When they took off his blindfold he was surrounded by cloaked and hooded figures within a moonlit woodland glade. One who held a finely-carved staff began to speak.
“Know ye the secret?”
“I do,” he heard himself saying.
“Repeat it here.”
“Don’t get it right, get it written.”
The staff became an ornate pen which he accepted gratefully.
“Welcome to the Craft!”
He found himself lying on his desk, the old ballpoint still in his hand. All a dream, then, and his sheet of paper still as white as virgin snow!
He set off across it like a man inspired.
Image: MC D’alton