Day 40 Writing Short Stories

Lens

The universe is composed of things, of bits and parts, of bolts and nuts—all of which I have been investigating since my birth. I was never one for the fields, for the running. My bony fingers and weightless body were made for the curiosity of the mind. Mind you, I would have chosen differently if there were a choice, but like with everything in the universe, there isn’t. I have calculated the odds of free will, and they are slim to none. So, mind you, when you say there is a choice. There isn’t. There is just the code in the matter of the universe. All highly comforting.

Or so I thought, until things got a bit tricky. Until the bones of mine were no longer the restriction, I thought them to be. Then, when the matter was mine to master, I found it hard to support my previous hypothesis of free will, matter, the universe, and I walked straight into the trap of the perspective. The ever-so-harmful, powerful perspective, which seems to have the habit of converting even the basic elements of normal interactions. Say a speculation can shape social circles, markets, and the destinies of the many. I discovered that, and I couldn’t hold my tongue. It painted the world anew, and in the process, I lost myself. Too much. Too, too much.

—

I couldn’t find a story, not the way I did yesterday, just fragments of my thoughts, and a whole lot of annoyance. I feel frustrated with my book and my writing now that I’m editing it after getting it back from my editor. I feel like I can’t tell which is good and which isn’t, or whether I’m right or she is wrong. Whether she is trying to shape my book in the right direction or not. Yet, I see her point, and I know there is a kernel of truth; hence the annoyance and frustration.

Today’s prompt had all the potential to be a great one, but I couldn’t find the tone: comic. I just have this melancholic feeling sitting inside me, holding on to me with all its appendages. I also got science fiction, tragedy, and first-person POV today. All promising a great story, yet I couldn’t deliver. If I were a moody one, I would throw myself on my couch, holding my hand over my forehead and sigh, sigh ever so loudly. I might as well do that, as I’m a moody one.

Thank you for reading! Have a day of clarity ❤