The Power of Will - Composers for Relief: Supporting the Philippines / 50 States of Pray

Over 30 gifted composers hailing from 16 countries collaborated on an inspirational album to raise funds for the victims of Typhoon Yolanda. All profits from the album, and companion e-book, will go to Gawad Kalinga (“give care”), supporting the efforts in distributing food and rebuilding the devastated lives and damaged cities across the Philippines. 

The following short story is part of a writing collaboration organized by Samantha Redstreake Geary (visit her site for details.) 28 writers from across the globe joined her in discovering the stories of triumph lurking in the notes of each track from the album Composers for Relief: Supporting the Philippines. The final tales will be compiled into a companion ebook anthology for the album, with all proceeds going to Gawad Kalinga.

My chosen track and the source of inspiration for my story is The Power of Will by Ivan Torrent. I suggest you listen to it while you read.

The Power of Will

 “Sterion!” A stranger woman’s voice drummed in my head. My ears still buzzed with the echo of the last energy blasts and subsequent shockwave that had knocked me out. Pain surged in my body and mind. Marble debris stung under my back but the severed bond between my brave family’s vital energy and mine tormented me the most.

They’re dead.

“Sterion, Grand General Adleon and the rest of the High Warriors are dead. You’re the last one!” A silhouette knelt beside me. Her words slurred in a voice too deep to be natural.

I wiped blood and sweat from my eyes. Her features cleared. Scars of fire and previous wounds concealed her age. A red cloak stained in blood and dust concealed her body. I glanced around. My fallen kin covered the Higher Temple terrace. The stench of charred meat choked me.

“The Minaret of Renewal!” I tried to sit but swayed.

She put her arm around my shoulders. “It’s safe.”  She pointed at the magnificent blue tower behind the courtyard wall.

The world had become a smudge of red and ochre as if the sky bled and burned along with the citadel. An ominous silence gripped my heart. “The enemy’s army?”

“Destroyed,” she scanned the surroundings, “but the Devourers of Souls entered the citadel.”

“What?” I looked at the top of the Minaret. “No light comes from the Beacon of Hope!”

 “That’s why the shadows entered. Get up! Your work is not over.” She tried to pull me up. I didn’t move.

We failed. The torment from my severed bond increased. “All High Warriors are gone and I am broken… in more ways than one.”

She straightened and scowled. “Victory is a matter of will and it starts with choice.” 

My grandfather’s last words to the High Warriors! I looked up. The power in her gaze equaled the Chosen One’s. Impossible!  “Who are you?”

“Ariana, but that doesn’t matter. The Beacon—”

Screams rose from the North, wild and shrill.  A dark shadow leapt the last steps onto the marble terrace.

My gun! I lost it!

Ariana took out an energy gun from under her cloak. She blasted the Devourer’s core. It cracked and unraveled in countless bluish wisps of trapped souls that darted to the sky. “They’ve reached the Lower Temple. Will you make Adleon’s death useless or will you make him proud?”

I struggled to my feet, ignoring my pain. It would torment me for a long time. “What do you know—”

Ariana pushed a sheathed sword against my chest plate, nearly sending me down again.

 “Hey, easy now!” My guts twisted when I grabbed the sword. The carvings were unmistakable. “This is the Grand General’s.”

 “Final victory depends on you lighting the Beacon of Hope to destroy the Devourers.”

“Me?”

Civilians fleeing from the shadows flooded the Higher Temple terrace.

She clasped my arm and yelled to the survivors. “Into the sacred courtyard!”

We ran in a tight group. I halted under the arcade. Arianna trotted back. A hundred people crossed the courtyard and crowded against the Minaret wall.

I leaned against a column. “Can’t light the Beacon on my own.”

“Get them to help you!” She pointed at the crowd.

 “It’s not that easy! The Grand General instilled his power into the High Warriors. We lit the Beacon together!” My grip on the sword tightened. “A sword doesn’t make me my grandfather. People need Adleon, the Chosen One!”

“No! People need to believe they are Adleon. Not every hero is chosen. Many volunteer to become one. You lost your family but they still need you to keep fighting. Adleon needs you to live by what he taught you. He believed in you!” She squeezed my hand. “And so do I.”

The passion in her eyes ignited renewed energy in my worn-out body.

“The Devourers!” People screamed at the shadows approaching the arcade, large and dark as their despair.

Ariana and I sprinted to the Minaret. Keeping her back against mine, Ariana gunned the Devourers within range. I faced the survivors.  “People of Theria! Adleon died to protect you by preserving the Minaret of Renewal—”

“The Chosen One is dead!” Some wailed, others shrank against the tower. The nefarious shadows closed in.

Grandfather, if your power resides in me help me to awaken it.

My voice rose over chaos. “We must complete Adleon’s mission! Lighting the Beacon of Hope will save us from our enemies!”

“Without the Chosen One? How?” Someone retorted among the crowd. The Devourers crossed the arcade. Ariana’s energy gun buzzed. Shadows cracked behind me.

“There might not be a Chosen One to make things right for you, but you can choose to be the One!” Conviction overcame my doubts as I spoke. “You don’t choose the obstacles in your life, but how you face them will always be your choice. Make the right one now! Adleon’s unique power came from the certainty that we are more than flesh and bone. There’s courage, determination, and love inside each of us. Allow yourselves to believe victory can be yours! Seize it!”

Electricity coiled up my spine, a sign of many newly awaken energies that met and joined mine. My pain from the severed bond diminished as another bond took place. The Devourers froze a couple yards away. “Today, you are High Warriors! Today, believe in yourselves and in others! Use the power of will and let our enemy feel it!”

“For Theria!” Ariana shouted, raising her fist up.

“For Theria!” Our war cry carried the force of enraged waves, crashing against Devourers front-line.

The synergy spread and expanded stronger than anything I’d seen before. The power Adleon possessed manifested itself in every gleaming eye. The tide of determination was nearly tangible. The Minaret’s top flashed. The Devourers wailed and cracked, unraveling under a silver blaze from above. The Beacon of Hope shone brighter than ever. I grinned. My grandfather was right.

Victory is a matter of will and it starts with choice.

After a lot of hesitation, I decided Mexico would join Mark Koopmans' prompt for a moment of reflection in his 50 States of Pray bloghop. He asked for a moment and about 100 words to share a prayer, a thought, a memory, a hope or even a regret about the past and/or wish for the future to come.

The following thought, as the previous story, I dedicate to all those who are going through difficult times and can hardly find a reason to celebrate. I dedicate it to those who need a hero in their lives, to those with fears, to those with aches and those in need of change. May you all be blessed.

All the Difference in the World

Somewhere I read a story. It was a long time ago so I don't quite remember it but it went more or less like this.

There was a boy once. After a storm he walked along the beach, picking up shells and starfish the tides had washed over the sand and he returned them to the sea. Hours passed and he realized he had returned very few, compared to the number of those that still remained along the beach.

Disheartened, he turned to his father. "I quit," he said. "Look at the beach, it's pointless! There are so many no one would say I've spent so much time here already.  I am really not making any difference."

The father placed his hand on his son's head. "For the ones you're helping, it makes all the difference in the world."

****

I've received many gifts from this community since I started my blog. E-books, Amazon Cards, paper books, music, a tablet... I have already thanked the givers at the moment I received the gifts. Yet on Friday I got the autographed Audiomachine CD, "Tree of Life". It was the prize for my collaboration in the Branching Out Collaborative Writing Challenge hosted by awesome Samantha Geary. As I listened to this amazing CD, I thought on all the gifts I received up to this one. I thought on the people who had sent them to me, the moment they arrived to my life and how they have impacted my life at one time or another.

Anybody would think they are just books, or music, or a tablet. So what's special in them? I'm surely not the only one who has these items or the only one who has received something from these people. Most likely those who sent them to me have absolutely no idea of the magnitude of my gratitude towards them. That's why I'm feeling the need to write this post. 

To the senders, these things represent exactly what they are. To me, they're marvels worth more than gold. They are more than entertainment. 

I appreciate the fact that the person took the time and effort to send it all the way to Mexico. I grin like an idiot as I read and re-read the few words that came along. Some didn't bring a personal note, but I have the person's thoughts and I hold on to that. Furthermore, if I would express in detail the impact of each of these gifts in my life, it would be a very long post. I would have to tell you about the item AND about the forces that were put in motion through those items. Each one has a story behind it and not precisely the one inside the pages (in the case of books).

Regardless what your eyes may tell you, what you see in the picture above is a wonderful painkiller and soul breather, a remedy for broken wings, a pack of love and hugs, a soul mirror, a tool for hope and faith, and a sign from Above. Each time I look at each one of these items, each time I hold them in my dragon hands, I cannot help but to think on the respective senders and thank them again and again in my heart. I pray to the Higher Powers each of them receive blessings of equal magnitude to the ones they unknowingly produced in my life. 

DPK, Alex, Laura, Mike, Sammy, Melissa, I want you to know that even if to you it was nothing, you made all the difference in the world to me.

To everybody I say this. Never be disheartened if you see there's still too much to do, or that you're doing too little and covering short distances. Or that you reach too few. You do make all the difference in the world in every single life you touch, even if you don't always get to see it or know it. It might be a slight gesture for you, but it still may work miracles for someone else. Even a kind smile has the power to save someone's life. Do not underestimate the good you can do, just because you don't see the effects. There is more in this world than what our sight can cover or our brain perceives.

Celebrating Dragon Joys and Blessings

Celebrate the Small Things is the brilliant idea of VikLit. Each Friday we post something we wish to celebrate achieving or doing during the week. It can be writing/reading or life related. You can find the list and join here.

First my Celebrations:
1. Just when I said I would write no more, I had the honor to be part of one amazing project that turned into a great success. The Tree of Life, created by Samantha Geary Jones, inspired on music by Audiomachine. You can find the whole story and the music here. It came out to be a wonderful, wonderful experience. I enjoyed being among truly talented writers and even though I felt I was not up to their level, I'm thankful for the invitation and the opportunity.

2. I'm grateful for all the birthday notes, cards and comments left in my Sunday post and in Facebook. I am pretty aware I've been a terrible, lousy blogger buddy in the past months weeks. My visits are very scarce and yet, you came to wish me well. I didn't hold high expectations and I really thank you for dropping by and brightening my day with your friendship.

3. Dragon is also performing the happy dragon dance because of Alex Cavanaugh's birthday gift; a copy of CassaStar. I was dying to get this book and I really appreciate the thoughtful gesture. Furthermore, I am grateful for such an excellent friend. I take this chance to also thank you, Alex, for all your help and support in the Mini Ipad matter. Although it will still take a long tour from Texas to South Carolina to Michigan and down again before it gets to me (hopefully before the century is over), nothing would have happened without your help. I'm in your debt.

4. I'm grateful to the Higher Powers who came to this dragon's rescue in the hour of need, (physical, economical and emotional.) When I got to level zero, Higher Powers proved once again there are mighty hands that are still holding me, that my efforts are acknowledged and that they still smile at me, in spite of everything. I'm humbled and thankful for the lessons learned.

So I have missed a couple Friday Celebrations, an IWSG post and I owe you hundreds of visits. My excuses? I could tell you I've been feeding Mother Dragon's canaries. (I am not sure if that's a cat's tail or the beard of a dwarf. I haven't counted them lately.)

I could also say I got myself a professional counselor who is teaching me new techniques on how to redirect anger, anxiety and frustration in a safe, controlled manner. Dwarves and I are discussing whether we prefer the Bite-Your-Own-Leg technique or the Feed-the-Canary-with-Whoever-Upsets-You strategy.

But instead of giving you excuses or going into confusing explanations of the indomitable nature of dragons, I will leave you all dragon hugs. Huge, heartfelt dragon hugs to last until next time. I'll see you when I see you, it might be any day of the week, here or at your blog. I ate the schedules, so forgive me if I play impromptu for a while. If you forget me, I'll hug you until the dragon comes back to your memory again. Dragons are difficult to forget anyway, if not by their deeds, then by their size, their dashing looks or their morning dragon breaths, hahaha. ;)