Writing In The Dark or The Neon Flower
There were days when she closed her eyes and looked at the blink of neon red and yellow behind her lids. At these times, she stood silent, wondering whether there were words to write, stories to tell. Whether the neon flowers she saw in the dark garden, behind the red curtain, should find themselves on display for other eyes. Of the words known to man, had not all been used so many times as to be considered used up? Of the flowers planted or found growing by some wild design, had they not all been seen and enjoyed? And yet, the notepad that found its way into her hand, as if by its own deciding, became filled with scrawling lines of neon flowers, growing from the dark soil that only she cultivated.