When I began writing these chapters, memories resurfaced, nostalgic sentimentality, and surprisingly, gratefulness. Today was my birthday. I just turned sixty-three and am one year out following my year-long battle with breast cancer.
I see every day I'm here as a gift, and when I think back to my diving years, I am reminded how quickly time goes by and what's really important when we get closer to the end of our journey. What a blessed life God has given me.
With those thoughts as a backdrop, I decided to share a short excerpt I wrote tonight. Those who have read previous books in the series will wonder how this scene fits into the story--but I shall not spoil it. I hope The Howling will be the best book in the Seventh Dimension Series yet.
I followed Maurice along the coral shelf catching it all on video. Nothing out of the ordinary came to my attention at first, but we hadn’t gone very far when everything changed.
Heaped upon the sandy bottom were skeletons of dead fish. The stagnant water was dark and murky. Not a living thing could be seen. Did death have a voice? I heard the sounds of silence, and it hurt. Only my rhythmic breathing through the regulator broke the stillness. The predators of the deep, the shimmering schools of fish, the tiny, shy creatures that darted in and out of crevasses, they spoke to me, even if that voice was only to evoke in me a longing for more.
Who could fathom the depths of God’s glory in the windows of the deep? Who could know the inner workings of the tiny seahorse or the massive blue whale? The masterful artist spoke this once untamed world into being only because he delights in the extraordinary. No sin, imperfection, greed, or intolerance was ever meant to invade its domain. Extravagant wonder had blessed these waters hundreds, perhaps thousands of years. How anyone could believe it came into existence through evolution perplexed me. Who could deny it was brilliantly designed except someone who didn’t want to believe?
The rainbow world of the exotic, tranquil deep had turned into a morbid cemetery. The vibrant colors of living coral were nothing more than whitewashed tombstones. Devoid of life, this part of the Red Sea was now a ghost town.
We exchanged glances. Something had tarnished the ecosystem. Something had brought death here—the all too familiar face of evil.
I hope to finish the first draft by Christmas.