If you’ve been following me on social media for awhile, you’ll have noticed that I occasionally post little short stories for my kids in a series I’ve titled The Chronicles of the Dei Clan Warriors. I’ve decided to compile them here for the sake of convenience. There’s no underlying, thought-out-in-advance master plot here, or hours upon hours of careful editing, it’s just my brain to the keyboard as the stories come. Wondering how things are going to turn out for the Dei Clan? Me too! I’m following along same as you. Hope you enjoy!
My wife asked if I could write a children’s story for our kids this Christmas. I came up with the following, titled "Why Is Santa so Jolly?" To Sawyer, Vivi, Mimi, and Amelie:
Christmas is such a wonderful time of year,
Filled with decorations, singing, and cheer.
But have you ever stopped and looked at all those twinkling lights,
And wondered why does Santa come in the night?
Why does he stick presents under a tree?
I've always dreamed of being a writer - ever since my epic thriller "The Black Thing" written around the age of 5 or 6, that featured some sort of shady dancing figure with a boombox (because who wouldn't find that scary?). That would be my last completed book for over two decades. Every few years I'd take a stab at writing a novel, with what I believed to be a brilliant idea. I'd end up hammering out a chapter and quitting. It was not until God entered my life and paired up with me to write a story for His glory, that I was given the strength to follow through and write a full manuscript for a middle-grade Christian fiction novel by the name of A Fervent Warrior - a tale of a troubled boy in foster care that draws upon the parable of the scattering seed and the armor of God.
I consider that time a turning point, when I finally decided to seriously pursue my dreams of writing. Upon the advice of my writing manager (also known as my wife), I started a blog as a platform while I finished the manuscript. Being none the wiser, I thought, "Hey, why not name the blog the same as my novel?"
Abbott finished ushering the last of the sheep into the pen and snapped the door shut. With a satisfied smile, he threw his arm around the neck of one of his sheep. Pulling his smart phone out of his pocket, he extended his arm and snapped a couple of selfies. “Oh yeah…I’m b-a-a-a-a-d!” A sudden blurb of movement out of the corner of his eyes caught his attention. Phone dropping to his side, he squinted at the figure walking towards him, silhouetted against the backdrop of the blazing sun. It was Jesse’s son.
“Hey David, what’s up man?” Abbott called out with a cheerful smile.
“Hey Abbott...I need to ask you a favor.” David’s serious tone matched the concern streaked across his face.
“Uh...sure man. What’s up?” Abbott replied. Where is this going?
While navigating the catacombs of our garage to kick off our house move in 2018, I found a letter I had written to my high school teacher regarding my final English paper – which I turned in a couple of weeks past its deadline. I found it amusing enough to be worth a share: “Dear Dr. Scott,
I understand that this paper is far past its deadline and I just wanted to clarify as to why I was not able to turn it in on time. I had originally finished my paper well ahead of schedule. The day that it was assigned, I sat down before my computer that evening to get a head start. An hour later I was staring at a very badly worded paragraph and a whole lot of blank space beneath it. Growing weary of my struggle with writer’s block, I was getting dangerously close to the threshold of my frustration. Just as I was about to call it quits, I was suddenly struck by a moment of sheer brilliance.
“Elek!” Abdiel whispered, shaking the dozing shepherd’s shoulder violently. Elek responded by snoring louder, a stream of drool pooling in his scraggly beard. “Elek!” Abdiel hissed louder, smacking Elek across the back of the head. “..mhama….what?” Elek sputtered. He sprung forwards, away from the oak tree he had been using as a backrest. His hand shot to the spot where Abdiel slapped him.
“What is that?” Abdiel demanded.
“What’s what?” Elek retorted, rubbing his head.
Abdiel pointed to the cloaked figure passing through the sheep in the field, silhouetted by the backdrop of a full moon. Elek scrambled to his feet, gripping his rod. “Who goes there?” He declared into the night, spooking a couple of the nearby sheep.