is love.
Over the last few days, misery, hate, violence, and all out death and destruction have been reported on the news. My heart grieves for those in West, Texas and those in Boston, Mass.
As the city of Boston, Watertown suburb was placed under their shelter and safety order, I thought of those locked in their homes. Then my mind turned to cabin fever.
Of course, when I think of cabin fever, I couldn't not think about the story I wrote with Shara Azod, Cabin Fever. This story isn't about death and violence, but about love--love between two married people whose relationship fire has fizzled. See blurb below:
Blurb: Uber-busy and highly successful Chanta Nicholson thought she had kept all her secret desires carefully tucked away in her diary. Her husband, Drew, while a good man, wouldn’t condone the type of lovemaking she wanted. She liked it rough and wild, but there was no way conservative, straight-laced Drew would even begin to understand her needs. Drew Nicholson could feel his wife slipping away from, hiding behind her cell phone calls and busy late nights at the office. There wasn’t any way he was going to let Chanta go, not without a serious intervention. He’d read her diary and knew what she needed. Most importantly, he knew how to give it to her. Locked in a cabin tucked away in the Canadian forest, Drew and Chanta can’t just kindle a fire, they must make their love burn like cabin fever. End Blurb
You may be wondering what my story has in common with the Boston Marathon and West, Texas tragedies.
Nothing.
Except that in moments like these, where evil seems to have won, I want to encourage people to love. Don't stop loving, being respectful, and living for and with each other. Remember, to love. My creative works encourages love across racial lines.
Dr. King once said that darkness can only be vanquished with light. Darkness cannot drive out darkness.
Enjoy.
I’m a fairly eclectic reader and writer, so some people wonder why I don’t do a whole lot of horror. In
my teen years, I started reading horror with Stephen King and tore through all of his books. But as for
writing horror… Well, I’ve only ever told one off the cuff horror story.
And scared myself to pieces.
We were camping, Mom and Dad in the RV, my best friend, Regina and I in a little pop up tent. Like any
good story teller, I used description from the things around us. A spooky house up on a hill. Brown hills
(in California, this happens more than you’d think) full of demon deer.
Demon deer?
Well, yes. While I can’t remember much of the story, I do remember to this day the demon deer herd
with eyes that glowed red in the night. Which you know, doesn’t sound quite so scary right now. Of
course, I have (cough, cough) many years between that trip and now. I’m also safe and sound in my
house. No hills. No spooky houses.
No demon deer.
But that night, oh that night. As a story teller, that little detail was a stroke of genius. As part of a teen
girl duo who could talk themselves into just about anything? Not so much. Every time a deer got caught
in the headlights, so to speak, we saw red. Sleeping in a tent? Great fun for shadows to prey on your
mind. Everything became fodder for the horror story we were living in our own minds. Squeals of “Did
you see that?” and “What the hell was that?” peppered the night air.
By the time we stumbled into the RV because we’d scared ourselves witless, the whole campground
gave a huge sigh of relief. We knew this because we were told by the other campers. All day long and
into the next night. “No more stories, girls, I need my beauty sleep.”
At least my parents didn’t laugh at us when we could hear them. It must have been hard to stifle the
giggles when we came crawling in, defeated by the night.
Since that night so many moons ago, I have stuck to writing what I do best: Dragons. They may eat you,
but at least you’ll see them coming.
Wynelda
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You can check out Wynelda's fantastic dragon stories, in December, with the release of her first Mocha Memoirs Press's story, DRAGON'S PATH.
