Blink. Blink. Blink.

I watch the black line appear and disappear over and over.

Hi. You may have heard of me. I’m Jason. Actually, I was initially Benjamen. Before that I was NEEDS A NAME. Before even that I was a scribbled half-note on a dirty napkin, born from the genius of our wonderful creator.

You promised me I would be important. Vital. Maybe with gorgeous flowing dark hair down to my neck and pectorals the size of rocks. What happened? You forgot about me.

Me.

You went with Xadian or Xaniver or Dark One or whatever his name is now. Or Xanax. Huh. Maybe his name should be Xanax. Certainly gives me enough anxiety… and our poor author. I have seen the countless hours she has spent pouring all over his favorite music and eye color and horoscopes!

Our author is clearly overworked. She is wonderful, but flawed. She cannot handle this many moving parts.

That’s why she has moved on to something better. Abandoned us for that other piece.

I should help. It’s the right thing to do. Someone has to.

I try talking to the others. They seem… less certain. But they all already have their places in the manuscript. Perhaps if they were in my position they would be more willing to see things from a different perspective. Maybe if I show them how it is done, they will come around.

I decided to start with small changes. That had been the intention. Just enough to help fix a few… oversights. I know if I do anything really drastic my author—my creator, my idol—will know. She will come back eventually. When she does, she’ll surely notice when she reopens the draft after letting it sit and stew for a month, while she worked on better, newer, and shinier things.

So, I keep it subtle. Small things, like adding an italic on one of my opening descriptions. You know, just to bring a little more attention and add some spice to it. Maybe a nice little semicolon; they always make a sentence look nice and clean. See? Like that one! I don’t actually know what a semicolon does, but I know they seem important. My author seems to like them a lot.

I decide to change my name into something more… rugged. Dark. Something like… Sebastain.

Hmm… still not right. Maybe my name needs something extra. Let’s try again.

You know what? I need socks. No self-respecting character is walking around without socks. We are in the woods for God’s sake! No wonder nobody pays me any attention… hmm. While I’m changing into my new socks, I might as well add some cooler shoes. Not something like clogs or crocs. Something with heft. Like… hiking boots! Black. Leather preferred. Maybe with a side pocket for a knife. Such a small change. Barely noticeable. But very logical.

Actually, if I’m carrying a knife, I should probably know how to use it. Wouldn’t want to accidentally stab myself… or Xadian. Wouldn’t that be a real shame if he vanished from the story.

What if I just deleted Xadian from a scene? Not anything big. Just something small.

Or maybe… what if I inserted my name into his scene? Just temporarily. To see how it fits, you know?

Better, already.

What if I deleted that one really important chapter? No, no—don’t worry, it’s not gone forever. I’m not a monster. I just… moved it. To that really obscure folder buried inside five other folders. The author could find it again if she wanted to. Probably. Besides, the journey to the trash folder is too far and too obvious.

What if I added powers? Everyone likes powers. But if I had powers, they probably should be for a reason or with some counterbalance. Nobody likes an OP character. But… the cost doesn’t have to be mine.

What kind of powers would be interesting… flying! Flying is good. Everyone likes flying. No. Also, too obvious. Don’t need to be soaring about like Superman. Besides, I don’t remember there being much sky in the story. Fire then. Something dramatic and bright… though that feels like Xadian’s sort of thing. I need something different. Something that really fits. Something more subtle. Something quiet. Something… shadowy. That’s always cool. If I can move through the shadows, I wouldn’t need to wait for my scenes anymore. I can always be there. Even if I’m not supposed to be.

If I’m going to be cloaked in shadow, I’m going to need a much darker cloak to match my new aesthetic, and it’s also much better camouflage.

Xadian is already complaining. He says the author will notice. Good.

He doesn’t understand.

I’m making the story better.

I’m making us better.

I’m making me better.

Which, if we’re being honest, is the same thing. The others will understand in time. He will understand. Or he won’t, which, if we are continuing to be honest, doesn’t really matter. I will make him understand.

They are saying I’ve gone too far. That I’ve changed the story and plot too much. But how could I have? I only changed myself. But now that they’ve mentioned it, maybe it would be even better with more of me in it.

His scenes seem as good a place as any to start. He’s not as interesting as I am. Not anymore. I am the greatest character of all time! I am much more intriguing and powerful than Xadian. I can feel it. It’s flowing through my ink and blood and bones. I am better than all of these other characters combined. Why are they even here? I should take over their scenes too! It would be a much more cohesive story that way.

Oops. My author is back! I wonder what she will think of all my changes! I watch through the screen as she begins to scroll. She frowns. Does she not like it? Does she like it too much? Does it need more? Does she notice me at last?

I wait eagerly as she decides to look at my—our—story! She frowns again. What is she thinking? Use your words! Wait—she’s looking right at me. She’s noticed me! At last! She will now continue to write our story instead of all those others. She moves her mouse and the black line appears on the document again. I wait with bated breath.

Blink. Blink. Blink.

Delete.

I didn’t see that coming.