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I was sitting down on the cool, hard surface of a rock overlooking a large drop-off into a forested valley below. My feet were dangling effortlessly over the edge of the cliff. My fingers were drumming against the side of the rock. My mind was swirling with thoughts.

I wanted to gaze at it again. I wanted to ponder it's existence again. I wanted to find out how I was put in this horrid place and why... for about the fifty billionth time in my life. But I didn't. I kept my arm twisted the other way so I wouldn't catch sight of the inky-black tattoo that haunted me day in and day out.

Peals of laughter sounded from behind me. I turned and watched in amusement as Teyla, her red hair flying about her dirtied face, and Wesley, cameo bag in one hand and a magnifying glass in the other, scrambled around in the dirt after a runaway lizard. Obviously Wesley wanted to add the fleet-footed reptile to his collection of gadgets so he could study it.

Typical Wesley. I shook my head, a smile tugging at my lips.

A soft breezy wind played with the golden strands of my hair, causing it to tickle my face and ears.

Reluctantly, I heaved myself off of the rock and brushed off my pants. "C'mon Teyla, we'd better get back or Auntie Steph will start worrying about us. We've been gone all morning."

Teyla opened her mouth to protest but was suddenly cut off a loud screeching sound that rumbled throughout the air and shook the ground upon which we were standing.

"Oh no!" I whispered.

It was the Author ... and he was opening up our story, ready to began his writing for the day.

"We gotta go, now!" I grabbed Teyla's hand and broke into a run, heading for home. It had never seemed so far away.

"Hold up!" Wesley howled from behind us, tripping over himself in his anxiousness to catch up.

I skidded to a halt, an undiscerning Teyla slamming straight into me.

"Watch it!" she cried, a hand flying to her forehead.

"Wesley!" I yelled. "Get your butt over here, right now! C'mon!"

In a blind panic, Wesley, his arms full of the numerous bits and pieces that were continually falling out of his bag, tried to untangle himself and get to his feet.

The screeching sound became louder and louder. An unnaturally bright light began pouring in from the outside world as the leather cover of our story was slowly lifted up. Several stones loosened from the rocky wall where I had previously been sitting and bounced noisily down the canyon.

It wouldn't be long now.

A bunch of large sturdy oak trees lining the edge of the nearby forest began to shake, the ground beneath them cracking and giving way to the roots that was rapidly rising up towards the surface of the earth.

CREAK.

One of the trees began to careen dangerously to the side, it's shadow falling over a still-flailing Wesley.

"Wesley!" Teyla screamed, her voice piercing my ears.

Suddenly everything seemed to freeze in slow motion. The screeching stopped, a deafening stillness filled the air. The loud rumbles beneath the ground immediately came to a jolting halt, causing the floor to be still and level once again. Everything stopped shaking around like dead, weightless leaves. Not even the tinkle of a pebble being displaced could be heard. Only silence.

I gaped around me, confused and astonished. What the actual hell is going on? My feet felt glued to the ground. I was frozen in place. Every limb and fibre of my being felt stiff and unusable.

This never happened.

When the Author opened our book, he would always began writing straight away. A steaming mug of coffee would be sitting by his elbow, sending it's aroma throughout the pages. The scratch-scratch of his ink pen would sound clearly throughout the air as the tip of the pen's point flowed across the clear, transparent pages.

Whatever he wrote was what we had to do, even if it meant killing someone we loved. Once that book was opened and his pen was moving across the paper, we, as the characters, had no choice but to do his bidding. We couldn't control ourselves or our emotions. They were all controlled by him. And that was the worst part of it all ...

I shuddered, sudden tears stinging the inside of my eyelids. I screwed my eyes tightly shut, trying to block out the images, the screams that flooded my mind. But I couldn't do it. No matter how hard I tried not to think on it, no matter how many times I tried to resist the Author ... it didn't work. He just put me through more suffering.

I won't even began to tell you how many times I've looked into a victim's eyes and begged, internally, for their forgiveness ... right before I would kill them. I could barely live with myself. In fact, if it weren't for Teyla, Wesley, Daniel and dear Auntie Steph, I would've undergone the same fate as the previous protagonist. I would've thrown myself off of that cliff a long time ago.

"Hayley!"

I was abruptly snapped from my reverie by the sound of Teyla's worried voice. She jerked a thumb up towards the sky, which was now open and clearly showing the evil, twisted face of our Author.

"We need to hide before he sees us! C'mon!"

I still couldn't get my legs to respond, though, so Wesley and Teyla literally had to drag me towards a large rock nearby, behind which we found refuge.

As I slumped to the ground and tried to clear my mind, I shook my head, trying to figure out what on earth was going on. The Author never hesitated in his story-telling. He always knew exactly what he was gonna do ... which is why this was such a surprising occurance.

"Hey, take a look at this!" Wesley hissed, his eyes fastened to his binoculars.

"What is it?" I demanded, raising my eyebrows at him.

"This is so unusual," Wesley mused, shaking his head and completely ignoring me.

"Aw, c'mon, give me those!" Teyla ripped the binoculars from his grasp and peered intently through them. "Oh my God!"

"What?" I whisper-yelled, getting increasingly annoyed and frustrated. "Here, just gimme the damn thing."

Teyla, her eyes and mouth wide o's, slowly extended the binoculars towards me.

I plucked them from her hand and lifted them to my eyes. What I saw made me reel in absolute shock.

The Author wasn't writing our story. Instead, he'd laid the pen to one side and had cupped his chin in one hand, seemingly deep in thought. He shook his head and sighed deeply, the fingers of his other hand tapping impatiently against his leg.

Just then, the door to his office flew wide open, admitting one of the Author's manservants.

"Sire!" the servant exclaimed breathlessly. "You won't believe who's just come through the gates!"

The Author rolled his eyes, looking extremely disinterested. "Who?"

"It's Lord Mattingham, sire," the servant told him. "He's demanding to speak to you at once!"

The Author quickly swivelled around in his chair, a look of horror on his face. "What? In here? He can't come in here!"

"It's already too late, sire, he's coming towards this room as we speak!"

"Why didn't you tell him to wait in the sitting room like everyone else?"

"I tried too, sire, but he wouldn't listen."

The Author heaved a deep breath. "Very well. You may leave now."

The servant bowed and hurriedly backed out of the room.

Loud footsteps sounded down the corridor and no less than a few seconds later, a man, whom I presumed to be Lord Mattingham, burst into the room.

"What is this I hear?" he boomed authoritatively. He was dressed in a garment of plush purple material and a broad hat that sported a feather placed upon his head.

"I - I'm sorry, Lord Mattingham?" the Author repeated, pretending to sound completely confused. "What would you be referring too?"

"You know what I'm referring too, you snivelling little bastard!" Lord Mattingham sneered, spit flying out of his mouth as he took a menacing step towards the Author. "That you're presently abandoning the story?"

I couldn't help the gasp that erupted from my lips as I heard this statement.

"Chamberlain wants your book finished before the Notting-Gem's Newspaper reveals who was behind their most recently publicised story," Lord Mattingham continued sharply. "We're already losing money to our competitors and we can't afford anymore losses, do you hear me?"

"I hear you," the Author responded blatantly.

"Good. Then do something about it! Chamberlain's on a holiday to the South Isles for a week. When he gets back, that bloody story better be done so it can be published before the deadline!" Lord Mattingham waved a finger in the Author's face as he went on, "And remember, I don't want a single person finding out the power that's really inside this book, do you hear me? I don't care what it takes, just make sure that none of those characters survive."

The Author nodded. "I won't let you down."

"You better not," Lord Mattingham tossed his head as he spun around on his heel and walked towards the doorway. "Remember, you have one week!" He slammed the door behind him to prove his point.

The Author hesitated, staring at the closed door for a moment. Suddenly he whipped around, his gaze riveting to the still-open book.

"Damn!" he muttered under his breath as he leaped forward and slammed the cover shut with a massive thump that echoed throughout the air.

I lowered the binoculars from my eyes, shaking my head in disbelief.

"What in the world?" Wesley muttered under his breath, his eyes wide with shock.

"Do - do you think everyone saw this, Hayley?" Teyla stuttered out.

I straightened up from my crouched position, a determined look replacing my previous one of fear and confusion.

"Yep," I responded shortly, sidestepping the large rocks in my path as I headed for the bush trail that wound it's way back to the village.

"So ... er .... what now?" Wesley piped up, shouldering his bag and stumbling down the embankment after me.

"We need to find Daniel," I shot back over my shoulder, lengthening my strides.

"B-But why?" Teyla wailed.

I shook my head, annoyed at the persisting ignorance that still shrouded my friends' minds. I stopped and whirled around to face them. "Don't you understand?" I snapped irritably. "This could be the end of us! If we don't do something to stop the Author, we're all gonna be dead by the end of the week. Don't you see how serious this is?"

Wesley skidded to an ungraceful halt, Teyla coming to a stop beside him. They looked as miserable and forlorn as two little puppies with their tails between their legs.

A sigh escaped my lips and my shoulders sagged. I gazed at them apologetically. Whatever I was feeling, whatever I was thinking ... I couldn't let it affect how I treated Wesley and Teyla, the two real friends I actually had.

Heaving a deep breath, I went on in a more level and calm tone, "Let's get back home and see how Auntie Steph is first. Then, we can call Daniel over and thoroughly discuss this situation, okay? We good?"

Teyla and Wesley nodded, both still looking very down-hearted.

"Aw, c'mon," I tried to lighten the mood by stepping forwards and swinging my arms across their shoulders. "It - it'll be fun! It'll be like trying to uncover a murder mystery or something ... only, it'll be a mass murder mystery, of the whole town ..." I trailed off, realising how stupid I sounded.

"Yeah, very funny, Hayley," Teyla snorted, pushing my arm away. "Let's just joke about everyone dying, that's how we deal with things around here."

I opened my mouth to reply but before I could so, Teyla had already turned her back on me.

"C'mon, Wes," she called out as she started down the trail. "We haven't got any more time to waste."

I huffed and rolled my eyes as I quickly trotted after them. As much as I hated to admit it, Teyla was right.

We didn't have much time left.

A/N: I hope u readers enjoyed this & if so please do comment & vote, I'd love it so much!It makes my day! Thank you so much for reading.

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