Choice

I usually write in a way that would make my audience begin to imagine that they are actually reliving the experiences that I go through. Not just looking through my eyes, nor just taking a glimpse into my mind. I want you dear reader to _be_ my story.

When I write anything, I imagine myself facing you so that I can see you smiling as I raise my hand to hold yours.

"Come", I say, " to my world", as I slowly start walking backwards holding your hand and pulling you out of your inertia.

It first seems as if I a walking backwards, then you realize that the rhythm of my footsteps were never there.
My gentle leading has become a tug. Then a pull. Then it becomes a force that strains the grasp I have on you.
The world besides you becomes a blur as we hurtle down paths unseen, unheard, unfelt, and unspoken - until the time I chose to go there.
And then suddenly we are in the place where I want you to know, so I let go of your hand. As you scrable frantically to claw your way back to me, I push you heartlessly into the place that you must see, as I disappear to become the narrators voice in a story who's protagonist has just arrived on the scene.

There are some things that I write that would make sense to only those people who have a vivid imagination. And then there are times when my imagination is strong enough to drag you kicking and screaming into my world.

What I am trying to say is that sometimes you have a choice... And sometimes you dont.