THE STORYTELLER’S THRONE BY JOCELYN BATES
Her senses in this world were peaked … Grace could hear things she couldn’t see, see things she couldn’t feel and feel things she couldn’t imagine.
This place didn’t have incessant needs to answer. It didn’t have constant reminders of shoulds, coulds and woulds, and it didn’t speak to her like the world she came from. This world was more like a meditation. It didn’t imprint on her, but rather for the first time since she was six, she felt like she was imprinting on something else … she felt a need rise up … Her chest convulsing, her breath irregular, her eyes tearing, she sobbed as this need found its home inside of her. It had been there so long that it lay deep in her blood, her bones and in the chambers of her heart. How could she not know it was there all this time? She fell to the ground, knees catching her. Her hands pounded the grass as her eyes leaked a bright hazel green into the ground. As her chest convulsed with the power of needing to imprint, Grace let go of something, of a part of herself and as she did, a second Grace flickered into existence, naked beside her. Hands pounding the grass, on her knees leaking bright green hazel color into the ground. Grace’s heart returned to one heartbeat; her vision was clear again, her hands stopped trembling. The calm was gone. Grace felt confidence. Grace felt acceptance. Grace felt Love.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Jocelyn Bates is a homeschooling mama to three and an arts therapist. She lives in NJ and writes in the elusive quiet that settles in the earliest of hours.