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An Idea About Falling

I am a freelance writer. I write novels, short stories, and nonfiction books. I also specialize in scientific writing.

I Often Think About Falling

The way I wake up in the midnight hours scanning the dark walls speaks volumes about an inner sadness I burrow beneath myself. This squalid, temporal, livid space can't be more unkempt. Know me, now. I am a figurine, a dethroned despot, searching for a burden that can't be unfound, yet carried so deeply that it's tarnished its root and left me tortured in this jagged state.


In this space, I am a collection of watered stones, mishaps I once knew, and have been thrown together in an aperture of fixtures, figurines, and often mistaken fine art. Who could know these places? The inner voice beckons.

I stand before George, listless. This enjoinment of art, a disastrous play of words. He stares back with a pale face, kindly smirking as if he knew the true depth of my misfortune.

"Take me in from the waves," he whispers as we stand by Juniper Hill. "Jump from here. It's a gleeful trip below." He scowls.

"I am not in the mood for such a trip," I relent. "Do me a favor, I need something of you."

"What is it?" He asks. "I am tired," he whispers. "What are the thoughts that we kept to ourselves in these places?"

"I know them less than you," I reply. "I want to say something."
"What do you want to say," he says, staring over a wide edge.


"I want to find comfort," he whispers. "That is why I come here to stare at the water from his height. I imagine leaping into its abode. What will it say when it will come me?"

"Is that what you feel?" I ask.

"Yes. I came here as a friend once. A long time ago. That was my decision."

"Are you sure?"

"How couldn't I be sure?" He pauses. "You know, back in 2030 I thought differently, but look how the world has turned to be what it is. We can be apart from it for a moment."
"If only a moment," I add.

"Then why escape it no longer. Why this constant plea for sanctuary? Amidst all this confusion, why not let the Council elect someone else?"
"Who would they elect George? This how things go. I tried reasoning with the council. But you know these kinds of things progress. That's why I prefer to come here." George laments, "It's peaceful out here. Away from the bureaucrats, and turmoil, and politics. I can find freedom in these silent spaces."

Perhaps He Knows More

I stand across from George. He has been elected last year to the Council. The world had changed dramatically since 2041. Our values as society shifted. Is this where our lives will be lead? I knew of the changes in the government for the last few months. George knew it well.

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