Their Reasons 8 The Dreamer

Ever since I was born, I preferred dreams over reality. I would sleep any chance I got. Eventually, my power, it was sleep!

I could sleep forever, dream forever, and never have to wake. I could be anyone I wanted, the villain, out to kill everything, or the dying sage, giving his last bit of wisdom to a random pa.s.serby.
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One day, I realized that there were no other games I could think of. I was just repeating the same thing over and over.

I started asking people to tell me a story. If the story was interesting, I'd let them go. If not or if I'd heard it before, then I'd have a new companion to bully until they disappear.

I never did figure out why they dissapeared.

Oh, well.

Now I gather their images, the ones who tell good stories are in a golden frame, and their stories are written under them, so I can always read them again.

The ones with bad stories are in a black frame.

Now, all I do is stay here.

Waiting for our day.