There was a man who wrote only epilogues,
as a sort of reverse Queneau,
a Uaeneuq.
Many writers are prolific of beginnings,
the stories are all beautiful when they bloom
in the mind like a flower of firecrackers,
but then they lose flavor when fatigue
gets serious on the fingertips
and make the keys of a silent keyboard hollow.
The white screen looks questioningly
What will those characters, now boring, do?
how to extract them from the swamp of the spotless sheet
and make them still vivid as just thought?
Instead, UaeneuQ wrote only finals.
"They lived happily ever after", yes, but who?
"Frankly I do not care"
he answered, and then "we went out to see the stars"
of a sky that had never been described to us
The one guilty?
"The butler", of course.

---

This post is part of the 5 Minute Freewrite Contest.

This is also done with The Most Dangerous Writing App and only a little editing for typos.

All images are my own unless otherwise cited.

The House of all the Freewriters!