The gifts from the written word are learning about life, embracing the lives of characters, seeing the unseen, and touching your spirit.
Monday, November 20, 2017
RWISA RISING WRITER, D.L. FINN
CONGRATULATIONS TO D.L. FINN FOR RWISA RISING WRITER FOR NOVEMBER. MS. FINN IS AN ACCOMPLISHED
AND VERSATILE WRITER. SHE IS A MEMBER OF RRBC AND RWISA.
TODAY SHE IS SHARING AN EXCERPT FROM HER
BOOK, "THIS SECOND CHANCE."
Excerpt from “THIS SECOND CHANCE”
They hovered over the familiar woman in the wedding dress. She looked terrified, and on the day that she should be at her happiest.
“You are getting a chance most do not get. You understand that, right?” Zelina asked.
He meekly nodded at her. Her brown eyes narrowed, piercing his soul. She clearly didn’t like him—not that he blamed her.
“Good. We are clear. You give Rachael her happy ending. Then you can move on and let go of some of that bad you did,” Zelina said, pursing her lips tightly together.
Her pale silver gown flowed around her like an ocean wave ebbing in and out. He never understood how angels’ clothes did that yet, at the same time, kept their form enough to cover them modestly.
“I understand, and I’m grateful I’ve been given this second chance. I won’t let you, or Rachael, down. I’ll do whatever it takes to make it happen,” he replied, more confidently than he felt.
Although it confused him that he was being given this chance, he’d never question this angel. He certainly didn’t deserve it and hadn’t had a moment’s peace since his death.
Everything he’d done flashed before him—over and over. He was relieved to have a break from it and a chance to finally do some good, but he was merely a ghost—a soul, or a man without a body. What could he do to take away that expression on Rachael’s face?
“Yes, it is a break from your much-earned reflections.” Zelina crossed her arms, obviously irritated at him.
He felt his face redden as he nodded back at her. In this form he felt all the physical and emotional reactions he had when he was alive, but stronger. He needed to remember that angels always knew what he was thinking. He had no privacy now.
“I had to watch Rachael make some bad mistakes. I will not do this again; this is too important. You must figure out how to fix this and make your atonement. You know the rules. If I see you doing any harm, I will send you back. This is your only chance to do some good. I will be watching if you need some guidance, but I think you will figure it out,” Zelina finished, suddenly seeming taller to him.
Her black hair glowed as she put her hands on her hips with her wings fully extended. He never tired of seeing the shimmering, feathered wings that reminded him of a peacock tail. They were beautiful. Under all that splendor, he knew, there was a ferociousness akin to a bear protecting her young. Rachael was her cub.
When her wings were tucked behind her, unseen, Zelina seemed perfectly ordinary. She could walk among the humans unnoticed. She turned her gaze on him again and scowled. She oversaw people like him—the tough cases. He sighed. Zelina responded to his sigh with a smirk. On Earth that look would have infuriated him, coming from a woman. Now it scared him.
A sudden chill ran through him. “Is someone else here?” he asked.
“It is not a someone; it is more of a thing, and it is what you are up against. It has no conscience, unlike even someone like you; your conscience peeked out after your reign of terror. This thing has no empathy, no love—only hate. I cannot hear what it thinks. It is the purest form of evil and is called an evildwel. This one has consumed its human—even in death. You had one in control of you, but a part of you remained. Death might have saved you, or you might have fought it off someday. I do not know things like that. What I do know is that this evildwel means Rachael harm. Be careful, and do not disappoint me,” Zelina warned, and then she vanished.
In the corner of the room, there was no form for him to make out, only thick, dark mist. Did the evildwel know he was there? He suddenly wished Zelina hadn’t left him. He was afraid, yet he was going to do what Zelina requested—not because he had no choice, but because he had a lot of things to make up for. It was time to get to work.
Rachael’s detachment from the image in the mirror smoothing the satin, off-white wedding gown puzzled her. After all, this was the same scalloped three-quarter dress, showing off her newly trim waist, that she’d pictured herself in after seeing it on a Bridal magazine cover over twenty years ago. Frowning, Rachael adjusted the tiny yellow roses and baby’s breath in her Gibson-styled, lightened auburn hair with her set of pink, acrylic nails.
“Not bad for age thirty-seven and three kids,” Rachael tried to reassure the pale image in the mirror.
It didn’t work. The urge to rip off the dress and fake nails and make a dash out the back door was even stronger now.