Franki deMerle is one of the strongest advocates for writers out there. Her fascinating work delves into interesting and mysterious topics such as reincarnation. When we decided to do our special “Humor Meets… Days”, we tried to fit Franki’s work into one of the “normal” genres but nothing worked so we decided to have “Franki deMerle Genre” Day. Here are four excerpts from three of her novels. She also has two collections of poetry published entitled Ripples on the Surface and Child of the Universe
This is the last “Humor meets other Genre Day” of the summer although watch out for our horror show in October! –
From Deception Past: One night Sand and Steve decided to go camping south of Huntsville by Guntersville Lake. They wanted some fresh air without the usual daytime heat and humidity, and they also had decided it was time for Sand to face her fear of fire, which centered on Clarabelle’s murder, her nightmares, and her memories of the past. They found a campsite, built a fire, and stayed up late that night just watching the fire and keeping it going. It was a clear night, and the stars were spectacular without the city street lights. Steve drifted off to sleep. “As the night grew long and the temperature dropped, Sand tried to stay focused on the positive aspects of fire: how fire had been necessary for human survival over the centuries, its comfort of light and warmth, and its utility in cooking food. Then she noticed the dancing shadows that the flickering fire was projecting onto the trees nearby. As she stared at the shadows, they weren’t sinister or threatening. They seemed to paint patterns as she watched. After a while, a Chinese man emerged in shadow form against the trunk of a pine tree. To Sand he appeared reminiscent of the Buddha, and he appeared to be reading from a book as thousands of smaller figures paraded before him. It occurred to Sand that he was reading from the Book of the Dead, and what he was reading were the names of the smaller figures passing before him. Then she saw that the light, which was all one light, was reaching down into the smaller figures’ physical bodies like thousands of fingers from the hand of God. It seemed to Sand that as the large shadowy man read each name, the finger of light withdrew from the body back into God’s hand, and the body passed into the shadows to become one with the greater darkness.
From
Dragonfly Dreams: There are places we can reach only in our dreams while our bodies sleep. Daphne Robin liked to imagine these were the places of heaven and hell, the places where one went when one was free of a physical body. Being in a body was more like purgatory. In her dreams she was free to fly. Sometimes she found she could ‘consciously’ control events in her dreams in ways she never could in waking life. She read that this was called lucid dreaming, and that some came by it naturally, while others could be taught to do it. For Daphne it was a natural gift, and it was total freedom.
From
Five Flowers: Although I was now awake, the dream I had still lingered over me like a mist not yet burned off by the sun. In the dream, I lived in a far away and very cold land in some olden, primitive time. My father in the dream, who was not my father now, was a tall, handsome king with red hair. My clothes were plain, simple, and practical. Then right before my eyes, I saw my red-haired father turn into a small boy. He took my hand, and as he did, a golden crown studded with jewels appeared on his small head. As he led me into a chapel, I was aware of being in my present time. He led me to the altar, where we stood before a coffin, and he placed a ring on my finger. The red stone in the ring was shaped like a pomegranate. Then I awoke. It was so very strange–I dared not mention it to anyone.”
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I awoke as if from a long, deep sleep. I didn’t know where I was. I remembered breathing fresh air and feeling a slight breeze on my face, but I could feel nothing now. I realized there was no pain–only peace. I looked around to see where I was. I saw blue sky around me. Was I in heaven? All was quiet.
Then I looked down and saw a strange sight far below me, as if I hovered in the sky. I could see the scaffold. There were no people around–just one small body in a red petticoat. Her head with its dark hair soaked in blood was lying nearby–what a strange sight. I knew it had been my body, but I wondered why it was still there with no one around. There had been a crowd of people, a swordsman somewhere, and two ladies attending me. I felt strangely numb and at peace, but I found it curious that my body was neglected so. I felt very sad. It seemed unkind.
I kept a silent but peaceful vigil above the scaffold as I watched over what I had once identified as myself. Eventually a man I did not know, dressed as a common laborer, appeared from inside the Tower with an empty arrow chest. He gently placed my head and body inside. I was grateful for this stranger’s kindness–and he was but a commoner. If I had been able, I would have wept at the sight. I did not bother to follow to see what the kind commoner did with my coffin, the arrow chest. I preferred to picture it laid to rest somewhere with bouquet of sweet, white lilies on it. How odd that this kind commoner had more decency than the entire king’s court.
Thanks, Thomas. So much of my work comes from my dreams, and I first started writing poetry in my sleep. I’m currently working on another historical reincarnation novel and another collection of poetry.
Very cool. I’m intrigued by the dream world. Thanks, more please.