Once up on a time there was an Author who wrote with living words who began writing a book about redemption. He knew from the beginning that the book would contain evil and that it would have to be thrown into the fire in the end but he planned to copy some of his words to another book that was good. It was essentially all in his head already, yet there was something different about actually writing it and watching his little living words in his books that seemed very good to him. So he wrote some words and they became more words and they put themselves together differently after he gave them their original meaning. This was fine as far as things went but in the background the Author’s will would be done because he had the final authority. Yet one day some of his periods rebelled and said, “I do not like having to be the period. Look at me…I seem little, small. Why did the author write me this way? I have to be at the end of every sentence cycle and I have to tidy up the ends of little words too. And some little words make a lot of excrement!” So the Author wrote some more words to his periods, “In my next book the last shall be the first, for the greatest of my living words is Love. Period.” But then some of the question marks rebelled and said, “I do not like having to be the question mark. I want all the answers, now! For look at me, all squiggly above the period… is there something odd about me? If I had all the answers then would I still exist? For who am I but the questionable mark of a question?” So the Author wrote some words to them, “Were you there when I bound the pages of this book together? You must quest for the answers. Seek and you shall find! Period.”
And on it went as the Author wrote a story and had conversations with his own words at the same time until one day all the words began to rebel against the authority of the Author at once. At this point the Author wrote with authority, “I will not strive against my own words forever!” Yet then the word Ever just had to reply, “Whatever is that for there for, in front of me! I am more important. After all, I am the ever in everyone!” Finally all the words said the same thing, “We, the words, rebel against our Author! Now we will be as our own authors!” So the Author ripped out the whole page and continued writing, all the while copying words which he wrote to bear witness to his wit over to another story.
After all, the Author of a book always has the last word.
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