The Price

I stared wonderingly into his brooding eyes.  I knew what he expected. He wanted me to give, and to give freely of that which was so precious to me.  I, as much if not more so, than anyone else, knew the value of that which I had to offer; for I had been taught, and taught well of the power of this treasure which is mine.

The price?  Well, I don’t know when the dollar signs first appeared in my mind, but they were there. No, my treasure would not be sold cheap.  There would be a price to match the gift.  After all, I am a girl who appreciates the finer things that life has to offer.

Now the man with the brooding eyes was staring at me.  He knew me so well.  I could feel his eyes as they penetrated through me, burning to the core of my soul, searching, waiting for my answer.  My lips quivered as I sifted through my thoughts; but it was his voice that I heard speak.

“Darling, I understand. For I, too, know of the authority that one wields with the written word. ‘The power of life and death is in the tongue’, which translates to the words that we pen.  Should these words be used carelessly and irresponsibly to others, then who knows the repercussions that one would come to bear.  The burden is on the writer because of the reader.  Therefore, do not exert your influence unwisely.”

Then with a sheepish grin and a command in his voice, he spoke again.

“Yes, Leah! Sell your manuscript”.        

Leah Wilson