Two years and perhaps a few months ago, a man stood by a birthday cake. It's candles were not lit, instead they had been blown many days before we meet this young man. Who this man is shall remain a mystery, which is fine. He is nobody of importance. Not yet at least.
It was not this man's story we intend to follow, but rather his successor's. A young boy, not even of age. His name too remains unknown, but only for a brief period of time.
This very boy's birthday it was those days ago, but he never got around to eating his cake. Or cutting it for the matter. It would seem he was never able to cut into the sugary frosting that spelled "Happy Day of Life Garson, You Are Now 15. We Are So Proud."
Why he was unable to is yet another mystery. You will find I keep many mysteries from you throughout this telling of tale. And the tale itself does not belong to one character, oh no, it belongs to many. I can, however, guarantee this Garson boy will be the first of tales.
Now, I am but a narrator, and in love of my job I cannot stray from the plot. Paper is running rather short and I must cast myself once more from this story. So concludes this rather brief introduction. Yet of you were to ask questions, like who is the man by the cake, or why was the cake uncut, or a detail account on who Garson is, then simply turn the page.
YOU ARE READING
A Series of Short Stories
RandomAll leaves must follow their branches back to the root from which the tree began.
