One of my goals for “The Purple Paragraph” is to introduce new guest writers on my blog. I think it helps strengthen the idea of a writing community and offers new perspective. Besides who wants to listen to me drone on and on. That gets old quick! So for todays blog post I’m happy to be featuring Rylea Shaddix work.

Before we dive into her work lets get to know her a bit:

 Rylea Shaddix is 14 years old and lives in Colorado. She loves reading and creating art. Recently she has been working on the sets for school productions. She loves writing fantasy and sci-fi, and is always working on multiple story plots at a time. She loves all things Harry Potter and can’t wait to write more.
For Rylea’s piece I gave her a lot of creative freedom, I wanted to see what kind of work would naturally flow out of her. I felt that If I gave her some strict prompt I would make it harder to read into her writing style and all I would be left with is some dry lifeless phrases on a page. Thats not what real art is! Writing is meant to leap of the pages at you! And thats exactly what Rylea did. Every word has a purpose and each sentence is filled with color. I think the reason her story gave me so much joy was that you can tell the joy she had writing it. So please enjoy Rylea’s tribute to light and spring.

My Palace

By Rylea Shaddix

I looked up at my tree, its dark entangled branches glowing in the early morning sunlight. The banyan’s leaves almost humming in the soft breeze. Barley a second passed and I was climbing, higher and higher. Over and under I weaved, I swung and leaped scampering up the familiar branches. Eagerly I climbed until I was twenty feet in the air. As I reached the center of the tree, my fort became visible. I snuck through a gap in the branches and entered my own little haven. Rugs lined the wooden boards I had lined around the trunks. Bird feeders hung from all accessible branches casting golden light onto the pillows on the floor. I smiled finally feeling at home. I looked up at the morning sky, and let out a quiet whistle. Almost immediately a small red Summer Tanager came fluttering through the branches landing on my shoulder. I laughed as Hibiscus nipped my ear and then flew to a perch near my pillows singing softly. I smiled and walked over to a small hollow in the tree where I stashed my sketchbooks and journals. I grabbed my favorite sketchbook filled with drawings of fearless heroines, garden pavilions, palaces built in the trees, and colorful birds and creatures roaming the pages. I started to sketch out my world, my story, my escape, my palace. Never stopping to question why or how, but just simply creating, inspired by all I’ve ever seen, heard, or done. Living to live, creating to create, and time froze leaving me in paradise, Hibiscus singing sweetly all the while.