In the first world, before the Immortals shattered it, there was a well formed from the corpse of a god, and those who bathed in its waters became without what was within. Their hidden truth became their physical form. Some who leapt beneath its depths believed they would be reborn beautiful and godly, only to emerge monstrous and ugly. And others, lame or little, ascended to perfection when they breached the surface.
Often I have wondered, if I were to fall within it, what form would I take.
At times I thought I would become a dragon, fearsome and flighty. Other times a mass of molten fire, a body built of flaming embers. Or I would sprout wings and feel my skin pulled taught against physical strength I’ve never possessed before. And sometimes, in my darkest of moods, I would fade from something human toward something beastly, wild and unruly, untamed and forged for pure destruction.
But there is no such well in this world to become outside what I see within.
It’s Flash Fiction Friday #2 and already I’ve run into a wall of writer’s block. Sure, I’ve written a few new pieces since last week, but none of them quite feel ready for posting, and after a couple rainy days, I just don’t have the inspiration on my own to move forward.
When night fell, I stood outside in a valley of bricks, red blocks crisscrossed in white zigzags that somehow tied us to the earth yet seemed celestial emblazoned in the moonlight. Tall buildings sprouted around us like mountains, sheltering our silence, but still the wind whispered to us, sending cold thoughts crawling across our skin.
Today marks a special anniversary: Some ten or so years ago I met one of my most influential and inspiring friends–and though we may live thousands of miles apart, my heart is closer to hers than to most people I know. It seems like we’ve been through it all together, the highs, the lows–the times we’ve loved each other, the times we’ve hated each other, the many times in between. Of all the people I know, she is the strongest, most persevering, most courageous–and her friendship means the world to me.
Mostly related by email, our time together is full of thoughtful conversations and intense reflections–analyses of the goings-on of life, in-depth discussions on topics as numerous as the stars. The birth of our friendship was the birth of a new soul, enjoined to the physical world not by blood or bone, but by the wires and Internet waves that have tied us together for so many impossibly wondrous years.
Today marks the birth of a new relationship–a reflexive relation I hope will provide as much for this blog as her friendship has provided me.
Have you ever started writing with a point in mind, and noticed by the time you finished writing you’d never really gotten there? Earlier this week I wrote a post about mourning monsters–reflecting on the inspiration that childhood pastimes like Pokemon and Digimon gave me (and continue to give me)–but that hadn’t been my intent.
Not my original intent anyways.
Instead I wanted to write something wild. A story of man against nature.
I lack the gravitas to make light of a serious situation. More so I lack the gusto to make a light situation serious. Yet of late, lightness has ruled my days: Against my own wishes, I have slept in later than desired all week, and once I’m awake, old obsessions mesmerize my mind and threaten to steal every ounce of sanity.
Perhaps it’s my summer sloth slowing me down, or perhaps there’s more at stake.
Women can multitask, park their cars better, and ask for direction–but the sorry male species can’t do a damn thing. It’s a beautiful world where you grow up with low expectations, isn’t it? A standard of male success is dying without going to jail. Poor women. They actually have to do something to be successful.
It’s been a long time since I’ve said this and an even longer time since I’ve sincerely believed it, but today I feel happy. Genuinely happy. And for the life of me, I can’t even say what’s changed.
It feels like, for so long, dark clouds have held their hands around me, ethereal and tornadic fingers twisting around me, tumultuous chaos attacking me from every angle. Today the wind awoke over the world and while I was crossing the Brickyard–an open courtyard at the heart of campus–I felt the wind whipping around me, awaken the wind inside me, and in a burst of ecstasy I spun around and watched as the world itself twisted beneath me….
Coffee and chocolate. For me it’s been a love/hate relationship, and yet it seems coffee and chocolate are staples of the Alternative Spring Break trip I’m going on in March. It’s a comical story–but it has grave consequences.