A Story About Magical Realism

Sometimes, I write stories which are magical but they have to be based on realism for them to be believed. Sometimes, I write stories based on realism but provide some magic to give people a smile about this world.

I think that is what I do. I hope so.

However, that feels true up to yesterday.

That's because, of yesterday. I wrote a story which contained the hope of magic. But this time, the twist was very real. There was no magic.

Just a charlatan, a cheat, a liar, giving falsehoods. A dream if they only believe a bit more.

But the dream of magic never did exist

I looked at the story. I knew the premise but the end wasn't planned. They never are. But when I read my finished story, I looked and realised that there was no magic.

Just a dystopian world based on reality. Something I had never expected to happen in my lifetime. What happened.

I like dystopian movies but seeing people close to you live it, that is something else.

Are my stories an extension of me and where I am in the world? Is my life entering a new phase?

Questions.

How important are these questions?

The best thing for me, I feel, is to not look for the answers but to keep writing the stories. That way, there will be all kinds of stories with all kinds of endings.

That sounds good to me.

That includes the stories about writing stories.

Thank you for reading

Task provided by @mariannewest

Link to task

Here is a link to the story.

A Story About A Pineapple