The Beginnings

Rocking chair on porch

I have a story in me that I need to release. I have written a rough draft, but I am not sure of the next step to take, after checking and tweaking. It is a story that could, but for the grace of God be mine or yours.

Here are a couple of excerpts, is this wise? I don’t know, don’t want my story line snitched or even my words taken, but then am I just flattering myself? Anyway, here goes, these are not in any particular order:

Desiring a gentle bewitchment, she came here, to this house on the hill, from her Father’s house on the edge of a rugged riverbank.

Her mind was racing as it did often of late, the days of her youth tumbled with the days of turmoil, as the orange and ocher crisp leaves loosened their hold and took a final curtsy, drifting lazily around her to land softly on to the earth she had known and loved for so long.

She dared open disobedience, but little did she care, for this running, this daring, was a “must” and a small rebellion in her carefully lived life.

with arms flung wide and on her tip-toes, whole heartedly though unwieldy she danced for him, her heart shone through, and the deal was sealed.

There is movement I do not recognize and I am leaning in directions toward which I do not easily tilt.

It was smooth, silky, pieced together from the slivers of wood he mastered, a gift of perfection, precision, and priceless to her.


I would like to put more of the latter part of my story, but I will not.
So there you have it, a small part, what shall I do with the whole? I will seek and find an answer.


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