50/52 (Begins)

At the end there are flash backs. But what comes after the jump? Only to flash forward. How thrilling it must be to jump, to leap into the next. My life begins here, in flash forward. To accelerate into the unknown, making the unknown quite known for it is now the new home to which you have arrived.

So it began for I.

The world is but a stage, and my entire life is but a farce. Is that how the quote goes? For perhaps it should. For perchance that is mine, to a tee.

We are each the lead in a story. The center of our own universe. But that does not mean the star understands the boundaries of the cosmos anymore than the freckle newly discovered upon one’s leg, or the hair upon one’s soon to be tweezed disgrace. And that is rightfully funny, if you’ve a sense of humor about these sorts of things.

And what is fantastic about all of this? This life force? This universe of you and I? That we exist together, knowing very little about one another, in truth, for we cannot take the entire history of ourselves and compute it ourselves, let alone download it for the other to view. No, no. This universe, this life is so interesting because of that exact nature, the mystery of it all. For so very little truly makes sense, when you truly think about it.

But one thing I know for certain: who I am. Or… as defined by who I was rather.

Me: a boy of three, give or take a livelihood. For this is truthfully dependent upon your belief in an afterlife, or the life before it.

I began in death. I awoke at three in the afternoon, three years old, in a shell much smaller than the previous one I’d accompanied. A fallen king, in the jungle. A room wallpapered by lions, tigers, and snakes, everywhere. Many snakes running around a room that largely felt like a jail cell, for I had been consumed by these in the moments before my flash forward.

It had been only milliseconds, but from the timeline now gathered, due to advancements in technology, I must presume it was approximately 1,500 years ago. Quite a flash forward, to say the least. And in its final moments, I am gifted the memory of these: falling.

I, a King, marked with long hair, and noble crown, am weaker than needed to lead my people. This, I feel later in life, and know to be true based on my quick and PITiful demise. You will understand the marks of this “comedy” momentarily. ¬†As I walk, confidently, I am tripped by faults of my own footwork (though often it feels upon reflection that I was indeed pushed as well), into the bouts of a pit. A belly of earth that is damp, and dark. There, I am met by a moving earth. An earth that writhes of life, for this pit is filled with snakes. And they take my life. Nibble by nibble and chomp by chomp, these creatures devour my crown fallen, my hair until it is gone. Every bit of me gone. I am eaten alive by snakes and–

Flash forward a mere 1,500 years, at a record 1.5 seconds time.

–I awake to a room filled with zoo wallpaper, with many snakes plastered upon each and every wall. My bed is red metal. My hands are truthfully small. And my hair, a still blonde pride and joy, is freshly cut into a bowl shape, as is the ridiculous yet popular style now.

A fallen king begins anew. What will he get up to? Only time will tell. But I have a feeling this will be a long and strenuous crawl. There will be no flash forward, as he moves at a glacier pace, aging each and every day, humbly remembering that he is no longer a king, after all. He is but a child. Three. And this is his second chance at doing things right. At doing things well. If only he doesn’t let the snakes get to him again, perhaps, perchance he will be alright. But in the meantime, he will be very grateful to remove this wallpaper and to grow the hair into a muchly different style.

I know one thing for certain: who I was. The question in this whole fantastical, farce of fallen life is… what will I become? Is this story my true past, or is it the fast forward of impending danger of what I could become?

In any regard, a warning advised, for the past must be learned from. I write upon my left over wallpaper, and stuff within the bottom red leg of that vibrant metal bed: Avoid the snakes, young fallen one. Do not trip up. And don’t forget to condition those luscious locks. Your life, your universe, depends on us.

Mysterious life, let us be more fantastic than a farce. Here’s to the now, this fresh start.

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