My Master Is A Fictional Character

I breathed heavily as I shifted my chair backwards, I stared at the screen of my laptop with satisfaction. I'm a writer and yet again I just completed another exciting book of mine, and yes I feel really proud.

Now all that's left for me to do, is to visit the publishing house and make this book known to the world. But first I would have to visit the cyber cafe.

Well, I better get to it... I definitely would love to treat myself to a fancy dinner after I get everything done. This is just something I do, after completing a book.

I saved my files, put off my laptop and then tuck it away safely into my laptop bag. I hung the bag on my shoulder, put on my headphone and left the room and also exit the house.

I got on my bicycle and rode away, I do have a car but I also enjoy riding a bicycle. I just love the energy that comes with it. You see, driving a bicycle do require a little bit of strength and agility and that gives me the required adrenaline that I need.

The cyber cafe wasn't that far from my house and so in twenty minutes I already got there, I got my work done and in no time I was already heading for the publishing house.

Now this is where it all start, my weird unrealistic story starts here. While listening to the music playing through my headphone, and definitely singing to it and minding my business.... I came across a burial function. My eyes caught a glimpse of the supposed dead lady in the picture frame and there was something about her, that felt so familiar... really familiar.

I shrugged the sudden feeling I was having and continued my ride to the publishing house. Although I did shrug the feeling off, but that feeling was still strongly hanging around me... but I just ignored it.

Once I was done in the publishing house, I followed that very path where the burial was taken place. Unwillingly I parked my bicycle and got down from it.

Involuntarily I was standing right in front of the casket, my eyes taking in every detail of her face. She looked really familiar, her blue long hair, flat nose, plum lips, round face with a little touch of freckles.

My eyes got bigger in size as realization hit me, this lady right here has the same description of my character. My eyes scribbled down to her name in haste, ANNA STEVE, that's my character name.... That's my character name!!.

Anna Steve lost her parents at a very young age, went through the most tragic life anyone could ever have, worked as a bartender and then... as a stripper. This is the very same exact life character Anna Steve had before I killed her last week. I think I should add that I killed her in my imaginary world of writing.

But I'm probably over thinking things, right? There's no way that whoever is in this casket is my fictional character right?

"I can't believe she's dead, it's real shocking you know." A red hair who is a complete stranger mutters standing next to me, In front of the casket.

"Yeah it's sad indeed." I replied nodding my head, pretending to at least know the deceased. If my weird thoughts are correct then I really do know her.

The red hair breathes out heavily, "Her life was the most saddest, and it's just too sad that she couldn't have her happy ending before she died."

I turned to stare at the red hair with uttermost curiosity, the word *saddest* kept on ringing in my head repeatedly. "What do you mean saddest?"

"Well her parents died while she was still very young, she lived in an orphanage, got adopted by a lot of couples and finally she ran away when she couldn't take it anymore. Then she worked in bars, worked as a stripper in clubs. Should I add that she got raped 5 times by most of her clients in the clubs she worked in, and at the end of it all she never got her happy ending..... instead a death she doesn't deserve. She was involved in a car accident."

By the time the red hair was done talking, my hands were already shaking, my body was in complete black out. My character Anna Steve, had the same life as what the red hair just said, it was like hearing someone else narrate my book that hasn't even being publish yet.

"When... when.... When did... did she die." My voice came out trembling, the words having a hard time coming out.

"Last week." The red hair answered simply.

This has got to be a joke right? Last week? I killed my character last week, Anna Steve died last week! No, this is a dream.. my character isn't really alive, right? It has to be a dream!

With disbelief embedded in my eyes, I ran out of the burial function... got on my bicycle and rode away.