It would be a silly mistake to assume there was a predetermined blueprint as to where this opening sentence was leading. I arrogantly thought I could start typing without hesitation and magically fill this sheet of paper with a delightful tale. Upon completion, the well established enemy would be defeated, the damsel in distress would be lovingly in my arms and the planet rescued from certain doom. Alas, instead of setting the stage for an adventure of epic proportions, I have composed an beginning paragraph that pilots into a black hole.
As a comparison to this negligence, a few weeks back I was taking a jog around my island summer getaway retreat*. As I was running around the neighborhood, waving to the locals I noticed a new set of condominiums had sprouted. It appeared as I turned onto a busy highway that weaved through a nice mix of foliage. Despite the isolated location, the gated community appeared to cater towards an upscale clientele. The elite grooming of the shrubs made my hair look like it was cut by a butcher and although I couldn't confirm it was Batman because my blazing speed caused blurry vision, there was in the least an intimidating fellow dressed in black securing the gate. Finally, to tie everything together, a sidewalk was paved on the front perimeter of the property.
The curious part to me was that at the same point that the complex quit running parallel with the highway, subsequently so did the sidewalk. The abrupt end fizzled into an uncultivated meadow area where you'd expect to see an abandoned shopping cart or an elk. As I passed by on street level, I pondered the reasoning behind the recently assembled walkway. In my dream there was a backpacked traveler approaching the edge of the sidewalk scratching their head (or thickly grown beard) in disbelief. The question burning in their mind “Who would architect a passage with the intention of it dropping you off at nowhere?”
That’s how I feel right now, I foolishly followed my uncharted path assuming that it would escort me to the placid oasis but alas I marched right smack into the middle of dessert. That’s right, I arrived post main course and have no idea what the table is chatting about as they sip their after meal cordial and unloosen their belts for pie…….Wow the things I would do to cover up a typo. I see a similar outcome if I announced sports on the radio. I'd accidentally miscall a foul ball as a homerun during a baseball game and instead of retracting, just state the incorrect score for the remainder of the match. I see no reason to admit being wrong without visual proof. Besides, showing mistakes would ruin my credibility to the listening audience
Anyway, to summarize nothing, I typed myself into a sandy dead land and have no clue how to write my self to safety. The princess is still trapped in a dungeon waiting to marry the villainous serpent and the innocent people of the globe are destined for eternal enslavement all because of my procrastination. I blame myself for the failure but have learned a valuable lesson about what happens when I write the first thoughts that pop into my head. I will now start with a preplanned outline, have a "real story" woven into the plot and wrap up the loose ends in the conclusion. No longer will I construct trails that lead into emptiness and then quit because I am now craving pie. Please accept my apologies beautiful princess, Mother Earth and the trusting people who have read this. Also, let us all be forewarned together, never allow sidewalks to be our shepherd, you’ll never know where you will end up.
(pete lopez)
*Okay fine, there are some “misleadings” in that “summer island getaway retreat” statement. (A) The season was autumn, (B) The island was merely my birth land of Long Island, (C) I was not the proud owner of the dwelling, it was my mom’s house
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