Escape The Stream
"He looked out at a stream of people that were faster, stronger, better than him in every conceivable way. To keep up with the stream was to drown."
He looked out at a stream of people that were faster, stronger, better than him in every conceivable way. To keep up with the stream was to drown. How were they all still swimming fast enough? Yet he was an idealist. He looked around. A horde stared back at him.
He walked up to the one that didn't turn his head and asked him where he was, where they all were. "Far away from home," was the answer. Just as well, he thought. Just as well. "I recognize you," said the man, who went back to nursing his wounds.
"I remember you from the stream. You swam good. Fast and hard." said the man. "Not well enough... I guess I just wasn't cut out to suceed. He turned back to the stream and waved to the people whizzing by. "Can they see us or are we invisible to them?" The man smirked.
"At that speed" the man said, "You can't see anything but the person in front of you." "Where did you fall out of the stream?" "It isn't where but when..." He stared, waiting for his answer. "We all fall out when we realise what we love... and that it is forbidden..."
The stranger said no more and hobbled away. He followed him and saw the faces of those who had stopped swimming. They were sad, afraid, tired and beaten. Still, he believed. He believed he could go back. He just had to regain his strength. "Can you see that tent? asked the man.
Inside the tent he saw a thriving commune of people who'd left the stream for good. Some of them were fired from jobs, some quit, some broke down and others were broken. But inside the tent, together, they seemed happy. They looked at the newcomer. A woman walked up to him.
She wore a striking, old amulet and told him that she knew him, or at least knew his kind. She saw that look in his eye and knew he planned on going back. "I just need to regain my strength," he said. She replied, "What for? You're already where you need to be… To sit outside the stream is a gift, it is the fulfilling of a promise made to us before we were born. It is the reason we were born in the first place."
"I don't understand."
"The stream is a waiting room."
"What are they waiting for?"
"To remember the truth."
"But what of my purpose? I could start again."
"To realise one's purpose is to find peace. Did you believe there was peace in the stream?"
"Maybe if I can be fast enough, strong enough, good enough..."
"Ask yourself..." she said, "Do you really believe that?"
About The Writing Of This Short Story
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