The Typewriter Project: Perspective

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I totally spaced out and missed the first round of the Typewriter Project, a creative writing challenge hosted by Mahriya @ MyBookishLife, but I’m getting in just before the buzzer for round #2! The theme of this week is perspective, an often overlooked aspect of writing. Where your story is coming from changes the kind of story it ends up being, and the perspective you choose is the filter through which your writing passes.

For this second installment of the Typewriter Project, Lia @ Lost in a Story did a guest post for Mahriya on the different types of perspective you can write in and how to write using perspective creatively. Keeping with the theme, Task #2 was to write the opening of a story using a unique perspective. I went with a perspective that I certainly never would have thought to use if not for this challenge!

It began and ended as it always does: with a fall.

He fell quickly. Countless times I have heard people describe a fall as though the fabric of time tore away from the pattern of warp and weft and went null; as though the world ceased to exist except for that one, unending event. This is never the case. Each and every human who has ever tripped or slipped, jumped or dropped, has fallen under my hand in the exact same fashion. They fall quickly.

I watched Roan Messinger plummet precisely as humans do, albeit from a drastically greater height than most. I stared him down as he twisted through the breathless, sickening rush of open sky, and I did nothing. As always, I remained: infinitely able to intervene, and unrelentingly unwilling to do so.

It was possible, you see. It was well within my power to suspend him in midair, to suspend that awful moment of impact. But to save one soul from the crushing pull of the ground, to release my grip on one tiny piece of the cosmos for but a moment, would have risked everything slipping from my grasp, and the world depends on me. My strength and will, my gravitas, create your gravity. The fate of all things rests upon me binding them together, and upon that force never failing.

If ever there was a human I would have risked it for, it was him. For as surely as gravity predicts the future of the world, in that fleeting, tumbling moment, the future also hung upon the shoulders of a boy falling out of the sky.

Of a boy running out of time.

The perspective? First person, from gravity personified as the narrator.

What do you think? Are you also participating in the Typewriter Project? Have you read any books with wildly creative perspectives included? Drop me a line; I’d love to know!

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