Monday Musings: The Butterfly Fields - His Grace

No gent of The Butterfly Fields may hold a candle to His Grace. Aye, he is the most generous man with all that is his to give. Annalicia could not possibly imagine such a man as he. The Lady Iris has made this so. How is it I could fear one such as she, when she has done naught but to treat me well? It is she who has clothed me in fine rainments when I had naught but rags in my wardrobe. It is she who has sat by my bedside nursing me to health. It is she who has welcomed me to her home. Nay, I cannot fear one who has only given me hope in the dark of the night.

Since the first night of our meeting, His Grace has given me all that my heart desires. He comes for me in fine carriages. He gifts me with the finest jewels and perfumes. Dare I dream he may love one such as I? Nay...nay I cannot. Yet, my heart fills with joyous rapture at the very sight of him. How is it my head and my heart can be in such conflicted disagreement? How is it I shall run to the window when dusk falls to seek his carriage upon the road? What is this that has befallen me? Have I been beguiled by such a man as His Grace, the Duke? Or, is it I whom has beguiled he? I know not. It matters not.

The first night we waltzed into the deepest depths of the hours of night. The moon hung in the sky as though witness to a wish upon a shooting star coming true. All the night my feet ne'er touched the floor as I whirled about in the mesmerizing pools of his eyes. Although the room be filled with all the gentry of the land, there was naught but he and I. There was a safety in the arms which enveloped me. I dared not breathe for fear it would all melt away and I awaken in the loneliness of the dark. The scent of his hair lingers in my nostrils. The sound of his voice soothes the anixiety which pounds in my chest. It was my only wish and desire to tarry but a bit longer when the night had come to an end. Aye, but a true gent he is. He bade me farewell at the door of the carriage of Lady Iris. I watched as his visage disappeared into the midnight hour.

The days and weeks since the first night have created in me sensations I have not known. The very thought of his arrival gives my stomach cause to wrench with anticipation, and my heart to pause until the next gasp of air. Dear Richard has come to wonder if I have taken leave of my senses altogether as he has caught me singing in my own company. Lady Carin assures him I have complete control, I have only found that which my heart desires most. They laugh together at the very thought of it, yet Richard carries a sense of unrest. I know not what it is that causes him such sorrow in his heart. I should think he would share in my joy, yet he does not. His voice is silent more oft than not these past weeks. I am certain it is the difficulties of his studies. It can be nothing more than this. In my heart, I truly care not. I can only think of him, His Grace.

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I hope you have enjoyed this week's preview into The Butterfly Fields. I am working diligently to finish. I will announce the official release date here on the Butterfly Phoenix blog first. Have a wonderful week everyone!

Happy Saturday: The Better Angels of Our Nature

"Let triumph 'the better angels of our nature'." ~ Abraham Lincoln

In the early morning hours of the day, I sit to write. The sun has yet to creep over the horizon and I am already clicking away at the keys.

As the words begin to flow onto the page, I wonder; what good will come of this? How will it make the world a better place than I found it?

Coming off Halloween and racing headlong into the holiday season, thoughts of humanity come to my mind. I wonder if the great classic authors and poets had the same thoughts when they wrote their stories and poetry. Did they think about humanity? Humanness? Or, more importantly, the impact their prose would have on society? Did they wonder about their legacy?Every genre, in the writing world, has the opportunity to triumph the better angels of their nature.

The authors who write romance triumph the better angels of their nature through the propogation of what is it to be a human being in love. It doesn't matter in what sub-genre of romance they are writing, it's all in the perspective of the reader. Hundreds of years from now, when 'old' romance novels are downloaded from the e-libraries, the world will know exactly what it was to be in love, in the 21st century.

Fantasy, Science-Fiction, and SteamPunk writers triumph the better angles of their nature through the wonders of imagination. Carefully building worlds where strength, courage, endurance, and sometimes love prevail over the darkness of evil, the world will know these authors had hope for the future; hope for the continuation of the human existence.

And let us not forget those authors who craft stories of the horrific and terrifying. Yes, even they too triumph the better angels of their nature through exposing the true fears of the human being. When the world has morphed into something we cannot fathom, in our 21st century mind, they will know what it was that frightened us the most.

The list of genres is long and comprehensive. It is the wholeness of the human existence. Each printed word, sentence and paragraph, tell the story of the human being; the story of Earth in the times of each author. Today, we look back on those we consider the greatest authors of all time and find comfort in the words they left for us; their stories and recordings of the days in which they lived, loved and laughed.

The people of tomorrow will look back on those they consider the greatest authors of all time and read the legacy we have left for them - the better angels of our nature.