Rough time last night, just about to lose my mind to conscious thought when one stirs up and leaves me wide-eyed and useless for any further dreaming. I slip out of bed, berobe myself and walk the hallway to the living room. The moonlight shines in, a hunters’ moon, I think; it is so bright. Flick on the light and laptop as a story hits. I’m grateful since I didn’t want to think about what kept me up.
It is a bit that was written long ago, a sequel to the novel written down, discarded. Suddenly it’s come to live again. And it is a story in itself and grown in darkness in my brain without my knowledge. It is ready now to ease it into day.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology