The Typewriter

The two writers just couldn’t escape the clutches of the forest. It was like every word they had written had come true. Every imagined disaster they wrote had become a part of their own life.
“Hurry, Clara!” exclaimed Jack, “it’s coming closer!”
The twins dashed through the forest, hoping to find somewhere safe, but they were running out of time.
“We should have put that old machine away while we had a chance,” cried Clara through her tears.
Jack felt the typewriter in his backpack, and he knew something Clara didn’t know. “Well, I still have the typewriter here,” said Jack, “We’ll write that we escaped the forest, then it’ll come true.”
“You brought it with you? Make it quick! That dragon is almost on us!” she cried.
“Why did you write about an evil dragon of light anyway?” he groaned.
“Just type!” she shrieked.
Jack dug through his backpack, took out the old typewriter, sat it down on a rock and started typing the words. Words about escaping the forest. Words about escaping the Dragon of Light.
Then they were abruptly inside their snuggly old home once again.
“I’ve been looking for you two everywhere!” exclaimed their sister Charlotte, angrily.
“Oh, leave them alone,” Charlie snapped, “It’s not your business.”
“Not my business?” she began.
Their argument went on and on, like usual.
Everyone thought that Jack and Clara were normal children, but they had a secret, they had an enchanted typewriter and everything they typed came true.
Charlie was their older brother and he had been the only other person to know about the typewriter.
“Come on,” Clara said, “let’s go.” Clara and Jack walked up to their room in the attic. From their room, they could still hear Charlie and Charlotte arguing downstairs, a sound their pet cat always hated. Misty crouched under Clara’s warm bed until the shouting finally stopped. She purred to show her relief.
“So what shall we do with the typewriter?” Jack asked.
“Find a way to get rid of it of course, what do you think?” Clara replied.
“I know, but how?” Jack asked again.
“I don’t know. How am I supposed to know?” Clara exclaimed.
“Didn’t you once say you knew ‘everything’?” Jack asked followed by a silence. A long, awkward silence as Clara’s cheeks flushed red.
“Whatever,” she responded as the door creaked open, and Charlotte peered through the door.
“Why are you always in here?” she asked.
“You don’t need to know,” Clara responded.
“Well, can’t you just tell me?” she demanded a little louder.
“I don’t think so,” replied Jack calmly.
Charlotte groaned and stomped back downstairs.
“Let’s just write that the typewriter disappeared,” Jack said.
“How come I didn’t think of that? That’s genius!” Clara added. She wound a fresh piece of paper into the machine and typed. ‘Then the typewriter disappeared without a trace.’
The floor rumbled. The typewriter shook and shuddered than disappeared in a flash of light. The twins were safe.

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