Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Friendship is not a Boat

It’s a train, and we have ridden it together for years now, pointing out the sights just outside the window to one another. But I have seen things that you have not, and when I show them to you, you never understand. And you draw my attention to things you have seen and I have too, but that repulse me, and then I will never understand how you can consider them worth your time. And just when I think you’ve become something foul, you prove that you are instead childish, and you point out the same old things that were new when we were still unaware of the dark shape just barely visible in the distance, a black smudge against the sky that is no longer blue.

I don’t show you what it is, because I’m curious, and I want to see if you will discover it for yourself. But you don’t, you just keep laughing at the things that have long since ceased to be funny, and the things that have never been and never will be, and you laugh so hard that you cry. And that disgusts me as much as your new sights do, so I turn my eyes to the hope written in brick and plastic on the horizon, because now that I know how you’re rotting from the inside out I don’t feel the need to watch it happening.

We slow, and then we stop. I stand up and you look at me, and you can’t understand why I am carrying all my bags with me, and then you look out the window and finally see what I’ve been seeing and anticipating for what seems like an eternity. I am prepared, and you are not.

Wait, you say. What is that? Why are you standing?

And I tell you:

Friendship is a train.

This is my stop.

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From Melusine to Adelaide. These are two of my storyless characters, and their friendship has not quite progressed to this point at the start of the nonexistent story, but it will get there.

Honestly, I have no idea what sort of setting they're going to end up in. I have a few more characters from the same world - Amedea Lewis, Konrad Lancaster, Thaddeus MacGregor - and the character relationships could work in a world mundane or magical, modern or medieval. So really, I'm facing choice paralysis.

Maybe I'll write short stories testing out the different waters. I have most of one in which Amedea (Amy) confronts Thaddeus about his recklessness in a world in which they are monsters and thus distrusted by the general population...but this is a path I will go down only reluctantly, because "special people oppressed by society" is not the premise I want for my story.

We shall see.

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