The Waterfall

It was all too much for her to consume.  A waterfall of sheer satin plunged over rocks lined with a draping of moss. Was the doorway behind the curtain of water? The gates to heaven that Rahab had told her about.  Where the washing away of sins took place?

She looked at Mo. His arms were crossed over his chest - his right hand cradling his left elbow, his left hand cradling his right elbow.  

For as long as she could remember, that was how he opened up the airways to his asthmatic lungs with his stomach drawn in and shoulders lifted. 

His eyes were as luminous as the silvery light penetrating through the canopy of trees above.

"How did you find this place, Mo?" She asked.

"Clement found it. He made me promise not to tell anyone. It is his hideout for him and his chicks."

"You won't tell anyone..." Mo smiled.

"I won't."

- a snippet from my book.


My photographer friend Diane and I visited Freeman's Mill Park (Gwinnett County) this weekend. This waterfall is a mini version of one near my family's home on the slopes of Mt. Kilimanjaro. I love finding muses like this that enrich my writing process.



Popular posts from this blog

Swallow Me

See the World, No Visa Required