The Story of Playt (Opening)

This is the story of a man that goes by the alias of Playt. What a strange name from the start you may be thinking, and well it is fitting if nothing else. Randomness is a word that holds meaning for most, but to Playt this word is just normalcy. What we consider to be madness this man sees as mild randomness. To define this world and the words that we all use so differently from everyone else makes that person different. Now do not take this difference as a bad thing for it is in fact one of his greatest qualities. An original in this world is rare, for most say that they are original only to in fact fit into the stereotypical role of the anti-conventional. The story of this man shall remain short and zany for anything other then a brief glimpse into this beings soul may drive your world to madness. It is quite possible that I as the author am just keeping it short out of laziness, but I will let you all decide that after you get that glimpse into the world of Playt.

A standard looking story of zaniness suddenly breaking out into a poem? Yes I did indeed just do that. The flow of imagery and words fall into convention not for the sake of conventionalism, but for the sake of comprehension. What is it that this man does? It is not what he does, but rather what he doesn't do. He is himself despite the world and perhaps he was born to spite this world. This world of convention and normalcy has become a cold and judgmental place and yet he remains unchanged. He is human and will succumb to moments of sadness, but with all the sadness of his soul he still looks around and takes the pain of others. He takes that pain and makes it his own. He bleeds for them because it hurts less for him to bleed then see others suffer. He does this all with a smile on his face and will not follow what the world says. To follow ones heart is his way. To go against his heart would be something he would never do because it would unmake someone so genuine.

Wait did I just break form again? I sure did. Hmm that seems very strange. You notice at the end it is a haiku instead of a wakka but it is clearly a string poem that should follow form, but while my words have form there meaning is impossible to confine to a form. Is Playt my savior you may ask? No would be the short answer for as Playt would say "people can only save themselves". Even saying that he is there to support for anyone that is in need. Is Playt a saint? Certainly not. He is just Playt. No more, no less. Perhaps if we were all a little more like Playt though we would be a little more.

-Dragon Darkness

TABLE OF CONTENTS