Thursday, February 17, 2011
There is this quiet, honey-soothing spot that awakens in my chest when I write. With school keeping me busy, I haven't had as much time as I'd like to write. I had felt a constant sheet of rain over my heart but, just the other night, the magic happened.
The second my fingers touched the keyboard his voice caused a light to flicker within me. It was like rhythmic drums in the air. My MC's voice—Drake—whispered as my fingers danced out his story. I shut my eyes and allowed myself to escape and transport to a world I had missed, but not forgotten.
Desperation rose from a heated ground of forbidden desire. The familiar scent of vanilla still perfumed the house. The shadows forever lurked in every corner. The grass still damp beneath me as I watched a night sky masked in light gray clouds.
And then, like a shadow unveiling the light, I saw Drake—his pale silver eyes looked at me and he nudged his head for me to follow him.
I took the first step without even thinking, trusting him. He led me deep into his mind, his emotions spiraled inside of me and I listened to his voice, a deep timbre. The branches above our heads were dipped in the moon's light, making the leaves glow. The road ahead of us dark, but not impossible to make out and follow.
He stopped walking, paused in front of a lake deeper than our past. He turned to look at me. The wind picked up and pushed back his wild black curls, highlighting his high cheek bones. I watched him in awe. He took a small, silent step into the lake and the water shifted slightly, rippling around his foot. I began to take a step and he held out his hand for me to wait, and so I did.
He walked deeper into the water and with each step he took his voice grew louder, clearer, until I was completely lost in his words, in his story. He lingered in the black water and I listened to everything he had to say, to his riveting, painful, yet beautiful story. I felt the fire in his heart.
Sometimes life gives us too many doors to open, close, and keep shut that we forget to listen to that soft knock, trying to call to us…
When I write I feel like I can make the impossible happen. That night Drake made me feel as if I could walk in the sky.
Perhaps it was better that I didn’t know. Not knowing meant I could hope, and hoping made it easier to breathe-- Drake