Fiction and reality can never truly meet. The line that separates these two concepts is clear. Fiction must rely on reality to define its existence, yet reality stands tall, unyielding, and unmistakable; it leans on nothing. I have always believed this rule to be unfair. As fiction knows no limits. Anything we desire can exist, freedom in its purest form. The poor can become rich. The rich can grow even richer. These limits are only in reality. That is why the line must remain.
The question that kept lingering in my mind for years was how to erase that line. There had to be a way for fiction to eventually be real. I spent those long, exhausting years creating a remedy for my ailment. A story that could cross that impenetrable line.
I sank deep into the abyss of my thoughts only to be pulled back by the footsteps and chatter echoing from the hallway. The breeze gently scraped across my nape as I sat upright, awaiting those footsteps that rapidly got harsher.
For some unexplainable reason, I was in a much better mood than normal. I glanced over to a small drawer as I tried to escape the grasp of my bed, only to be pulled back by its suffocating embrace.
A slight disappointment crept onto my lips, only to vanish as a man with a white coat, shrouded from shoulder to feet. There was a short woman beside him pushing around a table with the ease of her fingers. She turned around and slowly closed the door.
A faint noise escaped from my mouth, "Can you please grab my notebook and pencil for me?" She walked over, opened the drawer, and handed me the items I requested. I gave her a warm smile to show my appreciation.
"Ahem," the man had coughed to make his presence in the room clear.
I opened my notebook and quickly glanced over to him, acknowledging him.
"I believe you're fully aware what I'm about to say", he said, grabbing an iPad from the desk. "We will monitor your condition and help manage the pain today. We will provide oxygen to help ease your breathing. If you feel stressed, please inform us so we can give you sedatives," he spoke with an indifferent expression as if these same lines were uttered a thousand times.
"Hey doc, is today really it?" I asked in a curious tone.
"Yes, from the estimate we gathered, your body won't be able to function any longer." I could see a small glimpse of sadness from the doctor, "we tried everything we could," a slight pause as he looked down, flipping through his paper. "I'm sorry".
"Don't be sorry, doc," I smiled, trying to console him.
"Hey doc, what do u think exists beyond this reality?"
"Do you think maybe there's another world after this? I hope it has magic, and that I can shoot fireballs out of my hands, maybe I might be able to even create an ice castle as big as a continent, " I beamed, smiling like a kid who was lost in a dream. All I could ever do was dream. For the past 10 years, I have been stuck in this same world.
The world was my hospital room; I didn't necessarily hate it. At some point, I decided that if this were my world, I would create a world of my own. It took me 7 years to write this book, and today I would finally be able to complete this world and bring it to life.
"Not sure, but if somewhere like that existed, take a step forward with all the strength you can." The doctor gave me a small but warm smile.
The one person who had been with me for the longest was him; every week, we would talk about my book, and I shared my countless ideas with him. Even if this was my end, I was still happy to spend my last moments with him.
"Hmm, one step forward..." I grabbed my chin, deep in thought, then it clicked as if a lightbulb had switched on in my head. I opened my book to the last page and wrote down those very words.
'One step forward.'
Now all that was left was to end my story. I contemplated how I would end the story, flicking my pencil on my forehead. Then my grip began to slip. My arm dropped hard onto the bed, and my head fell onto the side, as if the weight of everything finally caught up to me. My back went limp as I collapsed.
I tried to yell from shock, but nothing was coming out. I realized then that it had been time. What a sad, pathetic life I lived. As those dark thoughts filled my head, a life full of regrets, one regret stood above the rest. The regret of not finishing my book.
My consciousness was slowly drifting. I saw in the corner of my eyes the nurse holding her mouth, holding back tears, and my doctor watching with calm, smiling eyes.
"Have a long rest," he said as a smile settled across his face.
My world had turned pitch black.