By Gina Sacasa-Ross
Eloisa could not pinpoint when exactly she had begun to experience that internal flutter; she couldn’t even identify where in her body it was happening. Was it in her throat, her heart or at the pit of her stomach?
Somehow, the strange sensation reminded Eloisa of the advice given to humanity by the sage Unamuno […] “when the body sings man must listen.” This in turn made her smile. I always end up citing literature! She said to herself as she continued to ponder.
At least she was sure of one thing: she was not pregnant. Neither was she experiencing any puppy love type of crush. Well, she was married and loved her husband but what she meant was they had been married for twenty years, which guaranteed that this ‘flutter’ was not due to the thrill of seeing him, listening to him, or anything of the sort.
The matter was a mystery and it was beginning to be noticeable.
“You are in the clouds,” her friend Angela told her one day reproachfully.
“It’s just that…” Eloisa managed to utter, and stopped there lost in thought, gazing into the distance.
Until that night…when:
“I feel like a zombie,” Eloisa told her husband, “I am going to bed early, I need to sleep.”
It was a good decision, because thanks to a little pixie that suddenly appeared to her right after getting into bed, she was able to solve the cause of her mysterious ‘flutter.’
”Eloisa,” he whispered in her ear, “I know what happens to you.” “I know why you feel that flutter. That by the way is not called flutter; it is called desire, passion, inspiration, vocation. In short, what happens to you is that you die to be a writer, a narrator.”
“Me?” Eloisa argued. “Where would I get such idea?” “What a crazy thought!”
“That you don’t want to accept this fact is something else,” the goblin went on saying with absolute assurance. “Even more, listen to what I have to say: It’s not that you do not want to accept that you want to be a writer, it is that you are afraid of failing, of not being capable of becoming one.”
“Hmm,” Eloisa snorted defensively.
“Life is giving you a chance,” continued the dwarf, “the Tampa-Hillsborough County is having a short story festival; you got their email, you can participate.” “This is your opportunity. If I was you I would run to register.” He said.
“Me, run to register? Am I not telling you that you are delusional? I can’t run!” And Eloisa shot a sarcastic glance at her wheelchair.
The genie jumped and stood behind Eloise’s wheelchair.
“Sit,” he ordered enthusiastically, “I’ll push you!”
Sun City Center, FL 6/30/2021
