Free writes

(1) I stand there, in the fields, eyes glazed over, unable to move or even breathe. I can only stay completely still as I witness the lives happening before me: lovers walking the paths together, groups of people around campfires. Sometimes, people will be in danger. They’ll find me and shake my shoulder, begging for me to come help. But I can’t. And I hate it. I’m supposed to be the hero, the one who fights the evils of the world. But instead I can’t. All I can do is stand there and watch as they try to fight back, and eventually fail. Until one day, I suddenly gasp for air, and I can move again. Thank the gods, the Player has finally returned.

(2) People often ask me how I want to be remembered. If I need to be honest… I don’t really care, as long as I’m not forgotten. Good or bad, it doesn’t matter. I’d much rather be an urban legend than a victim to the sands of time. Maybe that’s why I do this. A sorcerer who can bring writings to life, in ways unimaginable to the human mind… That sounds like a fun legacy, don’t you think?