Snippet: Broken Truths
I am awakening. I very nearly tremble. The dry heated air passes over my prickling skin. The library was meant to be a warm refuse on this heartless winter's day. Outside the window, bony tree branches scrape at the gray sky, begging for mercy. I am in on a whim. Tired of internet searches and pages that scroll past my unfocused eyes. I came here for comfort. But hidden in the stacks, between historic accounts of brave men and righteous deeds, I find a kernel of truth. Now the very fabric of time threatens to unwind around me. The tons of printed pages around me. They're crafted from the fragile wings of whispering moths, and are as fleeting. "Non Fiction," says the end of this aisle. "Historical," it goes on. As if a word has every been written in the pursuit of recording the facts. I have been told, "History is written by the victors." But the words were insubstantial. Candy floss, fair enough to hear, and I would nod my head to commiserate what sounded like cynical sageisms. But in between two plastic-sheathed tomes on the achievements of solitary leaders, a rustle of feathers shakes in my ear. A hushed song of ancient understanding. Nothing is true that has ever been said or written. The library crumbles to rubble, the updraft of air carries the smell of old and new pages alike, as I turn and run for the exit. Author's note: These snippets are unedited free-writing exercises that I use as a way to shift my brain into a creative state. I use Lynda Barry's What It Is YouTube timed exercises (usually 9 minutes worth of writing) for these. They are handwritten in a composition notebook, and then typed up here. As I transcribe them, I do tiny grammar and spelling checks, but the overall "clarity" (if you can call it that) of the exercise is left as-is.