This Is Where It All Started

“This is where the original blog, started. FletcherSatchel,” said Fletcher.

“Here?”

They both look around. Everything was white, colourless, a blank canvass.

They look back at each other.

“Oh, yeah, pretty much,” said Fletcher. “There was another post where I made fun of Allah, but I took that down. You know, who wants that aggravation.”

“For a laugh.”

“Yeah, for a laugh,” said Fletcher.

“Ah, those crazy religious nuts.”

“Yeah. So, this is where it originally started, then,” said Fletcher.

They both look around. It is white as far as they can see, nothing but white.

“This is where it started.” He makes a wide arm movement meant meaning to take the whole place in.

“Yes,” said Fletcher Satchel. He raises his hands up in the air. “This is where it started.”

They both look around again. Colourless. Featureless. Blank. An empty canvas.

“Wow! Who’d have thought. This place.” He waves his arms around.

“I know, it’s hard to believe now,” said Fletcher.

“Hard to believe now. Such an inauspicious place, you know, to start.”

“I know,” said Fletcher. “There was nothing here.”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing,” said Fletcher.

“How it is when things start out.”

“So many people still can’t grasp that it all came from nothing,” said Fletcher.

“But have no problem making up stories to, er, explain, er, what they don’t know.”

“Fantastical stories,” said Fletcher. He suddenly had a large leather bound volume in his hands.

“Unbelievable stories.”

“Stories that becomes sacred,” said Fletcher.

“Simply because so many people said they were.”

“Stories that make no sense,” said Fletcher. He flicked through the pages of the old leather bound volume.

“Stories from which they take truths that aren’t even there.”

“Selectively,” said Fletcher.

“Even Cherry picking the bits that suit them.”

Fletcher tosses the old leather bound book into the air in front of him and then kicks it away.

“Anyway, there have been so many changes since then, of course,” said Fletcher.

Text begins to slide along the white ground like the opening crawl from Star Wars.

“So many changes.”

“And it is all the better for it,” said Fletcher. “So many improvements.”

“So many improvements.”

Text begins to slide across the white sky.

“It is so much better for it,” said Fletcher.

“You have worked hard and made so many improvements.”

“Oh, yes, I’d like to think I have,” said Fletcher.

“You’ve really made something of all of this.”

Paragraphs begin to slide under their feet.

“I’m glad you have noticed,” said Fletcher. “It is very gratifying to have it noticed.”

“Oh, yes, I think it is very good.”

Text slides by where the white walls were

“Thanks, that means a lot,” said Fletcher.

“Well, you have worked hard.”

“Not as hard as I could have, I wasted a lot of time, but I have been at it more recently,” said Fletcher.

“Well, I still think you have done a good job.”

Paragraphs fill the walls, floor and ceiling, sliding past.

“That’s nice to hear,” said Fletcher. “It makes a change from patting myself on the back.”

“Yeah, well, that’s the way of the world, hey?”

“Hey?” said Fletcher. “So, I’m not the only one who thinks that.”

“Nah, of course not, that’s the way it goes.”

“That’s the way it goes?” said Fletcher.

“Yeah, sure. You pat yourself on the back until one day, against all odds someone, somewhere, may, possibly notice.”

“That sounds disheartening?” said Fletcher.

“Ha, if you are allergic to being disheartened, you’re in the wrong game, mate.”

“Wrong game?” said Fletcher.

“Sure. Grow thick skin! Or, get yourself a dog, it will be much easier in the long run.”

“Woof, woof,” said Fletcher.

“If you want to get noticed, it’s probably easier to start a religion, or buy a gun.”

“A cult, or a colt,” said Fletcher.

“There you go, you’ve got the idea.”

“Bang, bang.”