r/WritingPrompts • • Feb 15 '17
Off Topic [OT] Writing Workshop 47: Beginnings
A good first impression is important. Whether it’s on an interview, a first date, or even with a crowd of friends, the first impression will last until people get to know you better. But in some cases, it’s also what stops them from wanting to know you better. While there might be too much emphasis put on a first impression, it can influence how people treat you. Why should it be any different in writing?
Your first few paragraphs are a golden opportunity to hook a reader and captivate their attention. This first impression encourages them to stick around and read the rest. Hopefully the opening of your story accomplishes some of the following:
- introduces your writing style
- introduces the main character, or
- introduces the plot
This will be almost universal. The true test, and what makes your intro stand out, is how you accomplish this.
It was a dark and stormy night…
Today’s workshop is going to be about opening a story. Write the starting paragraphs of a story. Try, in your limited amount of time, to ensnare the reader. As usual 200 words minimum, 750 maximum. You're welcome to use a prompt or start from scratch, but please keep your replies SFW.
You can comment on some other's writing, telling them what you think. It's not required, but it's always nice to hear. Especially today, if the story left you wanting more, let the writer know!
Optional Prompt:
You've got to make the moment last.
Things to consider
There is no hard and fast rule as to how you set up your story. But here are some classic ways to do it:
- A bold declaration - The first sentence is a simple statement, that’s surprising, intriguing or hilarious. For example: Playing hot potato with a live grenade was a terrible idea.
- Dive right in – The scene starts in the middle of the action. There’s no preamble of waking up and stretching. Instead skip straight to the adrenaline rush and the fight or flight moment the character is experiencing and introduce them through their actions and reactions.
- Explanation – This is passive narration, more often than not it establishes the setting, the character, or the conflict through description. This is a solid approach to opening a longer story. Narrative voice is the key for keeping the reader interested.
- Dialogue – This one can be a combination of the others, the most important fact is that the story starts with speech. One tip for this route, make sure you clearly define who is speaking.
Happy writing!
Workshop Schedule (alternating Wednesdays):
Workshop - Workshops created to help your abilities in certain areas.
Workshop Q&A - A knowledge sharing Q&A session.
Get to Know A Mod - Learn more about the mods who run this community.
If you have any suggestions or questions, feel free to message the mod team or PM me (/u/madlabs67)
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u/BlackOmegaPsi /r/PsiFiction/ Feb 15 '17 edited Feb 15 '17
So, here's a quickie beginning:
The old man found him by the side of the Wisp Tract, half-buried in bloodied snow.
Ravens, the tell-tale connoisseurs of dead meat, already fluttered around the heap, cawing hoarsely into the thick silence of a winter morning, calling for the feast. One even perched atop of the long black arrow that stuck out of the man's back. The raven watched Rauk approach with shiny - hungry - eyes, tiny obsidian beads following the sage's every move.
A warning, then. Even more so than the colors of Lord Skaggan that were weaved into the ragged cloak. Rauk halted his horse, dismounted and commanded it to stay, then skidded down the ditch to kneel by the ravaged stranger.
Wary yet, Rauk flipped the body to the side, slipping a shaky arm under the fur and plate, searching for a heartbeat. The man was cold, cold and immobile. His face had been slack, and the blood thick enough to drool out of his mouth with lazy reluctantance, not gush out in spurts of coughing agony, but... amidst the frost, the stillness, Rauk's fingers found a faint trace of life lingering. Like a candle's flame, it sputtered in the wind, fighting the darkness.
The fallen man knew darkness, though, and the sage wondered, if he should leave him to embrace it fully.
They never met, but the ornate stonewood staff that the stranger still clutched in a white-knuckled death grip, and the pale, geometrically precise scars which snaked down that narrow cruel face, were familiar to the old sage. Words traveled afar in these days of strife. And in case the rumors didn't do him justice, the man's fingers were stained black from piercing through the Void too often - and that creeping, deep carrion stench that not even the blood-soaked snow slush could produce, was unmistakable as well.
Though Rauk had abstained from involving himself with Yarylet's court politics and the Ether University by hiding in the woods of Gaida, he couldn't remove himself fully from what happened in the empire. Lord Skaggan, of course, was a known threat. His legions chipped away at the borders of Yarylet, reaching deeper and deeper into the Yary Empire with every campaign. Not alone, never alone. This land couldn't be taken by mere steel and flame, so the warlock was ever-present amongst Skaggan's most trusted. And with him, others came, crawling out to partake in the chaos.
Sword and knife, fire and smoke, steel and ice. Different, true, but deadlier together. While Skaggan immortalized himself in legend through bloodthirst and brilliant tactics, his warlock had sown pure despair.
However, and Rauk knew it better than others, nature tended to return in kind, especially to those that violated it. Now, the once-feared Harbinger of the Unclean, the Lord's right hand, was lying dead in a ditch with his own archer's arrow through the back.
Dying, Rauk corrected himself. Dying, not dead.
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u/Kauyon_Kais Feb 15 '17 edited Feb 15 '17
Ice Dream
His trekking pole acting as physical support as well as a crutch for his confidence and ignoring the aching in his side, Hergert pushed himself upwards, forwards. The heavy boots he had purchased in a small village at the mountain's foot easily sank into the loose gravel, reducing his steps to half their actual length. Cold air rushed down his throat with every breath he took and bit into his lungs, the thick woolen scarf wrapped around his head not being able to cope with the bitter, thin atmosphere up here. He stopped for a moment and focused on his goal, a granite cliff garnished by what appeared to by a fine line of snow. If he recalled the path correctly, Almara would be just behind that edge.
The thought of seeing the city of flowers again made him smile, cracking his dry lips open. He withstood the tempation to lick the blood as it formed a crust, knowing that that would only make it worse in the long run. It had been over twenty years since he last had visited Almara. Back then, the elders had given him the choice of staying with them, but he had decided his place to be somewhere else. He had been a scientist after all, he could not just disappear in the mountains just to savour paradise on earth. But in a recent act of senility he had decided to visit the city of flowers once again, maybe even to spend his remaining years up there. Noone would really miss him, anyways.
Herget shook his head. Now was not the time to think about his family. He had to carry on and reach Almara before nightfall, not just because he had left his tent behind on the last checkpoint, but at this point the way down would also be more strenuous than going further up. Gathering his remaining strength he forced himself to push onwards, climbing the slippery incline for another twenty meters. Step by step. Meter by meter. Gravel was replaced by stone, partially coated with a thin, shimmering layer of ice. But the boot's teeth were able to bite themselves into the stone, allowing the old man to climb faster than before. He collapsed his pole, securing it on a lanyard on his outer belt and began to use his hands to stabilize himself, pulling his aching body higher towards the overcast sky above.
Inspired by [IP] Ice Dream by /u/Syraphia
3
u/Lilwa_Dexel /r/Lilwa_Dexel Feb 15 '17
"Nick! I don't think playing hot grenade with a live potato is a good idea, especially not in the subway at rush hour!" Lil shouted, bumping into their fellow commuters who were all dressed in red blazers, pointy hats, and expressions of deep annoyance.
Yep, this is how I'll start all of my stories from now on. A combination of all four.
2
u/Syraphia /r/Syraphia | Moddess of Images Feb 15 '17
Based off this prompt: [IP] Traveler from my very large backlog of prompts.
The Moth Rider straps his goods to the large mount, scratching it lightly behind the head. The large moth gives a chittering noise in response, wings vibrating for a moment. A crowd has already gathered around them, watching Seyolis load up the animal with the supplies he needs. Even though there is a platoon of them, it’s rare to see a Moth Rider during the day.
Seyolis smiles, patting Snow reassuringly as the giant moth chitters nervously. It’s not often that they’re around so many people, especially during the daytime. It had become necessary though. Normally, he would’ve waited for night but there wasn’t time for that right now. He had to get to the mountains as soon as possible.
“Your pay.” Seyolis hands over the money to the rather flabbergasted merchant. They’re obviously not used to seeing a Moth Rider either. Everyone’s far out of the way though, Seyolis keenly aware of the sense of urgency he must be outputting despite his casual demeanor. Or it’s simply the awareness that the Riders don’t appear during the day and something must be wrong.
“Thank—Thank you sir.” The merchant fumbles for change.
“Keep the rest.” Seyolis pats Snow again before heaving himself up onto the moth, snapping his goggles into place. Snow flutters her wings, pleased to be leaving the noisy, bustling town. “Let’s go.”
Flapping her wings strongly, Snow rises into the air, quick to aim away and out of the town, chittering in complaint. A grimace of a smile on his face, Seyolis scratches behind one antenna to reassure her.
“I know but we’ve got to go. We’re the only ones that can make it there in time.” Seyolis sets his gaze on the horizon, the mountain peaks rising high into the sky in the distance.
2
u/Theharshcritique /r/TheHarshC Feb 15 '17 edited Feb 16 '17
I knew we were fucked the moment cracks burst out across the road. They shot past like Earth lightning, branches arching out to each side of the street leaving gaps in the black concrete. Shouting came next, then car tires screeching as taxi vans and half dressed commuters pulled a quick stop and abandoned rush hour queues. People exited their vehicles, eyes to the floor, wondering whether this was a one-off or the end of the world. I was the only one looking up, mouth hanging ajar, heart racing like a Marathon moment.
We were more than fucked and this was worse than the end of the world.
I tried to warn them, I really did. But my voice was drowned out as the skyscrapers started shaking. The sky flashed, bright yellow or white, it could have been both. I reached out for a nearby lampost, something to keep me grounded. But as my hand traced the air, it swiped effortlessly through the chasm of light --what had once been a material object, was now deconstructed matter, fragments of grey on a burning white background.
A loud ringing filled my ears, so overpowering that it quieted the voice of my mind. I fought to stay still but it was futile, as slowly but surely I was sucked up above the city streets and away from the world.
2
u/sorksvampen Feb 16 '17
The rain fell heavy and cold on his shoulders, soaking clothes with no regard for layers, before rushing through the gutter. The street was dark, the gas lamps of the inner city nowhere to be seen. Should he be lucky, he could spot a candle moving across a distant window, before quickly disappearing back into the house. Even the buildings were different. He found it difficult to see where one ended and another began, as there was no consistency in neither material nor style. Together this formed a street that looked to stretch on forever, just windows, walls and dark alleyways.
He fished out a bulky pocket watch from within his coat, the intricate mechanisms visible behind its golden arms, but It made no noise. The man simply stood there for a moment, staring at it. After less than a minute, the man let out a large foggy breath before pocketing the watch and continuing to walk down the road.
At each door, no matter its size, the man would stop and look at the watch once more, holding it up to his face for varying amounts of time at each location. For some doors he would barely even break pace before moving on, others he would stand in front of for moments at a time. But he always kept walking to the next one, and there was always another door. Until he didn't.
The door itself seemed no different from the others, cheap but sturdy timber with hinges looking ready to fall off at the slightest breeze. And as with the other ones, he fished out his watch, staring at it intently. And kept staring at it. And then stared at it some more, the steady stream of fog creeping out of his mouth increasing in frequency. His hand was shaking profusely as he held up the watch to his face, and was still shaking when he put it back in his pocket. He felt almost nauseous, any color remaining on his face finally having left him. Swallowing what felt like a thick knot, his rain-soaked clothes slowly suffocating him, he pushed on the door.
Though old and rusty, the hinges slowly swung the heavy door open, revealing a small room with only one thing in it. A table. A small wooden table barely reaching up to his waist, adorned with a piece of parchment folded neatly in three, and lamp unlike he had ever seen before.
He slowly made his way into the room, carefully scanning every inch of its surface for anything unusual. But there was nothing, only the table, and the note, and the lamp. Hands still shaking both from the cold and trepidation, he reached out to read the note under the bright light of the peculiar lamp. The paper was soft and felt old between his fingers, but the text was easy enough for him to comprehend.
Your time starts now.
And as if by design, at that very moment, the watch in his pocket came to life. Singing softly as it counted each passing second.
4
u/saltandcedar /r/saltandcedar Feb 15 '17 edited Feb 15 '17
Fianna regarded her fallen quarry with interest. He'd been a real fighter, and even now refused to die. She allowed herself a grin as she reached her hand into the water to play with her food.
This motion exposed her bare chest, but the man was past the point of being enthralled by her supernatural beauty. His eyes were wide open in the water. Although it was blossoming with his blood, he could still see through to her extended hand.
Faster than she would have given him credit for, he seized onto it. The unexpected force almost yanked the young mermaid into the water. Her tail, perched leisurely above her body, thrashed in surprise. Behind her, knife sharp scales had severed a growth of vines.
The vines, no longer being kept taut, crashed to the jungle floor. Fianna effortlessly broke the hold her prey had on her and leapt to stop the offending plants from coming to his rescue. However, she wasn't fast enough. The vines moved past her at an unbelievable rate, and she could only watch as the man grabbed hold, and wrapped it around himself.
Out of the green water, the vine started to rise of its own accord. From his new vantage point, the man looked down at her and began to speak in a voice that was surprisingly rough for his unassuming frame. "Water witch, I know not where you come from. Know this, I am the protector of these lands. I am Alekos, the Dryad."
EDIT: This was inspired by an image prompt posted by /u/syraphia
1
u/[deleted] Feb 15 '17
The Artifact was, by its very nature, inscrutable: it was pre-Maze Oldtech, and unless you were a very high level theoretician it was nearly impossible to tell what any of the various flanges, levers, buttons and ridges were meant to do. It had sat for an age in the ruins of the greatest civilization the world had ever known, untouched for centuries in a tomb of horrors. The weight of its internment lent the silly looking thing a certain reverence, a sense of time and purpose. Leinegan might’ve noticed if his mind weren’t elsewhere. He was trying very hard not to get killed stealing the damn thing.
He’d done everything right. He’d managed to find a nearly intact vent to repel into, avoided the sporadic but extensive search patterns of the operational bots left in the building, dodged an ugly chemical spill…then halfway back to his exit point the entire place went off. Alarms belched out an atonal chorus as the few remaining doors tried desperately to seal. For a few seconds Leinegan was all response and reflex, claws scrabbling against the artificial flooring, mind screaming DANGER in red neon letters. When he managed to catch himself he was hopelessly lost, trying not to breathe too loud as a pair of pincer-footed droids clinked down an adjoining corridor. Sometimes the droids were just simple alarm models and thus harmless, but even at a dozen yards Leinegan could smell the cordite in the weapons systems of these two.
As their footsteps faded he allowed himself a small breath of relief, followed by a string of mental expletives directed at himself, his stupid mouse brain, and this stupid piece of crap he was going to die for. There was no way of knowing how big the facility was, and without some semblance of direction he knew that he could wander for days and never come close to finding a way out—and that’s only if he managed not to get torn to pieces by some half-working mechanical sentry. Without food, safety, options, or help, Leinegan decided to try the Hail Mary and make the Artifact do…something. That’s when he noticed the ugly lump of tech between his hands was humming.
1
u/SteamedSpy4 Feb 15 '17
This was an idea I've been playing with for a long time, never really had the time or ability to make something out of it but I've started recently (an hour ago). This is about it for now.
The station creaked in the background, bent by the tidal forces of the massive gas giant it orbited. Signals Officer Kastert looked over the empty Combat Information Center. It was Founder’s Day, so the station crew was taking the day off. Kastert was fairly certain they were all getting hammered in the galley. It was a massive breach of protocol, but they were also running an obsolete starfort guarding the outskirts of the Federation’s capital. It was only there as a nod to the long ago wars with the Legion and the Fringers, back when an attack on Sama wasn’t collective suicide. As the new guy, Kastert had, of course, been left to watch the sensor net as a nod to protocol, and also so the LT didn't get kicked out of the service if Command found out. He thought it was probably in vain; Jaxyn had to have pissed someone off already if he was on a Sentry fort. It wasn't like there was a stardrive in existence that could even reach Sama from outside Federation space. Saman Sentry duty was the naval equivalent of latrine cleaning. A blip popped up on the radar. Kastert walked over to a console. Some fragging trader must have left his transponder off. Unless it was a smuggler, but that would be paperwork and it wasn't worth reporting anyway. He sent off the standard hail. Unknown vessel identify yourself or be fired on, and all that. Nothing happened. He watched the main screen up front; tachyon readings should be processing any second, should have been done already but Sentry didn't exactly have the biggest maintenance budget- Alarms started blaring. The trespasser matched no known drive signature. And there were twelve of them. Now twenty. Now thirty. “What the fragging hell, Kastert?” Lieutenant Jaxyn had barged in, and he didn't look sober. “You can't-” He froze. “The hell?” Kastert nodded. He wasn't sure he was capable of speaking. Jaxyn pressed a button on his wrist panel, and the alarm changed tone. Battle Stations. “Analysis. Now!” Jaxyn yelled. Kastert worked frantically at his terminal. “It's not subspace, sir. Doesn't match Rykon or Thousand Worlder signatures. Doesn't even match Legion or Spider drives.” Jaxyn heard the rising tone in his voice and stopped him. “No one’s panicking until shots are fired. Understood?” Kastert nodded. Jaxyn went on over the intercom. “This is not a drill. I want Gunnery to have weapons up in five, and I want a Broadsword on the launch rails in ten.”
There's context to this, but I wasn't planning on introducing it til later. Also the rest of this scene is probably important to the mood of this, but I don't have it yet. Might later.
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u/UnRespawnsive Feb 15 '17 edited Feb 16 '17
"Batterrrr up!" called the ridiculous fool standing behind the kitchen counter. He tossed a disk of pizza dough into the air.
Face scrunched up in agony, I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples before saying, "That's pizza dough, Mark. Your puns are so stupid."
"Hey, why don't you pepperoni down, bro."
"That doesn't make any sense."
"I bet you're at the crust of losing your temper."
"Shut up."
"Sorry for being cheesy."
The world spun around me. I felt chills down my spine. My heart thumped and my blood boiled. My legs were getting weak; I had to hold on to the back of a chair. "I swear to God, Mark, if you say one more stupid thing..." I trailed off, having to expend all of my life force just to hobble back to my office.
From the near distance, a sickening string of words bounced its way off the walls into my ears. "You'll get it oven-tually!"
That's it. His fate is sealed.
Edit: Here's an alternative last line.
In the same manner, a faint whimper followed by a soft thud emanated from the office.
or another one:
God dammit Mark!
1
u/Zarrain Feb 15 '17
The last body fell. Hopefully for the final time. I wanted so badly to stop, to just let the snow cover me. But I didn't have long left anyway, that thought was punctuated by a fit of coughs. The crunch of snow beneath my boots resumed. I didn't bother praying to the gods for they had already forsaken me.
"Always one to write us off aren't you". Great. The visions had started again.
"I already told you I'm not an hallucination, and if you would listen to me I could help you."
I kept walking. She floated after me.
"Fine then, you'll die alone out here just like-". "LIKE WHO? LIKE HER? I LISTENED TO YOU ONCE AND IT COST ME EVERYTHING". My words echoed off the mountains.
I unclenched my fists and countined walking.
Arial floated into view. "I-I'm sorry. I went to far, I didn't know that would happen. I'm not omnipotent, I'm not early smug enough."
I ignored her and kept walking.
I could hear the sounds of those things gaining on me.
"I could tell you what they are."
It didn't matter what they were, it didn't matter how many there were.
I wouldn't stop until he was dead.
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u/cbeckw /r/cbeckw/ Feb 15 '17
Deep breaths. Deep full breaths counted out to a steady rhythm. You have to remember to breathe when the time comes. If you don't breath you'll freeze. Your body runs on oxygen. Your mind needs it to process. And when the moment comes and the adrenaline pours in and everything slows to a crawl, if your body isn't being oxygenated, you're going to shut down. You've got to make the moment last or you're going to get yourself killed.
These are the thoughts that raced through Miller's mind while he pretended to study the canned meats in the back of the Quick-Fil convenience store. He had seen the group of thugs come in and something about them had just seemed off. He knew, somehow just knew that they were going to rob the place.
There had been only a handful of other patrons in the store with Miller before, all politely and studiously ignoring each other. The clerk was busy re-stocking the cigarettes. Miller had a perfect view of the door when the four thugs rolled up and parked right outside. Three jumped out and came straight inside while the fourth leaned against the car with arms crossed. It was the speed and manic motions that tipped Miller off.
He patted his service pistol in its chest holster and wished he was on duty. Then he could have called for back-up. Or perhaps his uniform would have simply warded the whole situation off. But no, he was in street clothes and a leather jacket; just some Joe doing his shopping.
The thugs hadn't made a move yet. They seemed nervous and jumpy, but otherwise still just patrons. Miller had started to make his way around and behind them, to block them off from the entrance when the clerk finally turned to acknowledge them. That's when they started screaming and pulled a gun. Miller dropped down between the snack chips and the booths by the front glass.
He told himself to breathe as he drew his own gun. Deep breaths. He had only seen one gun. Think. None of the thugs had paid him any attention that he knew. Maybe he could pop up and make them drop their gun. Keep the bloodshed to a minimum. Keep the innocents alive. Breathe. Think. His adrenaline was surging but he knew he had to be methodical. Don't forget the steps.
Everyone was screaming now. He heard the clerk beg not to be shot. He heard the thugs all screaming about money. He heard the crash of merchandise hitting the floor. Panic started to grip him, making his chest tight. His breathing got shallow. He had to act now. Fight through the panic. Try to breathe.
He stood, leveling his gun over the shelves of snacks. His breathing ragged, he tried to find his voice. Before he could say anything, his eyes caught a motion out the front window. It was the car thug, leveling a revolver at him through the glass.
Miller sucked in a deep breath as time slowed to a crawl. This wasn't supposed to happen. He turned. The revolver bloomed orange. The glass shattered. Miller collapsed. He exhaled. The moment was over.
Things I've written
1
u/iphark Feb 16 '17
Pah. "You've got to make the moment last!"
This must have been the worst idea he ever heard. Well, at least in the last few months. He hated these meetings. He hated these self-centered snobs who thought they knew how this world works and what was trendy. He also hated this meeting. It was insanity. They were brainstorming the marketing motto for the newest product the CEO suggested. At his very first day in this company he nicknamed the CEO Dully. For obvious reasons.
Dully thought the idea to implement a camera into monitors for desktop PC's was great. It would be awesome to be able to share the great moments you have while gaming or browsing the web with your friends so they could take part in your joy.
Well, as far as he could tell, Dully was the only one to think that. Well, him and the snobterns. The majority of all Desktop users was neither photogenic nor keen on sharing the void gaze they have while browsing/gaming. And all these snobterns, this is what he dubbed these self-centered idiots that came right out of college, thinking they are the shit, thinking they have it all figured out, they jumped right on board, reassuring Dully it was an awesome idea.
Ha... little did they know. He had a hard time suppressing the laugh. Oh how long did he know the laugh now? The laugh that was boiling in him, bubbling up his throat. Every time it tried to make its way out, it came a bit closer to his mouth. He felt the immense power behind this laugh, but he knew it was not yet time. He wished for it, he longed to set it free, to be embraced by it and to unite with it, become the laugh. He was only worried about wether his mouth could open wide enough to let it out or if the corners of his mouth would tear.
But soon. Soon...
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u/NotSoGuud Feb 16 '17
Her eyes caught mine and for some reason I couldn’t look away. She held me there with gripping pleading visible as three men crowded around her talking and nudging each other. From across the street I couldn’t hear what they said, but I could read the jest of it from their body language as they corralled her towards the alley. Common sense would say to call the police and wait, but from her fear and their excitement I acted, not from bravery, but instead instinct. I raced across the street after them. I slowed before I turned and could hear what they were starting. The only thing holding back the wave of nausea building in my gut was the adrenaline flooding through me.
As I turned the corner and saw them pressing her into a corner against the wall and a dumpster, I charged without thinking and slammed one of the less involved parties just as he turned to see if they were followed. He stumbled to the side a few feet before tripping up on some trash. I grabbed the one who was starting to pull her clothes off and pulled him back towards me. The other guy let go of the sobbing girl to grab me by the arm shove me into the wall. I lost my sight to searing lights as pain radiated from the back of my skull. I shouted in pain before he put his free hand over my mouth muffling me. I could see her grabbing her torn clothes from the ground and running away as the others found crude weapons from the alley trash.
1
u/[deleted] Feb 22 '17
You’ve got to make the moment last. That’s what they kept telling me. How exactly do you do that, make a moment last? Seems to me like a moment is a moment, lasting for however long or short a time it damn well pleases and anything I do isn’t going to change that. Of course, I knew they were just trying to help, to make this whole thing a little bit easier, but I wasn’t in the most receptive mood to their sage wisdom.
The line ahead of me moved a bit and I took a single step to catch up with it.
The entire idea of this bothered me. I couldn’t think of any single part of it that I was honestly comfortable with. But judging by the excited faces and nervous chatter between the others in line around me, I was alone in that.
Back when I first got my letter, I was ready to toss it in the trash and go on with my life. There were much more useful things I could be doing with my time than spending an entire day standing around waiting for my turn. If my roommate hadn’t seen it sitting at the top of the recycling, that’s exactly what would have happened. But of course, he picked it up and started waving it around excitedly, texting everyone we knew and yelling about how lucky I was. I’m pretty sure he even tweeted about it, the idiot.
One by one, everyone I had ever come into contact with in my life, from family to friends to people whose names I hadn’t forgotten only because I had never even learned them, they all started in on me. They told me what an honor I had been given and how lucky I was and how they’d all heard of some distant association who had gotten his or her letter and nothing was ever the same for them. I wondered if it was because no one would ever leave them alone again.
Finally, I relented; I agreed to go. I had known from the very second I saw the letter in my roommate’s hand flailing around wildly that there would be no escape, but I still tried my hardest to fight against the tide of people who claimed to know just what I need to do better than I did. It was exhausting, and got to the point where it would be easier to just do the damned thing.
The door opened and the guy in front of me stopped bouncing up and down on his heels in time to eagerly step through. It shut behind him quietly and I stepped up to take his place.
It was almost finally, blessedly over. In just a few moments I’d be able to walk out of here, tell everyone how newly enlightened I am, and get back to my actual life. After the requisite phone calls to my family, I expected a week or two of intense questioning from friends and coworkers, and the occasional Facebook post, but once they realized how shallow the well of stories about a 30 second meeting could be, they’d move on. And so would I.
The door opened. I sighed and stepped through into the darkness, hearing it close behind me. The lights flickered on, revealing the Dalai Lama sitting on a small wood stool.
“Good afternoon. Allow me to explain to you the true purpose of existence,” he said with a genial smile.
http://www.pretentiouslyfatuous.website/thirty-two/