Haunted

There is the problem. I see a piece of a story, hear the conversation in my head.
I don’t know where the story starts, I don’t know where it goes.

Like when I could see the Warthog pulling the Ruler out of his belt and smacking Willow on the wrist.
It took me month’s to work to the beginning and to the end. And yet, I never reached either.

So when she said, ‘past or future, I never look back to the past; only to the future.’ And then she said, that somewhere out there, was a nice Pastor she would marry.
Yes I made the pun about Pastor future.

And I could see him, a good looking man, hiding around the corner from her, as she walks down the street. But it isn’t she that he fears, it is that he is meant for her.
For he has always told his flock, that they can do whatever they want. He has told the women that they are the Mistress of their destiny. They should strive to be whatever they want and that nothing stands in their way.
And what frightens him is finding out that it isn’t true. For he knows now that he is destined to meet her, to fall in love with her. And she will fall in love with him. And will be married. They will have a life of joys and sorrows, but it will be a good life.
And he turns and runs down the street, still unwilling to face his future. Still unable to come to grips with the fact that destiny is his mistress.

And that is the image in my mind, haunting me. For as long as it is in my mind, I’ll think of how the story starts, and how it ends. And maybe I’ll actually reach both ends and can write it down.
Or maybe, if I am in just the right mood, and if my muse is looking over my shoulder; I’ll just sit down and write the story. It will flow out of me until I reach the end.

Until I get it down on paper, I’ll see his frightened face.

Post script-
So I lied, I know how the story ends. It ends with a terrible pun, based on; ‘I’ve grown accustomed to your face.’ And that might ruin the story.