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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

The precipice


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I stand on the precipice. The wind blows my hair into a soft halo. I feel a shiver of cold. When I look over the edge I see the drop far below. Trees and houses, all minute. The cold penetrates my heart mind and soul as tears blur my vision. Will you push me over that edge?

 

I know I will survive the fall, pick myself up carefully like a fragile doll. Walk away through the grey valley pointing my toes, judging each step as precisely as possible. But the path will be new, unfamiliar and lonely.

 

You stand behind me, dithering, not knowing whether to push me of take my hand and bring me away from the edge. You wait for a sign of what action you should take. Can you help me along the rocky path behind us or is it too arduous to retrace our steps?

 

I know that even on our path together there will be large obstacles. Through the forest one of us may become lost and meet new companions. There will be large boulders that we can only climb together. There will be times when one of us may be too frightened to continue. We both know the risk.

 

Is it easier to give up now? Should you push me over the edge and take an easier path that only you can traverse? I turn away from the precipice, look at you with pleading eyes. My soul clearly speaks to yours ‘please don’t push me’.

 

There is a strong fire within, a comfortingly fierce courage and trust that together we can take the harder path and that we will succeed. But at the same time I see you quail under the difficulties ahead. Your determination wants to fail you.

 

I turn away again to look over the edge. I shut my eyes and wait for your touch. Your choice. I place my trust in your hands and breath deeply. I feel the brush of your hand upon me and know that you have decided.

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I like this piece, mindofvividcolours. :-) It's been a while since I've seen an abstract approach to prose posted in the Assembly Room, and this little story was quite refreshing. I particularly like the ending of the story, as I think the ambivalent image of the hand brushing against the narrator leaves the reader in suspense and conveys the feelings of the narrator in the process. The cliff metaphor was also executed quite nicely throughout, especially with the narrator's knowledge that she'll survive the fall if she's pushed... I found that quite original. I think that this piece is at its best when it fully treats the situation as a metaphor, as some of the more direct moments that deal with emotions didn't grab me quite as much ("Your determinations wants to fail you" being an example).

 

Anyways, this is nicely done mindofvividcolours. :-) Thanks for sharing it.

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The worst thing that can happen to a piece like this, here, is that it's not read. Which is what will happen for sure if it is not posted, so it's better not to worry and just post.

 

As for the piece itself, I've always liked dense, ambiguous text like this. There's something intriguing in the economy of language, every few sketched words opening up to show a whole new picture ... or a mirage.

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