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Dear World

Please Kill Me,

Ever felt like you were meant for more?

Not fame or fortune or fetishistic fantasies—just…MORE.

I have a particular memory, post-college, sitting alone, hungry, unemployed, and facing the mad march of adulthood. I was depressed (as many get in that seat) and wondering where I’d gone wrong. This isn’t a “woe is me” thing, nor a “pity the poor” party, but a feeling that dug in and stuck.

It’s still with me now–warm, somewhat okay, and chasing fleeting moments of rest. Even at a safe distance, the thought gives me anxiety (…and too-fond machinations of traipsing through thundering traffic)—again, not a pity-party. Don’t feel bad.

That feeling inspired “The Orb.”

Back in those days, when dinosaurs roamed the Earth (instead of Congress), I responded as too many do—DISTRACTION. I reduced my once-promising future to “…guess I’ll get a job I hate, drunk, married, then take it all out on my kids.” That was obviously a BAD PLAN. Fortunately, ‘Writing’ found me in the mud and picked me back up where I’d fallen. I avoided passing on disappointment. No kids (THANK GOD… if I have any, I’m unaware and they have a TERRIBLE FATHER).

It was a cosmic favor that didn’t give me TOO MUCH, but enough to avoid being roadkill. I realized that the inspiration was ALWAYS there–waiting for me to arrive. When I did, it brightened the path ahead. I was just too distraught to see it before that. Too angry. Too scared. Too ALONE. Oddly enough, the torturous mix compelled me to investigate, interrogate, and DECIDE. Decide to live. Decide not to die. Decide that if I MUST GO, let it be chasing something that I deem worthwhile.

I became more concerned with moving my feet than crossing a finish line.

That got me thinking. 

I couldn’t be alone in that feeling. NO FUCKING WAY. Turns out I was right about that.

It was far from just me and my generation. I discovered that the decision to live amidst disillusion was akin to a dark rite of passage. So, as Writers do, I thought of a metaphor that might more clearly depict the phenomenon. A light… A glowing allusion to unrealized potential.

I was a bit too young at the time (…and FAR TOO RAW) to actually sit down and write it. Like so many of those early ideas, and the “let’s kiss traffic” feeling, the premise stuck, but I moved on. I returned to the idea later, every few months, and every few months, I saw it more clearly. Every expanded perspective led to expanded interrogation.

What if my protagonist didn’t have the luxury of ‘doom and gloom’ and instead lay dormant, in wait, in pain, but too pressured to process the feelings? What would that look like? What does that feel like? And, of course, my FAVORITE QUESTION—what kind of world gives us that scenario? What kind of people? What kind of options? What kind of society?

*Sidenote: If you’re in a dark spot, play ‘good-cop/bad-cop’ with your thoughts.* 

YMMV, but sometimes it’s best to plant your feet and face the dragon.

I had THAT thought around twenty-five. 

By then, I’d already jumped into the mess with both writerly feet.

“IT’S A STORY,” I screamed at the wall. “NOT A FAIRYTALE!” Writing is therapy, but it’s not always wise to neglect informing, entertaining, and meaning.

The following thoughts concerned dense ruminations on kicking my Lead into gear—it had to be a MOMENT! A defining few minutes that forced their soul to surface (in a similar way to how writing affected me, but more IMMEDIATE. More PROFOUND. More DEFINITIVE!). The short story form felt the most impactful–without overtreading well-worn ground.

I had something to say about something specific: THE LIGHT!

That glowing and growing metaphor that I carried with me like debt.

When you live honestly (…or as close as you can), the universe conspires in your favor—right in front of our eyes, yet outside of our view. It wants to see what we do. What we CHOOSE. WHO WE ARE when PUSH comes to SHOVE. Who we are when we choose DESTINY over DOOM.

That’s what “The Orb” is. A hopeful reckoning of that feeling (…that I hope makes those in waiting feel seen). That feeling sticks because it’s the light calling us to a future. Believe that THAT FREEDOM will RING…

–it’s best to answer when it does.

Until Next Time,

—Antwan Crump

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It began with a spark…

Since the day he was born, Damon Payne has been haunted by a curious phenomenon: a growing, glowing orb of pale white light that shadows his every move…it got old fast. 

Now a disillusioned adult, burdened by cyclical struggle in a cynical world, Damon has been reduced to compliance by a system designed to crush his spirit. However, when a chance encounter forces Damon to act, the orb reveals a once-hidden power that alters his destiny.

From the writer of Apostate, Butterflies, and The Suicide Pod, The Orb is a thought-provoking and darkly hopeful meditation on social pressure, potential, and power. For fans of Crump’s singular vision and signature flair, this latest offering stands at the crossroads of magical realism and noir science fiction.