Possessed Wednesday March 19, 2014, 0 comments

I am restless. I have been restless before, but usually I don’t know why. Sometimes I do, like this time. This time I am restless because I can feel the story coming.

The stories come to me, streaming through the aether so fast and with such purpose that sometimes I can almost hear their passage.

When they come, it’s like being possessed. I am possessed by stories. They want – need! – be told. They come at a time of their own making, driven by some cosmic imperative they come and possess me like demons in a medieval child. I have no control over this.

The stories do not rest until I’ve told them, they do not let me rest until they have been told.

Some catharsis is achieved in the telling, some sense of completeness. When I’ve finally formed them to the best of my ability, they are exorcised, they are released. And then so am I.


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