Do you realize we are already halfway through 2018? I don't know about you, but as I get older (I'm no spring chicken, you know), time has sprouted wings.
When last we visited, I was working on my rewrite/edits for book one then real life interrupted the creative streak (more like a creative crawl, lol). My husband, my rock, my joy, hurt his knee. So bad, in fact, he's on immobilization orders from the doctor, and you know what that means! For the first time in years, I'm catering to his needs, and I'm okay with that.
Not everything writers put to paper, or screen, comes out perfect. Well, sometimes it's good, but it takes exhaustive edits, rewrites, and sometimes deletions to make it perfect. Also, inspiration can come from anywhere. When it strikes, you grab it and run. You might not use it tomorrow, next week, or even next year, but if it's good enough, eventually you will use it. That in mind, I keep a pad of paper, a pen, or my phone or tablet with me at all times.
Case in point, last week I was listening to a song by Jonny Easton called Fireflies (you can find it on YouTube). It is a beautiful song that inspired me to write this new section I will be adding to book one; a softer, more vulnerable moment for our characters. Right now I'm calling it Fireflies. I hope you enjoy.
Fireflies
The darkness in these woods put everyone ill at ease. The trees were so tangled, each overlaying the other, even Moon's protective glow couldn't penetrate. We were in total darkness, except for our small fire and even it seemed to be gasping for breath.
Then, a tiny light appeared, flashing by itself, searching for its place in the dark. First just the one, then many, finally thousands of flying, flickering lights. The cloying darkness was chased away, filled instead with their magical splendor. These woods, cursed for all eternity - by the ghosts of war - showed us there was beauty still left in it.
Seeing the looks of wonder on our faces, Balyn dampened the fire with a single, hushed word and sat gazing at us as our faces watched in awe at the amazing dance taking place before our eyes.
"What are they, Balyn?" Marwyn asked, hushed.
"They are the souls of the dead, lighting the way through the darkest parts of the woods."
"But there are so many!" Marwyn replied. As a tear ran down her face, she continued. "We did this, didn't we?"
"Many died here needlessly, all because of evil released through the veil. It wasn't us, Marwyn, it was Xyldreth," Balyn answered.
Never had we seen anything like this. I think in some small but sad way, it made our journey into the unknown easier. We knew what we would become should we fail, a guiding light in the darkness.
Would our future be any easier because of what we witnessed? No, but in days, months, and even years to come, when we needed something to show us our way - a ray of hope - we remembered.
We all rested easy that night, dreams of fireflies lighting our way through the darkness.
