Authors: Donna Galanti
A Hidden Element (30 page)
Rachel, come, unwrap my heart and set me free in you.
But she remained lost to him. The trees rocked and the white turned black. He couldn't stay awake. He placed his face on the snow. So cool and welcoming.
Laura's words floated to him through blessed darkness. "It can't end this way."
"Don't screw this up," Ben yelled. "You'll be damning yourselves with these people from another world."
"I'm part of their world, too," Laura pleaded. "I can heal this man. His name is Caleb Madroc and he has the power to bring the dead back to life. His people came here for a new life. Don't end it before it's begun!"
Silence covered Caleb like the numbness that crept across his limbs.
And then soft hands moved across his legs and arms. They touched him with tenderness, filling him with a life force. It grew like a light inside, warming his soul.
"This is the only thing I can give you," Laura whispered. Her breath pulsed across his cheek. Snow crunched. More hands moved across him. He opened his eyes. Charlie worked his body.
And his sons.
They knelt before him in the snow and placed their small hands on his face. Such warmth in such cold.
"Father," they said in unison and his heart cracked wide open.
His skin stitched up. His wounds stopped bleeding. His life force grew strong. "Must. Get. To. Tollen," he rasped out. "Before it's too late."
Laura and Charlie helped him up. He lumbered to Tollen and bent down to him.
He willed life back into the one person who wanted him dead.
Tollen opened his eyes, focused on him then pursed his lips. "Dead! You should be dead. Your sons dead!"
"So should you," Caleb said. A
piercing
pain stabbed his head. A black haze covered his sight. He punched Tollen in the face with all his might before the pain took over. His former leader crashed down, unconscious.
He jerked Tollen up, holding his arms back, and yelled to the soldiers, "Take this one and drug him, otherwise he'll kill you with his mind powers." The guns were lowered. He sensed the fear and wonder in the soldiers. Their helmets gleamed in the wintry sun, revealing nothing behind their shields. Some shuffled about, fear and unease in their hearts. Caleb shoved Tollen toward the leader who grabbed him and dragged him away.
The men in white moved forward again to quarantine them. Whatever that meant, they were in it together. It had to be a better life than what his father had given them, an honest life.
Laura locked eyes with Caleb then took a step toward the army. Holding her family's hands she walked with them toward their new world. A world of good. He had loved her in the brief moments they had. She had unraveled his heart to be filled again. And he could now give his full heart away—to his sons.
He looked down at them.
I'll find your mother.
They nodded and each took one of his hands, fitting perfectly in his.
There was nothing to hide now. The world would know what he was.
Laura turned back to smile at him, and he stepped toward his future.
~ * ~
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Dear Reader,
Is there a writer gene and is storytelling genetic? I like to think that we either are storytellers or we aren't.
When I read pieces of my work in public, I often forget how dark my writing can be. One event coordinator noted the comedy in my reading about heads popping in vices and whatnot as I peered up with innocent eyes.
This led me to wonder if there are sub categories of the writer gene just like there are sub genres in writing. If there is a "dark" writer gene, well, that fits me perfectly. I like writing from the dark places. To spiral my characters into tragedy—with a dash of hope. On the page I can act out horrific events by evil people and never get arrested. My blood pumps a bit quicker. My fingers fly faster over the keyboard. My husband wants to know how I can write this stuff.
Ancient history was full of folks inducing pain in real people, not just characters on the page. Back then people acted out their aggressions upon the unfortunate ones, who were ripped to shreds by lions, skewered gladiator style, and tortured by medieval stretch rack.
We're so much safer today reading and writing about tormented characters. If more people would lose themselves in dark writing instead of dark action, we'd all be better off. Plus there is just wicked fun to be had in writing the evil and tormented characters.
This brings me back around to the question, if the writer gene does exist then are writers predisposed to write what they do? Dark fiction, young adult, fantasy, science fiction, romance, memoir. What in our writer gene predisposes us for that? If my son writes some day from the dark places I will know why and probably enjoy it immensely. My husband? Eh, not so much.
~ Donna
Donna Galanti writes murder and mystery with a dash of steam as well as middle grade adventure fiction. She is an International Thriller Writers Debut Author of the paranormal suspense novel
A Human Element
, the short story collection
The Dark Inside
, and
Joshua and The Lightning Road
.
She's lived from England as a child, to Hawaii as a U.S. Navy photographer. Donna dreamed of being a writer when she fell in love with the worlds of Narnia and Roald Dahl while attending school in a magical English castle where her dark imagination ran wild in an itchy uniform (bowler hat and tie included).
She now lives in Pennsylvania with her family in an old farmhouse. It has lots of writing nooks, fireplaces, and stink bugs, but she's still wishing for a castle again—preferably with ghosts.
Website:
http://www.elementtrilogy.com
Blog:
http://www.elementtrilogy.com/blog
Twitter:
http://twitter.com/DonnaGalanti
™
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