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Susan L. Marshall Books

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Wild Soul

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“As the sun continued to rise, the tune became more intoxicating, lulling me into a completely relaxed state. I allowed my mind to drift, imagining I was walking through a pretty meadow full of roses. In my mind’s eye, I held a rose flower in my hands and sniffed at it, my eyes shining with pure happiness. In my dreamy state, the air smelled of roses, warming my spirit and coaxing me to stop and rest. Lying back in the grass, I stretched my arms up to the sky, inviting the sun to join me. Warm tingles rippled across my skin and eased the pressure in my head. I was light, drifting through the breeze and letting the wind take me somewhere untouched and soothing.”

HappinessMusicMysterySafeRosesLiteraryChildhood MemoryBeauty Of NatureDay DreamingFlute
Book:Adira and the Dark Horse
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“The wax of my single tallow candle has melted considerably and only a tiny spark of life remains in its fire. As I sit at this desk, its flailing light bewitches me. My hands are clutched tightly together, trying to summon my energy to regain my composure. Inside my heart, a deep sadness resides, creeping its way through my body. Lowering my hands to my womb, I feel a great sense of hollow emptiness. Once there sat a precious life, wrestling its way inside my being and sparking my heart with love and hope.”

GriefMysteryLonelinessLetterLiteraryEpistolaryEmpressFading LightLove And HopeFemale Sadness
Book:Adira and the Dark Horse
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“The Emperor likes to keep an eye on all mail sent from the palace and so he does not approve of the use of envelopes. So I have learned how to employ the ancient art of letter locking: delicately folding and slitting sections of the letter and gluing them down with adhesive where necessary. I feel a lightness of life to know that my words in this letter are sealed away and will only be revealed to you.”

MysteryLonelinessSecretsLetterLiteraryEpistolaryEmpressAncient Letter ArtLetter Locking
Book:Adira and the Dark Horse
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“A young girl’s stroke has breathed us life upon this luscious, grassy meadow. Unbound we float in the aether, protecting the sanctuary of life below. To grow, this world needs nurturing only Lady Solary’s warmth can provide. Yet light flickers briefly then fades, like a struck match failing to ignite.”

GrowthProtectionNew LifeSanctuarySpiritual TransformationDark And LightShades Of LifeFading LightNatural Spirit
Book:All the Hope We Carry
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“The land of Maren, my island, calls to me in my fretful sleep. Like dancing ribbons of light, it winds its memories around my starved, yearning torso, tearing at my aching heart. “I am twirling now, unravelling a ribbon memory of light, warm sand and cresting waves around me. “To feel at breath with my unique, native land and to retrace my footprints across its terrains would be ... heavenly.”

WarIdentityMemoryIslandOriginNative LandHeart AcheSpiritual ConnectionAttunementRetracing Footprints
Book:All the Hope We Carry
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“I feel the searing, burning of my hands, caught alight by the red-tipped fire. Silent I am, mesmerised by the flames that have now caught me in their trap. Fire is bad. Fire takes people away. Claire’s words are accurate. I am in a burning dream world. One that I may never leave. My hands and arms are now alight and my eyes are stinging with tears.”

WarFireDangerMetaphorBurningWrathDream WorldTrapContemporary FantasyWar Survivor
Book:All the Hope We Carry
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“The familiar tune returns, its drifting quality heightened in pitch, like the sound of a bird, free flying through the soft breeze. I allow myself to believe that I may just be that bird, taking a small adventure across my tiny island. I could have wings that soar, high above the red stained streets into a much calmer, brighter sky.”

WarSpiritualBirdMemoryVisualizationTuneWar SurvivorYearning For FreedomFlight Of FreedomSoaring Wings
Book:All the Hope We Carry
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“Father reaches out to touch my scarf. “Your mother’s scarf,” he says softly. “She loved this so very much, you know. I remember her creative streak, how she refused to use the strong dye colours that we usually use for silk design. Instead, she preferred a shade of white, which would not sell as successfully in trade. She loved this scarf, the way it sat humbly around her neck and gave her senses of comfort and peace as she held you tight. You would often beg to wear it, Aisha.” I stroke the scarf subconsciously. A memory flashes in my mind of my mother’s shaking hands as she shaped spun silk into this beautiful scarf. My gentle mother, who coughed violently and shook, plagued she was with an illness that had deteriorated her immensely. I spent every moment I could with her, my heart knowing that each might be my last. “Beautiful Aisha, wear this scarf with your love,” said my mother one morning as she tied it around my neck. I stared at her, my lips wobbling as tears rolled down my cheeks. “I’ll wear it, always loving you, Mother,” I replied. My mother nodded, her eyes also filling with tears as she realised that I understood how little time we had left together.”

LoveFamilyMysterySilkLiteraryEpistolaryMother Daughter BondSilk TradeHeritage Silk Scarf
Book:Adira and the Dark Horse
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“Unfurl my body, wind, lift me up into the branches of a majestic beauty that guides a people through life. I would sway with you, branches, taking that journey across the ages. Tossing my own mane of leaves through the quiet, awaiting air. Silently, I choose to engage with your wisdom.”

WisdomSongMysteryMetaphorLiterarySpiritual ConnectionNature ConnectionForest ConservationMajestic TreesSilk Trade Route
Book:Adira and the Dark Horse
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“Gusts of fiery winds blow, blasting a furnace of heat. The air rings with the shrill screams of my beloved carnations. Rising and falling, they shed their flower heads upon the worn, foot trodden dirt. Staring up, their heads smile sadly, their petals shedding tears. Rolling across the planks, they reach out for me. The carnation flower's scent is fragrant in the breeze. It wakes me so I escape the dark world of dreams.”

EnvironmentMysteryMetaphorFlowersConservationNature S BeautySpiritual ConnectionDark DreamsNatural SpiritCarnation Scent
Book:Fleur of Yesterday
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“Old, yet beloved to my family, the cart is marked with the prints and sweat of our ancestors, who began our journeys in trade. I carry our world in this cart, wares we have taken ages to create. Foraging through earth and trees to source our natural ingredients. Wares I push with deep pride, along the sloping, uneven terrain. I can travel further with the cart and expand my avenues for trade.”

MysteryPoemLiteraryAncestorsEpistolaryWaresHeritage TradeCarrying Our WorldHeritage CartNatural Ingredients
Book:Adira and the Dark Horse
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