Beware of Contracts

"It's done."  The words came from my mouth but not my mind.  As I finally began to regain control of my own thoughts long enough to wonder why I had said what I said, a voice came from nowhere, and everywhere, and boomed into the white room, "That is not what we asked you to write."

I shook my head, fighting to keep control and to keep my mouth shut.  But what was I supposed to say to this voice.  For a moment I almost wished that something else would take control of what I was supposed to say, but I finally managed to squeak out, "What do you want from me?"

The voice again appeared.  "You are part of a study on writing, remember?  You signed a contract."

My stomach dropped.  I had signed a contract that left me imprisoned in this room with nothing but a typewriter? What was I thinking?  As I sat trying desperately to remember anything about my situation, the lights began to dim, and the room became black around me.

The End

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