What many people do not know about me is that I enjoy writing fiction. Crafting my own situations and characters, fiction allows me to abandon the outside for a few seconds and to develop something that is uniquely me. I don’t write as often as I’d like, but when I do, I can crank out 40-50 pages of sheer fictional ramblings, often placed in a situation not too far from my own. However, though in a familiar setting, writing fiction is often a picture of an enchanted world, a world with something more elevated than reality. Though I do not live in a work of fiction, I sometimes, for a split second, realize what it is like to be placed in one of my works.
When I’m not writing fiction, I’m reading it for class or analyzing it for an essay. My life has little enchantment of the magical sort. I spend most of my time in the library or balled up on my bed, reading for class or preparing for a future assignment. I don’t see the sun much, and when I do, I have to squint my eyes to prevent blindness.
Regardless, today was different. I walked out of my night class, and with the time change, the sun was still out, but beginning to dip low to kiss the horizon. Upon descending the level of steps from the building, I looked up, and found myself struck dumb. Between a high steepled church and a bundle of trees, the sun had stopped right on College Street. As if the trees and church building were holding it in place, the sun seemed stuck between these objects. Though I didn’t stop in the middle of the street, my face was fixed upon the red ball, big and close to the earth. It was then, only an hour ago, that I realized that this is what it must be like to be a character in a fictional work.
Everything seems bigger, brighter, more dramatic.
I kept walking, but I realized how easily this stressed mind can be put into a state of wonder. Little things like a large sun don’t happen often, but when they do, I realize that when I see it, I live is a sort of enchanted world. One that is like something I’ve written, only real and much better.