this is something I posted to a mailing list

Date: Sun, 29 Nov 1998 16:53:49 -0500 (EST)
From: Cobweb
To: The Harvesters Garden of Saint Lazarus the Damned

Subject: Re: The Great Sissy Fall

The Harvesters Garden of Saint Lazarus the Damned

As children my dearest friend, Meagan Morley and I conjured misty worlds,translucent,but tangible only to our touch. We often grew sick of play things and ponies (although I distinctly remember giving a purple one a mohawk at one point in time)thus we retreated in our silent secret world,laced with flouring gardens, or crumbling churches, imaginary towers and crystalline bridges. Our play was not of house or pretended future jobs,we were spirits, witches, faeries, mystical animals and even for a time vampyres (I think we were 7 when the Lost Boys came out). I remember elegant, siberian tygers stalking prey in the mist on a foggy day outside my apartment window,hearing elves giggle as we, mermaids, swam in Meagan's pool, and carrying on wistful conversations with the porcelain dolls whom always seemed to slightly shift position when our heads were turned to some other task.

I remember being dreadfully sad when I was told I was too old for our make believe games. And after our world faded into the mist and cobwebs from whence it came, I still yearned to ask her if she wanted to open the door to this place of fae and frolic with our slightly rusted skeleton key one more time. But I became frightened and embarrassed to ask, god forbid this girl who was more or less my sister think me ridiculous. And now I realize that I was ridiculous, not to have asked. I regret letting the world of specters and echo chamber dreams slip away so easily.

It is hard for me to recapture the feelings of those days. I have to some extent become jaded and woefully melancholy of late. I now forget myself for the world, rather than let the world slip away for awhile.

So much has changed.


cobwebbed,
meaghan*