“Universality and the Way of All Things”
As I was walking through the library of life I spied a book from far away that seemed to call to me. “Read me! Read me!” It cried. And so being a rather obliging fellow, I obliged.
It was a dusty old tome bound in leather and locked by a chain that had long since rusted away...so unlocked, I suppose one could say. But that’s rather drab don’t you think?
It had always been a habit of mine when checking out a book to cheat a little and skip to the last chapter and read that first.
“And thusly, he died in his bed at a ripe old age surrounded by friends, family, and loved ones” Concluded the last page of this magnificent specimen.
BORING! Oh my god, so Boring.
Where was the pizazz, the oomph, the sex appeal? I wanted a book that was going to blow my socks off even when I wasn’t wearing any.
So I tossed it to the floor, spine twisted and pages bent. It was irredeemable in my eyes. I perused the shelf once more looking for something fresh, something new...Ah yes this will do. A new instrument of of entertainment had caught my eye, this one quite a rather thin novel, with hardly any binding at all. It moreso resembled a spiral notebook than anything else.
Turning to the back again I was dismayed to see that it was blank. Indeed, flipping backward towards the front revealed to me that the majority of the book lay unwritten. Only a scrap of an opening paragraph.
“Warmth, light, a tunnel, screaming, brighter lights, no lights, a box, warmth again”.
Incoherent gibberish! Bah. I so loathe free verse poetry. This book, if one dared to call it that, went to join the pile on the floor.
But still I was unsatisfied. Fear not for me stalwart companions! For there was yet one book left on the shelf. And it looked deliciously perfect. Crisp and clean, a neat little black book with freshly cut paper and a hand that scrawled across the page most elegantly.
This one I was determined to make a good one, and as I had jinxed the previous two by reading the ending first, I sat down right there and began to read it in entirety.
Oh it was most glorious! A literary buffet of sins and grief and loss. The author had truly captured the soul of the man. So enraptured was I in my new escape that the world dissolved around me until there was just me and my book.
So enraptured was I that I did not hear the rough man behind me approach, no, nor did I hear him accost me for my possessions. I did not hear the chamber click nor the bullet pass as it passed through my head. I did not even hear the screams of the other patrons of the library as they recoiled in horror from the scene.
And as my book fell to the ground, its pages fluttering apart, if one cared enough to read it one would have seen written there in a holy script:
“And thusly did he die, broken and alone. Surrounded by those he threw away, for he rushed headlong unto the end”.
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