Tuesday, December 6, 2016

Christmas Time is Near at Hand


As I was saying, once upon a time I had an imagination.  I used to make up all sorts of stories in my head and later I would eagerly write my “story” on paper.  Today I can formulate a brief timeline to a story but I rarely get it on paper because somehow I got myself pigeonholed into thinking I should write non-fiction.  How presumptuous.  My niche, I think, is still in the world of fiction as I look at the passenger across the seat from me and create a hidden life for this innocent soul who has just become a drug addicted psychopath in my mind simply because she has dark circles under her eyes and a tattoo behind her ear.
Every Christmas the family enters their private writing contest in the hopes of creating entertainment after the gifts are opened and the dessert is yet a dream away.  I have yet to win the contest of ‘best entry’ and I go to bed admiring a niece, nephew or brother who has made us all life or cry.  Every year I try a new twist but somehow the family seems to know me too well, they seem to guess almost as soon as I begin the tale.  Darn, how predictable.  This year I will foil them all, I say each year.
Once upon a time I had an imagination . . . I guess it really hasn’t gone away at all.

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