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Shattered Glass

Shattered Glass

 

Pride broken,

confidence lost.

No longer certain,

only scared and unsure.

Distorted sense of self…

Unrecognizable,

image fragmented,

like pieces of shattered glass.

Once broken,

never again quite made fully whole.

 

@RDB May 30, 2018

 

 

 

 

 

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Love

The deepest emotions I believe anyone might experience in this life are those of love. Be it for a friend, family member, lover, or a soulmate… our ties to these people are some of the most intimate that we might ever come to know. As of late, this has been my focus. While romance is not going to be the centermost plot in either of my current WIPs. It does impact and influence a number of my character’s motivations, values, and even actions.

Yet, putting them to paper can be so hard. Especially when the feelings develop over time through the simplest of interactions and gestures. For to me, that is sometimes how the most true and long lasting loves and relationships are built.

A Dance

In the medieval fantasy I’m working on, things as simple as a dance can cause sparks. Sometimes, people just connect in the most unexpected ways. Maybe it’s just meant to be. With these two, despite their differences, I would like to believe that…

Excerpt from Warlock’s Chronicle – A Rise To Power: Our steps quickened as we danced through the busy streets to the grand pavilion in the center of Fenoran. The horn joined the flute, drums and tambourine overpowered the lute. Bright yellow and orange dressed musicians frolicked ahead of us, their movements lively like the music they played. My heart pounded and my breath was ragged when Rosalynd spun in toward me. Her chest heaved against mine. I grinned at the blush that flooded her face, and it only broadened as we moved in unison, dancing cheek to cheek. The music faded, but I held her there and the crowds vanished along with the shops and stalls. In that instant, time seemed not to exist. There was only her.

Rosalynd’s head turned and she looked at me. She met and held my gaze. The orange-gold flames that burned in her eyes warmed, like wood crackling in firelight. She leaned in, her full lips almost touching mine. A knot formed in my stomach. My hand at her waist, pressed to the small of her back. The other released her hand so that I might touch her long dark hair.

Lending A Hand

In my other work in progress, two proud people who have experienced their share of pain and heartache start to connect in the process of lending the other a hand.

Excerpt from: Seeking Justice

I stepped to the side and let him by. The upstairs bedroom door creaked and closed softly behind him. Fingers trailing the bannister, I went back downstairs again. My hat and coat hung on a chair near the fire’s warm glow. After I took off my boots and set them beside the chair, I stood near the living room window.

Rain pattered the glass. Lightning tore a silver thread in night’s bustle. Wind whistled through the limbs of the maple tree outside. Corn stalks lashed at the air like the angry whips.

“It sure is comin’ down,” Jeremy said, descending the stairs.

I faced him.

He clutched his side.

I cocked my head to take a peek at his ribs. “Best get this cleaned up.”

“Bullet grazed me,” he said and sat down on the sofa.

When I saw no cabinets or drawers in the living room, I proceeded to walk about the house and rummage through things. “Where do ya keep the bowls and linens?”
Jeremy called back to me. “Bowls are in the kitchen hutch. Linens should be inside the drawer.”

My boots squeaked on the hardwood floors. The drawer under the hutch creaked as I yanked it open and pocketed some linens. A large basin set on the top shelf next to the china. Got up on my tip toes and ran my fingers along the inside of the dust riddled hutch. The bowl slid forward. I caught it in my arms before fetching some water and coming to sit beside Jeremy on the couch.

He inhaled sharply, when the cold rag touched his flesh. Pulling it back, the skin beneath looked clean. The wound wasn’t deep and the bleeding stopped. He wouldn’t need to be stitched up.

“You’re lucky, that bullet very well might’ve killed ya.” His eyes caught mine when I glanced up from those tan muscles, his eyes caught mine. My fingers grasped the bloodied linens to keep them from shaking.

Jeremy’s eyes wandered a moment, looking me up and then down. “Does trouble follow ya everywhere ya go?”

“Just what are ya saying?” I snapped.

“I’m sayin’ I’ve never known a lady to go wrestlin’ a man for a knife. Nor have I seen one go searching for so much trouble.” He shook his head. “It’s like chasing tumbleweeds.”
A pang filled my chest, and my cheeks flushed at the memory of Ma once telling something similar. “Comes with the job,” I replied though my breath hitched a moment later as the rag fell from my hand to clasp his chin. The not quite week old stubble tickled.

He turned his head. “Yeah, maybe so.”

I brought a clean linen to dab his jaw but didn’t grace that with a response.

“I’ll bring ya something to wear and some warm blankets,” he said with a cough and moseyed on into the bedroom. I stayed by the fire until he put me on the spot. “Ya settlin’ in the guestroom? Or are ya more comfortable restin’ yourself down there?”

“I figured I’d settle myself here on the couch.”

“Suit yourself,” he muttered. “I’ll be back with those blankets.”

The room got quiet again, wet clothes chilled my skin. Rain continued to patter on the roof. The storm had died down. Still, I couldn’t go nowhere, and being cooped up in a stranger’s house didn’t help.

Jeremy returned with a bundle in his arms. “Know it ain’t much, but got ya a dry shirt along with a couple blankets.” He put them on the couch and glanced at me. “That way ya got somethin’ to wear while those dry.”

“Why are ya doin’ this?” I asked.

“Doin’ what?”

“Bein’ nice. You don’t know me or owe me anythin.”

He nodded. “You’re right, I don’t, but the way I figured it, even you could use some help.”

Mother’s Day

May these quotes serve as inspiration on Mother’s Day to help you come up with the words to tell her how much you love her.

via 10 Inspiring Mother’s Day Quotes — When Women Inspire

There’s no bond quite so unique or deep as that between a mother and her child. This mother’s day I found a post from another blog particularly heartwarming.

So this Mother’s Day, I show my appreciation for this special bond by sharing these heartwarming quotes.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Tender Moments

The things sometimes we least expect can draw some of our deepest forms of inspiration.  Today, I experienced this in a rather peculiar way.

For months, I have been unable to wear my wedding band as it makes my skin dry and peel. Upon being invited out by some dear friends of mine to go out and sing karaoke, I slipped on a ring that a friend had given me a year before. When my husband noticed it, he instructed me to go out to the car and open the glove box. Inside was a small jewelry box. When I returned to our kitchen and lifted the lid tears filled my eyes.

Ring

In that little box, was a flowered ring set that I’d been looking at online maybe a few weeks ago.

What struck me the deepest, is knowing that this same person is one who has not only stood beside me and shared with me some of my greatest joys and sorrows.  This person has also stayed up with me in the late hours of night talking about what I love: writing. He has encouraged me, supported me, and believed in me when I couldn’t do it myself. That love is far more precious than anything I could ever hope to have. It is also that love, I hope to find a way to bring to life between two characters I deeply cherish.

“A token from someone who loves and inspires you be a gift. Having someone like that in your life, now that be real treasure.”

~Rosalynd Bloodthorne~

 

Seeds Of Faith

Seeds Of Faith

Like it or not, people believe in something be it a higher power, money, fame, or even others. This is something I’ve come to experience in my journeying in the boots of a Pagan warlock and the broken heart of a Christian woman in the wild west of the early 1870’s.

These characters come from vastly different worlds. Each has had their share of joy and sorrow. They have experienced love and loss. But what would these things matter if they didn’t have morals? Values? Ideals? They’d lack depth. In short, they wouldn’t have hearts. Let alone, souls.

Xavier’s desire to end tyranny and heal the broken lands of Xenos in Styvynia would have no meaning without the teachings of Bartholomew Strahll, or the ancient nomadic Lizren. Just as Angela Sue’s drive to bring her father’s killer to justice would have no significance without her Christian mother’s gentle, forgiving spirit. 

Whether we ourselves practice faith or religion, our values shape us. They mold and make us into the kind of people we are going to be. This has been a profound part of my current works in progress. The realization of human error and the impact faith can have on even the smallest or most simple of acts. Even to those of great consequence. 

EndGame

EndGame

The closer to completion I get, the harder it is to see the story through to the end. Each step of a character’s journey molds them. It defines more than what they love or hate, it defines what they believe and how they live.

With Xavier, in my writing of Warlock’s Chronicle: A Rise To Power, I have watched a helpless boy grow into a powerful warlock who seeks to end many an injustice, at the risk of becoming the very things he hates.

In my writing with Angela Sue, from another work in progress: Seeking Justice,a young girl takes it upon herself to bring her father’s killer to justice. She too has struggled to not only find herself, but something to believe in when all she’s known is put to question.

Yet, the further along I get… The more difficult it becomes. Then, I’ve never been this close to completion. One book at the half way mark and the other looking at the last five or six chapters feels almost like watching my children grow up right in front of my eyes, only in fast forward.

Its an emotional experience. One I’m not likely to forget.

Winds Of Change

Winds Of Change

Even with the year almost half over and life keeping things interesting, I feel that my current works in progress are developing rather nice. With some discipline and persistence, it is possible that both the first installment of Warlock’s Chronicle and Seeking Justice may be complete this year.

My writing schedule may be changing as follows:

April – Seeking Justice
May – August 14th: Warlock’s Chronicle: A Rise To Power
June –  Seeking Justice
July – Warlock’s Chronicle: Destiny (Book II)
August – September: Seeking Justice
October –  Warlock’s Chronicle: Destiny (Book II)
November – (New NanoWriMo Piece) Brother’s Keeper
December –  Seeking Justice

Pacing is everything. Dedication and applying myself are crucial, especially now that I have a publisher in mind and am looking into finding some more. After all, a dream cannot be realized without first striving to reach for the stars.

Write On Fellow Writers!