Creative Writing, Flash Fiction

The Swamp Game

SwampWe are all wading our way through life. It is a swamp where we are mostly sticky, but some parts are wet and some parts are deep. The waters are muddied so that we can’t see the dangers beneath but we are to keep careful on our way. There are some things, as such, that will always remain a mystery.

There are those that have learned to travel in the trees. It’s a struggle at first, but it can be done. Although many fail because they don’t really believe in their ability, or the strength of the trees.

Others have found dry ground, but they are scarce. When there is communication between them and everyone else they say their ultimate hope is for everyone to share a part in the trek on dry ground. It is easier, so they believe. It is safer, so they believe. The dangers on dry ground are as real as the dangers in the swamp. There are all sorts of wild, poisonous fruits.

There are some that create and build things, to help them along the muddied waters. But there is a wretched pain that comes with the knowledge that love is lost because things have taken its place. The danger for this group of ones is not the unknown under the muddied waters, nor is it the stinging nettles omnipresent on dry ground; it is all of the ones, who say all for one but mean one by one, will I fight to be freed.
We are all destined for the same place, and we know it.

There is one game and many players. Amatuers. There is no option to pass or to quit, and no matter how long you’ve been playing you’re never going to get it.

Moving forwards at different paces, or backwards – it’s all the same.


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