Exploring Unreliable Narration - A Snippet
Sharing a snippet that I wrote quite a while ago, and that I'm very proud of! It's a bit of an exploration of an unreliable narrator who admits their unreliability. I find myself wondering just how much the reader would be able to tell was true or not with this kind of narration.
It was a lovely summer evening. The birds were singing, the trees were rustling, the cats were tanning, the ants were busy doing what ants do, and I was staring at the ceiling bored out of my head and too hot to move. A normal summer evening.
What I wouldn't give to have it back.
It was a sudden thing, like the rug being pulled out from under your feet. The earth rumbled, the ceiling crumbled, and everything we knew was erased, as though toppled aside by some giant hand.
Alright, so it didn't happen quite like that. It wasn't out of the blue, and it wasn't unexpected. But, since I figure I'm the only person left to tell the tale, that's exactly how it was to you.
We fell face-flat on this new existence.
Who are you to say any different?
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Thoughts?