Coincidence. At what point does that word lose meaning? When can we as a society say that there is a causal effect and not an anomalous happenstance to a series of events? According to the government, it's once the creatures of your horror novels start appearing within minutes of a blog post. At first, I was believed to be paying maniacs to play out events of my blog to gain notoriety. That theory flew out the window as soon as the zombies were deemed to be actual zombies. Something to do with a couple of sharp shooters who claimed confirmed kills only to be attacked by a wight with an exploded chest cavity. They had placed me under house arrest, and then moved me to a secure location, and now here I am, in a dark room, iron bars surrounding me. Hannibal in chains, I thought to myself. But I'm not a bad person, I didn't mean for this to happen. I was just writing, and it happened to come true. I didn't know that real people would die, that my words would speak louder than any single persons actions. I'm not God, I'm a writer for heavens sake.

Jus then, a young Indian doctor, Dr. Shah slipped into my room.

"They can't stop it," she whimpered looking at me, "Your creations. They'll kill everything!"

She had been crying, it was clear. A big difference from the confident professional she had been when taking blood tests, measuring pupil dilation and whatever else they did to me before.

"They can't stop it, but you can," she whispered, pulling out a pen and notebook, "You can write them away. I have to believe that no one could possibly want what's happening out there. Children being tortured, innocent people being killed by the thousands. You can stop it, all you have to do is write them gone!"

Oh how young you are to believe all that. But she was right about me. I didn't want this, it had just happened. I slowly nodded. She let out a huge sob of relief and ran towards me, pen and notebook outstretched.

"Oh, thank you, thank you! I just knew you would do the right thing!" She practically yelled out, tears streaming down her face. She ran out of the room, still thanking me as she did so.

I looked down on the empty page. The right thing. What a strange concept that was. Here we are, in a society of creatures where every single one presumes to know what the right thing is. The right God, the right skin color, the right food. It leads to blood and death much more than I had possibly wreaked. It leads to anger and slowly but surely the death of this planet. I wrote down the title of my final piece, "The Right Thing". The paper was very good quality, and the pen must've been expensive. It felt good to write it, smooth and easy. This journal she had given me must've been Dr. Shahs own. What a poor innocent girl she seemed, so unaware of the horrors that surrounded her. I didn't mean the creepy, violent fantasies that had spawned from my mind, but these fucking people. More terrifying than a werewolf, more cunning than Satan. Perfecting their ability to destroy and kill, but not even at a rate fast enough to slow the growth of their virus on this beautiful blue and green planet. I could do it. I could save it, and all of the amazing creatures here. Would that be "The Right Thing"? I began writing, marveling again at how smoothly the pen swept across the pages. I wrote and wrote and wrote, smiling the entire time. It was a masterpiece.