Sunday Snippet!!

Okay, I forgot to sign up for WeWriWa this week but I thought I would post a snippet from my current WIP anyway, a gothic romance tentatively titled Bid Love's Return...

For a moment I was frozen in place, staring at the precipice below, surprised and terrified that I could have been that reckless. I wanted to step back but found I could not, my fear was such that I could not move even as the wind threatened to send me over the edge.

I once again felt a gentle caress slide across the back of my neck, the same sensation that I felt earlier as I stood upon the front step of the cottage.

This time however, I turned to look.

I was alone, the path still as empty as when I left behind the cottage minutes earlier, but even as I stood there, staring at the emptiness of the path, I suddenly had the distinct sensation of being pulled away from the edge of the cliffs.

I felt a spark in the center of my being as if a tether of heat had suddenly found its way within my chest and attached itself, pulling me safely away from the edge. I felt the warmth grow as I moved effortlessly across the icy rocks back to the safety of the cobblestone path and yet, I saw nothing.

Perhaps I should have been frightened, but I was not. I felt no sense of malice at that moment, and the truth of it was, I felt a sensation of peace wrapped inside that warmth.

I turned to look back at the cliffs and was surprised by the distance that now stood between myself and the rocky shore.  While I was no longer in danger of falling to my death, I was however, concerned for my mental state.

WEWRIWA 3/9/14

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A little snippet from a ghostly romance tentatively titled "Bid Love's Return"

Do you believe?

I've asked that of myself more times in the last twenty years than I can recall, usually as I am lying alone in my bed surrounded in shadows and questioning both my memory and my sanity.  But my answer has always been the same.

Yes, I believe.

When I first returned home from Marblehead that snowy February day, I was worried that I would forget it all, or even worse, that I would come to believe it never happened. Age and wisdom have taken their toll on me, age more than the other I think, but it is just as effective for stealing my memories. I have learned the hard way however, that there are some memories that remain when all else has disappeared.  

Although I struggle more with each passing decade to remember everything clearly about those days in Marblehead; I've discovered that the sound of his voice, the scent of his skin, and how his hand felt wrapped around mine, are permanently etched on my soul.