The Flavor of Orchids
by
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"Alison!" The sound cracked like a whip from the crest of the hill, and turning carefully in her precarious position, she saw Derek above her, his blue Thinsulated arms stretched above his head, waving, their pack sled, a vital addition for their bulky winter equipment, empty beside him. Apparently Percy had heard him, too, for he plunged up the hill, each step an agile leap in the deep snow. Alison, chuckling and waving agreement, stuck her sketchpad in her pack and followed him up: her own progress slower, less agile, but no less determined. She met Derek at the top and he led her to the crest of the hill, pointing downward along the side, where the snow was thinner, icier. "Want to ride with me?" he asked, jade eyes aglint, cheeks red from the raw wind. She smiled her assent, and they both climbed on the sled: one unified push and they were flying recklessly, she in front, the sled handles clenched in icy fists, ears raw at the bottom where her fleece cap abandoned them. The snow, swept more clear here, was perfect and crusty, the hill steep, and their speed increased exponentially as they raced toward the bottom and the thin stand of trees between them and the river. Alison closed her eyes. She could hear Percy's excited bark in the distance, could feel the dangerous plunging of the sled and the cold powdery snow spraying her eyelids and cheeks. She felt herself swept away momentarily, falling, out of control, no rules or regulations, just falling forward into more blackness. "Look out!" Derek yelled, and she opened her eyes to see a tree looming larger and more substantial as they rapidly approached. She tried to turn the sled, but couldn't get it to change direction. "How do I steer?" she shouted above the wind. "Never mind steering, let's bail!" She heard Derek's words as the tree swam into focus, heard him roll, felt the weight gone from the back of the sled, but she hung on for some strange reason, still fighting to turn the sled, watching the tree race closer, shifting her focus to the clear space beside it, feeling somehow that her whole life had been reduced to this motion, this struggle, this swerve. "Alison!" Derek's voice was frightened, angry, imploring, but the sled, lighter without Derek, responded by shifting direction slightly, and she whizzed by the tree, inches to spare, before coming to a victorious standstill in the thicker snow at the base of the hill. She tumbled off the newly motionless sled; lay sprawled in the cold snow, her body numb, relieved. Percy attacked her moments later, his frosty snout exploring her face. She couldn't help laughing, even as she heard Derek stomping toward her, couldn't help remembering the excitement of the cold black plunge, the freedom of her one simple goal, and the intense happiness she'd felt deep inside, like in her dreams.
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About the Book
Creativity, passion, pure spirituality, the intensity of which purifies all it touches – these are the elements of a successful life to Alison Foster, graphic designer for a Chicago design firm. Unfortunately, they're rarely required or rewarded on the job, so she pursues her own painting career relentlessly after work and on weekends, trying to evade the frustrations that churn inside, threatening to destroy her life . . . By most measures, Nevan Pierce, lead singer of a London-based band, The Ancients, is successful. The band has a cult following around the world, and the love and admiration he gets from fans satiates his thirst for acceptance. Although he revels in this admiration, Nevan's search for substance in a world filled with masks and empty facades forces him to turn to his dreams for friendship, inspiration, and a spirited romance . . . In those dreams, the two come together to explore the vibrancy of a world without boundaries or obstacles, a world where one’s inner landscape is as accessible and beautiful as the notes to a song. But those dreams are just the beginning in a book filled with art, music, and the complications they create. Enter a world where falling raindrops form the sound of future songs, where dreams and reality blend like oils on canvas, where Nevan and Alison explore the nature of creativity and desire with near-fatal results. Experience The Flavor of Orchids: rich with images, lyrics, the difficulties and beauty of life.
About the Author
Sharon Henriksen teaches creative writing and composition at Ball State University. Along with participating in many public readings and exhibitions of her creative work, Sharon has published poetry, short fiction, and creative non-fiction in various magazines. She enjoys spending time on creative endeavors, interacting with her family and animals, traveling, reading, and participating in outdoor activities such as camping and hiking.