Writing is an art, and I do occasionally like to play around with its styles, forms, devices, and different genres. My intention is to communicate serious matters in a playful, effective manner. Here, with some risk of pedantic overstepping, I lump together fiction, satire, and magic realism. Feel free to laugh at the result.
I awaken one winter morning from a nightmare feeling groggy yet strangely feisty. A masked maniac wielding a sharp pencil had been chasing me down the street. What the heck was I afraid of? I was holding a bigger pencil in my hand, a yellow Dixon 2HB. I could have turned on my pursuer and written him off as an illusion.
Tottering to the bathroom, I decide to look deeper into my apparent cowardice. I resolve to journey into my psyche to visit an old archetype, Fear Itself, that mysterious hobgoblin of my psyche, for a face-to-face showdown. I had to act fast, though, before fear squelched the whole idea.
Downstairs, gulping a second cup of coffee to fuel lift-off, I plop myself in front of my computer, enter a classified code, and zoom off into inner space in my pixelated spaceship. Off I go, dodging black holes of idle speculation, comet storms of negativity, and warning signs about crashing into emptiness. Soon my GPS locates Fear Itself, holed up in a run-down estate perched on a bluff in the badlands of my psyche.
My laptop in hand, I strut right into its parlor. In shifting shadows, this masked fiend, Fear Itself, slithers to the back of the room, then suddenly arises full height in a menacing warrior pose. Sure enough, the creature, shimmering amorphously, resembles the creep who chased me in my nightmare. Its mask smirks contemptuously at me, yet I see no sign of life behind its eye holes. Tufts of red hair flare up frightfully from the creature’s temples, though its baggy cargo shorts lessen the overall menacing effect. [Read more…]