On June 6, 2006 a blood vessel in my brain broke open. With
no place to go, the blood pressed into my brain tissue, destroying it. The pain
struck me like a knife into my skull, and then I went blind but only on one
side. Within minutes, I felt nothing on my left side. When the doctor asked me
to squeeze her hand I couldn’t. By the time my brain stabilized, I had lost a
ball of gray matter the size of a pencil eraser. I will have hallucinations,
migraines, and a host of other issues for the rest of my life.
I’m grateful for the brain hemorrhage every day. While I’m
glad I survived and thankful that I recovered so much functionality, the
hemorrhage itself was a blessing that changed my life for the better in
countless ways.
Almost immediately I gained a profound appreciation for
life. I stopped focusing on the small insults and battles every day and
celebrated the accomplishments, the triumphs. I told the people I loved I how I
felt about them. I stopped giving my time to things that didn’t bring me joy. Realizing
the clock was ticking, I began taking the time every day to write. I finished
my first novel before a year had passed. That day changed my perspective; death
became real, not a nebulous idea that might come someday. My dreams weren’t something to get eventually,
but daily actions I insisted taking.
It’s not always easy to see the gift that comes with a
crisis, but after almost ten years, I’m glad for all the things that came along
thanks to the hole in my head.
BLURB:
Mallory Mors, death witch and detective with Baton Rouge’s
Supernatural Investigative Unit, controls every aspect of death; she can even
touch a dead body and know how it died. When she’s called to the scene of the
city’s first zombie attack her magic leads her to a voodoo queen who claims to
be controlled by werewolves. The Werewolf Protection League, a political
organization fighting for werewolf rights, insists they have nothing to do with
the killings. As the kidnappings and murders continue, everyone becomes a
suspect. Aided by her boyfriend, a six hundred year old vampire, and all the
supernatural citizens of her city, Mallory fights to close a case that may
claim her life.
EXCERPT:
A thousand details flooded my mind. Her last thought had
been about her grandchildren. My mind filled with images of fur and teeth,
something large and rank. Her death had been terribly slow. Claws ripped into
her skin, tearing her limbs apart. She hadn't been lucky enough to die from
blood loss. A heart attack killed her. I wondered if she recognized the
symptoms as she watched her attacker eat her limbs.
I moved from her body to the limb beside it. The leg was
still wearing its white nurse's uniform. The knob of the joint looked polished
in the morning sunlight. I put my hand on top of the cloth and a second surge
of information flooded me. He ran from them, listening to the sounds of his
coworker being torn apart. He had been a runner, but he hadn't been fast enough
to outrun the thing that ripped him apart.
"Older female and middle aged male," I said to the
technician. He supplied their names but I ignored them. My mind was still with
them, still dying with them. I walked up to the tree. There was a thick stain
six feet up on the trunk. I put my hand on top of the mark and saw the death of
the man.
"What happened?" Danny asked quietly.
"It chased him down, grabbing his leg there," I
pointed to where the limb remained. "It ripped the leg out, and then
carried the rest of him back here. It lifted him up. It looked at him. Then it
ate the heart out of his chest."
"Zombie?"
"Werewolf." The wolf had devoured his heart in
front of him, just like in my nightmare.
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Wow, Rachel, so thankful you're okay and that you managed to turn what could have been a tragedy into a triumph. So glad to have you here with us today.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Angela! I'm very, very lucky to have recovered so much. That's for giving me a chance to share the story of how it changed my life.
ReplyDeleteYour story is an inspiration for all of us. Life is fragile and often times far too short. Live, love, and laugh often. I treasure these three "L" words. Thanks so much, Rachel for sharing. Wishing you all the best! And I love your blurb and excerpt. :)
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DeleteThanks and You're Welcome, Mary!
DeleteWhat an important message for all of us! Thanks for sharing your story.
ReplyDeleteYou're welcome! Cavernous Angiomas (like mine) are strokes that happen at any age. I was lucky to have an experienced team of caregivers that knew how to treat me. I hope my story helps someone someday.
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