The Wall

I wrote this at 3 am and thought it was a good idea. I'd like to speak it somewhere someday.

I am a forest dweller. I only walk in the dark. This worked for years. It was lonely but it worked. I began to want more though, for being a forest dweller is sad and can only get you so far. So I decided to find something more, not really knowing what more was, and which point I stumbled apon a house. This house was the biggest most beautiful house I had ever seen. I wasn’t sure I wanted live in the house because it was new and bright and I had been so accustomed to the dark. I finally decided to see what the house was. So I went up and knocked on the door, and the house let me in. It let me live in it. And it became wonderful. I began to explore the house, finding new things around every corner. I decided to live in the house and it was great. I took care of the house and the house took care of me. I made sure it was dusted and stayed beautiful and it kept me safe from the woods. After living in the house for quite a long time I realized that I had run out of food. I decided the only way to get food would be in the forest. So I told the house I would be away for a bit and I was sorry I had to go but I promised I would be back. I came back with so much food it would last me years just so I could stay in the house and never have to leave. But when I went to find the house all I could find was a giant wall. Now when I say giant I mean giant, it went for miles and miles north to south and east to west. I knew that house had to be somewhere behind this wall, and I knew I would never find another house like it again. I knew I could not go back to the woods. So I decided to go around the wall. I walked for miles and miles and days and days until I decided it was too much. I tried to bargain with the wall. I tried knocking over the wall. I screamed at the wall. I hated the wall. Then one day I decided to climb it. I got all of my gear to climb and I tried. I didn’t get very far at first. The wall was much too steep and much too flat. So I started throwing things at the wall, hoping it would cause holes and I would be able to climb. But with every throw the wall would grow taller. But even so I kept trying to climb. But with the climbing came falling. I fell many times. Over and over. I became bruised and broken and so did the wall but I was not giving up. Until I did. Because climbing a wall that cannot be climbed is very hard and very dangerous. So I screamed at the wall. I yelled because it was blocking the house I had once had and it was either forward or backward and I could not go back. After months of trying to break this wall I had to stop. And with stopping I had realized I would have to give up. So I wept. I wept for what I was, what I had, what I began with. I wept for what this became, I wept for my future, and I wept for my sanity. And as I wept I gave the wall one more chance. ‘It’s backwards or forwards but I cannot just stop moving.“ And just like that the wall began to fall. Not all at once, just pieces, little by little the wall began to fall. But as I watched it fall I began afraid that the house would not be behind it anymore. But I knew if that were the case, at least I had the broken wall, which I could try to build the house with again.

Author's Note

I wrote this all at once and hope to improve it in the future

Reviews

[Peter Rogerson]

An interesting idea. If you need advice (you say you don't write much) a story looks easier to read if it is broken into paragraphs, each new idea being a new paragraph. It's a thought. I think you have the sort of mind that can create greatness.