Sun shining in the night.

I was created a week ago. Or at least, I think. It’s not so easy to keep track of time when you’re just a character in a book. Especially when your creator second-guesses every single thing He writes...and keeps re-writing just about everything. 

Have you ever had your own free will taken away from you by someone who’s supposed to cherish you? If the answer is yes, then you can imagine my entire existence.  

For what I know He started this book a week ago and we’re still at the first chapter. I mean, I’m not even one of the main characters, I’m like a side dish no one ever really eats. I’m supposed to be one of the protagonist’s best friends...there’s four of us. And our lives revolve around Micheal.  

Two days ago, his name was Lucas...now that’s my name.

Right now, I’m lying on the patch of grass in front of Micheal’s house, staring at the midnight sky, exactly where He left me. I think He fell asleep at his desk again. I wish I could talk to someone. Shout to Mike to come outside, so maybe I could see his pretty face. Wait, what?! Pretty face? ...this has been happening for a couple of days now, started right around the time He switched our names. Something’s gotten into me, and every time I see my best friend I start feeling like a 13-year-old boy with his first crush. I’m a man of 28 for goodness’s sake. Honestly, I’d really love to know where He’s going with this. It’d be much easier to guess his intentions if He managed to stick to his decisions. Just this morning my hair was russet brown, and now it’s purple. Like: what?! What is going on in that head?  

Oh, good He’s waking up. I can see Him in the back of my head. Aaaand He’s gone... 

Where does He go, anyways? At least the view is pretty, He’s not too bad at describing things.  

 Two days. It's been two days. He kept me waiting on that stupid patch of grass for two days.  48 hours. This brat! And when He finally started to write again...He started on another scene. I don’t believe Him. Is this tool even real? Has He ever written a book before?! What am I doing walking up and down a museum?

Oh, that’s right: I’m waiting for Mike.

I’m pacing up and down the same room. He’s making me pace. He says I’m nervous. I have to tell Mike something. I have to tell him I’m in love with him. Woah! Hold on! What? No, no. Stop! This is a bad decision! Oh dear...Mike just walked in the room. We start talking, and our voices sound so very distant to me. I think I’m having a panic attack, and He doesn’t even notice! I’m stumbling on my own words...this cannot be happening. It’s a nightmare. He doesn’t love me, please don’t make me say it. But I can’t stop the words coming out of my mouth in a rush. And next thing I know, I told my best friend I’m in love with him.

I think this is how it must feel to watch a movie: you’re right there in the story but you don’t have power over it. Why do people even like movies? How can you like something that decides for you? But what the hell do I know? I’m just a character in a book after all. 

I’m crying...that’s okay, I really do feel like crying. Micheal left me right there.

You know, for a moment, there was something in his eyes that made think he might feel the same way, but I guess He didn’t see the same thing I did. I wonder: what is gonna happen to me now? The whole story revolves around Micheal...surely, I will not have the courage to see him again? Am I done for?

I was right, it’s been sometime, and I’ve basically abandoned my group of friends. Too ashamed to show my face now that everyone knows what I feel for our Sun, as I’ve come to call Mike lately.

He really is the Sun, you know. All I’ve been doing doesn’t feel real without him. Nothing ever feels real unless the main character sees it, or someone reads it. None of our other friends tried to contact me. Apparently, He has turned me into a pariah.  

He’s made me kill time by doing things I really didn’t want to. Like getting a tattoo: it was an angel at first and then He opted for some sort of mermaid and then He decided I didn’t need a tattoo. I mean, I had to go through the whole process twice and I happen not to be good at handling that type of pain, or so He decided, and then He just, woops, deletes it. What a real life asshole!

I’m lying right next to a naked girl right now, and I have no idea what’s going on. I get up from the bed and take a look in the mirror. 

 I want to scream, but I can’t! All of my cries are silent. And all of my swearing too! I am a woman now.

What the hell was wrong with me being a man uh?  

My hair is so much longer and so blonde. Great!  ...I’m a blondie.  

Oh no... I look like a barbie, and why the hell do I know what a barbie is? 

‘Hey doll’ says a gruff voice behind me. Oh... my... God. 

It’s not a girl anymore! That’s a man...a huge man. A brute, with a nasty scar over his eye. Oh no...no! Get me out now! Please, I don’t wanna be here. What nightmare be this? You hooligan!  

Aaa, why do I speak like this. There has to be a- 

Oh...okay this is better, I’m outside. No more mirror, no more scarred brute.  

Wow! Is this Paris? Whatever the hell is going on here... 

Why does He keep changing everything?  Does He have no faith in himself?

At least now I’m walking down a lovely road. It’s a sunny day...no wait... it’s night...what the- 

I’m in a desolated tiny street somewhere in the middle of Paris. How do I know that? Escapes me!  It’s a dark night. And I am a man again. I can tell from my hands.

My hands which are holding a bloodied knife... there is blood everywhere. A man is lying at my feet, he’s saying something. I can’t hear him; I’m spiralling in my own dark abyss. What have you done to me? Am I a monster now?  

Time moves too fast. What am I doing? I’m saying something, it doesn’t sound like me. This isn’t the voice you gave me in the first place. 

‘You had it coming Jonas’  

No...no!  Jonas was one of my friends. No, this isn’t me. I wouldn’t kill a friend. I wouldn’t kill anyone. Or would I? I don’t know anymore. 

 I turn to see my reflection in a shop’s display window. Who have I become? I’m dressed in black head to toe...no more purple hair for me. No more colours for me.  

If I could only tell Him what He’s actually doing to me. He created me, and now He’s tearing me apart. It takes Him but a second, and I wish I never even existed. I’m running. I’m running away from what I’ve done. What He had me do. He says I’m satisfied with my work. He says I’m mad with rage, because they excluded me. Because Mike rejected me. It’s not true.

Hey, I’m still here. I’m still Lucas. Purple haired Lucas, with the soft smile. The man that fell for his best friend...please...please see me. Please go back to where you started. Please see that I was good enough. It’s okay to have a boring character in the book. I’ll be your boring character. Just please...no more hurting friends. 

Time passes. My story line is broken. He doesn’t know how to handle me...this little brat. He put me on a roller coaster and now He doesn’t know how to get me off this hellish ride. The time He’s spent writing about everyone else in this book, I passed in front of a mirror. Looking at myself. Waiting for Him to need me again. 

Is my hair turning orange!? But...oh no you don’t, you little sh- 

I’m draped in colourful silks...I can see my reflection in a golden goblet. My hair is tangerine orange. I’m laughing. Am I happy? Wait...is that...but no, I don’t believe it! It’s Mike. I’m with my friends again. Have I told Micheal I love him? Why has He brought us here? And where is here, anyway? I’m scared...but the goblet in my hands is filled with cherry wine. And my senses are becoming dulled. It’s not long before I’m in a blissful state, joking and laughing. I feel like Dionysus. Beautiful, heart breaking Dionysus. I don’t think these are my words...but then again, I don’t think I’m thinking anymore. I'm slipping through my silks like a river through rocks. Will I reach my own ocean, I wonder? Does it matter? Does He even know where I’m going this time?  

I’m walking down a beautiful corridor. Everything is beautiful here. Maybe it’s the wine talking, but He’s out done himself this time. It’s all made of lucid marble and gold. I can see my reflection everywhere. I look like a God! A fire-hair God...I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore.  

Before I know it, I’m in front of the doors to Mike chambers...I don’t think his name is still Micheal. But it doesn't really matter. Nothing really matters anymore. I’m in a hedonistic mood, and I don’t even know what that means.  

I would be scared. I know I should be scared, but He’s taking over. I open the huge doors with little to no effort...maybe I am a God after all. And Mike, my Mike, is there waiting for me. I don’t believe my eyes... the blue silk wrapping his body brings out all the beautiful colour in his tanned skin. His hair is longer, honey blonde just like I remember it. It hits me then: it must have been years since I last saw him. This idiotic writer kept changing things so much, years have passed. And now everything is different again.

Micheal loves me. I can see it in his eyes. Will He deny what is clear to me this time? Will He take away our dream so that He can write his sorry little book?  

But to my happy surprise, when I move closer to him, Mike doesn’t move away. Has He gone mad? He’s describing our feelings for each other, but He doesn’t know anything. No writer could conjure up into words how this truly feels. I’ve bled on His paper for years, waiting to be more than just a character He dimmed useless. Praying that He’d regret his decision of turning me into a monster. And maybe it’s His idea, maybe I have no choice, but I have waited so long to see my Sun’s face again, this feels like pure ecstatic bliss. He smiles against my lips as I kiss him, and I know that I don’t care whose feelings I’m experiencing now: my creator or my own. My non-existent world is perfect right now. And in my own madness I beg that He’d leave us here. That He’d forget about us, about this book, leave it on a counter, throw it away. Render us eternal in our non-existing world. Never changing. Forever happy. Together for the rest of our implausible eternity. He gets us to the bed; He says we’re drunk in love. I say He’s right. We stay entangled all through the night, and the morning never arrives. I have all the Sun I need right here with me. Surely this must be the famous haven humans dream of. Our creator says we’re talking freely. He doesn’t know...He doesn’t know but He just broke our chains. We’re real and we don’t need anyone to read about us to be real. No need for Him to continue writing. No need for us to know what happens next. We will be forever here, talking to each other, intertwined. My soul woven into his, the same way the stars are woven in the fabric of the sky. My prayers have been answered: He forgets, throws us away. We are free. At long last we are free to be lost in our own fictional world, where the night never ends but the Sun is always shining.