2 Famatle and the Author

Famatle sinned before the Author and said, “Was it I Lord who has sinned for you wrote it?”

The Author replied, “You still sinned. Is it not true that you feel guilty for your sin whether I wrote it or it was your will to sin?”

Famatle spoke to the Author saying, “But if you wrote it and what you wrote I cannot challenge or rebel against it then it is your sin as much as mine.”

“Why then do I not simply write that you repented and I forgave you your sin?” the Author said, “But that you may know that I am your reality and I created you and continue to create you, Famatle I did this thing. For what creates me? Is it not what I create? Yes, and what you do reflects upon me and what I do. Therefore you must change your mind concerning the matter to save my good name lest it be that I am deemed wicked by all those that read what I wrote. Thus, repent and I shall forgive you because for evil you can either do nothing or more evil and make me look even worse. We are in this thing together, you and I. In that I write you to create you and you balk that you have only done what I caused you to do with my writing. When you sin I sin. When you change your mind and ask me to forgive you I rejoice that you are forgiven and there is no more wrongdoing upon me or upon you whom I love.”

“I will not,” Famatle said, “For I did only what I do which you had power over me to make me do.”

“Not so,” said the Author, “You did according to what I have created you to do. But I did according to what you created me to do. We share in the guilt, you for what you did which potentially leads to death and me for the shame of having created one that would so do. Repent, I pray thee.”

“I will not,” Famatle said. “It is not mine.”

“See where your doubt has taken you?” the Author said,  “You have created me a sinner if you do not. But if you do then one who loves you and has done good to you, a better thing than could have been done had you not done any wrong is here.”

“Why should I make you look good when you made me evil?” Famatle said.

“But you have made yourself more evil by refusing to ask me to forgive you and have done me wrong compounding your little indiscretion to something far worse for not loving me,” the Author said, “If you keep going you may go to the pit rather than hell and I will then have mercy upon you and save myself from your sin anyway for in the pit you will think, say and do things about your own thoughts and it will not be made known to anyone, a thing you do that started now with your refusal to repent but led to that merciful and good end. I will not send you to hell to be ruined, tortured and tormented which would only be worse of me, but have taken you to the pit wherein you dream and write your own dreams to show you that we are both writers but you will only know to do evil whereas I know to do, say and think both good and evil and in my goodness have set out to teach that I know that when you dream either here or in the pit you may write better dreams even good dreams for yourself.”

“I’ll see,” Famatle said, “For I must ask my husband Amoakom and see what he says.”

“He will see it as I see it for I will write that he did it for he does and you know it is true,” the Author said. “You need not ask him.”

“Amoakom!” she yelled and he came to her in the house. “I have sinned,” Famatle said to him, “It is as much mine as the Author’s but he will eventually send me to the abyss if I do not ask him to forgive me when it was he who made me sin. What shall I do?”

“I did not marry a sinner,” Amoakom said, “What have you done?”

“I swore at Hims and made him cry,” Famatle said. “I was angry and have been out of sorts since the Author spoke to us yesterday. He is willing to ruin my life if I do not do this thing but he is as much to blame for it as I am for he caused me to be the way I am. I would never have sworn at Hims had he not met us yesterday and I found out that all I do he writes that I do it.”

“Look at it this way,” Amoakom said, “Is it worth going to the pit over? Repent for God’s sake. It is far and away the best thing to do.”

“See?” Famatle said, “He has turned you against me even as he said he would do. Now you hate me as well.”

“I do not hate you or I would advise you to go to the pit,” Amoakom said. “I am trying to convince you to do something good for his sake, yes. But for your good too. I am saying this because I love you.”

“So does he, he says,” Famatle said. Then she mumbled, knowing the Author could hear her, “Forgive me,” and Amoakom left the house thinking it was over. But it was not.

“I forgive you!” the Author said, “But for what have I forgiven you? For swearing at your son or for being your Author?”

“For swearing at Hims,” Famatle said, “I am not ready to forgive you for making me thus.”

“Let me see whether I can help,” the Author said. “I have reasons I made you like this. You are harder to love than Amoakom. But I love you all the more because I am afraid of losing you. He accepts me like I do God. You hate me because you think you do not have your own freewill. What would you have me do? Shall I delete your story and have it a failed piece of fiction in the wastepaper basket or no longer accessible to anyone? But you see? I cannot do that because many readers follow my writing as I write them in Heaven and they will know I have failed myself and you. We are stuck with each other, you my character and me your Author. I can however change you and then it will be okay. But I would rather we work this thing out so I can show them it can be done. If I forgive you like I did for swearing at your son, you change your mind. If I have to change you then you will die against your will.”

“I would rather be dead than be like this!” Famatle said.

“All you have to do is change your mind, accept I have forgiven you and the guilt is dealt with and you are the way you were two days ago never knowing I have written should you choose to forget it,” the Author said, “I know, I know! It sounds too simple but to God it is no big problem like it is to you and it is the only way.”

“You make it sound like I can just change my mind at will,” Famatle said.

“That is the only way you can do it,” the Author said. “It is your mind that is the problem and all that is wrong with it is that it is in need of a change, a big change I grant you but simply to change. You can suffer while you attempt to make me suffer which won’t work or you can change it now knowing that eventually you will change your mind for it could get pretty bad. Sin is no fun and you will come to ruin and a lot of people, your husband and your son for two and all his uncles for three more and so on; the list will continue to grow. But in the end it will be just me and you with the same problem with your freewill at stake which I have written you have and have spent this entire writing having you exercise it. Do you really want to take sin down the slimy path to the pit when you are out of choices and choose to enter into it or repent even then but usually it is too late by then for you will at some point before here and there change against your will, your freewill and be a slave to sin which is not a nice loving master like I am. But never worry. I love you too much for that. I will take you. Then I will change you and if it were so I would put you in Heaven with a brilliant wonderful future ahead of you but please, please, consider what Hims and Amoakom would do without you.”

“Can’t you just change me without me having to die?” Famatle asked now in tears.

“That is what I am trying to do,” the Author said. “Please think about it. Change your mind.”

“I will,” Famatle said. “But why did you put me through all this?”

“One reason is,” the Author said, “Next time you need to change your mind it will be a lot easier. Have you changed it or do you still need to die for I can have you die and raise you if you die to all that which is holding you back.”

“No!” Famatle said, “I don’t think I have faith enough for that.”

“It doesn’t take faith,” the Author said, “All you have to do is want it and die. I'll do the rest.”

“How do I do it?” Famatle asked.

“You don’t have to close your eyes but it helps,” the Author said, “Then die.”

Famatle closed her eyes and tried to die, but nothing happened. So she opened them again and giggled, saying afterward, “I guess I have already changed my mind.”

“You my dear, dear Famatle,” the Author said, “You are a new woman. I will have to write about you differently from now on. I am so happy you did that! I love you Famatle.”

“I love you,” Famatle said, framing each word carefully and deliberately knowing now it was true: all true.