“Take this down,” I said. Two shades sprang up, one more agile than the other, stood poised and ready.
I ran my fingers along a dusty mantel.
How to begin?
“To Whom It May Concern.” Friends.
I hesitated, unaccustomed to the sunlight streaming in through my two windows to the world at large.
“Now reblogged, then nominated, somehow . . . ” despite the shadows.
I squint into the sunny brightness, the dust motes like butterflies.
“. . . to both a due and hearty thanks . . . .” surely no more, no less rather than to carry on so til grace given is grace lost.
“That will do.”
The shades sprang down from their high perches, still gaping, and light stood like pillars under their cargo.
Even so back to books and lamplight, and Thou, my guardian.
Dreams from a Pilgrimage 
That’s chilling and fantastic.
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Thank you, Mason. In aiming for the cloistered tone of the speaker, the blog itself, I may have overshot a bit but I like your take: makes me look at it through new eyes.
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You nailed that tone. I got a feeling of the voice echoing about the cloister. The energy of the beings all around too. Your description is fab.
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🙂 Thanks again.
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I love your style of writing. ❣️
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I feel you’re really at home with your writing, Dora. This story expresses some doubt and concerns, but the pen continues. And confidence from your guardian helps fight those doubts. Very well written
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Thank you, Debbie, for your acutely perceptive comments, so encouraging to me. You’re a dream reader as well as a brilliant photographer! 🙂
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