Heather

Heather


11-year-old Heather is arrestingly beautiful. 

She is also unusually perceptive. 

Her mother is dark vermillion. 

Her aunt coral blue. 

Her uncle yellow and black 

Like the dead cat in the ditch after the rain. 

She speaks aloud to her dead father, the moon, the sun, and the stars. 

The trees, the fields, the birds. 

And the river. 




ebook 

paperback


Literary Goal

To present the notion that the world  surrounding us is much deeper, more complex, far more beautiful than can be immediately perceived. It takes someone like Heather diagnosed with Autism but with the gift of exceptional perception to see all the color, the nuanced shadowing, both externally to us as well as within us. 

To see a World in a Grain of Sand

And a Heaven in a Wild Flower

 Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand 

And Eternity in an hour


William Blake, Auguries of Innocence, 1803

Chapter One

The Moon

Heather leaned out the window. The moon floated behind and above her; she couldn’t see it, but its light was pure and white. It reflected off the silvered surface of the river, hurting her eyes: crazy, crazy, dancing diamonds in the night. She leaned further out and found the moon suspended full in the sky, crystalline and pure, held up by some magical force. She had no idea what kept it up there waxing and waning, sometimes big, sometimes smaller, but knew that when or if it should let go it would strike the black horizon then shatter into a thousand pieces. In her mind, in her heart, she could feel herself following the moon downward—falling, falling—the embracing brightness enveloping the little girl she knew she was: black glass shattering against black glass.