| I sought
contributors through Facebook. Seth, a friend I met at UCM,
submitted this original story. It is my hope that more fictional
stories can be published in future issues. I mistakenly
thought that this was part one of a series, but he corrected me
recently. It's simply a one off, but is enjoyable
nonetheless. Feedback may be sent to his e-mail address:
twisting.tortoise@gmail.com. By Seth Briscoe Our story takes place in a city separated by a long wall across the center dividing it by the North-East and the South-West. The South-West half is full of run down buildings and the majority of its residents live in poverty while the North-East half is undergoing a boom in business from production and trade agreements. In the run down section a rumor begins to spread amongst the downtrodden citizens that if you can write an enthralling story on a length of the wall you can be allowed passage to the other side and emjoy nearly unlimited prosperity. This inspires several people young and old to attempt it, only to be killed by the guards posted along the wall. Because of this the rumor changed to a story of those individuals' being stolen away for their hubris. Three generations later, one of the descendants of a man who believed in the original story and yet never tried it had passed down the story to his children, who had passed it to their children. Though after thirty years had passed the prospering North-East side had fallen on hard times as well due to several reasons. Now with guards no longer patrolling the length of the wall to keep the poor people out one of the man's descendants decides to attempt writing on the wall in hopes that the power of the legend might be able to change his future of destitution. He spends several months with a box of chalk he found diligently scribbling the story of his grandfather, who had passed on many stories. The man recapped parts of his grandparents life and stories that his grandfather and father had passed down to him that they had never gotten the chance to write themselves. After five months with his work undisturbed by the weather the young man stopped to rest one night only to find that the dry spell had been broken and overnight the rain had washed away almost all of the writing he had done since starting. The young man paused for a while, thinking about the damage done to all of his hard work. After he thought about it, he picked up the chalk again and started from where had left of the night before. He might not be able to finish the story in one go, and he may not be able to keep the narrative interesting throughout, but after putting in so much of his time and effort into it he felt it would be pointless to stop now. So now his hand continues scribbling out the story he could tell. The story his father, grandfather, and the rest of his family. In hopes that the end result would be a happy one if only in the story. That night he didn't rest, only continued to scribble down more and more of the story as if he were possesed. As the break of dawn approached he stopped his hand, and not because he had run out of words to write. By pushing the chalk against the wall a weakened section of it fell back and away from the young man. The sun had started to rise and illuminated around the buildings while shining through the opening in the wall. The other side, draped in sunlight played in his vision just like the stories his grandfather told as he saw them so many years ago, before the wall was built. There were streets free of garbage and the fancy vehicles that drove along them. Storefronts were filled with onlookers admiring the various wares on display. Crossing the fallen wall he took in the radiance of the city from the past and a great wind picked up from behind him carrying the souls of the many who had fallen before achieving their goal. The young man turned around to the direction of the wind before turning back around and followed the main road in front of the hole in the wall to a large intersection. The streets and sidewalks all around him were filled with many familiar and unfamiliar faces young and old which greeted him with chants and joyous praises. |