Good Evening from Your Neighbor

I love photography. It presents such excellent opportunities. Everything considered, It’s rather entertaining. First I had such appreciation for language, if you could call it that at the time. Then came the paintings; Rudimentary, yes, but effective nonetheless. And then there was the written word. How long was it that I subsided on the timelessness of rough scratchings on brittle parchment? Sure, a painting has something of an effect, and little is lost to translation, but even so the effect struck me as so much more distinct, so much more of a beacon. If I was to measure my detection of a viewer from a mile away, then I would be able to detect a reader from a thousand miles away! Now though, I must admit, with this great abundance of technology and innovation, spread to every inch of the globe, the mediums are on a much more balanced footing. First I feel I should address Photography and Videos. Oh how I love the avid art student. Their precious treasure clicking away like a card between the spokes of a bicycle. “Oh that tree is just fantastic!”, “those children are so adorable!”, “This Park is just so lonely!” It’s like some unwritten queue, letting me know that now is when I should step into frame, or I should prepare to let my mask flicker, just in time with the shutter click of their camera. I don’t even need to linger about to wait for them to view the capture. I can feel it. This brings me to Literature. Sure, a snapshot is a tasty snack, but very little compares to a reader whos mind spends minutes to hours simmering about me. Sometimes they’re even compelled to write their own recipe for me, a garnish to their flavor if ever there was one. I do enjoy the depictions though, although they all seem to be unable to stick to the basics, always compelled to add a few extra arms, or tentacles. Sure I was compelled to don a hat from time to time, but if only to blend in with the times. A gentleman must always stay fashionable. I must say, I above all enjoy the descriptions of my face. It’s incredible how you can find so many ways to describe so little. Now I find myself dwelling on the ages. It’s peculiar. I care so much for you while you are young, only to crave you when you first begin to discover the world. I find it not unlike a farmer tending his crops. And should you age too far, I simply no longer have any interest, although there have been the occasional exception; If only for survival. Returning to the stories I find it’s interesting how they try to depict my origin. I came across one such story that described my creation as a haphazard experiment gone wrong. Creative, until you consider how far back my stories span. There was another, who described a rather entertaining pursuit which ended in ritual sacrifice that was attributed to my “mo”. I must admit, it was one of the few times I actually stepped in to stop the story. Although while I managed to resolve the one responsible. A writer escaped my noticed until after the story was propagated. And while I’ve sense dealt with the source, it would seem their work has outlived them. And now I have to deal with the attribute of gory destruction to my sustenance, even though I have such tidy manners. After all, what do you expect from any other gentleman in a suit? And then there are “the accomplices” ghoulish creatures you might find under your bed, or creeping from your closet. At times I’m almost compelled to search out each and every writer I taste to ensure no such association is made. Fortunately my endeavors have stemmed the occurrences. Unfortunately I can only be in so many places at once. Even monsters can’t be everywhere. Although I assure you, the second you try to believe that I’m not there, I am all the more enticed to make you an exception. It appears that all the time I have for now. This one is a light sleeper and I must put them back to bed. Don’t bother trying to contact them, they only saw me in one of their birthday photos when they were six, hardly worth a sample, not to mention, they can be hardly expected to remember what they did in their sleep. After all, you don’t.