A New Perspective (prologue)

Once upon a time...well....I'll just start from the end...It's easier that way. Simply put, my life was just an accident. No, not an accident waiting to happen, but really, I wasn't supposed to be. Exist. Breathe. Nothing. Actually, I was just someone's figment of their imagination.
So, starting with the ending. They shut my world- that's right, just shut it. I was in an abyss of black nothingness. It was actually a nice change from the usual chatter of the squirrels and the useless conversations that repeated themselves in various voices over and over again. But then time started stretching, stretching so far that it couldn't have been thicker than a strand of my aging hair. I was soon afraid that my world would no longer open into the bright daylight as it so often had. Fear, or whatever that feeling that creeps deep in your gut and crawls around is, was trying to find a nice place to rest, but never did. From there, it didn't get much better.
Of course, I managed to free myself from the terrible emptiness of my life...otherwise whoever is writing this somehow got into my chaotic mind and is reading my thoughts as I dictate to this shadow of myself...Thankfully that is not the case in my already confusing and circitious life. No. I am not my own, but I wasn't bought with a price like the humans in some stories claim to be. Ok, well maybe a price of $3.50 at the local used bookstore, but does that count as the price of living? Obviously that would be negatory, because if that were so then I wouldn't be writing down my terrible past in order to live tomorrow. The more ideas I have, the longer I can exist. And when those ideas dwindle down to a measely drip from a faucet -well- I choose not to think of that. One would say my life depended on it- those ideas...if I had a life to lose.
If I were to have written this before the covenent was made, my clusters of words that some would call a story would be even more confusing than they already appear to even my untrained eyes. At the moment, I have no gripping plot, no character to sympathize with, and I am most definately lacking a substantial setting in which to place my tenuous story. In fact, if I were some stranger to myself there would appear to be no reason for me to continue reading. Yet I have no choice. I must keep writing. Forever. And for those whose souls are brave enough to endure this ongoing rampage of words that may or may not mean aything -well- they just might be the very ones who give me life.
I am by no means advocating that anyone but God can create a living being. But that is the very issue I write of. Life. As I have mentioned before, I was a figment of the imagination of some lonely man sipping coffee in a tonwhouse and I simply "popped" into his mind; for no reason that is clear to me. But there is a reason- I know that for certain now. This is the beginning of which I chose not to mention in the opening of the story. I fear that those lucky minds and souls who have life will deny the reality of my existence in this ever-changing world. No, I was not bought with a price. I had no value, I was worthless. But I changed that. I made a deal. And it is with that covenent that I can live, and it is due to that deal that this story continues...