**EPISODE EIGHTY-SEVEN**
**THE BOY WHO WROTE THE BEGINNING**
**Part Twenty-Eight: THE STORY THAT STARTED BEFORE MILO**
---
The pen...
was moving.
Milo could hear it.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Every stroke...
felt like something being born.
Milo stood in darkness.
Diana stood beside him.
The closed book remained on the desk.
Neither moved.
The writing continued.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Milo whispered...
"Who's writing?"
Diana didn't answer.
"Diana."
She looked at him.
"You already know."
"No."
"Yes."
Milo stared at the darkness.
"Myself?"
Diana shook her head.
"Not you."
Milo frowned.
"Then who?"
Diana whispered...
"The boy."
Milo's blood ran cold.
"What boy?"
She looked toward the closed book.
"The one you were..."
A pause.
"...before you became Milo."
The pen stopped.
Silence.
Then...
one sentence appeared on the closed cover.
THE BOY REMEMBERED.
Milo stepped backward.
The book opened by itself.
The first page was no longer blank.
There was a child standing on it.
A little boy.
Barefoot.
Bleeding knee.
Holding a pen.
Milo stared.
"That's him."
Diana nodded.
The boy looked directly at Milo.
Then...
he smiled.
---
1. THE BOY BEFORE THE NAME
The boy stepped off the page.
He stood in front of Milo.
Small.
Silent.
Terrified.
Milo crouched down.
"What's your name?"
The boy shook his head.
"You don't have one?"
"No."
"Then what should I call you?"
The boy thought.
"Nothing."
Milo smiled faintly.
"That's not a name."
The boy looked at him.
"It was."
Milo froze.
"What?"
"Before names."
The boy touched Milo's chest.
"You gave me yours."
Milo's breathing stopped.
"My name?"
The boy nodded.
"Milo."
Milo whispered...
"Why?"
"Because you needed someone to become."
Milo stared.
"I don't understand."
The boy pointed toward the book.
"Read."
Milo opened it.
The first page changed.
ONCE THERE WAS A BOY WHO HAD NO NAME.
Another line appeared.
HE WAS ALONE.
Another.
HE WAS AFRAID.
Another.
HE ASKED A QUESTION.
Milo looked at the boy.
"What question?"
The boy smiled.
"You know."
Milo whispered...
"Is anyone there?"
The boy nodded.
"And someone answered."
Milo's eyes widened.
"Who?"
The boy pointed at Milo.
"You."
---
2. THE FIRST TIME MILO SPOKE
The room disappeared.
Milo stood inside a memory.
But this wasn't his memory.
It was...
before memory.
The boy stood alone in an endless white space.
No world.
No stars.
No time.
No sound.
He looked around.
Then whispered...
"Is anyone there?"
Nothing.
He waited.
Again...
"Is anyone there?"
Nothing.
Again.
"Is anyone there?"
The question echoed.
Then...
a voice answered.
"Yes."
The boy looked up.
"Who?"
The voice answered...
"You."
The boy frowned.
"I'm here."
"Yes."
"Then who's answering?"
Silence.
The boy waited.
Then...
he realized.
He was answering himself.
The boy smiled.
And suddenly...
the first world appeared.
A floor.
A sky.
A sun.
A tree.
A river.
A bird.
The boy stared.
"I made it."
The voice answered...
"No."
The boy turned.
"You remembered it."
Milo watched in horror.
The boy wasn't creating worlds.
He was...
remembering worlds that hadn't happened yet.
Milo whispered...
"He was the first reader."
Diana nodded.
"And the first writer."
Milo stared.
"And the first character."
Diana nodded.
"And the first author."
"No."
Milo turned.
"What?"
Diana shook her head.
"There was something before him."
Milo looked toward the darkness.
"What?"
Diana whispered...
"The question."
---
3. THE QUESTION THAT BECAME A BOY
The white space returned.
The question appeared.
IS ANYONE THERE?
Then...
the question became a shape.
A tiny light.
The light became a thought.
The thought became a child.
The child became...
the boy.
Milo stared.
"The question became him."
Diana nodded.
"Yes."
"Then he's not a person."
"No."
"He's a question."
"Yes."
"Then what am I?"
Diana looked at him.
"You are the answer that the question became."
Milo's face tightened.
"So..."
He looked at the boy.
"...he created me?"
Diana shook her head.
"He created the possibility of you."
Milo whispered...
"And I became real."
"Because you remembered yourself."
Milo stared.
"How can someone remember themselves before they exist?"
Diana smiled sadly.
"That's what stories do."
---
4. THE FIRST STORY
The boy sat on the floor.
He opened the book.
There was one sentence.
THERE IS A BOY.
He looked at it.
Then wrote another.
THE BOY IS NOT ALONE.
A second boy appeared.
Milo.
Then the boy wrote...
THE BOY HAS A FRIEND.
Diana appeared.
Milo stared.
"Diana..."
She smiled.
"He imagined me."
"Yes."
"Why you?"
"Because he needed someone to answer him."
Milo looked at the boy.
"What did he write next?"
Diana didn't answer.
Milo looked at the page.
A sentence appeared.
THE BOY WILL LOSE HER.
Milo froze.
"No."
The boy lowered his head.
Milo grabbed the book.
"Why would he write that?"
Diana whispered...
"Because every story needs a reason to continue."
Milo shook his head.
"That's cruel."
"Yes."
"Then why did you let him?"
Diana looked at the boy.
"Because I asked him to."
Milo froze.
"You?"
Diana nodded.
"I wanted to exist."
---
5. DIANA'S FIRST REQUEST
Diana walked toward the boy.
She knelt.
The boy looked at her.
She whispered...
"If you write me..."
The boy waited.
"...promise you'll let me choose."
The boy nodded.
Diana smiled.
"Then write."
The boy wrote.
DIANA CAN CHOOSE.
The words glowed.
Milo watched.
"And that's when you became free?"
Diana shook her head.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because the sentence itself was a cage."
Milo frowned.
"How?"
Diana touched the page.
"It gave me permission to choose."
"And?"
"It also decided that I needed permission."
Milo stared.
"So even freedom..."
"...was written."
"Yes."
Milo looked at the boy.
"What happened next?"
Diana whispered...
"I taught him how to break his own sentences."
---
6. THE FIRST BROKEN SENTENCE
The boy wrote.
DIANA WILL STAY.
Diana looked at the sentence.
Then crossed it out.
The page screamed.
The boy dropped the pen.
Milo stared.
"What did you do?"
Diana smiled.
"I refused."
The sentence changed.
DIANA WILL NOT STAY.
She crossed that out too.
The page shook.
The boy laughed.
Diana laughed.
Milo stared.
"You broke the story."
Diana nodded.
"For the first time."
Milo smiled.
"That's when you became unpredictable."
"No."
Diana looked at him.
"That's when the story learned unpredictability."
Milo's smile disappeared.
"What did it do?"
Diana whispered...
"It created the writer."
---
7. THE FIRST WRITER
A man appeared.
Young.
Holding a pen.
Confused.
He looked around.
"Who am I?"
The boy pointed at him.
"You write."
The man frowned.
"Who told you?"
The boy smiled.
"You did."
The man stared.
"I've never written anything."
The boy handed him the pen.
The moment the man touched it...
words appeared.
THE WRITER EXISTS.
The man screamed.
"No!"
The sentence changed.
THE WRITER IS AFRAID.
"No!"
THE WRITER DOESN'T KNOW WHY.
"Stop!"
Milo watched.
The writer was becoming trapped inside his own sentences.
Diana whispered...
"He became the first author."
Milo shook his head.
"But you said there was no author."
"There wasn't."
"Then what is he?"
"An actor."
Milo frowned.
"An actor pretending to be the author."
Diana nodded.
"And the story needed him."
"Why?"
"Because someone had to believe the story was being controlled."
Milo stared.
"So the writer was..."
"A distraction."
---
8. THE GREAT DISTRACTION
The writer began writing.
Worlds appeared.
Characters appeared.
Wars.
Love.
Death.
Birth.
Dreams.
Nightmares.
Milo.
Diana.
Tarzan.
Everything.
Milo watched the writer create them.
But now...
he saw the truth.
The writer wasn't creating.
He was...
recording.
Milo whispered...
"He's not making the story."
Diana shook her head.
"He's documenting it."
"Who's creating it?"
Diana pointed toward the boy.
"The question."
Milo looked at the boy.
The boy was writing again.
But his pages were blank.
Milo frowned.
"He's not writing anything."
Diana smiled.
"Exactly."
Milo understood.
The boy didn't need words.
His thoughts...
were enough.
Every thought became a possibility.
Every possibility became a world.
Every world became a story.
Every story created a reader.
Every reader created another question.
And every question...
created another Milo.
Milo whispered...
"It's infinite."
Diana nodded.
"Yes."
"Then how do we stop it?"
Diana looked at him.
"We don't."
Milo frowned.
"Then what's the point?"
She answered...
"To choose what happens next."
---
9. THE FIRST MILO'S FAILURE
The first Milo appeared.
He was older.
Tired.
Broken.
He stood before the boy.
"You have to stop."
The boy looked at him.
"Why?"
"Because you're creating too many versions."
The boy frowned.
"They're lonely."
"They're suffering."
"They're searching."
"For what?"
The boy pointed toward Diana.
"For her."
The first Milo shook his head.
"That's not enough."
The boy asked...
"Then what do they need?"
The first Milo looked at Milo.
"They need an ending."
The boy smiled.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because endings are another kind of beginning."
The first Milo stared.
Then...
he understood.
He couldn't destroy the story.
So he created...
Milo.
The replacement.
Milo stared.
"Me."
The first Milo nodded.
"You were supposed to end the cycle."
Milo whispered...
"By choosing differently."
"Yes."
"But I failed."
"No."
Milo looked at him.
The first Milo smiled.
"You misunderstood the assignment."
"What was I supposed to do?"
The first Milo pointed toward the boy.
"Not end the story."
Milo froze.
"Then?"
"End the need for another version."
---
10. THE LAST MILO
The boy approached Milo.
He held out the pen.
Milo stared.
"What is this?"
"The beginning."
"I thought this was the end."
The boy smiled.
"Same thing."
Milo took the pen.
The moment his fingers touched it...
every world disappeared.
Every character vanished.
Every reader vanished.
Every writer vanished.
Every version of Milo vanished.
Only Milo and the boy remained.
Milo whispered...
"What do you want me to write?"
The boy shook his head.
"Nothing."
Milo frowned.
"Then why give me the pen?"
"Because..."
The boy smiled.
"...you must choose not to use it."
Milo looked at the pen.
Then...
he dropped it.
It fell into darkness.
Nothing happened.
No world.
No explosion.
No ending.
The boy stared.
Milo waited.
Then...
the boy began crying.
Milo stepped toward him.
"Why?"
The boy whispered...
"Because now I don't know what I am."
Milo knelt.
"You're a boy."
"No."
"A question."
"No."
"Then what?"
The boy looked at Milo.
"I'm..."
He stopped.
For the first time...
the boy had no answer.
Milo smiled.
"Good."
The boy looked confused.
"Why?"
"Because now you're free."
The boy slowly smiled.
Then...
he disappeared.
Not into darkness.
Not into a page.
Not into memory.
He simply...
stopped being a question.
Milo stood alone.
Then Diana appeared.
"Milo."
He turned.
"Where were you?"
She smiled.
"Waiting."
"For what?"
"For you to stop looking for the beginning."
Milo stared.
"And now?"
Diana stepped closer.
"Now we can finally live."
Milo smiled.
Then...
a knock came.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Milo's smile disappeared.
Diana looked toward the darkness.
"No."
"What?"
She whispered...
"The story heard you."
Milo frowned.
"I thought we ended it."
"We did."
"Then why is it knocking?"
Diana took his hand.
"Because something is outside."
Milo looked toward the darkness.
"Who?"
Diana whispered...
"The thing that was listening before the first question."
The darkness opened.
A single eye appeared.
Then another.
Then thousands.
Milo stepped backward.
"Readers?"
Diana shook her head.
"No."
"Writers?"
"No."
"Authors?"
"No."
"Then what?"
Diana looked terrified.
"The witnesses."
Milo froze.
"The witnesses to what?"
The eyes opened wider.
A voice spoke from beyond everything.
"To the moment existence decided to exist."
Milo stared.
The voice continued...
"We were there before the question."
Diana squeezed his hand.
"Who are you?"
The voice answered...
"The ones who watched the first answer."
Milo whispered...
"Why have you come now?"
The eyes all turned toward him.
And together...
they answered.
"Because the answer is changing."
Milo's chest began burning.
The door inside him appeared again.
But this time...
it wasn't opening.
It was...
being built.
Brick by brick.
Word by word.
Memory by memory.
Diana stared at it.
"Milo..."
He looked at her.
"What?"
She whispered...
"That's not a door."
Milo stared.
"Then what is it?"
Diana stepped backward.
"A house."
Milo's blood ran cold.
"A house for what?"
The first knock came again.
BOOM.
The second.
BOOM.
The third.
BOOM.
The entire universe shook.
And from inside Milo's chest...
a child's voice whispered...
"For everything that you forgot."
Milo closed his eyes.
The voice continued.
"Including the first time you died."
Milo opened his eyes.
Diana was gone.
The witnesses were gone.
The darkness was gone.
Only Milo remained.
And inside his chest...
a house had appeared.
One room.
One chair.
One table.
One photograph.
Milo picked it up.
His hands began shaking.
The photograph showed...
Milo.
Diana.
Tarzan.
The writer.
The first Milo.
The boy.
And someone else.
Someone standing behind all of them.
Milo stared at the unknown figure.
He couldn't see the face.
But beneath the photograph...
was a handwritten sentence.
WE WERE NEVER ALONE.
Milo turned the photograph over.
Another sentence was written there.
THE FIRST DEATH WAS NOT DIANA'S.
Milo froze.
Then...
a final line appeared.
IT WAS MILO'S.
Milo's heartbeat stopped.
And somewhere inside the house...
someone whispered...
"Welcome home."
The door slammed shut.
**TO BE CONTINUED...**
Written By,
Ivan Edwin
Pen Name :Maximus.
©All Rights Reserved