We Never Speak Directly

Imagine a man who can never speak directly about anything and it spreads to every person he crosses. For example: when he says his father was cruel what he means is the man who raised him. What he says is true. But the details are not. And he's cursed with this his whole life which can be either funny, tragic, sad, or nasty. This man has walked in many shoes. He has abilities people only dream of or haven't yet imagined. He's a man of the stars. He lives with the stars. He is a kind of Star.

Right now he's plotting his next move, as usual. He never fails once he decides he wants something. He has ways of making his own destiny come true. Right now...he's sitting somewhere quietly, and the room is dim. He feels trapped and out of place there. I feel bad for him, because he has a life that should be the most celebrated, and yet he will only be remembered long after his death and not always positively. People don't understand him. He's made of myth and legend.

So as I was saying everyone who comes close to him is infected. You cannot speak directly anymore. You are cursed too. And so our lives spin into a much more layered experience. A richer one, with depths you never knew, existing like crevasses below the earth's crust. Cities built under cities decades ago that no one knows about. He is an ancient alien from an extinct race and he's repopulated the earth with his dna. At this moment he has over half the earth's population in his gene pool. He wins. He won. You'll find out later.


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