I’ve been reading a lot of dark fiction lately and it’s starting to affect how I see the world.
We passed this old barn driving from Spring Hill to Louisburg, and I had an instant picture of two young and star-crossed lovers–call them Erik and Bodil–dead by Erik’s hand. Living in the late 1800’s, Bodil was promised to another by her parents. She begged Erik to take her away from wherever-that-was Kansas. Instead of eloping, Erik killed her and hanged himself.
But maybe the story isn’t about murder/suicide. What if it’s a hundred years later, and 9-year-old Maria plays in the creepy barn because Momma, busy with the new baby, doesn’t have time for her. Maria discovers the ghosts of Erik and Bodil, and …
But we arrived home at that point, and there the story ended. At least for now.
People sometimes ask where the ideas come from. For me, it’s a matter of looking for the possibilities in the world. Dark possibilities.