Sometimes it’s just a throb, a whisper of possibility lingering in the air. A pinprick of light in the distance, beckoning like a siren’s call. It feels like slipped silk through the fingertips, a sensation that quickens the pulse and sets the feet in motion. It’s the beginning of an obsession, a magnetic force pulling you ever closer.

You find yourself sitting at the open window, gazing at the elusive dream just beyond the boundary of your fence. The true meaning reveals itself when you take that first step—act swiftly, for it won’t linger indefinitely. The story begins as a mere whisper, a small string of words that grows into a symphony of emotions and experiences.

Every day, you eke out a couple of pages, each word a step closer to the heart of the tale. As Miles Davis plays in the background, you feel yourself drawn into the world of your characters, their voices echoing through the woods, reaching out to entwine with your own.

People begin to live under your skin, their presence palpable, their stories demanding to be told. Sometimes, they scratch and call out to you, urging you to pick up a pen and etch their lives onto every surface, to immortalize their existence through your words.

But time is fleeting, and the story won’t wait. It’s a force that demands to be captured, a melody that must be sung. So, heed the call, embrace the throb, and let the words flow like a river, for the story is not going to wait here for you.

Copyright © Beatriz Esmer