Sneak Peek: The Pretty Wings Chronicles, Book 2 - Prologue (unedited version)

I knew I would love her. Even my thirteen year old heart detected the skip in beat, when I saw her that first time.  I still can’t pinpoint the exact cause of the skip.

Maybe it was the way she walked on the balls of her feet with a rhythm and sway that made me imagine at any moment she would launch into dance. The grace and flow of her movements creating beats in my head, and making my hands itch to write a new melody, just to see her dance to it.

Maybe it was her smile. No . . . not just her smile alone; it was her smile paired with a look of confidence as she walked down Main Street, where everyone present stopped what they were doing to openly gape at her. She didn’t even appear to notice their glares, although it was impossible to miss them. Instead she added extra pep in her step, a subtle middle finger to the disdain filled faces following her every movement.

Maybe it was the way she gripped her sister’s hand with one of her own while her other arm draped protectively around the smaller version of herself’s shoulder.

Maybe, through all the attention and stares she ignored, my heart skipped a beat because it was my stare she acknowledged.

Looking into those resilient green eyes, I saw it all: That melodic walk of hers falter; her smile fade slowly as her mouth fell slightly open; the grip relax on her sister’s shoulder.

The longing I felt for her was reflected back at me through her eyes. Love at first sight, didn’t seem like such a crazy notion to me now. There is no question, no doubt, no misinterpretation; I always knew I would love her.

I knew she was different. Maybe it was the way she twirled and leaped, her arms and body swaying to a beat, yet there was no music to be heard. I thought I was the only one who walked through life with a soundtrack blaring in my head, as a backdrop to my thoughts and actions. I carried a notepad with me everywhere to jot down the endless flow of lyrics that came to me. She didn’t need a notepad. She created entire symphonies in her mind, but her body translated it into dance.

           

Maybe it was her ever changing mahogany tresses. I’d never seen or felt hair like hers before. I loved running my fingers through it. One day they were a mass of unruly, springy curls; standing out in every direction, demanding to be noticed. If you were lucky enough to touch them you’d find they were textured and soft. The next day her long locks would be straightened, smooth and silky and you’d wonder if you imagined the massive crown the day before. One day braids . . . one day twists. Always something new to discover.

Maybe it was in the way we were able to complete each other’s sentences. She knew me in a way no one else took the time to. She valued my thoughts, encouraged my dreams . . . we were artistic soul mates. I was the musician she was the dancer. Always completing each other.

            Maybe it was her ability to see the positive, when everything around us was negative. She found the treasure hidden in the trash, the love underneath every hateful word.

            Maybe she was different because I was hers and she was mine.

I knew I would lose her. Loving her wasn’t an option or a choice. Loving her was embedded deep inside of me . . . awakened by her presence. My love for her came as natural to me as breathing. One soul existing in two separate bodies that became whole again when our eyes connected.  My love for her is omnipresent, all consuming, and life affirming.

As much as I felt the love . . . I felt the loss just as deeply. It crept up on us daily. It was inevitable. Even the brightest light will fade one day. Nothing this beautiful lasts forever.

At thirteen I found my soul mate.

Five years, six months, three weeks, twelve hours.

That was the amount of time my heart was full.

That was the amount of time I lived a dream.

That was the amount of time I experienced what it was like to truly love and be loved.

It was the best of times; it was the worst of times. I finally understood why Mrs. Hildebrand made us read that Dickens book. That quote summed up my life.

Five years, six months, three weeks, twelve hours.

During this time people I knew my entire life became strangers to me.

During this time a place I was born and raised in became foreign.

During this time I learned the true meaning of hate.

“Protecting and guiding humans on earth” . . . that is a defining characteristic of an

angel. She did that for me and everyone around her. At eighteen my life was irreversibly altered. God took my figurative angel and turned her into one literally.

Five years, six months, three weeks, twelve hours. I’d give you the minutes and even down to the seconds if I could, but I wasn’t there when my heart stopped beating.

She was my heart.

I’m certain time stopped when my heart skipped a beat that second time. Even hundreds of miles away I knew. But who really cares about time? Counting our time together no longer mattered. It never did, to anyone except me. The music in my head stopped playing, but why would it continue? She would never dance for me again.

Everything ended when she did.

My heart skipped a beat when I fell in love with her. It skipped again . . . the same night our soul was severed.

Copyright © 2015 by A.F. Diamond

All rights reserved

  
 

SNEAK PEEK: Surviving Harmony: Prologue

January 7, 2002

Harmony, NE

 Darkness is defined as the absence or lack of light.

At this very moment, that definition not only describes my surroundings, it describes me. The fact that I’m still breathing is the only light in my life that’s left.  Everything else feels dark. Dead.

I’ve been pulling against the rope so long, I can no longer feel my wrists. All I feel is the wetness dripping down my arm. I don’t know if the darkness is due to the time of day or just the fact that I cannot open my eyes since my face was used as a punching bag by the monsters keeping me in my own private version of hell.

I lie here shivering on the cold concrete floor, and no longer count the seconds going by. I no longer pray for a savior that I know isn’t coming. I simply bask in the nothingness.

I never would have thought that I would long to feel numb, but after being subjected to so much pain, my brain has short circuited and now I feel nothing—and feeling nothing is much better than what I’ve endured for the last two days. Wait . . . has it been two or three days? I’ve lost concept of time. I’m just happy that the monsters have gone away and left me in my darkness. Although I doubt it was their intent, to gift me the quiet. It is a dark paradise I revel in.

We grow up with “stranger danger” drilled into our heads. We learn to fear the stranger who offers candy to lure us to some unknown hideout to do despicable things. Strangers will hurt us and steal us away from our families. Strangers attack ladies who go for jogs alone. Strangers are monsters who possess the power to hurt us.    

But the monster that lured me away didn’t need candy. The lure was acceptance, love, things I thought my friend was offering. 

That’s the problem with “stranger danger:” nothing is ever edified about fearing the monsters we know. The people who live among us, gain our trust and use it against us, doing far worse than any stranger ever could. 

I learned this lesson a little too late.

I understand God punishing me for my stupidity. My mother always said I was too trusting. My sister Tangy used the word innocent. I can accept my fate because maybe I deserve this for being so naïve, and trusting whatever I’m told. But why, oh why, did she have to follow me? Now they are teaching us both lessons we will never forget. I just pray we will get the chance to learn from them. I pray we live through this experience so history will never be forced to repeat itself. If I am ever able to get out of this place, trust will only be granted to the deserving, if it’s granted at all. If I try really hard, maybe I can focus on finding a way out of this hell. 

Warm air blows against my skin, and though I should welcome it, I don’t. Whenever the warm air returns, so do they. 

I try to mentally prepare myself for what’s next. I know I can’t stop whatever they have planned but I can retreat to that place in my head where I don’t feel much. If I survive this I know one thing for certain, I will never let my guard down again. I won’t be so trusting and naïve. I will never leave myself open for another monster to deceive me.

 

 

 

 

Surviving Harmony

Copyright © 2015 by A.F. Diamond

All rights reserved

 

 

 

Surviving Harmony: A Pretty Wings Novel

My debut novel, Surviving Harmony: A Pretty Wings Novel, is now for sale on Amazon.  Here is a summary of the book:

The author…

Aislin Somers walks through life haunted by the monsters of a past she can’t escape. For twelve years she has shut herself off from the real world, but her rising success as an author forces her into the spotlight where she’ll have to face her fears. Will shedding her anonymity and stepping out of the shadows allow a New Monster to find a way to her doorstep?

The actor…

Taylor Mandrake is a rising star. Often spotted with several of Hollywood’s sexiest starlets, he’s developed a reputation as a bit of a playboy—willing to share his bed but never his heart. Until he meets her.

He’s everything she could ever want.
Charming.
Sexy.
Smart.
Gentle.
Affectionate.
Understanding.
Loving.
Passionate.

However, his past may be all it takes to convince Aislin that he can’t be trusted with her fragile heart.

When these two guarded souls come together, will they be able to survive the monsters of their pasts in order to embrace the love of their future?