Beginning Again and Spark Word: Prophecy

So I said to myself I would write more, and come the end of 2012 I looked back and saw I had written nothing. At all. Which disappointed me. So I pledged this year to actually get into a habit of writing, and before the naysayers cry that my first post comes in February, I’ve actually made some progress! Me and Ellie Watts have been hashing out an outline for a DnD based musical which should hopefully be great. It’s mostly her music that has so far been kicking ass so all I need to do is string them together. Alas, this post is not to document the musical, that will likely come later, this is my wrist writing task from my Writer’s Block book. Let’s see how it goes!

Spark Word: Prophecy

Many people believe that prophecies exist, and of those people almost all believe prophecies to be important. Well, perhaps important is too vague of a word to use. More, people believe that extraordinary events must transpire in order to be classed as a prophecy. After all, prophecies are received and passed on like a great story and all great stories have a grand feel to them. The prophecy of the Christ child returning. The prophecy of the world coming to an end. Moreover, a prophecy MUST come true, or the spectacular events of them will surely not occur and we will have to go back to the regular. I’ll admit right now that, without any particularly strong religious beliefs, if someone was about to fulfil the prophecy of Christ being reborn I would at least keep a close eye on the fellow, because the anticipated result is so much more interesting than the if the whole thing is a sham.

The truth is that we all have our parts in our own prophecies. Prophecies are just the destinies that people feel are more important (there’s that word again) than others. So, when Michael started to hear these prophecies at the tender age of 10, he had no idea which to prioritise above the others. Was one man’s acquisition of his rival’s company more important than where a young woman went off to college? All Michael knew was that there were so, so many people in the world, each their part to play in some large or small way and he could feel them all at the same time. He tried to tell some of them. He told his friend to walk a different way home, past the house of girl who just started school with them, but he was told it didn’t matter. He told his neighbours not to give up on their marriage but he was chastised and told to mind his own business. He told his mother to call in sick for work, to take a holiday, anything to keep her in the house on the day a drunk driver lost control and slid across a sidewalk. He tried to help so many, but just as many believed what Michael’s teacher did, that children were to be seen and not heard.

Michael grew up and slowly learnt the way people worked. That people believed what they wanted to and largely kept to themselves. They didn’t want any intrusion or persuasion, certainly not from a stranger on the street. The only person that could coax them into change from was a man with a couch, and leather bound books and a medical degree on the wall. So, that’s what Michael became, and he helped a great many people, but still at the back of his mind there were those who did not listen, and the world they left behind. And this filled Michael with great sadness.

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