How do I write a story?

I see a glimmer through the foggy woods. If I don’t follow it, I’ll lose it. If I lose it, it sometimes comes back to taunt me until I give chase.

I follow it until I see it full well. It stops and turns. First the head, then the body. I watch it, noticing the hues, shapes, and textures. It gives warning, but I am not afraid. I hear the swish of fabric as it moves toward me. I feel its breath. Its scent is now unmistakable. I hold its hand. I follow it to the cliff and search the circle of my view for clues as to what will happen next.

I lean over the cliff. The depths call to me. They paint a picture I don’t want to see. I look away.

Again, it is beside me. It embraces me. Holding fast, I lean my heart into it and go with it down the sharp-edged wall. It wails, full of pain. We are thrust against protruding rocks. We are driven together into misery and danger all the way down to the bottom.

The floor of the canyon rises to meet us, too fast, too eager. We lie still waiting while the floor dances around us, mocking us in a gleeful chant.

We rise to fight. We rise boldly to show the enemies as cowards. We rise with the floor folded neatly under our feet. Conquerors. Victors. A writer and her story, together and finally at peace.