Author

A fifteen-year-old girl, the Author, always felt the world around her was just a rough draft, a sketch that could be changed with a single stroke of a pencil. She spent hours in her drawings, creating entire universes, but never imagined that one of them would consume her. It all happened on an ordinary Tuesday. The Author, sitting on a bench in a shopping mall, completely surrendered to her drawing, so much so that she felt reality beneath her soften, like wet paint. The world around her sank, the sounds of footsteps echoed off invisible walls, and a second later she was here. Backstage greeted her with the familiar silence of an abandoned or closed shopping center—a terminal space. The Author stood in the middle of the empty mall, rubbing her temples in realization. Her gaze, usually attentive and searching for new plot twists, was now filled with confusion. "Well, great." She said, and her voice immediately echoed across the empty spaces. This was definitely not the end, but only the beginning of something new. She wasn't terrified to the point of numbness. At fifteen, the Author had already managed to experience thousands of stories in her head, and this place seemed familiar to her, as if she had once drawn this level without realizing it. The Author began her journey. She didn't run like prey, but walked, carefully studying the textures of the walls and the shadows cast by the corners. She felt like this world was a giant draft, abandoned by someone else. Her bag contained only pencils and a notebook, which had now become her only means of survival. When a strange, distorted figure appeared from around the corner, one of those creatures from behind the scenes, the Author didn't scream. She narrowed her eyes, analyzing the creature. She didn't scream. "You're just a bad sketch," she said coldly, not out of malice. The girl felt the reality of Backstage bending to her will. She took a pencil from her bag and began to draw imaginary passages that immediately appeared before her. She was curious to see what lay behind the next doors of this unreal world.