The iron chains rattled as the heavy links dangled from the gnarled, twisted old oak. My wrists were peeled, cracked and dripping blood down my forearms and in between my clenched fingers. Every bone in my body ached with agony.
We went into the wilderness without Him. I don’t know what I was thinking. We all knew there were people dying in the wilderness every day. Their hollow and broken cries echoed up the deep ravines and dry riverbeds, bouncing against the stone hewn walls of the ancient fortress that sat just at the foot of the great northern mountains.
Something I find so much more meaningful to write instead of blogs about a current life experiences, is to instead take those experiences and rewrite them as a creative short stories. I am saying this because I’ve decided to make this blog primarily about short stories now. I know many of you have sent me messages or left comments in the past asking me to write more of this type of writing. So I am starting a new chapter to do just that.
So I am finally getting around to sharing my list of top non-fiction books that have most influenced me. Many of these were books I read back in high-school, but had significant influence in my spiritual and emotional growth as a young adult. A few are from later on. It is really is hard to choose my top ten because I have read so many good books over the years, but I am going to force myself to choose.
My sword dripped blood. I gripped the leather strap on the inside of my cracked and chipped shield, dragging it beside me. The bones from wrist to my shoulder ached from the tension and strength it took to keep my shield steady through every attacker’s onslaught. I gratefully sat my shield and sword against a heavy boulder on the edge of the battlefield and painfully sank onto the soft earth beside it. I winced, leaning against the giant rock and gazed out with bleary eyes at the view before me. Black and heavy swirling smoke poured out of gaping holes that pock marked the valley floor. The dead were sprawled out in ugly piles of twisted limbs. The eerie wails of the dying echoed through the haze and smoke. I could see a few soldiers struggling to carry the wounded off the field towards the forest.
I always loved stories growing up, I mean don’t we all. But I didn’t grow up with much tv until my high school years. So all my elementary years are completely immersed in reading. I swear I’ve read over a thousand books since the age of six years old. I’ve been slowly adding to my Goodreads account over the last decade as I remember books I’ve read. I’m currently at 681. I really do love to read. It why I picked English as my major in college. Books just make sense to me. They always have.