They Were Many
I wrote this last night and posted it on MySpace but felt that I wanted to share it with the LJ crowd as well.
There once was boy who would wander too far from home. He would play in the forest and sit by the creek. He dipped his toes in the water as it folded in foam. He stared at the clouds and imagined worlds of dragons and monsters and heroes that tamed them rather than killing them. He would sleep in the shade and wake to the stars. He connected their light into constellations of myths no one else knew. When he would realize his hunger he would walk into his house, scolded by parents who feared his absence and thoughtless adventures. He was sent to his room with no dinner. He would read in the darkness by the light of a candle and draw his desires on sheets of paper he hid under his bed. One night, he had fallen asleep with his pen in his hand and a book on his lap. He was sitting on the floor with his back leaned against the foot of his bed. The candle had run out of wick and the moonlight was blocked by the curtains. And yet there was light. A soft glow pouring out of his closet. He crawled slowly to it and opened the door. There in the space that should have been smaller than his room, he found a doorway. It lead to a staircase that spiraled down into the earth. It smelled of graves that were yet to be filled. It sounded like caves that were once inhabited by creatures too dangerous to describe. He pulled a blanket around his shoulders and walked into the darkness. He climbed down the staircase wondering where the light was coming from and everytime he thought he was about to reach it, it seemed to move further away. He walked for a long time feeling his eyes wanting to shut. Feeling his legs wanting to stop. But he walked on. When he had forgotten to worry about how he would get back without the energy to climb, he found himself in an opening. The ground was earth, a fine powdery red dirt that seemed to have been traveled many times over. The opening was round like a cave and the walls were rock. In the center of this round opening were three men dressed in robes. They sat around an open fire with their eyes closed. When the boy came closer he saw letters drawn on their foreheads in what seemed to be ashes. When he tried to talk to them they didn't respond. Or atleast he thought they didn't. Then he noticed it. The lettering on their foreheads was ignited in small burst of light tracing the letters. It looked like fire racing through embers. It reminded him of threads burning with out a flame. He could read their thoughts in these letters. "We have been waiting for you" one of the men had thought. "You have come to set us free" thought the next one. The third man was silent and thoughtless. The boy came closer to him. Wanting to know what he would think. "Who are you?" asked the boy directly to the thoughtless man. His eyes opened and light shined out of them like flood lamps. It blinded the boy and he fell to his knees covering his face. The blanket slipping away, he could feel the cold of the darkness and the warmth of the light. "Who are you!?" demanded the boy. "We are many," he heard the man's thoughts as though they were his own. Not with his ears but with his soul. "We are the many that you have created. We must exist. The universe you have created is crowded down here. You must let us out into the real world or we will die. We are crowded in your mind." The boy slowly dropped his hands and saw the men were gone. Only the fire was there burning and keeping him warm. He looked around the room and suddenly realized the staircase was gone. He felt panic racing through his blood. He ran around the space looking for a way out. There was none. He dropped to the ground and threw his head back wanting to let out a loud yell for help but before he could, he saw there was rope hanging down from some dark space at the top of the cave. He reached for it and it took a few jumps before he grabbed a hold of it. He climbed. He was tired and weak so the effort was slow in results. His hands felt hot and the rope was peeling off layers of skin. Eventually the rope was bloody and he kept pulling himself up. He looked down and saw the fire burning in a distance under his feet. Far away like a candle. It flickered and went black. The boy was too tired to go any further and his hands slipped. A little at first but was it was enough to send searing pain through his bones as the rope ripped into his flesh. He let go completely in reflex and then tried to catch again but it was gone. All he could see was blackness. All he could hear was wind rushing by his ears. He squeezed his eyes tight bracing himself for the impact of the ground. In that silence he found an image in his mind. He saw himself from a source outside of his body. Hovering somewhere near by as though he had become omnipresent. He saw himself falling like a fruit off a tree. His head was the first thing to hit the ground and it split open like shell. It burst open wet with blood and dark with purpose. And in that fraction of a second in which his head was split in two, a brilliant explosion took place that he did not expect. Out of the hollow of that shell was born a great brilliance far brighter than light itself. It was as though it erased all sound and color. Like a star dying in an empty part of the universe. And then the force of this explosion pushed everything way like dust. The glow quickly took shape. Senseless shape at first but then molded itself into a woman and then a man and then another man and then a child and like pipe bursting there was a sudden fountain of people coming into existance. And they filled the universe with magic and miracle. Out of darkness there was light. Out of light there was fruit. Out of fruit there was life. Out of life there was a story. A story of many stories. Too rich and complicated to detail on canvas or paper. Monsters tamed and dragons befriended. Lives and adventures. They were many. In that many there was a boy. He lived on one of the planets that had been created. He lived in a family that did not understand him. He slept at the foot of his bed with a pen in his hand a book on his lap. He would one day say that he believed a soul could be captured in book if the right words were written in the right way. He would never know how he knew this. But somehow he would just know. As though all mankind was a collective same. They were many.
There once was boy who would wander too far from home. He would play in the forest and sit by the creek. He dipped his toes in the water as it folded in foam. He stared at the clouds and imagined worlds of dragons and monsters and heroes that tamed them rather than killing them. He would sleep in the shade and wake to the stars. He connected their light into constellations of myths no one else knew. When he would realize his hunger he would walk into his house, scolded by parents who feared his absence and thoughtless adventures. He was sent to his room with no dinner. He would read in the darkness by the light of a candle and draw his desires on sheets of paper he hid under his bed. One night, he had fallen asleep with his pen in his hand and a book on his lap. He was sitting on the floor with his back leaned against the foot of his bed. The candle had run out of wick and the moonlight was blocked by the curtains. And yet there was light. A soft glow pouring out of his closet. He crawled slowly to it and opened the door. There in the space that should have been smaller than his room, he found a doorway. It lead to a staircase that spiraled down into the earth. It smelled of graves that were yet to be filled. It sounded like caves that were once inhabited by creatures too dangerous to describe. He pulled a blanket around his shoulders and walked into the darkness. He climbed down the staircase wondering where the light was coming from and everytime he thought he was about to reach it, it seemed to move further away. He walked for a long time feeling his eyes wanting to shut. Feeling his legs wanting to stop. But he walked on. When he had forgotten to worry about how he would get back without the energy to climb, he found himself in an opening. The ground was earth, a fine powdery red dirt that seemed to have been traveled many times over. The opening was round like a cave and the walls were rock. In the center of this round opening were three men dressed in robes. They sat around an open fire with their eyes closed. When the boy came closer he saw letters drawn on their foreheads in what seemed to be ashes. When he tried to talk to them they didn't respond. Or atleast he thought they didn't. Then he noticed it. The lettering on their foreheads was ignited in small burst of light tracing the letters. It looked like fire racing through embers. It reminded him of threads burning with out a flame. He could read their thoughts in these letters. "We have been waiting for you" one of the men had thought. "You have come to set us free" thought the next one. The third man was silent and thoughtless. The boy came closer to him. Wanting to know what he would think. "Who are you?" asked the boy directly to the thoughtless man. His eyes opened and light shined out of them like flood lamps. It blinded the boy and he fell to his knees covering his face. The blanket slipping away, he could feel the cold of the darkness and the warmth of the light. "Who are you!?" demanded the boy. "We are many," he heard the man's thoughts as though they were his own. Not with his ears but with his soul. "We are the many that you have created. We must exist. The universe you have created is crowded down here. You must let us out into the real world or we will die. We are crowded in your mind." The boy slowly dropped his hands and saw the men were gone. Only the fire was there burning and keeping him warm. He looked around the room and suddenly realized the staircase was gone. He felt panic racing through his blood. He ran around the space looking for a way out. There was none. He dropped to the ground and threw his head back wanting to let out a loud yell for help but before he could, he saw there was rope hanging down from some dark space at the top of the cave. He reached for it and it took a few jumps before he grabbed a hold of it. He climbed. He was tired and weak so the effort was slow in results. His hands felt hot and the rope was peeling off layers of skin. Eventually the rope was bloody and he kept pulling himself up. He looked down and saw the fire burning in a distance under his feet. Far away like a candle. It flickered and went black. The boy was too tired to go any further and his hands slipped. A little at first but was it was enough to send searing pain through his bones as the rope ripped into his flesh. He let go completely in reflex and then tried to catch again but it was gone. All he could see was blackness. All he could hear was wind rushing by his ears. He squeezed his eyes tight bracing himself for the impact of the ground. In that silence he found an image in his mind. He saw himself from a source outside of his body. Hovering somewhere near by as though he had become omnipresent. He saw himself falling like a fruit off a tree. His head was the first thing to hit the ground and it split open like shell. It burst open wet with blood and dark with purpose. And in that fraction of a second in which his head was split in two, a brilliant explosion took place that he did not expect. Out of the hollow of that shell was born a great brilliance far brighter than light itself. It was as though it erased all sound and color. Like a star dying in an empty part of the universe. And then the force of this explosion pushed everything way like dust. The glow quickly took shape. Senseless shape at first but then molded itself into a woman and then a man and then another man and then a child and like pipe bursting there was a sudden fountain of people coming into existance. And they filled the universe with magic and miracle. Out of darkness there was light. Out of light there was fruit. Out of fruit there was life. Out of life there was a story. A story of many stories. Too rich and complicated to detail on canvas or paper. Monsters tamed and dragons befriended. Lives and adventures. They were many. In that many there was a boy. He lived on one of the planets that had been created. He lived in a family that did not understand him. He slept at the foot of his bed with a pen in his hand a book on his lap. He would one day say that he believed a soul could be captured in book if the right words were written in the right way. He would never know how he knew this. But somehow he would just know. As though all mankind was a collective same. They were many.