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Eh... this is a rather abstract story I've recently written... Enjoy! redface
Useless: The Letter ‘Q’
There’s something interesting about the letter A. It considers itself to be the pinnacle, the zenith of all the characters of the Alphabet, as if it is the most important simply because it comes first. B tends to wander the vocabulary, a lonely creature in existence that stabilizes the rest of us. Then there is one of the wild cards, the character with a seemingly smooth curve at first glance, but is actually capable of a sharp, cutting sound; yet versatile, a character that can change its sound when other characters are close to it; C is something of a chameleon, changing itself for all the rest of the alphabet. D is a constant character, its sound the same: harsh and proud; D trusts no one, never changing, even when begged by all other characters. Then there are E, I, and O, who, along with A, are the most influential characters in the Repertoire. Finally, there is U. U stands proudly, its entire shape depicting a warm smile, inviting all the letters of the repertoire to its welcoming grin. Even Z, the most spiteful and jealous of all the other characters in the Alphabet, is lured into the inviting personality of the letter U.
Just as all the others, I have been ensnared by the enigma that is U. I, the shiest, the least compatible of the entire Alphabet, find myself basking in U’s warm light, able to mingle with the others in its smiling sunshine. When U is near, I feel to be important, a mysterious character within the Repertoire; when U stands close, I am powerful and impacting. Otherwise, I roam alone, scouring the murkiest, most desolate crevices of our home: the Repertoire. The Repertoire is neither black nor white, nor any color that can be defined. It is a gray space that lies within the confinement of gray matter; it is the land at the very edge of thought, in the fingertips of the writer, and at the very tip of the reader’s tongue. The Repertoire is where we, the Alphabet, reside, waiting each for our permanent and temporary escape—permanent in that our imprint, our memory will be forever present and remembered on crisp paper; temporary in that our essence, what makes us remembered, will always return to the confinement of the Repertoire.
And yet we wait lifetimes for our split second of freedom.
It is in the cloudiest and most unremarkable portion of the Repertoire that I venture, basking in solitude and burning with loneliness; so jaded and used to the feeling, yet so worn down by it. I see, as if in a haze, Z and X pass me by. They do not reach out to me; I do not reach out to them. To each other, we are both invisible. Rarely are we put in the same words—rarely are we not at least letters apart. X follows Z towards more emptiness in the Repertoire, forever loyal. I skulk further through the abyss, not quite awake, but not quite asleep.
Time, if it exists within the Repertoire, passes, and I am called from its hazy, monotonous state, for my purpose.
Letters, or characters in the alphabet, are strung together to form words, every few letters representing a different meaning, a piece of a puzzle. These pieces are fit together to form words. These words are arranged to form sentences; these sentences forge paragraphs; these paragraphs make pages; those pages piece together a story. Innumerable letters strung together, creating stories, statements, documents, wills, Bibles, letters of love, letters of hate. Characters of an alphabet, blotches of ink, create history, lift spirits to soaring heights, and crush people into the ground. I am one of those twenty-six characters that have defined on paper what s right and what is wrong. I am Q.
I join the other letters in a cluster, wondering who would be chosen. T, a towering, hulking figure—another wildcard—is the first to Ascend to physical manifestation. R, A, and N are next, and to my surprise, me! For once I joined others, ignoring the jealous aura emanating from the rest of the Alphabet. Giddiness rises within me, to become a word; rarely have I been seen as useful, or as competent. I am pulled toward a distant light, the only true physical form in the midst of nothingness; even we, letters in the Repertoire, are only ideas fabricated by the minds of higher powers. Excitement from within increases tenfold as the brightness of U follows in my trail to Ascension. I split my attention between the half-second of Ascension, and the letter U that follows me into the short-lived brightness of reality. We are pushed forward once more, by whatever unseen, unknown force that drives us to freedom, while simultaneously imprisoning us in the Repertoire. We near the source of the light. Apprehension and excitement build within me, as the last moments before Ascension slip away beneath me.
And then there is light.
There is color.
There is life;
And there is memory.
I bask only for a moment in Consciousness, enough time to watch the imprint of my soul be pressed, black and blotchy, onto crinkly yellow paper. The color then swiftly darts into the distance, as if it is being sucked away. My job, for the timeless time being, here back in the Repertoire, is temporarily finished. I am engulfed yet again by the nothingness, the absence of reality. Here in the Repertoire, anything is possible; anything can happen. Yet nothing does.
It is then that my closest friend, U, approaches, and simply stays near, its ever-constant curve of a smile softened into a pensive grin. There, we simply exist together; nothing needs to be communicated. Nothing needs to be done or accomplished. I enjoy the almost-warmth, the never-quite- light that gives me so much hope. My discontentment and my unhappiness are squelched by the presence of my closest and only friend.
U is beckoned by T, R, and the vowels. U, a friend to all, turns away and joins the small group. As the empty echo of the letters fading away resounds until it fades itself, and quiet surrounds the murky nothingness around me. I am alone, a tiny half-existence to U, while it remains the world to me.
And so I will wait endless forevers to escape the Repertoire; and I will wait the same expanse of time for U.
And here I stay.
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