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The soft yellow sand scrunched up between my toes as I walked, slowly, across the shoreline. The gentle lapping of the grey-blue waves met my ears as they splashed onto the sandy bank, and receded in ripples of froth.

I kept my gaze downwards, only glancing back over my shoulder every now and then to watch the water dissolve the footprints I left behind. I glanced across the vast expanse of ocean, towards the huddle of islands cresting the far horizon and sighed.

What would it feel like to be real?

Welcome to the fictional town of Precipitous.

My name is Hayley Schultz and as for as long as I can remember, this place, this town, is where I've always lived. I was born and raised as a sheepherder's daughter ... until I turned 15. My parents were killed in a savage accident involving a runaway horse. I never felt the same after they left me, even more so after I was sent to live with my prestigious Aunt Stephanie and my socially awkward cousin, Teyla.

But I had no time to really mourn my parents' loss, to get over the fact that they're truly gone. Instead, my life turned from being completely normal to being completely chaotic.

But I think I'm getting a little ahead of myself here ... Let me explain the history of Precipitous.

All it took was several gold coins in exchange for a leather-bound notebook and a fancy ink pen. This exchange was made many years ago when an elderly man fancied himself to be a writer. He lived in an old cottage on the outskirts of the forest. Whenever he wasn't busy whittling wooden toys for the children of the neighbourhood, he was writing a story.

Our story.

We called him the Author.

The Author was kind and gentle. Whenever his ink pen scribbled across the parchment, he made his characters come alive. They were happy and ambitious, living in peace and dwelling in safety.

Alas, it was not to last.

One fateful day, the Author suffered a stroke. He never again arose from his bed but died and was buried in a simple coffin with a simple tombstone. No one had really appreciated him, except for us, his characters.

A few weeks after his sad departure, some men raided his house. They packed many things, including our story, in boxes and transported them, by wagon, to a far-off warehouse. There they lay, untouched, for many months, until the new owner of the warehouse came around to inspect his new property. By chance, he happened upon the box that held our story. He nearly threw us away, but when he opened the cover, he was astonished and delighted by the results. He could see into our fictional world.

However, this man was not kind or gentle like our previous Author. Instead, he used our book to gain money. He pretended he could foretell the future through the course of our story. Many people believed him and gave him whatever he required of them. He became wealthy, but with that wealth came a cruel, vain persona.

Whenever he opened our book and placed the special ink pen against the paper, we all involuntarily shuddered and wished we could run for our lives, for he destroyed us. He forced us to do whatever he wrote and we could not overcome him, for it is impossible to escape.

He trampled down what we built up, he killed the previous protagonists, who were both valiant and brave, he created cruel, heartless enemies that constantly bombard us and our town. He calls them his minions. We call them the invaders.

Our new Author has given every one of us a number, taking away our names, our lives and our hope.

There are 99 characters in our story.

The first number was the old granny that lived down the road. She choked to death. Number 2 was my uncle's dog, who was mercilessly shot down by an invader. Then, numbers 3, 4, 5, and 6, an entire family, burned to death inside their home. On and on, the death and destruction has spread like wildfire. The Author will not stop, until he has killed us all.

And the worst part? I'm number 99. I am the last one destined to die. I am the one who has to watch her family and friends get killed every day. I am the main character of our story. I am the protagonist.

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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