Chapter Text
The last thing Stanley remembered was the beginning of the escape pod ride. He groaned, blinking in the harsh sunlight.
Wait.
Sunlight.
Stanley sat up, a wide grin quickly forming on his face.
“We did it,” He signed. “We made it out. We’re alive.”
And then his eyes adjusted, and he found himself surrounded by shards of broken escape pod, completely and utterly alone.
Stanley still checked every face. Walking down the street, he spared a quick glance at the people who walked by him, and then turned his gaze back down to the sidewalk.
He’d frantically searched for four entire years. But when it was clear he wasn’t going to be able to sustain himself by devoting all of his time to searching, he was forced to slow down so he could actually stay alive.
…He’d given up about thirty-seven years ago, after a particularly nasty breakdown about the subject forced him to be completely out of commission for a week straight.
Looking at people’s faces was just the last sliver of hope talking. He still felt a deep pang in his chest when he thought about the Narrator, but… it wasn’t severe anymore. It’d been too long without him, and— Stanley always hated the thought— he’d grown used to having him gone.
He didn’t have the energy to do any more deep searching, and besides— he’d long lost any contacts he had that could tell him anything about missing persons updates.
Actually, he’d had many friends and acquaintances pass away over the years, yet here he was, not aged a day since the moment he entered the Parable.
He didn’t want to dwell on that right now. So he focused his attention back to his walk. He was currently on his way home to his apartment, and he couldn’t wait to be able to just flop onto his bed and fall asleep.
Stanley climbed the flights of stairs up to his apartment. He couldn’t stand to take the elevator anymore. It reminded him too much of the escape pod, even after all these years.
When he got to his door (not 427, his mind supplied unhelpfully) he fished his keys out of his pocket, sticking them in the door and unlocking it.
The door creaked open very loudly, and Stanley winced at the sound. He’d meant to contact the apartment owner to see if they could get it fixed, but hadn’t had the opportunity to yet. Maybe it would be better to just oil the hinges himself.
It was a simple apartment, one bedroom and a bathroom, a sizable living room, and a kitchen. Stanley had the skills to cook, but he didn’t often have the energy to cook a big meal for himself after work.
He trudged into his room and flopped face-first on the bed.
Before he could decide whether to fall asleep right there or move to actually get ready, his phone buzzed.
Right. Time moved slower in the Parable than it did out here, Stanley had gathered that much, but years had passed in the actual world while he’d been in the Parable. They had technology such as mobile phones and a gigantic internet now.
It had taken Stanley a while to learn how to use them, and he still didn’t prefer using them, but he kept his phone on him regularly.
He pulled it out of his pocket, rolling onto his side and checking his text messages.
Jimothy: Hey stan you awake?
Ah. It was Timothy, then. Stanley had become friends with him when he’d misheard his introduction as ‘Jim’.
…He might’ve freaked out a bit, which led to the ever running joke of calling his coworker ‘Jimothy’ instead of his actual name. Hence the contact name.
Stanley typed out his reply.
You: Yeah, what’s up?
No reply for a few minutes, and then a little typing bubble popped up.
Jimothy: Found a cool book
[Jimothy sent an image]
Stanley opened the image. It was slightly blurry, as all of Tim’s pictures tended to be, but it appeared to be of a thick hardcover book.
He could see the shapes of two rectangles standing on the front, and he could just make out the word ‘Parable’ splashed across the cover, as well as other words he couldn’t read. It sent a spike of something through his chest— dread, maybe?— As he stared at it.
It didn’t appear to have his name anywhere on it, so he really just chalked it up as being coincidence.
But he still couldn’t help but feel unsettled as he closed the image.
You: Nice. Didn’t think you’d be one for reading novels like that. How many pages is it?
Jimothy: Like 300
You: Wow. Why is it called a parable when it’s that long? I don’t think I’d read a parable that was 300 pages.
You: You know they’re supposed to be short, right?
Jimothy: In my defense!!!! its a really good book!!!!!!
You: Really?
Jimothy: Yeah its a series too
Jimothy: Starting the seconf book right now
You: How many pages is that one?
Jimothy: Uhhhh like 200 idk
Jimothy: Def smaller than the first one
Jimothy: Heard the third one is really big tho
You: Wow.
Jimothy: Yeah this guy writes a lot
Jimothy: People joke that he isnt human because he cranks these things out fast but theyre so good lol
Jimothy: Hey I could lend you my copy of the first book at work tomorrow if you want
You: That would be great. Thanks.
Jimothy: No prob
You: Don’t stay up too late reading those books, you’ll be tired tomorrow.
Jimothy: Stan wdym its 8pm!!! If anything you should be asleep old man
Stanley let out a small huff of laughter.
You: Rude. Point taken though, I am really tired.
You: If you go to sleep then I will too. I don’t wanna miss out on reading that book tomorrow.
Jimothy: Fineeee
Jimothy: Gnight stan!
You: Goodnight, Tim.
Stanley turned his phone off, setting it on the nightstand by his bed.
…The Parable series, huh? The title brought back flashes of painful memory, sure, but it had to be coincidence. Parables were a common type of story. Maybe it was a collection of parables. Yeah, that had to be it.
Stanley sighed, staring straight up at the ceiling. He’d just see tomorrow, he supposed.
And soon, he slipped off into sleep.