I haven't written in a while. Part of it is a bit of writer's block--I'm not exactly sure where I want the story to go--and part of it is the fact that I can't seem to get out of my own head. Those voices that rear up when we put a piece of ourselves out there are screaming and I lately haven't been able to tune them out. What those voices are hollering about shouldn't matter. Writing is therapeutic for me. I'd do it even if no one ever read it, but those closest to me see a potential in me I'm afraid I won't ever achieve. Those voices.
I do not have a grand resume in author terms (Ok, any terms!). I almost finished my bachelor degree in Elementary Ed but stopped when we adopted our son. I always assumed I'd go back...and I will. It's just taken much longer than I'd imagined. However, in two years when I do get back, I'm going to ditch Elementary Ed and go for something in the English world. Something that will help that resume of mine and hopefully make me a better writer. It certainly can't hurt, right?
I absolutely do not regret my life decisions. I look at my kids and even though they beg to be left in the after-school program at school, eye roll, I know they would miss me. I know they needed me present in their lives just like I know I need to write. It should be obvious, but I'll say it just in case-- if you chose differently that doesn't make either of us wrong. If your kids thrive in that after-school program and you held on to that career just as hard as you hold on to those babes, kudos. I am grateful life has taught me the grand notion of to each their own. I truly mean that. I know that what is right for me may not be right for you and that doesn't mean anything other than our choices needed to be different. I'm glad I stayed home but sometimes I do feel so far behind in the race. Those voices.
I pushed through those voices today and pulled up my latest project while I sat in the car rider line in front of the school. I scrolled to the top and began to read and guess what? I liked it. It is not perfect, but it is GOOD. I would read it! Ha! And with that thought, the voices were a little harder to hear. Before long, the line was moving and I was scrambling to get my seat where I could reach the peddles because goodness knows that car behind me won't wait long. The car rider line is serious business! As I tucked my laptop on the seat next to me, I marveled at how quickly time flies when I write. Seriously! I've begun writing and not realized darkness settled around me with the setting of the sun until I look up from my screen and find the room pitch black illuminated by only my screen. I truly hope I'm always surprised at how quickly time passes when I write. And those voices? Well, they are completely gone when I'm lost in the story...lost in time.
And, if you're still reading, I'd like to share the preface of my next novel. I THINK it will be called THE LAST OF THE DRAGON KEEPERS, but I reserve the right to change that name! Hope you enjoy.
*****
She slipped through the large battered door quickly, closing it behind her. She fumbled with the reluctant latch, eventually securing it in place. The room was dim, lit by only one candle. The scent of hay and the chicken she’d cooked earlier for dinner hung in the air. She leaned against the door while her eyes adjusted to the low light. She couldn’t see him, but she knew he must be there. She hadn’t expected him to be back so early. Her heart sank.
“Well?” His voice boomed through the silent room, startling her.
“We lost her,” she said quietly, head down. She knew what this meant.
The man stepped from the shadows across the room and flipped the small table in the center of the meager space, causing the remains of her modest dinner to clatter across the floor. She jumped involuntarily. The solitary candle that sat on a small table next to her bed flickered and went out. Darkness wrapped around her. It didn’t matter. She focused on a tingling within her chest. Her senses immediately heightened. She didn’t need light to see the remnants of her dinner scattered on the floor or the upturned table now laying on its side, one leg broken. She didn’t need light to see him. She didn’t know what else to do, so she immediately began picking up the mess.
“Leave it,” the man said. The fire once in his tone settled into resignation. He stepped toward her and rested his hand under her chin. She reluctantly gave in to his gentle tug and stood. He brushed the tiny stray curls of hair that had refused to stay in her braid off her forehead. She let out the breath she was holding and melted into his arms. “It will be okay,” he whispered near her ear.
“How?” she asked as tears streamed down her face. “The Emperor won’t listen. He refuses to stop using the dragons as weapons, but I thought we could at least convince him to let them rest.” She lifted her head from his chest and wiped her face with the backs of her hands. “He will not acknowledge the dragons’ connections. When one is in battle, they all may as well be. How can he not see that?” Anger burned through her. She wiggled out of her husband’s arms and turned her back to him. “They are all going to die! If not from war, then from a broken heart!”
He stepped around a chipped bowl and rested his hands on her shoulders. “I will not let that happen.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. With her back pressed against him, she could feel the beating of his heart. “What about her babies? Are you going to be able to save them?” he asked.
She turned and faced him. “She protected her eggs until the very last moment.” She shook her head and choked down her emotions. “There are six. If we can keep them from the devastation their family members are feeling they should survive.” She ran a hand across her face. “I’ve successfully hatched dragons before, but never under these circumstances. She lifted her eyes to her husband’s. He looked so tired. She rested a hand on his cheek, fingering his thick beard. It had begun to turn gray these past months. This war was taking its toll on them all. “And your travels—I’m surprised you are back so soon. How many are left?” She held her breath not sure she wanted to know the answer.
“Four,” he said grimly.
“Four! Only four Keeper families remain?” He nodded. She pushed away from him and began to pace. “That’s six down from only a month and a half ago. At this rate— ” She stopped pacing and rested her hand on her bulging belly. He stepped toward her and placed his hand on top of hers. He bent and kissed where his child grew. Normally, when he did this, she would ask him to use his Keeper senses to see how the baby was doing. She could and did so herself, but his extra assurance kept her worry at bay. At this moment, however, her mind spun so fast she couldn’t keep up. “What—how are we…” she stammered.
He stepped in front of her and clasped his hands around her face. “We, my darling, are getting out. All of us. We are taking the dragons and running. Tonight.”
