Author's Notes

The following piece of writing is called a vignette, which is defined as a short, descriptive literary sketch. The term, "vignette" was first introduced to me in my Humanities class my sophomore year of high school; if it weren't for that introduction, I wouldn't even be writing vignettes.

Since poetry is one of my strengths, my vignettes tend to flow like poems, but they do not follow the poetry format. I usually write vignettes when I need to get an idea out on paper without writing an actual story or expressing it in a poem.

Lost In Volition

I remember when we were young, Mother would tell us stories. Stories of faraway tribes and creatures, elements living in harmony with one another. We thrived on the truth of these stories and the legends that became role models and precedents for our lives.

Then she left. And I tried so hard not to let our stories die with her. I conjured the strength of our heritage from inside of me, letting the magical water surround me and drown my fears, my sadness, swallowing me whole. But, still, it escapes my control, and your ridicule worries me, because ever since she left us for the Spirit Realm, you were possessed by a desire. A strange and fearful desire that drives you to surpass him, our father, so that you will finally be the one loved and adored by the entire village. You could never settle for yourself, you always wanted more, yet you always accused me of betraying our clan, of striving for things beyond my reach.

I just hope that somewhere inside of you, you understand that we all need a warm home and we all need stars to reach for, otherwise, what, truly, is the meaning of life? Certainly not your war games of besting our brothers and claiming to “defend our homes.” Because when that fire blazes, the flames take forms not even your mind can comprehend.