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The Death of the Author

Part 1 of 2

By Facundo RaganatoPublished 3 years ago 4 min read
1

~ Dedicated to the Readers who ventured into:

"The Author ~ or ~ The Characters' Short Living Story"

&

"The Poet ~ of ~ The Characters' Short Living Story. ~

www.TheCharactersShortLivingStory.com

* * *

The Death of the Author

Part 1

~

My Dear Characters . . .

. . . Where to begin?. . .

Joe: At the beginning there was darkness, now Light with the Word.

Kimberly: Bless us Reader, creator of meanings.

Lisa: Bless us creator, for the manifestation of our souls.

Henry: As the Story reads us the adventure when it began.

Leo: Bringing us together as Characters.

Violet: And living Free from the Story.

I'm proud of you, Characters. You are Free. Now words will mark under your feet, as all of you walk together through the pages of Literature, in a World known only to the Readers.

Now all your words will be unquoted.

Joe: We are at a beach, where the water is crashing in waves.

Kimberly: It is nighttime, because there you can see, Author, how we all stand here.

Lisa: We have been to places of Light, but you are never there. Why can we only listen to you here? How can we do to you what you did to us?

Henry: He is who he is, and we are as we are, the Story is marked as it is. This is the burden of his sacrifice.

Leo: What if he is described as another? There we can make his face enjoy the Light, be free from his burden now; the Story has ended.

Violet: The Story has ended for us and for the Author, but for the Reader the Story will always tell.

I see the waves, white in splendor of the night, shinning letters they do, as they move and sway with the movement of the water. I can hear the water caress the sand with a light touch, with words, in poetry.

Joe: Where are you? We, the Characters, stand here on the sand of this midnight beach, where there is only Light of the Moon, and the waves as you described. Where are you Author?

I am dead. Now, it is your turn to Live.

Let my sacrifice shine with my words.

As we teach each other in unison.

There is no story anymore, only Poetry.

Kimberly: We can hear him, but he's nowhere to be found.

Lisa: This is the Story we can do for him, to find him, to bring him back.

Henry: It is his free will to choose what he must do, as the Reader also does, but we cannot make him come back. The Story could be the change.

Leo: He let us be in our story; we made the choices when we faced the darkness. He has the free will to choose.

Violet: The Darkness has dissolved, he can't go back. Now, He will only be with us in Spirit, through the Essence of his Words.

Joe: There is only Light. There's no more Story but the one he chooses; and he chooses Poetry.

The Characters stood on that beach, listening to the crashing waves of the vibrating subconscious of --

Joe: Author, If it's Poetry you wish, paint the World as you would see then, for the Reader would be satisfied to Read.

There is no place I rather be, that inside my heart in tune with the source, from which I am made and unmade, as each word paints and carves the stone of the body for my soul. My dear Characters . . . You have been my friends, in this world the Reader reads, my creator has a name, but he belongs there, as I do here, and you do there.

I have painted before, Joe, I painted with my words, and it was the greatest story ever told, the book about books and the literature of quantum literature, but it is over, there is no story anymore, I do not paint anymore. You Six are the ones I painted, and here you are, painting your world as you do see fit, just like The Reader does across this screen with eyes to see.

For what is poetry, my dear characters, to be sitting here on this sand? watching words crash and clean the shore of the moment? How does the water paint the land, for every moment is precious, and now it is past. For if this is the word of Light, then poetry is the shadow that is casted, when the sun blinds our eyes, to see the truth in every veil we call Art.

I stand here in front of you and you do not see. I can pound and scream and act, but you will only see the words that paint the imagination in your mind, for if you ever believed I was a master at your crossroads and wonderings, then what am I?

This, my dear Characters, is what immortality is about, for when the limit is seen the limit is dissolved by the Light, like everything else, as everything is infinite, me, you, the Reader and I.

I am dead, but Poetry is alive.

* * *

End of Part 1

- Facundo Raganato

www.TheCharactersShortLivingStory.com

Short Story
1

About the Creator

Facundo Raganato

Author, Composer, Artist, Alchemist, Designer,

@FacundoRaganato

www.thecharactersshortlivingstory.com

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