Man v. Self is when the main character in the story has a problem with him or herself. It may involve characters having to make decisions (such as which path to take or what clothes to wear), or involving a "guilty consience" or moral issues.

A Man vs. Man conflict can be described as a conflict arising between two or more characters of the same kind. An example of this might be a fist fight between two people. Such as the Protagonist (main character) vs. the Antagonist (villain or someone who's against the protagonist).

Man vs. Society is a literature theme in fiction in which a main character (or characters) thinks differently from society or has different concepts than what most people think. An example is that society says it's wrong to steal so, you must not steal, but in some man or people stealing is what they do everyday but that is not what society believes is right.


Man v. Nature is the theme in literature that places a character against forces of nature. Many disaster films focus on this theme, which is predominant within many survival stories. It is also strong in stories about struggling for survival in remote locales.

Man v. Supernatural is a type of literary conflict in which the character is pitted against elements outside of the natural realm. These include encounters with ghosts, extraterrestrials, external spiritual experiences, and other unexplained occurrences.

Man v. Machine/Technology is a conflict between a man and mechanical antagonists or the mechanization of society in general.

Man v. Destiny (or Fate) is a theme in which one attempts to break free of a predetermined path before him chosen without his knowledge. It can also be referred to as a conflict between fate and freewill.

Time; Janus-like, two sided being stalking or, at times, dancing forth whirling characters in a dance eons old, pushing, shoving, or twirling people into situations just for the fun of seeing how it all turns out. I envision Time as a colorful character, frenzied or at other times, relaxing by a fire chortling over the chaos it wrought.

Time would dog Samantha and Chris, sometimes snapping at their heels, urging them farther and faster, and at other times dragging at them as if with a leash woven of circumstance, missed cues and honor. Cogs would move forward but click into place an iota out of sync and then, patiently sit and watch as events unfolded, as if daring them to still make everything work out.

It was time that had the cab arrive just at the exact time that would place Christoph at the airport just early enough for him to take that extra moment to breathe in the air of Paris that one last time, to cause him to linger a minute or two more before taking the step that would propel him into the bustling world of the airport thus whisking him away from Samantha. And in those few seconds, the pickpocket took advantage of the distracted tourist, making off with some three hundred dollars American in the wallet where the most precious treasure was Samantha's phone number and address; a worthless piece of paper to the pickpocket who dropped it and it fluttered away to rest in a gutter.

It was time that eased into Samantha such that she too lingered, for another cup of coffee and then for some conversation with another American, a wife waiting for her husband who was conveniently late. Their easy give and take of places visited, sights seen and the fact that they were from the same state had Sam quickly flipping through pages in her notebook and scribbling an address on a blank sheet, not noticing in her excitement, perhaps, or in her hurry, that it was also the back of the page where Christoph had written his information and where he'd been sure it was safe.

She handed the slip of paper to the tourist and ran off to the class she was now in danger of being late for. She didn't notice she'd left her jacket behind, nor did she see the woman look after her, consider and then crumple the page into a ball and toss it in the trash, figuring that she and the woman didn't really have all that much in common after all, and besides, here was her husband finally arriving.

Time curls and stretches. Another woman, seeing the jacket left behind, and ignored by the woman who threw the address in the trash, wandered over a few moments later and took the jacket, well-worn denim, with all sorts of souvenir material either pinned or sewed to it and thought how much her daughter would enjoy it. She tucked it into her bag, left her half-filled cup of coffee on the table and strolled off to find a few other trinkets to bring home. She would be long gone when Samantha, rushing back to look for her jacket, appeared.

It would be that evening when Samantha realized that she'd torn out the piece of paper from her notebook, the one sheet in hundred that had Christoph's name and address on it, where she would try in vain to see the impression left behind when he wrote it. But, she would console herself knowing her had her info and would contact her.

Christoph realized his wallet was missing while on the plane. He'd had his passport and ticket in his jacket pocket and thus, it wasn't until he reached for his wallet to pay for a drink, that he realized it was missing. Slumping down in his seat, he drifted off to sleep knowing that Samantha would contact him and thus it was more of an aggravation, than a catastrophe.

Time conspires. Within the next few weeks, Christoph would hear his country's call and respond to the draftboard and leave for basic training without yet having heard from Samantha. Samantha, having told her mother that she realized she was pregnant was now off on her own and disconsolate having not heard from Christoph and having her mother irrationally throw her out.

Yet time was not always capricious. There were times when a sheer second delay would have Christoph, deep in a Viet Nam jungle, be millimeters away from a killing shot and thus live, although with amnesia instead of dying on the jungle floor or when Samantha would be in the right time and place to meet the man who would fall in love with the pregnant woman and marry her anyway. Or when time would have two people a continent away peruse the same auction catalog at the same time and reach a similar conclusion.

Time; Janus-like, would play for forty years with these lives, but through a series of interconnected events that seemingly were not connected, would eventually let the players reconnect and then sit back and let the story play out, a time of joy and love where there was yet, time enough for all concerned.