Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #20 November 2015 | Page 60

The Curse of Anansi By Thomas David Parker I was bored. I looked at the clock on the wall to see that only thirty-five minutes had passed, but it felt like I had spent my entire evening stuck in that room. I had gone to an evening lecture at the local community centre. The lecture was called ‘The Origins of Creativity’, and I thought it would be an insightful talk on creative inspiration. However, I was completely wrong. What I was actually subjected to was an elderly speaker wittering on about some West African god called Anansi. Now, unfortunately, I have no interest in spirituality, but I felt it rude to walk out in the middle, so I was politely waiting for it to end. The speaker had a long white beard, wore ethnic mystic-looking robes and had a wistful voice. It was hard to take him seriously, he looked like Dumbledore. But it wasn’t just the way he looked, it was the absolute drivel he was spouting as well. He was talking about the power of words, language, and text. How they were all ways of imparting knowledge and were one of the reasons that humans have the edge over all other animals. He explained that stories were a core part of how we understand things and make sense of the world. And, as the only animals that are able create fiction, we have the unique ability to understand life beyond ourselves. “But where did this power to create stories come from?” He asked. “Could it be a supernatural influence?” The answer to this question, according to the speaker, was ‘yes’. He said that all stories belonged to a god, who was called Anansi, and it was this god who chose which people would become storytellers. Apparently it was a great honour to be chosen, but those that didn’t accept the gift they had been given, or didn’t take their role seriously enough, would soon lose that gift and struggle to create stories in the future. The speaker told the audience that if they wanted to be writers then the best way to receive inspiration was to pray to Anansi. Faith was the key to success. I must confess I phased out for a bit at this point. Philosophy can be very interesting, but this was just nonsense. The idea that we don’t have control over what we create was a load of crap. I had studied the mechanics of storytelling, I had studied grammar and language, and I had gone out into the wider world and experienced life. That was inspiration, not some god who talked to us in our sleep. Fiction is a commentary on our lives. I get that. I