The unofficial epilogue of the period.

(Burst – A History of the Period by Trent Lewin can be found within the depths of Trent Lewin’s blog at Trent’s four-part series inspired this simple epilogue, while Trent himself inspired me to write. Nuff said.)

The simple dot at the end of this string of words is a distant descendant of that heroic armless period which rose into existence before the invention of the first closed fist. Small and round-bodied, seemingly insignificant, greatly outnumbered by his one-armed half-brothers, the commas, who hardly let a word in edgeways, the simplicity of this dot is his greatest weapon. He always manages to have the last word. Almost…

“A weapon?” you may ask in disbelief, as if a tiny dot presented any kind of a target for attack. Yet there was indeed a mortal enemy, smudging at the edges of reality with a relish for obliterating small dots.

Before the History of the Period, this tiny dot of an ancient ancestor climbed a hill into the dying rays of a setting sun, to stake a claim to the planet in whose image he was shaped. The circle of the sun sank into the vast sphere of the horizon, and the dot felt at one with the roundness of his universe. As darkness once again threatened to overwhelm him, he called valiantly into the night sky with the whole of his being. With a great whooshing a billion dots ripped cleanly out of the blackness of space leaving a sparkling brightness sprinkled in their absence. In one moment, the dot amassed a billion friends on Earth, and conquered the vanquishing darkness.

For many years, the tiny dots lived without fear, until someone took a very close look at them. How round, how perfectly symmetrical, incomprehensibly so. Suddenly their numbers grew less as handfuls of them were plucked from the grassy hills to be enslaved in caves where they were glued on to the cold rocky walls to punctuate stories to little boys and girls who loved to stay up until the stars came out and twinkled.


How one of these ancient dots materialized on to an un-extraordinary sheep farmer’s manuscript, many centuries later in Pamir, no-one ever really came to know. A certain few guessed that the remaining handful of tiny dots in their fervent passion for freedom re-learned how to whoosh briefly upwards, in a great struggle against the gravity of their dwindling circumstances, and ride the thermal currents of the lower atmospheres, some landing here, some alighting there, at the whim and fancy of the fickle weather. Who is to say whether the sheep farmer’s simple mark may have been blown in, shivering, on a snowy gust of wind, happy to find rest in a natural position at the end of the farmer’s dying sentence.

So, the epilogue becomes a prologue… (This four part series eventually contains mature themes. Children check with your parents first.)

(To Trenton, I am sadly lacking in historical fact, and geographical location! It’s a start though, and I enjoyed it. How about a Part Five and the gracious return of a much appreciated gauntlet…)

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  1. Oh wow. I knew you could write from your comments, but you can also spin magic. There are some bang-on magical lines in this (“the planet in whose image he was shaped”, “stories to little boys and girls” and the image that evokes in the context, but nothing as good as “how to whoosh briefly upwards, in a great struggle against the gravity of their dwindling circumstances”). Well Anasera, you can write. Man can you write. I think you need to do so more often, although I have a feeling that you can come up with better topics than the crucible in which is forged the detritus that hangs between and terminates our words.

  2. Reblogged this on Trent Lewin and commented:
    After the stomach-churning nature of my last post, I have decided to chill. What better way to do that than with a new acquaintance? Here is a writer who has taken up the challenge of writing an epilogue to a little story about the history of that most under-rated punctuation mark, the period. If you have not met Wildersoul (real name Anasera), please say hi. She is a real writer, whatever her other talents.

  3. Awesome… I should try using just one of those dot things… sometime…

  4. Nice prepilogue…or whatever it is…either way it fits together well.

    Hope you’re doing ok 🙂


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