This is a work in progress, so there are some gaps. Thanks to Writers Digest for helping to get my creative juices flowing! THE LIGHT OF AMORTH Goodnight Hall was already fragile. Now, it
was a steaming heap of broken banisters, crushed concrete, and the charred
remains of the delicate double doors. Georgina Fosterday stood shouting at the
children looking down at her for answers. “There’s nothing to see here,
children. Go back to your classes.” She waved her wand in front of her and the
rubble glistened lightly, lifted and formed a temporary wall. “Who’s the one responsible,” asked Obdigan.
“That was pretty powerful.” “Pretty powerful?” she responded. “What’s
missing?” Obdigan scanned over the wreckage. “Umm…” “Where are we, Obdigan?” “Goodnight Hall.” “And what do we keep in Goodnight Hall?” He paused and moved closer to the rubble. “Watch your step, Obdigan!” Obdigan froze, his foot poised over a twisted
knot of seraphic metal and human flesh. “Dear gods,” he whispered. “Is that a-” “Yes.” “I kn…
Once that sun sets, the stars come out, and the Englishmen
get quiet. The wind makes the sails swell a gentle cascading rhythm with the
waves. During the night, I am well. I am free.
"Up, apes," the monstrosity of a man shouts from
the top of the stairs. I have not revealed that I speak and understand English.
English was mandatory in my home. "No, son," my
father would correct. "It is pronounced Free-dum. Write it out, f-r-e-e-d-o-m."
He would smile at me while his gentle hands guided my clumsy fingers. "We
will leave our home, Chichi," he would whisper. "We will leave, and -
make sure your 'o' closes at the top - and you will see the land of plenty.
There will be grain and milk, and you will be full."
The last light of dawn fell to the contours of his face and
made laurels of his greying temples. "I will be there with you, Chichi.
Now, pronounce it like Dr. Wellesly."
We would sit in the dark corner of our home, l…
My daughter just turned three today. A bittersweet moment, to say the least.
We all get older, and with age we have more responsibility. We start to realize our many potentials: potential to do good, potential to think, to reason, to live with each other. It is these responsibilities that mould us and shape us into the adults we'll be. I listen to the podcasts of a psychology professor who does an excellent job of explaining the philosophy of Piaget. People must learn to be good to one another. And, guess what, it starts at home.
After the party was all said and done, and the other three-year olds left with their parents, my daughter cuddled up on the couch with her nana, and the two took a nap, and I started to think about my role. I'm writing now while they sleep on the couch. And, while they sleep I wonder if I'm doing the right thing by her.
Then, I started wondering what I meant by "the right thing." Kant, one of my idols, believed there must be a moral impe…