The Chronicler
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Scritch, scritch.

A young girl sat alone in her room, writing on a blank sheet of paper.

She knew that fiction was taboo nowadays, but she just couldn't help herself. It was the only thing that entertained her anymore — she'd already been out and seen The Library, and was overwhelmed by its vastness immediately.

No, the life of a shut-in was the life she had chosen, for the outside world was vast and densely populated, and it was rather loud too. She had foregone formal education, but had managed to find herself a job in this section of The Library — as the new Chronicler of a host of accounts.

Although fiction was banned in The Library, accounts of events that had already occurred did not seem to pose any problem, and the people who lived in The Library, with their fervent desire to write, had pounced upon this opportunity and created a whole new job just for documenting every little thing that happened on every little day.

The Chroniclers, as you might expect, were rather overworked. People would come in from all over The Library and give detailed accounts of their days, or whatever parts they found interesting, and the Chroniclers would write them down as they came. Luckily, with the advent of recording devices, not much got lost to the tides of time anymore. In the past, they had had a major issue with people speaking quicker than they could write.

But this young girl had the day off, today. So why was she still sitting in her office? Well, the answer to that question is that she was homeless. Orphaned too, no less. She didn't even know her own name, and had nowhere to go but for her new Chronicler's office in The Library.

On her days off, she would often go out to the local park and sit and admire the local wildlife. It was hard to tell what was real and what was fictional anymore, but all of it was just as fascinating to her. She found it pleasant that in a world surrounded by musty old books and constricting wooden rooms, people had still found a way to preserve nature and intertwined it throughout the very fabric of The Library.

Today, however, there was a celebration. What they were celebrating, she didn't care, for all she knew was that the outside world was currently very loud and very scary. She wished that someone was there to hold her and hang out with her, keep her company and pass the time while the celebrations proceeded. And then she was struck with an idea so obvious, she exclaimed aloud to no one in particular,

"Why didn't I think of that sooner?!"

And so, here she was, writing a new piece of fiction, although she knew it was taboo and she could get in major trouble were she to be caught. With a satisfied smile, she set down her pencil, tipped with blue lace agate and citrine, and admired the words she had put on the page.

On a loud and lonely day, a little girl wandered her way
Into The Chronicler's office, where she found tucked away
Another little girl, scared and afraid
And thus she asked her
"Will you be my friend?"
And the two lived happily ever after.

There was a knock at the door. Beaming, the girl jumped up and opened the door, her face full of excitement, until —

"Chronicler." came the soft, but reprimanding tone, so soothing as to be scary.

"Y-yes, Lorelei?" asked The Chronicler.

A tall and motherly figure stood outside of the door, and she held up by the scruff of her neck a young girl with blue and red patterns checkered over her clothing. She smiled meekly at The Chronicler inside her office, while Lorelei did her best to cast a scowl downwards. The Chronicler's face immediately blanched.

"Does this belong to you?" Lorelei asked.

"H-hi." waved the girl.

The Chronicler blinked in shock, and responded "No, I don't believe I've ever seen her before, and if I had I wouldn't say she belonged to me."

Lorelei lowered the girl and put her hand on her hip, tilting her head at The Chronicler and scowling.

"Oh, come off it. You know that I have an innate sense for these things, Chronicler. You can't hide the fact that you wrote this new figment. Look, I can see the paper on your desk."

The Chronicler looked back at her desk, where the paper and several pencils laid strewn about, open for all to see. Her ears burned red as she blushed in embarrassment.

"S-sorry, Lorelei. I didn't mean to."

"Of course you did, dear. You don't just write a figment on accident."

Lorelei set the girl down, and leaned down on her knees to face The Chronicler. Her scowl dropped, and she put on a soft smile.

"Now, would you mind telling me why you wrote this figment? I'm not mad, just curious."

The girl sneaked past Lorelei and stood beside The Chronicler, looking nervously between the two.

The Chronicler gulped and said, "W-well, I um… I was feeling kind of lonely. And it's really loud out there, so I didn't want to go out and hang out with anyone."

Lorelei nodded in understanding. "So you wrote yourself up a new friend, is that it?"

The Chronicler nodded in shame.

Lorelei sighed, and stood up, patting The Chronicler on the head.

"Look… I'll let it slide this time, but don't go writing any more figments. If the Head Librarian finds out I let you do this, it's off with both of our heads."

"Y-yes, Lorelei. I promise I won't write any more."

"Good. Now, go have fun with your new friend, dear. I have to go back to work. The Chroniclers may be off today, but their manager has to stay here and prepare everything for the next day. See you."

"Bye, Lorelei." called The Chronicler, as she waved the woman goodbye.

"Bye, Lorelei." eked out the girl standing beside her.

The Chronicler sighed, and sat back down at her desk. She picked up the piece of paper she had just been writing on, and flipped a coin in her head. Having landed on heads, she went over and laminated the paper, then stuffed it into one of her desk drawers. It would be safe there.

The other girl stood meekly beside her, and watched as The Chronicler moved about her office. She coughed, getting the Chronicler's attention.

"Will you be my friend?" she asked.

"Of course. What's your name?" asked The Chronicler.

"Oh, my name's uh… Duoca. That feels right." responded Duoca.

"That's a pretty name. My name is… well, I don't have one, but you can call me The Chronicler."

And so the two girls became friends.

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