The Birth Of Stories (1)

I had never wanted anything else in my life other than to create stories, and read them.

Due to my illness I was forced to spend my whole life in a hospital bed.

Cold, desolate and empty.

Lonely yet comforting.

However that comfort often made me feel as though it was eating everything in my body, as though I was being forced to be "comforted" by that loneliness.

Otherwise I'd go insane.

My only escape were webnovels or books.

When I was six, during my early days at the hospital, my mother brought me a book. She handed it to me and said.

"This lonely life of yours, you don't have to bare it alone.."

The first book I ever read. The comfort to my loneliness, and the beginning of all my tragedies.

Starting from the first chapter, I watched as the protagonist go on towards his journey. Meeting new comrades, struggling, enduring hardships that seemed impossible to overcome.

All kinds of emotions flared up inside me.

I was happy during their celebrations after defeating an enemy.

I was sad when one of their comrades died.

I was glad when they finally overcame one of their hardships.

It felt as though I was going on a journey along with them.

However all stories come to an end. A story that doesn't have an end, isn't a story after all.

My hands shook as I read the last chapter.

I should've been glad. The characters in the story could finally have their happy ending. They didn't have to struggle anymore. They didn't have to watch as another one of their friends dies. They could finally go do the things they wanted in life.

'And they lived happily ever after.'

A sense of betrayal came crawling down my spine. They left me.

I was finally reminded as to why I was reading this story in the first place.

A realization, that I was indeed lonely.

_

At that time, I cried in the arms of my mother. She comforted and told me that I could just read another book.

"Eventually a story will end, and we can't do anything about it. You, me, one day we will also wither and our stories will end."

"However that doesn't mean we should feel sad about it. Think of it like this, since our lives are so limited, we should just do the things we enjoy, alright?"

She said as she handed me another book.

"Happy birthday, Ivaim."