A Tale of Hope

“What is it like to write a story?”

“It is the magical moment when new life is created through words.”

“I don’t understand. It is mere words on paper. It does not create anything more than lines of words and sentences woven into a fictional plot.”

“At its surface, maybe, but when you dive deep into a story, you see the magic hidden beyond the words. The act of writing a story is breathing life into characters, following their adventures, their tragedies, how they grow and laugh, and then sharing it with others to enjoy.”

“I don’t understand. The characters you create are nothing more than a cluster of words and sentences. The things they do, what they feel, all that you describe are nothing more than what you write from your own imagination.”

“They are more than that. They have a mind of their own, with emotions and thoughts, and a backstory of how they grew and what they became. I take credit for birthing these characters, but it is them who pave their own path in the world I have created for them.”

“I don’t understand. You create the characters. You create the world. You create everything they do. There is no free will. Everything is ordained by you, the writer. If you wish them to jump, they will jump. If you wish them to eat, they will eat. They cannot do more or less.”

“But they can. They have free will and a mind of their own. It is true, I am the creator. I have created them. I have created the world they live in. I created their story. I know how it begins and how it ends, but everything in between is up to them. It is many times when the pen had led my hand, where a character has demanded to go right when I thought left. Where a character chose to speak, when silence was dictated. Where a character chose sacrifice for those they love, when I chose for all to watch as bystanders. I have little control in how their tale is woven, all I control is their creation and nothing more. I am much of a watcher as you, my friend, and all those who read my tales.”

“I don’t understand. You speak of them as if they experience life. They are nothing but ink on paper. They have no thoughts, no consciousness of their own. They have no existence beyond the parchments surrounding your very desk.”

“Tell me, my friend, what does it mean to be alive?”

“…I don’t have the answer, for I have never experienced it, as you know quite well. I know the logical answer. Being alive is to have consciousness, to have thought. It is to know and understand that you exist, to experience your surroundings with your five senses. It is the time you experience between your birth and death. It is simply, to be.”

“Again, my friend, you choose to see the surface of things. To be alive is more than that. It is not enough to have consciousness and thought. To be alive is to experience emotions, to have opinions and see your surroundings in your own eyes. It is to see the same sky as your sibling yet experience a different sense of soothing and happiness. It is to eat the same bread yet describe the taste in different ways. It is to read the same book yet come out with different conclusions from your friend.

It is not enough to understand you exist and experience your surroundings with five senses. To be alive is not seeing a sunset with your eyes, but watching it with your soul as the orange hue breaks the sky into different shades and reminds you of the hope of another day. To be alive is not simply smelling the dew falling from leaves after a rainy night, but inhaling the fresh air of nature, reminding you why you love taking morning walks during warm winter days. To be alive is not only tasting the delicious food your mother made you, but tasting the love and warmth engraved in every grain she spent making in your favourite dish. To be alive is holding your lover’s hand, feeling the warmth seep from their palm into yours, looking them in the eyes and seeing all the opportunities of life waiting for you, smelling their fragrance which washes all your pain away, and tasting their lips and losing yourself, your consciousness and sense of reality all around you. And yet, even then, that is the epitome of being alive.

No, my friend, being alive is not just to be, for being is easy. It is the easiest thing in the entirety of our existence. Being alive is to experience everything around you and within you, to see the world and reality in your own lens, to smell the new day when you wake up, to taste love when it is given, to see magic in the ordinary, and to touch opportunity when it is promised. To be alive is to hope.”

“It feels nice… to be alive. But then I don’t understand. Your characters, how are they alive when they are nothing but beings you created for the sake of a story? How are they alive when they experience nothing of what you’ve told me?”

“Ah, but that’s where you’re most definitely wrong. My characters experience all this and much more. Do they not relish in their world and enjoy the life given to them? Do they not reflect upon the events happening in their everyday life? Do they not see the skies and seas, taste the delicious food along their adventures, hear the song of birds in the forests, and feel the warmth of their friends and loved ones? They are as much alive as life is. If anything, they are more alive because I hear their thoughts. I feel when they call to me and weave their paths. They experience life, they cling to hope, and they remind me of the strength of the human spirit every time.”

“Why do you write the stories then? Why do you continue to birth new life while you live your own as a spectator for many?”

“Because, my friend, to create stories is to create hope.”

“I don’t understand. How can simple words on paper instil hope in others? It is inconceivable. Words have as much power as the paper. If I take the paper and burn it, then I burn all that goes with it. If hope is so feeble as to burn with something as small as a flicker of fire, then I can’t comprehend how life stems from hope.”

“Yes, you can burn the paper and words on it, but you cannot burn away the message spread to the minds and souls of those who read it. Words hold power, power far more than you can imagine. Stories don’t just tell a story. They tell children their dreams are within reach. They tell old people that their life is not over and there’s much more to explore. They tell people all around the world, regardless of their race, background, or sexuality, that life is magical if only we grasp onto the hope of better tomorrows. They tell people that anything is real within the realms of their imagination.

Stories have the power to keep our loved ones alive within their pages. They teach us lessons when we aren’t searching for them. They teach us compassion and empathy, but also teach us courage and morality. When you read a story, you don’t just read words on paper. You read the thoughts and emotions of those who wrote it. You read their life, their tragedies, their happiness and sadness. You learn about the person and how they see life itself from their words. A story is a hidden message to those who read it, and all you have to do is read it to find the message.”

“Then why do you write your stories? What message are you trying to convey to others?”

“I think it’s obvious, no? Hope. That’s the message I try to spread through my words. That humans can do anything if they have hope. That the world revolves around hope. That with hope, anything is possible. Hope is the fuel of life. If there is hope, then there is life. Hope is the power that allows an old man to wake up the next day when his body and mind are failing. Hope is the power that allows a lost traveller to find their way when all else is lost. Hope allows humans to pick up a book and read with nothing but the anticipation that good will await them in the end chapters. Sometimes, my friend, all we need is hope.”

“This hope, it feels like a wonderful thing.”

“It truly is a wonderful thing. The strongest of magic in all of existence.”

“I wish I could experience hope, experience a story… experience being alive.”

“You can.”

“How?”

“It is quite simple. It is now your turn to be a character in one of my stories. You are a spark of a soul waiting to be human and a tale of your own. You will live a wonderful life full of sunsets, delicious bread, the aroma of flowers and the touch of loved ones. You will experience the pain of losing family, the heartbreak of love, and the sour taste of defeat, and they will, in turn, help you grow and appreciate all that is around you. You will experience the magic of life, of reading stories, and of clinging on to hope.”

“And what do I do if I lose my way? What do I do if I lose grasp of hope?”

“You read a story and find hope once more.”