The following post is an excerpt from "Sarah, Women of the Drifting Anchor Ranch." This is an 8 novel series of books that I've been working on for the last 20 years. I've finished 3 of the books, I'm currently writing the 4th, Sarah. I have written the beginning chapters of all 8 books.
The blanket covering her was beautiful, brilliant with colors that sparkled. She could see red, gold, and orange. The colors lay over her as she rested in the valley. The clouds seemed to float down, down, down, trying to reach her. The mistiness brushed against her blanket. The blanket broke into tiny pieces. The pieces started to dance. They circled. Mocking her, they made no sound. Dancing in intricate color patterns the pieces changed shape.
Sarah shook her head. She groaned. Could this enormous, heavy thing, be her head? If it were, how did it not snap her long, tiny, neck like a dry branch breaks in gusting wind?
There was roaring, roaring, pounding, rhythmically against her aching ears. She couldn’t remember. Where was she? Had she traveled back to the land of the great waters? Mercifully, darkness closed over her mind. Pain left. Pounding, and dancing blanket ended.