A warm welcome to authors E.L Reedy & A.M. Wade joining us today to talk about their release “Upon Broken Wings”.
Welcome 🙂
E. L. Reedy & A. M. Wade have a new YA Paranormal book out:
Bound by a dark act of hate and despair, high school freshmen, Andrew and Kiernan, learn that their untimely deaths did not bring an end to their pain, but only began the suffering of those left behind. While his lost memories return, Andrew must master seemingly impossible feats, both spiritual and physical.
As a dark spirit stalks Kiernan through the borderlands of life and death, he must also face the pain his actions have caused his loved ones.
To save both their souls, Andrew must convince Kiernan to return to life and open his eyes to the love and beauty which had always been there.
A Recollection of LIFE
—from Michael Hall, Thoughts from Beyond
My dearest Andrew,
My beloved,
You did indeed bury your heart on the same day that you buried me, but you buried also your love and a vast part of your spirit, which had both been bright as the sun and pure as the deep blue sky. Your heart—ever overflowing with love, laughter, and pieces of your personal history—shut down to grieve, and that is natural. But perhaps you overlooked in your exile of sorrow that while my body lay ever unmoving in the ground, that yours was still very much alive and ready to enter a whole new beginning.
You were like the glacier you spoke of and I could have been the birds with cries meant to shatter your ice and to set you free to flow again—to move on, to live—as life has done since the moment of Creation. You saw only a sliver, one dim view of a world awash in all seasons. You spoke of the coming winter, but no mention of the spring that would follow. Though the birdsong did indeed lament the loss of warmth, it also shed glory upon the future of a world ever in flux—winter would pass, followed again by spring, and summer would shine through again.
I was there in the black car, sharing the backseat with you and my parents. I kissed each one of you and I tasted your hot tears of grief. I wrapped my arms around all of you—and you especially, Andrew—I held you tight and whispered into your heart, of every beautiful moment that we had spent together, as friends, as mates, as two young men in love.
I was everywhere and all around you in the cemetery, Andrew, only you chose not to listen. It was my own voice that led the chorus of birds, as they sang their songs of praise and wonder at the miracles and mysteries of life. To you, to them, to every living creature, each day can be the first day of spring. I saw the flowers left behind by others at so many headstones as tributes of love—they fought to remain in weather meant to bring about their end—a sign meant for you—that life must be beyond all other things, persistent in its struggle to continue, despite each and every hardship that might rise up in its path.
I also saw my father and mother hug and weep upon one another, but Andrew, did you not understand that they would have gladly welcomed you into their arms, hugged you tight even, because they could never hold again me? It was your own wall of desolation, a barrier stronger than steel and colder than ice, which kept them at arm’s length away from you—away from even the spirit of me.
You did not laugh at all following my departure or even crack a smile, so I laughed for you. I spoke only joyful words that perhaps sounded eerie and shrill to your mortal ears, nothing more than a whistling wind through the trees. Joy did not desert you that day, however, you left it trembling, cold, and alone at the farthest corner of your heart.
I felt your love for me though, Andrew—radiant and pure—pouring forth into the nether reaches of my new existence. Did you never discover, Andrew, that you were stronger than you knew, like you had been every moment of every single day throughout your life?
There in the pouring rain, amidst ten-thousand markers of departed souls, I stood beside you, surrounded you even, with my own grieving spirit. My spectral tears mixed freely with the physical ones of yours and those of my parents. Even so, we did not weep alone, my beloved, our sobbing cries were joined by an angelic chorus of millions who still remembered their moments in life. I tried to touch your shoulder, to move your uncombed bangs aside, to wipe away your tears—I even screamed your name—but an eternal gulf lay between us. I must admit, I stepped away then for just one moment, to cry for myself, for you, and for your world, which had already started to crumble.
I was there, as best I could be, my love, every time you needed me. I have always been there, since that first day, holding your hand in mine, drying your tears, and sharing in your joys and pains. Another though, carried you like a small child on His shoulders—you forgot, as so many across the ages before and after you have done—the Maker never leaves us. Never would He leave one of His children to wander the wilderness alone.
To you, Andrew, and to any other who would flee from the reaches of life—run not alone in the depths of your hurts, but rather speak with a friend, a priest, a rabbi, or any other who might offer you hope and an outstretched hand. If you fall from grace during a moment of despair, it is rare beyond figuring that the miracle of a second chance at life presents itself for one who chooses to cease living.
Cherish what the Creator has given, for there is nothing greater known to us men, floundering things that we are, ever on the edge between the world of the living and that of the spirit. Hope fills our every moment, countering, if we allow it, our every instance of despair. Our dreams carry us aloft through our darkest trials by night and our brightest moments in the sun, beyond the reaches of hatred and sorrow. On the wings of angels are our many prayers answered, should we only open our hearts and minds to what is freely given.
Peace be ever with you, Andrew, my life, my love.
Eternally yours,
Michael.
E. L. Reedy — Was born and raised in Iowa, where he devoured tomes of fantasy, sci-fi, and young adult novels as a child. In his free time, he is an avid gamer (D&D and Pathfinder). He has traveled the world as a soldier in the U.S. Army, and now lives in Iowa, where with his writing partner, he continues to pen works in the realms of Fantasy and Horror in the Young Adult Universe.
A. M. Wade — As the only girl in a family with five boys, she readily escaped into fantasy, sci-fi, and other fiction novels. Having traveled through most of the US, she enjoys using scenery and characteristics of the different states in the story adventures she created for the little ones in her family. Now, she writes sci-fi, fantasy and horror with a lifelong co-conspirator.
Author Website: https://oflightandshadow.blog/
Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/oflightandshadow7/
Author Amazon: http://amazon.com/author/elreedy http://amazon.com/author/amwade
