Note: Written for the Review Game's September Writing Challenge Contest. Check out the other entries and vote for your favorite the 8th-14th. This month's prompt was: "Our lives are not our own. From womb to tomb, we are bound to others, both past and present." -Cloud Atlas
The End? Child, I hope you learn to ignore that phrase.
From our very first picturebooks and fairy tales, we're told there are limits to lives. Stories are In the beginning through The End, and you go to bed when the pages run out. Lights out. Goodnight, world, goodnight.
But when, in your experience, Child, is the story really over then?
After The End, do you not dream of further tales: the what-ifs, why-nots, what-abouts? Who knows those stories? Who writes them?
We are the characters and the storytellers. We are the adventurers, tragic heroes, femme fatales, comedic geniuses. And, better still, Child, the story continues to unfold no matter what, because the cast always grows.
We live a storied future, just as, someday, someone will live ours. We'll never meet those future characters, but our legacy will guide their plot, another's subplot or theme, on and on in an ever-growing prologue. Because, in truth, there is no End in sight.
Cheer up, Child; we're only just getting started.