Knights and Queens and Coffee

"Whatcha doing, hon?" his wife called out to him from the other room.

"Writing a story, about knights and stuff."

"Ooh, let me see." She came in, wiping her hands with a dish towel, her red hair tousled unintentionally, but still, it was the way he liked it. She sat on the bed next to his desk and read over his shoulder, slowly scrolling through.

He watched her face carefully, but even after all these years, he knew he couldn't figure out what she was thinking. She frowned slightly, then smiled.

"Good start. Is it going to be about Déorah or Jthan?" she asked, pronouncing his name as Jithan.

"Not sure yet"

"Going to be tough to get them romantically involved, since she's already married, with a baby."

"Yeah, I know. I'm thinking it's really about the boy, KBehrszhen, but he's still an infant. Gotta lot of time to cover."

"I think you're going to have to introduce a love interest for Jthan, something to confuse him a little, help to get over Déorah."

Her eyes laughed as she talked, as they always did. He tried to think about what she said, but in truth he was thinking more about her. Married fifteen years and he still thought of her as his new bride, wondered why in the world she'd ever said yes.

"Oh, and don't forget we need some dog food," she added, as though that was part of the same subject.

He was used to the whiplash change of subjects, and he just smiled. "Okay, now get outa here and let me work."

She grinned at him and kissed him on the neck, tickling and confusing him, as it always did.

He looked over at Coffee lying on the floor next to him. She was mostly a boxer, but had a few other breeds in there too. Named after her color when she was newborn - coffee with cream that is - though now she was more fawn colored, with white socks and a white stripe on her face-good, faithful dog, great with kids. Maybe he could work a dog into the story, some kind of protector for the child.

He turned to the computer, brushing back his short gray-blond hair.

Knights and queens, desperate situations, a baby in peril, he thought . . . and that light. Where was he going with that light-a source of some kind of power; a representation of God; a symbol for courage, or something like that?

He left the thought unanswered for the moment, at least to his conscious mind. He knew that sometimes these stories grew from something inside him, some fear, some hope, some desire to make the world better. Some fire burning inside him, lit there by God Himself, he had no doubt.

Hey that was it! Let it grow; become more important, more involved as the story continued. Even beyond what the characters ever suspected.

He poised his fingers over the keyboard-time to get back to Jthan and Déorah. Better get them and the baby to Berothai fast, before the boy gets a chill.

(written by Bob Leger, published with permission from Bob Leger. For Chapter 1 Click here)