Chapter 7: The Narrator’s End

“The snow flakes glistened in the bright sunlight. Icicles clung to tree branches, making the forest seem more magical than it actually was. The ice that covered the stream nearby was like a glass window. Fish could be seen swimming through it. And the mountains that were normally threatening in size and nature, looked peaceful wearing their white, winter coat. This winter wonderland was truly a sight to see….”

Suzie turned the page for her mother.

“That’s weird.” Suzie’s mother looked down at the two blank pages in front of her. No pictures, no text. Nothing. Surely it was an error made during printing. She turned to the next page and then the next. 

“What happened to the book, mama?”

Suzie’s mother flipped through the remaining pages in search of the remainder of the story. She and Suzie only read the first page of this book, “The Witch and the Wonderland.”  

Where was the rest of it? There was only a few lines of narration. No pictures. No characters.

“I don’t know, baby.”


A crack in the air startled Mabel. She looked past the microphone in front of her, staring out through the windows of the isolation booth. The source of the crack hid in the darkest corners of the recording studio. 

“It was probably just static. The Erasers aren’t that bright. They’ll need a longer story before they’ll be able to track me,” she thought, adjusting the headphones. She cleared her throat and continued narrating the story. “This winter wonderland was truly a sight to see. Trees and rocks were transformed into ice sculptures—”

Crack! This time there was no mistaking it. Mabel wasn’t alone in the recording studio. She reached over and locked the door to the isolation booth. With floor-length windows on all four sides, there wasn’t much she could do to protect herself.

A shadow in the distance crept along the wall, taking a familiar shape.


Mabel squinted, trying to see who the uninvited guest was. She removed the headphones and stepped off the stool.

As the shadow crept closer to the booth, the figure it was attached to became visible. 

“You?” Mabel gasped. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. A trusted friend and confidant. The last person she’d ever suspect of betrayal. “You’re an eraser? How is that possible?”

“In fiction, all things are possible.” 

(To be continued)

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