I dare you to read this entire story

I dare you to read this entire story.

Now, if you have accepted this dare, you have just become a character in my story! For my story starts with someone accepting a dare. Welcome! You can jump to the next paragraph. If you have not accepted the dare, however, then we have a problem, because the story cannot start without you. Maybe I am not persuasive enough, or maybe you are just too stubborn! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you; after all, it’s in your nature… Oh, it isn’t? Then why are you still in this paragraph? Just accept the dare already… Still here. Just too proud, perhaps? I can respect that. After all, why should you abide the commands of a stranger? Let me propose you a deal: I’ll start the story in the next paragraph and keep going from there; however, the story will be finished in one final line at the end of the text; therefore, if you don’t read that line, technically, you won’t have read this entire story, and yet, we will have a main character. I think it’s a fair compromise and we both get our way.

“And so, our story starts with a certain someone accepting this dare. A round of applause for our hero!—Bear with me, they like the spectacle.—We have a fine audience today.” The spotlights flash and you find yourself in the middle of a circus plaza, next to me.

“Letters and paragraphs, sentences of all sizes… lengths! Yes. Excuse my language. We all come to life today thanks to our hero here, the mighty reader! Thanks to this person’s brainpower we come alive, we take shape, and we make sound. Our hero is mighty indeed, for all of you, letters and paragraphs, will cease to exist when this person I’m pointing at with my finger just so pleases… or gets bored or something. Even I, narrator; I know you think of me as all-knowing… and I am, but my prowess with words is only fuelled by our hero’s desire to keep us alive.

We haven’t heard your name yet.” I turn to the audience “And we never will!” Now I’m back to you “Because communication here is one-sided, and thus, we have decided unanimously—I have—that your name is to be hero.” The crowd cheers. Letters jump up and down, they do sound like a crowd cheering, which you find very odd since letters lack mouth; but it is true because you can hear them. They adore you and are excited to see what will happen next. I whisper to your ear “I know that sounded a little mean, the whole ‘we choose your name, we don’t care’, we do care, but we really can’t hear you” I confess to you with a grimace. “I’m sorry” I apologise. (You didn’t need that clarification, let me fix it) “I’m sorry” period.

Tired of praise already? Makes sense, you were here for a story. Now, I hope this doesn’t disappoint you, but I don’t have many words left, so it will be a short story. What kind of, you know, genre would you like? I know you can’t answer, I’m just teasy now. Let’s just leave the circus tent and see what’s out there. It could be some medieval fantasy world and we could go explore it. I could even stop being a character and actually narrate. Maybe it’s Victorian London: everything around us is grey and smoky, everyone is upset and in a hurry, and a kid tries to sell us a newspaper. Maybe it’s just Russia. What if it’s Russia? I don’t know Russian. I really hope it’s not.

And so, we exit the tent. We are on a piece of land in the void of space. You are surprised, or not, one of the two. And then I reveal you my hoax “I knew it wasn’t Russia, I was just being dramatic.” Then you notice we are in the void of space, even though I said that a while ago, and you realise we are still breathing fine. That is because this is a story, and we can do whatever. All of a sudden, the piece of land precipitates, as if it was the fastest elevator to ever exist. Let me check how fast it was… So, I couldn’t find the speed, but it is one in Seoul. There is one in China, and they also claim it is the fastest, but I wouldn’t trust china if I were you; it goes from 1^st floor to 95^th in 42 seconds. I could calculate the speed, BUT THAT DOESN’T MATTER NOW BECAUSE WE ARE PRECIPITATING very fast TO OUR DEATHS! You and I kneeled on the ground, our hands to our heads, panicking. I’m actually fine, but if I didn’t scream with you it would look weird and it would shatter the immersion for you.

Our platform comes to a halt when it fits in a hole the exact same shape on a typically American backyard. You and I unharmed. And the event takes a twist when I tell you that this typically American backyard where we just landed is my house. No way! I can afford a house? You don’t find my joke funny, but we don’t spend too much time on that because my children come out of the house, and they are exactly how you imagined: they look like children. And you thought there were two of them. My wife is at the porch with frowned expression. This whole thing is becoming very uncomfortable, we don’t know each other at all and you are already meeting my family? You see, hero of our story, my wife is a character, and she is not self-aware, so she doesn’t know you are the only reason she exists in the first place. Now, we can’t convince her of that, she will just not understand it, that’s her character trait, just like yours was being stubborn… and a hero. But you are polite, so you leave the house, and we cease to exist.

There is no final line.