Page 99 -- Triune by Willow Polson

Page 99 of Triune
A Fantasy Novel
by Willow Polson
Reprinted with Permission: © 2010 Willow Polson, All Rights Reserved

Book Description: The Mason brothers had always been close, but until the day ex-Navy officer Mike discovered he was actually an angel, they had no idea just how close.

This paranormal/urban fantasy novel brings readers along on the Mason brothers' shared journey of discovery, because where one brother goes, the other two follow, sometimes kicking and screaming. Not everything is heavenly for these three men tossed into strange new circumstances without an instruction manual, and being an angel isn't as easy as it sounds. But along with the thorns there are roses, and for the suddenly-immortal Mason brothers, the journey is only beginning.
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“I am an angel. Far as I know, anyway. My name happens to be Mike, or Michael, but I’m not the big guy on the candles. Okay?” He looked earnestly into Javier’s dark brown eyes, which were glued to the huge dark wings that moved gently with each breath. Mike smiled softly and plucked out a medium-sized feather, and handed it to him.

“We’re around,” Mike said quietly. How he knew there were others, he didn’t know, but if nothing else, logic dictated that there had to be more than just himself and his brothers walking the earth. “We can’t be everywhere, but we do the best we can. Here,” he said, taking the candles out of the alleyway and handing them to the woman and her son. “Take them somewhere safer.”

Javier gave the feather to his mother, who took it with a shaking hand, and gave her two of the candles to help carry. “Can we... would it be all right if I kept this one...?” he asked, indicating the unlit candle he’d brought.

Mike shrugged. “Like I said, I’m not him. Just tell whoever’s leaving these things to light them somewhere else, all right? It’s a nice gesture, but I’d rather not burn down my brother’s studio.” He realized as soon as he said it that he probably shouldn’t have, but also remembered that he’d said something about Brian being his brother on that first night to the drug dealers in the alley. If nothing else, he figured, maybe they’d stop breaking into Brian’s car because of him.

“What about them?” Javier asked, nodding at the brothers in the distance, which only confused his mother. A tiny smile crept up on one half of Mike’s face.

“Who?” he replied with a wink, and then it was Javier’s turn to smile a little.

“Uh...” he said, recovering, “...the other angels. That are... around.”

“Like I said, we do the best we can. Hey, I gotta get going. You should too.” On a whim, he decided to give them a good show, and took a few steps back. They were good people, he knew somehow, and he wanted to give them a little treat for helping to keep the alley clear of the candles, if nothing else. He pushed off powerfully with a muscular sweep of his wings, his brothers deciding to follow, Javier’s mother crying out with surprise when she suddenly saw them as well.
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Willow Polson
Writer and whatnot.
Willow Polson's major in college was Art, and was on the Education track at SFSU to get a secondary school teaching credential when two things happened: Her dad decided to stop paying for college, and she answered an ad for a full-time graphic artist for EGW Publishing, which produces consumer magazines. The job was interesting enough, but when an assistant editor position opened up, she gave writing samples to one of the editors and was virtually hired on the spot. From there she helped develop new titles, became a department editor, and eventually became managing editor of both a newsletter and related website.

Willow's first love, however, was always fantasy novels. When she was five, she received The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe as a Christmas present from grandpa Steve, and received comic books from grandpa Albert. Add to this the fact that her mother produced a monthly magazine out of their home, complete with printing press in the basement, and you can see where her enthusiasm for writing and publishing began.

But something was missing. Non-fiction, while a perfectly valid market, wasn't entirely satisfying to write about. It was at this point that another two things happened: She read Zen in the Art of Writing by Ray Bradbury, which gave her permission to write about what she loves, and she followed her late father's advice. "The world is your oyster," he used to say, and Willow applies that to everything in her life. She figures there's no reason, with a little determination and skill (and "luck"), that she can't achieve what she sets her mind to.

And that's exactly what she's doing now, and continuing to work towards.


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