If you’re reading this ….
... you’ve obviously passed the Zam, because otherwise, you wouldn’t own a tablet to receive it.
Hi ya!
I’ve been thinking about what to do with this Substack, and I think I have a plan! The 2nd weekend of the month, you’ll be able to read something about how I built my characters or the world they inhabit, as well as an encouraging word - because we all need a bit of that, don’t we?
The 4th weekend, you’ll get a sneak peak at a scene from one of the books, but from a different character’s point of view! For the first few months, this will be free, to give you a taster. But eventually, I’m afraid there will be a small cost. Because it would be great to be able to raise some finances to actually get these books properly published - you know, hard copies you can hold in your hands and turn real pages as you read them.
Anyway, as this is 4th weekend in May, here’s the first …
In the first chapters of ‘Crossing the Boundary’, there is a third character present. She is mentioned, but not seen to participate in the key moments. And yet, the Prologue shows that she was not just there in the background, but actively observing what happened.
So then, what did Gladys Dea think about the meeting of Chimma Haddon and Denzin Walker? Let’s find out.
Gladys worked her way up the street, clutching her cane carefully. There were not enough words to express how good it felt to be free again!
Two weeks she’d been in lockdown after being diagnosed with the Sick. This was her first day out, and she was going to make the most of it.
Eagerness to get to the Fest Caff drove her on. A few of the Gathered often met there in twos and threes around the small tables. How she’d missed the fellowship of the fellow believers.
And that young girl. Chimma. Senda had had her keep an eye on that girl for a while now. That’s why Gladys had encouraged the Gathered to move from the caff a few blocks away to the Fest-Caff. Just why Senda had done that was beyond Gladys’ knowledge, but she had made a guess or two, and stored them up in the privacy of her own consideration.
A glance at the sky hurried her steps. Clouds were building. A suddenly was on the way.
Back when she was young, she loved to slip outside when one of the new, huge thunderstorms hit. The lightning scored bright paths across the sky – and her retinas – along with the near-deafening boom of the thunder, sending a thrill through her body like nothing else could.
“Come in, Glad!” Mum would shout. “It’s not safe out there!”
But Gladys obeyed only reluctantly. Life resonated through her with the power of the storms. She could dance in them all day! If Mum would allow it.
At her age, though, she was consigned to watch the storm from behind panes of glass. Dancing in the all-to-frequent suddenlies was now beyond her.
A young man was plodding down the street behind her, hands shoved into his pockets. A gust of wind rose up behind him, as if in pursuit.
With a peek over her shoulder, she hurried her step. He was quickly gaining on her, and by the look on his face he was either troubled or ready to cause trouble. Probably both, she mused. That’s how things usually were, after all.
The door of the Fest-Caff opened with a slight squeal as always. Mr. Chat kept meaning to fix it, but never seemed to have time to actually do it. Probably because he was rarely there.
The man hurried past, muttering slightly as the door closed behind her.
Chimma was at the counter.
“Good afternoon Chimma, dear!”
“Good afternoon back at you, Mrs. Dea!” She brushed a few stray hairs from her face with the back of her hand. The poor girl worked so hard. “How are you today? Haven’t seen you for a while.”
“Yeah, I had the Sick the other week, so had to stay home. Health visitor today gave me the green light, so I’m out to bug you again. Oops,” Gladys tried not to laugh, “bug-free now, actually!”
Chimma handed Gladys a bowl of soup, brimming to near overflowing. Always so generous, this sweet girl was.
“Look at that, you got here just in time, Mrs. Dea.”
Gladys’ eyes followed hers. The tempest was beating against the window as if knocking to come in.
Chimma gestured to an empty table near the window. There was that man again, his head bowed, hands in his pockets, fighting the torrent.
Something about him caught her attention. Gladys found herself hurrying to the table, her eyes as stuck to him as the rain had plastered his hair to his forehead.
He passed by again a few minutes later. And again. And each time, Gladys watched him careful. Senda was interested in that boy for some reason. She was determined to find out why.
It wasn’t a surprise, really, when the next time he went by, that dear girl hurried past her. The wind tousled Glady’s hair as it tried to wrest the door from Chimma’s hand.
The soaked figure outside stopped at her call. A moment later, he entered the Fest-Caff, half of the storm now forming a growing puddle beneath him.
Of course, Chimma scurried around, caring for him. Just like she did everyone who with her orbit.
Then, she sat down with him!
And Senda opened a door in Gladys’ memory. Assigning faces to titles she’d treasured in her heart for years. Decades even.
They’d found one another at last! Oh, Gladys knew Chimma mattered. And that boy – all that intensity he carried, now she understood why!
The Designed had met his Strength!
In far too short a time, the suddenly ended – suddenly, as usual – and the sun broke through the clouds. And with it, hope yet again broke through Gladys’ spirit.
Senda did indeed keep his promises.
A few minutes later, she left the Caff, following that boy. He turned a corner, and the sun dazzled her at it reflected of every watery surface. By the time she had her vision back, he was gone.
But not forever. No indeed. She would see him again. Gladys was sure of that.