You're reading my story? I thought you wouldn't be interested; I mean, who'd want to listen to the story about the shadow of a hero? Well, I guess I'll start with how I was created. Let me be honest, I can't exactly remember what it's like to be created, but here's how I remembered it:
I opened my eyes, to see blurry images all over the place; it was dark, too dark for me to recognize the objects around me. They slowly connect together, to form something so I can see, as if the lights slowly turned on. The first things I saw was a computer, that had some sort of person that had clothing that was considered casual, but when you look at what he was wearing on his head, you'd consider it ridiculous. "Ah, you're finally awake," someone said.
I was startled, and I tried to sit up to see who it was, but I was forced to stop after trying. I looked down to see that I was on a table, strapped with leather that each had a metal buckle. I could only turn my head at an angle, to see a man dressed in fine clothing; he had raven-black hair that brushed against his ears, and wrinkles that indicated how many years he lived. "You may not feel comfortable around me," he said, "But I must inform you that I am not interested in hurting you, since you've just came into the world for the first time."
He unstrapped the leather that was wrapped around me, and I could feel my body being more relaxed. "I am your creator," he said, "My name is Professor Hudson, but you can call me Professor. You may not be familiar with walking or your own appearance, but I'll guide you through before you can officially be a Scribblenaut."
At that time, I didn't even know what a Scribblenaut was, and I felt a little uncertain, because who wouldn't? When I tried to move, I only lifted my arm a few centimeters off the table. The professor walked out of the room and shut the door before I could even try to walk.
When I figured out how to move, I slowly moved myself down to the ground; my legs were weak to carry me up, so I ended up falling multiple times on my face. Boy, did it hurt.
I looked at the door knob that was attached to another door. I stared at it, trying to remember what the professor did when he tried to open the door himself. I slowly lifted my hand towards the door knob grasped it. I turned my hand and walked forward, hitting my head against the wooden door in the process.
I rubbed my head to where it hurts most; when I was created, you'd probably would've called me the dumbest creature alive. I held the door knob again, but this time I tightened my grip. When I attempted to open it again, it worked! I felt my mouth forming something, and I felt a little prideful for some reason.
On the other side of the door was a surprise; it reflected something that had many objects in it. This time, I saw the person again, except they were wearing different clothes this time. 'This person must not have a unique sense of style,' I thought.
Just then, I heard the door open once again. "You figured out how to open a door," said a familiar voice, "That is impressive for a prototype like you. I realize you figured out what a mirror and a reflection is; we might be at a good start for your development."
I turned around to notice the professor, smiling at me; he was holding something behind his back, and I didn't know what it was. "That person you see over there," he said, pointing to the person in the 'mirror', "Is you. You are the first clone of Maxwell, the legendary Scribblenaut."
I felt my eyes widen with shock; that person was me!? I couldn't believe I was nothing but a mere clone of a good hero, and it made me feel a little heartbroken to know that I was just a copy. Either way, I was curious about the object behind his back. I couldn't really talk, and I didn't know how; I held out my hands, then pointed to one of them. "Ah, you're wondering about what I have?" he asked.
I nodded, not knowing what was the correct response for yes. He revealed to me a green notebook, with a golden star with five dots on each inward angle. "This is your notebook," he said, "A Scribblenaut must have one at all cost, to help people who are in need. This notebook creates the objects you want, as long as you write the words; you may also add an adjective that you want."
My hands reached out to take the notebook away from his hands. He gave it to me, and a took it away and held it to my chest, as if I was a child cherishing a toy and imagining it was my lifelong friend. He chuckled and held my hand. "Come, little one," he said, "Let's take you home, so you can rest up for the night."
His hand held mine very firm, as if he was scared of losing me. We both walked out of the room together, and he somehow managed to turn off the lights by himself. For some reason, I felt that I will be safe from here on out.
Author's Note: Yay, finally! I published my first story on ! What do you guys think? Please give me some gentle, yet thorough criticism since I get really nervous when I get a negative look among others.
