Me

Just something I wrote about creativity, one can see it in different ways.

-          Creativity is the one thing I cannot handle, my nemesis, my worst enemy in the vast universe of fiction.

He sits in nothingness; an average boy, once filled and surrounded with dreams and hopes of glory. No he is lost in thoughts about his own salvation.

-          There are no magical fixes they told me, everything comes from you, they showed me.

He bends his head down, resting it in his hands.

-          Yet I do not see it anymore.

Short flashes fade in and out around him; kids that are playing, a daring adventurer and a caring mother. Yet all silent

-          If this is everything that comes from me, what is the point?

He scratches his head, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

-          The point is to keep trying.

He takes a look behind him, an older man approaches him. With wrinkles all over the face and a badly shaved white stub, the old man kneels   right beside him.

-          The point is that you need to understand that everyone starts at nothing, and from nothing you can do anything.

To old man put his shaky hand to the man’s shoulder.

-          You need to open your eyes and mind to what is missing around you, only when you see that something is missing you can start to aim towards it.

The man looks at the elder, yet he is not there anymore, like a slave in history he is lost.

-          I know what I am missing.

He slowly and steadily stands up, looking forward.

-          Me.

The second he says that light, colors and shapes explode around him. His surroundings are filled with noise, music, pictures, smells and more importantly, himself.

Author's Note

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