Words spun worlds in my head, and if I loosened the strings just enough, imagination bled into and sharpened the real world.
The elves were shy—a bit paranoid of grown-ups—but if I sat still and spoke softly, I knew they understood. I told them my secret. My knotted stomach ached so, knowing people would laugh. I wished to be a writer.
I’m older now, less concerned, writing, and relieved.
Picture is by Brian Henry Thompson (100 words)