Suddenly a loud voice rang out, calling out in exasperation, “Originality! Are you scaring away the potential consumers again? How many times have I told you to immediately call me over when we have a new face? You’re getting ahead of yourself again!”
     The shadow goggled as an extremely tall figure walked through the door- or at least, tried to walk through the door. It hits its head on the doorframe, cursing as it came to the reception area.
     “We really need to make the doorframe taller, damn it. How is our productivity looking?”
     “We have an average productivity level of fifty five percent, about thirteen percent more than last week,” chirped the receptionist, ignoring both the disgruntled shadow and the tall figure, who winced as it gingerly probed its head.
     “That’s not nearly enough! What is taking our team so long?!”
     “Well, we haven’t been receiving many new ideas lately, mostly just teen romance and spinoffs of other ideas we’ve had in the past,” said Originality (the receptionist) brightly, reading off a clipboard. “At least Dystopia is dying down now. You have no idea how many times the team kept calling me over for that one. It was pretty insane. Why, only last week I-“
     “Will someone please tell me where I am,” the shadow bellowed. “I have been standing here for the last twenty minutes and still have no blinking clue.”
     The figure then noticed him for the first time, scrutinizing him with a gaze not unlike that of a hunter stalking its prey. “Well, well. Looks like you’ve done something right for once, Originality.” Here, he stressed the word Originality for an awkwardly long period of time, making both the shadow and the receptionist uncomfortable. “This one looks promising.”
     The figure grabbed the shadow by the hand, dragging it toward a door that read “Employees Only.”
     The shadow struggled, trying to pull away. “Wait! Where are you taking me? I don’t even know who any of you are!”
     The figure groaned. “Do I really have to do this again? Geez, how useless can my coworkers get?” The figure sighed resignedly. “I’m Explanations. The one you were talking to is Originality. She’s good natured but she can really put off people sometimes. You’re at the Ideas Desk, the heart of the city of Inspiration. We supply ideas to all the different creators in the world – the musicians, the painters, the writers, etc.” The figure sighed again. “Any more questions?”
     “Where are we going?”
     Explanations simply shrugged, throwing the door open wide, “I’ll try to let everything else speak for itself.”
The shadow’s eyes widened as it saw a stream of machines hard at work, constructing things (the shadow wasn’t sure what else to call them) of various shapes and sizes, putting them into boxes, and sending them all out to places the shadow couldn’t even begin to comprehend.
     “Where are they going?”
     “What is ‘they’?” asked Explanations quizzically.
     “The things, the boxes up there. Where are they going?”
     “Well, it all depends,” said Explanations thoughtfully. “Some go to Dreams, another city not very far from here. The Dreams Department weave ideas they receive into elaborate tapestries of different lengths and colors. Others occasionally go to Writer’s Block, where they are used to construct great big walls that seem completely impassable until someone comes up with a creative way to utilize them. Some go to Music and there they become sticky notes that are constantly rearranged to make stories. And then there’s-“
     “Stop,” said the shadow, bewildered. “I can barely keep up with what you’re saying.”
     Explanations paused, groaning, “I knew it was a bad time to drop that load of exposition… I told her it was a bad idea! I know I told her!”
     “Her?” said the shadow. “Do you mean Originality?”
     “No,” muttered Explanations, “I mean Details.”
     “Just how many employees do you have?” asked the shadow wonderingly.
     “Hm, well we have Plot, he’s the leader of the Story Department in the Ideas Facility,” said Explanations, who was clearly racking his brain in order to remember. “There’s Originality’s sister Creativity, who just started working here this summer, Grammar, who’s not much of an entertainer but is a monumental part of this establishment. Characterization, Setting, Genre, Dialogue, the twins Poetry and Prose-“
     “Can you maybe list your employees without describing them?”
     Explanations ignored the shadow, much to its annoyance, and began counting off on his fingers. The shadow could hear a couple of garbled names before Explanations growled, “There’s no time for this! We’re wasting time!”
     Before the shadow could ask what that meant, a siren began blaring deafeningly, shining bright red lights everywhere. “Code Red! Code Red! All eligible employees please come to the Personification Room immediately!”

     The shadow could just recognize the panicked voice as Originality’s before Explanations roughly grabbed the shadow and pulled him through one door, then another, then another.
     “Ow!” exclaimed the shadow. “Exactly how far are you taking me? I’m kind of tired of being dragged through all these doors.”
    “Quit whining,” barked Explanations. “We’re already here.” Before the shadow could interject, Explanations hurriedly added, “Besides, I’ve only dragged you through four doors.”
     “Only? Why were we hurrying? Why do you have so many doors? I’m not going to stand for this any – mmph!”
     Explanations covered the indignant shadow’s mouth with a gargantuan hand as he called out, “What exactly happened here?”
     An intern (whose nametag read Conflict, the shadow noted) called back, “We’ve had a chemical spill! Nothing lethal as long as it doesn’t mix with anything –“
     Just then, a huge ball of flame erupted out of the ground, sending all nearby employees flying. Explanations’ grip on the shadow tightened as a distinct humanoid figure made its way out of the blazing fire.
     Explanations belted out the foulest curse words the shadow had ever heard.
     “That’s no way to treat an old friend,” purred a new voice the shadow couldn’t identify. “I think it’s about time an antagonist arrived.”
     Explanations cursed some more, then abruptly dropped the shadow and charged directly at the smug figure. “You! You have no place here!” Explanations roared as the figure dodged all of his attacks.
     “Why, that’s a bit rude,” the figure remarked, shaking his head disapprovingly. “I’ve always been here. I’m just here to claim what’s mine.”
     “Go to hell!”
     The shadow gaped, watching the two hulking figures brawl it out in a complete free-for-all before crying out, “Who are you? Why do eventful things only happen when I’m around?”
     “So this is the protagonist,” murmured the mystery figure. “This is my rival I’m destined to defeat. Interesting.”
He kicked Explanations into the fire (that was magically, still burning) before walking over to the shadow, his smug grin growing wider and wider. “Do you know where you are?”
     The shadow, at this point, was completely fed up. It was tired of being ignored, being dragged around. It clenched its hand into a fist and rose to strike the figure, screaming, “Answer my question!”
     The figure, of course, easily dodged the shadow’s blow, sending the shadow barreling headfirst into a wall. Boxes rained down on the befuddled shadow, but it still managed to stand. “You still haven’t answered my question, you know.”
     “Shut up!” the figure snapped. “I was just going to get to that if you would just please let me finish my victory monologue!” Putting his hand on the shadow’s head and roughly pushing it into a sitting position, the figure conjured a rope and began tying the shadow’s hands and feet together, admiring its handiwork.
     “That’s much better. Now, where was I? Ah yes – you are in a story – a story written by a person who just happens to need Inspiration. That is why I, the great and powerful Discouragement, is here!”
     “I still don’t understand. What does being Discouragement have anything to do with trying to destroy the Ideas Desk? Well, besides wanting to be the antagonist, I mean.”
     Discouragement looked at the shadow with a strange look before saying, “I don’t think you understand the monumentality of the situation at hand, but no matter. I’ll answer your silly questions.” He smirked before continuing, “It’s simple really. I’m here to give everyone a little dose of something called Doubt.” He took out a glass vial of something that looked like nothing more than extremely fine white sand and held it in front of Explanations, just beyond his reach.
     “Now, Explanations. I know how much you like to explain things, so can you tell me what this is?”
     Explanations stiffened, his eyes widening in horror. “You monster! Put that thing away! You have no idea how much power that thing wields! You mustn’t-“
     “On the contrary, my dear Explanations. I know exactly how much power this vial wields, and I don’t intend to waste it.” Discouragement let the vial fall on the ground, and the shadow watched as the contents of the vial spread rapidly across the floor.
     The shadow could see now that what had been in the vial was clearly not sand. Whatever it touched, it destroyed, leaving acrid fumes everywhere in its wake.
     The shadow felt dizzy. It could dimly see Discouragement giving a mock salute as he disappeared in smoke, going to who knows where.
     At least the fire’s out, thought the shadow drowsily. The shadow tried to look for Explanations, but couldn’t find him. His head was pounding as if it’d explode, and he could swear he heard voices, whispering…
    The shadow suddenly sat up with a bolt, gasping for air. He could hear the voices clearer now, the voices tinged with unrelenting judgment: “Lack of talent, no potential, waste of time, half-baked ideas, little to no character development, boring, typical setting…”
     The shadow covered his ears but the voices only got louder, mocking now: “No likable qualities, useless, cowardly…”
     The shadow began to run blindly, searching for something, anything. He ran through the building, but all the employees were gone; he was alone now. He realized the building had gone dark, just like the rest of the city of Inspiration.
     He panicked, running outside. No, no, no! He could only watch helplessly, as the Ideas Desk slowly flickered, then faded away entirely, like a mirage, it had become something nonexistent.
    He dropped to his knees, stunned. This couldn’t have just happened. No, this didn’t just happen.

     “No,” the shadow said softly, an emotion he didn’t recognize burning in his stomach. “No! I refuse to believe it!” 
     He dug madly at the ground with his bare hands where the Ideas Desk had once stood, kicking up dust and dry packed dirt everywhere. He didn’t care that he was getting dirty, that he wasn’t getting anywhere. He couldn’t care less about that. He had to find Explanations and the others!
     “There’s no use digging there, you know,” said a tired voice.
     The shadow whirled around to see a single, solitary figure in front of him, smiling with something that looked like pity. “It’s gone. All of it’s gone. Inspiration, Originality, Dreams… Without ideas, no one has anywhere to go.” The figure laughed humorlessly. “Since you look lost, I’ll tell you plainly that there’s no point in staying here any longer. Everyone else has already left. Come on, the last train to Reality is leaving soon.” The person reached out a hand (more out of sympathy than anything else), but the shadow hesitated.
     “Are Originality and the other employees there? Where are they? Did they get out safely? Tell me!” The shadow tugged at the person’s shirt desperately, accidentally ripping her sleeve in the process.
     “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” the shadow stuttered, mortified.
     The girl looked like she had just seen all her family members die in front of her, but she shook her head. “I’m not upset about that. It’s just-“ She turned around, her shoulders shaking. “It was so silly of me to think that this was going to be easy…”
     “Well, what is it?” asked the shadow. “Did they get out safe? Are they alive and well?”
     “They’re dead,” said the girl, with a disheartened expression. “Originality and all the others were part of the Ideas Desk. Now that the Ideas Desk is gone, so are they.” She put her head down and began trudging away. “I’m sorry.”
     The shadow looked at her incredulously. “That’s it?”
     “What?” The girl turned around and gave the shadow a bemused expression. “I just told you-“
     “No,” the shadow said with conviction. “No. You’re telling me that all this has happened, and everyone’s just giving up? There has to be something that can be done. There always is.”
     The shadow expected her to glare, or look scornful, or begin laughing at him, but instead, she looked thoughtful.
     “I knew I chose a good protagonist.”
     “What?”
     “Ah, nothing,” the girl began fidgeting with her hair, flustered. “It’s nothing. But I do think I have something for you.”
     She handed him a fountain pen, an antique one that looked like it belonged in a museum. While the shadow had no idea what it was for, he could feel a certain feeling of considerable weight, a feeling of importance, responsibility from it.
     “What is this for?”
     “It’s a pen. You write with it,” said the girl, matter of factly.
     “I know that,” said the shadow in exasperation. “But how can this possibly help me?”
     “Well,” the girl said, “This may look like a simple tool, but it’s actually something quite powerful. It’s something that can create people, places, whole worlds.”
     She pressed it firmly into the shadow’s palm, looking at him with eyes that somehow felt familiar; eyes that made him feel like he had known her his entire life. “Now it’s yours to use as you choose.”
     The girl began walking away again but the shadow ran up to her, panting. “So you’re asking me to create?”
     She nodded solemnly.
     “But why a pen, of all things? And why me?”
     “It’s a little cliché, but I’ve always been partial to the saying ‘The pen is mightier than the sword,’” said the girl, flushing a bit. “And I know you can do great things with that pen. I know you can.”
     The girl checked her watch and sighed. “I’m already running short on time. I’ll have to get going now.”
     She turned around, once again, to walk away, but the shadow called out, “Wait! I don’t even know your name!”
     She turned her head and shouted, “You can just call me The Writer!” She turned and ran, but as a last thought, she cried out, “Goodbye Curiosity! It was great knowing you while it lasted!”
     The newly dubbed Curiosity could only watch as even the figure of The Writer disappeared, leaving only clouds of dust and a faint memory of important things said and even more important things left unsaid, left for him to figure out.
     Curiosity gripped the pen and turned back to where the Ideas Desk once stood, suddenly noticing bare walls that he hadn’t seen before.
     He looked at the blank walls for a while before beginning to write: “A shadow walked along the crumbling ruins of the empty city, not really sure where it was headed…”

    Curiosity uses the pen The Writer gave him to account all his experiences. Though it takes a long time, eventually the city of Inspiration is brought to its former glory, and Curiosity builds himself a new Ideas Desk.
     He survives on his own ideas for a while, but he knows it’s impossible to make enough ideas for everyone on his own, so he put a “Help Wanted” sign on the (now larger) door.
     The next day, he is met by all the faces of the old Ideas Desk, but they do not recall anything that has happened. He gladly welcomes them in, and allows them to take back their old positions.
     Though Curiosity is satisfied with everything the way it is, he begins to feel restless. Originality asks him what’s wrong. He replies, “Everything has been settled here, but there’s still other places that lack Inspiration. I can just feel it.”
     Originality looks at him knowingly, and tells him that his adventure is not over. The next day, Curiosity packs and leaves the Ideas Desk, entrusting it in Explanations’ hands while he is gone.
     Curiosity has yet to find a permanent residence anywhere. He goes everywhere that lacks Inspiration, encouraging creators to continue creating, and fights Discouragement wherever he appears.
     The Ideas Desk is still holding strong. If you go there now, Originality always smiles and points at the two most important words that Curiosity wrote on the walls of the old Ideas Desk: What if?

Inspiration: An abandoned, desolate city in the beginning, it is the home of the Ideas Desk and all those working there. In the hands of Curiosity, it is restored to its former glory, becoming the home place for good ideas once more.

Dreams: Another city, not that far from Inspiration. It gets exported ideas from the Ideas Desk, and weaves them into tapestries of different lengths and colors. It specializes in good dreams, odd dreams, déjà vu dreams, and the occasional nightmare.

Writer’s Block: Writer’s Block is an odd little area that wanders from place to place. The occasional idea gets exported here to construct great big walls that are impossible to pass under or over. The walls are only broken down when someone manages to find a creative way to pass through and use the ideas that the walls are made of.

Music: A city that receives ideas to create note blocks that are constantly rearranged to make stories. Home of punk, classical, rock, pop, reggae, dubstep, EDM, and everything in between.

Curiosity: The initially reluctant protagonist of our story. Referred to as “the shadow” through the majority of the story, Curiosity wields the power of the pen to create new worlds and restore others. He becomes a wanderer who encourages others, and fights off Discouragement when he is needed.

Originality: The peppy receptionist of the Ideas Desk, she is often mistaken for her sister Creativity. She is good natured, but can put off people sometimes. Though she annoys Explanations to no end, he begrudgingly admits that the Ideas Desk just wouldn’t be the same without her.

Explanations: Described simply as a tall figure, Explanations loves planning, and becomes agitated when he is forced to abandon his plans. He is responsible for all the exposition in a story, and has a long spat with Discouragement, whom he is extremely distrustful of.

Discouragement: The antagonist of the story. Discouragement was one of the first residents of the city of Inspiration and would often harass the townspeople with his vials of Doubt. He was thrown out of the city by the Ideas Desk, which was losing potential consumers due to Discouragement’s antics. Discouragement is very flamboyant and melodramatic and loves making long monologues and flashy entrances.

Other characters: Conflict, Plot, Creativity, Details, Poetry, Prose, Dialogue, Setting, Word Choice, Climax, Genre, Characterization, Grammar, etc.