Visual Stimulation. A writing space for all...

[Hollylane]

She strode, decidedly unladylike, into the sun dappled shadows of the forest behind the barn, putting much distance between herself and the imaginations of children who played docilely with store bought toys in pretty pink bedrooms.

In her mind's eye, the trickling creek in front of her became a great raging river that she carefully picked her way across on slippery stones, while shouldering a knapsack filled with the tools of survival. A butter knife, a roll of twine, a half eaten red licorice whip, a parchment wrapped cheese sandwich, a tattered copy of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and a salvaged kite, gleaned from the highest branches of the old oak at the school, that the other girls would never dream of climbing.

She found her secret place, deep in the woods, where the only attire ever worn were t-shirts, jeans, cowboy boots, and occasionally, a dusty and well worn old straw hat. No dresses, no skirts, no patent leather shoes were required here. No mother fussing over dirty fingernails, rubbing at her cheeks with a perfumed handkerchief, or moaning over a tear in her dress.

This was her world, with many grand adventures waiting to be revealed.