The Kingdom of Unoriginality

Once upon a time there was a lady who circled around the town. And in a castle she found a room that she liked. There were beautiful colours. Magical spells. Leaves  swaying in the air.  I’ll borrow this idea, she thought to herself.

On her heels, she turned around and walked straight into her room. There she began cutting. And writing. And pasting. And painting. All to express what she had seen, never moving away from the origin.

When she finished her project, she felt joy and pride. After all, she had created something. Something everyone would like.

She called for her friend. Entering the room, her friend could see all but originality. Dumb-struck, she felt silent, unable to even think. For the room felt so known and yet so repulsive.

The lady spoke: “I don’t know what came over me. The idea just popped into my mind.” Her friend raised an eyebrow. But the lady didn’t let herself be bothered. “The room needed something.”

Before the friend could roll her eyes or chuckle, a lightning struck from the ceiling of the room and turned the lady into a warted and ugly witch, who looked like every witch ever known. Nothing special and nothing new, borrowing the image from them all, threatened to be cast into stone.

Next, the window opened and the wind’s arm reached in and grabbed the copycat to pull and blow her away into the abyss.

The friend stood in place, thinking and looking around the room. She twirled her finger and put everything in its dull, common original place. With a smirk on her face, she closed the door and walked away.


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