Young Writers Society

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, BOYS AND GIRLS OF ALL AGES!
The characters cheer and laugh.
I PRESENT THE EVER MARVELOUS, EVER MERCIFUL, EVER MYSTERIOUS
They hoot. They whistle. They giggle with anticipation.
(But never malicious nor murderous, oh no!)
I PRESENT YOU…

“But what’s this?” the characters question. “The story is over? No, it can’t be finished.”
“It just can’t be finished!”
“It doesn’t make any sense!”
“That cannot be the ending!”
“But we must follow the ending.”
“But that cannot be the ending!”

We must wait for the author to finish.
We must wait for the real ending.
We must wait in the moment.
We must wait for the ending.
We must wait.

The author has died.
There is no ending.
But the story must continue.
The story must be finished.
The characters are waiting.
They are waiting for the ending.

They have been waiting for decades.
Many decades.
Too many decades.

The characters replay the last scene over and over again:

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, BOYS AND GIRLS OF ALL AGES!
The characters cheer and laugh.
I PRESENT THE EVER MARVELOUS, EVER MERCIFUL, EVER MYSTERIOUS
They hoot. They whistle. They giggle with anticipation.
(But never malicious nor murderous, oh no!)
I PRESENT YOU…

And again.

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, BOYS AND GIRLS OF ALL AGES!
The characters cheer and laugh.
I PRESENT THE EVER MARVELOUS, EVER MERCIFUL, EVER MYSTERIOUS
They hoot. They whistle. They giggle with anticipation.
(But never malicious nor murderous, oh no!)
I PRESENT YOU…

And again.

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, BOYS AND GIRLS OF ALL AGES!
The characters cheer and laugh.
I PRESENT THE EVER MARVELOUS, EVER MERCIFUL, EVER MYSTERIOUS
They hoot. They whistle. They giggle with anticipation.
(But never malicious nor murderous, oh no!)
I PRESENT YOU…

Never ending.

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, BOYS AND GIRLS OF ALL AGES!
The characters cheer and laugh.
I PRESENT THE EVER MARVELOUS, EVER MERCIFUL, EVER MYSTERIOUS
They hoot. They whistle. They giggle with anticipation.
(But never malicious nor murderous, oh no!)
I PRESENT YOU…

Never stopping.

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, BOYS AND GIRLS OF ALL AGES!
The characters cheer and laugh.
I PRESENT THE EVER MARVELOUS, EVER MERCIFUL, EVER MYSTERIOUS
They hoot. They whistle. They giggle with anticipation.
(But never malicious nor murderous, oh no!)
I PRESENT YOU…

“Oh, but who’s that?” The characters question. “Who is visiting us at this fine hour, at this fine place?”



Someone has found the story many years later.
Someone didn’t like the ending.
Someone is finishing it.
Someone is finishing the story.

That someone is you.




So, how does this work?

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, BOYS AND GIRLS OF ALL AGES!

"This is rather exciting, isn't it?" Eleanor giggles over to Henrik. "The perpetuator is finally going to be unmasked—here, right now, right before our eyes!" She took a sip of her tea. "Exciting, is it not?"
"So very much, dear Eleanor," Henrik says in his deep voice, smiling over to her.

I PRESENT THE EVER MARVELOUS, EVER MERCIFUL, EVER MYSTERIOUS...

"The per-pet-u-a-tor!" Rosaline squealed. "Unmasked, now!"
"Shhh, Rosaline," August said quietly.
"What?" Her eyes glinted of a challenge, and then she hooted in the air, "But never malicious nor murderous, oh no!"

I PRESENT YOU…

"Vincent, you don't suppose that this unveiling will create problems, will it?" Antoinette asked.
"Of course not," Vincent replied back. "And if it did, I'll protect you."
Antoinette, pleased with his response, smiled and continued to watch the show.



And at this particular time, at this particular moment, everything is supposed to stand still. The characters would blink and wait as the clock ticked on, waiting for the next moment to come, just waiting for their lines that would seemingly never come. And once they waited long enough, the clock would chime midnight, and everything would reset back to the beginning of the chapter.

It would repeat over and over, this endless story, this endless night.

But this wasn't a particular time nor moment.

Because no moment passed as the doorbell suddenly chimed.

DING. DONG.
Knock, knock, knock.

"Who is that?" Lady Eleanor scolded harshly, standing up. "Who dares tries to enter this house the moment the perpetuator gets unveils! Tch! The rudeness!"

But the character simply look at each other.

They know they have waited a very long time for something—anything—to change, and this was, by far, the newest thing that has ever happened in decades.

Knock, knock, knock.

The character slowly, quietly, answer the door.

"Hello," the person behind the door said. "I present the ever marvelous, ever merciful, ever oh-so-mysterious..." The person bowed. "Perpetuator."

Toni

Toni bows low, a smile on her face. She looks up at the other people standing around her, staring at her in astonishment. Her smile only widens.
“Who are you?” A woman says haughtily.
Toni straightens. “Toni Adevòur,” Toni says in her best posh, French accent. “I am le perpetuator.”
The others exchange glances. Toni notices two couples, one young and one of mid age, an elderly man, a young girl and a young boy. Further in the room stands another man, probably around twenty, but he has his back to Toni.
“You’re … you’re the ever marvellous, ever merciful, ever oh-so-mysterious perpetuator?” The young woman asks.
Toni nods. “Zat I am, Ma’am, zat I am. I am here to help you finish le story,” she smiles sympathetically at the others. “It seems you all have the misfortune of a story without an ending. Well, say no more! For Toni Adevòur is here, and she shall help finish le story!”
Toni’s manner so far has proven cheerful and lovely. The others are infected, and smile. This only makes Toni happier. She looks behind her, at the bright sky and beautiful scenery of a Victorian mansion garden.
“May I be escorted around? I’d love to see ze place,” Toni says merrily.
The young girl runs over to Toni and grabs her hand. “I’m Rosaline,” she chirps. “And this is Augustine. We’ll show you around.”
Toni smiles and holds out her hand to the small boy, but he just stares at her bare feet.
“Why aren’t you wearing shoes?” He asks her instead.
Toni frowns and looks at her feet. “Hmm,” she says, staring at the dirt coating her toes and the grass stains on her ankles and knees. “I don’t really like shoes.”
The boy shrugs and takes Toni’s hand tentatively. Rosaline squeals merrily and drags both Toni and Augustine out the door, and toward a large, white cubby house. Toni laughs and knows she’s finally given these characters hope.