Mark the Scribe of True Dreams

Once upon a time, long ago in Ouport, there was a story thief named Amber.
Amber would listen to others’ tales. Everyone thought that She was their friend. But after listening to them, Amber would go home and write down the stories in her magical book.
Every time Amber write down a story in her magical book, it would be copied into thousands of other books on another plane of existence.
On this other plane, Amber’s stories became very well known and popular. But they were not her own.
One day, Ambers friend Mark shared with her a story that he had been working on for some time.
Amber listened closely to her friend’s story, but while she was listening, she was actually thinking, I bet I could improve Mark’s story.
That afternoon, Amber returned to her home and began to write down Mark’s story. She changed a few details here and there, but it was still essentially his story.
She got the story so close to the original, in fact, that Mark recognized it. You see, Amber was not the only writer in Outport with a magical notebook.
And when Mark tried to write down his story into his notebook, and send it out into other Planes, it was laughed at and ridiculed for being a fraud and a copy.
Everyone had already read the story in the other Planes. But they thought it was Amber’s story and not his.
And so it was that Mark plotted his revenge.
He found an Alchemist who knew how to make an ink that would make a person actually become a part of a story, if they were written into it.
Mark wrote a very detailed and very realistic story about his friend Amber, using the Alchemist’s magical ink. It was so true to life that Mark shuddered at what he was about to do, just as he was finishing the last sentence.
But as he paused over the last line, he saw Amber outside his cottage, coming up the walk, her book under one arm.(edited)
In a rush of anger, Mark finished the last line. And in that instant, Amber disappeared. Her book fell to the steps of Mark’s walk.(edited)
Mark felt a moment of satisfaction. But then remorse. How could he do this to another person? In turmoil, he went outside and picked up his friend’s book off the steps.(edited)
It had fallen open to the last page of writing, on which he read, “I’m sorry, the last story I wrote belonged to my friend Mark. He deserves all the credit.”
As he read that, something inside of Mark snapped. His remorse turned to self-loathing. And that became rage. The pain inside could find no relief, but at least he could destroy those who caused him hurt. Mark Steinhoff of Outport never meant to be a villain. But it was many years before anyone was able to discover why people around him kept disappearing. And by then, for many of his victims, it was already too late. Because anyone who was harmed in one of his stories was harmed for real. And any who died in their story, could not be brought back.
Strangely, those who did not die in their stories became immortal in them. Preserved forever, if the book they were written into was never dispelled.
Every effort was made to find all of Mark’s books and notebooks, and release all those he imprisoned. But not every victim was accounted for, so perhaps there are still some left in or around Outport, trapped in sheets of paper or parchment to this very day.
The End

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