I may have mentioned before that I had a transformative encounter with a scary movie as a child (and still don’t like Dutch Colonial architecture) and don’t enjoy horror. I don’t often read it or write it, at least not on purpose, but my sleeping mind sometimes forgets that.
I woke this morning with a six-word story in my head.
Go away! We buried you yesterday.
* * *
J.R., your sleeping mind is smarter than your waking resistance. Six words and there’s a whole story who came back, who buried them, why they thought it was permanent. All of it hanging in that doorway.
And somehow it matters that you didn’t choose to write this. It just arrived. That’s the real horror. Not what we create on purpose. What we create when we’re not watching. 💙