Short Stories
A Perfect Circle
A point, as the pen touches the page. A perfect circle in itself, yet only the beginning. And at the same time used as an ending, to define the space where one thought or point finishes, and another is destined to begin. And as we commence the next sentence - the words that flow from our original point or the origin of our first contact with the blank page, a picture is forming.
We begin by way of carving a path, sending the reader or listener veering off in the direction we would like them to follow, or rather hope they will follow, if they don't get distracted in the meantime and run off in their own entirely different train of thought which is not at all along the lines we intended to steer them. Full stop.
That's better, a pause, allowing them to come back to where it was we were going as our words all flow together creating a continuous chain that will eventually come to its conclusion, or its own ending.
When the whole picture reveals itself there is always something of a surprise as the loose ends are tidied up, and all avenues we might have gone down that were thrown in as red herrings, akin to the very clever ones we find in Agatha Christie novels, in fact, lead us nowhere. We must now make sense of the undeniable facts which remain and piece together the clues, not jumping to conclusions but allowing the only true one to gradually present itself that we may marvel at the simplicity of it, and how it was there right under our nose all the time, if only we had been able to recognise it.
A story takes us on such a journey, toying with us, engaging all of our emotions and challenging our beliefs. It has the ability to lure us into uncharted territories, and to widen the horizons that we might previously have seen as a little smaller than the spectacular vistas that can be conjured up by words. Still leading us somewhere, each letter containing its own energy, each wriggling worm of a word creating a sense of anticipation.
Our expectation starts to fill the air as we skip merrily through the pages towards the inevitable, eagerly, till the end begins to draw nearer and we have to know what transpires. The now, or present moment must be reconciled before we allow ourselves to take a peek at the future. Could we ever forgive ourselves if we read the last page before our time is due? Each perfectly rounded vowel brings back memories of the way things are supposed to be done, the rules of engagement that should be utilised in the correct manner.
Plot; an important ingredient to throw into the mix along with our developing characters and sub-plots, and tantalising twists and turns along the way that must somehow smooth themselves out into some kind of order so we can regain our bearings. Another full stop.
Here we are at the end, yet we are not sure what the point is?
It is only ever a matter of beginning.