It was the winter break of my 8th grade year. I wasn’t a very known person on the ski hill and I didn’t have good style either. But skiing was my passion. It was a powdery day, best for skiing. I remember convincing my parents to take me to the ski hill, even though they said it was far too dangerous to drive. The moment I arrived at the ski hill I knew it was an amazing day for skiing. As I stepped in the snow I sunk down like quicksand. The snow was so deep I could barely put my skis on. The snow clumped on the bottom of my boots. It made me three inches taller. 

During all this a kid from my school, Cam, who had brown hair and mean brown eyes, who everyone tried to avoid, started skiing towards me. Cam always made fun of me for my skis and my jacket because they weren’t name brands. He was the type of person to make fun of you for anything. I knew Cam was about to cause a problem so I acted like I didn't see him and started skiing towards a different lift. He sped up and eventually caught up to me. The snow was so thick I could go anywhere. Skiing past me, Cam pushes me over and skis away. I fall into the snow with a quiet thud. The snow was so deep and thick it held me down like vines. I sank deeper, deeper and deeper. As I struggle to pull myself out I look up to see my friend Charlie, who is a lot older and stronger than me, pick me up out of the snow. I looked up to Charlie because he could land some insane tricks. I wanted to learn these tricks one day. I thanked him and we skied off to the terrain park. Meanwhile Cam is sending backflips off a jump. He's been trying for years and still hasn’t landed. I’ve only tried once and I failed miserably. I contemplated on trying again but Cam saw me looking and said, “You’ll never land one in your life”. I lost all my confidence at that moment. Charlie then says, “Don’t listen to him, he's been trying for two years and still hasn’t gotten close”. He then encouraged me to full send it and in that moment I started my run up gaining speed, deep breaths, right up to the jump I close my eyes as I flip through the air, wind swooshing by, I think to myself "this is about to end up like last time and I should have never tried. This will be another reason for Cam to bully me". I wait for my skis to hit the snow and send my face into the snow ,but then, I don’t. I felt my skis land and glide across the snow. I opened my eyes. I landed my first ever back flip! 

Right after landing Charlie and many others start celebrating with me. Including the one person who doubted me, Cam. I knew if I said anything he would cause more problems so I didn’t. Afterwards, they showed me the video. It was so sick. I then helped Cam by telling him what he needed to do to land the backflip. He tried but failed. I kept encouraging him to send it and he eventually landed. I remember skiing down as the first person to celebrate with him. Cam and I resolved conflict by landing insane tricks. From then on we sent backflips together never having a problem between each other again. In conclusion, don’t judge a book by its cover. Or, in this story, don’t judge a skier based on their style.  

I remember when I was eight, and sitting in the wooden chair that always made your bum hurt if you sat there for too long, and after it felt like an eternity staring at those green walls when finally my hairdresser came in the kitchen and I said, “Chop it off.”

For my whole life I always had hair down to my waist, or even my thighs. My hair was a brown, tangled and matted greasy mess that I always kept in a braid down my back. Around every two months, my mom’s friend Monica would come to our house and cut a half an inch of my and my sister's long hair. Monica would always cut a little more off than my mom would approve of because I've always dreamed about having short hair, but of course that would be my mom’s worst nightmare. 

In August of 2019, I was back in that wooden chair, staring at the wall and swatting a fly buzzing around me. Monica walked up to me, and my mom headed to the bathroom, and she said to me, “How much do you want off this time MB?” As always, I would smile, and point to my shoulder jokingly. Monica gave me a mischievous smile, and said, “Your wish is my command.” I shut my eyes as she wet my hair. The mist hits my ear and makes me shiver, then she does a quick brush through, and then snip... sniip... sniiip...

My mom walked in, and looks like she's seen a ghost. She said, “What happened?” with a quiver in her voice sounding like she wants to cry. Monica looked up with a grin. I asked if it looked good. Monica eventually finishes my hair and shows me; I was amazed, with my side bangs and shoulder length hair. My mom loved it, but was still upset with me. There I was, swinging my feet and holding a footlong braid, looking like the happiest kid ever. 

To this day, I still think about that memory when I get my hair cut, and when my mom tells me, “Not too much this time.” Sometimes when I see Monica, I’d jokingly say, “Chop it off,” just to get a laugh out of her. Even now, I’m glad I made that decision.

Stuck up. That is what they called me. You have the nerve to talk about other people behind their backs and bully them to their faces. You beat their pride and bruised their confidence, and yet you call them arrogant? You ever wonder why we seem conceited? It’s because of people like you! You are the reason people act “stuck up” or “antisocial” or “weird”. In reality, we’re not. You have damaged our self confidence because someone has damaged yours, and now we feel the need to build ourselves back up so we can try to impress you. You are still not impressed. We are antisocial because you call us freaks and ignore us as we try to speak. You don’t hear us. We are weird because we don’t fit your normal, as we try. But, we shouldn’t have to change ourselves to impress you. We are ‘weird’ because we have different interests. We are ‘antisocial’ because you don’t talk to us, and we are afraid of being bullied for talking. We are all kinds of things, things that you don’t see. We are intelligent, we are talented, we are beautiful and handsome, we are what you are not. And you dare judge us for such differences? You dare call us ‘stuck up’ as you do a catwalk down a dog kennel! As you tune us out when we try to tune you in! As you mock us after you caused us pain and misery! We are not the ones who are stuck up. I sit and watch you as you perfectly perfect your staged lines-- oh, your bittersweet act. One minute you’re giving someone compliments and the next you’re stabbing their back for being different. Well, I tell you, you are stuck up! You expect us to be like you, and we have tried for so long. But after watching you walk with boots on the prickly surface we have walked barefoot, we decide we do not want to be like you. Because we have suffered far more than you will ever know. Now, as we continue to walk on the edge, we realize we are enough. We are all enough! Now, to you I say ‘fall and drown in your own molasses stickiness’ as to the others of us, the underdogs, the weirdos, the antisocials, the intelligents, the different, I say, "Rise Up!" Stuck up. We are not stuck up. We are rising up. And your sad attempts to put us down are no longer working. We are invincible. You….are stuck up. 

Nendone 10: Star Date 2000

“Is that all you got?” Duke asked as he pinned me to the ground and held his sword against my chest sideways as I struggled to push him off. My tribe, Trius II, has been at war with Duke’s tribe, Locust IV, for thousands of years. An ongoing civil war for power. Both tribes possessed supernatural abilities, but it has been prohibited until recently. Surprisingly, Duke decided not to use his on me this time. 

“No!” I said fiercely, using my telekinesis to lift a large rock and fling it at Duke, knocking him off of me and unconscious. 

“Buck!” Motor, my caretaker and fellow alien called. “Look up!” 

Motor was from another planet, LAO 4, and was a life form, much like me, but in a vehicular form. 

I followed Motor’s command and looked upwards at the large vortex, black hole, above my planet. 

“Mother!” I exclaimed, rushing up to my mother, Queen Lue III. “What are we going to do?” 

“My beautiful baby,” Mother said. “I know this is difficult. But you must go. You must live on. This black hole will soon destroy us. You are our only hope.”

“But mother!” I pleaded. “I do not wish to leave. I must fight.”

“No, Buck,” Mother said. “You must go. Motor will care for you. Please….you must….go.”

Suddenly Mother collapsed. I felt the energy draining from my body as well. 

“Come on,” Motor said. “We have to go now, Buck. The vortex will drain all of your energy soon, and you will die off much like everyone else.”

I hesitated. “Buck, no. Come on. NOW.”

I agreed and got into Motor's cabin. His wings extended out from under his chassis and his rocket boosters came out of the rear. Then, we were off the planet. The last thing I remember was seeing Nendone 10 being ripped brutally apart by the vortex. 

One Day Later

“Buck,” Motor said. “We’re approaching Earth. I think I’ve been to this planet before. A long time ago. With Sir Hemsworth.”

“How long?” I asked. 

“1959,” Motor answered. “However, it seems far more advanced now.” 

I looked out Motor’s windshield at the green and blue planet below us and watched as the ground got closer until we finally landed. I stepped out as a woman ran into me, not even acknowledging my existence. 

“What shall we do?” I asked. “We will stick out like sore thumbs now.”

“Well,” Motor said. “Humans on this planet, about your age, usually go to school during the day and do leisurely activities on the weekends.”

“So that means I must go to an educational facility?” I asked. 

“Yes,” Motor said. “I will find the nearest one.” 

Motor tucked his wings back under his chassis and pulled up alongside the curb to the nearest educational facility. “Here we are,” he said, letting me out. “You are on your own until the end of the day, where I’ll come back and pick you up. Good luck, Buck.”

“Many thanks,” I said, taking a deep breath and walking into the school. 

“Hi,” a female human greeted me from the front desk. “How can I help?”

“Hello,” I said quickly, caught off guard. “My name is Buck Sentry, I’m a transfer student from….Nendone high school.”

“Where is that?” The lady asked. 

“It is in…Nebraska,” I said. 

“Oh,” the lady said, typing onto her computer. “Well, we don’t have any transfer notices for anyone named Buck from Nebraska, but I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you follow me and I’ll get you situated with a schedule?”

“That would be much appreciated,” I said. “Thank you.” 

“No trouble,” The lady said. “Come with me.”

The lady, who when she stood up was much taller than I had originally anticipated, must have been the dean of the school. As I followed her down the long corridor, I noticed her hair was tied into a greasy bun and she wore glasses that were too big for her face.

“Here we are,” she said, opening the door to a classroom. “Everyone, this is Buck. Buck, this is your Biology class. And your teacher, Mrs. Evermore.” 

“Oh how wonderful!” Mrs. Evermore said. “We’re just starting our frog dissection unit. Why don’t you go sit with…Paige. Paige, wave!”

Paige didn’t wave, she just simply said “sit”, so I did. 

“What is a frog?” I asked. 

“Dude,” Paige said. “Are you from another planet or something? How do you not know what a frog is?” 

I froze. “How did you know?!”

“What?” Paige asked. “Anyway, we’re supposed to cut open this frog and take its insides out, but I think that’s mean, so I’m not doing it.” 

“Loser,” a kid at the other table across from us said. “The frog’s dead. It won’t even notice.”

“Shut up, Billy.” 

Suddenly there was a loud chiiiiing that hurt my over sensitive ears. I looked up to see that everyone was leaving the room, and I assumed it was the end of the day. I walked down the corridor before Billy pushed me up against the locker. 

“Hey new guy!” He spat in my face. “You think you can just walk around looking all tough?”

“No,” I said. “I was not looking tough.” 

“Hey!” Paige said. “Leave him alone, Billy.”

Billy let go of me and turned to walk away. Paige grabbed my hand and helped me up. 

“I’m heading to the animal shelter,” Paige said. “Do you want to come?”

“Sure,” I said. “That sounds like the ginchiest idea.”

“Ginchiest?” Paige asked, raising an eyebrow. “Well. You certainly are an interesting one.”

“Do you not use that terminology any longer?” I asked.  

“No,” Paige said. “Usually we just say ‘cool’ or ‘awesome’.” 

“Oh,” I said. 

“Where did you say you were from?” Paige asked. 

“I am from Nendo-Nebraska! I am from Nebraska.” 

“That’s cool,” Paige said. “I’m from here. I’ve lived here in Vegas for my entire life. Do you have any family? Siblings? Parents?”

“Not anymore,” I said. “I live with my car-caretaker! My caretaker, Motor.”

“Oh,” Paige said. “I live here with my step dad. My dad disappeared when I was six, and my Mom died a few years ago from cancer.” 

“Oh,” I said. “I am deeply saddened to hear such terrible news.”

“Oh my God!”  Paige exclaimed, laughing. “Why do you talk like that?” 

“Like what?” I asked. 

“Like a nerd,” Paige said. “Talk normally.” 

“I do not understand what you are-”

“Buck!” I heard Motor shout as he pulled up alongside me. 

“Motor!” I snapped. “Now is not a good time. I am having a discussion.”

“Wait,” Paige said, stopping. “That’s a motor? He’s a car! What are you hiding, Buck Sentry?”

“Well if you must know,” I said. “I am a life form from the planet of Nendone 10. Motor here has been my caretaker. My tribe is…was at war for a long time, with a neighboring tribe. Until a vortex…black hole…it destroyed my planet. As far as I know, I am the last remaining Nendonian.” 

“An alien?!” Paige asked. “No. Way. This is so awesome! I can’t wait to tell everyone and…umph-”

“No!” I hissed, placing a hand over Paige’s mouth. “You must not tell anyone. I will be sent to a lab and dissected. That is what happened to Kingston.”

“Okay!” Paige said, throwing her hand up. “I won’t tell!” 

“Thank you,” I said. “Now. I do believe Motor and I need a place to stay.” 

“Hmm,” Paige said, stroking her chin. “You can’t stay with me. My dad doesn’t let men in the house. But I know a place, a good one.” 

“This?” I asked. “It is much…cleaner…than I expected.” 

“Yeah,” Paige said. “I stay here a lot. It helps me think. Anyway, make yourselves at home. Wait, do you have any superpowers?”

“No.” 

“Oh.” Suddenly something came flying towards me, and with a swift move of my fingers, it was re-directed. 

“So you do have powers!” Paige exclaimed. “Telekinesis. What else?” 

“I fly,” I said. “And I can become invisible, except not often. It drains much of my energy. Are those not normal human traits?”

“No!” Paige said. “That’s so cool though.  You’ll have to show me sometime. Anyway, goodnight.”  Paige turned and left. 

“Is that your girlfriend?” Motor asked in his usual nonchalant voice. 

“No!” I said, not even sure if it was the correct answer. “She is merely a companion.” 

“Sure,” Motor said. “But now, Nendone is destroyed. You don’t have a home. I don’t have a home.” 

“Earth will have to be our home now. And we’ll protect them from what threatens their planet.” 

Buck Sentry? Interesting. Bring him to me. I need a new experiment.  

To Be Continued...

Ontology as a term is defined as a branch of philosophy concerned with the nature of being, identity, and existence, and becomes a powerful narrative tool when applied to literature and storytelling. The natural questions that come with the topic being a pinch of flavor to add onto the inquiry of existence. Authors use ontological themes to illuminate a character’s inner life, frame their existential questions, complicate their understanding of reality, deepen the philosophical dimensions of a fictional world, along with elaborating on a character’s traits, psyche, and psychological profiles. By exploring how characters interrogate their perception of reality, grapple with their existential purpose, define their identity, develop worldbuilding, and use self-awareness in the story is how authors are able to construct narratives that reflect deeper philosophical inquiries. Thus, ontology in literature becomes a powerful tool for examining not only fictional worlds but all the human condition itself.

One of the most prominent ways ontology appears in literature is through the existential dilemmas of characters as they confront their own existence and identity. For example, Shakespeare’s Hamlet offers a quintessential example of an author using the topic of Ontology in a way to formulate a psychological story. In Hamlet’s Act III soliloquy, the scene is in the form of a target, where Hamlet talks to himself and monologues about his conflict, with parts of the dialogue containing some ontological undertones. The famous line “to be or not to be: that is the question,” along with other pieces of dialogue, shows how Hamlet’s situation provoked such ontological reflection. To be a person who questions the meaning of life and how it coincides with the terrifying reality of death and the afterlife. And how, even if he considered death and the satisfaction it would bring from the heartaches he’s had, the apprehension towards the unearthly unknown is a reason why humans choose to endure such hardships. Through such an introspective journey, literature uses ontology as a way to shape how a character reflects on the deeper philosophical tensions of the human experience.

Beyond character development, ontology plays a crucial role in how fictional universes are constructed and how the rules of existences are defined. This concept often manifests through the story’s worldbuilding and its effect on the story’s constitution. In worlds shaped by manipulation and hegemonic structures, characters are often forced to engage in self-reflection on their place within these systems. A famous example of this is the movie The Truman Show. The way The Truman Show portrays this concept is how Truman slowly comes to an understanding in the movie about his utter reality and existence as a whole. The story does this by containing multiple scenes in the movie that start Truman off as an average guy who works an average life and has friends. But once the cracks in the sky start to show is when the movie has a more existential and psychological undertone. This underlying theme leads to Truman becoming increasingly unhinged, paranoid, and acting completely out of character as a way to cope and navigate his disillusionment. This is most prominent in the scene where Truman is doing donuts in the parking lot while the world is emanating screams of confusion. The story uses the world and Truman to reveal how the world might look from a nontraditional, philosophical perspective, and beyond conventional perception. In this case, ontological themes challenge the characters and the audience to reconsider the very structure of reality.

Metafiction takes this exploration even further by giving characters direct awareness of their fictional status. This technique collapses the boundary between fiction and reality, creating a sense that the characters are not only subjects of a narrative but observers of it. When narrators break the fourth wall or comment on their own narrative construction, the boundary between fiction and reality deliberately dissolves. If someone understands that they are merely a construct, their purpose, autonomy, and identity must be reinterpreted through that lens. Therefore, this creates a unique ontological tension: if a fictional character knows they are a construct, what does “existence” mean for them? Slaughterhouse-Five embodies this idea through its fragmented structure and time-bending narrative. The protagonist’s looping journey through trauma becomes not just a war story but an ontological awakening, one that questions not only how someone can exist within a story but how stories themselves exist. This metafictional framing allows the story to explore trauma, memory, and survival through an ontological lens, with Billy navigating not only the horrors of war but the instability of existence itself. In this way, metafiction uses self-awareness to raise ontological questions about identity, agency, and the nature of being within a fabricated universe.

In conclusion, ontology in literature provides a profound framework through which authors investigate existence, identity, and the nature of reality. Whether through the introspective crisis of Hamlet, the unsettling artificiality of Truman’s world, or the metafictional self-awareness of Slaughterhouse-Five, ontological storytelling urges readers to reflect on their own perceptions of being. These works highlight the instability, uncertainty, and complexity inherent to being, inviting readers to engage with questions that transcend the boundaries of the story. Literature thus becomes more than a vehicle for narrative entertainment; it becomes a philosophical instrument, prompting deep reflection on the nature of reality, the limits of perception, and the fundamental experience of being human. Literature, in this sense, becomes more than narrative entertainment—it becomes a philosophical exploration of what it means to exist.