Some moments later, he pointed toward the sky, "Look there, it's a full moon. My people call this The Long Night Moon since it happens around the time of the year's longest and darkest nights." He kissed her cheek. "It's a good sign...you and me...seeing this together." His voice went soft. "I've heard it rumored that when lovers see the full moon, life will bless them, but only, if their hearts are right."
"You just made that up, " she punched him.
"No," he shook his head. "No, the legend of The Long Night Moon has been..."'
"Sssh, I'm not talking about that part, it's the lovers' thing. And you did, too...make it up."
"What makes you say that?"
"I saw your right eye twitch," she snickered. "It does that when you're teasing me."
"Okay, little Miss-Know-It-All; but it sounds right...don't you think?"
Qualla's Folly, a house that holds trouble within its walls. See you there, Elizabeth.
This book is out in print now. Please contact me by email: firstname.lastname@example.org or this blog site, or 704-536-5134 or http://www.firesidepubs.com/. My friends (listed above) will be waiting to greet you. I've asked them to be on their best behavior...but we'll see.... Elizabeth Towles
The 'walks' of my mind!
Many things walk through my mind; it changes with the choice of time. For instance, during the day, I tend to write with a conscious eye, with a temperance toward word choices, almost as if I've an invisible watcher editing my thoughts before they find print; now, night time offers a different stage for my writing, I feel the mellowing of my words, my fingers fly across the keyboard with the courage of a Delilah, and thoughts sing a purer truth as the cover of darkness cheers me on. It seems most problems find an answer with only the light of the monitor in front of me. The darkness of the room lets my imagination have a free hand, no censoring of ideas, or judgment sitting on my shoulder.
The 'Memory Chair' -
"This...sitting around the fire," Wa`si said, "reminds me of my father and his friends. They would sit around the campfire gathering up its energy and before long there would be sharing time. The one designated to talk held the 'memory chair' until his story ended." He paused, as though his story mimicked the moment as the fire's strength entered into him, giving his words newly found power. "When I reached manhood, at sixteen, I was allowed to sit with the group. It was from these stories passed around from the one in the 'memory chair' that I learned the meaning of honor, and the importance of everything relative to what's around us. Best of all, I was taught that a strong man can show meekness without being weak...and shed tears without feeling shame....