Flight of Fancy
I was writing and decided to take a break. I had submitted a story to The First Line so I took the time to browse the website. I liked the overall professional without being stuffy approach to the site. “Free stuff” caught my eye and I clicked on it to find they were offering free back issues of the magazine. They called it ‘Read and Release.’ That is when my fancy went into flight.
I could see them, volumes of back issues sent aloft, leaves flapping against the summer sky or simply gliding placidly on the current, unbound and free. Or… maybe the ‘release’ is a letting go of the print. If the magazines floated like saturated rain clouds would they release entire sentences? whole words? letters? Would the punctuation marks hurt like hail as they hit?
Maybe you would release them in the grass. An entire sentence would slither from your hand, forcing the grasses to wave as it went. Freed letters would scurry like ants from a jar, bumping against each other in their hurry to hide. Certain of the punctuation marks would have to land on their points or they’d rock, stranded like a beetles on their backs.
In the river releasing them might mean instantly dissolving, becoming the voice of the river and the glint on the surface. The sentences might tangle among the reeds, while the words waggle down stream in delight. The letters might catch between the rocks, shinier and more enticing in the clear water than they are when you hold them cupped in your palm.
You could net them from the sky, collect them from the earth, and catch them from the river. You could rearrange them, make a new pattern, give them a different voice, and a distinctive beauty. You could write a unique story to be ‘read and released.’
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