Saturday, December 22, 2012

Ghosts of Christmas Past

Ahhh, welcome, Laura. What a neat twist on A Christmas Carol. Gotta love the classics. And the heartache in this one just makes me want to dive in. So happy to see it in the Extravaganza stories!


Eleven Christmas Eves ago, young Libby Taylor said goodbye to her newborn son. With only her music dreams to keep her going, she vowed to someday make a life he could be part of. With a recording contract on the horizon, now seems like the perfect time, but an accident on an icy road sends Libby on a strange detour.

Badly injured and alone, she finds herself guided on a spiritual journey of discovery by the imagined ghosts of idolized music legends whose own mistakes mirror her personal choices.

Forced to examine the consequences of her past, present, and even her future, will Libby learn from the mistakes of the past before it’s too late, or will she survive only to lose everything that truly matters—including a chance for love?

Here's a little peek:

“While you sleep, dreams will come, on stars so clear and true...” As she sang, her fingers tucked aside the striped blanket from around the sleeping infant’s face, revealing tiny flushed cheeks. The slow rocking motion of the nursery chair lulled the baby closer to her body. The room was silent and dim, except for the winking lights of a Christmas tree in one corner.

The door opened, a nurse on the other side. Beside her was a woman in a business suit carrying a sheaf of papers in a portfolio.

“Ms. Libby Taylor?” she asked, reading a name affixed to the portfolio. “Are you ready?” She offered a sympathetic smile.

The girl nodded. “I’m ready.” Her mouth pressed inwards as she loosened her hold on the bundle, the woman’s arms sliding between her and the child.

“Hello there,” crooned the woman, shifting the bundle gently against her shoulder. “Ready to see your new family?”

The baby stirred slightly and whimpered.

“There’s some papers you’ll need to sign, Ms. Taylor,” the woman continued, “and if you want to talk to them—”

“No…no, I don’t. Thanks.” Arms now empty, her hands rested on her lap. She watched as the woman, carrying the baby in her arms, turned towards the waiting nurse. The door closed behind them, two shapes disappearing from behind the square of glass at the top.

The girl closed her eyes. “It’s for the best,” she whispered. Once, then again, as if to convince herself it was true. Her chair began rocking again, her arms wrapped against her body.

Slee-py time, comes to you, on wings of white and blue.

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