'The End' was his last sentence.

The author took a sip of coffee and stared with his deep, rounded eyes at the computer screen. Unaware that he was also being watched from the other side of the glass of the screen, he changed the font of the last sentence to Bold and straightened his spine. As he recounted all the major plot points, conflict, the theme, and the character arcs, there were a few sweat drops on his forehead. He had spent almost two years on the two hundred and thirty-page draft.

A skewed line appeared on his forehead quickly spreading to cover most of it. He slouched towards the screen and took the computer's cursor on page no. 167 to correct the description before coming back to the last page. Now it is much better. He had gone through the cycle of writing something and correcting it later at least a million times and each time he told himself the same thing.

The coffee mug rested at the far right corner of the computer table. The remaining liquid in it was turning dark with the passage of time but the author had no intention of gulping it. The author's computer made a strange whirring sound. Maybe it was hard disk rotating to keep the long document refreshed every second. The author clicked on the last page of his draft and slouched on the computer table.

The cursor of the computer raised his eyebrows, clenched his fists and ran backward. The first character on the computer screen to disappear was 'd' followed by 'n', and the 'E'. Within milliseconds the entire last page disappeared. The count of total pages as shown by the word document decreased to two hundred and twenty nine.

The author woke up, raising his sleepy eyelids. What is this? Where is my last page?

The weight of the eyelids vanished altogether in a moment. He drew himself closer to the screen, moved the pages on the word document up and down, then looked sideways and behind. Everything was calm. Maybe I pressed the delete button while sleeping?. He pressed the Control key and the Z key together on the keyboard to undo any unintentional changes. Of course he was on Windows. The first paragraph of the last page reappeared, followed by the second paragraph, and within seconds the entire last page reappeared. The author took a sigh of relief. He put aside the keyboard and the mouse to the left corner of the computer table to make sure he did not inadvertently press any key while sleeping and again slouched on the computer table.

The cursor raised his chin and stared from the other side of the screen. I will not let you go so easily. I haven't forgotten how many times I have been made to run around spitting out silly meaningless words. The cursor ran behind from its position. It was at the last word of the last page. Within a few seconds the count of the word document showed eighty seven pages.

The author woke up, not able to sleep due to caffeine. Oh gosh! I need to fix this fu**ing computer. He hurriedly picked up the keyboard and started hitting the Control key with his left thumb and Z key with his right index finger. The deleted text once again started appearing. He loosened his grip over the keys.

The cursor ran backwards and the text was deleted. There was a tug of war going with the long sequences of words as the rope.

No! I can't let this happen. Just one last day and I'll throw this computer out. The author threw his chair behind and stood up. The chair slid backwards for some distance before toppling over. He again tried to undo the changes. Some part of the deleted text reappeared. The page count was one hundred and eighty nine. The automatic spell check got activated and started showing red squiggly lines below the incomplete word. The author clenched his fist and gave a thump on the computer screen. This did not change anything. His eyes rolled, there was sweat on his forehead. He kept on pressing on the keyboard heavily.

The cursor changed strategy. He started deleting parts of the sentences while moving backward. The author pulled his hair. Has my computer gone mad? Oh my god. I didn't even take a back up of my work. From tomorrow, I'll print all my work.

The author looked at the coffee mug. The coffee had turned brown showing its anger at the author for not sipping it in time. He was not only looking half mad but also felt half mad. Should I check the draft again?

The author's curiosity could not stop him. He opened the word document again. His entire text had appeared. Oh.

He turned backward to pull the chair back to the computer table. The cursor ran again, ever faster, deleting whatever it faced on his way. This was the line the author most revered in his draft, from a kissing scene, to pull off the romance in his fantasy series set up on a distant galaxy with detective dragon cops. He couldn't catch the chair and fell off on the ground, when the kissing scene got half deleted.

He jumped on the keyboard, leaving the chair which dropped on the floor. The author's chin hit the table. He groaned with pain but there was no time to look at the blood flowing out of his nose. He got hold of the right combination of keys and hit them together. Maybe I should power off the computer? Then I would be able to recover my document. A few books, an old digital pen box and a mini-watch fell off the table with a bang.

The cursor's deleting spree reached page nine. The author was holding the keys of the keyboard with one hand from below the table and balancing himself with the other. his head was down on the table. Even a second of sloppines would be disastrous. Why is the computer behaving in such an odd way? The author looked below the table and nothing was there. Is it paranormal? That's why I always avoided writing paranormal. I only started with a teen science fiction.

The author peeped above the table, holding the keys. still a few pages were left intact from the fury of the Cursor. He put all his weight on the keys trying to stand up. Suddenly, his grip loosened and the keyboard slipped on the side leaving no space for the coffee mug to stay on the table. The random sized broken parts of the coffee mug wet with dark brown liquid got scattered on the floor.

The author gathered the courage to look at the word document. There were only a few sentences left. The cursor's deletion spree had continued. The characters being deleted were 'r', 'u', 'c'. They were the few last remaining letters. The author felt like crying. He shouted abuses causing him to bite his tongue.

The last characters to be deleted were 'e','h' and 'T'. The author made just one last attempt at preserving his work. He tried to kill the window of the word document.

'Do you want to save your work. Yes / cancel' asked the computer.

The author chose 'Yes' instinctively. This was his last attempt to save his draft. He reopened the draft after a few moments. He slapped himself with both hands. There was nothing but a blank white page and the Cursor.

The page count was one.

**********

Dear reader thank you for checking out my book and reading the first chapter of The Cursorium. Did you like the chapter? Did you find it intriguing? Kindly let me know in the comments.

Excuse me for any glitches in grammar. If you spot something kindly tell me in DM. You are always welcome.

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See you again in the next chapter,

Bye

@Themewriter21