Her skirt billowing in the wind like tendrils. Of hair that float and dance against. The ocean current, waiting for the. Oncoming storm the destruction and merging. Of two worlds, the clash of lightning and sun. As Apollo wipes out the man-made. Northern light show, as he rides. Atop the sky current, bringing. A new light, fresh, morning, to the city. That never sleeps but stays unsteady.

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Story ideas seem to creep up in much the same manner, pressing against you in such a way that they cannot be ignored. The tired neurons in your brain are suddenly flaring brightly with excitement over some new idea that decided to visit you at midnight, or one, or two in the morning. It sends you pawing for your notebook and blinking dazedly at your bedside lamp. Shai flashed into the walled garden, the sun flaring about her and catc.