Shadows are deceptive things, constantly changing and shifting. They jump and dance. They flow and, every once in a while, they pounce. A shadow attacked me once, or it tried to. Shadows can be fast but light can be faster. If not for my little beam of light the shadows might have had me that night and then there might be no story for me to tell. It was dark, there were no stars that night and the shadows were hanging in the trees, clinging to the branches. My path took me under one of those shadow covered trees and one of them jumped at me. My light kept it bay just long enough for me to get away, home safely.
Stories are light in the darkness. Stories are shadows beyond the light.
There is something wonderful about being alone. Even for a short amount of time when you can let the silence wrap around you. Of course there is never perfect silence. There is always the hum of some machine chugging along. But
to be away from the constant voices of people and the other sounds they mak