One day gave me a new life. Another day gave me a nightmare. Then I woke up and realized - the nightmare was my new life.
What makes good fiction? A compelling plot, a twist, suspense, romance - all of which make a good book. But great fiction? That's different - great fiction is almost believable. It takes a reader into a life and holds them there, makes them see the light, hear the sounds, experience the thrills, the horror, the romance - to the extent that it takes logic to rationalize that what they are reading, what they are feeling, isn't real. That is great fiction.
That is why I don't want to write my story.
I'm afraid that people will read it, experience it, be in my story, and then realize with a laugh that they had just been sucked into yet another book of fiction. For you see, this is not fiction. This is my life.
And yet, what else can be done? I cannot let my husband's story die. I cannot let my memories go. I cannot let go of the past; it won't let me. It haunts my dreams and my waking hours; it won't let me rest. THEY won't let me rest. And go figure - it's not everyday that someone saves the world.
Now mind you, I'm not looking for gratitude. I don't want a medal. I just want the nightmares to stop. Maybe if I let them go, let them out, they will leave me. You just happen to be the unfortunate victim of my attempt to regain my sanity.
Then again, I have no remorse, neither am I apologetic. After all, the greatest of tragedies make the best fiction.