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// story pitch: Jack of no trades, master of all? 
// Story: What If... 
// by TheMajorTechie 
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Here I stand, the one above all.

No one above me, yet still I feel small.

Born rich, sheltered life.

Constant boredom, internal strife.





I set down the quill. That worked, right? Poetry seemed to be an option worthy of one as high of stature as myself. But... was it enough? 

A man, raised for the sole purpose of ruling. That's what I am. That's what I was. That's... what I must be.

Yet, day after day, nothing comes to pass. The world is at peace. I am but a figurehead; the representative of all. I have no trades. No true interest, be it hobby or career. To be neutral is my task, day after day.

I have to be this man.

Nobody else can replace me. Everybody else has tried.

And so day after day, I wake and do nothing. It is my job, after all.

Yet... I still long for excitement, deep within me. The idea of grandiose adventures, or perhaps of meeting new people--it entices me. I want to do something. Be someone.

But I cannot.

I'm not allowed to.

I wasn't born to be that.

The Jack of No Trades. That's who I am. The Master of All. That is me as well. The two work hand-in-hand; specialize in nothing--that is the way. That is how I maintain neutrality. They call me a living god; one who stands above the humdrum of so-called 'normal' life. But they do not understand that I am sick of this false godhood. Just for a day, or even an hour, perhaps, I wish to stand amongst the crowd. I wish to fade into obscurity, to flit between the shadows. To be a nobody. To be a somebody. 

To finally be a Jack of One Trade.

But even then, I would not know what such a trade would be. These words flow like waves; they come and go, bringing me hope with their crests, and despair with their troughs. 

Every utterance of these wishes I hold must be counteracted with doubt.

It is, after all, the only way I know.

And so continues my life as the Jack of No Trades, Master of All.