This writing was inspired by my love of being read to.

When the person reading to me loses themselves in the words written and captures me with their tone and mood...i know not but, to lose myself with them

In this sitting a most capturing tale revealed itself.


.................................



It was always her fantasy to sit in on a reading of a story that knows to capture ones imagination.

A story that initially seems nothing more than a tale told ...mundane yet intriguing, for something lurks within the words.
A mystery that one cannot place ones finger on. A leading of the reader ...insinuations and innuendoes dropped to keep one guessing what it may be.

But, even more so...the story seems to reflect an interest or commonality one feels at what is written.

The writer's will to share a discovery of facts that, in the end, would change their world, their outlook on all they thought they knew.

She was told of such a story.
Of a woman mousy and obedient, quiet, a perfect companion of a man stuck in his own importance.
She be his wife.
Nothing more.
Maybe not even a companion...for many a time he was blind to her existence.

He could never imagine her being a passionate creature, never mind a lustful and abandoned lover.
And to find out one day, on her passing who the person was, that he had lived with all their married life, was exactly everything he thought she was not.
The story intrigued her...now to find the time and the right ambience and mood to ask him, the one with the quiet yet, purposeful voice to read a short story that had her questioning...

Why is it that we know not the abandonment of self with those that should be the closest and dearest to us.
What is it that makes us hide and seek other avenues to express that which lurks deep within our being.
Is it the fear of being ridiculed, judged, banished.

And thus a plan made for a sitting...a reading in the near future of

"The Colonel's wife"
by
Somerset Maughan.

RB.