Friday 12 August 2011

Invented

This is much too late. To my darling, Cinnamon Brown, who was so very kind to give me Mich's Story Time Blogger Medal - I really don't deserve any kind of awards for this mess I leave you. Thank you so much, it is high time I finally shared with you all.

The only way I come back here is by 'out of sight, out of mind'.

You are all so lovely to me.

I wrote little of this piece a long time ago and it was the right opportunity to finish it.
It isn't much, but it was something.



The words had played out all they could conjure. The Man held then in his arms for the very last time before gently laying them out on to the ground, where they were left as he turned his back to go. Motionless; just as words ought to be when out of use. The Man has been left with something of nothing, new words will come just as the seasons come to pass too. Soon things will change. An Old Man told of how it would.

It is a stern time of year for the Writer. He works his fingers to the core, bone exposed but work produced in unison. The Writer doesn't want to forget this time. Not one single word in even the most insignificant utterance. He understands the power that lies in length, structure and mannerism. He knows he's giving away something so very important - even if he cannot quite put his finger on it just yet. The days stayed longer and finally the lunar cycle was near to it's full circle. This was the Writer's favourite sight to see. Then, he knew how.

When history repeats itself, it can be for many aspects of life. So, it should be of little surprise to hear how soon the life lead by the Writer became a mirror image of the pen stroke to his pages. It should have been of little concern that he was locked away in the tops of the house for many hours of passing days. The room had skylight enough, should he choose to continue his work at any hour. Had it not been for the way his skin seemed to change to an almost paper thin translucency and his fingers of spindles with ink and no feather, none of the townsfolk would have batted a lash. On the rare occasion that he should leave his state to sit by the river, the children playing nearby so happily had sworn more than once to seen him lay his pen by his side and compose in a most fluent script with but the tip of his fore finger. Where there is no knowledge, fear creeps into the Living's hearts. An Old Man had noted how it was a transformation only possible under the seduction of an inspiring moon.

The year grew and the mind of effortlessly. It was now important that the Storyteller should come to town and meet with the Writer. There were lines to be learnt and morals to be explained. This was the trade and the only way to keep a living. But this year the Writer grew agitated, it was after all his masterwork. Why should the Storyteller fall so far behind? So the Writer packed up all his worldly possessions, said goodbye to the places he had so long haunted and set out himself. He told of his new year's tale wherever he went, and the Living took heart. They wept at his sadness, rejoiced in his beauty and learnt at his lament. It was a simple truth he had revealed.

Soon the Man knew he had to leave his words behind and become one with the places in which he came. As this was done, Life caught up with the Man and he aged. He wanders the land on foot no longer, only by book, where his words have been written a thousand times over. The Old Man had written too carefully, he shall not be the first, nor the last. This is magic older than much of all we have come to know to exist. The Writer was the Living. The day he meets Death is the day never-ever ceases to exist.
(But..)
The Living don't want to forget. Words always mean something, even after they are gone.
The Living are love in a literal form. Words are love in a physical form.





(Just as I don't want to forget to love you)



I nominate Lilly, Haze, Bella, Heather, Peri, Barry and Margg.

11 comments:

  1. "The day he meets Death is the day never-ever ceases to exist.
    (But..)
    The Living don't want to forget. Words always mean something, even after they are gone."

    Oh my, oh my! Mhairi, I'm blown away. Especially with the last lines. Just hit the softest part of my heart. I guess writers do leave the most treasures in this world, that is their writings, their stories.

    And thank you for the award dear. I know I cannot ever write a story as beautiful as this.
    xx

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  2. Just beautiful, Mhairi! You so deserve this award! Have a super weekend. <3. XXX.

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  3. That was beautiful to read with the snow flying by outside. I have to admit that I am confused, but that is a common brain state these days >.<

    I'll have to re-read this in the morning. Gods I wish I could write like you!

    Thank you for the award. I'll have to think of something to tell.

    Love you <3

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  4. How incredibly fun!!

    Lovely <3

    Will do my utmost to write a story soon =)

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  5. I love this, it was so beautifully written.

    Have you ever read The Angel's Game? Something about your tone reminds me a bit of that book:
    http://www.amazon.com/Angels-Game-Carlos-Ruiz-Zafon/dp/1596063629/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1313512491&sr=8-4

    Hope you post some more of your writing!!

    xoxo

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  6. Mhairi, thank you thank you thank you! :) This was most unexpected and comes on the heels of some rough days at work. You always manage to put a smile on my face. :)

    I've posted something in response, hope you're doing well my sweet.

    xo

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  7. Ok...so I'm apparently a blogger ding-dong, lol. When you mentioned you nominated me for an award I thought it was somewhere 'out there' with millions of others. Had no idea it was here, on your blog until I came to read. So thank you so very much!

    I love what you've written here and I too like the last lines but this one also struck me: Had it not been for the way his skin seemed to change to an almost paper thin translucency and his fingers of spindles with ink and no feather, none of the townsfolk would have batted a lash.

    I think those of us who love to write can identify with this at some point in our lives. I will try to do this award justice. Thank you, again. <3

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  8. You are such an incredibly writer and storyteller! Can't wait to read more of you. :)

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  9. i loved this. I always get excited when you post and take my time absorbing in the love
    <3

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  10. http://www.heatherhampton.com/2011/08/this-place-storytime-blog-award.html

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  11. Hi Mhairi,

    I'm leaving Blogger, so I just wanted to say thank you so much for your kindness and support. I hope you find the sun. All my love. <3. XXX.

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Thank you for your words.