{Lately martyrdom has been on my mind. Stay tuned on my blog to find out why. But then I caught a stomach bug and was quite miserable. The next day I listened to a sermon by Eric Ludy called "Extraordinary Courage" ... which really stepped on my toes. My thoughts, Mr. Ludy's, and some of Richard Baxter's are included in this prayer}

‘Tis so easy to romanticize
The notion of martyrdom.
The longing inside with the prayer
"Thy kingdom come.”

‘Tis so noble to want to die
For His glorious name,
Yet when the pain comes

Now this is an unedited draft of the first chapter of my book Antrium: REDEMPTION.

Chapter 1: WolfBlade…

Those eyes I see, in the dead of night.
Those eyes I fear will be my demise.
Their red burning in the dead of night
Their white lining glowing like moonlight so fine.
I try to decline
Those eyes so malciouse
His teeth sharp and rigid
Those eyes like fire from hell
Now it is easy to see why so many fell
Into his prison of char and brimstone
A thousands souls never burning alone
Those eyes so cold
Those eyes so bold
They keep me down like a burden on my back
My hope to attack
But I can't do that

**It took me ages. I know. Hopefully you'll like it enough to forgive me for making you wait so long...**

{written after studying Psalm 81}

We shall all fall.

We are all to die, because of our treason.
I look about me. They are all placid; they do not understand.
I shake one, then another.

“Do you not understand?” I cry. “I am doomed! You are doomed! We shall all die! We must get out, get free, get forgiveness!”

Raindrops in my hair;

Cold stillness in the air.

The bugle notes pierce

Our hearts; beating fierce.

People; faces; words;

Distant; like southern birds.

Smiling to hide the fear;

Not meeting eyes clear.

Raindrops in my hair;

Blue balloons the wind bear.

The string slides though my hand

Rising high above the land.

She goes about her life like nothing happened. She tries to forget, tries to push it out of her mind.   She sees a mother holding her child in her arms So innocent so precious a gift of life.   She holds her head in her hands waves of depression tides of regret wash over her; drowns her.   she tries to block it out,  treis to forget the life  that was inside of her, but she can't. She thinks, That could have been me. My baby. I've killed my baby what have I done?

Chapter One: Back to the Beginning

Julian shivered in the darkling downpour that had cemented his hair to his forehead for the past two days. His tunic, once blue and gold, cleaved to his knees in tatters. All he could wish for that night was a dry place to lie down. Likely to die, he thought, his long eyelashes swiping at the rain in his eyes. Every story ends with—

I stare at the notice, blinking once, twice, thrice.  Since I first saw it, I’ve tried to wrap my mind around it all, but I can’t—not yet.

I turn away and wander down the hall. Ten years’ worth of adventures adorns the walls, tales of knights, dragons and damsels, and strange worlds beyond understanding. Some of these works will be rolled up and taken to new locations; others will remain, quietly gathering dust.