A rustle nearby caught my attention, and I froze. I had heard the stories of people disappearing while in the woods. We all had. But from what Pyrniel said, I didn’t think the war had any hold this far south.
I pivoted towards the sound, my footfalls silent now. If there were Rebel soldiers about, I wanted to know exactly where they were hiding, even if they could see me plain as day.
The rustling happened again, and two squirrels burst out from a clump of grass to my left. Trying to control my racing heart, I took a few steps in that direction and braced myself for whatever might be there.
I took a deep breath, then spread the grass apart. My scream caught in my throat and I dropped my basket in my hurry to run away.
Excerpt from Lily’s Passage
Writers write.
Sounds simple, but it’s something we tend to lose sight of when we see the finished product. Behind every inspiring post or informative article is someone who strung the words together, probably while wearing pajamas and drinking their third cup of coffee. Or maybe that’s just me.
No matter how it gets done, writing is about people. Because those words are meant for someone.
I write for people with a story to share. Especially those hard stories that move me to tears. Because I write to shed light into the darkness of this world, to offer hope where all seems dim. And I know I’m not the only one with stories to tell.
Sometimes, the stories I write about aren’t my own, but the ones others have entrusted to me. So whether you came looking for adventure or a place to meander, let me be the soul who walks beside you.