Excerpt from Chapter Four One Thousand Years Genesage
One Thousand Years: Genesage
"Tom."
Coming back to himself startled, he heard the gentle whispering fingers of the still soft voice
floating out to him. The silky caress chilled him rather than invited. It took hold of Tom as a
caress. Touching not just to his ears only, No, it reached out to his soul. It called beyond his
understanding and thoughts. It worked its way inside him. It encircled his heart to clasp there
his emotions.
It was not hostile but simple, tender, imploring. It was easy to listen to. Easier to let go, to
comply, to allow the words to enfold him. He wanted to listen. He wanted desperately to
allow the words to have their way with him. He wanted to believe.
"Tom"
So familiar, he thought, he knew that voice. Somewhere, somehow, in another place, in
another time, he would have said he knew that voice. Familiar yet so foreign he could not
know who it was. How could He? The voice could not be from a..., his mind would not say
what. Yet it had to be as his eyes could attest, still it could not be.
The voice reached ever deeper down into the center of his heart. His mind was at war but his
heart wanted to concede. If it were alone on the battle field his heart would have surrendered.
His mind would not let go. His soul was torn between the warring factions. Down into the
private crevasses and hidden closets no one knew. The secret rooms where only Tom went.
The voice went holding something in it. An object no door could resist. Holding the key that
even Tom did not know. The voice was fumbling with the lock putting the key into it. A key
that was to a locked door inside of him that the voice seemed to know how to open. Would
his heart betray him while his mind said ....No?
-Excerpt from Chapter One of One Thousand Years: Genesage
Coming back to himself startled, he heard the gentle whispering fingers of the still soft voice
floating out to him. The silky caress chilled him rather than invited. It took hold of Tom as a
caress. Touching not just to his ears only, No, it reached out to his soul. It called beyond his
understanding and thoughts. It worked its way inside him. It encircled his heart to clasp there
his emotions.
It was not hostile but simple, tender, imploring. It was easy to listen to. Easier to let go, to
comply, to allow the words to enfold him. He wanted to listen. He wanted desperately to
allow the words to have their way with him. He wanted to believe.
"Tom"
So familiar, he thought, he knew that voice. Somewhere, somehow, in another place, in
another time, he would have said he knew that voice. Familiar yet so foreign he could not
know who it was. How could He? The voice could not be from a..., his mind would not say
what. Yet it had to be as his eyes could attest, still it could not be.
The voice reached ever deeper down into the center of his heart. His mind was at war but his
heart wanted to concede. If it were alone on the battle field his heart would have surrendered.
His mind would not let go. His soul was torn between the warring factions. Down into the
private crevasses and hidden closets no one knew. The secret rooms where only Tom went.
The voice went holding something in it. An object no door could resist. Holding the key that
even Tom did not know. The voice was fumbling with the lock putting the key into it. A key
that was to a locked door inside of him that the voice seemed to know how to open. Would
his heart betray him while his mind said ....No?
-Excerpt from Chapter One of One Thousand Years: Genesage
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