The Flying Arrow

 I want to move you.  I want to keep you up at night.  I want to consume you and make you cry.  I want to turn you on, make you laugh, and get inside your mind.  I want to stretch it and squeeze it, and I want to be surprised at what comes fluttering out. 

I want to do this for myself as well.  But right now I am the arrow, my dear, and you are the target.

Of course, you enter the experience voluntarily--that is the best part.  You're not required to pick up a certain book, or watch a certain movie.  You enter because you want an experience.

You want me to move you, need me to, even.  You want to be taken away--on a story, on a dream, to a world that doesn't exist except in our unified minds, but a world that becomes so real-- 

Play it all out in my book, I don't mind--your most disturbing fears and pulse-racing fantasies.  I invite you, even, to use me.  Use me to experience that which you never will in this life, and I'll do the same.

You want me to move you, my dear, and I will delightfully, thankfully, soul-shakingly oblige.