I sat at an old, wooden desk, one hand supporting my head while the other wrote words in a book with a quill and some ink. A candle stick dimly illuminated the small room I was in, casting shadows as the flame danced around the wick.

The walls were wooden, with old, tattered wallpaper neatly placed over it. The floor was wooden too, but a fur rug rested on top to keep my bare feet comfy. I, Anonymous, thought the room was perfect for the visit I was about to receive.

My brown hair lay in a messy bun on my head, keeping away from my face so I could focus on writing. Bare feet, a tattered dress, and a messy bun. To me, this was absolutely perfect attire. I heard the door ahead of me open then close, not caring to look up from my work.

I just continued to write, not even introducing myself to the boy in front of me – his white hair glowing slightly from the candle light. "You," he growled right after I wrote it down in the book. I rolled my green eyes, being submissive to my own story, and looked up – my hand still writing neatly onto the paper.

"Who the hell are you…" the boy spoke, his eyes showing anger as his hands balled up into fists. "My name has no meaning," I started, my voice sounding of royalty. I moved my hand away from my head as a gesture, ticking the boy off more.

"There is no point in using names unless you are a part in a story. That's why you have a name, Allen Walker." The boy, now titled Allen, backed up slightly, his eyes wide with shock – making his 'scar' on his left eye more disfigured. "How did you…"

I grinned, ignoring his question-to-be. "Same thing with Leenalee and Kanda..Kamui and Miranda…EVERYONE with a name has a part. That part gets written into here, then played out there." I gestured my free hand to the story that was still be written before thrusting a finger behind me – pointing to a window that had suddenly appeared.

Allen was full of emotions… anger, hatred, confusion, and shock. His lips instantly formed a frown as his eyes gave me a glare. His left arm turned into a giant claw, one of the many modes in his Parasite Anti-Akuma-Weapon.

I released my grip on the quill, letting it move on it's own as it dipped itself into the ink bottle and went back to writing at least two minutes ahead of the scene playing out. I raised my shoulders in a shrug and extended my arms outwards left and right.

Allen almost instantaneously took this gesture as a tease and reached out with his giant claw – grabbing me and forcefully pulling me towards him like a claw machine. "What are you…" he whispered through clenched teeth, his left eye suddenly black with red rings on it.

"I'm not human nor Akuma. I'm not alive or dead. So, what, indeed am I? I'm not a nobody, since you, the main character, has noticed my presence. But at the same time, I'm not an important character." My voice was as cold as ice, as sharp as daggers with no emotion.

Allen screamed in anger and confusion, throwing me through the window behind my desk. But, alas, I hit the hardwood floor of my room – suddenly behind him, facing the door. Allen quickly spun around, eyes widening again at the sudden trick. "How are you doing this?!" Allen exclaimed, his claw turning back to a normal arm and hand.

He put both of his hands on his face, unable to think properly. I laughed, getting back to my feet. "You still don't understand?"

"The entire world you live in is FICTIONAL! NOT REAL! FAKE! IMAGINARY! All controlled by a series of 'authors' who sacrificed themselves to make this story!" Allen looked to be in a state of panic, his mind not wanting to believe the words coming out of my mouth.

Sweat poured down his face as he looked at me, the Anonymous, disbelief still lurking within his eyes. "Still don't believe me? How about this…" I clasped my hands together and within the instant, Road appeared (Or is it Rhode? Derp.).

Road's eyes widen in shock, suddenly unaware of her suroundings. She looked to her left, then her right. She jumped back when she saw me, almost trembling in fear. "I am the last author… a creative 14-year-old with limitless power. I can make someone appear, disappear. Remain alive, or die on the spot.."

"I control what you do, how you feel, what you think, what you dream, eat, or drink. Absolutely all of it!" I exclaimed in a fit of laughter. I'm losing my sanity… soon the story will end and I will create another one. I won't be in the fictional world, but they won't even exist.

"I am the last page… after this battle… the story will end and all of this will disappear until he wants to read a new story…" I sighed, lowering my head. "You just have to kill me… if you want to or not.. It's a part of the story. Out of your control…"

I could hear Allen's arm change, and a gasp escaped his throat. He doesn't want to do it.

I would say it's okay, but the story keeps me quiet. He kept saying 'no' to himself, trying to stop as his claw lifted into the air by itself. A tear ran down my cheek, making me smile. I haven't cried in awhile… it's a nice feeling.

I closed my eyes, keeping my head facing the floor. Allen screamed 'no' and I could feel his sharp metal claw pierce through my skin, then my bones, then my heart.

Silence.

Everything was dark, I couldn't see. But then, someone started clapping.

A light appeared out of nowhere, highlighting the Millennium Earl.

"Bravo, bravo! What a good show! I cannot wait to read the next one you write." I smiled, cold tears running down my face. I was the first person to make a successful story for him. One that he enjoyed, one that brought him to the edge of his seat.

I bowed, my hair falling out of it's bun in beautiful curls. "Thank you sir, for enjoying one of my beautiful creations."

HEEEYYYYY! I wrote this thing within an HOUR! CRAZZZYYY! I had a braintstorm moment after watching some D. Gray Man and this popped into my head! Hope you liked it, and please, Rate and review! :D

~Lack