The Story Of My Mind

I have the elements needed to make the story, they ebb and flow down onto the very tips of my fingers.

They swim, then float, then flicker and fly. Slowly growing and changing as I make out the details that influence them all.

In my thoughts I have a character you would all adore. He is one so strong that you willingly stand in his corner though it all; helping him rise one minute and holding his hand as he flies the next. A slightly crooked nose in between strong cheekbones sitting below deep brown eyes. Those eyes don’t stop at just a spark of intelligence, but sing with the depth of wisdom and power. They glimmer with humour and are forever burning with the strong embers of kindness. The mop of soft brown curls that flop to one side when he moves his head add to the boyish charm. He would be tall, athletic and when he smiles it’s not just with his lips and eyes, you can see the happiness seep from every part of his being.

You couldn’t help but admire his honesty, his integrity, his honour. On top of this he would have a name that in every stroke of every letter his very nature would be conveyed. You can’t help but find him witty because he nails that sense of timing. It’s a skill knowing just how to deliver a line that cuts through the extremist of circumstance to the most panicked of person. The world could be falling around at his ankles and yet still I will hear laughter heard out loud as you read.

However, the most precious of moments to each of us would be the close minutes, the quiet ones, between just you and him. Those stretches of precious seconds make you dare to dream of his existence. The times when you know you could help and it’s your hand he needs to hold.

The plot, now that is something to behold. It is striking at the beginning, outrageous in a sense that immediately draws you in. You will be caught in the grip of its subversion as the claws of intrigue slowly sink in. Each turn of the protagonist will slowly unravel the tale; lulling one reader at a time like the lure of sleep to a babe. The story entwines the hopes, the wishes and the dreams of the character inexorably with your own. Each reader is relentlessly compelled to read on, read on.

The story is set in the most fitting of landscapes. The details will be lovingly laid out at every turn. The structure will be built from the letters off the page and held together with the mortar of your mind. Each detail in each crook and each cranny will have the light of words shined upon. It will be the tiniest of elements that will leave the strongest of impressions. Illustrations gradually exposed will leak from your mind’s eye and dribble down your arms until you swear you can feel the roughness of the wall on your very fingertips.

The words will flow across the page with magic concealed until you grasp that first page and merely read. Imagine moments of gasping air and wondrous faces, of tears dribbling then streaming down chins to words, of knuckles clenched at papers edge and laughter untapped ringing in the room.

Time will tick and tock at speeds unseen and yet none of you would notice.

You will turn the last page with dread and read those final words with apprehension. Each person would relate to the increasing feeling of demise that will grow within you. The page is dropped, the letters read, the claws of a tale must slowly extricate from your very soul. It is the end. There is no more and what a finish it will be.

This is the making of my story, the bones of its flesh: each component no further than just inside my head.