Create a new version of paste:

Alexandra woke suddenly and sat straight up in her bed. Looking at the clock, she realized that she had overslept. Again. Sighing heavily, she rose to her feet and proceeded along her morning routine. 

…  

I won’t bore you with the details, dear reader. However, something strange happened this morning. Alexandra seemed to look at me. It was for only a moment, while she was brushing her teeth, but it was apparent that she was looking at me. Perhaps it was just in my mind. 

Finishing her routine, Alexandra walked outside, started her car and drove to work.  Little did she know that, tonight, something extraordinary would happen.  

…

Well, I’m not going to spoil it, you idiot! You’ll have to keep reading to find out. Dolt.

Alexandra pulled into her driveway, greeted by the same empty house she has been returning to for the past few years now. She was a pretty young thing, barely out of college and stuck at a dead-end desk job at the business firm her rich uncle had started. Long brown hair, enchanting green eyes…

…

No, I don’t admire her. I’m just trying to make her seem interesting! Oh, am I interrupting again? Sorry.

Wait… I think she sees me! Honest-to-God, I think so! She’s walking over here! How is this possible?

“Hello?”  

… 

Dear God, she does see me. Amazing. 

“Excuse me, sir? What are you doing?” 

…

Her melodic voice echoes in my ears. My hands are still writing, but I don’t know what they write anymore. In all of my years as a scribe, this has never happened…

She invitingly smiles at my curious stare. 

“Sir? Are you okay? What are you writing?” 

“Hey! Say something!” 

Her words became harsh and threatening. 

-Scribe’s Note- 

I dropped my pen and pad and ran for it. I apologize, dear reader, for my failure to deliver this story. It was going to be so good... However, I did find her writings about this mishap on my pad after its recovery. Apparently there was some sort of incident involving Alexandra, and the Scribe Corporation was able to recover my pad. These writings follow this note…

…

I don’t know why I’m writing this, or what’s going on, but I saw this weird guy standing in my yard, writing on a pad and looking intently at me. I tried to talk to him, but he just got this strange look on his face and then ran for it. I tried to go after him, but he seemed to vanish. Anyways, I found his pad and pen. I should read through everything he had wrote down…

He had been watching me this morning?! I thought something felt off, but I didn’t know a man had been in my house! He knows my name! How terrifying! He was recording what I did as if I was some character in a novel… And what is this about something “extraordinary” that’s supposed to happen tonight? Ha! Fat chance. My life is about as ordinary and boring as it could be.

I guess this story about me was meant to be read. This “scribe” does refer to a “dear reader”… Well, I suppose I ought to address this rambling writing to you, “dear reader”… What a joke. Who would want to read about me, right?

Well… I guess you do. You seem to care. If you've been reading this crap this far, I guess that you must have some investment in this story. My little, incomplete story. 

Or maybe you’re just some sick pervert who just wants me to write some more so you can get off in some weird way…

At least you’d still care. My own parents want nothing to do with me, and I can’t find anyone to call my “significant other,” or whatever people call their partners nowadays… I’m just a sad, pitiful organism on this sad, pathetic planet. 

So, I guess since you've read this far, you might as well know my whole name. Alexandra Elizabeth Gardner. It’s kinda generic, I know, but hey, what can you do? 

I feel so silly right now, honestly, writing this stupid, one-way conversation down… I know I should still be horrified or disgusted that some weirdo was in my house and knew my name and all of that jazz, but… I’m a little excited and, well… Happy. I haven’t felt happy in a while. I mean, someone actually noticed me and tried to tell a story about ME. It feels amazing, really. 

And YOU! “Dear reader”… You seem to care, too! Oh, my gosh… Maybe you actually fucking care about me! That would be incredible! I think… I think I care about you, too, reader… I don’t care who you are! You could be whatever, not even human, but I think I LOVE YOU! I just wish you could answer somehow… I have no idea who this is story was meant for… Children? Adults? Teens? … Well, maybe I’ll stuff this pad in a box and mail it to “Dear Reader”… MY dear reader… 

…

I think I’m losing my mind. Of course there’s no one in the world named Dear Reader… But you must be there, my love! Wait… What if… No! It can’t be true! What if this isn't real in the first place? What if I’m just writing this down at the command of some writer?
NO. I must be real! I must be! I have feelings and emotions and thoughts! I love you, reader! PLEASE ANSWER ME! 

…

-Scribe’s Note-

The following morning, a police report was filed regarding Alexandra. It reads as follows:

“3:30 AM, several persons in the vicinity of the home of Alexandra Elizabeth Gardner called the station complaining of screaming and other strange noises coming from the household. The doors were all locked and there was no signs of struggle or tampering of the locks. Miss Gardner was found in her bedroom, with multiple wounds from a knife covering her arms and hands. “DEAR READER” written on the wall in the victim’s blood.”

Further police reports confirmed that Alexandra had indeed committed suicide.

How do you feel now, “dear reader”? This was all your fault. I was merely a bystander to the horrors you unleashed on poor Miss Gardner. In fact, your reading of the words in this story is what sealed Alexandra’s fate. They would've never happened if you had not read them. All she wanted was your love, your affection. You couldn't even do that, though, could you? 

Remember, “Dear reader”. Remember that words have no power to change anything, unless they are read. BY YOU.
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