Note to reader: I am using this space and place to post parts of a new slip-fiction novel series I am working on, Left Brain Right, the story of a young girl who hears voices. Left-Brain excerpts will be from her care-takers’ point of view or the point of view of the friends and family around her, while right-brain excerpts will describe how she sees the situation. I will not be posting the whole story, but I will be posting practical tips when dealing with someone, or one’s own self, as they are going through traumatic, or not so traumatic, experiences. Please note these are first rough drafts, so there may be spelling and/or grammatical errors.

© 2016 Jennifer Engel, All Rights Reserved, but feed back welcome.:)

How today’s story excerpt can help you:

Theme: Sometimes we get too comfortable in the uncomfortable that we give up and surrender into dwelling in dull, gray settings.

In today’s story excerpt, Michelle, the main character meets people who were also searching for their lost light, but gave up and ended up dwelling in a dull, gray setting.

Right

Meditation Session 18: Cave Dwellers
Spirit Time meets November 6th

Cue the floating flute music.
Dim lights, eyes closed,
down into the darkness I go,
into the entrance of a cavern opening.

An opening hidden
deep under a mountain
and within it
a hidden make-shift village.

At the center of the village,
a stream of white light entangled
with streams of clear water
that made its way to a green and aqua pool.

The pool was surrounded
by trees and a garden
in which people seemed to be working
gathering food.

As I began to step further into
this cave’s hidden wonders,
people living, working, and playing,
noticed me, the newcomer.

Most shred away,
but one lady, with nutmeg skin,
and dark straight hair came near
her clothes worn and torn and covered in dirt.

A make-shift bag, swung over her left shoulder
rested upon her hip
filled with food.
“Just got here?”

She asked and I nodded.
A worried, warn looked crossed her face.
“Looks pretty at first,” she paused,
“doesn’t it?”

I nodded again,
an then asked,
noticing her demeanor,
“How long have you been here?”

She looked upon a cave wall,
which seemed to contain charcoal marks of time
hundreds and hundreds.
“I’ve lost count.”

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