STORYSPACE: The Hanging – Mood
Even as I learn the new maneuvering of the Mac world, the atmospheric conditions of creative thought come from all directions. From a friend’s missing of home, a feeling that develops into my own character’s sense of loss:
Empty of soul yet swollen with rage, he drove to the mountains, to the place in the woods where Bonnie and he would set out a campsite. He walked up the trail in a stumbling dead man’s pace. The trees held in their thoughts, quiet despite a light breeze, as if in solemn understanding of his oneness. He stopped in the small clearing off the path, stood and looked around. Then he fell to his knees, his body rowing with sobs as his fingers dug into the earth to unbury his heart.
A bit overwritten in this first thought, but I do see him there.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology