I have been messing around with this opening of my book and it’s like when you’re cooking up a pot of vegetable stew for the first time, constantly adding and tasting until its just perfect to you taste buds and if you try it too much your tastes become warped. Which is where I am at and for me its not something that I am anywhere comfortable doing as I am at making stews which by the way I do make really well if I say so myself.
While this book is on the Wattpad in parts and this version is altered in the opening here from there. So I quess what I am asking is do you think it needs more work, does it or does it not peak your interest to go further down the pages?
One moment I am sober and asleep in my bed, the next being lifted out of it. With a tiniest flutter of my lids, already I’m held high above the clouds. It was a peculiar sensation floating inside a hand where they or it I do not know, but I was witnessing a model elegantly unveiling in ways that brought to my mind how poets were marred for their inadequacies in describing such beauty is taking breaths of life. Gradually unraveling, completely unhurried in their devotions bleeding quills for inspirations.
Inconceivably there was not a thing different from any other day passing through a birthing into another. Skylines were transpiring as they do to for the wispy pinks and moody lavenders to awaken them into crystal blue cerulean. Surrounded in bequeaths of warmth as the sun merrily handed out salutations when it reached a marking of the twelve-hundredth hour.
Examining for more and found moments were also disclosed through whiffs of dew seen on leaves after an evening of puckery kisses. The aftermath of sopping wet passions steeped loam, deepening a headiness of piquancy and lifted up a savoriness of mossy peat on to my palette, where I began ruminating dreamy memories locked within the soil.
Laced with nostalgia this strange lucidness laid me down on to the comfort of an outdoor lounging settee, rocking too slowly even for me knowing that I am really dosing with in my cradle. While I thought about this place that I lay; the sunrise wiped away residue of its own fitful night’s rest. I wasn’t alone in my perch for there was an accompaniment of feathered comrades singing as they playfully traded spots in California’s native oaks and shrubbery. Singing in these harmonies, so sweet I continued to linger on insects’ greetings what I believed were early budding joggers in “Good morning” backing the birds’ vocals.
All around me from this dreamy state were truly genial surroundings, not even the smallest creatures held back on rejoicing for the Lord in duties of discovering spring’s newly opened blossoms. While none of this isn’t unusual because this was just one more of those glorious days which held additional tokens guaranteeing a pleasantly genuine spring morning.
This is what my dream spoke of as it recalled the time of being within a pebble’s skip onto a satiny lake of summer. Behind my gilded masterpiece discreetly they said with an uncanny whisper that in this daily grinds there will be a request that would reshape an equable beginning.
A change of this magnitude I thought would make quite a ruckus, a turnabout came subdued no ominous beat could be heard at first glimpse of the effulgent rise of the sun. A shift will be interjected far from where it’s needed for my revision they said and then informed though I was ready to nod further into my sleep that this was going to be done by addressing a staff member diligently working with a message simply containing four words.
“His Majesty has summoned”
I can’t place anymore because quite frankly it will in a few pages becomes a rather mature adult book with language and decussions that on this blog site cannot go, if I had gone with a different format could have. Thank you in adivance for checking this out.
Crock Pot Vegetable Stew
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