Aborting the Dark Germ.

Some things just shouldn’t be written because sometimes they can take form and grow and cross over into the world we call the real one. Mahler knew this when he wrote Kindertotenlieder. He knew it again when he wrote Das Lied von der Erde. He ignored the warning of his instinct both times and suffered horribly. What’s worse, others suffered too.

I mentioned recently that I had the germ of an idea for a ‘ghost story for Christmas.’ Tonight it began to take shape, and as it did so I began to feel scared and ill. The red light of warning seemed clear. I chose not to ignore it.

For what would it avail me but a small fragment of kudos perhaps? Someone, somewhere, might compliment its originality. Such a small reward for the possibility of what it might engender. Such a high price to pay for so little achievement.

And so the child of imagination called Sadie Blackmore must never come into being. Please forget that I ever mentioned her. And do feel free to call me a fantasist and a coward. That much I will happily accept.