The Day Imagination Died

Imagination is nearly a living, breathing thing. It’s a part of the brain that is in charge of dreaming, reasoning, hope, fear, and most obviously, imagination. So when it died, it was a horrible thing.

No one had the ability to plan. No one could make any decision they hadn’t made before, but the decisions had to be made in the same exact conditions. No one improved vocabulary, learned anything, or even understood anything they hadn’t already known. For this reason, newborns never did anything beside what their natural instincts told them to.

People wouldn’t try new things. They would barely try old things. They were dead, husks of their former selves. The human race was deteriorating.

They lived in a state of apathy and ignorance, not realizing what the importance of anything could be. They didn’t even realize anything. They lacked the ability to act, almost lacked the ability to live. They didn’t have a will or a mind to make up anymore.

Things that can’t think can’t live for long. Accidents started happening because humans couldn’t react to changes in their environment except in ways they knew how.

The human culture was also changing. Because of the lack of ingenuity, music had no originality or heart. Everything sounded the same, but no one would think about why, or even complain about it. Artists stopped painting, except to copy what they had already drawn. Poets and writers stopped writing altogether, having nothing new to write about, and wanting to write about nothing, though it was the only thing they knew how to do. Workers did their same routine, but without the control of their superiors they did the same things in the same places.

Eventually life became dull and lifeless. Life without life is like two minus two: zero. So it was when imagination died.

This was my attempt at a thought provoking story. This is also the sort of thing I’m planning for a character of mine whose life is imagination. Cruel, no? I’m glad imagination can’t die. At least, I hope it can’t. Humankind runs on imagination– it would truly be terrible for humankind to lose what defines it.

This is different for me, I know. I don’t usually write things this solemn, but I’m glad I was able to express my thoughts like this.


4 thoughts on “The Day Imagination Died

  1. I would feel the same way if imagination died. But then again, if imagination died, I wouldn’t feel…I wouldn’t have a reason or the motivation to feel.

      1. i know, right? you know, usually you aren’t so solemn. but i really like your story. it expresses your love for imagination, and your admiration for how it shapes our world.

      2. NO! Not that expression! Anything but that! I hate the dreaded “I know, right?” You should know better.

        And it also expresses my love for the bittersweet ending. This was the most bittersweet ending to any story that I could think of. Of course, it wouldn’t have been widespread calamity as I described here– just selective, over a few individuals. Individuals with good friends who would miss them. That combined with the happy ending makes for an awesome bittersweet ending. I love it.

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