Unfinished Stories
I won’t find peace when I die. It’ll be just like when I lay down at night and images of unfinished business swirl through my head. I meant to find the heart-shaped cookie cutter but got distracted; I forgot to put the straight-edged screwdriver back in the toolbox. Only when I die, it’ll be incomplete writing projects that haunt me.
Ole Joe with the eye patch and crutches sits on the sidewalk, bumming spare change and wondering when he can go home. A woman stands endlessly at a kitchen sink washing dishes and wondering if that’s all there is to life. Two children ride their bikes in a blistering New Mexico sun, wondering if night will ever arrive. A broken man weeps in a forgotten document file, waiting to learn if his woman will ever return.
Maybe lost souls in our real world are characters in Someone’s incomplete stories. The characters are mired in conflict until the Author writes His resolution. He moves from story to story writing a thousand words here, revising a paragraph there, and we each progress. Some folks move forward by leaps and bounds when the Muse stirs the Author and He pounds out two inspired chapters.
So I beg you, Dear Writer, seek out your abandoned characters. Resolve their conflicts. Even lovemaking can be an endless Hell.
(c) January 22, 2005 Clara Chandler
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