I’m a freelance liar. I’m a storyteller at heart, a falsifier by nature. It’s in the job description. For a small price of nothing but your time and your suspension of disbelief, I will sit you down and tell you a story. I will lie to you. I will tell you about things that have never happened, spin a tale of deception designed to plant seeds of thought in your brain. I will steal into your mind like a thief in the night, my fabrications and falsifications like the cover of darkness as I enter your consciousness through my words. I will steal nothing, mind you: I am a different kind of thief, one that gives rather than takes.
It will hit you afterwards; it may strike you the next morning as you sit up in bed, or it may sink in slowly, gradually settling into its new home and redecorating over time as it pleases. You will find something that was not there before, a suggestion or a notion, unfamiliar as a new pair of shoes. But eventually something will happen, something you could never have prepared for:
You will settle into it.
You will question the unquestionable, think the unthinkable. You will stretch the boundaries of your mind, the limits of your thoughts. My words will provoke you, poke and prod you, leave a pit in your stomach. They will shake and shatter your sanctum, and heighten your horizons. You will see things you’ve never seen before, do things you could never have imagined doing. You will change.
I am a freelance liar, and for the small price of your time and your suspension of disbelief, I will tell you a story, a story that just might change your life.
But first you have to listen.