I'll collar your fears

I'll collar your fears

fiction
edward w pritchard


I'll  come to you in dreams and grab the old white plastic clothes basket with the slits in and around the sides and stand over you and round up and collar your fears and carry them down the creaking  croaking steps into the back yard and use the wooden pinched yellow clothes pins to hang your fears on the sagging mushy clothes lines that run down the sloping hills back toward the alabaster stone fences. Be careful when you wake and walk down to breakfast that none of your fears might have fallen from the basket when I was carrying it down the stairs in the dark and your fears might trip you up and cause you to stumble and fall over and over.

If you do successfully maneuver down the stairs in the morning grab a tall chocolaty glass of crunchy steamy scalding Ovaltine to sip and savor as you walk walk round and round the back yard and pick and gather the bright red and orange colored Spring flowers that took root when your fears were blown and scattered from the sagging mushy clothes lines and germinated and grew on the sloping damp yard covered with cold morning dews that beget the wild flowers carpeting your yard all the way down the Hill to the broken crumbling marbled stone fence.