I saw something new. There I was, making my way down the aisle, running
my hand over the aged books I’ve touched a thousand times, when I came
across a leather bound book I couldn’t name. My curiosity led me past
the saturated binding, to here. I lay at the entry point; the front
matter, the last chance to turn back before turning forward; the last
warning that, after turning, I will fall into the world of another’s
imagination. Where, upon entry, will I fall?
Maybe I will fall atop a horse galloping across the baked earth of the
great American West, a sheriff badge pinned to my chest, leather boots
encasing my feet, and a large brimmed hat shielding my face. I can feel
dust settling into the crow’s feet bunched around my squinted eyes. I
ride alone.
Perhaps I will fall into a prohibited underground bar. The lights are
low. A stage overlooks a sea of people dancing and chatting around
small, circular tables. A young woman glides across the stage like silk
in the wind as her song narrates the liveliness of the room, its pace
complementing the clink of glasses knocking together and the click of
heels across the tiled floor. I live for these nights; the laughter and
twirling dresses and all that jazz.
Or, maybe I will land amidst a nightmare. It is dark and I am outside.
The coolness of the night is only partially contributing to the chill
running down my spine. In this forest of ivy-covered trees I have been
running, hiding, and running. Ivy is great at providing shelter for
wildlife, but it is better at concealing the unwelcome. I see the knife
as it catches the moonlight just before…