Besides that, I realized after I wrote this that this has a lot of connection to a story idea I have that I haven't written yet. I mean, it's the third in a trilogy (I'm currrently writing the first one) so trying to explain it fully might take a while (if you want to know, though, I'd be happy to attempt to explain it to you) plus, I don't fully understand it myself yet. I think you might be able to see where it's going after you read this. It centers around a young boy named Mackenzie and I think he's the one narrating this story. I don't know. It just kind of fell out and I thought it might be neat to post as a short little thing. See what people thought.
So, here goes. Enjoy!
A Few Words: Okay, I have the worst feeling that after you read this, you're going to be thinking to yourself, "What the hell did I just read?!?" because, frankly, this was written randomly and the connection between the ideas might be a little strange. It started out as one thing and ended as quite another. I don't know why.
This is an original story. People always say that there’s nothing new under the sun. All stories have been told at one time or another. The point of view and the setting are what changes, but not the story itself. To that I say bullshit. Because this is my story alone. Even though I have been on this planet too long to really be considered new (despite the fact that most people like to think I was born yesterday), my story has never been told before. And so I tell it to you now. And it will be the first time you’ve heard it. The point of view hasn’t changed because it’s always been mine. And the setting hasn’t changed because, frankly, I never go anywhere.
Well, that all sounds well and goo, doesn’t it? We all like to think we’re originals when it’s quite true that we’re simply genetic copies of those who came before us. We openly steal from each other, so that no one can really be considered one of a kind. NOt for long. NOr can they be considered the last of their kind because someone will trip over themself one day and end up face-down in a pile of obscurity. It’ll all come back around someday.
But if all this is true, then why am I sitting alone in the middle of a world gone made, waiting for it all to end? They keep saying it. Tonight’s going to be the night. Tomorrow we’ll all be blasted into oblivion Extinct. Which is just as well anyway. The war we’ve been fighting has been far too bloddy. Far too senseless. If this is the only way to end it, that’s okay with me. tonighti s the last night they say.
They’ve been saying that for a long time now, but I’m inclined to beleive them today. There’s something in the air that has caused everyone to hide inside their houses. Not shedding tears over good-byes because we’ve all been hearing the threat that somehow became a merciful promise for a long while now. Today is the day. THe last day.
The idea of it did’nt really bother me until now. I mean, what use is a world that, as a single person, would be the equivalent of a serial killer? This end has been coming for a long time now. We all knew it. We’ve all been waiting. Some have been praying. The war has killed off so many of our own, including my own mother, that it’s a blessing to be able to join them again in a place where there is no bloodshed and no darkness. I personally can’t wait to once again look on the sweet, beautiful face of the woman who sang me to sleep as a child, knowing very well what a cruel and dangerous world it was she had brought me into.
Tonight is the first time it occurred to me to be fearful. What, after all, did I do that I, too, am included in God’s little extermination of mankind? I didn’t have time enough to do anything notable. I never even got to see what a peaceful world was like except through newsreels and documentaries long banned by people who didn’t want to accentuate our despair with glimpses of what we could be if we could forgive each other. The image shocked so many people...
Am I truly then the last of my kind? There will be no genetic copies of me in the future because...well, because there isn’t a future. Even if tonight isn’t the last night, there simply isn’t anything there beyond this war. It’ll go on forever if it isn’t ended tonight.
Maybe I’ll get lucky, though and someone will fall face down in the obscure past like we did the dinosaurs. Whoever is here after us (since at no point would I believe that God would have a world like Earth empty of life, if not of heart) might find this someday and then truly will I be an original for there is nothing old under their sun until they have found their own stories to tell. And maybe they will find mine and be fascinated, if they can understand it. Maybe thesepeople will never run out of stories like we did.
Because in the end, I think that’s what did us in. No more new stories to tell and the loss of all but the old favorites like a Bible not many bother to read anymore, though many are clutching it to their breast tonight.
Perhaps it is only vanity that makes me believe allt his. But in a world that has lost every single belief it ever held dear, I personally need something to cling to. Something to believe in.
Even if only for one last night.
Patiently awaiting the arrival of your response. :)
Back to Index