The life of Written Word
Written Word was conceived in a moment of passion. It was fathered by Meaning, who was a great shapeshifter and perpetually sought to infuse several morphemes, often settling for a Root and a shy affix. But today, Meaning shifted into his deep state and compounded two words. Their enchanted union gave birth to Written Word.
In the strange world where Written Word was formed, a ritual took place before it could see the light. It had to stare into the ugly face of dame Doubt, and only once she gave her blessing did Written Word begin its journey to release. It floated down from the chaotic creative womb where it had been born, down an arm where there were many foes to wrestle. Here, it was measured against other Written Words and bounced around to establish its worth. Written Word was elated when it finally made it to the cramping hand, twisted in spasms of afterbirth, the fingers holding tight onto the magic device that sucked Written Word into it, mashed it into a spot of ink, and spewed it out to seep into a place that was steeped in lignin. The cells that drew Written Word in, spread its borders just enough to display its perfect fit, and here it thought it would lie forever; pure bliss.
In some cases, Written Words make it all the way here, only to be aborted, to lie in a basket, discarded and unwanted, so close to the master who had sent it into the creative womb where Written Words are conceived; a place called Mind. But Written Word was fortunate, and it felt sure and proud of its purpose wrapped in a thick book between warm pages. Here it lay for many years until the dreadful day when it discovered that Doubt had a heinous father, a dark agent called Editor.
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