Day 106 Writing Short Stories

First Try

In and through and beyond, that was my goal. I was never made to be on the sidelines, be patient, and humble. I was made for the riches of this world and beyond. If it meant bending rules, then so be it.

I was on the brink of great success. One that would make me a man on my own.

—

The Borealis played on the sky, shifting from bright green to neon pink. It painted the frozen ground and the dark lake with its reflection. I watched the dance, transfixed by the movement over the sparkling stars. When I was little, I imagined the fox running through the fell, lifting all the snow into the sky, giving us and my people the Aurora Borealis. This was what was to be rich. The frozen ground, the darkened lake, and the lights were what my bones were made of. It was what my ancestors saw and told stories about. And I would give those stories to the generations to come so that they could find their footing on the snow.

I lifted the steaming hot tea to my lips and breathed in the aroma. It was too hot to drink, but the mere thought of drinking it here and now, as nature showed its might, was enough to satisfy me.

Frost crackled around me, giving rhythm to the dance.

It had taken me a long time to understand what life was about, and why the old said that youth was wasted on the young. I was ready to grow my hair long and gray, and be as wild as I wanted. I had moved back north to be with my ancestral bones and forgo the pursuit of things. Things that never strengthened the bones or the heart.

I wrapped my hands closer to my body and settled down to watch the Aurora Borealis. The routes, stories of my youth, and the nature of my people – that was what it meant to be alive.

—

I couldn’t find the right words today. Everything I wrote felt hollow. I deleted sentences and started the story over and again. What I got today was a voice-driven rags-to-riches comedy written in the first person. I’m sick and tired of the rags-to-riches narrative. I feel like I have nothing to offer to the subject. I have written several short stories about it. And personally, I feel like the narrative is the biggest lie we are told today. That you can get rich by hard work and the right kind of personality and appearance. The more I read, the more I see that the stories we hear about self-made entrepreneurs are just stories. They got their money from their parents and had good connections and conditions from the get-go to test and fail. Yet the narrative still goes around that I started in a garage and look at me now. Sigh. And like with the gold rush (read: now the AI hype), the ones who sold the picks and axes were the ones who got rich.

Sorry about the rant. I clearly have issues with the rags-to-riches story.

Yesterday, we saw the Aurora Borealis. It was the first for this autumn. I think we humans are richer than we think we are.

Thank you for reading! Have a rich day and see you tomorrow ❤