One day, many years ago, I was walking through the desert, following a dirt track into nothing.

At a crossroads, under a blood red sky, a man came up to me from nowhere and said: “I can make you the greatest writer in the world, the biggest star in the literary firmament, read for the rest of eternity. I can give you immortality, through your words. All that, in exchange for one thing.”

I looked into his eyes, and I knew who he was and what he wanted.

So I killed the man at the crossroads, and I ate his heart as the black night reached across the emptiness and swallowed up the desert.

Now, I am him, and I don’t need to give anything away.
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