The Storyline

I was sitting, deep in my study

Under a single desktop light,

Listening to the patter of rain

As I wrote, late in the night.

The other sound was the scrape of the nib

As it traced ink over the page,

A setting on out of the mood within

As I traced McMurtrey’s rage.

 

I often would write at night back then

For the house was dark and still,

With none of the interruptions that

The day would seek to fill,

So the world outside would fade from view

As the Moon came out to shine,

Then I could re-visit the world I knew

In the latest storyline.

 

Each tale I told from a birds-eye view

As I watched from my secret place,

A god’s perspective of what I knew

Of despair, or a saving grace,

My characters hung from puppet strings

That I dangled down from my pen,

And I teased and taunted with sufferings

In the way that I did, back then.

 

I never would share with the world outside

What happened within these walls,

Or open up to their prying eyes

My visions of haunted halls,

For that would take them into the light,

Out here where the world is real,

And men could see what a cruel pen

A storyteller reveals.

 

The night that I sat there, pondering

How to make McMurtrey fail,

He’d been obsessed with the girl Mei Ling

She was like his Holy Grail,

The storm outside was gathering

And the thunder brought more rain,

When after a lightning flash, I heard

A tap on the window pane.

 

It made me start, I must admit

My skin had begun to crawl,

I very slowly swivelled my chair

Around, aside to the wall,

I pulled the curtains apart just then

And I peered out into the night,

But the face that stared in back at me

Was stark in the pale moonlight.

 

I heard him say, vaguely, ‘Let me in!’

As the lightning flashed once more,

Despite myself, I got to my feet

Unlocking the outer door,

He strode on into the study, stood

In a stance, most threatening,

‘I’ve come in search of my lady love,

As you well would know - Mei Ling!’

 

The room had shimmered and shifted then

And it faded from my sight,

We stood in the Hall of Gordonstall

And I thought, ‘This isn’t right.’

The hall was hung with the tapestries

They’d brought from an old Crusade,

But nothing was real, I knew it then,

They were things that my pen had made.

 

‘Mei Ling’s betrothed to a Mandarin

And she wears his dragon ring,

The last I heard she was headed out

On her way back to Beijing.’

‘Then you’d better pull out your pen, old man,

Ensure that the lady stayed,

Or you’ll never get out of your mind again

While this storyline’s delayed.’

 

I wander the Hall of Gordonstall

And I see no way outside,

I hadn’t written the doorways in

And the walls are high and wide,

I need someone from the real world

To knock at my study door,

But I fear that I’ve lost myself inside,

As I pace the flagstone floor.

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Robert Lindsay]

This is real insight into a writers mind. Very impressed, since it shows the extra levels of imagination you can enter into. The character who makes demands on you to help fulfil his quest..! That's an eye-opener for me. It seems as a writer you can fulfil many roles. You're certainly an inspiration to the writers here too.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Wow! I'm currently in the middle of reading the Inkheart trilogy; and your poem is written along the very same vein. In Inkworld, there are no limits to the imagination; and I think you were born there.

[wordwarrior]

Knock knock David! This is an awesome tale and had me mesmerizes to the end and what a twist there was to be found!
Your imagination knows no bounds and the reader enjoys such a feast of time and space from your word.
Brava! Inspiring indeed!

[TL Boehm]

I so love this - I love to write fiction and often find myself consumed by a story line. Such a great homage to that writer process.

[Keith]

Great yarn, but I suspect not too far removed from the truth. I have certainly felt trapped in my own storyline, unable to see other possible outcomes.

[Marie]

I would suggest that the writer restore Mei Ling to McMurtrey immediately. These story characters can be demanding and unforgiving.

[Ravyne Hawke]

Whoa! This is a bit different from your usual, but I really like it. I think it is one of your better pieces. I like the character becoming "real" inside the storyteller's mind. And the last stanza left me wondering how long he would roam his own mind before someone real knocked on his door. Excellent poem, David!

[Tom]

A terrific ghostly tale David, admirably penned as always in verse and rhyme which of course exemplifies so much, the quality of the story!

Chilling and absorbing how the main protagonist ( McMurtrey) appears at your window on this stormy night demanding that you do not write his sweet love (Mei Ling), who is betrothed to another far away in her native homeland out of the story, and his demands for her to remain with him, or else ?

It's up there with one of Poe's best, I cannot pay you a higher compliment than that Sir !