Tansy Undercrypt
Author, Illustrator, Purveyor of Doom & Whimsy


November 19th 2014 in Microfiction

Peters listened carefully, occasionally taking notes. “Well, we can’t stay in any kind of hotel or motel,” the mother began. “Or farms; can’t do petting zoos or any kind of camping,” the father added. “He’s very withdrawn and distracted at school.” “No trips to the beach or even the circus.” “No antique stores.” Peters offered a compassionate smile before asking, “Is there a place he does like to be? A place he feels safe?” The parents looked at each other, pondering the word “safe”. “Well,” she said in a quiet and measured voice, “he likes the library. A lot.” Peters nodded. “Mr and Mrs King, I think little Stephen has a very fertile imagination, sees a lot of things and people that aren’t there, and lives out long storylines inside his head. Most kids do this, he just does it to a profound degree.” “So, you’re saying this is normal?” the father confirmed. “I’m saying,” Peters said slowly to add weight to his words, “that you’ve got yourself a writer.”

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