chris the PAPERMAN
Chris The Paperman is a name synonymous with the peculiar and the profound.
Born in a quiet town bordered by an uncommonly dense fog and a river that only flowed upstream in the moonlight, Chris’s childhood was the forge for the strange, soulful narratives found in works like The Paperman’s Tales.
A former archivist for a museum that only collected broken typewriters and misplaced spectacles, their life is a testament to the fact that the best stories are found in the overlooked margins of the world.
They now reside in a perpetually slightly-too-cold attic, writing by the erratic light of a single, flickering gas lamp, convinced that their characters occasionally walk the streets outside.
ABOUT MY SIGHT
Let me tell you something about my eyes.
Yes, they are brown and nothing more dazzling there to find.
As basic as can be but nothing is basic about the ability to see.
There are a few things on earth that have crossed my eyes viewed by very few and have shaped my humanity.
The suffering of a parent on the border of life-altering surgery.
A face devoid of hope when depression hinders abilities.
The light found when friends turn to lovers for the first time.
Then the surprise they find as they look at everything they can now call mine.
The rise of fools to soldiers that look at death with a calm face.
The change of heart from a boss that believed they would only leave others disgraced.
The overwhelming joy from a joke that you can giggle at for several minutes.
The want for the one person to arrive to a party when everyone else is in it.
The one thing I long to see now is the sky.
It’s a simple thing but complex for me, permit me to tell you why.
When I look up, I have 10 seconds before my tears well up and my eyes slam shut.
Working in darkness and with long spans of computer screens will also leave your eyes also wishing you could look up.
I can do so if I lie on my back.
Looking forward to the horizon and hopefully not needing a hat.
Tell me what’s up there so I may dream as you do by day.
From there look into my eyes, can you see what they are trying to say?
Chris Paperman © 2023
THE RAVEN
Oh, don’t mind me, I am just passing through.
You need not worry about my small frame or if I am going to disturb you.
What is this? Prose beneath you nose?
Do you mind if I have a look at it? I want to see how this goes.
A tree, a few side characters and no mystery. Really?
How can you put this down without any foresight or clarity?!
You need to try harder! Scrap it and start again!
Don’t waste a word if it doesn’t deserve to play a part in the tale my friend.
Ok, this looks a bit better, but what are they supposed to do when the reach the bridge?
Cast a spell? Please try to be original, that trope has been done to the death and is only popular among kids.
Use the creativity you have and stretch the truth a bit more.
Collate a collection of crafty solutions that nobody has ever seen before.
This is now starting to look like a novel.
Don’t stop now, you are on a roll, no time to dawdle.
That’s it! Ignore the cramp in your hand and your back as you write.
You will have a story worth telling by the end of tonight.
The candle has been snuffed out.
It seems it is time for me to depart, there is no more work to be done here no doubt.
No need to thank me, just trust yourself a little more than you care to know.
My name? Oh, you can call me “Poe”.
Chris Paperman © 2023
