When I started to write currents, I wanted to introduce Nonosbawsut to the readers the same way he introduced himself to me. For what I came up with please see below.
Before me lies a vastness that I cannot pick up in my hands and hold in my arms. But even if I could, I wouldn’t try to hold onto the sea—for nature, is not meant to be possessed. Behind me are forests, filled with the creatures we share this Earth with. The wind slips through their branches, their fur and into the hair of my people; each breath uniting spirits who have long been friends.
I stand tall. My stance is the same as the trees around me. With feet firmly rooted to the ground, the Earth’s spirit travels up into the souls of my feet; as a reminder that I’m a part of this land and it, me. I stand, where my ancestors for many generations have stood—where I had hoped—many would stand after me. But I will be the last; because the currents bring change.
Change is blown from a faraway place to claim our lands. It rides in a boat filled with white faces who speak in a strange tongue. Our people will not understand their words. And, we will not understand their ways—nor they, ours. Knowing our roots are about to be shaken, my feet remain firmly planted—waiting for what the tides bring.
The white man and my story flows before my eyes like two waves in a storm until one overpowers the other and sends it smashing into the shore. I know this story for I am living it. The wind has shown me what it would have been like for my ancestors standing up high on the cliffs looking out in the distance as the strange boats swam closer. But, the wind is not finished talking.
The wind speaks again. In its breath it carries another vision. It drops it in my sleep and its words unfold in pictures that strike my heart like lightening. The sky is black. It holds silence tightly against its chest while I stand behind a raging fire. There is no crackle. No sparks. Silence speaks through the tongue of orange flames that dart high into the blackened night. Each tip flicks further into the sky reaching up to where the stars should be. The licking flames light up my skin which is painted in ochre. A long dark braid hangs down my back, where the braid begins three feathers, one white and two black are poked in. I remain calm. Nose like a hawk faces the eyes of night.
As I revisit currents one of the elements I want to ensure is it’s Nonosbawsut’s voice and not mine coming out through the pages of my novel. As I embark on this adventure (yet again), to remind myself, not only did I want to review our introduction to each other I also consulted my character’s personality outline. Please see below.
Nonosbawsut Character Outline
I was fairly confident Nonosbawsut’s presence was still with me, but it’s nice to remember the newness of our first encounter and the wonder that came with it? It seems like yesterday, when I woke up from what I thought was a dream thinking…wow?! Who was that?
Based on the outline, can you see Nonosbawsut’s personality and his physicality reveal itself in the intro?
Picture: google images: www.cs.mun.ca
Activist, World traveller. Fan of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.