The river flowed steadily over the partly submerged rocks oblivious to the lone person sitting with their back against a sycamore tree. The afternoon sun momentarily transformed the water into shimmering colours as she cuddled her knees into her chest. Reaching into her backpack the young woman pulled out a notebook and a pencil before adjusting her position and opening her book. She began to write.
Time passed like endless clouds floating mindlessly across the sky, and the woman continued writing. Lost in the flow of her imagination she became her character and instead of sitting beside a river, she found herself in a medieval castle fighting the evil warlock, Lord Rufus.
Her sword held high, the girl spun and sweeping her leg she lunged at her enemy. Hearing him grunt, she realised he was tiring. This was her chance. The clash of swords echoed through the empty hall as they bobbed and weaved spilling into the foyer. Backing away, hoping for a slight reprieve, she sucked in her breath. The cool evening air wriggled up her spine as she poised herself. Someone had left the castle doors open. She grunted as her blade vibrated and she clenched her teeth steadying her stance. Rufus sidestepped and lunged as she retreated out the door into the dim light. Turning to face him she said, “Rufus, thou last fight is upon you.”
“You do not have the strength to defeat me, Hilaria. I have stolen your magic.”
“Nigh, not all of it,” she grunted as she pounced forward screaming with the momentum, her sword slicing the soft flesh of his face as she landed. In retaliation, he thrust and carved the air where she had stood as warm blood tainted his lips.
Energy surrounds me
As true as the dawn
Filling the space around me
Acting to keep me safe
Hilaria chanted the spell as she raised her arms in the air her sword swaying side to side allowing an invisible cone to enclose her.
“You see, Rufus. You are wrong. My sorcery is innate not learned. I AM the Bearer of Misfortune and you are the receiver.”
She watched Rufus’s face contort as he realized he could not win. Trying to save himself from a destiny of lethe, he ran to the surrounding rock wall; for he knew all too well the will of the Bearer of Misfortune. Laughing, she glided above the ground towards him as he reached the edge. The wall loomed ominously on the side of a precipice. Facing him, her controlling eyes held his, as he edged closer to the fall. He gazed down and the sheer drop sent fear through his body as she said, “You can not escape my roth. I will kill you and you will be walking the land for all your days; a forgotten, a shadow soul.”
Reaching forward, her arms extended, she smashed the rock wall and stones began to break free before tumbling down the hillside, like a cascading waterfall, as Rufus screamed and losing his footing, he fell.
As a writer, you become one with your characters and with your chronicle. Sometimes losing yourself in a scene is easy. It’s like you’re there. You can see it, touch it, know what will happen. You are your character. Your imagination is firing neurons at an accelerated speed and the images and concepts you are bringing to life are, for that moment, real to you.
Creative imagination is about generating new images directed at a specific goal – that is to write your scene – and by producing powerful images under suggestion, your mind can become a breeding ground of creative flair.
John Lennon wrote, ‘Turn off your mind, relax, and float down a stream’. Maybe he was onto something when he penned those words. As a songwriter, his job was to do what a novelist does, but in a shorter prose. And by using his imagination to construct inner visions, he like many creatives crafted his story.
The freedom to express yourself is boundless and by nurturing your creative ability you enhance the effect your imagination has on your writing each time you use it. So, get lost in your imagination. Find your super consciousness and unveil your powers of perception to the world!
Write, write, write!