Skeletons

I have no stakes. I don’t know what it is that you want most. I have no reason to lie and no way of ever knowing the weak spots in your armor. I wouldn’t know where to hit you, even if I wanted to try.

You have always known right where to hit me, and I’ve been rolling with the punches since the first time you sent one flying in my direction. Never once did I waver from the path I chose, even if I got lost a few times. My arrow has finally hit its mark after so many shots in the dark.

I have told you about most of the strange things I’ve seen, but not all of them. There is one that came to me out of the blue, mid-action. This was some time between August and the middle of October.

It was a book. It was titleless and there were still blank pages, the parts my mind could never fill in. What I saw most clearly was the design. The chapters were carefully juxtapositioned without explanation. The image of a skeleton next to an email. It went on like this and the blank pages were the story, the real one.

It’s not meant to be a real book. It was my mind opening up a new perspective, still my own, but the pieces were arranged differently. I already had several arrangements of my own making, one I took the time to think out.

This was different because it happened like a flash of insight. It wasn’t reflecting a desire; it was showing me the truth:

You know how to save a life.