He didn't believe her, of course. How could he? She knew that what she was telling him was so outrageous, so fantastic, and nowhere near the realm of believability compared to the plain, empty mountain they were atop now. She knew what she was saying was true, but she had no way to prove it now, no way to show him that she wasn't completely delusional. Sighing, she went to turn away, to wander off in hopelessness, but, as she did, a smirk crept across his wrinkled, bearded face.
She stopped as he began to rummage through a box, pulling from it a leather covered book and a rolled up set of tools. He set the book down, and she watched as he opened the tools to reveal some leather stamps. He quickly pounded out a word and her name in the cover of the book, then began to fill it in with a pen of golden ink. After blowing on it a few times to dry the ink, he handed the book to her.
"A 'grimoire'?" She was puzzled by the words he wrote on th.e cover as she opened the book. Inside it there was nothing, the pages all blank. "But, you don't believe me.."
He held up his hand to stop her from saying anything more. "My believing your story has no bearing on its importance, child," he said with a smile as he rolled up the tools and put them back in the box. "Or its power. Imagination, the power of words and images outside the bounds of what is known. There is magic in words, in pictures, in music, a power of escape that acts directly on the hearts and minds of people."
"I want you to take that," he said, as he pulled out another item from the box and handed it to her. It was a small box, and she opened it, revealing a feather pen and a mechanical pencil. "That is now your grimoire. Write in it your story. But I want you to write it in third person, outside of yourself. Write about the things that did not only happen to yourself. Write it as a story that people would want to read. When you are done, if you still believe the words you write really did happen to you, then perhaps I will believe you more." He began to turn away, but looked back at her again with a smile. "But even if you don't, it won't change the power of the words that you write."
She nodded, beginning to understand the old man's enlightenment, and left his small house to find a place on the mountaintop to be alone and to write.
Date posted: 11 August, 2010 Tags: regularspelling writing
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