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By Jon Date: 2013 Dec 23 Comment on this Work [[2013.12.23.19.39.26451]] |
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When I was in grade school I read this short story about a teenage girl who was kidnapped and thrown into a dark basement. All she had on her was a typewriter and some paper, and she used the typewriter to chronicle her ordeal in the darkness. I can't remember the name of the story or the author. I can't even remember the main characters name, but I do remember her being trapped in complete darkness with nothing but a typewriter. The scariest part of the story to me wasn't her being kidnapped and taken from her family. The scariest part to me was what if there was no ink in her typewriter? What if she was typing blank page after blank page and no one would be able to read what happened to her? She's in the dark and she can't see what she's typing, she just has to believe her words are being printed onto the paper. Sometimes when I write to you that's how I feel. I could be writing to you for nothing -- you can't read it because you no longer exist. If I knew with complete certainty that you couldn't read this then would I still be doing it? After all, what would be the point then? I know that you would like me to say yes -- I would like for me to say that yes, I would. I'm not quite so sure myself. After all these years I've never bothered looking up that short story again. Nowadays, anyone can find the answer to nearly anything in a few minutes on the internet. I suppose I like the mystery. I like the fact that it's a vague memory, it somehow makes it more important -- the fact I can't recall every important detail of the story. The fact that I won't ever be able to recall the name of the story or the author unless I searched for it. Some things are better as a mystery or a vague memory. So, maybe that's my answer. One more blank page then. |