By Stella Z. Hu (aka Twig)

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Choices

They say that once, there was a man standing on a shore. 

Nocreature knows how he came to be there. It could have happened in infinite ways. It does not matter.

What matters is that the ocean upon that shore, the deep blue sea lapping at the man’s feet, was treacherous, to say the very least. Storms rolled that day, gray clouds hung low and waves crashed. There were monsters within that sea, many people say. Sea serpents. Giant squids. Merfolk, not of the kind from stories often told to children now, but of the kind that would drag you to your grave and devour you with their sharp teeth. Perhaps other things entirely, things beyond any familiar description, perhaps beyond human comprehension even. And no land and no human life to be found for hundreds and thousands and millions of miles upon it. Should the man step into the sea, he would not survive it.

What matters is that blocking the man from walking away from the sea, stood the Devil himself, with the most bloodcurdling smile imaginable. Why he was there, how the man knew it was him, and what he planned to do to the man, it is not certain. It could be any number of things. Perhaps the man did not even know himself. But it would be terrible, it would be something to make the strongest of men quiver, something to give you nightmares for the rest of your days. And he would enjoy it. Should the man run along the shore, the Devil would follow alongside him. Should the man make a move in the Devil’s direction, he would not pass unscathed. Perhaps he would not pass at all.

For whatever reason, by whatever circumstance, the man found himself trapped between the two. The Devil and the deep blue sea. Each more than ready and able to cause him insurmountable pain and suffering, and each more than ready and able to kill him. He would not be able to leave the spot where he stood without choosing one of them to face. He could swim out into the sea, or some say there was a dinghy nearby that he could leap into. He could try to run past the Devil or fight him. Either way, his chances of survival were slim, and it was certain that he would suffer immensely. 

Both stood there, waiting for him to make his choice. And if he stood paralyzed with indecision for long enough, he knew one or the other would grow impatient and claim him without his choosing. Perhaps even both. 

There are many versions of the tale. There are many different ways both the Devil and the sea are described in it, many different tellings of what either will do to him, many different tellings of what choice the man makes and what happens to him. Each has a different lesson to tell. There are infinite ways that the tale may unfold, nigh-infinite ways that it has unfolded before, nigh-infinite ways it is unfolding right now, somehow, somewhere. There is meaning in each of those. There is meaning, perhaps most of all, in the premise of this tale alone, as it is set, as I have described it to you. There is weight, tremendous weight, in the choice, and the choice alone. In that impossible, cruel, terrible choice.

I wonder how many people know this. I wonder how many are fully, completely aware of this. 

They all are, on one level or another. It is impossible not to be.

Still, I find it important to call one’s attention to. 

I suppose it is your choice what you will do with it. 

Process

I was prompted to write something to do with a common expression. This one came to mind, and what was I gonna do with that, just NOT be ominous and overdramatic as frick?