Having It Out With Change
Despite the wondrous light in the grand foyer there were many shadows to hide in. My eyes gazed at each, waiting for the seemingly empty room to suddenly reveal it self for what it really was. A room with an occupant, and an important one at that. My suspicions proved to only be nerves, when Change – in his long hooded red robe – descended the staircase in front of me.
His face looked very much like a man. His golden hair hung straight just below his neck, and his earthy brown eyes held multiverses in their gaze.
“Your time has come,” said Change.
“So the sign said,” I answered.
“It’s waiting for you back home,” he said.
“What is?”
“Your destiny,” said Change, extending a hand. “Come, I’ll take you to it.”
“What is my destiny?” I asked.
Change smiled, but said nothing. He rose his hand a little higher, and I took it. Immediately there were swirls of blackness surrounding me. I slammed onto the carpet of my bedroom floor, knocking over my desklamp – dumping the sand in my zen garden all in my hair.
“Damnit, Change,” I said, but he wasn’t with me.
Change always hurts; one way or another… I heard in my head, and giggled despite myself.
I plopped myself down in front of my computer, and couldn’t help but noticing the stack of parchment papers on my desk. I knew what they were instantly. I’d written some of them myself. They were the pages to “The Taftkan Materials” – our novel – but I had left the book in Taftka! Rhiannon was supposed to work on it today.
Your time has come… the words reverberated in my mind.
I picked up my cell phone. I punched 42-314 and hit call – sending magic along with the signal.
“Hello?”
“Rhiannon, I have the story,” I said.
“Oh thank GOD!” she said. “I was scared half to death when I found all the pages missing in the book.”
“Yeah, I have them here,” I said. “I think I need to work on the story today.”
“It makes sense that it came to you,” said Rhiannon. “I could only vaguely see the next part.”
“But you inspired me with your notes,” I said. “I think this is going to come out easily.”
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Tags: Pure Imagination, Taftka, Writing
Joeysan's Head, The Taftkan Dailies | Joey | 
28 September 2009 4:30 PM
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