Atmospheric

Sometimes Lyllian could swear she is living someone else’s past. Most days she is in her small cubicle pecking at her keyboard and doodling on her arm.
But sometimes she is in cold black woods in rags holding precious letters by flickering flame.

Sometimes she is walking the streets of a young city with a woman with flaming red hair.
And other times she is sitting in a house that is not hers with a man, who is not her husband,
cradling a child who is not her child.

Sometimes she is young, dressed in strange clothes, in a meadow of gold weaving ribbons with idle hands,
young and in love.
And still other times she is naked. In a white room. Afraid and imprisoned.

But most times Lyllian feels insignificant, frittering away her time, raising two willful daughters, watching too much television, forever trying to lose those extra pounds and dreaming about becoming a writer.

She cannot tell her husband Michael about her mind jaunts.
He already eyes her dubious choices with amusement-tinged worry.

So why does she sometimes awaken uncertain of who and where she is?
Imprints of a past not her own fading from her mind.

Lyllian’s future cannot rest until she unravels her past.
From the cold black forests of Volgograd Russia, the grit of young New York, to present day Seattle
Lyllian travels in search of answers.

With each new revelation she comes closer to a remarkable story of sacrifice, secrets, and forgiveness.