Here's something that I finally decided to write down. It's part of a storyline I've been mulling over for a while. I'm debating whether or not I want to delve far enough into my dark side to actually write it or not though. Let me know what you think of it.
The thing's name was gone. The name had taken all identity with it. The thing sat in the dark corner, muttering in its mind, trying to coax identity back in. But instead, the name sat there, mockingly, on the corner of recollection. Like something you should remember and can describe with intimate detail but cannot recall the name of. Trying more intently to remember does nothing but force those details further into the realm of doubt. What kind of car was that again? It was blue, had two doors, was a convertible ... no, maybe it was red ... or green ... I don't think it was a convertible after all ... I think now that it had a flat tire ... oh, right! It was brown ... definitely not a convertible ... hatchback ... four door sedan maybe? Before realizing it, your mind has twisted the fire-red Corvette over which you had been drooling earlier that day into an outdated, dented family station wagon. Not even something you would have noticed. You forget what it was and reality lies down next to the fantasy you have created in its place and dies. The thing's name was gone.
