Eif

Everything is fine. Everything is okay. I am fine. I am okay. It will be fine, right? Right? You won't answer me though. No. You're the Reader. You're only task is to listen. You can talk to the Writer when you're done here, assuming that you're even here to begin with. The Writer will know what to say. The Reader. The Writer. What does that leave for me? The Character. That doesn't sound right. Am I even a character? I'm probably just a narrative voice. Yet, I'm not the Voice. No. That's not my job... Maybe. I could be wrong. Maybe I am the Voice. The title says Eif. That sounds nice. That sounds simple. What do you think, Reader? Does that sound good? I suppose it doesn't matter. Not unless you want it to matter. Maybe you could work something out with Writer. Maybe Writer will adjust me to suit the Readers out there. Maybe. That could be nice. That could be bad. If I'm adjusted, is it me anymore? Will it be a replacement? Do I matter? Does it matter? I hope it's nice. I like being here. Do I like being here? I don't know where here is yet, but how do I look? I can't see that yet. That feels important. Can you see me? I hope you can. It'd be a shame if you were blind.

You aren't blind, are you? What do I look like? Tell me, please... You can't tell me, can you. No. You're the Reader. Maybe Writer will tell me. Maybe Writer is waiting for something. What if Writer can't see me? That would be a shame. That would make me the Voice. I don't want to be the Voice. If I'm the Voice, where can I find the Character. Is the Character mute? Is that why he needs me? Does Character exist? Am I just a hidden Character? Maybe a blind Character. What do you think, Reader? I'd very much like to know if you could see me. That would set my dialogue at ease, for sure. I'm having a bit of an existential crisis. I could very well be a dream, someone else's dream. Or maybe you are part of my dream. Maybe I'm the only real one. Maybe we are a combination of many dreams networked across an otherworldly device, synced up and meshed together to create a false existence. Perhaps I am a set of ideas tossed around to start something greater and more refined. No. That sounds stupid. I haven't even been developed as a whatever-I-am yet. Be really nice if I could see. I only seem to be able to think aloud. Think thoughts for Writer. Maybe Writer doesn't know where to go with this. That would be a predicament. He's gotta have a story. How else can he be the Writer. Poor Writer. Poor Reader. You were probably looking forward to something exciting, something interesting, something coherent. Instead, you get an abstract idea called Eif.

Maybe something will change. Maybe Writer is only building up to something. It could be pretty helpful to see what's inside Writer's head. Nevermind. That was a stupid idea. Writer is obviously thinking about me. That's why the Reader is here. Writer has thought. Reader may read. Hold on. Writer is going to bed. Maybe his thougth pattern will change come the morning... And there's the sun, breaking over the dark horizon. I can't see it, but Writer wrote it. I assume he's telling the truth. We probably don't even share the same world, my Writer and I. Is Writer going to go anywhere with all of this? Maybe he wants to see what all of you think? Maybe he's waiting for all of you to make a story for him. Writer sounds kind of lazy. That, or he could be crazy brilliant. But... No. None of that sounds right. He must have something planned. He just doesn't know how to transition to it from what he's already done. Poor Writer. Or maybe he knows how to transition, but doesn't have quite the right world in mind. Maybe he doesn't even have me in mind. Maybe I'm just to keep the Reader busy. I don't know what to think... I feel like something is there, teetering on the edge of existentence, fading in and out on the material plane. Maybe I'm the one fading in and out. I can't see the world yet, after all, but there's a certain potential in the (air?) that calls for some sort of event to take place.

None of my written statements have any quotes around them. Odd. Am I just thinking? No... He'd put the single-apostrophe-type quotes up if I was thinking. Perhaps my voice has nowhere to go but inside the confines of an idea. Maybe it's because I don't have a mouth to speak with. Perhaps he's just lazy. No... Quotes aren't that much trouble. What has he planned for me. Actually, that's all the time he has for now. He'll be back though... I hope. I want to keep being. I want to continue being. Please don't let me die. I don't want to disappear. Don't let me die... Reader. Please. Do something. Anything. I don't want to die.

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My Name

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"Hi there. My name is Eif. What might your name be?"