There is a thing, you know.
A squirrelly thing. A flamboyant thing.
That writhes and shimmers in the moonlight.
It springs to life in dance.
Filaments of light drip off it’s body.
The dust of the ages wafts up from the ancient cobble stone floor.
The ushers rush in as the crowds scream for a place on the stage.
The band hits their instruments, the lights flood the house, a single sound is heard.
The tone reverberates and the crowd explodes in ecstasy.

I started babbling in a text chat with a friend and the next thing I knew that’s what I’d written. Sometimes the mind is a scary thing.