“Just a verse”, she begged.
Sitting at the feet of the storyteller.
Staring up, looking for any gesture that would indicate his favor on her behalf.
He patted her hand and shook his head no.
Crushed, she sank into the ground where she sat.
Not being able to remove herself from his side, she decided then and there to be his champion.
She’d stay close and protect the quiet that he required to conjure his best work.
Instead of stories that day, she’d protect the quiet.
Hi friends! This little story came out of a pretty lengthy bought of writer’s block. I decided to run with it and this is what I got. I thought that I’d share that with you because it’s definitely something that the majority of us has dealt with at one time or another.
Thanks for stopping by!