Sunday, March 7, 2010


I inched my way along the rabbit tunnel. Somehow there was always enough light to see and I never knew where it came from. It was my emotional state that caused my slow progress, and as a result I kept my eyes down. So I almost missed seeing the next person in my venture. She had perched herself up above eye level in a small alcove. She was dressed in a white, high necked dress. Her large brown eyes peered at me as though they could read my secrets. Her full mouth appeared to be holding back a smile.
“Hello,” I said. “Who are you?”
“Come now. You don’t know, Mr. Storyman? I’m surprised, a student of literature…” She let the words trail off.
I shook my head.
“Emily,” she said as her lips twitched up for an instant.
Ah yes. I knew her. “I’m glad to meet you Miss Dickinson,” I said. “I admire your work.”
“Thank you. I must say you look… I’m not sure… frightened, unsure. You need confidence. A bit of verve to bolster your attitude.”
Her eyes had seen inside. “And you’re going to give that to me?”
“Hardly. You must invigorate yourself. Just remember that hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul— sings the tunes without the words— and never stops at all.”
I wondered. Was there more? Hope, huh? I guess that’s it. Better than insecurity to bedevil my psyche. If there’s anything else, or even if there’s not, you’ll find it on my web page at: . Until next time that’s it from the Storyman.

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