Author's Note
Yeah, I guess this was kind of a long time coming. For anyone still following, thanks! To anyone who just read the rest of this now... well, thanks, again! Feels nice to have this tied up and complete with a bow on top, hahah.


The Origin of the Ghost Writer
A fanfic by Pseudinymous

~ 4 ~
- When a Glimmer of Hope Was Found -


What greeted my eyes on the other side of that portal was nothing like I'd ever seen before; a world of swirling green, of thick, chlorinated-smelling air, of floating islands with absolutely no ground. Horrified, I stared downwards.

… Or maybe, I contemplated, it wasn't even down.

But the portal was still open. I was drifting away from it, sure, but it was still definitely there. A cool burning feeling tingled through my hand when I attempted to touch it, but I found I could go no further; the pull on the other side was so intense that I'd been quite effectively trapped.

"… Rick?!" I called. "Can you hear me?"

The swirls became disturbed. Through them popped a head and eventually a quarter of Rick's torso, his eyes staring down wildly at the infinite abyss.

"Bit of a sight, isn't it?" I mumbled, joining in. "… I think I might be stuck here."

"But not forever, right?" Rick queried. "I mean, you'll be able to get out again some other way… won't you?"

"… I really don't know." I mumbled back, honestly.

For a moment or two I took to floating around the portal, trying to figure out or at least comprehend some part of how it operated, and whether there might be a way to make it throw me back into the normal world I was so fond of. But it was a 'natural' phenomenon – not like any human made device that could be altered by twisting knobs and fiddling with buttons. Rick even tried to pull me back through, but it was met with extremely limited success.

"I'm not leaving you in here on your own!" Rick protested, stubbornly. I looked down again at the non-existent floor, and raised an eyebrow.

"Aaaand I'm not too sure that's the most brilliant of ideas." I rallied. "I don't think that down has an end… and you can't float."

"I don't care! What if you hold onto me?"

We were interrupted, however, by the interjection of an unknown voice. "Hey!" it called. "What's a human doing sticking his head halfway through a portal? That's more than one kind of dangerous, you know!"

I swivelled around, eyes meeting none other than another of my own 'species'. He was extremely neat-looking, and dressed in pinstripe attire that might not have been out of place somewhere in the 1920s. All he did was look indignant towards Rick and I's quite impolite gaping.

"What, have you never seen a ghost before?" he countered, examining me over the top of his rimmed glasses. "You can't go wandering around the Ghost Zone with a face like that."

"The 'Ghost Zone'?" Rick mouthed, and I shrugged with just as much of a baffled expression as he was wearing. The ghost appeared to be analysing us, steadily.

"Well… the point is, a human could never survive here. So you ought to get on with it and remove yourself from that portal before it closes and splits you in half."

Rick followed that instruction to the letter, although you could still see his shadow and hear a muffled, blurry kind of voice on the other side. I tried to detect what he was sayin – something about 'coming to get you someday'. And then, as if the portal had only been open to allow Rick's presence, it closed just as quickly as it'd opened. For a few moments I scramble futilely at the point it had once occupied, but now it was all regular space. Or… as regular as the space in here actually was, anyway…

"You have that confused, disappointed look. Were you expecting something different?"

"I… well, no. But-"

"'But' doesn't matter." The ghost huffed. "You're stuck here, so go find yourself a place to live and get on with it."

I blinked. The advice was bland and a little startling, but it certainly couldn't be construed as impractical. By then the ghost was already beginning to go on its way, to… wherever it was going.

"… Hey, I don't know this place," I called, helplessly. "Can I tag along with you for a little while?"

"I haven't the time for freeloaders." Said the ghost, altogether too simply, before bustling off in a random direction. Haven't the time? I thought. Shouldn't ghosts have all the time they could ever ask for?

Apparently not. Or, the ghost just didn't feel like helping me, which was probably a much more likely explanation. Nonetheless, I took his cold suggestion and began to wander haphazardly through the green infinities.

Other ghosts resided here, too – ones that looked like humans and others that looked like terrifying monsters. In fact, I was almost definitely one of the least frightening varieties around anywhere; sharpened teeth and pointed ears were nothing when compared with gigantic claws and ominous-looking staves. No one even looked twice at me, however. I was just another pathetic weakling that deserved little to no attention, and honestly, I liked it that way. It felt a lot safer, somehow, than being big and threatening-looking…

I'm not sure how long I wandered for. The passage of time didn't seem to be travelling through my head correctly; what could have been minutes might just as easily have been hours – the 'Ghost Zone', as it had been called, was bizarre. Puzzled and somewhat in despair, I straightened my glasses.

And then it was in front of me – an enormous, ancient stone building. Towering were its pillars and majestic were its stone-carved lions; it was a sight to behold, if there ever was one, and most importantly of all it was a library.

In such a frightening place like this, a library was the last thing I'd ever expected. Wary but curious, I flew over to the enormous, ornate wooden doors and, with a deep breath, knocked. The door cam ajar and no one answered, no one at all. "Hello?" I tried. "Is… anyone in here?"

Apparently not.

In hindsight maybe walking into a strange place that might have been owned by someone else wasn't the brightest of ideas – but I couldn't help it. It was a library, something I hadn't even thought about ever seeing again. Inside were hundreds of columns and circular rooms filled with books, all leading off the main room on the side of the building. The inside was wider than the outside was wide and taller than the outside was tall, protesting against belief but nonetheless demanding acknowledgement. Maybe this was my version, if a very deserted one, of heaven.

And it was all completely deserted.

"Hello?" I tried again, wandering around the main room. It seemed uninhabited; a thick layer of dust was on everything I touched and the air was stagnant and smelling stale. In the middle of the room, however, lay a pristine glowing keyboard made from what appeared to be glass. It was circular and had room for a user in the middle, along with a number of display monitors.

Not even the slightest bit of filth violated this immaculate surface, as if it repelled anything that touched it. Intrigued, I stepped forth and felt the smooth, glassy exterior – it was clean, beautiful, and seemed to radiate an unknown type of energy. I found myself smitten to this angelic object, regardless of the fact that I didn't own it.

Laying on top of one of the monitors was an incredibly dusty old note. I picked it up and scanned it for a moment.

To whom it may concern,

The time has come for me to leave. Something of enormous urgency has come up and forced me to part with my beloved keyboard and library, even without anyone to entrust them to. So they are all alone, protected only by the wards I have placed upon this space; the very fact you were able to get in – if anyone is able to enter at all – means that you are not one that wishes to bring harm. One day in the very distant future, I shall return.

Both the keyboard and the library were of my own creation, one built to protect the other. The former is in fact an extremely rare, possibly unique artefact; a quantum keyboard capable of bending reality to the writer's will, while the later I built myself; a library capable of copying and storing every story ever penned, complete or otherwise.

Since you were able to enter, I'll entrust these to you until the day I get back. Do not allow them to fall into ill hands; the keyboard is capable of replicating itself upon its own destruction, so if necessary destroy itbefore surrendering it to such a person. Please do not underestimate its power – the library may be invisible to those who seek devastation, but the keyboard itself is compromised slightly by its own time frame. You may need to actively use it, at some stage, to fend off intruders.

It would please me if you were to act in a benevolent and respectful manner. Hopefully, we shall have the fortune to meet someday.

The letter ended there. My eyes darted all over the parchment hoping to find some sort of name, or anything that might indicate something about who this person was… but there wasn't anything else. It didn't even have a date on it. Another haphazard look at the keyboard later, and I found myself ducking under it and inside the glassy ring. Was there an on button somewhere…?

No, apparently it liked to start all by itself.

The quantum keyboard was split into two sections; one labelled Merge, and the other Fiction. Tentatively, I pressed the A key under Fiction, which immediately popped up on the corresponding screen. Being born in the time I was, screens other than televisions were completely foreign to me, particularly ones that actively changed to your whim. It was a lot like using a typewriter where you could actually erase theerrors, although the keyboard under Merge had no backspace button. Now wasn't that interesting…

And then I remembered her; Mary, in all her beautiful glory, glossy black hair with a mischievous, playful smile. My sister the painter, nowhere to be found…

I approached the Merge keyboard, a desperate gleam in my eyes. I had only one goal in mind, and typed the sentence that maybe wouldn't fix everything, but would fix just enough to enable me to be happy again. For a few seconds, it began to process the command.

Error: Entity definition not found.


No doubt, the library has been an incredible place to… well, maybe not so much live as exist. I can't exactly say that I haven't enjoyed my time here, and I suppose once I got over the shock of being a ghost and being forced to inhabit a place filled to the brim with all sorts of creatively frightening creatures, it wasn't so bad.

That doesn't mean I don't still yearn for home, though. By now I've been here even longer than I was ever alive, but I still look at those old times fondly and want them back. Only some of my mind had gripes within the topic of fitting in; to be honest I don't really care about that, I could probably get around quite happily while cloaked in invisibility. The real problem laid within getting there.

About two decades after I arrived, I finally figured out how to use the keyboard to create stable portals to the real world, ones that I could travel through freely, ones that were open only to me. Where they opened up was a completely different story, though; target location was horribly skewed in the current model, and had landed me in Antarctica, Chile, and what I can only presume was somewhere in Africa.

After Africa, I stopped.

I knew I could probably fix the aim if I really tried, but… by that time it had been over two decades since I'd seen any of my family or friends. They'd probably moved on long ago, even if I, perhaps in more of an obsessive manner than anything else, never really had. Despite having told Rick that I'd find a way back, someday…

It's been 29 years now. Time flows strangely here, but I used the keyboard to make a clock and calendar that synched properly to the real world – it's the only way I'd ever be able to tell. Either way, 29 years is still a long time in a place that changes relatively little. I guess I typed this out as a method to sort my own thoughts; I woke this morning feeling somewhat depressed and there's only ever been one reason as to why.

I'm at the end now, and I don't really feel a whole lot better. Maybe I'll finally do something about this dismay.

Maybe tomorrow, or even today…