It’s been a busy day, and I’m trying to watch the election coverage, so tonight’s post is a little late and quite short. But tonight’s weblog pretty much says it all, so here you go!
I also have a quick little snippet for you tonight. Everyone always asks where the name of the town Raven Falls came from, a topic covered in my NaNo novel: Breaking Shadows: Fractured. Because of the high interest people have placed in it, I am sharing this clip here for all of you. Those of you that have followed me on Twitter or liked me on FaceBook got an early peek at tonight’s sneak. Enjoy!
I walk past a dumpster, halting when I hear a thumping noise echoing inside of it. I watch, hoping a rebel may be rooting around inside, but jump when a giant raven swoops out of its yawning mouth. The sight sends me back to my childhood, sitting around a campfire, listening to spooky stories. Every child has heard, at one point or another, the story of how our town supposedly got its name. No one knows if it’s actually true or not, but it’s used to this day to spook the older children.
As the tale goes, a long time ago, when the town was just a main street coupled with a few houses and a restaurant, there lived a man of high status – perhaps a mayor of some sort. This man had locked a deep, dark secret inside of him, and allowed it to slowly gnaw his conscience away into insanity. Then, one day, he snapped. Ran out of town, flailing his arms and screaming about ravens, ranting in some kind of a delirium. Those that pursued him couldn’t keep up with his mad, frantic, feverish pace, and lost track of him amongst the gnarled shrubbery and heavy fog. Search parties were sent out, but not a trace of him was found.
A few days later, one of these parties came upon a strange, bone chilling sight. His body, mutilated by some wild creature of the night, resting at the bottom of a clear pool of water fed by the waterfall above. More fearsome than this finding, was the outlandish apparition on the stone cliff face beside the waterfall itself. For there, painted with bloody handprint stroked, were written the words “Beware of Raven Falls”. No one knows what it meant, what caused it, or if it even really happened, but the name stuck, and so did the legend. Just like every child here, my mother used to sing me the campfire lullaby used to remember the story.
Poor John Charlie made a grave mistake,
Kept it to himself in fear that made him shake,
In that solitary, lonely place the secret his soul takes,
And day by day it eats away, until a fool of him it makes.
The crooked, crazy man took flight and ran away,
Seeing ghosts of birds, at them his arms insanely swayed,
And in the dark of night with nowhere at all to stay,
Some creeping predator set in, and shelter trees betrayed.
They found him in the fountain clear,
And clear it was some beast was here,
As punishment to his mistake, his fate to die a tear,
They stood in horror at the sight of bloody words so near.
And there, inside the watery grave,
Poor soul, this town a name he gave,
To warn thee of a deathly cave,
As here, in Raven Falls, fools alone be brave.
Now, I must go. Mitt Romney just started his Concession Speech. To my fellows out there, this may not have been the news we wanted to hear. But stay strong, my friends. There is only One that can truly right this country, and His name is not Mitt or Obama. We can be still and know that Jesus is God, and He moves in mysterious ways. Trust me, this didn’t come as a surprise to Him. This is part of His plan, and our only option is to trust Him.