Another Saturday, another entry. Tell your friends. I’d tell mine but then I would be less mysterious.
I have seen the Hero die, clicked rewind to see the moment where the betrayal moves from wind to solid ice chunk. Sharpened to a point. Forward and backward. Living and dead. Absorbing the knife. Rejecting it and regrowing the skin.
The past and future are a ball on a tether. Sliding between the void and the majesty of existence, based on the angle of the end points.
Puppets in the hand of an old VCR and the cumbersome remote, the one that feasts on double A batteries, a gnawing savage with a deeper hunger. Knowing only one direction-more.
All my helpless victims. Believers of free-will: the beginning and end are always guaranteed. How and when, are entirely up for interpretation.
I play dress up as God, but really I am the magnifying glass in the hand of a child on a summer day, scorching ants on the front steps. Feeling important, but just leaving a small message to the other ants. Really though, the ants will just think the ones who got burnt had it coming. Stupid. Careless. Deserving.
The point enters. The point exits. Nothing changes for the victims or the bystanders.
Eventually, I’ll put down my toys and make something of my life. I hope whoever is watching gets some kind of satisfaction. Likely though, they won’t even press rewind.
They’ll just think I had it coming too. An ant with a VCR and a remote with dead batteries.
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