The boy came in through the back door, defeated. He hurried to his cubicle and started to scoop up papers into a large burlap bag.

An administrator noticed this, and hurried to his side. “Packing up, are we?”

The boy ignored him, continuing to collect past works into the bag.

The administrator sighed, and said “Any reason why you’re leaving?”

Finally finished, the boy dropped the bag and sank to his knees. “I have failed.”

“Why’s that? You’ve become a respectable writer here.”

The boy shook his head. “I thought by going back over to Fan Fiction under the shade of one of my friend’s account would inspire me enough to continue my stories. And now, not only have I not gained the inspiration needed, but I couldn’t even finish the one story I made under his account.”

The administrator raised an eyebrow and said “So, that’s what you wanted? To finish a story? Well, finishing a story takes resolve. What was yours?”

The boy answered “My resolve? My one resolve, my desire, was to have the respect and the attention of other authors and readers. My dream was to write captivating stories that would separate me from the fold.”

“And you’ve done that. You’re part of a prestigious writing group, you’ve created original stories that turned heads, so what’s the problem?”

The boy slammed a fist against the frame of his cubicle, startling the other authors around him. “My resolve wasn’t strong enough! Even with the support of the readers and authors, I couldn’t even finish one story. I didn’t even get close! What am I missing? There’s something, something I need. I need, another reason to write, but what?

Something appeared on his desk, seemingly from out of nowhere: a piece of lined paper that looked sullied and dirty next to the clean paper everyone was using. “What’s this?” wondered the boy as he picked it up.

“It looks like an idea,” replied the administrator. “Sometimes, ideas for new stories are manifested from the thoughts and dreams of the mind of the author. They materialize into notes, usually on pizza napkins or scratch paper.”

The boy read what little writing there was on the paper. His eyes narrowed in thought. “I’ve, I’ve dreamt of this before. It was so obscure, but I’ve wondered how people would react to something such as... why, it’s crazy! Insane! Crazy enough to be interesting!”

The boy sat down at his desk and started writing. He wrote in silence for a full hour before looking at what he wrote.

“I’ve found a new resolve,” said the boy, holding up the small packet he created only minutes ago as if it was a new discovery. “I want to share my thoughts, my imagination, to everyone! I want people to look at my works in confusion, wonder, and intrigue! I want people to know that the mad works that they read can only come from my mind! I want to get as much of my beliefs, my views, my very synapses onto paper, all of it! This is my new goal!”

“Brilliant!” said the administrator. “So, should I staple this on the outside of your cubicle?”

The boy thought for a moment. “No, not yet. I don’t want to risk leaving readers waiting months for each new chapter. I will still leave for a while, maybe for good. And if I don’t return, I’ll still have readers. I’ll tackle the real world, the real publishers! I’ll do anything to share my ideas with anyone who wants to listen!”

“And if you do return?”

There was a pause before the boy answered. “If I return, it will be in failure. It will mean that I have lost. But, if I do return, my only consolation will be that I get to share my ideas with the authors and readers here.”

With a smile, the administrator said “Well, that’s quite a goal you have there. Only a few have ever been able to publish their works.”

“And hopefully, I’ll be one of them.” The boy picked up his things to leave. “Oh, I almost forgot,” as he tried to get the id sticker off his back.

But the administrator said “Keep it. Whether you succeed or fail in your goals, you always have a place to write in here, number 425971.”

The boy nodded, and walked out the front door, leaving nothing behind to indicate that he was ever there.

---

Thank you to everyone who supported me while I was here. That includes all of the reviewers, authors, everyone who has ever helped me or inspired me to write my stories. If I ever come back, I'll take this down and continue to write stories here. If not, then there's only one thing left to say:

Peace out!