We are the Unseen
In which the Narrator introduces himself, our story and the truth.
Here is a small, but truthfully dramatic, fact:
You are going to die.
I am in all truthfulness attempting to be cheerful about this whole daunting topic, though most of the people that I often meet tell me that I am a liar. Please trust me. I can be cheerful. I can be amiable. Agreeable. Affable. That's only the A’s and we don't have time to go through all of the other letters. Just don't ask me to be nice. Many will tell you that nice has nothing to do with me.
Reaction to the aforementioned fact:
Are you afraid of this?
I urge you - don't be afraid.
You have nothing to be afraid of, not really.
Everyone dies eventually - even I.
Of course, an introduction.
Where are my manners?
I could introduce myself properly, but it's not necessary. You'll know me well enough, but not until the end depending on a diverse range of variables. But you don't want to hear about the end. You want to hear about the beginning, so I'll get back to it. At some time you will meet me, I will shake your hand and force a smile, a laugh, some small talk if you're worth it.
Another fact that you must know:
I am part of the Unseen.
You won't know what that truly means. But you can guess what it sort of means; it means that you cannot see me, I am invisible etc, etc, etc. You'll be shocked to know that although you can't see me, I can see you. You would be surprised at what people do when they think no one is watching. They become more of themselves, and what I mean by that is that they do things that they would keep hidden if they were in company. Which is ridiculous really, why should you hide who you really are just because of society? Be yourself. No pesky opinion will damage that, I promise you.
Although some have told me that I am a hypocrite. But trust me, please just trust me. After all I am telling you this story. Without me there would be no story. It sounds self-centered of me, but it's true.
Anyway, the Unseen are wanderers, they roam and they are nomads. You shouldn't be afraid of us. You can't be afraid of what you can't see - seeing is believing you know. The Unseen are actually nice people. They are there to utter a quiet 'no' when you are about to do something ridiculous, they are there as silent encouragement and they are always there when you feel that in fact nobody is there to care.
I tell you this because it is a part of my redeeming qualities. Maybe if I tell you the positive aspects of me, it will make you trust me, and not just now but at the end too when every secret is revealed to you.
But back to the main point of this monologue: this story is a rather peculiar one.
It's a small story really, but still it's hard to tell, which should tell you something, and that is caused by all of these things;
- A girl
- A series of notes
- Some very nosy people
- A whole new world
- And secrets
Notice how I said secrets and not lies? There is a stark difference between the two which you will find out amongst every other bit of new knowledge coming your way.
This story begins at an end but not the end. It begins at a place I frequent quite a lot actually - the cemetery.