Great Novelist

He saw two manuscripts on the screen. On the left was the contents of the grain of sand, and on the right was an empty manuscript.

He remembered what happened during the day. It was about the exhibition. It was a small stage. It was informal. He imagined his writing there. I felt a little overwhelmed by the first time I experienced it.

I looked back at the blank manuscript. What about this guy? What if he becomes a twin brother of a sand egg born in the same place?

Until I heard that the exhibition was too busy to write, nothing happened after completing it.

I couldn't confirm what kind of writing it would look like, but I wanted to try it out properly before writing it. I want to do something big at the beginning of this article. Then you'd better aim to publish as well.

If there is a new form in it, it is.

“Trophy.”

Sending a manuscript to a publisher, not a contest. He had never been a popular writer as his debut.

“Why don't we try another name? ”

I've been concerned so far. I read it by accident. I bought it by accident. Readers said that these sentences were not bored. Of course, many people were grateful to read their articles.

But every time I saw such a sentence, I had no choice but to think about it. What if it wasn't a coincidence? If it wasn't a coincidence, would the article be acclaimed as it is now?

I wanted to see the answer for myself. I wanted to see it with my own eyes.

If writing under a different name is as successful as writing by chance, it can shake the readers' minds. Obviously it will act as a driving force for writing.

You'll be a little more free.

Target acquired.

There are two stories born at one time. He is a brother with the opposite personality.

One completed a copy. He was leaving behind a process of withdrawal. One was just the beginning. It is a story that has just set a goal. Things that don't change. Things that change. The story of a minor everyday life and the story of a grand adventurer. Fragments and lengths.

He moved the mouse. On the screen, there was an empty, untitled manuscript floating lonely. I will now write his story. Another person at sea.

He thought about him.

Language sensitive, disrespectful, abusive and obnoxious. Time passes and he changes. It is serious and a little tolerable. I feel centered on the nature of the dog.

He felt a slight tingling in his mouth. She said, "There must be something that doesn't change." He did not hide her influence. Things didn't change or change that far away.

After a long time, he changes. But something remained the same. I was able to bear it a little, but there was a rough and twisted part of it that was breathing. I had a temper like that that that would always turn my back on me and pop out whenever I irritated the outside.

I wanted to put this person in a giant space. He said he would cross the sea with confidence. When you hear that sound, you want to test it even more.

A space big enough to make people feel small. Magnificent background.

I was determined to play a game. He deserved that background.

That's why I chose fantasy.

He listed the words first. It was an element that would yet fill an empty world.

First there will be a protagonist, that is, a person. A world where people live. But it's not just people. Animals and plants exist.

Life.

There are lands where life can live. There's water, there's sky, there's sun.

Repeats large continents and elevated land, lakes and oceans, and freezing and melting. Some are frozen forever or melted forever. There's dry sand. There's wet sand. If there is a land where life lives, there are places where it does not.

Life communicates, trades, and moves by flying through the sky and crawling across the earth. You need a language to do that.

Writing a language is intelligent.

“Being intelligent. ”

It cannot always be peaceful.

War breaks out. Weapons are made and lives are lost. The water is polluted and the body is buried in the ground. A life is born that feeds on corpses. Tragedy continues and fear flows. There's no room for hygiene. Killing people is not just about people. It's an epidemic. People are dying again.

But there are survivors. There are always survivors. They live the rest of their lives leaving their offspring behind. The offspring leave the offspring. Time goes on and on. The war stops and the plague is cured.

People's lives come back to life.

He decided to go a little further there. Death, that doesn't change. I still had a big mouth. Maybe it's because I'm tired.

He wrote down a new word.

Eternity. Immortality. The undead.

“God.”

There is an inscription written about them. Mythology. If you have a language, you have a record. People age. The history of the world existed before he was born and even after he died.

He decided to paint a big cane of the world. Let's set a point. Let's see the world through whose eyes. Let's make it land. Let's make it water. The plants will be fine. Sarah, maybe a normal human being. Or should I stand in the shoes of God?

I imagined it.

The age in which God was born, the age in which God died, the age in which God was forgotten.

And the era of rediscovering.

As time goes on, the world changes. Power moves and culture emerges. Everything repeats death and birth. There is a god. He does not die. I just get forgotten. Why was it forgotten? What's wrong with someone who lives forever? He moved his hand. I added a reason to it. If it is invisible, if it has no record, it cannot learn and if it does not think, its existence is forgotten.

Maybe they went somewhere. Maybe they hid their bodies and erased their existence from the sight of other creatures.

We need a place. A place to hide God. God's hiding place. Where should we go? A huge continent. Where should God be hidden in such a grand setting?

My moving hand stops moving. He got up from his desk and went to the corner. There was a box. It's a delivery box. It contains the globe you ordered a while ago.

The tape that blocked the box was pulled out with a knife. A human possession. The Crate was made by Humans, and the Crate was opened by Humans.

What about God?

Does God need a human when he opens his presence? Necessary. God exists for man. Finding God is human. Humans are needed to unearth the forgotten gods.

Inside the box is a globe. The wrapping paper is peeled off. The globe reveals itself. It wasn't that big. You turn the globe. The user turns back as much as it empowers. I stopped in the middle.

It was an ordinary globe.

You turn the globe slowly. The ground and water returned. I found a place to hide God. Where would be good? Why was it created? How did God know where it was? Is God the only one who can understand the meaning of the world?

I thought for a long time which god I would make.

Round Earth has returned. It's a circle. It burns.

“Phrase.”

Pigeons cry with cries. Numbers have spheres. It is used as a unit for counting sacks and also means the old ones. My mouth hurts a little.

“Entrance.”

It can also be used to tell you where to go.

He caught a hole floating in his head. You wouldn't even know if you were in it. How did this hole get through? Obviously, history remembers. There is also a person who wrote it down. It is continuing even though it has changed its appearance and interpretation during transmission.

It was passed down to him. I arrived at him who was rude and irritable and sensitive to the language of his stubborn nature.

“A story hidden in a myth. ”

He reads the myth and recognizes the hidden symbols within. It was about the existence of God. He leaves. It is his destiny to find out. He was in charge of excavating the gods.

The globe is turned. The globe is turned. The world is spinning. Sand gathers to form the earth and water gathers to form the sea. The sun is in the sky and sometimes it rains. I'm going to get obese. I'm going to get ashes. Ice falls. There are places where people don't live. It was a place where life could not enter. There was no God there either.

The world slowly burst out. There are animals. They live with humans. They must have been close to Humans and watched their history.

Maybe it's in the closest place to God.

The sphere kept spinning. Without someone's hand, without external stimuli, it now turns on its own. It is because there is strength in it. It is because life grew in the circle.

It keeps going. Forever and ever, the circle turns. Time flies.

The terrain changes over time. The earth trembles, the mountains breathe fire, and the sea freezes.

He touched my hand. The sphere has stopped. There is white ground. A land to the north. You drilled a hole in the ground at the pole.

This was their destination.

He crosses continents, crosses oceans and climbs mountains to meet the mythical god.

“Now then. ”

Make up the myth the protagonist will read and the story behind it. You have to think about the birth and death of a person, and you have to be more specific about the background. Steady. The breach is enough for the northern lands. The story must not be pierced.

He was looking forward to building a story.

I remembered a myth.

Greek mythology, Nordic mythology, group mythology, etc. They were myths that someone had made up, mouthed, gathered and organized. There will definitely be some missing or added parts.

It was a natural flow.

Glug glug.

Let's eat before then. When I checked the time, I was already past lunch. Come to think of it, I haven't eaten a bite yet. I was furiously hungry as soon as I realized I was empty. There's something in the fridge.

He got up from his seat and thought about the place while holding a visit. If you open the door, there will be other lands beyond that hole, just as there will be other spaces.

Ground. I've decided to increase the volume a little. You decided to build a big world. If there's a place to go, it should be somewhere else. He saw the globe. What if there was another sphere in there? That's what I'm saying. Another Earth within the Earth.

The entrance is the only way to get to the other entrance. It's a different world. Time, history, language. Life will be different. I wish things had gone differently.

He continued to open the refrigerator with an unbroken imagination. Cool. Frozen air spills out as soon as the door opens. Hands are affected. The temperature is transmitted at your fingertips. The longer you leave the door open, the quicker it becomes. I think I can hear my mother's voice from behind. I was told not to keep it open for long.

The hole remains open.

We have to make a hole. No, you don't have to. The hole was already blocked. It was hidden in a myth. No one knows about it. Mythology is a kind of door. Only the person who finds the handle can open it.

Only the protagonist will be found.

The image of God, myth and protagonist becomes clearer and clearer.

“I'm hungry.”

Even as he murmured, he closed the refrigerator and went back into the room and picked up a pen.

What to Do (2) End

lim Han-baek