We just exited 2020, so you may have wondered if I was writing about cash from the government when you saw the title of this post. 🙂 But I’m thinking about a different kind of stimulus – I’m thinking about the things that supply stimulus to our imaginations. Like this image my husband recently captured at one of our favorite state parks. The opening through the trees in this picture prompted something in my imagination. I envisioned a young woman gazing out of a frosty window during a snowstorm. I saw her as emotionless yet furious. Her heart ice cold but bent on revenge. Because of the photo above, my imagination was stimulated and the opening to a new novel was born. The imagination is a mysterious and glorious gift. It needs only the right stimulus for new and wondrous worlds to emerge!
December 24, 1892
She stood at the window, unmoving. She gazed through the small circle she’d created by scraping away the ice that had formed. As far as the eye could see, there was snow. It clung to the bare branches of the trees in the garden and cloaked the hedges with its pristine beauty. Like a glorious white carpet, it spread across the lawn into infinity. Its beauty made the ache return. The ache for what she would never have now. She slowly raised her hand and pressed her palm against the glass. Cold. So cold. Like her heart.
After several minutes, she turned from the window and stared at the silver tea set atop the small table situated between the two settees. It gleamed as if it were brand new. She’d made sure that it looked perfect. Now it was waiting. Waiting for him to come and partake.
She took a step away from the window and moved toward the table, the hem of her skirts rustling across the wood floor as she went. The sound was oddly comforting as she contemplated the unpleasantness that was to come.
She hadn’t chosen this course. It had been thrust upon her. His actions had made it necessary. When one steals something so precious, one must pay the price. And he would pay. He certainly would pay.