By the drawing room window, where they had stood together so long ago, Dreadlilocks told the story of her journey on the moon to Azor. Then she told him about what she’d been doing since she gained the power to write.

“…I just wanted to talk to a friend,” Dreadli explained. “I’ve been practicing for such a long time, and I’ve been so lonely…I don’t think Mr. Jack understood about that when he left me here. I’m not a god yet; I’m still just a person who needs other people…anyway, I’m still a little nervous about writing people I know, so I picked you because…well, if I accidentally did something wrong, you’d be able to protect yourself. Because you’re so powerful and strong.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” said Azor. “I’m still waiting to hear why you butchered my roses.”

“Well, I tried my best…I thought I could ‘borrow’ the garden, but it turns out that Jack didn’t write you; Mère L’Oye did, so it didn’t come out quite right…I had to make some stuff up…”

“Evidently…”

“…You know, Mr. Azor, I think you’re being a little too mean about this…! I only tried to bring you back to your home because I thought it would make you happy! Maybe I didn’t do it perfectly, but it’s the thought that counts!”

“Even if you had done it perfectly, it would only have been an ephemeral lie.” He switched his eye-tail. “And speaking of the ephemeral…may I ask what the nature of my existence is here, or are you not experienced enough in godhood to answer??”

“Um…” Dreadlilocks broke into a cold sweat. “I…I know how to answer, I just don’t know all the fancy words…it’s…well…you’re not dead. Sort of…”

“Could you be more specific…?”

She pulled Jack’s infinite book out of her basket and flipped through it. “Okay, well…you were unwritten, but that’s a…’metaphysical event’, so it’s easy to reverse because you can just pretend it didn’t happen,” she explained. “But since this is my dream, it’s only a ‘temporary domain’, so after I wake up you’ll be gone again, and then that has to be fixed…I guess what I’m trying to say is that you can be alive again, and I can put you back in your real home, just not yet. And also, you’ll probably remember this, but as a dream.”

“Must I? I’d rather forget…”

“Mr. Azor…!”

“Alright, fine; you won’t hear any more complaints from me. But don’t think that means you’re forgiven…” He sat back in an armchair. “…In any case, I don’t think there is any point in prolonging this encounter. If you’ve finished alleviating your loneliness, please return me to the void…or wherever you procured my soul…”

“Don’t say stuff like that; you’re making me sound all scary…” Dreadli combed her fingers through her locs. “Besides…before you go, I wanted to try writing everyone else, too. So we can all be together, like before.”

“Are you no longer afraid that you might ‘do something wrong’?”

“I…I don’t know. I guess I shouldn’t be…like I said, I practiced a lot, and I’m probably ready. But it’s still scary when it’s someone you care about…I’m going to try anyway, though. That’s what I have to do: just, be confident, and believe in myself, and try!”

“Well, then; by all means,” said Azor. “It’s not as if I have any say in the matter…”

Dreadlilocks took a deep breath, and let it out. Then she pulled a bundle of cloth and pins from her basket, and began to sew.

Slowly and carefully, she stitched three new patches on: one bright pink one with royal purple spots, one dark gray one with sharp green stripes, and one pale blue one with a delicate swirl pattern.

The air around her flickered like a candle in the wind. Time stopped; the world itself began to shake and unravel.

Finally, she pulled the thread taut one last time, knotted it, and snipped the needle free with her gilded scissors.

She looked up to examine her work.