Amanda had trouble concentrating when she was out among people. Her thoughts and inspirations often spilled out of her head and into the air around her. She left brain imprints wherever she went, marvelous as they were mysterious. Her friends found her inspirational, because they picked up her thoughts, and imagined them to be their own. Ideas bearing the seed of genius drifted to whoever she looked at, yet she never perceived this to be happening, apart from the feeling of emptiness when an idea left her. Her favorite place was the bedroom that had been hers since she was a child. It was a place of intimate enchantment, for the walls and ceiling had caught all the dreams she had ever had, and shared them with her.
Story #143
1 comment:
The only people around here that leave brain imprints are the folks on busses that lean their dippity-doo'd heads against the windows. That only inspires me to barf, or swear I'll bring Windex and paper towels next time I go downtown. Those actually are "no-brain" imprints.
I had a bedroom like that when I was a teenager -- the walls would catch my dreams. That must have been why my parents repainted it when I moved out. My thoughts have been blue ever since.
Post a Comment