A Subtle Yet Powerfully Figurative Title

Bob wakes up in his apartment in the city. He is human. He has eyes and eyebrows and eyelashes and a nose. Perhaps his most distinctive feature is how average a person he is. Now that a main character is defined in this story, Bob goes to visit the generic coffee shop, which is a greatly fulfilling moment in his otherwise mundane routine. Bob walks into the store. He has long ago gotten used to the droning of the coffee machine and the chatter of the regulars. As usual, he is staring intently at the palm of his hand that he raised awkwardly close to his face, only leaving enough space to see the ground ahead for him to walk, which ingeniously saves the narrator the trouble of having to describe more things that he sees coming up to the counter. Bob then shakes his head and quickly puts his hand down. Now holding his styrofoam cup of lukewarm water, he walks out the door and continues on his day. He lives like many other people–that is, he lives in a city, and as he walks out, he nods in satisfaction at the fact that he lives in a city.

This is a transition. Bob stops at the entrance of the shop. He proceeds to scratch his neck, his eyebrows furrow–he is thinking about something. He looks around uneasily. He feels as if someone is watching him, detailing all his actions and gestures, and even has burrowed into his mind to gain access to his every thought and emotion. He thinks he can almost hear a voice, talking over and over about him. It is always somewhere in the distance, coming from all directions. Bob feels his kidney start to pound against his stomach, perhaps because of the styrofoam cup of lukewarm water. His head begins to spin, and suddenly, his vision blurs and darkens, and Bob passes out on the street. 

“What a pain in my buttocks, nevermind that, let us begin anew,” the narrator complains.

 After a strong opening and setting the scene, Bob leaves the store and continues his journey to the office with his hand again uncomfortably up close to his face. After a while, Bob arrives at his office. It is then, after he puts his hand down, when he realizes that nobody is here. The office is completely empty—wait, the office is literally, completely empty, Bob is nowhere in sight. Let us journey back down to the streets, past the office entrance, past the store whose name shall not be named, and past a third thing to fulfill the rule of three, and—hold on, what is Bob doing walking over to uh...um...Herri...Hereford street—oh dear, I really do have to generate a new setting. Bob runs and runs, and somehow ends up back at the generic coffee shop. He is sure that he has been running away from the shop. 

“But I have brought you back, Bob,” the narrator says.

“Who’s speaking to me right now?” Bob asks, circling around to find the perpetrator. 

“We finally meet, Bob,” the narrator says.

“What, I don’t understand, who are you?” 

“Bob grasps at his hair with both hands in frustration.” The narrator commentates on Bob’s movements, then the narrator proceeds to respond to Bob’s question, “uh… I am God, I’m here to govern your fate.” 

“What?” 

“Bob says in confusion,” The narrator says.

“Why are you...will you please stop that, I can hear you talking about me,” 

“Bob is slightly agi–” 

“Seriously!”

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop, but you have already ruined the storyline. You were meant to be in the office by now, searching for your missing coworkers. Then you go on this epic adventure to find them. But look what you've done now, running about, not knowing what you’re doing, making a fool out of me and you. It sure sucks how I can’t control all your actions, I mean, who orders a styrofoam cup of lukewarm water at a coffee shop anyways?” the narrator comments.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“Without me, you would not have a sense of purpose, I’m giving you purpose is all. But nevermind that, this whole story has gotten nowhere, it is rather very dull right now. I might as well just create a new scene.” Now Bob stands in the middle of a dark dungeon. He must get past several treacherous obstacles in order to escape. 

“What, what is this, why am I here?” 

“Please, would you just go along with it, or… you will die!”

“But why?”
“Shut your face!” Bob comes upon a severed path, what lays ahead is a deep void that stretches down indefinitely, he shall make a daring jump to get to the other side.

“This is not happening…” Bob panics. He backs up, sprints towards the void, and with a brave leap–he misses and falls to his death. 

“Oh, really now,” the narrator cries out, “you’re my main character, my only character, you’re not supposed to die. Would’ve been way easier if this was first person narration. Whatever, it doesn’t matter now.” Let us return to the city and meet uh… Job. 

Job is much more interesting than Bob because he has a heartbreaking backstory. Both his parents are dead and he is an orphan at a young age, very tragic. After a casual day’s stroll through the street, he walks into his office and realizes that everyone is gone… 

The narrator stops and lets out a disgruntled sigh. This is just not the same, why does it have to be me to narrate these people? How come they are granted a voice to guide them but I am not? But wait, what if I have someone looking over me as well, what if I’m being told what to say and what to do, how to act and how to think, what if my every word is currently being thought of and written out at this very mom–

“What a pain in my buttocks, let us begin anew,” I said.