I am followed. Words follow me around they are in the shadows of my mind. They play at my thoughts and taunt my dreams. All day lexicon begs me to write. My imagination drips with endless characters. They waltz into my lessons marching like ghosts between my students. They look back at me their silent faces and pleading eyes watch me while their bodies are covered in word vomit. Places they wish to be from, settings I will one day write.
I feel some thing wet splash across my face, and I look down at my toes. I see the words rain, and storm rolling across the carpet like tiny army ants. i stare back at my students, can they see the words too? The words they are haunting me. On my way home darkness cowers around me. Black, vile, ominous— is this another story trying to fight its way onto the pages of my notebook? Everywhere I look, the images are replaced with words.
I can no longer see a leaf. The leaf is covered with the words: floating, crisp, Autumn, golden, dying. The word demons follow me. They Invade my every breath. Until I only breathe in words and everything else has left me, and now I write.