It’s Wednesday which means it’s time to talk about something from the back list or “WIPile.” I’m not much for a historical read. That is, I don’t like to write them. I’m always afraid I’ll mess something up or miss something completely and jack up history. Wouldn’t that suck?

Well I’m facing my fear and attempting a WWII historical centering on Julian Sark, Grahf Ansel Falco and Hans Engel. Below is something I came up with in the middle of the night. I’m not sure if I’ll use this or not but it definitely captures the feel of the book.

Everyone’s story is different.

Despite the profound differences, everyone’s story holds a kernel of eerie similarity. We all have unique trying tails of abuse, neglect, heart ache, separation, and pain but they all share the same origin.

Everyone’s story starts six years ago. Some’s stories have ended too soon. Their pages ripped away by circumstances of their birth. Others stories ended by their own hand. Feelings of hopelessness and despair weighed them down till their hearts strained under the pressure, stuttering to a halt. Some ripped open their veins, spilling who they are for everyone to see.

What’s the most trying is no one cares. Not anymore. Each keep to themselves for fear of caring too much only to be let down like so many times before. We cannot afford to care. Not anymore.

To care is to die.