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Originally posted by Erik Scott de Bie

Thank you for updating and resurrecting this thread, DM. Your story is tremulous and beautiful, and you tell it from your heart. Flawless.

Thank you, and all my best to you and yours--and to all those of us who fight these battles, loudly or silently. It means a lot that we are none of us alone.

Cheers,

Erik

P.S. IMO, if you aren't a professional writer, you should seriously consider it.

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Originally posted by Darkmeer

Erik,
You are the second one to consider my writing worth reading and to consider writing. Thank you for that (although I am still at a loss as to why my words are worth reading, I do appreciate the compliment, please feel free to tell me why I should consider it, as I really don't understand). Oddly, I've considered consolidating the nightmare's log into a book at someone else's behest, I can't think of many who would want to read such a... mess.

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quote:

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Originally posted by The Hooded One

To Alan,
From the hand of Elminster of Shadowdale,
This:


Word hath come to me lately of thy recent sojourn in durance vile.

I set down these few words not merely to congratulate thee on thy release, nor to hearten thee down the rest of thy days, but to extend the hand of friendship and let ye know that there are other wayfarers through life who honour thee and understand thee. The one I know as EdAppel, for one. Even when companionship cannot be directly seen or touched, thou art not alone.

Now that thou hast known a cage, and seen something of the darker sides behind the faces of thy fellow men, reflect: ye still live, and breathe, and are stronger for the experience.

Trite words, those, I know. Others have said them before, and no doubt they shall be said again. Yet a truth lies in them, for we are strengthened by every experience we survive. “Enriched” is the currently-popular word, I believe. We cannot help but be enriched, for a life is no more than a collection of experiences, and what their remembered colour and lessons lend to us as we face later experiences.

Think of thy life as a pathway ye are building through an unknown, mysterious, mist-shrouded land, a forest or jungle. Ye never know what lies ahead, and may even question why ye are making the journey. More than that, every flagstone ye set down has its cost to ye. Yet ye are on the path before ye truly know ye have begun it, just as all others are on their paths. Our paths may cross, or run together for days or months or years, yet in the end our path is - - must be - - our own. We all make choices, all the time, and some of them turn out to be mistakes, or less bright than other choices we might have made, yet the time of that particular choosing lies behind us, and we cannot go back.

So, in the end, we are left with three sorts of choices: to refuse to choose, and drift aimlessly, restless and accomplishing little and tasting more and more dissatisfaction; to choose recklessly, not really caring or letting anger rule us or the excitement of the moment and hurling aside judgment, consideration, and counsel; or to choose with thought and deliberation the route of our path, its way marked by choice after choice. The last way can be hard at times, yet also holds the most satisfaction, for however unwisely we choose, we at least have chosen, have taken some hand in deciding and shaping our life.

Ye did not choose that cage, nor the time spent there. Yet having tasted it, ye can draw from those memories and call on their teachings in thy time ahead. Ye can look back and take pride in surviving that dark time, and take it up like a bloodied and battered suit of armour, and say, “I wore this.” More than that: “I wore this, and lived to look back and gaze upon this armor. If ever I must put it on again, I will know what I am putting on - - and know that I can survive through it, for I have survived before.”

Not everyone lives that deeply, ever. Not everyone is tested and tempered in flame. The old warrior who has scars can be proud of them in a way that the naïve young maiden can preen in her beauty, but any pride she takes in it is empty and foolish, for it has cost her nothing, and so she knows not its price, and is not mindful of the weights of life. The darkness that makes warming flames all the brighter.

Hold on to those flames, and do not forget your time of imprisonment. Be as the bars that confined thee: patient, enduring, uncomplaining. If ye remember fear and anger, close thy hand around it and keep it safe and stored, ready to be a weapon when needed - - but wielded well, not foolishly, wildly, and to no good end.

Let it be thy inner flame, a flame that faileth not, until the day of thy passing - - and let that day be a long way off, after the deaths of all who put thee in the cage. Endure, outlast, and be stronger.

For it is the only good way to build thy path, and the best prize of the hard work of building.

Know quiet pride, and wise peace, Alan. Ye are not alone.

And ye do NOT lack armour, nor the respect of thy friends. Walk tall.


Until next,

Elminster of Shadowdale



Whooo. So saith Ed.
love,
THO

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