing me through it.
I walked past her through the door and into a pitch black room, the light in the room I’d just left somehow not lighting up the room I currently found myself in. I turned to say something to Grace only to see the door close behind me. As soon as the door closed it disappeared without a trace. I moved my hands up and down in the darkness where the door had been trying to find some sign that it was still there but found only air.
“Grace, what’s going on?!” I screamed as loud as I possibly could.
A single light came on a few dozen feet in front of me and revealed the girl that had been soiling herself in front of her boyfriend. She still appeared to be performing that act, but now had a look of pure hatred on her face as she looked at me. A second light came on a few feet next to the lone girl, and revealed the three women from the second room each of which was staring daggers at me with looks of hatred. One after another light’s came on overhead and revealed new people all with the same hate for me painted across their faces.
“Grace, what happened to The Council!?” I screamed.
A light came on directly in front of me revealing a smiling Grace. “Oh, did I forget to mention that this is the council?” she asked as she gestured to the literal thousands of people that now completely surrounded me.
“But you said that The Council created you, how can fictional characters create anything?” I asked, my mind struggling to comprehend what was happening.
Grace smiled. “I’m afraid that was all just a ruse as well.” She said. “You see, I wasn’t created by these tortured souls, I was created by someone that felt their pain. A fan of yours decided to vent their own frustrations with you by giving your characters the opportunity to confront you, and created me to be the pretty face to get you here.” She explained.
“So, this is all just someone else’s story?” I asked. “How is it even possible that someone’s writing can do anything to me? I’m a real person!” I shouted.
Grace clicked her tongue at me in a chastising manner. “You still don’t get it, do you?” She asked without expecting a response. “Anything created in someone’s writing is as real as the person creating it, they just exist on a different plane of existence. Your fan took care of that little snag by creating a being with the power to pull someone from one plane to another.” She explained before flashing a satisfied smile and pointing to herself.
I seethed. “So what’s going to happen to me?” I asked. “Are you going to make me suffer through the same things they went through by my hand?” I asked as I gestured to the angry mob surrounding us.
“Sadly, I’m almost positive that you’d find that arousing.” She said. “That’s why the sentence is a bit more brutal.” She said. “These tortured souls are going to get the opportunity to exact their revenge by quite literally ripping you limb from limb.” She explained. “You know what the kicker is?” she asked as a sadistic smile crept across her face.
“I’m sure you’re going to tell me, you sick cunt.” I spat.
Grace made a mock pouty face at me. “That hurts Nathan.” She said. “After all we’ve been through I can’t believe you’d call me such an ugly and disrespectful word.” She told me.
“Oh, did I hurt your feelings?” I asked with mock sympathy. “Here, let me make it better.” I said before lunging at her with the idea of ripping her throat out.
Grace calmly stepped back into the light she’d appeared in before it shut off and she disappeared with it. I hit the ground hard and looked around in the darkness for a sign of her. “The little twist of the knife is that the person that created this punishment for you made a point not to finish it, so that you’d experience the torture and agony that your characters and your fans feel whenever you abandon a project.” Grace’s voice explained, sounding like it was coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. “Enjoy the rest of eternity being torn apart.” She added.
My mind raced as I heard her words, “Grace! Come back here you bitch!” I screamed. I looked around the room at the hate filled faces which were all now grinning in the same sinister fashion.
As the lights above each of my creations shut off the maniacal cackles of satisfaction became deafening until all the lights were gone and all that remained was the sound of my screams and the gruesome sounds of my punishment being carried out.
