Origins
So to begin this merry posting of an on going project I thought it would be best to show where it all came from and the reason it is becoming something bigger and better than anything I have previously written (it's certainly bigger anyway! after the first 25 pages I thought 'wow this even beats my dissertation and it's a hell of a lot more interesting' although that's only because I prefer fiction and the things that live in my head).
Initially 'Fear or Falling' was to be a short story, I think. It started from an image of a cliff and carried on from there, and my incessant wondering about the use of the word falling. Below is the very first imagining of the story that has grown. It is no longer in the current draft because it was a little too confusing, a concept that wasn't clearly defined in this excerpt. I still like it though and it may give a better idea of what is going through my mind as I make up my own world where everything happens because I, the all mighty writer, say it is so.
The young are led to the cliff top by rickety ladders and decrepit wooden stairs in the late afternoon. The old and the sick follow soon after, all before the fall of night. The adults filter their way up whenever their responsibilities allow. One by one the majority make the journey, those left behind are the workaholics, the insomniacs, the drugged and the fearful.
The timid young are dragged to the brink, forced over the edge by a push or a sugar coated lie. They are unable to fall on their own, beasts and demons await them on the other side. The older fearful think on what may lie at the bottom, what they will see whilst falling or the inability to return. The hopeful sit cross-legged, waiting on the edge, some patient and others not, they watch the sheep jump or wait for the herbal remedies to soothe their thoughts and passage. The fearful are forced past them, jealously wishing they had no fear, wishing that the sheep would jump for them.
It is very rare for a bottom to be found that two dreamers can agree upon, if any find a floor at all. None had ever questioned the creation or existence of the cliff or the tar pits that they surfaced in upon waking. It had been there every night since birth for the sleepers. Every fall would land them in a new surroundings relating in various ways to their waking hours and sometimes without any recognisable relation at all. It was a strange and disconcerting experience when two sleepers shared a landing place, they would see each other and turn away for fear of what may happen. To land in another’s dream was the utmost insult, a trespassing on the inner and private space. All were too well aware that once falling from the cliff, the physical was no longer a sure thing until waking. Intrusion into another’s dream had only occurred once or twice and on those occasions the perpetrator was exiled, sent away from the town to never be seen again. They were stricken from the town’s records and never spoken of. Children were taught this most vital rule when they began to speak and the townspeople would discourage the talk of what they had seen during their fall.
The physical excursion required for the act of waking was either a gruelling and tricky experience or the very easy snapping open of the eyes and wading through the tar as if it were merely water. To ensure the safety of all the inhabitants of the town, there were Wakers. Strongmen and women who served their town in the most respected role. Standing watch they would help the waking townspeople, pulling them free and serving them freshly brewed coffee to send them on their way. These Wakers would not sleep; injections of caffeine and other stimulants meant that they could only serve for five years a term; for fear of losing their minds, resulting in their eternal fall from the cliff.
Tied to the Wakers’ responsibility was the record of the townspeople, every day they would count the people as they woke, relaying any missing names to the mayor and the lawman who would then inform the families. It was well known that the old and the sick would at some point not return from their fall. Everyone eventually took the eternal fall, or at least that was how the townspeople saw it. The reality was much darker.
So there you have it, where it all came about. Happy Hanukkah!
Initially 'Fear or Falling' was to be a short story, I think. It started from an image of a cliff and carried on from there, and my incessant wondering about the use of the word falling. Below is the very first imagining of the story that has grown. It is no longer in the current draft because it was a little too confusing, a concept that wasn't clearly defined in this excerpt. I still like it though and it may give a better idea of what is going through my mind as I make up my own world where everything happens because I, the all mighty writer, say it is so.
The young are led to the cliff top by rickety ladders and decrepit wooden stairs in the late afternoon. The old and the sick follow soon after, all before the fall of night. The adults filter their way up whenever their responsibilities allow. One by one the majority make the journey, those left behind are the workaholics, the insomniacs, the drugged and the fearful.
The timid young are dragged to the brink, forced over the edge by a push or a sugar coated lie. They are unable to fall on their own, beasts and demons await them on the other side. The older fearful think on what may lie at the bottom, what they will see whilst falling or the inability to return. The hopeful sit cross-legged, waiting on the edge, some patient and others not, they watch the sheep jump or wait for the herbal remedies to soothe their thoughts and passage. The fearful are forced past them, jealously wishing they had no fear, wishing that the sheep would jump for them.
It is very rare for a bottom to be found that two dreamers can agree upon, if any find a floor at all. None had ever questioned the creation or existence of the cliff or the tar pits that they surfaced in upon waking. It had been there every night since birth for the sleepers. Every fall would land them in a new surroundings relating in various ways to their waking hours and sometimes without any recognisable relation at all. It was a strange and disconcerting experience when two sleepers shared a landing place, they would see each other and turn away for fear of what may happen. To land in another’s dream was the utmost insult, a trespassing on the inner and private space. All were too well aware that once falling from the cliff, the physical was no longer a sure thing until waking. Intrusion into another’s dream had only occurred once or twice and on those occasions the perpetrator was exiled, sent away from the town to never be seen again. They were stricken from the town’s records and never spoken of. Children were taught this most vital rule when they began to speak and the townspeople would discourage the talk of what they had seen during their fall.
The physical excursion required for the act of waking was either a gruelling and tricky experience or the very easy snapping open of the eyes and wading through the tar as if it were merely water. To ensure the safety of all the inhabitants of the town, there were Wakers. Strongmen and women who served their town in the most respected role. Standing watch they would help the waking townspeople, pulling them free and serving them freshly brewed coffee to send them on their way. These Wakers would not sleep; injections of caffeine and other stimulants meant that they could only serve for five years a term; for fear of losing their minds, resulting in their eternal fall from the cliff.
Tied to the Wakers’ responsibility was the record of the townspeople, every day they would count the people as they woke, relaying any missing names to the mayor and the lawman who would then inform the families. It was well known that the old and the sick would at some point not return from their fall. Everyone eventually took the eternal fall, or at least that was how the townspeople saw it. The reality was much darker.
So there you have it, where it all came about. Happy Hanukkah!
posted by Amber-Jean at
11:30
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