Life Off the Page...an Allegory

“Wouldn’t you, if you could? Step out of your own story, to lean against a doorway of the Five & Dime, sipping your coffee, your life, somewhere far behind you, all its heat and toil but a tale resting in the hands of a stranger, the sidewalk ahead wet and glistening.” Danusha Lameris

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Farley Watmore is a fictional character. He was created, not made, the brain-child of a best-selling but secluded author who shuns publicity and hasn’t been seen for some time.

The author’s tableau spans the spectrum of humanity…the sordid, the refined; prostitutes, murderers, sadists, priests, sailors, merchants and politicians. His will breathes life into them. His moving fingers write their text; his words define their destiny.

They emerge from ethereal nothingness and enter a world of chance. Imaginary characters have a short but predestined life. They each arrive with a purpose, changeable at the author’s whim.

The scenes are set in a complex grid. Characters move autonomously. But actually, their ways are predetermined. Like a computer micro-chip, the author designs an elaborate integrated circuitry board. Paths crisscross, diverge, co-mingle and part. Farley lives inside such a grid.

He’s cultured, intelligent and lacks nothing but experiential knowledge of his senses. He has a vicarious knowledge of passion, but no identity with it. His world is crafted by a stranger. He lives within the pages of a book that’s being born. His fate is undetermined, left up to the writer’s caprice.

Yet something is stirring in Farley. A restless feeling raps at his door, a shadow hangs around his garden gate. The author contemplates what’s next. Farley squirms, indecisive, confused. It’s all part of the ever-moving script.

Outside rain trickles down the window. Drops drip from the pink roses beneath. Farley wants to feel the rain, to smell the pink roses, to hear the mockingbird’s song, to see the sun sparkle on oak leaves and to hear the wind in the pines. He wants to experience life.

He yearns for freedom from the prison of the computer screen. The writer knows this and lets him step off of page 386 and begin his journey into the world of senses.

Outside he hears noise, strange, disconsolate sounds. Machines, airplanes, angry voices. A dog barks, a baby cries. Babble. A distant siren wails. An emerging emotion grips him. His intellect defines it as fear. He retreats into the safety of the computer. His courage is shaken.


Farley considers the tradeoff…safety for freedom, subjective feeling to objective experiences. He’s conflicted. Questions. Decisions. A foot in, a foot out? The life of another’s design? Or one devised by independent will?

He reprimands the author for releasing him without warning, with no script. He feels anger. He hates the silence. He wants to choose his way. He steps back out of the page as night falls.

The stars shine, the moon sits atop the pines. His eyes fill with the mystery of the heavens. He hears music for the first time. He feels happy. He follows the sound down a quiet sidewalk. A wedding. He goes in. Mirth is everywhere. He feels joy, a novel emotion. His fears subside.

A woman approaches him with champagne. His nerves react. Computer women don’t create this sensation, he thinks. He’s nervous, unsure of himself.

The champagne is cold, sweet. Her perfume excites his senses, her body tingles his nerves. They dance. He holds her close, feels the heat of her body, the sensuous curvature of her spine. Her blonde hair lies on his shoulder, tickles his ear. Her fingers touch his head; her breath is hot on his neck. Her lips are red and luscious. He feels heaven.

Then the music abruptly stops. The woman pulls away. She walks off, disappearing into the crowd. He feels lonely. His heart aches. He feels abandoned, depressed.

But soon the music begins again. Garth sings, “Yes my life is better left to chance, I could have missed the pain but then I’d have had to miss the dance.”

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She stands there, a radiant toothy smile, calls his name. He grins. Strangers no more. Magic happens. Farley stepped off the page and found life waiting for him.

“Wouldn’t you, if you could?”


Bud Hearn
June 6, 2014