Garrick Thunders by
May 21, 1998
4:43 a.m.
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listening to Sarah McLachlan's "fumbling toward ecstasy"    I felt the itch yesterday morning on the way to work. It was a brief flash. . . . just an image. . . then a snippet of action. . . . the achingly distant echo of thundering hooves. Then it was gone. The Europa story moves along. I'm again uncertain what I'll call it, but the setting is holding me spellbound as I write it. It's almost to the point where the location is pulling away too much of my concentration, if that makes sense. I can see the ice and the methane snow. I can feel the pain and panic of the characters, the cold that seeps into their bones. I can see Jupiter hovering in the sky like an expectant mother watching over her three-year-old daughter. But as much as I'm enjoying this piece, and as much as the world of aerospace and astronomy holds me enthralled, still I saw an unmistakeable image inside my head yesterday. It was Garrick, the protagonist of the last Novel Dare. He rode atop a lathering charger, bolting across the horizon. His face was set with determination, and the wind pulled tears from the corners of his eyes. Now the image gnaws at me in the quiet cracks of my day. . . . and a question rises within me . . . . . . I have to know . . . . . . where was he going?  Daily Persistence is © Ron Collins |
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"Thrice would I have thrown my arms around her neck, and thrice the ghost embraced fled from my grasp: like a fluttering breeze, like a fleeting dream." Virgil |
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