EXCERPTS FROM "THE MEADOW" -- a great love story with a difference

"The Meadow" is ready to be shared with the world.

However, before that can happen, there are certain factors which need addressing.

The main issue here is to get the story out there and attract people by showing snippets and characters in the book.

Here goes my lists of articles from the Home Page for you to follow regarding a great love story that spans over thousands of years.

I hope you can get something from all of them.

The Meadow home page

CLICK ON TO THE ABOVE LINK TO TAKE YOU TO THE MEADOW HOME BLOG PAGE FOR ALL OTHER BLOGS AND ARTICLES REGARDING "THE MEADOW"

Publication of a great story is only the beginning. Now it has to find its rightful place amongst the bookshelves with all the other fantastic works of fiction. This can only happen when it is brought into people's awareness.

"The Meadow" has taken two and a half years to write and the authors do not intend for it to take that long to gain momentum as it reaches public scrutiny.

We rely on the power of the Internet and the tools which are available to us. There are many potential readers out there and using the right approach by using this facility will go a long way to helping us achieve our goals.

To the right is a beautiful photo of a real meadow somewhere. Once you begin to read "The Meadow" your mind will possibly take you to another world and let you experience a meadow from another dimension -- a celestial watering hole where souls go to rest between physical lives.

See the painting further down and see what conjures in the minds of the two authors who wrote "The Meadow".

This is how the story begins, with a legend, where two tail feathers are cast from an eagle and an owl in an aerial display.

To the right is a close up depicting them in the painting of "The Meadow" and below are the real feathers framed to celebrate the completion of the story.

". . . RACHEL

The eagle saw her first. It puffed out its neck feathers in warning and opened its beak slightly where it sat on the nest. Without moving its head, the huge bird glared intensely at the girl. Rachel stood quite still and returned the unwavering look, but her young heart sang. If the eagle didn't fly off, it meant that it was brooding and protecting eggs. She stifled the giggle that bubbled up, thrilled at what was so blatantly obvious to her. She and the bird had something big in common; the eagle expected to hatch eaglets and she was ready to hatch a dream.

After the long winter at Cape Breton, Rachel couldn't wait to scale the cliffs behind their home again. The secret route to her favourite hideout still had some icy patches, but she knew how to navigate these and was impatient to reach the pinnacle, from where she could sit and gaze at the ocean, while nurturing her dream. The eagle kept her vigilantly in sight; the thought of her dream sent a tremendous rush through her body. She leaned forward and, taking care not to make sudden movements, she softly addressed the bird. "Mrs. Eagle, keep your eggs warm so that your babies can hatch when the time is right." She smiled conspiringly. "I will tell you when my dream comes true. I promise." Then she retreated cautiously. It was time to check the mail again! Her excitement was boundless.

Rachel's mother noticed her new routine and asked her husband what the daily scaling of the cliffs meant and why their sixteen-year-old daughter was keeping a vigil at the mailbox. She raised a curious eyebrow at his reply. "She wrote a love story for a magazine in Toronto?" Then she added with the faintest tinge of cynicism. "What does she know about love?" She had long become used to Rachel's confiding in her father, rather than in her.
Rachel's father didn't reply but watched the object of his love rush in through the backdoor and strip off her parka and boots. It was still cold on the higher elevations and he noticed her rosy cheeks and bright eyes. "How much longer before the eagles hatch?" he whispered softly in her ear, hugging her.
"Not long, Daddy. I think she minds my presence less and less. We have a bond now." She smiled and kissed his cheek. "Don't ask - nothing yet in the mailbox! But soon, I think."

His heart contracted on her behalf, wishing he could scoop up all the hurt and disappointment scheduled to cross her path now and in the future and protect her from it. He admired her courage but, paradoxically, it also exposed her vulnerability. She had written her story first in longhand and then carefully typed it before sending it off. Only once had he asked her about it.

"What kind of love story is it, Rachel?" She sat next to him on the dock where he had cast a leisurely line, resting her head against his shoulder. Like her, he was lost in the reflection of the clouds on the water. She answered without hesitation.

"The kind that makes your bones ache, Daddy; even if you have not yet had a chance to love anyone like that."

He tugged at the line, overwhelmed with her ability to express at such a deep level. "How do you know, Rachel? You're sixteen." When she didn't answer he turned his head to look at her. Her eyes were filled with tears and she looked straight ahead. But her expression was serene and accepting, as if she felt the weight of the load and was used to carrying it.
"I don't know, Daddy. It just feels like a very old memory.

Sixteen weeks since she had first came across the brooding eagle, she crept closer to the nest again. The mother was nowhere in sight and Rachel looked forward to admiring the reflection of the sun on the young birds and listening to the excited squeaking that her presence evoked. But the eaglets were gone. Rachel stared at the empty nest in shock and then she knew that this was the sign that she had been waiting for. She turned and dashed along the path which led down the cliff, running and jumping over rocks and dried tree stumps; her heart thundering in her chest. This had to be the day!

She was right. The long awaited letter was in the mailbox but she was not prepared for the cold, businesslike rejection. Her father found her in her bedroom curled into the foetal position and read the letter on her dresser with a wistful expression on his face. Then he sat down next to her and softly stroked her hair. What else was there to do?

* * * * *

That day she vowed never to write another love story. But that was more than twenty years ago and, waiting in the departure area of Lax International Airport in Los Angeles, she again looked at the spine of the book in her carry-on luggage. The golden embossed letters spelled "The Meadow". The book was the result of more than two years' collaboration with Jake Fletcher; a man whom she hadn't met until they had completed this incredible saga of love and devastation.

Then Rachel remembered her father's question that day at the dock about love and how she knew so much about it. Her answer was that she thought she remembered. "The Meadow" had proved her right . . . ."

A little emaciated due to an injury, and in the process of recovering, the likeness with the horse in "The Meadow" was uncanny.

You will read about this horse in other pages or blogs. His story almost runs parallel to what was in the mind of one of the original authors.

Read all about this in other pages created to help promote "The Meadow".

WATCH OUT FOR THEM IN FUTURE ARTICLES FEATURING "THE MEADOW" AND LEARN ABOUT THE MYSTERY THAT SURROUNDS THESE FEATHERS.



THE LORD OF THE DAY



THE LORD OF THE NIGHT



THE KING OF THE OPEN PLAINS

In 1986 I was under a great deal of stress. My mother was dying of cancer and I was undergoing horrendous business relationships with my equal partner.

My mother died, coinciding with my decision to go it alone and break the partnership and form a new business.

I commemorated this by designing this emblem/logo in memory of my late mother and in recognition of a new start in business.

It has remained with me ever since and has accompanied many articles that I have written, as well as being the company logo that accompanied all business administration.

"Sparrow in my hand" is the personal Avatar of my writing partner, Elfreda.

Drawn by her son, it commemorates a turning point in her life when that same son, at the age of seven, overcame life threatening injuries sustained in an accident.

This is his vision of his mother as a little girl, wondering how to save a baby sparrow that fell from its nest - the same way she wondered how to help him survive all those years ago.

"Sparrow in my hand" is the book of his healing they intend to write in the near future.

If you are interested in learning more about "The Meadow", then you can contact me as follows:-


Address:
No. 8 High Throston,
TS26 0LJ
UK

Telephone: +(0044) 1429 279814
Fax: +(0044) 1429 231255
Email: themeadowblog@gmail.com

Links:


The Meadow home page

The Meadow at Twitter