A story dances in the mind’s eye.
A storyteller conjures demons in the mind, and danger in the mid-day sun.
A mirage shimmers in the heat of a desert.
Tantalising images dance away in the heat.
What is real is not real.
Riddle of sight, sand, sun, mind.
A listener wonders where the horizon might be.
But, how joyous is re-union in a story of peril and danger for all.
How wondrous the exuberance of new love recently discovered.
How terrifying the advent of dragging footsteps.
A storyteller’s mind must dance to create the reality of imagination.
A storyteller must see the mirage, meet the demon, embrace the lovers.
She must exhaust herself, so as to exhaust her co-conspirators in story.
Listeners must be worn out, as much as the teller is spent in creating an oasis for thirsty travellers in a land of wonder.
For then has a story been told.
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