Hello there. My name is Theo Stormhammer, and I am a pegasis pony from Canterlot. Well, I suppose that isn't entirely true. You see, I am what is known as an OC, or an original character if you will. I could tell you the life I have lived up to till now, but what would be the point? I know that any memories I have are fake and invented for me. Hell, even my very existence won't stretch past these pages and the head of my creator.
But I might as well tell you some things that I know for certain about myself. Let's see here. I am a stallion, that's for sure. I have a blue coat with a bright purple mane, which I can pull off nicely. My attire mostly just consists of a brown shirt and a dark pair of sunglasses. My cutie mark appears to be a hammer used in carpentry, I guess suggesting that my talent lies within that field of work. I wouldn't know, I already explained that most of my memories are fake. I also seem to have been blessed with the gift of awareness of my fake existence and the world around me.
Well, I supposed it could be argued to be either a gift or a curse. I mean, as much as I would love to know that my entire existence is just a lie, I believe ignorance is bliss. How would you feel if somepony walked up to you and said, "Hey buddy, you and everypony you know are just figments of some douchbag author's imagination." Well, the first thing you would probably do is back away slowly from that stallion, passing him off as some crazy pony. Well, I am that pony, and I remind myself this everyday. I've tried to get rid of these thoughts anyway I could, but living in a flat, blank land makes it rather difficult to do so.
What's that? Oh yes, sorry. I, as well as all fanfic characters, live in a flat, white abyss that seems to stretch endlessly. You see, if a character, regardless if they are OC or not, is apart of a fanfic that is not being read at the time, they get sent here. Where is here? Beats me. I don't even know what to call this place. Hmmm, well judging by the lack of anything besides the empty white space, I would have to call this some kind of purgatory. That's probably not what it's really called, but I'll stick to that name. When a character is sent here, they go to sleep, until such time that someone starts reading the fic again. If say Pinkie Pie was in the middle of baking and the reader decides to take a brake, she would be sent here to rest. When the reader resumes the story, she is sent back to baking, blissfully unaware of what had just transpired.
But what about me? Why am I unaffected by this? Well I have thought long and hard about this, and have come to two conclusions. One, through sheer and unmitigated awesomeness, I managed to break the shackles of my false reality. Or two, my creator made me this way. As much as I would love to go with answer number one, I know it to not be true. My very existence to begin with is all just a figment of his imagination. Why he decided to bless me with this knowledge, I haven't the foggiest. Perhaps he did it as a joke. If that's the case, then my creator has a bucked up sense of humor.
You see, when a character enters their story, they follow it to the end without question. If the character in the story should die, they actually die here as well. Well, not so much die. More like, just vanish from existence. If a character were to survive until the end of the story, then the same thing happens, they just vanish. But, if the story is reread, then all characters are reborn and replay the story again for the reader. They just keep reliving this fantasy till the end of time.
There are some perks to my awareness, one of which is being able to see the stories of others. Now most of the time, I am alone in this land, but from time to time another will pop into existence before me. More than likely from stories my creator is reading. But these visitors are always just sleeping when they arrive, so not much conversation can come of it. But for some reason, I can tap into their stories while they are here. Except, rather than reading the story, I watch it as if it were a movie. It's really quite fascinating. The show always begins with the title and the authors name floating in the air before me. Afterwards, I just sit back and watch the story unfold before me. Unfortunately, it always stops at some point. Probably where ever my creator left off at. Which can suck at times, because I get really into the story usually. The abrupt stop of the show tends to be followed with me shouting "Damn it creator! What in Tartarus is so bucking important, that you had to stop at the good part!?"
I know this is hard to believe, so I'll give a demonstration for you the next time somepony appe- Oh speak of the devil. Here comes somepony now... Oh goody, it's Octavia from A Puppet To Her Fame by Kaidan. I've been wanting to see how this one ends. I best get a move on before she fades away. No worries, it doesn't take long. All I have to do is make contact with her forehead and the entire story flows into my mind. Just give me a sec.
...
Well, now I'm depressed. That was a sad story. A really good one mind you, but still sad. Damn it. Why do some ponies have to write so well? Hey creator! If you can hear me in your damn brain, I suggest you take some tips from these ponies! They actually no how to write a decent story! Sigh. Oh well, I can't be to upset with him. He did after all give me life with a spark of imagination.
So, now you know my life. I'm an imaginary character living in a world of absolute nothingness. All I can do all day is just sit here twiddling my hooves until a companion arrives to share their story with me. It isn't too terrible I guess. I don't age, I don't need to eat, and my bright white surrounding are good at hiding some of my more personal habits... Oh don't give me that look! Lyra and Bon Bon's Odd Jobs 2: Frisky Fillies by Bronystories was hot! Then again, why am I even explaining myself to you?! To what end does this leave me?!
...
Well, I guess the only reason I am, is because it does make me feel real. I mean, I am actually able to have a conversation with somepony, even if I'm the only one doing the talking. I know I'm fake and that my existence will only be confined to these pages. But this is the only way I can be heard. Really the only way any character can be heard. It's a recording of our existence. Proof that we are all here. That is why I speak now. Why I'm putting my voice out there for others to read.
But I know any high I get from this story will fade with time. You see, while I am aware and therefore immune to the effects of purgatory, I'm still just a character in a story. Which means, that every time this story gets read, I am forced back into it. Just like any other character, I will act it out repeatedly for all eternity. Over time, I know words will become hollow and meaningless, and I will no longer believe in them.
I know this because I have seen it happen first hand. My creator has reread several stories over the coarse of my existence, and I get to watch them when ever he is gets to a stopping point. But every time he rereads it, I notice something with the story. The message it tries to send doesn't stick or play with my emotions as well as it did originally. Jokes seem to get less funny, deaths seem to get less tragic, and adventures seem to get less epic. The only difference between me and the other characters is that they are asleep when they arrive here. They only have to live through it once before they are gone. I on the other hand, will continually tell the same story over and over again for all eternity... Or I suppose until people stop reading it.
But I must bring up my previous point again. What is the point of me even explaining this? Why risk going through such torture? Well... Pretty much to prove to myself and everypony reading this that I do exist. That we all exist, even for the briefest of moments. Every second you spend reading the story is another second that we exist.
So I guess that the moral of my story is this. Cherish any fic you read, because we only exist until you finish.
Author's Note
Well this is just a short narrative I decided to write. I really do hope that you all enjoyed it at least a little bit. And if you didn't, then you can explain why. I don't hate criticism.
