walk me home

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It helps when you know where you are going. Unless your name is Batman, you don’t want to end up in that eerily quiet alley after dark. And when the sun descends taking its illumination with it most would prefer to not walk alone. It isn’t the dark that scares us. It’s the unknown. The stuff lurking just beyond the streetlight; friend or foe. We don’t know and that’s what plants the fast growing seed of fear inside. A lost kitten in need of a home or a blood-thirsty, ax wielding clown with a hair-trigger temper who wants to use you for his clown car act.

That is the way I feel when I insert a new character into a story. Believe it or not, the character comes to me. I don’t come to them. And sometimes I don’t know whether they are the kitten or the clown. Regardless, they all want to navigate the world I’ve created for them holding my hand until they’re home. They live. They breathe. They want attention and time spent with them, a purpose, and they look to me to give it to them.

Aren’t we all like that though?

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So I take their hand, try to light the path I’ve put them on as best I can, and lead them home, to the destiny I’ve set before them. Along the way, I nurture, spending time with each of them – getting to know them as individuals. I walk in their shoes. I feel what they feel. I empathetically read and react as they would. If I left them in that alley, let them flounder in the darkness, my story would be incomplete and sub par.

Do you see where I am going with this?

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With most everything I post here, I try to find commonalities between my world as a writer and the world all of us walk around in everyday. I make every effort to conjure something relatable and heavy with a message of introspection.

This time is no different.

Tying back to my opening sentiments, nobody wants to walk alone. We yearn for human contact, to be loved. We reach out to others with affection, care and understanding hoping we get some of the same in return whether we know it in ourselves our ulterior motives or not.

Some are destined to walk alone. Some choose to for a myriad of reasons buried deep inside. Most of us want someone beside us; enduring, sharing, feeling, loving – not walking in their shoes but beside them – so that when the sky’s large fiery orb disappears for the day we travel that alleyway together, we reach into the shadows and pluck the lost kitten from certain death and take them home.

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Unless it’s the clown.

If it’s the clown, call Batman.

-P

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