Friday: Fiction in Fifteen – Gathering Storm”

january friday fic in fif 2

http://wp.me/p45h2I-6ug 

[check out Paul's site at the link above! Thanks Paul!]

Isn’t this picture great? It elicits so many emotions within me as I study its depth. And as we all know, emotion is what inspires story!

So have at it! Set your timers for 15 minutes [if you need longer- no worries, take your time] Contemplate the possibilities before you begin to write.  If you do write something, we would love to see it!  Even the first sentence would be great.

I hope you are as inspired by this picture as I am!

Here is my piece:

A Gathering Storm

 A low, deep rumble reverberated through the gathering clouds above . The slow, persistent growl rolled through me and collected in the pit of my belly, churning its contents into a soup of anxiety. How fitting for a morning such as this. Consternation had been my friend for the better part of a year, and its culmination an approaching leviathan.

I averted my eyes of the rumble’s call, choosing instead to focus on the quickly waning strength within me to advance my steps. Squeezing my eyes tight, I asked for more; more strength, more hope. And then less too. Less of the fear and trepidation that threatened to consume me. The dread that I was experiencing only increased with the gathering storm, building to a certain crescendo. Its progress reflected the pattern of recent days, marked by a knowing.  

Morning always brought with it reality. The dreams of my sleep-state had become my refuge; where I felt happiest in the midst of confusion and despair. But each morning the same knowing: the inevitable judgement that we would face, together he and I. Judgement brought on by our own misdeeds. Choices that all led back to here.  I couldn’t be angry with anyone but myself, really.  There was no one to plead with, no begging would stay this decree. I wouldn’t even try. I couldn’t.

I asked for more courage, more strength. Not to deliver me from what was inevitable, but to prop up my shaky steps. No, I would take my punishment as it came, reap the consequences that I wove into the fabric of my life. Nobody’s fault but my own. After the chips fell, and the guilt washed clean from my soul, maybe then I would feel worthy. No, I’ll never be worthy, I felt that deep within. But to find myself back in the grace of God, was a gift I could not embrace now. Now was a time to weather the storm of my own making.

And then wait for a deliverance.

So what did you write in fifteen?  please leave a comment, if only to encourage us to keep writing!

…by moonlight ~ novel except

by moonlight

Here is the next installment for my novel in progress.  The chapter is called “by moonlight” and this excerpt is the second half of it.

Again, keep in mind that it is a first draft [spew on the page], and also not complete. This particular piece is a few chapters down from the last piece that I posted.  My plan is to post small pieces till the rough draft is complete.  I hope that you enjoy the pieces that I put up, they are meant to give you a bit of insight into the story itself, and the characters.

awakening coverr

-we are about two thirds of the way through the first book, in a three book series entitled  “lightbearers” 🙂

Enjoy!

…by moonlight

Discussion at the table was pretty much what Akira had expected. More questions about why she was on the side of the mountain in the first place, and about the decree of the council concerning her whereabouts at all times.
“By the way,” her father asked. “Where did you go today after the council meeting? I looked for you.” Her father sat staring at her intently. She felt his knowing eyes boring into her.
Akira didn’t want to lie to him again, so she simply said, “I was with Mairwen. She was concerned about what happened, and wanted to hear the story.
“Of course she did. Talk has already begun about the stairway that you found. I’m sure she wanted to hear all about it first hand.” He smiled then, seemingly satisfied with her story. She spent most of her days with Mairwen, so he wouldn’t question its validity. The small pang in her heart bothered her. Even though this was truth, it wasn’t all of it. But if her father was part of the problem in Marmaron, she didn’t want to alert him to any of the plans she and Mairwen had made with Fionn.
He continued conversationally in between bites, “They were out there within the hour, breaking down the boulders surrounding the opening of the stairway in order to fill it in. No one will be using it again. Not soon anyway,” he added, then looked up at me for a reaction. None. Satisfied, he continued. “Why anyone would want to go out there in the first place, I cannot fathom. What were you thinking Akira?”
He sat waiting for her to answer, and when she didn’t he raised an eyebrow in question.
“Oh, did you want me to answer that? I thought it was rhetorical.” She left it at that, returning her gaze to the food on her plate, picking through it as though it were an interesting creature to be observed instead of consumed.
“Well, let’s not have anymore trouble. This was enough excitement for all involved.” Her father looked tired, and totally done with this situation. They all sat, quiet.
Akira’s mother, uncomfortable with the awkward silence, changed the subject to what had happened at the infirmary that day. One of the travelers that recently returned, was having an especially difficult time healing. It had been several days, and he was still unconscious. Speculation was that he had encountered a particularly difficult strain of sickness that his body was not equipped to handle, and the healers were not able to eradicate. This was a huge concern, for it was not common that the healers were so ineffective, and encountering something lethal like this put everyone at risk.
“If we are unable to revive him,” she continued, “steps may be taken to suspend all traveling indefinitely –  until we can figure out what is going on.”
This proclamation hit Akira in the gut. This is what Fionn had feared, what the prophecy had foretold. If the people walked away from their purpose, they would all reap the consequences. She couldn’t let this happen. Someone was going to have to set them straight. Stand up and fight for what was right. She stopped chewing then, put her fork down and sat up, looking straight into their eyes.          “Isn’t that what they are supposed to do though?” she asked carefully. “Their choice to travel and bring hope doesn’t have anything to do with their own safety, does it?” “I thought that it was understood to be a dangerous calling, but one that was necessary.”
Akira sat with her hands in her lap, fidgeting with her clothing. She knew that questioning the council’s choices was equal to treason, but she could not stop the words from coming. Surely her father would allow her that; questions.
Both of her parents stopped eating then and looked at each other with fearful gazes. Her mother pressed her lips thin, and diverted her eyes. An unspoken conversation had taken place, and Akira wondered which side of the line each of them lie. Her father spoke first.
“Akira,” he said gently. “You are correct, theoretically. It’s all great to say that you would give your life for another. Like your grandmother did,” he added. He paused here, remembering his mother, and sadness reached up and touched his face. Blinking it away, he continued.

“But when you begin to see the effects on those doing the giving, especially when it is someone that you love, you begin to see things differently. You become possessive of their presence in your life, and it is difficult to give that up. Is another’s life more important than the one who is giving theirs up? It is a question that we have all had to ask at one time or another. Most people will willingly give their lives for someone they love, but for someone who doesn’t deserve that sacrifice? It becomes a little more complicated. The end does not seem to justify the means.” There was hurt in his words, and remembering. Akira wondered if he held anger toward the boy whom had been the subject of his mothers sacrifice.
And his words seemed like wisdom to her ears, but her heart was screaming foul. If not us – for them, then who. Who would they have to show them hope and light and life? How would they ever leave the despair of their circumstance behind? She understood his ache for a loved one, she ached for her grandmother everyday, but it did not justify a decision that would pervert their lives and lead them away from obedience to the Creator.

No. Someone was going to have to put a stop to this. If it meant her banishment, then so be it. But for now, she needed to arm herself with more information, learn and fill in the gaps that were missing. She needed a crash course in how to use her gifts, and retrieving the scroll seemed to be the place to start.
Akira excused herself from the table. She was worn from the day and was badly in need of rest. Both her body and her mind seemed to be reeling from all that had happened, and it was screaming for sleep.  As Akira lay on her cot, her mind would not rest.
Her eyes were closed when her mother checked on her, then shut the door again, but Akira was more awake than she had ever been before.

A strength was rallying inside of her that she could not squelch. She didn’t want to. And as the moon rose in the night sky and its light illuminated her room, she rose and walked to the window. She looked briefly back at the closed door, and hoped that her parents would someday understand what she knew she had to do. Then grabbing her pack and swinging it across her shoulders, she climbed out of the window and into the moonlit night.

 

 

friday: fiction in fifteen ~ “hope feels”

hope feelshttp://wp.me/p45h2I-6qc “Hope sees the Invisible, Feels the Intangible, and achieves the Impossible.”

a great big thank you to paul militaru who takes such wonderful and inspiring pictures! Check out his site at the link above!

So – five minutes is just not long enough to write a creative short piece of fiction….for me anyway! I just love to create short pieces based on pictures; to contemplate what is going on between the lines. I would love to see what you have written during our friday ficiton segments.  Send me a message or post it in the comments..  Write for 5 or 15 – your choice! the point is to keep inspired and writing! Here is my story:

“Hope Feels”

by: lisa evola

I looked through the frost etched window at the shivering bird perched upon the ledge of my prison.

My prison. One of my own making really. I had been given choices. Choices to do the right thing, to admit my error and therefore join with the rest of the group in what they considered playful respite. I didn’t want it; the playfulness. I preferred instead to wallow in my misfortune, to breathe the frigid air of separation and guilt. I chose to sit, exposed and trembling, much like the sparrow outside the window now.

Like me, he has lost hope. He is unable to see the possibility of shelter all around him.  Shelter that would certainly thaw the blood slowing in his veins, that which would save the life so precariously balanced on that ledge. Life has a way of doing that; driving hope from an open wound in the heart. And so I close it up tight, so that not even a fractured ray can penetrate it. Then sit staring out, blinded to the light reflected there, the light that could achieve the impossible. Seeing only what my stony heart sees, which is but cold, icy frost covering all that I had once known as good.

I see the shivering sparrow. I see it still; its downy feathers puffed out to the elements, protectively encompassing his soon to be stony heart. Like mine. And a single tear runs down my cheek, the first in months. The tear clears a path through the skin, washing away the smudges left by careless word and deed. And a trail of heat is left, warming what is beneath. I touch my finger carefully to the tear, and as I pull it away from my face, more come. At first just a few, but then a river flows, ever widening the chasm. It washes my face, my heart – my soul. And as the tears soundlessly pour, I crank open the casement and reach for the tiny frozen sparrow. He does not resist my warm hands, but sits shaking intermittently in them.

Tucking him inside the opening of my sweatshirt, I coo, tears still falling. Falling from me to the bird at my breast, each drop causing him to flinch, then still again. Then he sees it, as I do too. The invisible. The intangible. The tears that would achieve the impossible.

To feel again.

awakening: novel excerpt

awakening coverrAs this story continues to unfold, I would love to share portions of it with you. For writing isn’t to be kept and horded. but to be shared -so to inspire and endear. I have been going back and forth on the name of it, and am currently rooting for “awakening”, but for previous excerpts, they are listed under “city of mist”….hmmm. kinda like that one too. What to do?!!

I hope that you like this little piece of my creative soul! 🙂

19-[…..and down the rabbit hole we go.]

They walked toward the side of the city where the forest grew closest to its slopes. Akira hoped that they would not need ropes to repel down the side of it. She remembered that this side of the mountain had a sheer faced cliff that plunged directly down into a riverbed filled with rocks. She didn’t know if she was up to the adventure after so recently having been half dead. As they approached the edge of the cliff, she noted that the wall ended just before the sheer face.  Wind blew and whistled here, bringing in the cool salty breeze of the sea to the north of Marmaron. As they stopped at the cliff’s edge, Akira looked at her friend with an expression that said, seriously?  “I’m not jumping if that’s what you think.” She said matter-of-factly.
Mairwen chuckled. “No. I’m not either. Over here.” She led Akira to where the cliff met the wall. There was a small scrubby bush growing close to the edge, and Mairwen stepped around it, peering just over the edge. There on the cliff face was a small ledge that sat just outside of a hole in the wall, like a small cave opening. It lay about three or four feet from the top, but the ledge was narrow, and there would be nothing to stop their descent if their footing was not sure.
“Ummm, I’m not sure about this Mairwen.” Akira hesitated.
“I know, it looks pretty scary. But I have been down to the ledge already and it is not as bad as it appears.  And there is plenty of room for your feet. just go in as soon as you get there. Besides, We have this.” Mairwen reached down under the bush and produced a rope who’s end was fastened to its trunk. “Courtesy of Elior,” she smiled brightly.
“My, you have been busy today, she chided. “Good to know that while I was dying, you were having an adventure.” 
Mairwen put her arm around her friends shoulder. “I wouldn’t want your almost death to go to waste,” she returned. “By the way,” she added, “I’m awfully glad that you didn’t. Die that is.” She hugged her tightly, then looked back over the edge.
“Me too, Mair, me too.” Taking a deep breath to steel her nerves, she grasped the rope firmly. Dropping slowly down the wall and reaching with her toes, she felt the firmness of the ledge beneath her. When both feet were securely down on the rock, she squatted and looked into the hole.
It was small. No bigger than a foxes hole, or maybe a large rabbit. It would be a tight squeeze to get through it. But staying perched on this ledge with her heart in her throat was not an option. She was beginning to wonder about the wisdom of this plan. “Mairwen, how do we know where this goes, and how tight it gets. It does not look very large. What if we get stuck?”
Mairwen looked down over the edge from her stomach. “I’ve already been inside. I know it is dark, so you can’t see what is there, but once you get inside the opening, it widens into a larger room and there is a stairway. I think it was crafted as a way of escape many years ago. In case of invasion maybe?” She shrugged her shoulders at this. “Go in the opening, and then I will come down. There is only room for one on that ledge.
As Akira fit her arms and head through the hole, she wondered vaguely if this was a smart thing to be doing. Most likely not, she told herself. But here she was, with nowhere to go …

…but down.

 

a genesis

genesis2016

Here we are again….the beginning of a new year. And isn’t that what a genesis is? A beginning. A new start. A commencement of ….something.

Whether or not you are someone who likes to “officially” make New Year resolutions, I think we all sit here on this day and breathe a sigh of relief. Relief that we can start over – begin again, have a genesis.

-Each morning I sit with my bible, looking for God’s words for me, His instructions for the day so to speak. Most often I don’t have a reading plan, I will simply open it to a page – any page, and read. I trust that whatever page I fall upon will hold truth for me. And it usually does. Not always the truth I want to hear, mind you. But truth none-the-less.

This morning as I popped it open, it did not open to a page, but to the beginning, the genesis of the book….a blank page before it begins.

And I contemplate that.

Accident?  I think not. There are no accidents. Everything means something….it is just whether we want to look deeper for the truths meant for us.

A blank page. A new beginning. The old has gone, the new has come. I get a do-over.

Looking deeper I realize that Genesis sets the stage for the rest of the book. It’s a story of purpose and plans, failure and redemption. It reveals the person and nature of God: Creator, Sustainer, Judge and Redeemer.

It is the very first description of God that catches my attention this morning: Creator.

In a majestic display of power and purpose, we see our beginnings;

  • full of beauty

  • full of glory

  • full of purpose

  • full of….promise.

And it makes me want to create something great, to make something out of nothing – something beautiful. And isn’t that what an artist does? Create something from naught but an idea. Whether you write, draw, work with wood, garden….it doesn’t matter really what your medium is – it begins with an idea in your mind. An idea placed there by the Father of all creation. A genesis that can become something beautiful. Something from nothing. That is what God does.

I am nothing – yet, He is creating in me something beautiful: a Genesis.

Those ideas from last year? Seeds for the coming year. Seeds that when planted can become something intricate, magnificent, and glorious. Our job as creators is to grow that seed. Place it in fertile ground, water it daily, and give it the nourishment that it needs. Before long, you will be looking at a magnificent tree of life – something from nothing [but an idea].

So, here is a toast to new beginnings and creating something from nothing.

You can do this; the Creator made you in His very image, and He can’t do anything but.

Happy 2016, and happy creating!

Soli Deo Gloria!