Chapter Text
A parable, by definition, is a simple story meant to illustrate a moral lesson. To Stanley, it was anything but. Stanley remembered the countless amount of years- more likely decades- that he was stuck in a parable that was meant for him. He was meant to be the protagonist of his story, a story he did not even want to be a part of.
But when did anything ever go his way?
He wasn’t meant to get stuck in an ever-repeating story that looped again, and again, and again. He wasn’t meant to have his every action be narrated by an obnoxious- albeit, beautifully low and accented- disembodied voice. He wasn’t meant to become friends with the aforementioned voice. He wasn’t meant to develop a friendship with this god-like entity to the point they decided to build a body for themselves to join Stanley’s side.
He wasn’t meant to lose the Narrator when they finally escaped the parable together.
He remembered that day more than anything else. It started as a normal day in the parable- well, what was considered normal to him and the Narrator at this point.
They were resting in the employee’s lounge, the Narrator writing scripts at a desk he had set up for himself in the lounge while Stanley rested on the comfortable couch with his arms wrapped around his bucket.
He remembered how the Narrator chastised him for developing such a connection with an inanimate object and how he should’ve never given Stanley the damned thing.
Stanley just simply grinned and accused the Narrator of being jealous. The older man replied with a huff as he returned to writing.
After a bit, the two ran around the parable for a while, the Narrator returning to his state as a disembodied voice so he could properly narrate Stanley while the man chose to disagree with the Narrator half of the time through his new script.
“Stanley, I need you to stop being incompetent for just a few minutes and help me go through this script with me before you find another way to break the game again. Please?”
Stanley only listened to him for a solid of two minutes until he went off course again. However, this led the office worker to find an elevator that left both him and the Narrator perplexed.
“I don’t remember putting that elevator there… I don’t even see any file or texture or… anything! This elevator seems to be existing in the parable of its own accord, Stanley.”
Stanley wasn’t listening as the Narrator mused, however. He was more distracted at studying the elevator with a blank stare.
Just where did he recognize this elevator from?
It was… well, it was an elevator. Though, it seemed more like an elevator that you would find in an office like the one the parable attempted to imitate. The inside walls were made out of polished spruce panels with the ceiling having four light fixtures settled in to provide light.
Stanley was sure that he had been in this exact elevator before. But not in the parable. No, he would remember if he did.
Just when was he in this elevator?
“Stanley, are you alright, dear boy? You seem to have dazed off for a moment.”
Stanley hesitated, looking at the ceiling as if the Narrator was there- a habit he acquired whenever the Narrator was not in his physical form. He hesitated, exchanging glances upwards at the ceiling, and the little screen above the elevator door. Floor: Parable.
Those words scrawling across caused a feeling Stanley couldn’t quite understand to settle in his gut.
He raised his shaky hands, hesitating once more before he signed, ‘I think this is the way out.’
“The way out? What do you mean, Stanley?”
‘I mean out of the parable.’ Stanley signed, taking a deep breath, ‘I… recognize this elevator.’
The Narrator’s breath hitched. What could Stanley possibly mean? A way out? Out of the parable?
He paused for a moment to think over the current situation before mumbling, “One moment, please.”
It didn’t take much longer for him to appear in his physical form mid-air, his light brunette, slightly graying, hair swept neatly, his square-framed glasses adjusted just over those golden eyes, and that neat, brown suit coat and boldly yellow tie over his black turtleneck.
His feet gracefully landed on the ground as he appeared at Stanley’s side, adjusting his glasses over the crook of his nose as he studied the elevator.
He shook his head as he looked back at Stanley, “Are you truly sure this is this way out? That’s quite the statement after everything we’ve been through.”
Stanley agreed. While there were many times he believed he had found an exit in the parable, each time he was proven to be a hopeful fool. The Narrator used to berate him for believing in any exit sign so easily, but has let up quite a lot now that he and Stanley realized they were in the same boat.
They were stuck here together.
‘It’s worth a try… right?’ Stanley asked, casting a nervous glance towards the taller man.
He took in a shaky breath before nodding. Even if it ended up being just another cruel trick, this was the closest they ever have come to an exit. Stanley was right.
He extended his hand, interlacing his fingers with Stanley as he guided him into the elevator.
Stanley didn’t even hesitate to follow the Narrator, standing right beside him as they stood in the center of the elevator. There were no buttons, however the doors closed and the elevator whirred to life as it went… up? Maybe down. Stanley couldn’t tell.
What Stanley could tell was that it was getting faster and bumpier as time went on. He looked at the Narrator once more, who returned the look with a small, yet sweet, smile.
It wasn’t until the elevator reached a worrisomely fast speed to the point the gears began to squeal that things truly escalated. The lightbulbs above the two began to brighten and flicker as the elevator jostled them from side to side.
It was hard to keep standing with how violently the elevator was rocking, yet the two kept their hold on each others’ hands firm. The lights only seemed to brighten more and more until it became blinding.
Stanley remembered the last time he saw his Narrator’s face. He remembered the last time he heard his Narrator’s voice whisper, “It’s going to be ok, Stanley.” And most of all, he remembered the last time he felt his Narrator’s touch from holding his hand before everything crashed down and suddenly that hand was ripped away from him.
Stanley would later find himself waking up in a calm field in the middle of nowhere. He would look at the sky as his eyes opened, squinting from the sun’s light becoming overbearing for his poor eyes. He would take in the scent of the world around him as flowers bloomed. He would cry tears of joy as he realized that he had done it. He had escaped the parable. And then, he would sit up and look around for his companion, only to find himself sitting alone in a field.
And from then on, the tears he cried were not of joy.