Excerpt: Bystander

INTRODUCTION
Me, Atalanta

Nothing ever happens to me. No, honestly. I am the bystander in every situation. I watch impartially as the world goes by and everyone else takes direct hits. I am always in the sidelines, sometimes cheering and sometimes silent. Sometimes it’s a bit useful, because I’d be a very good witness if I was ever called up to testify or anything like that. I remember details – really small ones, too – and I watch almost everything. I sometimes wish I had more insight, but that would make events complicated and those are a few too many details to handle.

I mean, if I knew what went on, I’d be constantly wondering so why did she do that? and what was his motive? and other things of that sort. And really, I don’t have time for that because the world is going by and I’m supposed to be watching it so I can tell everyone what really happened, what I saw. So I remain nonchalant, impartial and aloof. Well, most of the time. Because sometimes these things hit a bit close to home and I have to flinch so I don’t get hurt too. I’ve never really been hurt though. I don’t get so close to the fire. At least not close enough to get burned.

So basically, nothing ever happens in my life. I’m not sure if I should be complaining or ecstatic about this. I know people who want more and I know people who want less. I’m the balance in the middle, the neutral – always. Always, always, always. I’m really consistent, I think.

I am the bystander. Me, Atalanta Johnson. I am the passerby who just happens to see and knows nothing about the situation.

But even bystanders have stories to tell. We should, with all the things we see, all the people we pass by, all the things we can’t really tell because we’re not sure we understand them, but that we want to share anyway. So I, Atalanta the Bystander, have a story to tell and I plan to tell it. And maybe it’s about time that I got to tell a story. Maybe it’s about time I got to be engaged, because I’ve never had my chance. So, I’ll put as much feeling as I can into these few words I give you, because at this point, they’re all I’ve got and mostly all I know.

I heard somewhere that the best teacher is experience. Does it count if all the experience is gained secondhand?

I’m not sure, but whatever the answer may be, I’ll tell you about my secondhand experience. Like most storytellers, I cannot start in the middle of the story. So I’m going to have to rewind a bit and start at the beginning. The very beginning when it seemed like the end was something not even possible in dreams.