Image by Pixabay.com
I was in my favourite charity shop yesterday where the manager was having a book sale. I try never to miss these. I was busy browsing when a customer asked what I liked reading. Offering two books from the shelf she said that she read the first one in a day. I thanked her and placed them on the pile I had beside me, thinking that was the end of the conversation.
‘If you don’t mind my saying, your aura is very bright, the colour strong.’
I could have said that I was not surprised, as browsing for books always has that effect. She went on to say, ‘I’m sorry, my name is Deborah and I read auras. Yours is particularly fascinating as you have words dancing around your aura. They need to be written, a book maybe?’
This I had never heard of and must have looked surprised.
Touching my elbow, she said, ‘Oh, you already write, don’t you?’
She could have been my grandmother, so I didn’t want to offend her. I could tell that other customers were now listening. I didn’t tell her that I had written a few books and lost a few changing from floppies to discs, I should say. The remaining ones safe on their USB’s.
I thanked her for her time, saying I needed to get home. Before I managed to get away, she reminded me not to let the words go to waste. ‘They won’t float there forever, write them. It could be your best one yet.’
I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I hadn’t written a complete book in years. The odd ditty for the internet is all I can manage these days.
Once safe inside my house, I looked through the books. Looking at the two she recommended. Everything I don’t remember by Jonas Hassen and Seeing Angels by Emma Heathcote -James.
I have yet to read them and I wonder if there is a message inside waiting to be found.
Maybe a strange Eureka moment?