an orphan (one in a sporadic series)

From time to time, ideas come to me...lines, snippets of dialogue, even whole scenes...that have nothing to do with whatever I'm working on at the time. Sometimes these random writings are incorporated into full-blown pieces...and sometimes they remain as orphans, tantalizing teasers from the fickle muse that have no home. This then is one of the orphans which has been languishing in a file since it was born.  This one is the opening scene of a novel...the second of a proposed trilogy that came to me as I was deep into working on the first (that first one, after many fits and starts, minor catastrophes and major fits of procrastination, is FINALLY reaching completion.)

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Moonlight danced golden off the soft aura surrounding her as she stepped onto the beach.  She smiled, her body swaying in concert with the symphony of the surf, and looked back over the expanse of the dark Pacific...a part of her was already missing the embrace of the sea.

But then everybody had to come out into the light every once in a while...even her. 

She didn't really feel the first impact.  She had been reaching for her waterproof backpack and then, suddenly, she was sprawled in the sand.  She found that she was curiously lightheaded and only then did she notice that there was blood oozing languidly from a hole in her abdomen.  And, she found, she couldn't move.  Through the front to the spine...a good shot.  But she didn't panic...it would be okay, everything would be okay.

Above the din of the ocean, a clap of thundered pealed and another hole appeared in her shoulder.  She still didn't panic...it was no problem, it would be okay.

He appeared out of the shadows.  His face a mask without expression or nuance.  He would be fairly good-looking if only he would smile.  If only he would smile.  He bent down and filled a small vial with her blood.  He looked at the vial, holding it up to the golden moon, and then put it a pocket of his jacket.

She didn't panic when he leveled his weapon at her head.   She looked inward and made her peace with that which she found there.  It was no problem...she was welcome.  She was always welcome.  She wished that she had had time to say goodbye to Tamara in person...but she would understand, her baby sister was far wiser than she herself was.

He paused and looked into her eyes.  Something akin to regret was in his eyes fleetingly but he quickly banished it.  "Nothing personal," he said.

He reacquired his target and, without ceremony, he pulled the trigger. 

Lyla met the clap of thunder without blinking.  The Balance is ever, she thought, her mind a placid lake, her body glowing ever so golden in the quiet moonlight, the Balance is all.

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