lauantai 3. syyskuuta 2011

A story about things in life that happened to someone. Chapter 1. What if I told you that there`s no new stories to be told?

It was a chilly, little misty autumn/fall evening. It was dark. Dark in a way that it feels comfortable if you`re not afraid of the dark. Cirosso was taking his regular walk in the outside world, which usually lasts 2 hours. A few street lights were burning brightly, making Chrissos face look pale and smooth when he walked under any of them. When he breathed, he saw his breath, because you can see your breathing when it`s cold enough outside.


He had been inside his house all day once again, reading books, online articles and comics, like he usually does. Today he had read 3 articles about global warming being an evil plan conceived by jellyfish, from the internet. He had also read "Angels and Demons", and the second book of Transmetropolitan-trade paper backs.

He walked to a nearby park, where mosguitos, butterflys and moths were flying in circles. He saw a few bats snatch a few moths, and even if he thought it to be sad, found it interesting.

He sat to a bench after having walked silently in the park for 3 minutes. He looked at his watch. It was 21:17. He sat in the bench, looking at the darkness surrounding him, and wonders that it almost kept in hiding. He sat very guietly, smiling a subttle smile. He thinked: I`ll sit here for a while and then head home." I`ll get there by 22:00 I guess. That is, if I take a tram. Yes...I guess I will."

It didn`t take long, that she walked to the bench, and sat down. A woman, that is. She was about 19 years old, in human years. She had lightly brown hair which barely covered her ears, and a mole in her cheek that she had hopelessly tryed to hide. She wasn`t all that tall, maybe as little as an average twelve year old girl, and had gained a few pounds of weight. She had a crescent moon earring in her right ear, and was dressed to a very fine dress. She had probably been in the party that Chrisso saw in the distance. Probably a wedding, or something like that. She sat to the bench, and Chrisso noticed it. She didn`t say anything, because normally people don`t. Not to strangers. Chrisso didn`t say anything either. "What if I told you that there`s no new stories to be told?" She said, suddenly. Chrisso was a little startled of this, and stared at the woman for a few seconds, before remembering that many think it`s not polite. "Umh...I don`t think so." Was the only thing that he could think to say at the moment.

Then the conversation really started.
"well I do." She started.
"Hum, what makes you think so?"
"Because we`re just recycling pieces from the old stories, and putting each of them to a "new" story. That`s why I think so. That there isn`t any new stories."
At this point Chrisso noticed that he was talking to a young woman that he didn`t know, and who wasn`t trying to hit him (not that there had been many in his lifetime that would`ve tryed that). It was like she talked to a philosopher collegue of her. But Chrisso wasn`t one. He decided not to care about all those things, and continued to talk to her.
"I see. Could you give me an example?"
"Yes I could, and I will." She smiled faintly, her teeth showing underneath the upper lip.
"For example, The Loch ness monster. It has been a myth among humans for a really long time. And I`m sure that you know that it has been used many times in the popular culture. That way, Nessie isn`t all that fascinating anymore."
"Yes it is. The stories that have it might be a little boring, but Nessie`s still interesting if you think about its mystery in this world. You know, if you actually go to Loch Ness`s lake, and wonder if it`s really there."
"Humh. Okay, not a good example. But I`ll think of another one. Just wait a second."
Chrisso waited, and wondered how concentrated this pretty woman looked. She intrigued him, and he wondered if he could her again someday. "After all, I do like girls."
"Now I know. What about this: In comics, there are plots that have been used too many times. You know, villain teaming up with a hero, timetravelling, a city is destroyded... They have been used too many times. Then they become boring, and lose the impact they use to had. And those have been taken from other stories. We recycle stories. They aren`t new anymore. They`re just old stories, made to think that they`re new."
"I don`t think so. Y`see, people still try to make new stories, even if they would have many same kind of elements."
"No they don`t. The storytellers try to cash in."
"No! Not most of them, at least."
"Yes they do."
They stared at eachother for a minute.
"Maybe we should just stop making stories, and read the ones that have already been told." She said.
"No, we shouldn`t. Also, we can`t. We make stories all the time. Even this conversation that we`re having is a story. Well, I mean that, we aren`t in a storybook or something like that*, but it`s still a story. Y`know, I`ve been reading this series, Unwritten, in what it is said that the world, even the universe actually, comprises of stories."
"And those stories are all the same. Just think of it. How many times has someone given birth? How many times has someone killed a person? How many times has some idiot said that people are idiots, and has seen proof of it? They are all stories that have all been told already. They`re always a little different, but they`re still pretty much the same. They aren`t new."
"You just talked yourself to a corner. You asked me if there are to be new stories. And just a few seconds ago, you indirectly said that there will be new stories to be told. Even if they would all be quite same."
She stared at him for four seconds. Then she said...
"Ok then. But the thing is, what I meant to ask, was if there will be new, original stories to be told. And you talked yourself to a corner, too. You said, indirectly, that there will not be no more original stories to be told. You, yourself said that."
Chrisso stared at her for four seconds.
"You asked a different guestion from me, than you should`ve. If you would`ve asked me if there will be new, original stories to be told, I would`ve said no."
"Well okay then. I originally came up with that guestion about original stories, but then I got distracted. That`s why, I forgot what I was supposed to ask. Then I tried to remember what I wanted to ask from you, and remembered most of the question. Do you understand?"
"You planned to ask me a question from me?"
"Not from you, actually. More like, from someone who I would notice. And I noticed you."
"Why did you want to ask something like that from someone that you`d notice?"
"It`s my hobby, sort of. I like to talk to strangers. Suprise them. People don`t except strangers to ask them anything. But when a stranger does, they usually talk to this stranger. Just believe it."
"Ok, I will."
There was a moment of silence. During that silence, a fly landed on Chrissos hand, that had no glove (actually, both of his hands were gloveless at the moment). He lifted his hand a little bit, and the fly flew to his knee. Chrisso gave up, and said to the woman:
"Could I meet you again?"
She looked a bit suprised.
"Well, eh, no."
"Why? Or wait, let me guess. You want me to stay as stranger, don`t you."
"Well, yes." She said. Smiling.
Chrisso looked at his shoes.
"Okay then" He said with a dissapointed tone.
" But I guess that I`ll meet enough strangers in my time anyway." Her smile had widened to something that seemed childishly joyous.
"When could we meet, then?" Chrisso asked, while a faint smile climbed to his mouths corners.
"The day after tomorrow suits me. I have relatives paying me a visit tomorrow, y` see. But they`ll be on their way in the evening already. To another town."
"Day after tomorrow is good for me, too."
"Where will we go?"
"Where would you wanna go?"
"I think that we could think about it then. We`ll just have to go this same place. Same bench. Then we`ll think of something."
"Well, I`m not really that much of a guy who seizes the moment, but okay."
"Hmmh, at 17:00?"
"Okay."
Chrisso looked at his knee again. The fly wasn`t there anymore.
"My name`s Toriayna." She said, suddenly.
"Mine is Chrisso." He said, a little embarassedly, `cause he hadn`t said his name before.
"See ya." Toriayana smiled, stood up from the bench, and walked away.
"Yeah. You too." Chrisso watched her descend  to the night for 57, 98 seconds, until he walked away, also.

Chrisso was back home, at 22:34. The tram that he had took, was probably one of the last ones of the night. Or maybe it wasn`t. Chrisso didn`t actually care about it that much.
He ate a cucumber bread (he loves cucumbers), brushed his teeth, read a little bit of Promethea, and goed to sleep. He thought about Toriayna for a while, then he thought about Promethea, then if Alan Moore actually is a grumpy old man, and various other things. He saw a nightmare in which a panda tryed to crush him, and locusts tryed to teach him about algorhytms. Needless to say, Chrisso didn`t learn anything about them, no matter how much the locusts tryed.

*Actually, Chrisso was wrong, as you can understand if you read this whole story. Or most of it. But he wasn`t wrong either. They aren`t just characters in a story. They actually live in some universe. But then again, what wouldn`t?

End of chapter 1.
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What happened to me the other day.
On 31. 8. 2011 I saw a white and black cat near the edge of the woods in the city. I don`t know if the cats family didn`t care about she/he anymore, and she was left out in the outside world. That would make him/her a summercat. Maybe the cat was just hunting nearby the house of the person or persons house with who this cat lives with. I do not know.



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