The last letter I sent to Cormac McCarthy

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The last letter I sent to Cormac McCarthy Anonymous Fri Jun 16 00:37:07 2023 No.22153230 [Reply] [Original]

Once upon a time there was a writer. His stories were about everything. There was depth and width to his stories. Technology, human condition, life and death. Freedom. Happiness. And when that writer wrote, he wrote with the utmost care and precision, as if he was rewriting the bible for the glory of all Creation. Even the smallest, most mundane part of the stories were crafted with exquisite quality and for a reason. As the years went by, he knew that there will be a time when he can no longer write.

One day, the writer of great literature received letters from three people who were inspired by his work: a scientist, an artist, and a teacher.

The scientist wrote, “I was inspired by the technology imagined in your work, and the possibilities of science. They made me eager to learn more about the natural laws of creation. With my research, I have made your ideas into reality,” and the scientist explained her own life work.

The artist wrote, “To Mr. Writer, I was inspired by the concepts introduced to me in your stories, and I have found my own voice and have discovered the stories to tell through my artwork,” then he wrote about the direction his art was going, inspired by the writer’s work.

Then the writer turned to the note from the teacher, which read “Dear writer, when I read your books, I was inspired by the power of stories and the love of human life that you displayed in your books. I have become a teacher to share the power of literacy and the importance of communal values with my young students,” and she wrote about the growth and the enthusiasm of her students, and how they were full of life.

The writer thought to himself about how he will never experience the technology the scientist has made possible, and he will never witness the final completion and the magnum opus of the budding artist’s work. He will never see nor meet the good citizens that the generation of the teacher’s students will grow up to be. But he knows that in a way, through his life work and effort, he has somehow sired all three of the people that the scientist, the artist, and the teacher has become on that day. And he knows that the scientist, the artist, and the teacher will also birth new generations of people, and so it goes.

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/lit/ - Literature