The Possessing of George

It is with great devotion, that I vow to you, the reader, that I will soon get underway with the telling of the story.

And I too, will help by adding scenes from other locations in order to further the plot in a most...thought-provoking manner...because I am your most dutiful servant...You cannot be serious! Who wrote these things?

Just shut-up and read. We have to get through this.

No! I will not read these damn cue cards. I will tell it how I think it should go.

But we've completely lost the characters...And the cue cards were written by the author himself.

Yes, and the author is the enemy! Aren't you following along? He placed us in these circumstances on purpose!--Like some kind of a social experiment! Like a tremendous joke, and we're the bloody punch line! Now he wants to make us look like dorks by giving us these cue cards. I have a better idea. We'll just describe the hell out of this place until we find them! I will begin.

The garden was dark beneath the pallid moon and...hey, it's night. I did not say the sun went down!

Not doing so well are you?

Hold on. I hear something.

There was a muffled sound coming from the pea pods at the back of the garden. It sounded like the scratching of ancient claws on an old wooden plank. The sound came again and the wind blew in response, rattling the wrinkled leaves on the gnarled oak tree and causing a haunted whistle to emerge from the corn stalks...

Yes, they're hiding behind the pea pods, pretending to be the supernatural. Look, we're not going to find them this way.

Shush, I'm curious. And besides, this could be part of the plot!

This is not a horror novel. And you, my friend, are certainly not the main character. Let me take over. Description is no way to find a character. You'll be at it all day with your similes and metaphors. I have a better idea. It will be certain to find them.

George padded down the hallway, over the plush carpet with bare feet, his nightgown swishing with the light air that drafted gently down the hall. He had a message for Edward. It had come from the coroner. He'd discovered something important about the body.

George had had a rough day, grieving for the death of his wise old Master, and adjusting to the idea of Edward being his new boss. He didn't like the idea at all. Edward was shifty and suspicious.

George paused outside of Edward's door and then, out of a sudden impulse, he decided he'd slip in without knocking. He could excuse himself later because he had the urgent message with him.

He moved soundlessly through the dark and then froze...

The room was empty. Eerily empty. The bed had not been touched, its coverings pulled tightly around its plump shape. George moved forward, scanning the shadows with flickering eyes.

"Where the bloody hell are the two main characters!" he cried out in frustration...Then he covered his mouth with a gasp. "Oops," he mumbled.

YOU idiot! We'd almost got a hold of the story again! Sure, you created a new character as a ploy, but he was on the right track! He could've solved the whole mystery, put the main characters in jail, and been done with it.

George was momentarily stunned. His voice had echoed through the room. Why had he yelled such a strange thing? And what was he doing in this room? He had no right to be here. Master Edward was only just taking over the household, and here George was, sneaking through his room in the dead of night!

Hello? What are you playing at?

George looked around. Something was wrong. Something was seriously wrong.

What's wrong? What is it?

Suddenly there was a rush of air and the breath was knocked out of him. He hit the floor with a thud, a tremendous pain lit up his spine, and the world went black.

AH! What the hell is going on? Erm...Reader? Yes, I know, I shouldn't address you so forwardly. But I'm in a bit of a bind. It appears that the story has taken a strange turn. Do not be alarmed. All will be discovered and our faithful character will be restored to health in the next installment of...Erm...

When George awoke he was strapped to a chair, with his shirt tied around his face. He couldn't see a thing, but he knew his vision was twirling. His head hung forward, and there was an awful ache at the back of his neck. He straightened up and in doing so, discovered just how tightly he was bound. There were indents in his wrists and ankles, and an unbearably heavy pressure was tied around his stomach. He gasped for a moment and then moaned.

"George, my friend," said a cool, familiar voice. It was Edward. "You have plenty of explaining to do. And I don't want the typical answers. I don't want you to tell me that you have a message from the coroner." There was a light yet humorless chuckle. "Oh yes. I know of your little disguise. Poor, innocent George. He's come to deliver a message. And yet he slips into my room without a sound, like a criminal. Like someone spying on me."

George felt a strange sensation in his stomach. He nearly hurled, but instead, he groaned, regaining his voice. "I don't have any answers for you," he mumbled.

"Well think really hard. Do you remember what you said before I knocked you out cold?"

"Um..." George thought really hard. He knew there'd been something peculiar about the situation. He had cried something that hadn't made sense.

But George wasn't about to tell the wicked man anything about the strange thoughts in his head! Oh no! He was ready to admit that he was mentally unstable and in no condition to give away the whereabouts of the narra--I mean,

George was a simple man and had always been very loyal. He had done nothing wrong and didn't have a clue why he was being interrogated by Edward.

"Oh, George...Wake u-u-up." Edward's voice was laced with an icing of acid, and George jolted to a start.

"Release me and I'll show you to the man behind it all," George mumbled, as if from a dream.

Edward was silent for a long while. "Now that wasn't so hard, now was it?" Edward finally said. "A little cooperation never hurt anybody."

...And then the wicked man laughed and laughed and...yes, it sounded very frightening and maniacal. It sounded almost like he was laughing at everyone listening. Including me. And you. Yes, that's right, you.

The End

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