The chill is biting but I continue walking. Not knowing where I will end, I let my feet guide the way through leaves of autumnal colors. My mind is alive with stories. Characters talk back and forth through dialog, describing people and places that exist only in my mind. I know that my world is burning. I am losing time and falling out of place. I am desperate to finish all that I have dreamed before more is dreamt.
Squirrels run about rustling leaves under the trees and across the path. I pause to watch them. In distraction I lingering among them as they gather food, climb, and play. They are oblivious to me until I address one aloud as "Mr. Squirrel". Then they all scurry up the trees to their hidey-holes leaving me alone again with my stories bickering with me to be told, to be spilled onto paper.
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