Grace Marshall - Tuesday, November 29, 2016
You’re so gentle, so caring
Hurting me doesn’t cross your mind
Even when your anger is flaring
No matter what
You stand there like an ember angel
Saying I’m free… but
I’m a slave of love
Anything, everything you tell me to do
I’d do, for you
You say I’m not your slave
But baby it simply ain’t true
I’m a slave of love, slave of you
From Poem, "Slave of Love"
Grace Marshall - Tuesday, November 08, 2016
It was following me with brutal intentions; I just knew it. Why else would it be following me at all? For some reason when I’d gone from the open field
I had been running through trying to dodge a lion and I had made it to the woods, a bird decided to take chase.
I still couldn’t figure out why there was a lion in the first place; it must have escaped from a zoo. I heard a loud screech from the sky and I shot
my eyes upward. I saw a massive underbelly and then the bird was suddenly beside me.
I tried to glare at it but unluckily for me that was right when I came upon a log. My foot caught the edge of the wood and my body was thrown forward.
I tried to catch myself but failed. I saw the waterfall right in front of me.
It wasn’t a huge waterfall, just a gradual decline but the stones were massive. I tried to take some sort of preventive measure but it was useless,
there was nothing my pounding heart could do.
For some reason when I regained consciousness I wasn’t wet or shivering. My head didn’t even hurt. On the contrary, I felt warm, dry, and comfortable.
I stretched out my limbs and felt no fear or worry.
I breathed in deeply, blinked my eyes, and decided to look around. I felt something soft against my head. I sat up in surprise. I was in the middle
of a field somehow. The sky wasn’t brooding with rays of sunlight barely able to seep through the clouds, instead the sun was shining brilliantly
and the sky was a dazzling shade of blue.
The warmth soaked into my bones. I turned around and found the source of the soft feeling against my head.
It was a young and beautiful lamb without blemish.
~Part 2 of 2 of "The Waterfall"
Grace Marshall - Tuesday, November 01, 2016
“She’s dying,” I barely heard my father say.
My mother was going into hysterics. She had been by my side for the past several days and had held my hand with every drip of chemo but it was no use,
I was dying.
I had already lived past their expectations. The doctors had said three to six months and I was on my seventh month, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold
on much longer. I had only held on this long for my mother, but I was weak and I was tired of trying; my father knew it.
The hospital room was blurry and so were the shapes of my mother and father and trying to concentrate on them just made my head ache so I closed my eyes.
‘No! No! No!’ Rushed through my mind as I desperately plunged onward. I was exhausted. The air I fought to suck into my lungs burnt with fire.
My legs ached and my ankles were burning. Each oncoming tree, branch, or bush was just another obstacle to dodge or leap over. The woods itself seemed
to be an obstacle to overcome. I could hear the wind whistling past my ears and feel the shadow following me. It was a black and looming shadow even
though there was hardly any sun to cast the shadow on the ground, as the sky was dark and sinister.
Sometimes I could see it from the corner of my eye, swooping through the trees. I wasn’t sure what it was anymore. Somehow it had gone from the initial
lion in the field to some type of predatory bird.
~"The Waterfall" Part 1 of 2
Grace Marshall - Tuesday, October 25, 2016
Tony Roberts lay beaten and battered on the floor. Blood glistened on his broad shoulders and sweat dripped across his well-defined brow. He had been whipped
for some time but he could remember every individual lash upon his back with vivid accuracy. He had crawled the last several yards back to the cabin
he was assigned to.
He lay panting on the floor with his aching body and closed his eyes. His mind drifted back to his wife that had been cruelly wrenched from his grasp.
She had been sold on the auction block while he had to stay behind with the knowledge that he was helpless and cling on to some small fragment of hope
that she may come back; a fragment of hope that was soon dispelled. It was as if every time he thought he was going to be able to keep moving by trying
to block out the world, something would happen to cause him to be jolted back into reality and it was a cruel and stunning reality that he was sucked
He was so used to being abused, but every time he was treated unjustly it still struck a chord of indignation in him. He wasn’t meant to be a slave, he
wasn’t created by God to be a slave and he couldn’t handle it anymore. He was tired of being abused. He was tired of being beat and yelled at without
cause. He was tired of lying on the floor in agony, pain convulsing through him, while his body tried to repair itself. He was tired of working every
single day so someone else could live in a big house and wear fancy clothes.
As Tony lay on the floor marinating in his thoughts he realized that he had no reason to continue in life. He had no reason to stay and be a slave. He
had no purpose in his life at all but to be unjustly treated and he decided that his purpose in life needed to change. He decided that that was the
last time he was going to be beaten and lie on the floor in misery with whiplashes across his back.
Four days later Tony decided to act on his resolutions. He had been beaten for the last time. He had been treated as less than human for the last time
and he was going to do something about it.
At the end of the day he trudged back to his cabin and impatiently waited for the hours to tick by.
The darkness around him drained into his brain and his eyes stared uncomprehendingly into the blackness. After Tony felt as if enough time had passed he
slowly sat up, his ears straining to recognize the noises of the night. He couldn’t hear anything out of the ordinary or any of the men that patrolled
the cabins to ensure the captivity of men, women, and children such as he. He made as little noise as possible, gently settling his feet on the floor
and padding softly to the window. He listened to the noises of those around him softly snoring and breathing, it all seemed to remain even and steady.
He slowly forced his body through the window.
The outside night air was cool and refreshing as the breeze danced across his skin. Tony moved forward with caution, his breath catching in his throat
every time he heard a sound that seemed out of the ordinary. Before he made it to the tree line of the woods at the edge of the property, he stopped
four times to press his body flat and firm against the dirt as he heard footsteps. He held his breath until they faded.
Tony exhaled as he crossed the threshold of trees. His feet were swift and quiet as he walked away from the place that caused so many memories of torture
to haunt his nightmares. He figured he could keep his quick walk up for a good long while and they shouldn’t find him missing until dawn broke on the
Grace Marshall - Tuesday, October 18, 2016
From Poem, "Alive"
Grace Marshall - Tuesday, September 20, 2016
Chains aren't always broken
With just a word being spoken
Sometimes you have to fight
In order to see the light
It's not simple math
You have to follow the path
You can't just talk the talk
You have to walk the walk
Poem, "Don't Give In"
Grace Marshall - Tuesday, August 16, 2016
Mirage is a blue roan, part Quarter Horse that is in the first book of the "Horse Haven" series, No Pizza Delivery? She is an older mare
that is an absolute sweet heart and is basically bomb proof. Here is a snippet from the book when Ruth first gets to meet the mare:
"Ruth moved toward the blue roan.
The horse seemed somewhat hesitant but Ruth reached out slowly with her hands. The mare’s nerves calmed as soon as she sniffed Ruth’s hand and got
a scratching between the ears. She snorted and flicked one ear toward Ruth, her head going down slightly as she enjoyed the working of Ruth’s fingers.
She had a dark face to match the stockings running up her legs and a black mane and tail. There was one little white star in the middle of her
“That’s Mirage. She’s mostly Quarter Horse. She likes you,” Malachi gave her an encouraging smile. “Have you done a lot with horses?”
Ruth moved the scratching to under Mirage’s neck and the mare’s lower lip shook in contentment. "I took riding lessons when I was younger, but it’s
been a while.""~Grace Marshall
Find out more about the book here:
Grace Marshall - Tuesday, August 09, 2016
"Simon, the American colonel now leading the platoon of tanks forward smushed head of his cigar against the side of his tank, watching the fuse burn out
and the last dying ember of ash roll down the side of the tank.
It had been days since the last encounter and he was tense. He felt that danger was always lurking over the next hill. Tense in the way that while his
muscles were relaxed his eyes were always searching and his ears always listening. The next concentration camp was supposed to be close but he knew
there were also soldiers on foot marching from the north. He was supposed to make it before they did.
He leaned back slightly and listened to the droning of the tank’s tracks as they clicked onward.
Gadiel lay bruised and beaten on the floor for about twenty minutes before his flogger returned and struck him in the ribs with a well-aimed boot and
told him to get up and stop bleeding all over the floor. Gadiel barely felt the kick but let the oxygen whoosh from his lungs without struggle.
He couldn’t dedicate energy to focus past the pain emanating from his back.
He forced his body to pick himself up from the floor, dreading the possibility of another round of blows and stood up on shaky knees. He hardly had
the strength to stand and trudge back to his cell before he collapsed on the floor. He let his mind drift to his family that had been taken away
for a shower and never came back.
He seemed to be an experiment of human torture, how much a human could survive before giving up. Unlike many of the others, his torturers had barely
made him labor before starting the experiments. They pulled his fingernails out, they let his beard grow so they could rip it from his face, and
they peeled the skin off his legs. He had been whipped for disobedience, a form of torture they seemed reluctant to use as it seemed so crude and
unable to shed new light on the world of torture.
He closed his eyes and thought about his daughter Avigail and her laughing eyes and smiling face. His sweet six-year-old that was now lost to him forever
and with images of her laughing face dancing through his mind, he fell asleep."
Snippet from the short story, "Gadiel's Last Hope"
Grace Marshall - Tuesday, August 02, 2016
Embera is a horse that showed up in "No Pizza Delivery?," the first book of the "Horse Haven" series. She is part-Arabian, part-Thoroughbred. She is an
8 year-old chestnut mare that is still somewhat green as she hasn't been ridden much. Embera is incredibly sweet and willing to learn but a bit flighty
Interesting note about Embera is that she is a horse character that I used to roleplay with some of my friends, that's how she got invented, and she also
started out as a Unicorn. For this book she doesn't have a horn, of course, because the "Horse Haven" series isn't fantasy.
I really love the character Embera, and I hope you do, as well. SPOILER ALERT - she does show up in the second book, "Unexpected Allies and Recurring Warts,"
so you should check out that book as well.
It might be fun to give her a horn at some point for an event at the stable to commemorate how she came to exist, put in a little bit of irony for you
insiders to smile at! :)
Check out the two books currently available for the "Horse Haven" series here:
No Pizza Delivery - Horse Haven: 1
Unexpected Allies and Recurring Warts - Horse Haven: 2
Grace Marshall - Tuesday, July 26, 2016
"I want you to trip and fall
And smack your head
But that's definitely not all
I want you to stop calling me
In the middle of the night
Telling me how you were wrong
And you want to make it right
I want you to stop telling your friends
How much you miss me
And you wish it wasn't the end
Posting on your profile wall
I don't mind your dreams coming true
Just let it be far away
Where I never have to see you
That's what I want from you"
~From my poem, "Bought Shotgun Shells"