Almost seems like the perfect day.The sky is dim from clouded, burning rain, and the musty smell of freedom perfumes the air. It's a Friday, and the two-day period of unprecedented freedom and limited restriction is ready to splice its rusty anchor by the harbor.
But something coils underneath the cold water.
A perfidious beast, in sudden succession, broils the water. It lunges in the open air, its ravishing jaws impressively revealing clustered teeth, like daggers. Such poise, such swagger, such heart-stopping fear.
But this blood-curdling monster is not here to attack--he is here for news.
A stake is piercing his gills of plush meat and adipose tissue, you take novice. Slowly prying it out, the stake is your prize. But it was after all, the stake that gave you the shark.
As a metaphor, that would be my best description of the prize I have.
The seas boil with alarms and surprises--like the world does. You have no idea who will surprise you, and you have no idea which shark will come with a stake in his hands as the most minimalistic treasure you'll keep for a lifetime.
The world of comics drones with silent but rewarding surprises. The ships of reality's harbor only carries them. But when an actual shark comes along to grab you off your seat, you are just swelled with pride. Not bashful pride, but in thankfulness and in gratitude.
Scott Allie became the shark with the stake. I don't know what dragged him here, but as the stake dragged the shark to my free ship, Scott Allie was moved with something. Moved with something... when he decided to post my letter to The Umbrella Academy.
In this inevitable sea of how the world goes around, there's not much a chance to be understood, heard, and known as a fan by the shark of your life. Being a comic fan for near years now, I've always wanted to be a fan that would be heard. I always knew, "Someday you'll get to say what you have been speaking in your mind and the world will know it. And someday, you'll get to feel what it's like having someone listen to you and understand you."
And Scott Allie did. Even if it was just a mere excerpt of what I meant to write. Even if it came from a very stupid, immature letter. Whatever he was thinking, I don't know. He could have been bothered, annoyed, stupified, I don't know.
But if he thought it was special enough for him to put it up for the world to see--it's just good enough for me. Now I know what it's like to be heard by the best I could get my questions from. I don't know if it was fate that impaled him inside, or if somebody watched over each letter I made. But God definitely had something to do with it. If it weren't for Him watching over it, no other way would affirm itself over it.
Gerard would be really proud.
