Overwhelmed by a plotbunny!

Photo by Tyler NixOh. My. Goodness. A huge plotbunny overwhelmed me this morning, just as I’m gearing up to write Book 2 of my space opera series this summer.

It’s about as far from science fiction as it could be. Fallen angels living and working on Earth, and possibly, probably, one of its main characters being a biromantic asexual Christian clergywoman of whichever denomination I settle on eventually.

It will continue on from – and definitely mine deeper into – the world of my first ever published book, Beauty and the Bastard, the rights for which returned to me some time ago.

This idea feels delicious. Delightfully dark urban fantasy with some deep theology, 25 years after I studied it. I’ll need to brush up on my eschatology, and more.

All that remains is to decide where it will fit into my to-be-written schedule. And then to write it. 🙂

Summer Storm

Photo by Max Larochelle

Electricity fills this heavy afternoon

with the aftertaste of a copper coin

and leaves a bitter puckering,

a thirst for freshness.

Birds swoop in manic dives,
in-flight fuelling on insects
under high pressure, shocked
into a brief low-level existence.

Earth opens her pores and

releases her oldest odour.

Distant sounds carry with eerie
clarity, disturb equilibrium,
infuse numbed senses with
a hint of imminent danger.

The valley holds its breath….

except for the rabbits

coupling in apocalyptic frenzy,
drawing comfort from everyday activities

on this,
the last day;

trying desperately to increase

their species survival statistics
as the end of the world approaches.
Until, at the last moment,
even they seek sanctuary.

The air trembles, and stretches, and

shatters into sharp light, jagged
particles ripping normality
apart,
tracing a pattern too large
to be understood here, at local level;

explodes into magnetic sound
so loud as to be utterly silent
here, at ground zero,
where the nerve centre receives a signal
from eardrums too shocked to comprehend,
via a brain in the process of liquation.

Awestruck.

Helpless.

Awestruck.

The valley is frozen in space, in time,
isolated in white stroboscopic light,
suspended inside living sound,
naked within a force of creation.

In an instant,
in a quick blink:
it never happened.

The pressure lifts, and heavy

drops of rain wash the air clean.
The thoughtful earth drinks deep.
Memory stirs like an unshared dream,

filed away for now.

For now the earth hums,
the stream sings,
the trees drum,
and the rabbits dance.

 

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