From <a href=”http://www.thezeroboss.com”>The Zero Boss</a>: <b>For Blogging for Books #9, write a blog post about any incident in your life in the style of your favorite author. The author can specialize in either fiction or nonfiction, and can even be another blogger.</b>
I’ve just started reading <a href=”http://marn.diaryland.com”>Marn’s Big Adventure</a> and admire her writing style, so here I am, emulating it in a fictional way. So, here goes:
I’ve seen the Wudjum. Oh, sure, doubt me if you will. But <i>I</i> Have <i>Seen</i> The Wudjum.
As my Two Loyal Readers know, I’ve always been honest in my journal. I’ve shared with both of you all sorts of intimacies in my life – the Privy Sucking Toads, the true secret of getting a woman naked, how to make foil beanies. Uh, huh. I’ve even shared how many times I can get it up for SETI.
Yeah.
But, I withheld my deepest, darkest secret.
When I was thirteen, I wanted to grow up to be a Wudjum. You heard me right. Do I have to repeat myself? All right, just for the two of you. <i>A Wudjum</i>.
Satisfied?
Sure. I was just a kid. What did I know about Wudjums?
More than you can imagine.
I read everything about Wudjums. How do you think I learned my research techniques? From school?
Oh, be quiet.
Another thing I never told you – I have a degree in anthropology. That’s right. There’s been so much else to talk about, it just slipped my mind. So, anyway, even as an adult, I still dreamed of Wudjums. I wasted my sabbaticals and exhausted my grant monies on researching Wudjums.
What did I learn? Well, for starters, how not to write a grant proposal.
Oh, and that there was only ever one Wudjum in the world at a time.
The Wudjum of my dreams, the Wudjum I wanted to be, was a tricksy creature. They capered (hehe – didn’t know I could use an archaic word like that, did you?) in the deep woods, luring innocents to join them in mysterious rites. They played insanely haunting music and could walk between the worlds.
I <i>so</i> wanted to walk between the worlds.
Well, I never found any Wudjums while I was young. So I finally retired, here to this cabin where I write these rambling journal entries to entertain the two of you.
Wipe that tea off your screen, there’s a dear.
Now, after I retired – it was <i>so</i> a retirement. Those rumours about being encouraged to take an indefinite mental health leave are just rumours. I retired. To find the Wudjum.
And I did. <i>I did.</i>
I’ve seen the Wudjum. Up close and personal-like. Late one night last spring, I heard this music, see, and I had to get up to find it.
Oh be quiet.
If you were here, you’d have gone, too.
I went out into the woods, following the sound. Mesmerized, you could say. And there, in the light of the moon, dancing, I saw the Wudjum.
I won’t tell you what he looked like. Don’t reckon I can, actually. You’d have to see one to believe in them.
And if you promise to be my labor coach, you will.
