Chapter Text
It is June 6 2003 when this story begins and it begins in the way you’d expect.
The little stickfigure manages to duck right in time to dodge the lasso tool and jumps off the animation program. The teenager frowns in frustration, attempting to grab it and drag it back.
He isn’t quite sure how all of this had started, how he had begun putting the little stickfigure in different situations and testing how he could end it. He just wanted to see if he could make it come to life and then messed with it out of curiosity. Then it had rebelled so he had had to delete it.
But it was exciting. Somehow, someway, he had made that stickfigure come to life on his own. He had used no program, he had just willed life into it.
And he could make it come to life over and over again and feel what he had felt the first time as much as he wanted.
It wasn’t even that frustrating that it kept trying to run away and didn’t listen to him. Either way, there was nowhere it could really run to, he would always find it. It would go back into the animation program and stay there.
Between you, me and Archive of Our Own, this guy is a little messed up. What a sickening way to think of something you’ve made. He should get his glasses checked up too because that little stickfigure is not simply a cool little program. It’s alive and it’s scared and he’s either stupid or delusional to not realize it.
He minimizes the program to go after it better. It’s fast but there wasn’t much it could do but run and jump.
He chases it with the cursor, each time it switches directions the cursor appears in its way. There is nowhere to run to for the little stickfigure.
Except forward, the stickfigure realizes desperately. It doesn’t want to be caught so it tries the only thing it could think of doing and launches itself against the barrier separating it from the monster that tortured it.
The teenager snorts at its desperate attempt because he has no idea what was about to happen. Neither did the stickfigure but you might know where this is going and I’m very excited for it to happen.
The teenager sees a flash and something crashes into him, making him hit his back against the floor. He blinks away the effect of the mysterious flash, feeling something on top of him.
He opens his eyes and sees his own face staring back with a terrified and confused expression. Of course it isn’t exactly his face, it isn’t wearing glasses for instance, and there are other miniscule differences, but it is his face nonetheless.
“What?” He whispers, completely flabbergasted.
The little stickfigure is equally confused but it is somewhat dulled by the intense fear it is feeling. It looks back at the computer and then at the teenager under it.
Both beings are very smart so they come to the same conclusion at the same time.
“How?” The teenager asks in disbelief.
Meanwhile, the former stickfigure’s face turns into a scowl. “You.” It mutters, voice laced with venom.
Another realization they both share at that moment, is that nothing is between them this time. And, dare I say, that they are in equal conditions.
The former stickfigure raises its fist and aims at the teenager’s face. They might be equally smart but the teenager hasn’t engaged in a physical fight in his life, leaving him in clear disadvantage.
However he manages to push the former stickfigure off him before the fist connects, mere luck no doubt.
“You’re going to pay.” The former stickfigure growls.
I will not foment beating up stickfigures or anything alive but if you’re going to do it make sure you know what to do in case the barrier that keeps you apart gets compromised. This is an important piece of advice believe it or not and I bet the teenager would’ve loved to know it before he started doing what he did.
But he hadn’t known because I’m a simple non-existent narrator and can’t tell him. And no one has ever been in the exact circumstance he is in now. Which was, rolling around the floor of his room to avoid getting murdered by his creation. I bet that if he had read Frankestein he would be thinking of how similar this is. Although, if he had read Frankestein maybe he wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.
Much like Frankestein’s creature (not a monster, at least not in the beginning), the stickfigure is vastly superior than its creator, in terms of strength. But, he also hasn’t had fingers before or many of the parts of a body us humans are familiar with. So it is having a little trouble winning.
If someone came in right now, they wouldn't see an epic battle between a creation and its creator. They would see two fourteen or so year olds rolling around and pulling each other’s hair.
Which was exactly what the teenager's mother comes in to see when she comes to check what all the noise was.
What a strange thing to find in your son’s room on a Sunday afternoon. Imagine being his mother and having to separate your son from a very identical copy of your kid? And then seeing the other kid flinch and tremble when you approach. And hearing your boy explain to you (in unnecessary detail and with little remorse) what exactly he had done.
And imagine being the teenager and explaining to your mom that some stickfigure you drew and somehow gave life to (like the paper crane I told you about, mom) has somehow exited the computer and is now seeking to kill you. And then your mom takes ITS side instead of yours, comforts it (why???) and declares that it’s going to stay in the house. That would be crazy. And poetic too. The thing you created has now become your brother, isn’t that interesting? And great too because all of this started because you found it interesting.
And imagine (one last time and I’ll let you rest your mind) being a stickfigure for two or three days. Living a miserable and short existence. Then you somehow escape your prison and enter your torturer’s domain. So, logically, you immediately try to murder him before he can murder you. You’re not understanding what’s going on or why you’re different than before but none of that matters because you have a chance to be free. And then a taller yet similar being to your captor appears and defends you and offers you the first comfort in your short life. And then proclaims you as her own. That’d be very hard to comprehend, having a limited understanding of the world.
Since all of those scenarios that I asked you to imagine did actually happen, I’ll tell you what it resulted in. A very awkward dinner and a second bed in the teenager’s room.
Oh and lots of feelings of murder. From both the teenager and the stickfigure.
But that’s what happens when you create something and then torture it and make it miserable for no discernible reason (not that even the greatest reason would justify such heinous actions as torture mind you). You gain a twin brother.
It’s unlikely the teenager will let this stand but he can’t do anything in front of his mother, he’s already grounded for a week. He will have to wait but he’s patient. The stickfigure will go back into the computer.
But for now, I’ll let you know that the stickfigure almost cried when it ate the mom’s dinner. And that he broke down when she hugged it. He’s living his best life even if had a feeling his torturer will make sure it’s short lived. But he will enjoy the food and the warmth for as long as he can.
It’s a little scared of sleeping in the same room as his torturer but trusts the mom when she said she wouldn’t let him hurt it again. So when it sees the teenager glare at it from the other bed, it turns around and buries itself under the covers, letting out a content sigh.