Insane, Imaginary Comedy

LoneReaper


Level of Self-Satisfaction

We had reached the end of the tunnel, where the river took us. The shimmering, ebony-colored water captivated me as the boat gradually stopped. I observed the haven, where I saw life at its fullest contained in the vast green grass. Paper butterflies fluttered in the flame-colored sky. I saw pencils with two pairs of wings hovering over a rainbow-colored pond. Within the pond, a fountain pen, acting as a fountain protruded from the center as little minnow-like creatures swam around. The trees had their autumn foliage, not to mention loose-leaf sheets of notebook paper, actually growing on them. Another type of tree I saw had light bulbs hanging on small filaments, as they illuminated a dim glow. "Wow…" I said, before discovering other people frolicking in the area.

"The level of self-satisfaction." I turned my attention to Edgar, surprised. "All of your finished works stay here, in the 'folio bushes' around your field of vocabulary. Here is where your successful characters reside, in this retreat. See, like Daxter Fender over there," Poe explained, pointing to the brown-haired, green-eyed teen, who sat under a tree, strumming a song.

"I never thought of actually meeting my characters," I whispered, astonished. I sat in the boat, listening to gloomy, harmonic music, resonating from the guitar. "It's so…peaceful, unlike the other two heinous levels we past through."

"Uh-huh. Now I want you to jump out of the boat, and don't scare the little 'pennows' and the 'eraser striders.'" He sat down on the moist grass. "And, be sure not to touch what you think is water. It is ink, and if you touch too much of it, you can be poisoned."

I did as told, and found myself doing somersaults and spins in the air, without hitting the ground. In fact, I was actually flying. I felt like I was on cloud nine, in paradise. While flying about, I found a well, where small light bulbs, labeled 'finished,' overflowed from the sides, while on the inside of the well, it glowed a ominous red, triggering the memory of what I had just gone through. "I just have one question, throughout this whole, odd experience. Why were you my guide?"

"Do I hear inspiration? I know what type of style you write," Poe answered, as he smirked. He took a fleeting look at his pocket watch. "You should be going now."

"But how?" Poe held out a key, and a door appeared out of nowhere. "Oh, the key to reality. Thanks—"

"No need for the thanks."

I nodded. "Nice to meet you in person, sort of, even though you are a figment of my imagination." I unlocked the door and stepped through.

Almost instantly, I fell out of my chair in class, where everyone burst out into laughter and the teacher glared at me. I let out a hesitant laugh, before I muttered a low, "Oh, boy, am I in big trouble now." Never will I ever fall into my reverie during class again. Nevermore.