Having survived valve repair surgery and an experimental cardiac bypass at age 5, three years before it was an accepted medical procedure, Susan grew into the size of her overworked and enlarged heart. Maybe she thought she had enough to give it away -- twice. Both times, she had to retrieve the shattered pieces and puzzle them back together. She thanks her Dad for the only advice of his she ever followed to the letter: "Never get married. Learn to take care of yourself." So of course she is a writer. Susan has co-written a YA SciFi novel, and has three more novels in various stages of evolution. She's had several short stories published in other people's anthologies, some of which were contest-related.
Let her tell you a story...
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All eyes followed them as First Combat Master Vladimir the Just escorted Elliot the length of the dining hall to a square door recessed into the wall facing the High Priestess’ table. Only half the height of any other door in the Tower, its lock fought valiantly against the key Master Vlad inserted, in a vain attempt to keep the secret it guarded.
Its heavy planks dragged open on hinges rusty from neglect and disuse, the door’s screeching protest pierced all ears and overpowered all pained gasps as the Master revealed a dark opening at the top of a stairway to blackness.
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Photo credit: Carlos del Pico
In the second deepest chamber beneath the Tower of Honor, an expansive room carved out of porous white stone, the residents gathered to confer, converse, and dine. Organic lighting spread cheer with its impression of sunny windows.
As the High Priestess entered, everyone — hundreds, Elliot estimated — stood. Acknowledging them with a nod, she led him to a laden table on the raised dais at one end of the hall, then turned to the waiting diners.
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Wasp nests, honeycombs, mantis egg masses — symmetry wasn’t new to Elliot. But the alien nature of this arched room overwhelmed his ability to imagine its creator.
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To Elliot’s great relief, the ancient priestess’s heart did not explode. Step after step, gasp after gasp, rest after breathless rest, she made it to the top. Standing with her eyes closed in light filtered green through the trees, her shoulders heaved with each ragged inhalation.
“You’re right,” Elliot said, “it’s marvelous.” Watching her ravaged breathing, he added, “I could just stand here and soak it in for hours.”
But it took only a few minutes for the High Priestess to recover.
“What do you see here?” she asked as they followed the emerald light being pushed by the spreading carpet of approaching night.
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Photo credit: David Steinmann
The hallway they entered was taller, but narrower than the one Elliot had come in through. Familiar with mushroom glow and the winking flicker of fireflies, he couldn’t explain the lighting until he saw it close up. Do they wander? he wondered to himself, vowing not to sleep while he was here.
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Photo credit: Neil Wade
Elliot’s eyes narrowed.“How do you know my name?”
“Good news still travels to the heart of the Ancient Forest.”
“Good news?”
“Yes. We’ve been expecting you,” the High Priestess confided as she limped down the steps to hunch before him.
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Photo credit: Igor Siwanowicz
Well, he might have just killed me. Elliot caught and released a deep, calming breath. “Thank you for asking,” he said. “My name is Elliot, and my guide left me outside with instructions to go inside.”
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Picking out a path past rocky outcrops and over mossy stones, Elliot worked his way around the base of the tower until he found a passage that disappeared into darkness beneath an overhang that almost hid its opening.
This can’t possibly be the main entrance, he assured himself. It must be a vent or a back way nobody uses. But because it was the only way in that he’d found, he approached with caution.
“Hello?” His timid call couldn’t have carried beyond the bend in the tunnel.
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Photo credit: Chronophontes
Elliot had followed her willingly, enchanted by her flowing stride and silent confidence. Her feathers shimmered with iridescent sparkles that bound him to her just as surely as ropes and chains. The little warning voice he’d learned to heed whispered — nothing.
Without reason, without thought, without common sense, he’d trusted her, and now, facing a massive structure of stone and wood built against a hillside of the oldest trees he’d ever seen, he had no idea where he was.
“I thought you were taking me back to the bower. Where are we? And don’t say, ‘here’!”
Her answer was to throw back her head and release a trilling note that filled the woods like wind. From the treetops all around, a whistled melody replied.
She cocked her head. “We’re in the heart of the Ancient Forest,” she said as if that explained everything.
“But what is this place? Why did you bring me here?”
Her warm laugh rippled through him. “So many questions. I’m sorry, Elliot, but I’m not the one to answer them. In fact, I have to leave you now.” He started to object, and she placed the tip of a single feather on his lips. “Go inside. You’ll be in good hands, my friend, and we may yet meet again.”
It was only as she flew beyond the tangled canopy that he realized he hadn’t even asked her name.
Shaking regret out of his head, he began his search for the entrance.
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Photo credit: Harry Finder
“Leave us,“ Queen Lilian instructed her entourage as she entered the bower. Clifton followed her, laying the semi-conscious Vernon on the moss mat Cassandra had prepared. The mushrooms were just beginning to glow.
“He’s worse?” Cassandra sponged cool water onto his forehead.
Space, Time, and Raspberries 
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