Friday, July 25, 2003


The following is an improvised story. A practice in stream of consciousness writing. I have no idea what it will be about. When I have finished I will only correct spelling and grammar. The story will be left unchanged. Lets see if this works:

Four crickets sat on a leaf. To them the leaf was a boat in the middle of a chaotic lake filled with vile creatures and vast wilderness. The leaf was safe. The leaf was home.

One day a most remarkable thing happened. "I'm moving," said the smallest cricket, a dark brown personality with brilliant yellow eyes.

"Moving?" The largest and most popular cricket laughed as he spoke. "Where would you go? Look at would not survive one day in the wilderness. You are small and not very bright. Besides, The Great Cricket has clearly taught us that movement is futile. Only staticity draws us into oneness with the universe." The lead cricket closed his golden eyes and began to meditate. The two other bugs followed his lead.

"I'm still leaving!" The irreverent rebel interupted. "I'm leaving and you can't stop me. There is no Great Cricket. I've never seen him anyway. All your religion is good for is creating boring non-eventful lives. I would trade one day in the wilderness for a lifetime of days on this leaf."

"But you are so young," the oldest cricket belched. "Be patient, young One day you may be ready for such adventures. When I was your age I nearly left the leaf as well, but a wise old cricket reminded me that youthful decisions are always regretted. So I stayed...and I haven't left since. It will pass, my son. Let it pass."

"I will not let it pass." The young cricket grew angry and loud. "I will not make your mistake. I will leave. Today, if I must."

The small cricket hopped to the edge of the leaf and began to leap.

"Wait!" the last cricket chirped. All bug eyes turned to him. He was frail and old, nearly as old as the third cricket. He rarely spoke and when he did nobug really ever listened. He lifted his head, "You must go, my son. It is your destiny."

"And who are you to speak of destiny? You are the least in the colony?" The lead insect spoke in a deep voice.

"I am the voice of experience," the enigmatic cricket said. "I have been in the wilderness. I have left the leaf."

"You left the leaf and yet you returned?" The young cricket chirped. "How...why?"

"There are those who never leave and condemn those who do," the sage said as he eyed the leader. "And there are those who leave and never return...But there are also those who must leave so that they can find the joy in the journey home."

With that the old prophet smiled at the young journeyman. And with one leap the tiny traveler began his journey home.

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