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Mary Beth W., 21 Feb '13

        I could write about plenty of useless things.
        
        Tired old stories, prompts that are way too overused; easy pickings. What tales shall I spin? What can I write; what other universe can I take you to?
        
        Who knows?
        
        Maybe I’m not even a writer at all. Have you ever thought of that? Maybe I’m a witch in disguise as a beautiful young maiden. Or maybe I’m a theif, a swindler, spinning cobwebs to fake gold. Or I could possibly be a dragon with an enslaved scribe, whispering my every word into his waiting ear.
        
        Who knows?
        
        Maybe you’re not even a reader at all. Have I ever given that any thought? Maybe you are a Shadow Lord, preparing to take over the Kingdom of the Sun. Maybe you are just a quiet old beggar, keeping strangers company for a small while. Or maybe you are a wandering musician, making your way around with the circus. Perhaps you are only a sparrow, timidly listening to gossip before bursting into flight.
        
        But who knows?