Black Moon Draw

It's me, the only person who can break the curse, who can make a nonexistent world exist, because I believe enough for it to be. The clues to the true power I possess have been in front of me all along.

But am I too late?

Standing, I return to where I entered my apartment from Black Moon Draw and begin looking for the door to return. It has to be here; I stepped into that world from my apartment and returned here. I push open the door to the bathroom. It's definitely my bathroom, down to the litter box beside the sink.

I'm not sure if hope or pure terror is building inside me, but it ignites my adrenaline once again and dashes my sorrow. I ransack my place, opening every cabinet, closet, crawlspace and kitty hiding spot, down to the ottoman that acts as storage, seeking some way back to where I belong.

There's nothing. Breathing hard, I stand in the middle of my apartment, mind racing.

Ding. I look back at my computer and see the chat window blinking once more. I trip over the magazine rack I dumped in the middle of the floor and eagerly seize the mouse to click the chat window open.

An author creates a world. The reader brings it to life. If you want Black Moon Draw to exist, it will. You are the heart of this story. It's totally up to you! LF's message reads.

I'm right. I am the Heart, the reason Black Moon Draw exists, the key to it surviving. A second message pops up.

Oh, as for how to get back . . . try the front door. It usually works LOL

"Dammit, Naia!" The one door I didn't open, assuming it'd lead straight into the hallway. I don't bother to respond but go to the front door and stare at it.

My body hums with anxious energy. "This is my story," I whisper. To break the curse, to save him, I must open the door and go home. If I don't believe enough to do it, Black Moon Draw ceases to exist.

I have a choice between two worlds, one that makes me feel alive and one where I'm a mushroom.

There was a time where I would've given anything to return to my apartment and boring life. Standing on the ledge, getting ready to jump into the unknown, uncertain if he'll be there to catch me, if anything will be left of Black Moon Draw . . .

"I don't care," I whisper. "I'm not a mushroom anymore. I'm not a coward either, Atreyu. This is what I want. I want the curse broken, the fog gone and for you to see . . . the blue sky." I stop, struggling not to cry. "My heart belongs in Black Moon Draw."