A few days ago, I was trying to do some reading, but my mind kept wandering from the book. Not because it wasn't any good, but because for some reason, there was a scene playing out in my mind that had nothing to do with what I was attempting to read. It was so vivid. I could see it unfolding and I could hear the sounds as the "tape" played.
It wouldn't leave me alone and I knew I had to write it down. So I pulled out my phone and typed it into my notes app.
A couple hours later, I went to the computer and did some revisions. Then I sent it to a couple friends for feedback. After a second round of edits, I knew that I wanted to produce this short piece in audio. It was so real in my mind that I knew it would be no problem to make it come to life in audible form.
Below is the story and the resulting audio production. I hope you enjoy it. It's not perfect and I'm sure I could have continued tweaking it for a while, but I decided to just say it's good enough. :) Let me know your thoughts in the comments.
Follow the Light
She steps out of the car to a chorus of crickets and bullfrogs, the drumbeat of her heart keeping time. The pale, yellow glow of the porch light a beacon to her soul. It both calls to and repels her, like a lighthouse that comforts, yet also warns of a rocky demise.
She stands still, taking it all in for a moment. She wonders if it is too much to hope that this pool of light could be a safe harbor for her foundering life. The sweat begins to trickle down the small of her back and she wills her feet to move forward.
The crunch of gravel joins the soundtrack of the night as she approaches the steps. In the dim illumination of the naked bulb, she can just make out the faint outline at the end of the porch telling her that the old swing is still there. The memories rush in unbidden, but not unwelcome. She smiles.
The creak of the third step sounds loud even amidst nature's symphony around her. The screen door seems a football field away as she reaches the top step. She hesitates.
"You've come this far," she tells herself. "Don't chicken out now."
Before the momentary moxie has opportunity to flee, she crosses the wide porch in three quick strides. She raises a hand to knock. It trembles in spite of the warmth of the summer air.
Before she can rap on the wood frame, the lace curtain on the other side of the glass rustles and she hears the lock click. She freezes.
The door swings wide open, a faint hint of cinnamon, and fresh-baked bread, wafts over her. And that familiar face, now framed by silver curls, appears in the gloomy interior. But the porch light reveals brimming eyes and a broad, welcoming smile on the lips.
The screen door squeaks open and without a word, they embrace.