Making Memories!

I managed to get distracted tonight. I was looking for an image I know I had somewhere on my computer, or my flashdrive. I’m sure it was more recent than to be on a CD. I discovered that Dropbox has been syncing my photos, so I looked there and completely lost it. I mean…I can’t even remember what I was looking for I found so many other gems!

Like the very first painting I ever did of the dragon Steinhjaert (Deception Peak) back before the rewrites, when the story was something completely different than it is now – or will be if I do rewrite it again, which I hope to do.

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And then I remembered I have a passage in that first book which was then called The Dragon Targe: Journey into the Realm.  The passage couldn’t translate into the new one so it’s sitting in a file on my computer. I thought maybe I’d just share it.

Of course, this isn’t part of any story any more. It was. But not any more.

Ian drew his sword from its sheath and his whetstone from his pouch and sat on the ground at the prairie’s edge. He sharpened the blade with rigorous strokes, as if each movement was a vow of reprisal.  He contemplated his means of revenge. He would wait for dark. He would stalk his prey from the shadows

An owl screeched and plummeted at a hare in the grass on the prairie. As he watched the struggle, he thought about his life and the insignificance of it. How seamlessly the hunt was morphed into an act of nourishment for the owl, and then forgotten. The bird returned to its nest in the trees. The prairie was still again. The hare was gone forever. Ian returned his weapon to its sheath.

The last remaining bit of day faded behind the hills. As the sun receded, the warmth went with it as the night breeze brought a chill. There was a quiet song on the air. Ian presumed it was the locusts of the prairie but then it took form as a high and sweet melody. He turned his ear to listen. There was no particular place that it came from. It whispered on the breeze and echoed back from the heavens. The Songs of Wisdom, he whispered to himself. They’ve returned? The melody grew louder and soon he could distinguish the words. He listened.

Sweet soldier gone as day moves on

To where do you go seeking?

The earth is yours and all around

No star slips by, less you have known

No dove is sent without your call

And yet you search both near and far

You shall not find until you fall

Upon the stone of your own heart,

The Dragon’s in you sleeping:

The Dragon’s in you sleeping.

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About Dianne Gardner

With a passion for wholesome and entertaining stories, Dianne Lynn Gardner dives into fantasy novels both adult and young adult. She is both a best selling author and an award winning illustrator who lives in the Pacific Northwest, USA. Mother of seven and grandmother of 16, Dianne wants to make sure that books which ignite imaginations, strengthen friendships, spur courage and applaud honor are available to every reader in the world.
This entry was posted in art, Books, fantasy, inspiration, life, Memoirs, musing, musings, Stories, writers. Bookmark the permalink.

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