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Yet each night, her love –- her first and only love -- still came to her, in her dreams. He always had. Her gentle and sweet lover, in some mysterious act of penitence for the fate he had participated in, would visit her, as she slept.
And all during the night –- every night -- they would travel to exotic places, share their thoughts, share love with an unbounded purity and intensity that can only exist in the dream world.
You see –- ghosts often visit those who have had an extraordinary life. They have left our physical world. They know inner beauty, and can only see what you are, and not what you look like.
Originally posted by counterterrorist
Is it autobiographical?
But ... do you ever write in dialog?
I've been thinking about crafting a story for this contest, one that requires plotting in addition to spontaneity, that would reflect the rules of drama and story writing if-and-when needed.
But, as you know, that requires work. Whereas in the piece I did for this contest, called, 'Suffocation' -- it was fun.
The other day, one of my friends, Diana (unfortunately not as intimate a friend as I'd like) who has a corner concession inside an antique store, one of her customers did wear such a mask ... the first day she entered. And Diana was very upset. However, the next day when Diana was not there according to someone who was, the burn victim did come back, without her mask ... and totally, well, the people working in the store were totally shocked and upset.
Diana wondered, why would the woman have taken off her mask? I explained to her, "Diana, she needs you to see her for who she is, without her mask, so she can respect herself ... and share with you what it is like for her."