The Tale Of Revelation

FOR THE MONTH OF HORROR, I PRESENT AN APOLOGUE TOLD BEHIND THE CURTAINS OF THE CONFESSIONAL: A PLAY OF VIRGIN LAMBS AND A SULLIED SHEEP.

- WORDS KELLY LEWI PHOTO THE SCAPEGOAT BY WILLIAM HOLMAN HUNT (1854)

“DON'T JUDGE A BOOK by its cover,” they say. People lament it's unfair to form a conclusive impression based on someone's outer appearance. What they don't realise is that a book never changes its cover. No matter how many times you flip it, fold it, tear it apart, the cover stays unbudged. It's easy to love a book despite its hideous cover, because you only need to accept it once. Humans, however, aren't books.

People are fluid by nature. Our ‘covers’ change. Some as quick as a day; some in years. Our ‘stories’ change. Some may argue that our lives have been dictated even before we were born, that our destiny is carved into the ridges of our palms. I prefer to think of us as a stack of plain, white papers. Seated before that stack is the narrator - us. Quite like me, who's currently writing this story as I go, the narrator has no clue what the next paragraph may be. Still, the papers remain blank, waiting for a script to be written.