Writing of the magic in my every day, here on my blog, fuels the fire within my imagination, that place where my dreams speak the loudest, their faces and expressions, voices and emotions, all becoming as real as the world around me….
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Venice, late 17th Century
She ran in short spurts through the frigid rain, bare feet numb with cold, eyes peering from beneath her cloak just enough to watch her step. Falling and losing her lead would be worse than being recognized. In this part of town there were sure to be allies. Discrete, but allies, nonetheless. She hoped any others would be asleep or warming themselves beside their fires, not peering out their windows at a dark figure slipping through the winding streets of Venice. Nobleman or peasant, everyone knew any honorable citizen would be behind closed doors at such a late hour. Isabella’s eyes scanned above her, resting on an oil lamp flickering in the breeze, behind her at the monstrous shadows lurching back and forth. She adjusted her hold on the sacred book clutched to her chest, squeezing it closer as if it were an innocent child. Don’t worry. I wont let them find you. But where? Where will I hide you? Guide me. Show me the way. My very life depends upon it.
A gust of wind hurled toward her, ripping the cloak away from her red hair just as she entered the piazza. “There she is! Over there! Quickly!”
Isabella’s heart froze. Her lungs heaved under fire. Suddenly, she knew where to go. Yes, it was her only option. She rounded the corner faster than she knew her body capable. Only a few more paces. Just the book. That’s all that matters now. Just the book.
Few knew of its existence. Even fewer were allowed to enter. And certainly no one considered a woman capable of appreciating or even comprehending the contents of the library. Only the highest circles knew that a courtesan was afforded such privileges. The book would be safe there. Isabella leaned into the polished wood door with her one free hand, pushing it open with the divine grace she was famous for. Not a sound. Just hurried breathing and a pounding heart.