She stepped out onto the ice, holding tightly to her dad’s hand. Her little striped mitten peeped out form his glove. She looked up at him with a smile in her eyes, excitement radiating from her. Her purple hat fell down halfway over her eyes. Her other hand gripped the wall of the rink fiercely. The skates were wobbly. The ground was slippery. Every time she would try to let go of the wall an eruption of butterflies would break out in her stomach and she would pull herself back with a squeal. It was such fun, so new, so exciting; but she had to take it slow.
Finally her dad convinced her it was time to leave the safety of the wall. He took both her hands in his and gently guided her out into the middle of the rink. It felt like flying! She soared across the ice, comfortable only in the protective hands of her dad.
Sometimes, we need to take things slowly. We have to hold onto something for support in the beginning. We start with baby steps and one day our work may grow into something beautiful. With our heavenly Father holding us securely in His hand, we can soar.
I think it’s about time that I shared a little about my current story. This is after all, a writing blog! Over the last two years I have been working on this story. The message is really on my heart and the characters have made me love them. I am still working on the first draft, I don’t have a title and it has been going pretty slow, but it’s because I care so much about it and want to do it right. Maybe I should forget about that and just get it done, maybe I should spend more time on it, maybe I should set bigger goals. But right now, I’m just enjoying seeing this story come to life. I love watching scenes unfold as the characters spill out their secrets to me. Anyhow, here is a small snippet from Chapter two:
His hair was pulled back by a leather cord at the nape of his neck, keeping it out of his face as he sighted down the barrel. Pressing the butt of his musket deeper into the folds of his kilt at his shoulder Cameron adjusted his stance slightly. He hesitated. A cold bead of sweat broke out on his forehead and he felt his arms go weak. Not now, he knew he could make this shot. He must! He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, familiar words running through his mind.
“He maketh my feet like hinds’ feet, and setteth me upon my high places.
He teacheth my hands to war, so that a bow of steel is broken by mine arms.”
The rhythm and reassurance of the Psalm steadied him as he opened his eyes. One of the Dragoons lifted his rifle. Cameron took careful aim, still reciting in his mind.
“Thou hast also given me the shield of thy salvation: and thy right hand hath holden me up…”
He slid his finger into position and inhaled deeply. The soldier steadied his arm, squinted down the barrel, touched the trigger. A deafening crack shook the valley.
Cameron’s eyes darted to Kieran, his ears still ringing from the shot. A puzzled expression crossed Kieran’s face. The Dragoon who had fired was furious, red with rage at his miss. The other Soldier only laughed and stepped forward preparing to fire. Cameron lifted his musket, ignoring the clammy cool of his sweaty palms.
“…and thy gentleness hath made me great. Thou hast enlarged my steps under me, that my feet did not slip.”
The Soldier took his aim carelessly, confident of his shot. The rifle caught the sun on its polished steel. Cameron winced as the beam shot straight into this eyes. For a moment he was blinded, blinking furiously, trying to distinguish his target from the spots of light that danced in front of him. BANG! The shot rang out across the small valley accompanied by a cry of pain and echoed back and forth among the hillocks, radiating outward from where Kieran’s body slumped limp against the tree.
Cameron choked on a stifled outcry of horror. He had been too late. He his mind battled against his body, keeping him from charging into the open and certain death. He must think clearly. It would help nothing to get himself shot. He took another deep breath, the soldiers were arguing again. He summoned all his wits and crept along the outskirts of the wood. He was behind them now.
“I have pursued mine enemies, and overtaken them: neither did I turn again till they were consumed.”
With a wild cry he darted forward and slammed the butt of his musket into the back of the cocky one’s head. He fell senseless to the ground. His companion made a mad rush at Cameron, a dagger in his outstretched hand and his rifle in the other. Cameron swung his musket again, catching him a forceful blow to the wrist. The dagger dropped, its owner’s hand numb and limp with the shock. Dropping his gun, Cameron bulldozed into the man’s middle and knocked him breathless to the ground wrenching the rifle from his grasp and casting it aside.
The soldier beat at Cameron in desperation, flinging wild fists willy-nilly in his surprise and rage. Cameron returned the blows with a strapping punch that rendered his hand useless. Pain radiated through his arm and on into his shoulder. Thus severely disabled, he slacked off for a moment, allowing the man a chance to catch his breath. Summoning all his remaining strength the Dragoon flipped Cameron onto his back. He thought he had won, triumph spreading over his face in a dangerous grin. He was not prepared for what happened next.
Cameron recoiled with a powerful kick that sent the Dragoon hurtling off him. In the same movement Cameron was on his feet, grasping his musket and charging towards the soldier who lay face up on the dew-sodden turf. The man sank down under his blow.
“I have wounded them that they were not able to rise: they are fallen under my feet. For thou hast girded me with strength unto the battle: thou hast subdued under me those that rose up against me,” his voice trembled and his left hand shook uncontrollably now as he gripped his musket.
That’s what I’ve been working on friends! Right now, it’s just baby steps. But my hope is that one day, with the help of my heavenly Father, this story will soar!
To God alone be the glory forever!
~ Sarah Leana