Yesterday’s post was just characters, or the possibility of characters, talking to me. The “what if” behind it was “What if there was a cloak that brought on depression?” Actually, I may have been thinking of how to describe depression, and it was a heavy wool cloak, kinda stinky because it was damp. Kind of a moss green and dark gray color. It has a big hood, one big enough to pull down over your chin if needed. Full length (to the ground that is, not the mid calf). In itself, not an ugly garment, but cursed. So the curse is woven in.
Why would someone make a cloak that’s got a curse of depression?
Because people like to wallow
But why did the original maker say – Hey – I need a cloak that will make me feel bad? Because people like to wallow. And, maybe, because it feels so good when you take it off. It’s an item of indulgence. “I’m gonna put on my cloak and wrap it around me and then I’ll go out in the garden and eat worms. :-p”
So the maker of the cloak is a little disturbed. Maybe it was made for those people who are especially happy and bouncy and never have a worry. It was made to tone them down – like Ritalin. So Bouncy Annoying Spark the Farfae (fairy) was the obvious person to put the cloak on.
The downer cloak
Now, for a limited time – The Downer Cloak! This finely woven cloak is made of Ireland’s finest wool, make in Kenmare. We’ve imported it and for a limited time it’s On Sale for only $500. Feeling especially happy? Can’t stop giving complete strangers hugs? Need to tone down that saccharine smile? The Downer Cloak can help. Come by while supplies last.
Depression can be comfortable and familiar. So a Downer Cloak would be like a “woobie,” a Linus blanket, a cherished relic from days gone by that, although old and ratty, you just can’t seem to let go of.
But it can be taken off, laundered to get some of the smell out (maybe dry cleaned?), folded up, and locked away in a foot locker or “hope” chest with the unfortunately designed holiday sweaters, the mittens of clumsiness, and scarves of sweaty strangling. All things that come out at certain seasons of the year.
Locked up and maybe forgotten.

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