A quick response to this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt, a quirky, multi-faceted, and wonderfully open collective of writers from all over the globe riffing their words to an image – a weekly task I am thankful for, and company I admire. So, from the midst of this holiday week in N. America, something:
Mom is right. It is hard to deny that something points a clear direction, unambiguously, and difficult to argue. But for reasons I’m at pains to reveal or explain, I am uneasy. Seriously, I couldn’t ask for a more definite sign – but is clarity everything? I mean, what about signals from below? Like how I feel? Or that strange uninterpretable “intuitive” stuff? Something isn’t right. As if I were standing at an intersection without a crossroad, a highway with no exits, opened out before me, shining bright. And yet. I have misgivings, doubts. Troubling the obvious. Are all exceptions exhausted? Every option foreclosed? Pressure is on, expectations real – I’ll be a laughing idiot to choose otherwise. And yet. And yet. I have the feeling it will end in a horrible guffaw.
N Filbert 2012