I have absolutely no energy to write a blog post tonight, so instead I’m going to play a game of Let’s Pretend.

Let’s Pretend that we live in a magical house. The house looks something like this:

Why are we living in this magical house?

1. Our wealthy but mysterious uncle left it to us.
2. It was rented to us very cheaply because there’s supposed to be a ghost.
3. We were hired as caretakers by a lawyer with a strange, lopsided walk named Mr. Pan.

When we walked into the front hall, we were awed, but to be honest, it gets creepy at night. Making our way down those long corridors in the darkness. We are trying to get to the kitchen, because we want to make ourselves a cup of tea, and we’re pretty sure there are some cookies left.

On the other hand, we are enchanted with our bedroom, which has a feather bed and  stars on the ceiling. If only we didn’t keep having that strange dream.

You know the one I mean. With the bed that is also a boat. Do you think it means something? Dreams usually mean something. Does this one mean that we are stranded? Or that we are about to set out on a journey? We’re just not sure.

I think there’s only one thing to be done. First, we’re going to have some breakfast. (Hot buttered toast with orange marmalade, the tea that we never made last night because we were too nervous at the thought of walking along those dark corridors.)

And then we’re going to go out into the garden. It’s early summer, and still cool although the sun is starting to warm the stones. Our ankles are wet with dew.

But we know that if we’re going to find an answer, it’s going to be in the woods. Haven’t the woods been there even longer than the house? And haven’t they been calling to us the entire time?

What will we find in the woods?

1. The answers we’re looking for.
2. Creatures we never imagined.
3. An adventure.

Or maybe all of the above. (You know it’s all of the above, right?)

If you’re wondering, these images are from one of my favorite blogs, The Hanging Garden. I don’t know if all writers are as visual as I am, but pictures always suggest stories to me – or perhaps what I mean is that I seek out pictures that suggest stories, and those become my favorites. So here is a little story for you, on a cold and soggy Thursday. Start in the magical house, and write the rest. And I may try to as well, although not until the semester is over . . .