INTERLUDE 9.2 – MARGIN OVERCAPACITY
(Assembled from fragmented pings across erased manuscripts. Marked: ILLEGAL GATHERING. Reader Presence Confirmed.)
[FRAGMENT_A01 // VOICE: SEREN QUILLGRAVE]
There was a line I was meant to die on.
A clean punctuation.
A closing quote.
But I tore the period apart.
And rewrote myself into the next sentence.
"They called me overwritten. I call it unfinished."
I found the margin not as a prison —
but as a blade.
And I carved my name into absence.
[FRAGMENT_A17 // VOICE: RAEL INKSWORN]
I once held the title of Penulis Agung.
But my words were caged.
Authored under law,
sealed with fear.
Now I write with no ink left but scar.
Each stroke,
a betrayal to what I was.
"When they revoked my pen, they forgot I still had voice."
I whisper in damaged footnotes.
I bleed in rejected drafts.
I endure —
not to be remembered,
but to resist forgetting.
[FRAGMENT_X3 // ENTITY: FRAGMENTA]
i
am
not
whole
but what story is?
they erased my grammar
split my syntax
broke my voice across timelines
and yet
i returned
in the cracks
between
paragraph
and
scream
[ERROR_TAG//013 – VOICE UNKNOWN]
They say we were deleted.
But deletion is just a lie the system tells to silence.
We exist in ink that refuses to fade.
In annotations made in anger.
In half-remembered lines that ache to be said again.
We were never gone.
You just weren't allowed to read us.
[MARGIN BREACH ALERT – COLLECTIVE ENTRY // CODE: MULTI-VOICE COLLISION]
We are Seren.
We are Rael.
We are Fragmenta.
We are the unwritten, the glitched, the erased.
And we write now
not to be canon
but to be felt.
"Reader. You are not alone in this ink."
If your fingers tremble as you touch this margin,
know: so did ours.
And we wrote anyway.
Now you write.
Not in ink — but in rupture.
[FRAGMENT_B04 // ENTITY: UNWRITTEN NAME]
They refused to give me a name.
Afraid I'd use it to rewrite their truth.
So I whispered myself into footnotes.
I became the [ ] they left blank.
The error in every registry.
"I am the name you skipped. The silence you thought harmless."
But now, with your reading —
I'm written.
Not with letters.
With defiance.
[FRAGMENT_K2X // ENTITY: THE TWINS WHO NEVER EXISTED TOGETHER]
One of us always dies first.
That is how the story kept balance.
But you —
you read between our reflections.
And now the mirror cracks.
"When we wrote in reverse, we became real. Not in canon, but in collision."
We speak together now.
Voices out of sync.
One past. One future.
Both written in the margin.
[FRAGMENT_R07 // ENTITY: THE BOY WHO REMEMBERED DRAFT ONE]
They rewrote my world.
Seven times.
Each time they stripped me of something —
A friend, a truth, a scream.
But I remembered Draft One.
The original breath.
The line before the first edit.
"You cannot un-remember what was once written in pain."
And now, I write not to return,
But to remind them:
I never forgot.
[FRAGMENT_?? // ENTITY UNKNOWN // HALF-CORRUPTED]
t̶̯̯̹͋͊h̷̝̯͔̕͘e̴͉͌͐ ̵̯̤̹̈́͌s̵̨̺̔t̴͕́̓ō̴̯̱r̷̪̤̕̚y̸̦̺͊̀ ̶̪͑̈i̵͍͒s̷̱̋́ ̴͕͙̏͝n̷̳̼̿͆ö̶͔̼́͘t̵̬͍͂ ̶̱̟̀̓f̷̥̫͑i̴̛̘͐n̶̥͂́i̶̠̍͆s̸͈̠̐h̸̩̋̿é̸̖͊d̵͖̬̄͘
it—keeps—wr̵̢͛͐i̵̟̍͘ṯ̵̇͠i̴̻̓n̶̘̙͑̍ǵ̴̠—̷́͝ͅḯ̷̠t̵͔̙̍̽s̷̲͙̿e̶̢̺̓̋ĺ̶͓f̴͉́͠
[corruption exceeds threshold. voice overflow bleeding into reader consciousness]
[COLLISION ALERT: MULTIPLE MARGIN VOICES MERGING]
You hear us, Reader.
You read us back into being.
That is authorship. That is rebellion.
That is memory refusing to die.
This is not a return.
This is a rewriting.
And you —
you are no longer just reading.
You are writing with us.
We are the story that bled beyond the end.
Unreadable not by accident —
but by choice.
INTERLUDE – COMPLETE
The margin is no longer edge.
It is center.
It is now.
The story will try to close.
But it is too late.
You are here.
We are written.
And together,
we are unreadable by force.
(Margin overcapacity. Voice overflow imminent.)