I can't be OCD (the letters aren't in alphabetical order I am CDO)

2012-01-04T13:24:00.002-06:00

Cover for upcoming middle-grade fantasy-adventure

About an 8 year okd Joshua Ball and his journey to find the missing rainbows with two pesky leprechauns as traveling companions

interview 2

2011-11-10T19:46:00.002-06:00

there is no quarantee this interview will ever be used, but I felt it might fit in here.

1) Tell us a bit about your book and where it’s available.

My book THE LAST CHANCE follows the life of Horace Chance from his birth in 1893 up until the 2008 presidential election. The book is available wherever fine eBooks are sold. Of course that means the internet, Kindle, Smashwords, Nook, etc. I am extremely proud my book can be purchased in the privacy of your bathroom or the middle of Yankee Stadium.

2) What was the inspiration for your book?

I am a huge United States history buff. I came upon the idea to write the quintessential historical piece. But I needed a beginning and an end. The controversial 2008 presidential election lent itself as the perfect ending. The beginning was an easy find also. The Wright Brother’s flight at Kill Devil Hill arguably kick started the 20th century. Notice I didn’t say Kitty Hawk. The actual flight took place three miles south of Kitty Hawk. Now I needed a tie in. The inspiration for the tie in came to me through a human interest story out of France and the passing of a 115 year old woman, who had retained her wit and faculties to the end, She could remember activities from her early childhood. Through this human interest story Horace Chance was born. With the birth of Horace my novel began. The 20th century came alive.

2) What was your aim for this book? What did you want readers to think and feel when reading it?

I wanted to show readers that history can be interesting and fun. History in an indelible part of what we were, what we are, and what we can aspire to be. Growing up in the 50’s any thought of a man walking on the moon or personal computers was unthinkable. In the early 1890’s the thought of man flight was absurd.
I want my readers to feel a sense of pride of what we as Americans have evolved into, despite War, economic problems, and the color of one’s skin.

4) If your book was going to be made into a film, who would you cast?

THE LAST CHANCE covers the entire 20th century, the cast would be massive. I can see Teddy Hightower or Bug Hall as young Horace, Johnny Depp as adult Horace, followed by Dustin Hoffman and finally graduating to Earnest Bourgnine.

5) Who would provide the soundtrack to your book?

Music is a very important element to the book. Horace becomes a piano player in an Italian Restaurant in Tin Pan Alley during the 1920’s. He meets, and becomes friends with Irving Berlin, Cole Porter, Jerome Kern, and both of the Gershwin’s
.

6) What is/would be the tagline for your book?

Don’t believe everything you learned in school.

7) Do you have any other books currently available?

Yes, I have a collection of poems, A PIECE OF MY HEART. And a humor book where I sell my soul to the devil in order to get a publishing deal.
GOING. GOING. GONE. SOULED/

8) What will you be working on next?

I am currently working on another historical fiction. The protagonist finds an artifact while fighting in the Crusades. The artifact stops his aging process. CHASING ETERNITY

9) What’s your normal process for writing a novel?

I have no normal process for writing. I write when I feel like it and don’t write when I feel like it.

10) How did you originally get into writing?

I have always told my children bed-time stories, they always told me I should write the stories down. I of course said “someday.” One day my wife said “shut up and write the book.”

11) What do you enjoy most about being a writer?

I have never really thought about how or why I enjoy writing. I suppose it gives my wit and humor an outlet. It can’t be easy being stuck inside my mind day after day.

13) Who or what would you count as your main influence?

That’s easy, my wife and youngest daughter. They put up with my randomness, my wit, my imagination, and they put up with me.

14) What do you enjoy reading? Who is your favorite author?

I don’t know if this is a good answer to this question, but I seldom read anything while in my writing mode. That way my mind is free from outside influence.
I do however like Rick Riordon and Brandon Mull

15) What would be your ideal writer’s haven for creating your novel? Would you have a desk in a quiet cabin somewhere or a laptop on the beach.

I don’t need quiet or calm, I do need to feel secure in my surroundings, you know, the King in his castle syndrome. A calm cabin would drive me up a wall/ There are far too many disrations on the beach. Besides am not a big fan of sand.

2011-10-23T13:15:00.000-05:00

Cover for my upcoming immortal life novel

2011-10-21T14:54:00.002-05:00

OK I changed my cover after just a few days. This one is better.
I would like to thank my freind Jamie Severtson Dougherty for her cover design. If you are looking for a book cover design you can contact her on facebook

2011-10-19T22:42:00.003-05:00

GOING. GOING. GONE. SOULED (WORKING TITLE)
Would it surprise you to learn that sales of souls to the Devil are increasing at an alarming rate. Due to our dismal economy there are more destitute, lost souls that are seeking an easy way out. On the whole they are not seeking fame and fortune as in previous hard times, most simply sell their souls for a promise of their 401K’s safety, or for secure employment. However, selling one’s soul to the Devil is not for the weak of heart and should be left to professionals.
Our story focuses on one lost soul. Ramon Ballard, an unemployed draftsman and wanna-be author. Late one night after his family retires for the evening, and a particularly rough day consisting of one query reject after another, he whispers “I would sell my soul if I could get just one of my books published.” The Devil is always open to fools with impossible requests. Besides he is looking for an author to write his biography, a biography that would show the World a more benevolent, caring devil.
After agreeing to write the biography, Ramon soon learns he is a pawn in the Devil’s evil scheme to take over the world. And the biography he wrote is the last piece of the Devil’s plan. The book, once read will hypnotize the world’s population to believe every word written, making the enslavement of the population easier for our new benevolent, and caring leader. Ramon must now find a way to break his deal with the Devil or go down in history as the person that destroyed the world.

2011-10-11T15:55:00.002-05:00

This is the newest cover for THE LAST CHANCE (for those of you that haven't checked lately) 40 copies sold, it's your turn.

Latest kindle and smashwords product descripyion:

It’s been said that your life ain’t worth a damn unless you touch the souls of those you meet along the way.

Born on a once grand plantation in South Carolina, Horace’s path in life parallels that of a growing nation. Horace has lived a long life, fortunate to have befriended many legendary icons of the twentieth century. His cherished friends left an indelible foot print in what became our Nation’s most productive and turbulent era. They touched the souls of everyone they met, and future generations. Whose soul had Horace touched? Where was his legacy? Would he be remembered long after he was gone? Does it really matter? One’s life isn’t measured by the breaths that you take. It is measured by the amount of times your breath has been taken away. Horace has lived a remarkable life, but I'll let you decide. Count the times his breath has been taken away. Let him touch your soul. Horace’s life has made a difference in all the souls he has met along the way.

The Last Chance is a historical fiction that follows the life of 115 year old Horace Chance from a barren stretch of dunes in North Carolina, where he meets a couple bicycle shop owners from Ohio that teach him all about flight, right on through to his 2008 presidential election.

His life also reflects the influences of lost friends that have brightened his journey and lost loved ones that made his life worth a damn and ultimately left him, The Last Chance

New Cover

2011-10-11T15:02:00.004-05:00

The new cover for my collection of poems. I haven't sold one copy with my old cover. I doubt I will sell any copies with my new cover, but aint she pretty?

what was I thinking?

2011-10-03T20:02:00.001-05:00

I owe the writing community, my potential readers, the world in general, and maybe even God an apology. I overlooked some major writing skills in my zeal and enthusiasm to get my historical fiction, THE LAST CHANCE completed and published. That's right, you heard me, I messed up. I failed to add a book that would sell. What was I thinking? I completely forgot to add a vampire, zombie, dragon, Minotaur, unicorn, or knife wielding serial killer with a bad attitude.

I should have jumped to the chance to make my protagonist a crime solving detective with a bad marriage. Maybe he could have been a spy, pathologist, weird scientist with a God complex, or the son of a Greek God. I wasn't thinking I am truly sorry for dropping the ball. My fault.

At the very least I could have made him a sex-craved maniac and added great juicy explicit scenes spattered among the pages of the book. The truth is I know very little about sex-craved maniacs and would be too embarrassed to do the research. My wife probably wouldn't allow me to do the research anyway.

So I apologize for leaving too many of the sure-fire topics for success.

If you are looking for vampire spies, zombie detectives, a Minotaur that cheats on his wife, a unicorn that solves crimes ala CSI Fantasyland, or a super hero knife wielding maniac, I wouldn't waste my time reading this book.

If you are looking for sex, this is not the book for you.

However, if you are looking for a pleasant, clean Historical Fiction that makes you laugh, and tugs at your heart-strings, you might like THE LAST CHANCE. You might be surprised that a book hastily written without the main selling points of today's topics might be enjoyable.

Again I apologize for my zeal, please forgive me.

September 18. 2011

2011-09-18T16:26:00.000-05:00

I was surfing the internet today and came upon this obituary. I generally don't stop and read obituaries, but this on intrigued me. It was posted in four newspapers simultaneously. It appeared in The New York times, The L.A. Times, The Washington Post and The Charleston Post and Courier.
Horace Chance June 28, 1893 to November 3, 2008.
Horace was born in a once grand Southern Plantation in Charleston, South Carolina. As a young boy his moved to Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, where he met two bicycle shop owners from Ohio with the idea of flight. He was standing on that cold dune, that fateful day in December of 1903. His family soon moved to Washington D. C. where he excelled in piano and the National pastime, Baseball. While in the Nation's Capital, Horace became friends with what the press called "THE WHITE HOUSE GANG." He knew them as President Roosevelt's children. He became good friends with the President and his son Quentin. It was while playing amateur baseball in Washington D.C. that he was scouted and signed to the Washington Senators. He played two years with the Senators before being traded to the Boston Red Sox, where he met a young left-handed pitcher named George Herman Ruth, they became life-long friends. Horace quit baseball to join the army during World War One. The only action he saw was in a hospital tent, recovering from food poisoning. After the war Horace moved to New York to attend NYU, where he met his first love of his life. Angela and Horace married on September 30. 1919. After graduating Horace was employed as a piano player at one of New York's finest Italian Restaurants. The restaurant, located in Tin Pan Alley was frequented by the likes of Irving Berlin, Cole Porter, Jerome Kern, and the Gershwin's'. All of which became friends of Horace. Horace and his daughter Marie performed on a small radio show towards the end of the 1930's and soon they were the talk of the nation, and moved to Hollywood just prior to the start of World War Two. In his later years Horace became a firm believer in Civil Rights. One of his proudest moments was when Sammy Davis Jr. introduced Horace to Martin Luther King Jar in Washington DC. Just before King delivered his famous "I have a dream" speech.
Horace is preceded in death by Angela, his first wife, Susan, his second wife, his son Thomas Wilbur Chance who died December 7, 1941, his daughter Marie Chance Johnson. One grandson Robert Johnson who valiantly lost his life fighting for his country in Viet Nam. One granddaughter Angle Johnson and one great-granddaughter Emily Chance, who was never late for work at an Insurance office in Tower 2. He was also proceeded in death my numerous friends that brightened his life along the way.
Graveside services to be held in New York City at 2:00 PM. He will be laid to rest near the loves of his life. Angela and Susan, his wife's and the memorial head stone for Emily.
Memorial Services will be held simultaneously at Forest Lawn. Los Angeles, Arlington Washington D.C. and Golden Memories Nursing Home Charleston South Carolina
Donations to the Susan Radstone Chance Alzheimer Foundation. Thomas Chance Foundation that helps families of World War II veterans, and the Robert Johnson foundation that helps vets find jobs and shelter. Marie’s Kids in New York City that helps underprivileged children learn how to play the piano or are in need of vocal training. The Angela foundation helps victims of crime. Angie’s house in Dallas, Texas is a home for unwed mothers and one of the premier outreach programs for drug addicts. Emily. The Emily Scholarship is awarded to students that would otherwise be unable to attend college. All of these were dear to his heart.
*****
Horace Chance became my hero; he should be the hero of each and every one of us.
It has been said that a man’s life is not measured by breaths taken. But by the moments his breath is taken away. If this is the case then surely Horace Chance can be measured a great man
Please read THE LAST CHANCE by Ramon Ballard, it will make you proud to be an American.

September 15,

2011-09-15T23:36:00.002-05:00

There are no vampires, wizards, spies, or paranormal ghosts in THE LAST CHANCE
How about a snipit of his life. Horace was in the audience during Elvis' first appearance on the Ed Sullivan show. However, neither Elvis or Ed Sullivan were present at the time. Ed was home, he had been in a car accident earlier in the week. Elvis was filmed in LA, not on the stage. Charles Laughton, of Mutiny on the Bounty was guest host. pre-monkee Davey Jones, who was playing Oliver on Broadway was on stage.

There are surprise facts that make reading THE LAST CHANCE exciting, and
compelling reading. Let the 20th Century unfold before your eyes. Laugh, and cry. Find out why he is the last Chance.

I've got cob-webbed links lying in shambles througout my updated status', find one and it will magically transport you to one of mu hourly shuttles to the world of Smashwords or the Kingdom of Kindle Books

Don't make me play the "ITS MY BIRTHDAY CARD" or use the force on you "THESE ARE NOT THE VAMPIRE BOOKS YOU ARE LOOKING FOR>>YOU WOULD RATHER HAVE A HISTORICAL FICTION>"

If you look closely you can find links to THE LAST CHANCE among my ruins that will also drop you off at your nearest Barnes and Noble. Look in every NOOK and cranny

CHASING ETERNITY

2011-09-13T22:45:00.002-05:00

Here is ny fisrt two chapters of my new novel, it is only a rough draft. Let me know what you think.

Chapter One Washington D.C. April 16, 1865

Colin Harcourt sat on the ornate wrought iron bench outside the Willard Hotel, on the corner of 15th Street NW and Alexander Hamilton Plaza. He paid little or no attention to his surroundings or the commotion and sorrow that had ensued from the events of the previous night. He knew an actor with Southern ties had assassinated the President, but his mind was elsewhere.
Across the street soldiers patrolled, rifles ready in case of rioting, faces worn with distraught and pain. A steady stream of officers and members of Congress bearing black armbands in honor of their mourning entered the Treasury Building. Colin watched blankly assuming those were the people to keep the country’s economy together after last night’s national tragedy, a tragedy less significant to Colin than his own personal tragedy of the previous day. A picket of soldiers surrounded the large white house a few yards to his right. No doubt, the scene within the house, the home of the President, was somber. His mind wandered back to 1801 when the beautiful home first became occupied by President Adams and his wife Abigail before it had even been completely constructed. Since then, every President had occupied that home, including the ill-fated President Lincoln.
Mourning sobs drifted from the park to his left, a common sound today. An incomplete obelisk towered a few feet above the roof tops. Once finished the obelisk would become a memorial for the nation’s first President, a person Colin had known and respected. The construction of the memorial had begun in 1848, seventeen years ago, but had not been completed. The work had been halted so men could enlist in the Union Army and preserve the union heroically beloved of the nation’s first President. However, it was widely known that some of those workers chose to enlist in the Confederacy. At this chaotic time in history, few knew when work on the monument would resume.
The previously popular but undefiled Ford’s Theater stood three blocks directly behind him. From this moment on the theatre would forever be remembered as the birthplace of one of the most infamous tragedies in American History.
Colin loved this city and had lived here off and on for the past sixty-three years. He had found true love here. His children were born here. He felt a strong sentimental attachment to the city. On any other day, he too would mourn the loss of his beloved President, just not today.
Water welled up in his eyes once again and overflowed, tumbling down his cheeks, sobs soon followed. A smartly dressed man bearing the uniform of a Union general briskly crossed the street, turned and walked past Colin. Passing the bench, the stranger slowed, turned his head around and watched the weeping man, then continued on his way a few more steps. He stopped, turned around, and handing a clean handkerchief to the man on the bench he said, “There, there. It isn’t all that bad. Yes, we lost a great man, probably one of the greatest, but I am confident his dreams for this country will not be abandoned; the Union will survive this catastrophe. That is if I have anything to do about it. I assure you I will make sure that Southern Democrat and charlatan Andrew Johnson does nothing to taint the efforts of our beloved Abe.”
Colin wiped his eyes, stifled his sobs, and handed the wet handkerchief back to the stranger. The stranger smiled and said, “You may keep it, I have many more.”
Colin folded the handkerchief, noticed the monogram USG on the corner, and placed it in his pocket. “Thank you,” he said, “And I agree we lost a great man yesterday but that is not what instigated my tears.
Surprised, the stranger asked, “If I may be bold, Sir, What event has occasioned this remorsefulness?”
“You wouldn’t believe me, Sir,” Colin said shifting on the bench.
“Try me; I have seen many things in the last few years.”
“I buried my wife of sixty years yesterday, Sir,” said Colin weakly.
The stranger’s eyes widened as he tempered the laughter which tickled in his thoughts at the idea of this young man having been married for even ten years, let alone sixty. “I’m sure you meant to say your mother?”
“I am somewhat older than I appear. I meant what I said. I buried my wife, a woman I adored, a woman I lived and breathed for, a woman who could not be replaced by any woman anywhere on this earth or anywhere in time. This I know for a fact. Now, if you don’t mind, I would rather be alone,” he said as the sobs threatened to overtake him once again.
The stranger turned away and took several steps before again turning back to the man on the bench, his sense of intrigue sparked. “I am sorry, please accept my apology,” the stranger said as he sat down next to Colin, “You must realize it is hard to believe a man that looks as young…”
Colin reached inside his shirt and produced a strange object on a chain. The chain had seen better days and looked ancient.
“What is that?” the stranger asked.
“That, Sir,” said Colin with despair “Is both my blessing and my curse.”
“It looks like some kind of bug attached to a chain.”
“Yes, the ancient Egyptians called them scarabs. This scarab and I go back a very long time. It is because of this wretched object that I am here today. It is why I was here sixty years ago, and sixty years before that.”
The stranger eyed the man with the bug necklace warily, “Do continue. Oh, where are my manners? General U.S. Grant here, you may call me Sam. Please continue.”
“My name is Colin, Colin Harcourt. Are you sure you have the time General? “
“I will make the time. Please continue Colin.”
Colin cleared his throat, “I was born in Kent County, England the 20th of March in the year of our Lord, 1066. My mother called me a miracle because I was born the day Haley’s Comet graced our English Sky and I was only the 5th of 16 children to survive. My father looked upon me as another hungry mouth to feed. My family was dirt poor but at least we owned a small strip of land. We produced our own food, raised a few pigs, sheep and chickens- at least enough to be self-sufficient. Unfortunately, that was the year the Duke of Normandy, William the Conqueror carved up England. Our land became his land which he gave to the newly appointed Earl of Kent Odo of Bayeax, his half-brother. We went from being poor to being peasants almost overnight. Shall I continue?”
The General thought a moment. Colin’s story was unbelievable, so unbelievable it could only be true yet, the country was in mourning. He decided with all the confusion today, he would not be missed. Mary Lincoln could wait. “Please, go on.”
***
Ten year old Colin lay on his straw bed, dim sunlight trickled through the thatched roof and the lingering smoke from the dwindling fire. A cold winter wind chilled him, the wattle daubed walls of the wood structure no match for the winter wind, his thread bare blanket no help at all. Pigs snorted as they slept under the lone table in the house. The few chickens remaining clucked as they searched the frigid floor for meager crumbs.
Colin’s one remaining brother lay motionless a few feet away. He listened for any sign of life, a slight breath, a movement, anything; but there was nothing. Colin feared the worst. Colin, the youngest was only the fifth child his mother bore to survive childbirth, his two eldest brothers left a few months after his birth to defend London against the armies of William the Conqueror. Both were disappointed that Kent signed a treaty with the French conqueror without a fight. They were determined to keep England free from the Duke of Normandy. London fell soon after and the brothers were never seen again. His father, a heartless, cold man refused to mention their names again. His mother had held silent vigils in hopes they would return. Another brother died after a mule kicked him in his head. The barber drilled a hole in the skull, the usual cure but his brother died anyway. His father refused to pay the fee to the Church so the brother was cremated a few yards from the family’s front door.
“Father, is Mother all right?” inquired the young boy. There was no answer. “Father, I fear the worst for John.” There was still no answer.
Two weeks earlier his brother and his mother had broken out with sores around their mouths. Two days later the rash appeared, followed by raging fevers, body aches, headaches and chills. Bloodletting did little to ease the pain or the symptoms. The clergy responded with a messenger- they were too busy to come to the aid. However, for a small fee, they would send an underling to perform last rites.
It still caused great ire when it came time to pay the Earl of Kent each month. Colin’s father owned his own property up until William’s conquest. Now he was required to pay a percentage of his meager holdings to William’s half brother, the Earl of Kent. In return, the Earl of Kent was required to keep his vassals safe. The safety seldom arrived in time.
Father did not give up the land. He decided to keep it and pay the rent on the Earl’s land outside the limits of Canterbury. He also refused to add a surname which had become the fashion after the recent Norman Conquest. If Ailwin son of Philip was good enough for his Saxon father; it was good enough for him.
Colin wrapped his thin blanket around his shoulders and ventured into the cold. The putrid smell of animals and human waste made him gag. You would think he would be used to the smell, the animals and the waste would remain indoors until the spring thaw as they had done every winter of his young life.
“Colin, come help and be fast about it.” His father’s gruff voice came from behind the rough wooden door. “Stir your brother. If he will not stir, then I will stir him.”
Colin opened the door to a sight which would haunt his dreams for an extensive lifetime, the flames of a large fire danced in the wind and licked and consumed the thin, tattered body of his mother. Without turning his father said, “Your brother would not stir? I feared that. Watch the fire; keep it from spreading while I go prepare your brother.” Tears welled in Colin’s eyes. His father returned with the limp body of his last remaining brother. “Go take care of our morning meal, Colin. There is nothing you can do now; the small pox has taken their souls.” Colin stood in disbelief as his father piled his brother into the fire. “We do not have the fees to give them a proper burial thanks to the Earl of Kent and his property rent.” His father spat onto the ground.”Go, hurry boy and make our meal. I have wood to chop and you have pigs that need tending.”
The boy remained staring at the fire. He jumped and ran back into the house when his father shouted, “Boy, move when I tell you to move.”

Chapter Two- Canterbury- early September 1096

General Grant’s face curled up in disgust, “Please tell me that was not the custom. The thought borders on barbarianism.”
“No, General; it was not customary to bury loved ones in such a manner. Burial of loved ones was a somber and Christian rite. That is, if you had the money to pay for a proper burial. Our annual payment of crops and livestock were paid on time leaving us little in the way of comfort to last until the next harvest. The ground was frozen. We could not bury them ourselves; they had to be stored until spring thaw. We didn’t have the money to pay for the church storage fees; John and Mother would remain bundled in the rear of our house for 4 months leaving their bodies subject to defilement from the wild animals in nearby forests. At the time I was horrified. I would have preferred to starve and pay the church fees but now that I’m older, I realize Father did what he thought was best.”
“An amazing story, a horrifying story, but I suspect a common one, perhaps even in modern times. The winters are harsh here as well, especially along the frontiers.” The General sat in thought for a moment. “But, I have to admit. The most interesting part of the story is the part about the scarab object and how it has allowed you to live for eight-hundred years.”
“That story, General, cannot be told without the beginning. If you have previous commitments you will have to be satisfied with the fact that it is true.”
“No, I have no place I would rather be. This…” and he swept his arm wide across the dreary city in mourning, “will be here when your story is told and you might find I’m a bit of an historical enthusiast myself.”
“Very well, William the Conqueror died early morning September 9th, 1087…”
“Yes, I studied William at West Point. It was said he died from an injury he acquired during his attempt to capture a small town in France. I believe heat and fatigue caused him to slump forward and impale himself on his saddle pommel.”
“You know more than I, Sir, all we were told was that he died in France. I’m afraid the irony of the truth may not have been shared with his people for fear it would dishearten them. In actuality, I believe they would have been amused and would have felt justified. He gave away a fortune to the Church and the poor in an attempt to save his soul. To think he thought a few trinkets would purge his cruelty to his subjects and pave the way for forgiveness.”
“I was taught he was a great leader. Nothing was ever mentioned about cruelty to his subjects.”
“Believe what you will, you were not there.” Colin said with conviction. “My father died in August of that year, penniless thanks to the Domesday Book. He was given a paupers plot in the churchyard in Canterbury.”
“Wait, the Doomsday Book?” asked Grant.
“The Domesday Book,” Colin Corrected. “In 1095 William decided he needed to know his exact worth. He feared his vassals were not paying their proper taxes so he sent men to all shires, villages, and cities with direct orders to find out all livestock and land in the kingdom. Whatever was written in the book was deemed to be law. The surveyors of the book determined that the Earl of Kent owed taxes and as you remember, William had given our land to the Earl of Kent. After all of our hard work to try to pay our tribute when due and live on the land which had been our own, the Earl chose my father’s land to be seized as payment for those taxes and we were evicted. As further insult, we were taken on by the Earl as servants and forced to work his land as little more than slaves. I was lucky. I worked as a stable boy and was given a small loft in the barn to sleep at night. My father worked in the fields, sleeping in the fields and scrounging for scraps of food. He was, however, allowed to stay in my loft during harsh weather.”
“I am so sorry Colin; your hardship must have been hard to endure.”
“Like I said, I was lucky. I enjoyed working with the horses and I had a roof over my head. But my father, he was never the same. I believe the small scrap of land he owned and worked gave him just enough pride to keep him going year after year and he never recovered from losing it. He worked the fields until he was too frail and could work no longer. A friend came to me when he collapsed in the fields and helped me carry him into the stable and I cared for him until he took his last breath.”
“I can’t imagine how hard that must have been,” Grant said as he patted Colin on the shoulder.
“It was common, Sir. Soon after William’s death, the Earl was thrown into prison and that suited me just fine. I was not the only one celebrating both events.”
“Why was he thrown into prison?”
“William had decreed his son William Rufus would succeed him on the throne but Robert, the eldest son argued the throne was rightfully his. The Earl of Kent supported him and William Rufus had him thrown into prison. A small battle ensued between the brothers. William Rufus ascended to the throne and Robert was given the Duchy of Normandy at which time the Earl of Kent was banished to Normandy where he became the Duke of Normandy’s right hand consultant. “
“I am surprised the new King allowed him to leave his prison.”
“If he hadn’t been banished to Normandy, my tale would be quite different.”
“Please continue, Colin.”
***
Thirty year old Colin lay in his loft in the manor’s barn. Shards of grey sunlight crept through the roof and open door. On any other day, he would be up performing his tasks around the manor before sunrise but today was Sunday and no one worked on the Sabbath day. A four hour church service was required, but that was hours away.
Unashamed of his nakedness, he turned his head and looked at the golden haired girl sleeping peacefully at his side. She was the baker’s daughter and thus above his station. There would be harsh consequences if they were caught together. He pushed her hair gently out of her eyes, her lips turned up in the slightest smile as she snuggled closer to him. After last night he could care less. When she smiled at him her green eyes sparkled, his heart skipped a beat. Her long blonde hair flowed half way down her back like a river of gold sparkling in the sunlight when she permitted it to be free, which was only for him. Her breasts were smaller than most of his conquests and burrowed softly into his side while she lay in the crook of his arm while one leg was bent over his stomach. She could have been called beautiful but her nose was not just a little too large for her face. She had been a willing participant in the carnal sin of the night even though she was at least fifteen years younger than him. Her father would not be pleased of the loss of her maiden hood, she would not bring as much dowry so sullied. She however, was not excited about her father’s choice of husbands basing his decision on dowry and status rather than rakishly devastating good looks like Colin. His passion stirred inside him, sending urgent sensations up and down his body. He hoped the young girl would be a willing participant again for some early morning dalliances. A rustle on the ladder sent all thoughts of repeating last night’s sinning from his mind; someone was coming up the ladder leaving no time to cover or to hide the girl. Colin said a quick prayer hoping it was not his task master with chores for the morning or the baker looking for his daughter.
A head popped up above the ladder and then just as quickly popped down again.
The voice of young Herlewin, the clergy’s boy, squeaked, “Colin you will end up in Hell if you are not careful.”
Colin laughed out loud, “My dear friend. I am already in hell; you can’t deny me some fun while I visit.” The young girl opened her eyes at the sound of voices and panicked. The clothes were strewn about the loft as if thrown in wild abandon, she scrambled to grab the first clothing she could find which happened to be Colin’s pants and covered herself, her cheeks bright red.
“Is that Margery, the baker’s daughter?” asked the boy.
The girl squealed.
“Never you mind who I bed. If I find that you have been spying at me, I will cut off your member. Now, state your business so I might relax a little while with my... er... friend here before I attend services and beg for my redemption.”
“If that is the Bakers daughter, you will be going to hell without a head on your shoulder.”
“EEEEEEk”
Colin turned to the girl and kissed her passionately, she swooned beneath his advances. He turned to the ladder again, “State your business and be off with you,” he bellowed as he gently stroked Margery’s slightly covered breast, fingering the nipple as the girl giggled.
“His Eminency wishes a conference with you, Colin, and he wishes it now. For God’s sake Colin, get dressed,” he said as he popped his head into the loft. “Hello Margery, how are your parents?”
Embarrassed, the nearly naked girl answered Herlewin, “Well, thank you. And how is His Eminency?” Herlewin was an orphan and had pledged his life to the church.
Colin threw straw in Herlewin’s face, “Have the decency to look away boy as you climb down the ladder. Trust me; you had better forget what you have seen here today. Do not soil my young friend’s reputation, am I clear?”
“Colin, I would never betray you. You are my only friend. See you in church, Margery,” said the boy as he climbed down the ladder.
Turning to Margery, Colin frowned and said, “I am sorry, my dear, but it seems duty calls. Maybe we could continue on our journey later tonight?”
Margery blushed as she dressed. “It is the Sabbath; I can’t possibly get away on the Sabbath.”
“Tomorrow night?” Colin pleaded.
“We shall see. After all, I do have a reputation to uphold,” she said with a wry smile. “My father would have this,” she said as she grabbed his member, “if he were to find out about us.” She kissed him firmly and started down the ladder. “I will try to get away soon. And next time, keep that young scamp on a leash.”
Colin smiled content for the first time in a long while. He thought to himself that he might actually be in love this time. He knew the future of this love would never be more than trysts in his loft for he was a lowly stable hand while she was the daughter of a well known baker, steps, no leaps above his feudal stationing. Perhaps even after she was wedded…
“Your audience with His Eminency, you ninny,” Margery yelled as she reached the floor below.
The early morning dew rose from the green yards like cloudless mists on this bright September day. The year was 1096. Colin wondered what he had done so wrong to require an audience with the Archbishop of Canterbury, on the Sabbath no less. His occasional conquest with Margery was still a secret, he was sure of that. He doubted his dalliances with the Miller’s daughter or the Potter’s daughter was common knowledge. However, the night of passion with the Weaver’s daughter had been complicated; the young girl became great with child. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on your point of view, the girl became very sick and passed away without her pregnancy becoming common knowledge.
Never-the-less, being summoned to the Archbishop was an event not to be denied. Colin searched his mind for any reason, was he to be reprimanded? He had missed several worship services in the last few months. Was that so great a sin? Nothing else came to mind. Maybe Herlewin was right, Colin was about to be banished to hell.

August 14, 2011

2011-08-14T22:43:00.004-05:00

Many of you have enjoyed my poems, which I have scattered among the ruins of this blog.

Friends have been hounding me for years to publish my poems, I declined because they were too personal.

Just the other day I got another request to publish. So many years have passed and most wounds have healed, after many attempts, and utter failures I found and married my one true love. I am now ready to share my joy and pain.

I doubt I will sell more than a few copies, but those that purchase a copy will also be buying a small piece of my heart.

You can google me for links.......Ramon Ballard

I'm going to repost one of the poems that gets the most requsts:

May your life be full of sunshine,
Even when your skies are gray.
May you find the strength to
go on when you think you've
lost your way.
May the smiles you get from
others be the warm fulfilling kind
May your dreams that you are
dreaming be easier to find.
When you look into your past
may you look without regret
of people, places or things
you would be better to forget.
May you find your happiness
as you pass on through the years
But remember you receive
wisdom when lessons are learned
from your tears.
May the love you find in your
life be the kind you know will last
the kind of love that will free
your heart from the pain of the past.
When it becomes time to look
into that final bright light.
May you look secure in the
knowledge you have loved
and loved right.

July 20, 2011

2011-07-20T16:01:00.002-05:00

I thought I would re-post one of my first blogs, in hopes that it might change my mind. They say patience is a virtue, and as I have limited patience, I have little virtue. When I published THE LAST CHANCE, I thought the hard part was over. Wrong. After I shamelessly self promoted until I myself am tired of reading my words< I thought the hard part was over. Wrong. I am told that it will take time, but as I said I am impatient. My 3 brothers and 1 sister haven't bought a copy of my book, although they promised. My best friend of 40 years has not bought a copy, although she promised. If I can't sell to people that I have known most of my life, how can I expect strangers to believe in me?

I re-posted because I have almost talked me into quiting, again. In the past there have been one or two of my followers slap some sense into me. I need someone to tell me to sit down, this takes time.

I grew up being invisible to all but a very few of my Friends. It is almost as if i invented shy, if I didn't invent it I surely perfected it. I made up fantasy tales in my mind, mostly to compensate for my shyness.As time went by, my tales (to myself, and a few of my friends) became more vivid, while my shyness increased (if that is possible).When I finally married (I was 33 the first time) and we had children I would tell our children made-up bedtime stories, which they enjoyed. My son would tell me I should write them down, which i never did. As the children got older, and the marriage came to an end, I stopped telling the bed time stories. I reverted back to telling them to my number one fan (myself). Many years passed, another marriage failed, and I was still making up fantasy realms and stories for my number one fan (still myself).When I met my current (and greatest) wife, her daughter was 11 at the time, so I started telling her my fantasy stories. My wife and daughter both told me I should write them down, to which I said "Someday, I just might do that"Well life got in the way. We were living in San Diego, and let me tell you that great weather comes with a price, mainly fast living and high costs. Not to mention fires (yes we were evacuated during the 2003 wild fires in San Diego, the fire actually came within a few hundred feet of our house) Finally we had enough of "big city" living, I got a job in a small (actually 3rd largest city in Missouri) town, life slowed down to a comfortable pace. One day we were riding in the car, headed for Branson, and I mentioned I might just start writing a children's book, to which my amazing wife said "Ya I have heard that before, why don't you shut up and do it?"I don't write for the money, I write because I love it.}

Yup, I wrote that. I keep looking back at that post, and I think it is Corney, out of place and somewhat pathetic. I thought that until I read this.

"........unpopular through out my schooldays, I had the lonely child's habit of making up stories and holding conversations with imaginary persons...."
----- George Orwell -----

George reminded me of me, except I am not famous, and I survived 1984.

Rereading my Corney, out of place, somewhat pathetic post, again gave me an epiphany. No matter how Corney this post happened to be, there was no way of denying the truth of that post.

Now that I have mastered the science of time travel, I need to fast forward to September 1, 2008. Place "American Idol" Query Tracker Forum.

{I ask myself, am I the singer from American Idol that just can't sing? You know the ones, the ones that think they are sooooo good, but when they open their mouths crap comes out.They have no idea they can't sing. They are shocked when Randy or Simon tell them how pathetic they are. They actually thought they were the best singer in the world. Every viewer and the judges knew otherwise.Am I the terrible singer, and are the literary agents Randy and Simon?}

Yup I wrote that one too, but it did generate some marvelous responses.

"Can I not write?"
"If you truly love what you do"
"Can you walk away?"
"I have to write."

are a paraphrases of a few of the responses, and on September 1 my answers to theses responses would have been.

"No,I don't need to write."
"Yes, I do love what I do"
"Yes I can walk away, in a heart beat"
"I do not now, or will I ever need to write"

Fast forward to the time of my unfortunate, flattened by the reality driven steam-roller accident.

Being ran over by reality leaves one heck of a side-affect, namely clear vision. I know now why I write.

Years of living in oblivion and invisibility has its advantages, it defined who and what I am.

I was not born to write. My childhood set me on the path to writing. My life led me down that path. I have not been able to leave that path, no matter how hard I have tried.

My journey down that path came to an end August 28, 2007, when I came face to face with the only outcome my childhood would allow. There I was face to face with myself, a writer. Yes me, a writer, forged with years of failure, success, good times and bad times.

I had no choice. I had to write. It is what my childhood chose for me.

"The only reason for being a writer is that you just can't help it"
---Leon Rotsen---

Writing is not a job. It's not a hobby. It's a drive, a journey. It's something within us that needs to be released.

My journey down the path ended abruptly, but I am now on my way on a new path. I can't give up. I need to write, I love writing, I can never walk away from writing.

I am not the person that can't sing on American Idol. (new ending. I am not the person that can't sing, I might be the one that got tired of waiting in the crowd and went home, but by damn I can sing)

shamefull self promotion

2011-07-11T15:09:00.002-05:00

What more could history buffs ask for? If you like baseball, the early Washington Senators, Boston Red Sox, New York Yankees, Walter Johnson, Ty Cobb, Babe Ruth, Shoeless Joe Jackson, Lou Gehrig, Mickey Mantle are there. If you like Presidents, Teddy Roosevelt, William Howard Taft, Woodrow Wilson, Coolidge, Hoover, FDR, Truman, JFK, Nixon, Carter, Reagan, Bush, and Obama are there. If you like music, Joplin, Berlin, Gershwin, Jerome Kern, Cole Porter, and Elvis are there. If you like events, Kitty Hawk, Louisiana Purchase Exposition, World War I, The Depression, The Hindenburg, War Of The Worlds, The Attack on Pearl Harbor, The fear of communism in the 50's, The Space Race, School desegregation in Little Rock, Martin Luther's " I have a dream," speech are there. If you love 20th century history, THE LAST CHANCE by Ramon Ballard (me) is a must have for your collection.

I am currently in contact with Marie Labeau, the Vulcan witch lady. She has placed some sort of spell on this thread. I am sorry it has come to this, but for the next week or so, when you read the word "eavesdrop" you will have the sudden urge to buy my book. I have, in order to ease my mind, added a few reasons why you might love the book.

I am off to Tatooie, where Master Yoda is going to give me a few pointers on the use of the Force for monetary gain. "you will buy my book, these are not the droids you are looking for."

Until next time, my little storm troopers.

Read well, love well, stay well, and mercy buy my stupid book already.

raballard, lackluster author

interview

2011-07-07T14:11:00.009-05:00

Since I am a professional writer, I thought that I would grant my very first interview. I called various television stations and offered them the chance to be the first to interview me. To my surprise they had never heard of me. Next I contacted the newspapers within a 600 mile radius of me. There was no luck, but on a positive note I now subscribe to thousands of local newspapers. I contacted every university, college, technical college in the continental United States, including Claire’s Beauty College/Dry cleaners in Mouse Jaw. Idaho. I have now made it impossible for any person I know, will know, or hope to know will no longer have an opportunity for a higher education.
I then had a major epiphany, yes. Sum1special, cutiepie,dotg, rharris, PAPatty, ladyinred1618, suzieq,sweetgarf, sjgotbingo, diamondlil63and the rest of my Bingo Hall cronies, I do get an occasional epiphany, despite my lame chat. Where was I? Oh, ya my epiphany. I figured that as my new shiny novel was a Historical thingy, maybe the best people to interview me should be our public school students. I might even be able to mold a few young minds, or become an inspirational role model. Life lesson number 2987, not all epiphanies are good epiphanies. My grandchildren, and their grandchildren will now have to commute to another state or country in order to get their high school diploma.
A secondary epiphany popped into my mind. How hard can it be to interview myself? I’m a relatively smart person, with occasional brilliance. So, I am going to do just that, interview myself.

My first guest is a well known author, OK well known in his own home, Ramon Ballard. Welcome to my blog Ramon. May I call you Ramon?

RB---Thank you, yes you may call me Ramon.

raballard… Let’s get started. My first question is. Are there aliens in the inner office feeding you answers to my questions to you telepathically?

RB----First let me say how thrilled I am to be here today. I was unaware that you were following my lackluster career.

raballard… Just answer the question.

RB---I have never thought about that possibility. However, I am certain aliens have more important fish to fry. You know politicians, clergy, jurors, certain blog writers. I am not on too many alien watch lists.

raballard… very well, if that’s your doubtful story. Next question. Why are manhole covers round?

RB---I suppose that round covers are more appealing to the eyes? I really don’t know. I don’t write about manhole covers

raballard… Very well. Shall we continue? How many gas stations would you say there are in the United States?

RB---What? Maybe a few thousand. Where are you going with this line of questioning?

raballard… How many interviews have you been in charge of Mr. Ballard? Let’s leave the questioning to the professionals shall we. If aliens landed in front of you and, in exchange for anything you desire, offered you any position on their planet, what would you want

RB---I wouldn’t want to be offered a position by alien attackers. Are we going to talk about my book?

raballard… Patience, this must be your first interview. If you were a salad, what kind of dressing would you have?

RB---Thousand Island. That’s a ridiculous question. Ask me about THE LAST CHANCE.

raballard… Who do you like best, your mom or dad?

RB---You know mom passed. Are you completely crazy?

raballard…In a small room you have a refrigerator, if you left the door of the 'fridge open would the temp in the room fall or would the temp in the 'fridge rise? Why?

RB---That’s it, I’m out of here. You have not asked one question about how or why I wrote THE LAST CHANCE. You have not asked about my experience while seeking publication.

raballard…What makes you angry? Did Ramon leave? Why? Well there you have it, the first interview of astronaut Ramon Ballard. What……..sorry Author Ramon Ballard, I suppose he wrote some book. Join us next time when I interview the president of the raballard fan club, Ramon Ballard.

links

2011-07-02T16:43:00.006-05:00

I have added links to Kindle and smashwords, I hope it helps.

They are to the right, below my followers,

By the way feel free to follow me

Exciting News

2011-07-01T11:51:00.001-05:00

THE LAST CHANCE
Ebook Price: $4.99 USD. 105000 words. Fiction by Ramon Ballard on June 29, 2011

As a young man, Horace learned blacks were inferior to whites in every way, an assumption he never questioned until the day he heard Scott Joplin, a player not allowed to share a stage with white musicians. From that moment, Horace travels through history, surviving the depression, the death of his wife, World War II, meeting the finest men and women US history has to offer, gleaning from each of.

I just published my book "THE LAST CHANCE"

it is available at Kindle Book Store and Smashwords. You can also google Ramon Ballard to find it.

If you are interested in American History of the twentieth century, this is the book you want to read. It is a good read, trust me.

Ramon Ballard

Feel free to leave a review here, and on Kindle or Smashmouth

June 17, 2011

2011-06-18T15:03:00.000-05:00

Let me end by introducing me, any author needs a little chaos in their life. The foolish failures and accidental triumphs in my life define who I am.

I grew up invisible in Salt Lake City, Utah. Invisibility has definite advantages, especially when combined with a vivid imagination. I spent my youth on a raft floating down the Mississippi with my friends Tom, Huck, and Jim. I stood next to George and his rag-tag troops in Valley Forge. I chased windmills with Don Quixote. I spent summers in Europe, winters in Alaska. Anywhere my imagination could take me. I created magical, fantasy worlds with magical inhabitants.

Time does not stand still. Fantasy worlds evolve into mundane, everyday life. As I grew older my whimsical travels to far off places diminished and my invisibility slowly faded into visibility. All foolish realms were forgotten, pushed into the furthest regions of my mind. I grew up, but a small part of my mind, the part stuffed to overflowing with imaginary worlds, refused to get older. I must have a Peter Pan soul.

Years passed. One failed marriage became two. (Including one wife with multiple personalities, scary huh?)
I found and married my one true love and began my happily ever after. Happiness has certain side effects, my creativity yearned to shine. The imaginary world refused to be silenced; they demanded to be heard.
OK now, let’s read the last four words together. They will play a big part at the end of this short blog.
I am coming up on the fourth anniversary of when I started writing my first seldom to be read novel. The novel is about a thirteen year old girl whose mother is kidnapped. It’s a great story It has been well received by every beta reader who has read it. At first the novel had 107,000 words, but I was told that is too many words for a first tine author. My beta readers, not being professional writers apparently didn’t know, or could care less that I had too many words, they loved it. I revised my great story, revised it again, and then again for good measure. The story was now similar to my original story. To my surprise my beta readers still loved my story. Unfortunately literary agents have not shared the same enthusiasm as my common folk readers. I am to the point in believing that in order to become an agent you need to have all common folk tendencies vacuumed out of your senses.
I am a bit dense at times. I never let sleeping dogs lie, I have been known to run with scissors and count my chickens before they hatch. I should have taken the hint. My novel was not literary worthy, no matter who loved it. I should have let sleeping novels lie. I started counting my novels before they hatched. Not me, I figured if I wrote another novel that agents would beat a path to my door. I wrote another novel, this time it was a historical fiction spanning the twentieth century. It was another great story. My beta readers loved the story. Some read it more than once. I was excited again. Literary Agents would stand in line to represent me. I was sure I would sell this book. And the book would coat-tail my original story into worldwide fame as a bonus. Wrong, Once again my beta readers don’t know a good book from a hole in the ground. My queried Literary Agents have shown me the error of my ways. My book, books, etc, are crap, no matter what my beta readers say.
I’ve learned my lesson. Well any sane person should have learned some kind of lesson. Not me, I foolishly write a third book. Yup, I know, what am I thinking? The book is about me selling my soul to the devil in order to get just one of my seldom read books published. Once again my beta readers love the book, even though I have sent rough draft versions so far. The book is still rough draft. Everybody loves the query. I am not in a hurry to write finished draft, I am leery. Are my beta readers still have no idea what a good book looks like. I am afraid that literary agents will bring me back to my senses.
When I began this journey into literary hell I thought all you needed was a good story. I was a dreamer, a fool, a wisher. I have learned one lesson. I have learned how to give up. I give up every other day. I give up, then try again. I dream less, and doubt myself more.
I still believe that all three books are great stories and read worthy. One day I might find a common folk agent.
We now come to the end of my blog. Do you remember the last four words I asked you to remember? They demanded to be heard. Well, I should have told them to shut up.

.

Ouch

2011-06-10T00:32:00.004-05:00

This is an old love song I wrote years ago, Mrs. Raballard and I are great. I just like the song, maybe someone can add music to it

Can't get over losing you song

They say time heals all wounds of a broken heart.
Sounds real good to me, so when does the healing start?

Because time has stood still since you went away.
And my heart's not getting better, I don't care what others say.

When you left my side, you asked me if I'd wait.
Well the waitings getting harder, and I feel it's getting late.

I keep asking myself if you still feel the same.
And do you hear me late at night when I whisper your name.

I stopped and talked to an old friend, we used to know.
The tears started down my cheeks, so I turned around to go.

There you stood, with someone new.
I tried to smile and say hello. But there was nothing I could do.

I've tried everything I know to get you off of my mind.
I guess you're going to stay there till the end of time

So here I sit too damn blind to see.
That no matter what my heart says you're not coming back to me.

I wonder if you know what you’ve put me through?
And no matter how hard I try, I can't stop loving you.

So give me a call, and tell me how you are.
Or tell me to come running, it doesn't matter how far.

Well I guess I have nothing more to say.
Except I still miss you every second every day.

I've tried everything I know to get you off of my mind.
I guess you're going to stay there till the end of time.
Yes, I've tried everything I know to keep you off of my mind.
But I guess I'm going to love you till the end of time.

Basic Query for GOING. GOING. GONE. SOULED

2011-06-06T22:56:00.003-05:00

Would it surprise you to learn that the sales of souls to the Devil are increasing at a staggering, alarming rate. Due to our dismal economy there are more destitute, lost souls that are seeking an easy way out. On the whole they are not seeking fame and fortune as in previous hard times; most simply sell their souls for a promise of their 401K’s safety, or for secure employment. However, still selling one’s soul to the Devil is not for the weak of heart and should be left to professionals.

Our story focuses on one lost soul. Ramon Ballard, an unemployed draftsman and wanna-be author. He just had another grueling, defeating day of query rejections. That night after his family retires for the evening; he whispers “I would sell my soul if I could get just one of my books published.” The Devil is always willing to negotiate with fools with impossible requests. Especially now that he is looking for an author to write his biography, a biography that would show the World a more
benevolent, caring devil.

After agreeing to write the biography, Ramon soon learns he is a pawn in the Devil’s evil scheme to take over the world. And the biography he wrote is the last piece of the Devil’s plan. Once read, the book will hypnotize the world’s population to believe every word written, making the enslavement of the population easier for our new benevolent, and caring leader. Forget about getting on the New York Times bestseller list, Ramon must now find a way to break his deal with the Devil or go down in history as the person that destroyed the world.

Rapture

2011-05-22T17:19:00.001-05:00

I waited yesterday, May 21, 2011 for the promised rapture. I sat comfortably waiting in my easy chair chomping on popcorn and guzzling diet Mtn Dew like there was no tomorrow. Of course technically there was not going to be a tomorrow. Imagine my surprise when midnight came around. I had not been rapt, then I remembered only the good would benefit from rapture. Obviously my lifestyle precludes any kind of rapture.

I checked with FaceBook, Twitter, Skype, and a few bingo sites I hangout in. Not one person ended up benefitting from rapture. The masses still wrote their status’, tweets flowed, and I still lost my butt in bingo.
What went wrong? Where was my rapture? It dawned on me that maybe my rapture had been postponed, to be rapt at a later date. I did what any disappointed red-blooded American would do. I googled “THE END OF THE WORLD”. Imagine my shock when I read that I have survived 119 predicted ENDS OF THE WORLD, and I am only 62.
Here are a few of what I will refer to close brushes with death.

In 1953 a book came out predicting that the world would end in August of 1953. I was only five at the time, so I didn’t pay attention.

A pastor from California predicted that sometime between April 16 and 23, 1957 that Armageddon would sweep the world! Millions of people would parish. I was nine at the time, and didn’t keep up on current events, but I am sure my parents would have told me if there had been any wide spread perishing.

In the 1970’s a religious fanatic predicted Haley’s comet would end life as we know it. At about the same time a group called The True Light Church of Christ forecasted the return of Jesus Christ. Many from the Church quit their jobs and waited for the blessed event. I suppose they were upset to learn that they couldn’t get unemployment. Waiting for the return of the Messiah is not a sufficient enough excuse for quitting your job.

1981 could be renamed the year of rapture. There were two predicted dates for rapture. One predicted that the rapture would occur on December 31. The prediction was a concoction of Christian prophesies astronomy, and a whole lot of fatalism. A church of fanatics, goof-balls and most likely aliens predicted rapture would take place on June 28, when June 28 passed they sent a news release they had miscalculated, the new date was August 7, both were wrong. I was a newlywed in 1981, the marriage was bad from the start, I would have welcomed any kind of world ending scenario.

The planets aligned in 1982, creating magnetic forces and Armageddon.
Also in 1982 a group called the Tara Center took out a full-page ad claiming that Christ second coming was scheduled for the April 24-25 weekend. At that time I only read the sports-page. Either I missed it, or it didn’t happen.

Need I go on? The results are easily googleable. It is likely that there will be many predicted raptures between now and the real end of the world, December 21, 2012.
Until then live your life like there is no tomorrow, who knows how many close calls we can endure.

May 20

2011-05-20T14:28:00.002-05:00

It's been over a month since I posted, thought I would add a little ditty I wrote for my parents. Growing up I seldom saw them do anything but argue.

I have finished my "sell my soul to the devil book" I am considering adding my book "THE LAST CHANCE" to kindle. Bypassing publication all together. I have started another round of queries for my middle grade fantasy.

I am fighting myself, part of me wants to stop writing books that will never see the light of day. I am told all my books are great, too bad the right agent does not share the views of my handful of fans.

Small House
It’s a small house, we both know it.
There isn't much room for us to be.
Maybe that’s why you’re not home much.
Or could that lonely reason just be me?
I give you everything, but seldom
get anything in return.
What can I do?
Or is it that fire will never again burn?
Yes, it’s a small house, but it seems
to be filled up with tears.
It’s a small house, but there’s more than enough room for
us to be lonely through our years.

April 6, 2011

2011-04-06T22:39:00.006-05:00

THE WANNA-BE PUBLISHED CREED

To dream the impossibe dream
To fight the unbeatable deadline
To wait with unbearable sorrow
Cause you queried where the brave dare not go

To write the unwriteable sequel
To become better than you actualiy are
To type when your arms are to weary
To reach the unreachable word

This is my quest, to follow that agent
No matter how hopeless, it has been so far
To be willing to write till there's no more to give
To be willing to try so that honor and royalties may live

To question my sanity without question or pause
To be willing to write about hell for a heavenly cause

And I know if my query is true in my glorious quest
That the query wil not lie in a slush pile when I'm laid to my rest

And the world will read better for this
That one man, form rejected, leaving scars
Still strove with his last edited query
To reach the unreachable agent

PS I love the song, The Imopssible Dream, I have not asked for the rights to the song. I might get sued, or worse yet end up in prison.

March 26. 2001

2011-03-26T23:23:00.001-05:00

Parenthood 101

Some children grow up in spite of their parents while some grow up despite their parents. But no matter how they grow up, there are far too many that forsake their parents guidance.
There are no incantations or magic spells that can prevent your child from running headlong into a brick wall. There is no amount of love that can stop them from ruining their life. It doesn’t matter to a child that you once journeyed down the same path they travel today. They could care less that you made similar mistakes in your life. They can’t conceive that you were once their age, and it wouldn’t matter if they could.
Trying to tell them that have a future, beyond tomorrow is futile. You might as well try to teach a pig to sing. All they see is today. Telling a daughter hell bent on destruction that school is more important than love falls on deaf ears. You can’t make them see that their new love destroyed her lifelong dream. You might as well hold your breath. They have lost all sight.
No there is no way of preventing your child from ruining her live. I wish that there was. All you can do is watching them self destruct. It is hard, but a parent must silently watch from the sidelines tosses way all values, morals, and teachings.
Take it from me before it’s too late for you. Let your child fall on their face. I tried to keep her upright, and only got abuse, hate, and hours upon hours of wondering where I failed.
There are no incantations or magic spells that can prevent your child from running headlong into destruction. You need to keep silent, while it breaks your heart into a million pieces.

March 14, 2011

2011-03-14T23:06:00.000-05:00

WON'T BELIEVE IN FOREVER

When you left, it was no big deal thing.
Life still goes on, I knew it would.
The wounds will heal; it's just a matter of time.
But I don't believe in forever anymore.
Love is a play; you really know your part.
You had me believing all your lines were true.
Like the one where you'd be mine forever.
It won't take long to forget all about you.
I don’t believe in forever anymore.
Yes, the pain will end.
But I will never believe in forever again

Chapter Eight Welcome to mt hell

2011-02-19T12:03:00.002-06:00

Chapter Eight Outlaws, Assassins and Gangsters, oh no.

Jesse and Billy whisked Ramon out of the Bar and Drill. Gentleness must be subjective. The Outlaws showed very little gentleness as they bum rushed him out the door. Ramon headed in the same direction as he and Delilah entered the marketplace. Billy jerked his shoulder, almost dragging him down to the ground. Jesse upholstered his six-shooter, “don’t go getting any ideas city-slicker. We’re supposed to take you to your room, and I aim to get you there.”
Ramon rubbed his shoulder. “I was going back to my room. I always remember directions. I’m a direction savant. I have a built in compass.
Billy pushed away Jesse’s gun, “Jess your problem is you have always been too quick on the draw. We wouldn’t wanna shoot the boss’ honored guest, now would we? I can just imagine the posse the devil could muster up.” Staring a hole through Ramon “Well, Mr. Honored Guest, looks like your internal compass must be broken. The exit is that-a way,” pointing in the opposite direction. It was the direction that led them further into the market place.
Each step led the cowboys and writer further into filth and degradation. Barkers were screaming their wares. There were shouts of dancing girls here, and midget wrestling here. Buy our drugs hawkers drowned out hawkers for Viagra cereal with cherries. A neon light flashed all monkeys all the time. A hunchbacked witch pressed a flyer in Ramon’s hand,. it read vote for Joseph Stalin junior class president. There was so much more slime and deprivation that Ramon encountered, but I think you get the jist of the unholy market place.
They finally reached a corridor leading out of the marketplace. The corridor was wider than the others. The corridor had short stepped walls spaced every one hundred yards or so. The walls were about three feet high and stepped down to two feet and one foot. The walls facing him were, dusted with bullet holes. Billy gingerly fingered the butt of his gun. Jesse was cautious, his eyes scanning the corridor ahead.
“Do ya see ‘em Bill?”
“Nah, but they are out there.” A volley of bullets whizzed past Ramon’s ears, as they ducked behind the closest wall. “Well Jess seems as we ain’t gonna be disappointed, they’re out there behind that wall.” Another round of bullets hit the wall. “Shit where are Sundance and Butch? Those bastards got us outnumbered again.” He returned fire, without looking at what he was firing at.”
Jesse handed Ramon a gun. “You do know how to handle a piece dontcha?” Ramon took the firearm with his thumb and pointing finger, with the muzzle facing downwards. Jesse grabbed the piece from the writer, “damn didn’t think so. You city folk are about as useless as a jackass.” Standing up as if daring the unseen shooters to shot him. Jesse fired widely, holding guns in both hands. Bullets from the opposite wall riddled his body, passing through his chest, and flying into the open marketplace. The marketplace went about its business as if nothing out of the ordinary occurred. “That was a close call,” Jesse remarked, crouching behind the wall to reload.
Ramon worked up the courage to ask his escorts, “is that the posse?”
They both stopped firing long enough to give him a confused look, “posse?”
“Hell no, that ain’t no posse. They are way more dangerous than any posse we ever faced.”
“They are even more dangerous than my old pal and killer Pat Garret,” Billy piped in, while sneaking a look over the top of the wall. “Thems cutthroats up there are the assassins and gangsters. They kinda made an alliance down here. They are making life rough for us poor ol’ bandits, and impossible for the thieves, pickpockets, kidnappers, and lawyers.”
Ramon took a quick look over the wall. The assailants were hunkered down behind their wall. However, a man with long curly blonde hair, a van dyke beard, wearing a buckskin jacket with arrows protruding like a pin cushion stood half way between the walls. He was firing af both sides, telling unseen soldiers to stand pat because there are only a few of them.
“Is that who I think it is?” he asked to no one in particular.
The escorts stood up, only to be riddled with dozens of bullets. “Damn it Custer we told you before that this is none of your concern. There ain’t no indjuns here. Ya’ll got yourself turned around again. Your game is three corridors to the left. Now skidaddle.” Billy said to the pin cushioned general.
“Sorry about that. Do we need to start over, or can we start at the point where we were before the general interrupted us?” Jesse yelled over to the other wall.
A voice came from behind the far wall. “No need to start over.”
“Thanks,” Jesse yelled back.
“You’re welcome,” said the voice from behind the far wall.
“Right, carry on. Where are we?” Jesse asked.
“We were about to demand the hostage.”
“That’s right the hostage. Are you going to?”
“Going to what?” asked the voice.
“Demand the hostage.” Jesse asked. Yes, I know this is very Monty Pythonese, I am only trying to give you an accurate account of the gun battle, as inane as it was.
“Sure, send us the hostage, and we will spare you and the Kid.”
Jesse sat down and conferred with Billy. After a few minutes they both stood up again, and again they were riddled with bullets. “You get the hostage over our dead bodies,” they said in unison.
The voice chuckled. “You got to do better than that. You are already dead.”
Jesse scratched his head with the barrel of his gun. “They make a good argument.”
“Besides this is our territory.” the voice said. Ramon was getting worried.
“Damn I hate when they are right. Alright we are sending over our hostage. ‘Cept he ain’t no hostage. He is an honored guest of the big dude. You will have some explaining if you accidently shoot him.”
“We know that, it’s our territory, thus our turn to escort the mortal to his room."
Ramon had no say in the matter. Jesse turned to him and said, “you heard him, you best be moseying over there. And for hells sake you best be walking with your hands up, them assassins spook easily.” That was it. “Here he comes. Don’t shoot him too much. Are we on for the same time tomorrow?”
“Sure, have a bad night.”
Remember this is Hell. When a dead soul tells you to have a bad night it means the same as have a good night to any sane person.
Ramon stepped out from behind his protective wall with his hands help high above his head. His new escorts remained hidden, but he could hear his former escorts high-tail it back to the marketplace. The walk to the opposite bullet ridden wall was painfully slow. Each step was like an eternity.
Patience is a virtue that most damned souls lack. Ramon was barely half way to the wall when he heard, “damn he is slower than molasses. Let’s go hurry him up, we ain’t got all night. AMC is showing Young Mr. Lincoln, I love that movie.”
They rushed out from behind the wall to meet Ramon. Two of the six needed no introduction. He knew instantly who they were. Lee Harvey Oswald carrying a rifle with a huge scope was in the lead, followed closely by John Wilkes Booth, and his tiny derringer. He could only guess who the others were. He guessed that the chubby one in the bulky overcoat to be Al Capone. Machine Gun Kelly must be the person with the old fashioned, round cartridge, machine gun. He couldn’t figure out who the one in the dress was. She was too young to be Ma Parker, and didn’t look anything like Faye Dunaway, so she couldn’t be Bonnie. He found out that it was Bonnie that meant the last dude was Clyde, though he looked nothing like Warren Beatty.
There was no doubt the voice behind the wall belonged to John Wilkes. I myself find it morbidly ironic that his favorite movie was Young Mr. Lincoln. .
Surrounded by assassins and hoodlums gave Ramon a queasy feeling, especially when they started arguing which two would end up being his escort. None of them wanted to do it. The argument turned into a shouting match, and then fist-a-cuffs. It was clear Bonnie and Clyde lost by a wide margin when all the shouting, punching, and pleading came to a screeching halt The losers inherited the job as escort. When they turned to tell the honored guest who his new escort would be, he had quietly walked away. The group of villains went about their business, unconcerned that the devil’s honored guest had vanished.

February 6, 2011

2011-02-06T21:40:00.001-06:00

A short poem for the week.

True to my Word

I promised myself, the night that you left, I wouldn't fall apart.
True to my word and in spite of myself, it only broke my heart.

The sun came up the very next morning I didn't think it would.
I still got up and went off to work, although I didn't think I could.

The world still turns, with or without you but I don’t know where to start.
So......No.......It wasn't the end of the world just the end of my heart.

Chapter 7 Welcome to my Hell

2011-02-02T00:17:00.002-06:00

Chapter Seven Feast with Beasts

The door opened, and a man walked in wearing a green striped waist jacket with a stiff collar up to the nape of his neck a white ruffled shirt. The shirt stuck out like a sore thumb. He was wearing a white powdered wig. He walked into the room with his nose up in the air looking at Ramon with disdain. The man went to a far corner and stood as if he were superior. Five or six uneasy minutes passed while powdered wig dude gave Ramon the evil eye. The look ended when the door burst open. Three heavy set ghosts comically attempted to enter the door at the same time. The entrance would have made the three Stooges proud. Elbowing each other though the door, when they would not fit they each inhaled, becoming one massive gross ghost. Once through the door they separated, felt to make sure they were all there and growled at each other. The room grew eerie silent and calm with expectation. The fifth dinner guest framed himself in the doorway. Dark brown pants, light brown shirt, thin black crossing guard belt across his right chest, red, white and black swastika on his left arm. Ramon would have known this ghoul even without his trademark moustache and bangs.
The four guests snapped to attention and gave a brisk, “heil Hitler.” Hitler acknowledged with a curt salute back. He goose-stepped up to the head of the table and sat down. That was the signal for the guests to find their seats. They jockeyed, pushed, and threw each other out of the way to get the best seats. The strongest sat next to Hitler, the weakest settled for the seat next to Ramon. His sneer made it known he was not too happy.
A swinging door in the back of the room swung open. A man in a black trench coat and a bowler hat pulled down to his eyebrows entered the room and slunk to the table. He gave a quick man nod to those sitting at the table and turned to address the guest of honor.“Jack here, ummm I suppose you might recognize my name better if I use the name the London press gave me. Jack the Ripper here,” he said extending his hand. Ramon didn’t know what to do. Shaking hands with a serial killer turned part-time janitor was not on his to-do is list. He chose to not shake the hand. Manners be damned. Jack looked at his hand as if it was on fire, smiled and withdrew his hand. He looked at those assembled at the table, “the boss wants you guys to introduce yourselves to his guest. Remember he has been invited him and he is to be treated with respect. You guys know what respect is, right?” Blank looks appeared on all the diners with the exception of Hitler. “I told the boss you wouldn’t know respect if it came up and bit you on the ass. Treat him unlike you treat others. Get it? I guess you don’t need an instruction Adolf. Your accomplishments were well known to his generation,” He pointed to the bulky dude next to Adolf, “You go first Hun, and go around the table from there.”
The dude was wearing a pointy hat trimmed with black fur, and a coat of animal skin, with the head of the bear still attached. He had thin upside down v-shaped eyebrows, slanted eyes, a thin black moustache and a short cropped black beard. “Attila the Hun, King of the horse people, scourge of God, destroyer of villages, enemy of the Romans.”
The next guy wore a black tri-corner hat, a bright blue jacket with guns at each waist.“Avast, I be Edward Teach, better known as Blackbeard. I don’t know why I am here. I was always nice to my crew, and seldom tortured my prisoners. I just got bad press.”
“Give it a rest Ed,” the next man said. The man dressed in a red bandana, and a red robe. He had a thick Russian accent. “I am the ruler of all Russia, Ivan the Awesome. Ok, it was supposed to be Ivan the Awesome but somehow got turned around and became Ivan the Terrible. Hell, burn a few dozen villages and get branded for life.”
The guy in the sissy shirt, the one that ended sitting next to Ramon was next. “I do not need to introduce myself to a peasant. He is beneath my station.”
“Come on Max,” coaxed Jack.
“Oh, very well, Maximillien Robespierre, mastermind and all around bad guy All of France feared me. Adolf was a puppy dog in France compared to the terror I supplied. I also made Marie Antoinette eat her cake, so to speak. Top that Jack.” Jack looked at Ramon indicating it was his turn.
“Ramon Ballard, I watch football on Sundays.” Those at the table gave growled in unison. “I root against the Saints. And I play online bingo.” That satisfied the table.
“Dinner shall be served shortly, but first some light entertainment. Direct from Harrods. John lost his head for this dish, the one the only, Salome.”
A young, gorgeous girl entered the room, wearing nothing but veils of different colors. She started hip gyrating, pelvic twists, and moves that Ramon had not seen before. She slowly removed the first veil, enticing the men at the table. Hitler removed the second veil. Attila ripped off the third veil. Sissy shirt’s face turned bright red as he removed the fifth veil. Ramon sat with his head in his hands, refusing to look after she entered the room. Sure he was a red blooded American guy, but if you re-read chapter one you will remember he is married. He loved his wife and was not about to jeopardize his marriage by watching the dance of the seven veils. There might be some among you that would argue that he jeopardized his marriage when he sold his soul to the devil. Even I have to admit that watching the Biblical stripper was not the worst thing he could do. Having dinner with Hitler and the other hooligans might be difficult to explain. Ramon’s eyes were completely closed by the time the dancer removed the seventh veil She stood in her birthday suit bowing to rousing round of cat-calls and applause.
“Thank you dear that was breathtaking. What did you say dear? No sorry there will be no heads cut off this time, maybe next time, Gather your veils and run home to daddy please. Without further adieu, dinner is served.” He clapped his hands and scantily clad girls flooded the room, carrying platters full of food.
Ramon gagged when he saw the food that serving girls placed on the table. The beef was moldy. The turkey looked raw. At first the rice looked edible, but he lost his appetite when the rice wiggled and moved. The beasts sitting at the table devoured the feast. It was like they hadn’t eaten in centuries. He found out later that they hadn’t eaten in centuries.
Jack sidled up next to Ramon. “Go ahead dig in, the food won’t bite you, well not too hard that is.”
I’m really not hungry. I had a peanut on the flight here.”
“Flight?” asked Jack, “oh yes the new fangled way of transportation up there. D. B. Cooper told me all about it. The boss told me you need to eat and get some rest. You have a lot to do tomorrow.”
“I couldn’t eat another bite, it was a big peanut.”
“Very well, if you insist, you should return to your room and rest.” Jack snapped his fingers and two cowboys appeared. “Billy, Jesse, please escort Mr. Ballard to the Jim Jones room.”
Billy and Jesse took Ramon by the scruff of the neck and seat of his trousers. “Gently, he is an honored guest of the boss,” Jack said.

January 29, 2011

2011-01-30T00:51:00.003-06:00

I love writing. I have been told that I am very good at it, however dragons from my past can't believe it. One day I am going to slay that dragon, but right now that dragon, sometimes refered to as doubt consumes me. I wont divulge the painful reasoning behind my self doubt, they will go to the grave with me. Let's assume, for arguments sake that I am a great writer. I must be. The proof is in the comments of the fifty to a hundred people that have read my work. I love writing, apparently I am good at it. I have one nagging question that remains unanswered. One mystery to me that remains a riddle. Why hasn't one agent seen what my readers see in me? Do agents have a different conception on what can be classified good? Regular every day Joe's are the ones who buy most books. Or at least they were the last time I checked.
I just don't get it.

Shall I say it again? I love writing, it's the publishing part of the writing I don't like.

At what point does your dreams become nightmares? When is the correct time to become jaded? When does disappointment become failure. I still have aspiration of getting published. I still hope that my current WIP will be the one to catapult me into a book deal. If not this WIP then certainly the next or the next or the next

I would like to re-post an article I wrote concerning the disappointment connected with the life of a no-name author. By the way I still had stars in my eyes, and was far less jaded when I wrote this.

As I write this another in a long line of form rejections gracefully falls into my printer’s tray, with a soul-shattering thud. Once again an agent that showed so much promise in the beginning has proven that she does not share my dream. This agent seduced me with her web site as she beckoned me with her, “this agent is actively building her clients.” How many times have I fallen for that come-hither mesmerizing “this agent represents middle-grade” hypnotizing stare?
It would seem that lessons would have been learned by now. How do we as writers accept getting knocked on our butts, and keep coming back for more? Is it easy for us to see our dreams be dismissed subjectively? How many of us would stop associating with friends that told us that we just didn’t fit in, or were just not right. It is something we as wanna be authors face on a daily basis, or in some cases we face rejection three or four times a day.

Everyone of us go to our email countless times each day, searching for that solitary positive response to our query, coming back empty handed more times than not. We click our inbox closed with our “new no news is good news attitude”. We read with interest what other writers say about their queries, and how agent X rejected, or requested a partial, nano-seconds after they hit send. We wonder why a particular agent has responded to a particular writer, when the same agent has had your query for months without a response.

Well guess what. Rejection is the cold hard fact of the ruthless publishing business. The sooner we accept that 9 out of 10, and sometimes 99 out of 100 queries will get rejected or ignored is all a part of the game and never personal, the sooner we can move on. It’s hard to accept rejection after rejection, after rejection, but we must accept. Literary Agents do not sit in their offices and choose whose dream to crumble today. Accept that before a flower can grow there needs to be rain, or in my case monsoons.

Each and every one of us is a dreamer. We all chase our own individual rainbow. We all love what we do; writing is a passion for most of us. There is a price we all must pay for our dreams, rainbows are never free. Hope is the price we pay; it’s what gets us through to the next query. There is no doubt we hope our next query is our last query. Without hope there would be no literature.

I have always been a dreamer; I have never given up hope that my dreams will someday be the dreams of the perfect agent.

Give me the patience to accept that which I cannot change, and the courage to hope for my place in the stars.

Never give up. Accept failure with the determination to get it better the next time. Dream the impossible dream, and wish on the evening star.

One day soon, you’ll walk past a reader with their nose in a book and smile and say “that’s me they’re reading

Chapter 6 Welcome to my Hell

2011-01-26T17:27:00.002-06:00

Chapter Six Guess who’s coming to dinner.

The walls turned into dense clouds and disappeared at the exact same time the devil left. A grand marble stairway replaced the missing walls. Ramon instantly thought of Tara, and hopes of having an elevator handy. The stairs were full of dirt incrusted cracks that hadn’t been cleaned for eons. An occasional a ghostly rat, the size of a large cat scampered up and down the stairs as if they owned the stairs. Their razor sharp teeth dripped with blood. Ramon thought the devil and Mr. Bundy must be crazy. There was no way he was about to walk up a flight of stairs infested with demon rats. Before any of you get the idea that I am an anti-rat person, let me assure you that I am not. My family has had rats as pets for years’ Sure they creep me out and I refuse to touch one of the varmints. So the pro-rat people readers need not send me rat hate mail. Mr. Bundy didn’t hesitate as he began to ascend the stairway, obviously he was crazy. Ramon refused to move. Bundy stopped after the fifth stair when a rat came out and sniffed his hand. He tickled the rat behind the ear, when the rat turned onto its back Bundy rubbed him vigorously on its belly. “Come on, they won’t hurt you, they only react to fear.” Bundy shrugged his shoulders and cracked his fingers when Ramon refused to budge. Bundy’s eyes glowed. He raised the palm of his right hand, made a couple of air circles and opened his mouth. A forceful wind came from within him, which twisted around Ramon, sucking him up the stairs. He tried not to show any sign of fear as he floated upward, but failed miserably. Demon, blood dripping rats nibbled at his feet all the way up until he reached the landing.
Mr. Bundy escorted Ramon down a long, winding corridor. Black or red doorways were randomly placed haphazardly placed on either side of the corridor. Weeping and wailing voices screamed from behind each black door. Raucous laughter and merriment emanated from behind the red doors. It was obvious to him that the red doors were where the elite Hellions spent their off hours. The black doors were where the less desirable Hellions spent their off hours. Mr. Bundy finally spoke after they passed about half a dozen doors. “The black doors are by invitation only. Enter the red doors at your own risk. However, if I were you I would avoid the red room at all costs. Hopefully, you will get an invitation to the other door.”
They walked in silence again. Ramon leery and apprehensive both doors frightened him. Bundy spent the time ogling young ladies who happened to cross the corridor. Bundy’s ogling was as frightening as the colored doors. An eternity of walking when they came to a midnight blue door with the stars and a full moon painted on it. Bundy opened the door, and then stood aside, refusing to enter the room. “Someone will be around soon to escort you to dinner.” He turned on his heels and chased a pretty blonde down the corridor that happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. OK this is Hell, maybe she was in the right place at the wrong time. You decide,
The room was much like the devil’s office, devoid of unnecessary furnishings. There was a closed door in one corner. He hoped it led to a bathroom. A small dresser with a basket of toiletries and fruit on top stood out of place in the other corner. The dresser had the look of a thrift store dresser. Most of the fruit had turned rotten. A four poster canopy bed sat in the center of the room. Red curtains with yellow lightning bolts highlighted the bed. The bed looked exactly like Scrooge’s bed from A Christmas Carol. Ramon expected Ebenezer or three ghosts to pop out and surprise him. There were no surprises, he was alone. Non-matching nightstands stood on each side of the bed. Each nightstand paled in comparison to the dresser. An alarm clock stood on one, 1:11 flashing in bright LED red. He looked at his watch for the first time since entering the castle. I was still showing the same time. The other nightstand held a small cup with a toothbrush and a traveler’s size toothpaste. The pictures on the wall stood out like a sore thumb. A larger than life picture of the devil filled the wall opposite the foot of the bed. The eyes followed him around the room, just creepy. On one wall there was a picture of the Kool-aid pitcher slaying people with a sword. On the other wall hung a picture of the Hawaiian punch dude standing on a pile of bones, unfurling a flag. I will admit they do carry the Jim Jones’s poison punch a bit too far.
Exhausted he sat on the bed. The bed wobbled with his weight. As I explained before Ramon is short of stature, and his weight is not of bed wobbling proportions. Peeling the curtains back he found someone or something had chewed of one of the bed’s leg off. Books propped up the bed. The books were at least one half inch short of completing their job, thus the wobble.
Exhausted Ramon climbed into the rocking bed. The bed was way too hard and the pillows were way too soft, while the covers were way too hot. Within a few minutes he was fast asleep, dreaming of being eaten by lava while dining at the Last Supper while revolutionary and French soldiers looked on.
He was awoken by a loud knock on his door and an ear-splitting gong. Another knock followed. Ramon wiped sleep from his eyes as he drowsily walked to the door. He ran his fingers through his remaining hair to make himself presentable, and opened the door. A stunning brunette stood on the other side of the door. She wore a thread bare low cut white blouse and a bright yellow skirt that had not seen the light of day for centuries. A look of disappointment masked her dark brown eyes. She coyly turned and started down the corridor, glancing over her shoulder indicating he was to follow her.
No words were spoken, apparently ghosts don’t like to chit chat. She stayed one step ahead of him. Ramon couldn’t help noticing the swaying of her hips as she glided. The corridor was basically empty with the exception of an occasional ghoul crossing their path. One ghoul dressed in a plush royal robe and jewel incrusted crown smiled at the escort. “I am happy to see you once again Delilah. I need to make an appointment for a haircut, I only need a trim this time dear, last time you sort of went overboard, damn near cut my head off.”
“Call my office tomorrow Henry, I will fit you in somehow.” Satisfied the kingly ghoul walked away. “That was Henry in case you are wondering. Supposedly he was the eighth king of a place called England. Well, that’s what others here call him, King Henry the eighth of England. Anyway he does have a bit of a phobia about heads being chopped off. Now we know why she was so disappointed the first time she saw Ramon, not enough hair.
They took a right at a fork in the corridor; the fork had not been there before. An open marketplace came into view. It reminded him of a marketplace you would see in an epic Biblical movie, but with flashing neon lights. The marketplace was teaming with ghosts and ghouls from all walks of death. Shoppers dressed in a hodgepodge of costumes wandered lifeless through the square. Most costumes were easily recognized. Who says late night movie watching rots your brain? When in the main shopping mall of Hell, those movies proved helpful.
Delilah stopped at a plain wood door. The name Joe’s Bar and Drill had been wood burned into it. “We are here,” she said. Opening the door she pushed Ramon inside. She turned and disappeared into the ghastly crowd.
The bar had one large oak picnic table and bench inside, nothing else. The table was set for six, he was the first to arrive.

January 23, 2011

2011-01-23T22:55:00.003-06:00

poem for the week. It was written when sometime after my divorce

Not for me

I must admit, sometimes I miss someone to hold.
But I can usually chalk it up to having a very bad cold.

Once when I thought I should start over with someone new,
I was relieved when the doctor said "You'll survive, it's just the flu"

I keep my heart, safe and secure, untarnished upon a shelf.
That way if for any reason my heart gets broken, I have no one to blame but myself.

I've been hurt so many times, by love I thought would be true.
I'm sure by now I'm listed in the heart-broken book of "Who's Who".

This experience has left me to believe that love is for the very foolish,
or better left in the capable hands of the very ghoulish.

Think about it, to give yourself to something you can't see.
Well as far as I'm concerned, you can have love. It's not for me!

January 19, 2011

2011-01-19T17:24:00.002-06:00

Coming soon to a blog near you, from the mind that brought you Tenebrae, The Last Chance, and Welcome to my Hell, the compelling story of 14 year old Will Welles.

Will is the great-great grandson of HG Welles and great-great grand nephew of Bram Stoker.

The story will involve both time travel and vampires.

I will complete Welcome to my Hell first.

What do you think.

Chapter Five- Welcome to my Hell

2011-01-19T12:01:00.003-06:00

Chapter Five Meet and greet

A loud shuffling sound emitted from the other side of the door, followed by an eerie scratching rattle of chains. The door creaked slowly open. A tall lanky man dressed in a revolutionary war officer’s uniform complete with the fancy Captain Crunch hat greeted him. He held a lone candle that illuminating his hallows face. “The master is expecting you,” he said standing aside to allow Ramon entrance. The candle glow omitted barely enough light in the small foyer, just enough to see a large ornate door twenty feet ahead. “Walk this way please.”
Ramon held back the urge to say, “if I could walk that way I would need to go to a doctor. He did however notice the absence of clanking chains as the ghost walked. He wondered what became of the eerie freaky sound. His curiosity got the better of him. I distinctly heard the sounds of chains as you were opening the door, what’s up with that?”
Without stopping he said, “sound effects, the master thought the effects up. He needed an efficient way to scare away Jehovah’s Witnesses.”
He opened the door, and held his hand out, as if asking for a tip. A short man dressed in a different military uniform with a bright blue sash and a similar Captain Crunch hat. Ostentatious medals filled the front of his uniform. He placed his right hand inside his unbuttoned tunic. “Thank you General Arnold, I will take our victim, I mean guest to the study.
Both men bowed at the waist as General Arnold excused himself and exited through the door, shutting it behind him. leaving the room in darkness. “Excuse me mon Amie,” said the new officer as he reached through Ramon to flip on the light switch, leaving him feeling violated and completely creepy.
They were in a large room with marble columns and black and white tiles upon the floor. Most of the columns had huge cracks running up them. Many of the floor tiles were missing or had been replaced by an odd color tile. I am not a structural steel engineer, nor do I claim to be but shouldn’t it be seem reasonable to assume that cracked columns holding up God only knows how many floors be a disaster waiting to happen? Structurally unsound to say the least, . By the way it is unwise to think about God while standing in the devil’s domain. God’s little reminder not tp use his name in vane is a sudden shock that starts in your rib cage and continues down to the tips of your toes. Not a pleasant feeling. It would be better to think of barbequed puppy dogs, if you are ever in a similar predicament.
The room was full of priceless statuary, many with arms, heads, or other body parts chopped off. It looked like a who’s who of famous statues. An exact copy of the Mona Lisa hung, crooked on one wall. At least he hoped it was a copy. On the other wall a copy of The Last Super hung. The face of a famous evil World Leader had been pasted on the face of Jesus. Another evil dictator or leader’s face had been pasted on all but one of the disciple’s faces. The only one unaltered was Judas. Ramon’s jaw dropped open and he began to speak.
“The master went through a Renaissance period. It only lasted a few centuries. Don’t worry none of the museums have any clue they have copies of the art work or statues. They are all going to be part of a garage sale next weekend. Shall we continue?”
Ramon pointed at The Last Super in horror. It was like the little General could read his mind. “I know it is blasphemous. I find it horrific too, but I am only one ghost. Every time I place Clinton’s mug on that of Judas it gets removed. He is one of the master’s favorite, Judas not Clinton. Clinton is more like an acquaintance.”
The little general quickened his pace; it was obvious he was more than a little bit pissed off. “To think he has me, the World’s greatest Emperor, no offense intended Caligula,” he said to a ghost in Roman Emperor garb.
“None taken, “replied the hawk nosed Emperor as he passed by.
"Now, where was I before that Roman upstart interrupted me? Oh yah greatest Emperor. Never mind we are here, your next station. Sorry for ranting, but we so seldom get new meat, er, guests.”
“He is not utilizing my enormous talents. I could be put to better used elsewhere in Hell. Don’t get me wrong I love it here, well we have no other choice.” A large fearsome rumble rang bellowed out, “I have said too much,” the little general said as he scampered off, holding one hand to his ear and looking back as if he was in danger.
A grey clouded wall stood before him. Looking up, he could see no limit to the clouds. The clouded wall looked endless as he peered to his right and left. He tried walking through the clouds but they were too dense. He bounced right off. The clouds started to encircle him. He was trapped. The clouds drew closer to him as they surrounded him. Ramon lounged for the open roomy spaces of the tank. A bright light blinded him as soon as the clouds completed the circle. Ramon thought he was a goner, again. If you ask me being blinded by the devil’s bright light is overkill. I mean the devil already had Ramon in his clutches; there was no reason to blind him. Don’t you agree?
He found himself in a very large room. The room was void of any furniture, save a very old oak desk with a large thrown like chair behind the desk. A rusty folding chair sat in front of the desk, looking very much out of place. A crystal chandelier with thousands of white and red candles was centered over the desk. Numerous scrolls, folders brimming with paper lay strewn all over the desk. A quill holder and ink to one side of a computer that looked as if it was from the early 1990’s. On the other side of the computer was a tray full of pens and magic markers.
Ramon was very much alone in the room, and he thought for a brief moment of rifling through the desk’s drawers and flipping through the folders. Thankfully he didn’t do that. It happened to be the devil’s personal desk. Nosing through the devil’s junk would be an invasion of privacy. Even the devil deserves privacy in his study.
What caught his attention were the grey walls of the large room. Tapestries hung on the walls, seven tapestries in all. Graphic pictures were depicted on each tapestry. Greed, lust, gluttony, sloth, wrath, envy, and pride, the seven deadly sins were all represented by a gruesome tapestry.
A voice from behind startled Ramon, “I see you are admiring the seven Earthly joys…” he swung around to come face to face with the voice.
There was a man with long stringy hair down the side of his head, but bald on top stood behind him. The man no taller than Ramon, have I mentioned before that Ramon is vertically challenged? The man no taller than Ramon greeted his gaze, eye to eye. He was wearing black sweatpants and a tattered Arizona State tee-shirt. “I’m sorry but I am waiting for someone, I didn’t touch anything, promise.”
“Waiting, indeed, and just who might you be waiting for?” the stranger said, his piercing steel blue eyes unsettled the desk raider.
Ramon stared in another direction, the stranger’s eyes seemed to look right down to his soul, and well technically it was still his soul. “I would prefer not tell the janitor.”
“The janitor?” asked the stranger as a thin smile appeared on his lips followed a gut laugh. The laughter rattled the chandeliers. “Yes, that’s a good idea. One should not to tell the janitor anything in this office. Mr. Ripper has a bit of a problem keeping secret. Unless you are a one of his victims, if you know what I mean.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you, if you must know I have business with the devil.”
“I am he,” the stranger said.
I don’t think so; you don’t look anything like him.” When facing the devil for the first time it is best not a great idea to call him a liar.
“I will let that remark slide, but never doubt me again.” The devil snapped his fingers, and presto he changed from a short balding man into a horned beast. The exact image of the devil we have all come to know and fear. Snapping his fingers again he returned to the short balding man. “Satisfied? The commonly known image of me is more for show. It is more or less for the fear factor. I prefer to be myself while at home. I judge you had an enjoyable ride.”
Ramon decided not to mention how torturous the ride had been. Since the devil could probably read minds anyways, “Your driver was one hour late.”
“Let me apologize about that. I found Jeffery D., the usual driver in a compromising with Mata Harte, and we had to choose another driver.”
“So you decided to punish me because Jeffery was caught doing the horizontal mambu with a spy from World War One?”
“Punish you? We would never stoop so low. OK maybe we would. I didn’t punish Jeffery. I rewarded him with a day off and a weekend in Las Vegas. I had to find a replacement, and find one fast, that’s when I decided to punish Goliath. The big oaf has been getting under my skin for centuries. With his crying and moaning about how that David guy had not fought fair. He is forever asking for a rematch, blah, blah, blah. He was becoming a nuisance. So I chose him, despite the fact he had never driven a car before. I thought it would be fun. I am currently working out a deal with the man upstairs for a rematch to be seen on pay for view.”
“You mean the Man upstairs has agreed to it?” Ramon said pointing towards the heavens.
The devil blinked his steel blue eyes confused, “oh, not that man upstairs, we don’t get along. I meant the president of the World Wrestling Federation. That man upstairs.” He picked up a large bell and rung it twice. “It’s too late to do much business. You must be exhausted. Go rest up before dinner.”
A very good looking gentleman entered the room. Don’t get the wrong impression. it is all right for another man to call another man good looking, especially when writing fiction.
“Take our guest to his room Mr. Bundy. I have arranged for him to stay in the Jim Jones suite. Oh, and Mr. Bundy, please check the room for any punch. We wouldn’t want to lose our guest on his first night. I have great plans for him. I won’t be joining you for dinner Mr. Ballard. Don’t worry you won’t be dining alone. I have arranged some of Hell’s finer citizens for your dining companions. We will meet soon enough” Poof he was gone.

January 16, 2011

2011-01-16T10:04:00.002-06:00

This is not one of my best poems. It was written for someone I loved who died in an accident, way too young. This is the anniversary of that accident

Softest tear shed

The softest tear shed, is a tear shed over the grave of someone that you loved.
The saddest farewell spoken is the one said to a loved one, who couldn't hear what was said.

The warmest part of my heart is the part that you once touched.
The prettiest flower in the field is the one planted in your memory.

The softest tear shed is the tear shed over the grave of one that you loved.
I have one unanswered question.
Did you cry when you couldn't say Good-Bye?

Chapter Four Welcome to My Hell

2011-01-11T23:23:00.003-06:00

Remember these ghapters are roygh draft only, and will be honed and revised.

Chapter Four Tanks for the Memories

A Roman centurion escorted Ramon to his ride waiting on the other side of the warehouse. The lurking shadow of a large German tank loomed in the foreground. This side of the warehouse was void of any light, save the small flicker of a campfire not more than three feet from the ominous tank. The centurion slapped him on the back then turned to rejoin his comrades. He was alone again. There was no sign of a driver. At least this time his life wasn’t in danger, at least he didn’t think there was any eminent danger. A sudden urge to run came upon him. But again he
was drawn to the campfire and the red glow of five orbs floating about six feet off the ground.
Ramon noticed a black shadow leaning on the tank as he got closer to the campfire. Smoke flittered around the shadow. The smoke was not from the campfire, no, the smoke wafted around each of the red orbs. The shadow walked close to the campfire, his black, hooded robes stopped Ramon dead in his tracks. He recognized the shadowy stranger immediately. The red orbs lowered three feet and returned to their original location. Smoke circled the emptiness of the strangers hood and the red orbs fell to the ground as if they had been tossed aside, The shadow driver produced a pack of cigarettes from the folds of his robes, took out five cigs, lit them and returned the pack.
The hatch of the tank opened mysteriously. The driver began to float toward the open hatch. From out of nowhere a boney hand grasped Ramon and dragged him effortlessly through the open hatch, pushing him into the third seat inside the tank. Once inside the tank the hatch closed itself, with a twist. If closets, confessional booths, or rest rooms found in tiny out of the way convenience stores make you queasy. It would be advised to stay out of German tanks. The inside of a tank is pure a claustrophobic nightmare, especially when the cramped tank is being driven by a multi cigarette chain smoking Grim Reaper.
The tank came to life with a deep rumble and a sudden scream of pain. The tank lurched ahead without any concern for the pain. The Grim Reaper went about his business without as much as a backward glance to his passenger. The ride in the tank was tedious and boring and reminded Ramon of his flight to Phoenix. No matter how fast the plane, or tank in this case went, they always have a feeling of moving in slow motion. The slow motion accompanied by the tiny space becoming filled with cigarette smoke made the journey unbearable.
Ramon thought about his family at home, wondering if they missed him. To be truthful his daughter was harvesting her crops on a Facebook game, while his wife sat cheerfully making Christmas ornaments. The dog had claimed his easy chair. Blissfully unaware that he had ever been there. Ramon glanced at his watch. Some habits are not so easy to break. The watch showed no signs of life. He tried to get some sleep, tried to ignore his surroundings, and tried various other methods to get his mind from his predicament. He even sang, A Few of My Favorite Things from The Sound of Music When that failed he sang a rousing chorus of Nearer My God to Thee, agitating the Grim Reaper to no ends. Nothing helped. The confining continued on and on with no end in sight, leading him to think of his soul again. What did the SS officer mean when he stated his soul had not been paid for? Was there hope for him to regain his soul? Was this damned tank ever going to reach its destination? Would Momnapped become a best seller? His mind raced. The only thing that made the ride halfway bearable was the occasional times the nose of the tank went vertical only to be followed by a quick jerk downwards. Like a roller coaster. He soon realized that the crunching sound associated with the roller coaster ride was not the gears straining. The crunching sound was the sound of destruction of someone’s home. Sure they were the home of damned souls. But even damned souls need some kind of hope and a safe place to raise their damned family.
It felt like he had been an unwilling prisoner in the tank for three to six weeks, at least it felt like that amount of time had passed. In reality the journey had only taken forty-five minutes.
The Grim Reaper opened a slit the turret pointing his boney fingers to something outside of the tank. It reminded Ramon of the ghost of Christmas Past from A Christmas Carol pointing to Scrooge’s grave marker. Neither Scrooge nor Ramon wished to look, terrified what they might see. Like the ghost of Christmas Past, the Grim Reaper was insistent. Unlike Scrooge there was no grave stone to be seen outside the slit. The shape of a dark, creepy castle, straight out of any horror movie castled called for him. They had finally reached their destination. The Devil’s home waited just outside the tank. He was about to enter the Devil’s home and his new assignment.
The Grim Reaper turned the tank’s turret slightly to the right, making sure the castle was not in its sights, and fired a volley. Blowing a small cabin and its occupants to smithereens, Ramon made a mental note to not piss off the Grim Reaper when his time came, soulless or not. The last vestiges of the cabin and occupants had barely vanished before hundreds of bright lights flickered on, lighting a steep stone, unsteady looking stairway. The kind of stairway he had seen in countless Robin Hood type adventure movies. He watched way too much TV.
The Grim Reaper turned to his passenger with an icy blank stare. He removed his cigarettes from his mouth and blew a smoke ring in Ramon’s face. I must interject a word of etiquette here. Non-smokers are always fearful of second hand smoke. It is rude to blow smoke in their face, Grim Reaper or not. The five smoke rings circled his head like the coiling of a rattlesanke before raising skyward, pulling Ramon outside of the tank with them. He looked back at the Grim Reaper just in time to see a boney good-bye wave before the tank began its journey back to where it started. Ramon thought for an instant that the Grim Reaper was returning to the warehouse to pick up more passengers whose souls had not been paid for. He really had little time to reflect on that notion, as the smoke rings dropped him off at the foot of the stone stairway.
There must have been two or three hundred stairs for him to climb. On top of that the stairs looked much like the limo, in various stages of disrepair. Did I mention before that he had arthritis in his knees? I thought I did. However, I failed to mention Ramon was sixty-two years old with high blood pressure a bad back and completely out of shape. His idea of exercise consisted of taking his dog out for a twenty second walk between online bingo games. Occasionally he would get feisty and wrestle the remote control from either his wife or daughter and exercise his thumbs. Climbing the stairs was out of the question, even if he was to rest every twenty or so rungs. Looking around for a handicap entrance or at least an elevator or dumbwaiter, there was none. He thought about flagging down the Grim Reaper and returning to the warehouse but the tank was out of sight.
Staring at the stairway would not get him where he needed to get. He stepped on the first rung and a stone slipped beneath his feet. Two Hundred and Ninety-nine steps to go, and he was already exhausted. OK, I know what you are thinking, what a wimp. One measly step and Ramon is too exhausted to continue. I suggest you go back and read chapters one, two, three and the beginning of this chapter. Let’s review. First the long wait at the airport for a limo from hell, check. Second the crazy death defying ride that ended with a dive off a really high cliff, check. Third, let’s not forget swimming in lava, check. And then of course the tank ride with the Grim Reaper, might I remind you that the Grim Reaper is not a happy camper, and a chain smoker, check. Did I miss anything? Any normal out of shape senior citizen would be exhausted at this point. Is it any wonder he secretly wished for an escalator? Either the Devil works in mysterious ways, or he really wanted to get his biography started. The long stairway began to creep and moan as soon Ramon wished for an escalator. No one can explain the devilish ways of Satan, or why he isn’t bond by physics and scientific reality. Within minutes the rickety unstable stairway turned into a rickety unstable escalator, propelling the exhausted climber to the top. A task that would have taken days or months dropped Ramon off by the front door in less than a half-hour.
A large double wood doorway stood ominous at the end of the stairs. The door had seen better times. The door had definite signs of ageing, chip marks in numerous spots, and splintering in more. Huge iron knockers that resembled the head of a tiger snarled at him as he lifted the clangor. It took him all the strength he had left to lift one knocker and rap it against the door. A sonic boom followed as the knock echoed through the silence. Nothing happened. Catching his breath he raised the knocker again and released it.

January 7, 2011

2011-01-07T07:52:00.000-06:00

I grew up invisible in Salt Lake City, Utah. Invisibility has definite advantages, especially when combined with a vivid imagination. I spent my youth on a raft floating down the Mississippi with my friends Tom, Huck, and Jim. I stood next to George and his rag-tag troops in Valley Forge. I chased windmills with Don Quixote. I spent summers in Europe, winters in Alaska; anywhere my imagination could take me. I created magical, fantasy worlds with magical inhabitants.

Time does not stand still. Fantasy worlds evolve into mundane, everyday life. As I grew older my whimsical travels to far off places diminished and my invisibility slowly faded into visibility. All foolish realms were forgotten, pushed into the furthest regions of my mind. I grew up, but a small part of my mind, the part stuffed to overflowing with imaginary worlds, refused to get older. I must have a Peter Pan soul.

Years passed. One failed marriage became two. I found and married my one true love and began my happily ever after. Happiness has certain side effects, my creativity yearned to shine. The imaginary world refused to be silenced; they demanded to be heard.

Chapter Three Welcome to My Hell

2011-01-05T23:36:00.004-06:00

i see there are no takers for being mentioned in my book, lol. You would be mortal, and good.

Chapter Three The warehouse

Ramon considered himself to have above average intelligence. He graduated from college with honors. That was years ago. Since that time everything he had ever learned in college eroded away and useless information had taken the place. Useless information can be useful if you happen to be on a game show, but will not help you escape from lava. However, it took little intelligence to know he should be toast by now. Melting in lava had not been on his to-do list when the day began. To his amazement inside the limo was relatively comfortable. The raging fire Nero set was burning out of control in the front seat, and the lava was now above the top of the windows. The fire was just a mere nuisance, not really a problem. It was content to stay focused on reaping havoc on the front seat. Something Ramon could not explain. The hot molten lava was content keeping him captive in the limo. Almost as if the lava was playing with its food.
The comfort of the limo lulled him into a false sense of security. All he could think of was how he was happy the limo wasn’t sinking in water, instead of thinking about being devoured by lava eventually. Water terrified him. Soon after his birth his brother, who was not happy that he was no longer an only child dropped him in the toilet to alleviate the problem.
It is best not to over analyze your situation when facing molten lava or a raging fire, regardless of how controlled each appeared to be. Sooner or later one or the other will get to you. Ramon’s luck began to run out as the fire destroyed the last of the front seat and was pounding on the window that separated the fire from its victim. The lava too decided its patience had run out. Hot lava burnt its way through all four doors and the floor boards and was chewing its way up the fabric of the seat. The coziness of the limo was becoming increasingly as the lava began ooze through the open sun-roof. It as if the lava was arguing with the fire on which one would be the first to do away with the lone occupant in the back seat. Argument over, lava easily won. The separating window burned away to nothing within seconds of lava winning the argument. The heat inside the limo became intense. Ramon was sure he was about to become a crispy critter. He was certain he saw a smile on all the little lava’s faces.
Without warning the windshield wipers turned themselves on, pushing lava from one side of the window to the next. In a rapid pulsing beat the windshield became lava free. Ramon was amazed that the rubber wipers had survived the intense heat. Unfortunately they were too late to save him.
A dull light shimmered in the near distance. At least the fire and lava would be able to see him better in the light. The lava hissed and began a slow retreat as the light appeared. The raging inferno doused itself, as if on cue. Something was pulling the limo to the dull light. Of course Ramon thought he was dead, and was going towards the light.
The light got brighter the closer he got to it. Ramon silently hoped died before the devil knew he was gone. He wanted to avoid losing his soul for as long as he could. Mentally, he began to ready himself to meet his loved ones that had preceded him in death. His mother, grandfathers, grandmothers, uncles, aunts, one ex-wife, but secretly he thought she had a better chance of ending up with his new employer. He was ready to meet his maker. Hopefully He would have some good ideas how to save his soul.
A loud thud jarred his thoughts, then the sound of burnt steel dragging on rocks. The bright light dimmed itself and Ramon became aware of his surroundings. The limo came to stop on the side of a large warehouse. The warehouse looked all but abandoned. Windows broken out, dark skeletal framed building. He had seen such warehouses in urban areas, blighted by the current economy. A faint light and boisterous voices from inside made it crystal clear that the warehouse was occupied.
The door to the limo opened. A young scantily clad girl stood by the open door. She held her hand out to assist him from the limo. Ramon refused the assistance, the young girl’s lips showed disapproval. The young girl was beautiful. By all appearances she was much younger than his daughter, Allison. He couldn’t help but notice a small name tag pinned to what little clothing passed as her blouse. The name tag read Lolita. Lolita grabbed his hand and began pulling him toward the front of the warehouse. The more he struggled to free his hands from her grip, the tighter the grip would get. She was determined to lead him to the front of the warehouse, and no amount of protest would dissuade her.
Lolita released his hand once she got him to the front of the warehouse. She puckered her lips, expecting a juicy kiss, her blue, come hither eyes, sparkle. Her lips went from puckered to pouty when no kiss was forthcoming. She flounced her hair and said, “your loss,” before she skipped away.
There were three brown trucks with a large UPS symbol parked in front of a dimly lit loading dock. A man dressed in German SS officer uniforms attended each truck. Red and white bands with a black swastika armband completed the uniforms. Expressionless, emotionless people being unloaded from the trucks if you could call them people. You could see right through them as if they weren’t even there. Not a one of them had any spark left in their eyes. A Roman Centurion prodded each zombie-like person along with an odd looking pitchfork. along Roman centurion with a odd looking pitchfork. The SS officers checked names off a list they carried on a clipboard.
The centurions barking orders “get a move on, the sooner you get tagged and photographed the sooner you can get back to your loved ones.” Letting out a gruff, loud obnoxious laugh he turned to the centurion prodding the poor pathetic wrench behind him and said, “it’s like this during every recession. We get more souls seeking the easy way to fame and fortune. Hell I’m on triple overtime.”
The other centurion poked his charge with his pitchfork before replying, “I was here during the depression era up above. Now those were the good old days. We had an excess of souls. Awe such sweet memories.”
The third centurion piped in. “almost as much fun as crucifying Christians or throwing them to the lions. Talk about the good old days.”
Ramon stumbled on a rock, making a clanking sound. Soon all eyes were on him, except the eyes of the poor souls. The German SS officer nearest him took the monocle from his left eye, revealing an eyeless socket, and motioned the new guest to approach him. There are a limited amount of choices available to you when a dead SS officer orders you to come to him. You can either pretend you didn’t see the order, not recommended. Or follow the order. Ramon, unaware of either choice, looked over his shoulder hoping the officer was pointing at someone else. Soon a Roman centurion was escorting him to the officer, weird looking pitchfork pressed against his back. Ramon looked at the side of the large brown truck. A huge yellow UPS symbol was painted on the side, followed by the words Undead Paid 4 Souls.
The SS officer had a nose like a broken beak, thin white lips, and sockets where his eyes once belonged. Eyeing Ramon from head to toe, and eyeing him once again, the officer looked at his list. Huffed and eyed him head to toe for the third time. Without saying a word he clicked his heels together and wheeled to turn. Goose-stepping his way to the other officers, they were no longer counting souls and had taken an interest in what was happening at the first truck. The officers began an animated debate. The head of one of the officers fell off during the debate. They stopped long enough to re-attach the head. Ramon snickered when they attached the head backwards at first. With all heads attached, the debate ended and the SS officer returned. Studying the list one last time, he placed the clipboard to his side. “You are not on das list. You have not been paid for. However, they are vaiting for you at das big house. Transportation has been arranged,” he said pointing to the only vehicle other than the brown trucks, that could pass as transportation. It was a World War Two Panzer tank, gun turret and all. It isn’t wise to look at a very dead SS officer like he has lost his mind, but sometimes it can’t be helped. Ramon looked at the very dead SS officer like he had lost whatever was left of his mind. He was not going to get into a German tank after the limo fiasco. The SS officer’s eye sockets turned red with fire and his mouth opened releasing a smell that could kill a puppy. Ramon gagged and walked over to the evil implement of destruction. Thinking some fools never learn.

Chapter 2- Welcome to my Hell

2010-12-29T15:58:00.003-06:00

I decided to add a few more rough chapters of my latest WIP.
I have about 14 beta-readers that I email rough draft chapters to as I complete them. They each look forward to the chapters. I don't know how many chapters I am going to post.
If you want to get added to the beta-reader list send me an E-mail (I never get E-mails from here, but I thought I would make the offer) Be the first to ask to ne a beta-reader from here and I will mention you somehow in an upcoming chapter.

Chapter Two A Lesson on Thelma and Louise

Hollywood would have us believe a car will fall nose first when free-falling from a deep cliff, a la Thelma and Louise. If you don’t believe Hollywood special effects engineers, just take any fundamental course in physics and it will agree, the weight of the engine alone will force even the heaviest automobile to adjust its trajectory and fall nose first.
Well, I’m here to say, forget all you have learned in physics for the limo left the cliff at full speed and flew straight out; there was no frantic free fall down to his doom, the limo flew out, parallel to the canyon floor and hovered motionless in mid-air.
Ramon glanced at the driver in the rearview mirror; it was a tossup which was more frightening, the fire red eyes or the pasty white smile- the driver was having a good time tormenting the poor defenseless unpublished author.
One look through the darkened window at the emptiness below created a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, the laws of physics were unchallengeable; an object in motion tends to stay in motion. Once the law of gravity caught up with the motionless limo, it would fall nose first into the emptiness of the canyon floor below, just as the Hollywood special effects engineers would have you believe and the would-be writer would be squished pie. His wife, daughter, and fluffy white dog would be required to return the substantial windfall of cash back to its rightful owner. I suppose the rightful owner would take it back himself and leave the writer’s family to hire a specialized team of body extracting experts to retrieve the flattened remains of his once loveable person with a large pancake turner, rolling him up like a fake Persian rug and dropping him into a casket for identification and burial.
The driver, obviously unaware of the laws of gravity, flicked a switch on the dashboard and the lightless void below lit up like a Christmas tree. Ok. Perhaps more like a small, well-lit runway. The driver turned around and presented the writer with another of his re-assuring smiles as he clicked off the ignition and the engine went, not to sound like a pun, dead silent. The driver’s smile widened, uncovering a ghost toothed grin. He opened the sun roof. Ramon didn’t know there was a sun roof, it was so crusted in grime, but the driver opened the sun roof, pulled a lever and gave an eerie wave goodbye to his passenger as he ejected through the sunroof and parachuted to the canyon. The limo began its descent into the unknown depths below.
Ramon reached for his scientific calculator to calculate the rate of descent and the velocity of the impact. Alas, he didn’t have it. While attempting to pick his insides up from the limo floor and pry his face from the dirt encrusted window separating the driver and the passenger, he made a quick estimate- 3 seconds.
Strange things happen to a person when they are facing certain doom. In Ramon’s case, the limo appeared to be falling in slow motion, floating peaceably through a miasma of sunlight, like a feather drifting to its demise in a roaring brush fire. He closed his eyes and hoped for a swift end. He counted seconds- one – two- three…twenty. Ramon opened one eye. The limo turned horizontal again and Ray felt a slight bump. Pulling himself off the floor of the limo, he peered once again out the windows into a bumpy pool of cooled lava. Not quite speechless, he uttered but one word. “Wow.”
But his excitement was short-lived as the limo doors opened and another ghostly driver plunged into the front seat of the limo throwing an object into the passenger seat as he did so. Although dressed the same as the previous driver and possessed of the same haunting red eyes, this driver was shorter and reminded Ramon or the Roman Nero in the history books. The object in the front seat was a fiddle.
The new chauffeur began navigating the uneven lava highway, bumping and grinding with each oddly shaped mound of lava. Ramon, now accustomed to the convulsive nature of riding in the limo, took each bump and grind in stride even though his usual lower back pain and arthritic knee were singing overtime. The limo picked up speed jumping higher and higher with every boulder of lava it encountered.
Usually, the act of being thrown around in the back of a ghost driven limo as it traverses down a highway of lava rocks would not be conducive to the mind wandering however, in Ramon’s case, he couldn’t help it. It dawned on him that the opera music had not stopped once during the entire ordeal and had even increased in volume and the static had dissipated. It also occurred to him that he had only asked to be published, he had not asked for fame. The devil could have tricked him and might only publish his book and take his soul without the usual requisites of fame and fortune. Ramon hoped his wife, daughter and fluffy white dog would be able to find a loop hole to get him out of this mess and keep his soul intact.
Whilst day-dreaming the bald headed man failed to notice the diminishing light. The limo was driving in total darkness with the exception of one very dim headlight. Peering through the bare light, a large object jutted out before them, a humongous mountain, and the driver gave no indication he was slowing down or stopping. In fact, the driver had started a small fire in the front seat of the limo and livened up the opera music with his fiddle while driving with his feet. Now, whether the driver was not aware of the mountain looming in front of the limo or if he just didn’t care because he had been dead for centuries anyway, didn’t really matter because it was clear, he was not going to slow down. For the last few hours of his life, Ramon’s life had been held together by a thread and that fragile thread was about to snap. At least, at this point, he may still have his soul. Perhaps St. Peter would overlook the fact he had sold his soul by mistake if he had not actually formalized the deal. Of course, he would also need to overlook the fact that he seldom went to church and spent his Sunday mornings watching football and playing online bingo, either of which could be a sin unless you cheered for the Saints.
Nero collected his fiddle and bow and jumped into an open window when the fire he set in the front seat began to burn out of control. He pushed a button with the end of his bow causing the engine to instantly rev to maximum RPMs while the accelerator locked into position, floored. Then the Nero ghoul posed in a sinister smile, waved with his pinky and jumped out the window as the limo headed full throttle into the side of the mountain. Were the psychiatric community to study the effects of a subject facing eminent death multiple times within a few short hours, they could use Ramon as an example. Quite simply, it was very tiring. Getting published just wasn’t worth the stress He had already posted several chapters of each book on his blog and most visitors loved his work. Why couldn’t he be satisfied with that?
“Come on you diabolical old man. Get it over with. Don’t make it any worse on me than you already have. Kill me already. Find some other fool to write your damned biography,” he screamed. As an afterthought he added, “If you should see clear to give me back my soul, I would appreciate it.”
Apparently his new employer had different plans; the limo punched through the wall of the mountain like a pencil point punches through a piece of paper. Ramon was not going to die…yet, but the night was young. Ramon had been hired to write a biography and write a biography he would do.
After surviving yet another harrowing death defying experience, Ramon was ready to follow all the recommendations of the safety commission. One of those recommendations would most certainly be to not punch a hole in the side of a dormant volcano and most especially not one that isn’t exactly dormant. And here he was, teetering on a small path inside a bubbling volcano, the limo continuing along a very thin path only wide enough for a mini cooper. The bowels of the volcano awaited. Ramon smelled burning rubber, his eyes tearing from the intense heat. Lava lapped at the windows like wild dogs pouncing on their prey and the paint on hood blistered. A lake of red hot molten rock surrounded him. He thought- things could not get any worse. Never tempt your luck, Ramon. The limo’s engine sputtered, choked, and died- in the middle of a magma ocean and slowly began to descend, the frightened wanna be author trapped inside.

December 2, 2010

2010-12-02T15:17:00.001-06:00

I have been derelict when it comes to adding a poem. Sorry but my current WIP is chewing up a lot of my time.

WHY SHOULD I

If I don't believe in miracles,
why should I believe in you?

If I don't understand unkind hearts,
why should you see it through?

If I've never seen a good good-bye,
What difference will you make?

If the only loves I've had were wrong,
why should yours be the one I take?

If I don't believe in miracles,
why should I believe in you?
If I've never seen a love go right,
why should you be true?

November 24, 2010

2010-11-24T00:32:00.002-06:00

Let me know if you want a few more chapters of Welcome to my Hell posted.
I am going back and forth on the idea. One minute its yes the next minute its no.

You decide.

Chapter One:Welcome to my Hell, the authorized biography of the Prince of Darkness

2010-11-15T00:52:00.005-06:00

This is only the rough draft, and as such it is subject to many revsions. I only post it here to get some sort of feedback. Please let me know what you think.

Chapter One Informal Agreement

The vicious bright orb in the sky beat down mercilessly on Ramon’s strawberry red hairless head, salt water rivers rushing down his cheeks and back. His unprotected skin screamed in defeat, the moisture sucked up into the dry atmosphere like a mosquito on the arm of a defenseless child in a humid southeastern fall. He checked the time on his watch; It was comforting that no matter what happened in his life, he could always look on his wrist and see what time it was, steady and trustworthy, something he could never find in another human being. He had been sitting on this feverish bench outside terminal six of the Sky Harbor International Airport in Phoenix, Arizona for over an hour, waiting for the promised transportation from his new employer. He stared out over the clear, hot desert sky, the ground shimmering in the sunlight. Mr. Scratch was late. Terminal six was isolated, no other terminals in sight, no other planes in sight, and no airline workers in sight. The only thing visible to his eyes was a small, dilapidated terminal behind him, the skeletal Sky Captain with the zombie eyes now gone and the greasy glass doors locked up tight and a pitiful dirt road in front of the bench winding lazily into the setting sun.
Two thoughts dominated Ramon’s heat scrambled brain. Why had the information desk at the airport laughed when he mentioned terminal six? Mr. Scratch had specifically stated terminal six. Obviously, despite the receptionists’ insistence that Sky Harbor Airport only had four terminals, she was woefully uneducated. The second question puzzling Ramon on this fine summer afternoon in Arizona was; where is his new boss?
Following eighteen months of unemployment, Ramon was desperate to replenish his bank account, preferably using his heretofore unused talent, author. True, some may not call it a talent, some have used harsher terms, and other agents had simply sent form letter rejections. Ramon hung onto the hope that once the down-turned economy improved, his great stories would be snatched up and become best-sellers, changing his family forever. He had daydreamed of cruising around the world, of driving a Cadillac, or paying for the best college for his daughter but the truth of the matter was, sometimes great stories, and they are great stories, cling helplessly to a piece of paper, never to be seen by the public.
But when the phone call had come from Mr. Scratch to write his biography, including a very large advance, perhaps Ramon’s mind was a bit befuddled, you couldn’t blame him really.
Last week, after his wife, daughter, and dog had retired to bed, the house silent about him except for his wife’s blusterous snores, the wind howling against the windows and the gentle dripping of the toilet, Ramon threw himself one heck of a pity party. It was a dandy which included a gallon size Diet Pepsi Max and a case of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, Diet because Ramon is diabetic and concessions do need to be made. He was sending yet another barrage of queries on each of his books and had just received an offer to publish his book. His heart skipped a beat- ok, not really because his pacemaker wouldn’t let that happen, but you get the idea. He started to jump out of his chair and run to his wife with this fortuitous news flash when it dawned on him, I should read the fine print. That’s when he saw it. All he had to do was send in $5,000 and his book would be published, he would be a self-published author. He thought, if I had $5,000 I wouldn’t need to be published. Buried in self pity, he whispered under his breath, barely even a whisper, perhaps even mouthing, did sound really come out of his mouth? “I would sell my soul to the devil for a chance to be published.” Once saying it, he looked around, surprised that he would dare utter such words after his very strongly religious upbringing. He sat there, in shock and waited but it seemed as if his utterance had not been overheard and he ate his last Peanut Butter Cup, gulped the last of the Pepsi, and wandered up to bed.
The phone rang early the next morning, his wife not even off to work yet, he reached over and picked up the cell phone- unknown number. Another creditor, he mumbled but answered the phone anyway, his eyes groggy, his dreams still clear in his mind.
“My name is Mr. Scratch, Ramon. My employer would like to hire you to write his biography. It needs to be very hush-hush, you must tell no one. My employer has endured quite a lot of bad press lately, in the past two thousand years, and he desires an unknown author to write the truth. Are you interested, Ramon?”
Ramon had been dreaming again of a publisher begging him to let them publish his books and he mumbled, “Sure, whatever.” Then he went back to dreamland and dreamed of big cars, the New York Times Best Selling List, and even bigger paychecks. A smile could be seen on his once innocent face.
The next morning Ramon checked his on-line balance to see if he had enough money to put gas in the car today or his wife would be driving to work on fumes. He looked, closed his eyes tightly and looked again. A substantial deposit had been made to his account. A quick call to the bank confirmed it. That’s when Ramon remembered his strange dream last night about writing a biography and the phone rang- unknown caller.
“Good morning to you Ramon. I believe you have noticed we have already deposited your advance. I believe you should be able to fill the car up with gas, barely. The price of gas is so devilish these days.” Ramon pulled the phone from his ear as a hearty guffaw exploded from the speaker. “Now, down to business, Mr. R. A helicopter will pick you up from the field behind your house in Springfield, Missouri in approximately 30 minutes. No need to pack anything; all will be provided. It is of upmost importance that you not tell a soul,” another explosion of laughter followed, “Forgive my pun Mr. R., you won’t even need your cell phone or your computer where you are going and the boss would be very displeased if you were to bring them and we don’t want to displease Mr. L, now do we?”
“Uh, No, Sir. I think not Sir,” stuttered Ramon.
“Good. Good. Now, as I was saying, the helicopter will take you to an unknown airport where you will be transported on board a private jet for your final destination, Phoenix. Upon arrival, proceed to Terminal Six of Sky Harbor Airport. The location is rather obscure, just keep walking East in the terminal and enter through the red door to terminal 6. A limo will pick you up at Terminal 6 at noon and transport you to your final destination. You may tell your wife and daughter only of a potential job offer which will keep you away for perhaps several days. You can tell the whole story to the fluffy white puppy dog, she has no soul to steal anyway and I promise, she will keep your secret. Well, Mr. R, are we clear?”
“Yes, Sir, I think so Sir,”
“Good, I look forward to meeting you.”
“Uh, Mr. Scratch, Sir.”
Click. That was it. No discussion. No mention of my soul. No mention of fame.
Noon had come and passed. It was now nearing one P.M. and still there was no sign of a Limo. Ramon felt the cooling relief of a gust of hot wind but pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his face when it was followed by a push of dust and he thought, Great! All I need now is a dust storm to brighten my day.
Ramon looked out over the horizon and did indeed spy a dust storm. A whirl of dark dust spun up from the desert floor and within the depths of the maelstrom, Ramon was sure he spied two crimson spheres glowing. He gulped, his usually placid pacemaker springing to life, and fled to the glass doors behind him. Pounding with two fists, he screamed for help as the storm slithered closer. The doors remained tightly closed. He turned around to face his destiny like a man, trembling, curled up on the ground, and thinking of his wife, daughter, and the fluffy white dog.
The whirlwind sped menacingly in the direction of its target. As it neared, an eerie sound emanated from the storm, a chugging-coughing-rattling sound of a person gasping for air or a car choking and stuttering and in dire need of a tune-up. A lone headlight peered from within the dust. Ramon stood there, bewitched, unable to break away as a sleek, ebony limo erupted and the perilous gale dispersed. As the limo approached, Ramon observed the limo was not as impressive as it first appeared, it was not aging gracefully. The limo chugged weakly to the end of the pavement, sputtered briefly and then died. A moment later, a black, ominous cloud burst forth above the limo, casting a gloomy shadow on the pavement and limo below. The limo door eased open, a white, boney hand grasping the window before the driver emerged wearing a blood-red uniform with black epaulets and a gold TPD embossed on the sleeve, he lifted his hand, pointing a skeletal finger at Ramon and motioned to the reluctant employee as he opened the passenger door. Ramon shuffled to the limo, avoiding looking at its frightening driver, and sat down on the tattered, dusty rear seat. There were no door handles on the inside and a thick, grimy window separated the rear seat from the front seat. The ghoul slammed the door and sat into the driver’s seat. Ramon was trapped, his nightmare only beginning. The terminal vaporized in front of his eyes. The ghost-like driver turned the key but nothing happened. He left the vehicle and looked under the hood, wiggled something, screamed something in an unfamiliar language and slammed the hood shut again. Ramon looked frantically for a way out of the vehicle until the ghoul sat down again and turned the key. The limo jerked, spurted, coughed and then chugged back to life. Long boney fingers moved the gearshift into gear, and peered into the rear-view mirror again, the bone chilling red of his eyes searing into Ramon’s heart and sending icy tendrils down his spine. The ghoul turned his head around, gave Ramon a devious grin and gunned the engine, darting the car back and forth and throwing his passenger around while he frantically searched for the seat belts. There were none.
The tempest encircled the limo again and the driver turned the radio on to an opera all the time station mostly interrupted by an ear grating static. Ramon glanced at his watch. It had stopped at 1:11 PM, the very moment the limo had arrived. A horrified look enveloped his countenance for the last vestige of stability in his life had forsaken him.
Listening to the opera, being tossed back and forth in the seat, and viewing the scenery through the dizzying storm, Ramon came to the conclusion: This ride was sure to be the ride to hell.
Through the twirling dust, Ramon observed a chain link fence looming ahead and approaching quickly. He squeezed his eyes shut, praying the driver would stop the limo in time, then cracked his right eye open just a touch as the driver plowed through the fence without even flinching, pressed the gas pedal to the floor, jumped over a curb and entered the freeway, followed by squeaking brakes, frantic swerves and one fingered salutes, all ignored by the ghost driver as he did a quick right turn on the Maricopa freeway. The dearly departed driver had nothing to fear, he was already dead. Ramon, on the other hand, was terrified.
The reluctant passenger said his prayers and attempted to bury his head in the sand for the rest of the trip, visualizing the headlines, ‘Unknown occupant found dead in a dilapidated limo, only the bones of the driver found.’ The limo merged onto the 10, leaving a tangled wreck of cars behind and then flowed peacefully onto the 17.
Aside from the gyrating earth enveloping the limo, the chaotic static and arias exuding from the dashboard, the sweltering heat, and the creepy driver, the rest of the drive went smoothly and Ramon, still frantically checking his watch out of a long established habit, finally drifted into a fretful sleep.
A prophetic nightmare awoke the bald man and he gazed out the filthy windows of the limo, the mile markers whizzing past at an alarming speed. Snoring in the front seat left no doubt, the driver was dozing at the wheel. He pounded at the glass separating the driver from the passenger to no avail, peering through the windshield, freeway 17 ended dead ahead and the limo must turn left or right to merge unto 40. Assured of his impending doom, Ramon closed his eyes and formed his final thoughts of his wife, his daughter, and his fluffy white dog. A sharp turn to the right flung him to the other side of the limo, depositing his decrepit knees painfully against the door, accompanied by the resounding salutations of honking horns. The limo continued east on 40 and took the 89 junction toward Sunset Crater Volcano National Monument.
Ramon, now wide awake, trembled as the limo veered off the highway onto a winding forest service road and picked up speed. Understand, it is one thing to pick up speed on a winding forest service road and quite another to pick up speed on a winding forest service road that ends with a cliff. Ramon was facing the latter. The condemned man, destined to have his life flash before his eyes, could only worry about whether his wife, daughter, and fluffy white dog had enough life insurance on him and wonder if the body needed to be found before they could collect. The already dead ghost driver revved the engine and pushed the gas pedal to the floor, and headed straight for the cliff.

November 11, 2010

2010-11-11T23:26:00.002-06:00

Poem for the week.

You

When I thought all my dreams had been dreamed,
and all my memories seemed to bring me down.
You came out of the sunset and scattered sunshine all around.
When my heart was all in ashes and piled upon the floor.
Your smile filled my skies like a rainbow and healed up every sore.

When it seemed my pain would last forever, and my sorrow never end,
you touched my mind with your bright smiling eyes and gently called me friend.

October 31, 2010

2010-11-01T00:03:00.002-05:00

Poem for the week.

I don’t want to think about the future.
I don’t want to talk about the past.
I don’t want to sit and question
“Is this the one that’s going to last?”

I don’t want to try to own your heart,
to keep it securely locked out of sight.
I don’t want to tie you down, I would
rather you flew like a soaring kite.

I don’t want to be the one you feel forced to
depend on always being there.
I don’t want to be the one where you feel
smothered and panic for lack of air.

I want to be a meadow, a comfort, a thought
that brings a smile.
And when you dare to dream, may you
dream that maybe we will last awhile.

Who knows? With time, I’ll be the whisper
you’ve been waiting years to hear.
Who knows with time maybe the thought of me
not being in your life might bring a tear.

I want us to smell the roses, take it step by
step, see just what today might hold in store.
If we are still together after many
tomorrows, only then do we dare to ask for more.

October 27, 20010

2010-10-28T00:29:00.001-05:00

It’s no secret that I have always been a dreamer. I see things as they should be, and not how they are in reality. I have been this way for as long as I can remember. That and the fact I grew up invisible helped define who I am. However, in real life dreamers and those that shun reality don’t make it too far in today’s society. Lately I have been hit head-on with a dream shattering dose of reality. My snug little world has been torn asunder, and I am having trouble with dealing with it.
I started my profession in 1969 as a means to earn spending money as I forged myself through school. I only intended on staying at this profession for a short while. I knew after school I would make my mark on the world. I graduated but remained at my job until a competent replacement could be found. For some reason the duties of my job came natural to me, I was a savant. It really didn’t take long to find a willing body with enough fortitude to be trained at my duties, so I was free to pursue my dream of making a mark in the world. Problem was I really enjoyed what I was doing; it gave me a sense of accomplishment. I was young, I still had so many years ahead of me to make my mark.
One year became two, two years became ten, and ten years became forty. I had spent forty years in a profession I had only planned on spending two years in and still no mark on the world. Towards the middle of my fortieth year I began writing my first book, Tenebrae, I knew at the time that book would be my mark. It is such a great story, there is no way professionals in the publishing community could ignore such a gem. Wrong! I was so naïve to think all you need is a great story and the world would beat a path to your door. See that’s the dreamer in me.
Rejection after rejection came. I kept hearing from those who volunteered to read my book how great it was. My dream was still intact, for the time being.
Dreams have a way of altering one’s mind. I got the silly notion that if Tenebrae wasn’t going to make my mark on the world that I would write o book that would. The Last Chance was born. Surely this would make my mark. Wrong! I still get rave reviews for both books. I still can’t see why professionals in the publishing business can’t see what other readers see. I have even started writing the sequel to Tenebrae, but I have no illusions that this will be the book that leaves a mark on the world. It is just another book that no one will ever read.
I still query Tenebrae, I still get nothing but rejections. I still hear nothing but good reviews about the chapters I have posted here. But I don’t dream anymore. I no longer see things as they should be. I see things in the harsh nakedness of the real world.
I know I am not alone in this wilderness of vanquished dreams. I am not the only one fighting a losing battle to hold onto some vestige of dignity. I struggle daily to keep at least one dream alive.
There is a great song from Man of Lamancha, to dream the impossible dream, to fight the unbeatable foe. I don’t know about you, but the impossible dream is still elusive. To me the unbeatable foe is the economy, and it is kicking my butt.
Well, there you have the ranting of a reformed dreamer who has all but given up on making his mark on the world.
Tonight, when you wish upon that star, wish a wish for me,

kidnapped Chapter 19

2010-10-23T01:12:00.005-05:00

As always first chapter is posted on the August 25th page.
First Chapter of The Last Chance is posted on the July 5th page.

I cannot post complete books in the web, as I am still trying to get both books published. Literary agents and publishers frown on those kind of things.

This is the last chapter of Tenebrae I am going to post, however, that doesn't mean it has to be the last chapter you read. I will be more than happy to continue posting chapters to individual readers via email. I will also be more than happy to continue posting The Last Chance via email.

This is my email. raballard@mchsi.com or rbo1948@yahoo.com
(sorry looks like you either have to write it down or go to the email link in my profile. All you do is scrool down to the profile and click on the see complete profile, the link is there.)

I hope to hear from you, both books are worthy reads. Sara gets into so much trouble in upcoming chapters. And Horace continues to live through history of the 20th century in The Last Chance.

I will either continue my serial or start bloging about random thoughts. I guess I could leave it to my readers what they would like. So leave suggestions in a comment or email. (I will still post a poem on Sundays, until I run out)

Chapter Nineteen-Dim, Wit, and Fluffy the Near-sighted Sea Monster

Fluffy wished he had better eyesight. He wanted to see the love of his life a little clearer so he could save her from the storm. Unfortunately, his sea monster health insurance did not cover vision.
Fluffy suspected sorcery to be the cause of the sudden storm. Having once been the pet of Queen Hillary, he knew all about sorcery. If it hadn’t been for her sweet daughters, Abigail and Elizabeth, he would still be suffering from the evil antics of the Queen and her other daughters.
Fluffy rushed to the object of his affection as a huge wave threatened to smash against her. She was infested with those fragile, bad tasting humans again. A small child stood on the top of future girlfriend. Fluffy cursed his bad eyesight. It looked like Elizabeth, his childhood playmate, and rescuer. He blinked once, twice, but it was her. “It’s amazing; she hasn’t aged a day since she rescued me when she was 13. She must be a very powerful sorceress.” This left Fluffy with a terrible dilemma. Should he save his dearest love from the storm, or should he save the person that had saved him from the terrible fate the Queen and her twin daughters had planned for him?
#
“Shiver me timbers, mates, this be one nasty storm. All ye landlubbers best be tying yourself up to anything that ain’t taped down, we will be a riding this storm out. Pray to the powers that we don’t get crushed by the….” Percy stopped giving his distress orders as he looked towards Sara, actually behind Sara, his face eschewed in fear and terror. “Avast, Sara me hearty, don’t look behind ye, looks as if we have company.” Clammy tentacles rose from the churning ocean. Sara’s eyes widened only moments before the ten foot, slimy tentacle wrapped around her midsection tightly. She tried everything humanly possible to wrench free from her captor but there was nothing she could do. The tentacles wrapped tighter and refused to let her go. Pleading for help with her eyes and with a despairing look on her face, she managed a faint wave good-bye with her pinky finger as she was pulled into the briny deep and to her impending doom. Banned from crying by the pirate code, the water flowing from Percy’s eyes was merely rain from the storm.
#
Cedric, duct taped to the mast, watched in horror as his meal ticket disappeared into the abyss of the ocean, clutched by those horrific tentacles. He would have been paid handsomely when he presented Sara to his employers but his dreams of fame and fortune had just vanished into the ocean. He had managed to steal a small article from her backpack. If he survived this cursed storm, he would rush to his employers with the stolen article. Hopefully, it would convince them of Sara’s untimely demise and he would still get a healthy compensation for his troubles.
Chase screamed as he saw Sara sink beneath the waves, remembering the time he had nearly drowned at the age of eight. Aware he was about to die, he thought of the day he came home from a job and found his wife and five year old daughter gone. His eyes welled up with tears. Chase didn’t know about the pirate code forbidding tears.
#
She was a goner. All her hopes and dreams for saving her mother vanished when the tentacles wrapped around her. Her only remaining question was whether she would die from drowning or as the sea monster’s dinner. She wiggled and writhed and tried to free herself, finally stopping her struggle as she gazed into the gentle, affectionate, puppy-like eyes of the sea monster.
The sea monster was not eating her. He was talking with a couple of brightly colored dolphins
Sara had seen dolphins before, at Sea World. They were very cute and very intelligent, but none of the ones she had seen were red or midnight blue as these dolphins were. The red dolphin looked at Sara and then continued his conference with the monster. Finally, the chatter ceased and the dolphins turned to look at Sara.
The midnight blue dolphin looked at her and said, “He says you’re Elizabeth. He is sure about it.”
Surprised the dolphin could talk and that she could understand him, Sara was speechless for one of the few times in her life. She could only stare at the dolphin and hope it would not be considered rude.
“Pardon my friend’s impoliteness. I am Dim,” said the red dolphin. “My rude friend here is Whit and this big galoot standing next to us, is Fluffy. Please allow me to continue where Mr. Rudeness here left off. Fluffy has mistaken you for a young girl he used to play with when he was a young chap, at least 20 years ago. We have been attempting to convince him that you could not be the same girl because you would have aged in 20 years.”
Whit chimed in, “Fluffy will not be swayed. He is convinced you are Elizabeth. He is very stubborn, as are most sea creatures- except dolphins, of course.”
“Well, my mother’s name is Elizabeth but she never mentioned playing with a sea monster when she was a child. Come to think of it, she never mentioned anything about her childhood.”
Whit and Dim returned to Fluffy to confer, both of them glancing over their dorsal fins at Sara.
“We are terribly sorry, but if you don’t mind us prying into your background, we really can’t find another way around it. Fluffy is insistent. Is your mother, Elizabeth, any relationship to that evil Queen Hillary?” asked Dim.
“I regret to say, I am Queen Hillary’s granddaughter.” Whit and Dim moved away from her. “My mother is the Queen’s daughter, but she isn’t mean like the Queen. Neither am I!”
Dim and Whit conferred with Fluffy again. Fluffy came up to Sara and rubbed his tentacles in her hair. “Fluffy is very happy to meet you, if you can tell,” said Dim.
As a sea horse the size of a refrigerator swam by, Sara smiled at Fluffy and said, “I’m happy to meet him too. Do you know why I can breathe underwater? I’ve never done it before!”
Dim answered, “All sea creatures can breathe under water.”
“I am not a sea creature, see,” she said as she held up her hands.
Dim and Whit swam around her, “You are right, you are not a sea creature,” said Whit.
“What is that on your palm, Sara?” said Dim.
She hid her hands behind her back, “It’s nothing, just a scar.”
“Please let me see your palm again, Sara,” asked Dim. She reluctantly showed him her palm. Dim peered at her palm with great interest. He turned her palm over and over with his dorsal fin. “Whit, come here and see this, come get a load of the star on her palm.”
“Come on Dim, it’s not as if we haven’t seen a star fish before.”
“Not star fish, you dim-whit. I said star, I swear you never pay attention to me.”
“Ok, don’t get your flippers in a tizzy. May I please see your palm, Sara, before Dim gets all upset? He overreacts to the simplest of things.” Sara placed her palm straight out so Whit could see it. “Oh, my, it’s true, she is the one.” Fluffy continued stroking her with his tentacle.
“What’s wrong with the star on my palm?” She looked at her palm. “It’s red, I’ve never seen it red before, what does red mean?”
“There are stars and there are STARS. Technically there is nothing wrong with your palm, your grace. Whit and I are humbled to be in your presence, that’s all.”
Sara exclaimed, “Ok, so now you know the truth, but I’m not bad, I promise!”
“Dim, you should explain to Her Majesty about the prophecy,” said Whit, “I never paid attention in Sea Creature Prophecy Class 101.”
“Yes, Sara, you see all of us sea creatures are under a curse, an evil spell. We used to be able to breathe on land and in the sea. Many had homes on land and a few were close friends to the royal family. When Queen Amelia married Count Doldunt, all that ended. The Count, being very evil and jealous of the friendships between Amelia and the sea creatures, convinced our dear Queen to turn against us, her loyal subjects, and true friends. An ancient prophecy suggests, let me think, oh yes, ‘Two thousand years alone in the Sea but a scarlet star will make them free.’”
“We are so honored to be here Your Majesty and witness this momentous occasion,” said Whit, bowing to Sara.
“Well, that is all really cool. But, I’m not the person you think.”
“It would explain why you can breathe under water.”
“Well, even if I were the prophecy person, which I don’t really believe, what I really need right now is to get to Tenebrae. My mother was kidnapped and they are holding her there. Can Fluffy take me there? That is where the ship was headed when Fluffy st…rescued me.”
The dolphins spoke with Fluffy.
“Fluffy refuses to take you to the Queen’s land, he is afraid the Queen will capture him again. The Queen’s law prohibits sea creatures from nearing her lands.
“We can take you to an island. From there you can continue your journey.”
“I’m not sure how I will do what you ask, but if the opportunity ever arises, I will certainly release you. However, I’m not sure you are right about me being the prophecy child, though.”
“Well, we are convinced. Are you ready Your Majesty?”
“Yes, I am.” She put one arm around Dim’s dorsal fin and the other arm around Whit’s. The two dolphins were speeding towards the southwest. Sara’s exhaustion finally overcame her and she was fast asleep before they had traveled a few hundred feet.
She woke up as Dim prodded her with his bottle shaped nose.
“Sara, we have arrived. The beach is only a bit further. You must swim the rest of the way,” said Dim.
“We have tried to keep your pouch dry,” chimed in Whit as he handed her the backpack, which had been transported inside a very large clam.

kidnapped Chapter 18

2010-10-20T10:25:00.002-05:00

Chapter Eighteen- The North Wind Doesn’t Play Fair with Others
Sara looked over the rest of the crew. Cedric was there. She wasn’t sure if she should trust him. He seemed harmless enough and he wasn’t an amphibian but still, he gave her the creeps.
Standing on the other side of the pier was a very large man with a tattoo of a dragon on his arm. He was looking down at the water and didn’t look like he felt too well. He said his name was Chase. Sara stared at the dragon tattoo. Dragons are evil in all the stories I’ve read so he must be evil too. Besides, he gave her the creeps too.
Sara thought to herself, “I have developed a case of creepydudesaphobia.”
Chase was pacing up and down the pier and occasionally, looking in Sara’s direction and shaking his head in disgust and mumbling under his breath. Sara had no idea what she had done to offend him. Cedric, on the other hand was trying his best to get on Sara’s good side. Sara imagined him as a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He was just trying too hard.
“Isssn’t that a grand ssship, SSSara? Think about it SSSara, the two of usss sssailing the ocean blue together. I believe that we will become the bessst of friendsss.”
Sara thought of her real best friend, Tiffani. The last time she had seen her, she was in the garden at the White Star Manor. It seemed so long ago, but it had only been two days. “I am sorry Cedric, I wasn’t paying attention, what did you say?” Sara, of course, heard every word he said, but hoped he would take the hint and go away. She turned her head away from Cedric.
“That’sss ok SSSara, it don’t matter. I was just sssaying I was glad to meet you.”
“Sorry Cedric, I wasn’t paying attention again.”
Chase stopped pacing long enough to give Sara a sly smile. Obviously, he didn’t like Cedric very much either. The smile shocked Sara. Chase was creepy but, when he smiled, he reminded her of someone but she couldn’t recall who.
“Here comesss Percy and Bill,” exclaimed the lizard.
“It’s about time,” Sara thought to herself, as she turned to look in the direction the pirate was coming from. Sara’s jaw dropped, Percy was indeed walking towards them, but Sara couldn’t see anyone named Bill. All she could see was the large ogre that threw her out of the inn last night.
“Ahoy me maties,” said Percy.
Sara noticed Chase was now standing next to her. She tried moving over, but Cedric was standing on the other side. She was hemmed in by creepy dudes.
“We ready to go?” asked Chase, gruffly, “Staying in one place for too long gives me the willies. What’s with the ogre?”
Sara turned her head and gave Chase a harsh stare. He was certainly not being very polite, and the ogre looked like he could eat Chase in only one or two bites.
“Hey sis, don’t look at me that way. I don’ care for ogres, I don’ care for wizards, I care even less for teenage wizards.”
Sara turned red, not from embarrassment, but from anger. She started to say something, but thought better of it.
Chase continued, “Hey fancy smancy pirate, that ship of yours looks to be in bad shape. Are you sure it can take us all the way to Tenebrae?”
“Avast ye scurvy dog that ye be. It will be respect ye be paying this ol’ cap’n. If ye show disrespect to me again, I’ll be throwin’ ye overboard. Is that clear to ye, lily-livered landlubber?”
Chase answered, “I mean no disrespect Captain. I meant I am ready to leave, that’s all.” Sara turned to Chase and smiled. He glared at her.
Turning to Bill, the ogre, Percy exclaimed, “Aarrghh me hearty, looks as if we have one scallywag, one sprog, and one young lass that be going on this voyage with us.”
“Looks as if, Captain,” remarked Bill.
“Aye, let’s be runnin’ up the Jolly Roger and go on the account,” barked the pirate in rapid fire orders.
Bill, Cedric, Chase, and Sara stared at Percy. Not one of them understood what the pirate had said.
“Arrgghhh, why be ye all a standin’ there? A black spot on ye all.”
“Sorry Percy, we don’t understand,” said Chase.
“Shiver me timbers ye scurvy dogs. I said let’s be flyin’ the jack and be off. Arrrghhh ye landlubbers, let’s raise our flag and get on the ship. Now do ye understand?”
All three crew members nodded and they walked over to the large dilapidated ship anchored in the harbor.
“Avast ye squiffey’s, that grand vessel be not mine. Mine be on the starboard side.”
The crew members scurried along the pier in order to get to the starboard side. To a man, they were all overjoyed that the dilapidated ship was not the ship they would be sailing on. After reaching the starboard side, they all wished the dilapidated ship was the ship they would be sailing on. There was no way that the ship they saw before them could possibly be sea worthy. There were two by fours holding the back of the boat together, the mast was duct taped together. The sails had been repaired with staples and bailing wire. The rudder had been replaced with a hockey stick and there were huge teeth marks in the steering wheel. The ship looked like it came from the reject pile at Ships R Us. There was no way this ship would make it out to sea, let alone Tenebrae.
Chase was concerned, he needed to get Sara to his employers in Tenebrae, and he was weighing other options inside his mind.
Cedric was in the same predicament, his employers were also waiting for Sara.
Bill, on the other hand, could only wish the person he had sold the Rusty Anchor to was hiring now.
Percy followed behind his crew. “Ta Da,” he said as the crew got their first look at his not-so-grand ship. “Afore any of ye lily-livered landlubbers get the wrong idea about me ship, I be almost sure she be sea worthy.
Chase was the first to speak, “Captain, you can count me out. There is no way I would be caught dead on that heap of junk.”
Cedric started to speak when Percy retrieved papers from under his hat. “Avast ye scurvy dogs, need I be reminding ye of the fine print in the contracts ye all signed?” Percy pulled a magnifying glass out of his pocket and began to read the fine print. “Says here- ye all swore an oath to honor the pirate code of conduct. Soon as ye all signed your X on the contracts, ye scurvy dogs became pirates. I will not be goin’ over all the codes, twas your business to familiar yourself with them afore you made your mark. Ye all be pirates now, and as pirates, ye will all obey the code. If any one of ye be thinkin’ ye can back out now ye would be sightfully wrong. Ye would be considered as mutineers. The punishment for mutiny be a black spot on ye. If ye not be a knowin’ what a black spot be, well it means a journey to Davey Jones' Locker. Also, mutineers will not be seeing Fiddlers Green, tis the locker for your souls. Do I make meself clear?” No member of the crew dared move. “Good, it be time to shove off. Ye be ready Lass?”
Sara was not sure this is what she had signed up for, but she couldn’t let Chase or Cedric see her hesitation. She turned to the pirate and asked, “I am ready Percy. How long will it take to get to Tenebrae?”
“Well Lass, with calm seas, and no sea monster, the journey would be about two days.”
“Two days,” said Sara, forlorn.
“Aye,” stated the pirate. Turning to his new crew, the pirate started barking instructions. “Navigator Cedric, take up position in what’s left of the crow’s nest, set a course due south. First-Mate what’s-your-name, if ye be so kind as to untie us from the dock. After ye be finished, see to the riggings and the jib. Bill, it’ll be awhile afore we can cook anything, so start rowing us out to sea. Avast ye scurvy dogs, snap to them chores, afore I be takin’ the cat-o-nine tails to ye.”
All members of the crew snapped to attention, then went about their chores. Of course, not one of them knew exactly what their chore was.
“As for ye Lass, ye can come up an’ keep me company while I maneuver us out of the dock. Mind ye stay clear of me steering.”
Sara sat on a small bench to the right of Percy’s half eaten steering wheel, staring blankly out to the open seas. The pier was fading into the background. She was finally heading towards Tenebrae and rescuing her mother.
The seas were calm, too calm, and time dragged by. “Percy, why do you hate my grandmother?”
“Aye, Lass, that be a tale worth tellin’. See, me brother was Tenebrae’s best jester. There be none better, lass. One day he got a grand invitation for a command performance with the Queen. This be quite the honor, even if the Queen be an evil wench. The invitation also mentioned a grand bounty for the performance. Me brother had no choice, so he be acceptin’ Queen Hillary’s command. Mind ye Lass, I twernt there, I only heard the account of the performance from others. Hear tells that the performance was grand. The Queen be laughin’ and me brother be in rare form, that was up to the time your grandmother gave me brother a command.”
“What command did my grandmother give your brother?”
“Well, see, twasn’t the command that gave me brother the fits, twas what he done after the command.”
“I don’t understand, Percy.”
“Arrrgghhhh, lass, the command was for me brother to jump. The problem occurred when me brother came back down afore he was commanded. This brought the Queen a great displeasure. Me brother was thrown into Doldunt Prison that instant. He be there still, if he be not dead.”
“My grandmother is very evil, isn’t she?”
“Aye, she be all that.”
Sara sat in silence. The calm waters became hypnotic. Her eyes fluttered open and then closed and then open again. She was bored. She could barely keep her eyes open. “Excuse me Percy,” Sara said, interrupting Percy’s thoughts, “Is there any way we can get the boat to go faster? I am sorry, but I don’t think I can wait two days to start my mission.”
“Aye Lass, if this be any other season, the north wind does blow, any season but this one. The north wind would blow us to Tenebrae in less an a day. If ye be here last month, aye that be a north wind for the ages. Alas, lass, this taint the season.” Percy patted Sara on the top of her head and yelled up to Cedric. “Ahoy Cedric, keep a close eye out for any sea monsters, we be getting close to evil waters.”
Sara gazed at the calm, open water that surrounded the ship. Straining her eyes to see if she could see a glimpse of a sea monster, she thought, “If only they taught me how to use my magic to summon a northern wind.” Without warning she shouted, “Iratus Aquilo.” She was very surprised. She didn’t realize how she knew the magic words. She had no idea what she had just said.
Sara turned to see Percy’s shocked look.
Percy shouted, “Avast ye lily livered landlubbers, batten down the hatches, secure the main sails.” Percy motioned to Chase, “There be duct tape in the caboodle, bring as much as ye can bring. Double tape the mast. Cedric, ye best be a securin’ yourself best ye can. Bill, ye can stop rowin’, there be one doozey of a foul wind a blowin’ our way.” Percy turned to Sara. He was not happy.
“Won’t that help us Percy?” Sara lowered her head. “I think I just called for the north wind.”
“Aye ye did at that. There be one small problem Lass. If I recollect, a north wind be just plain aquilo. Ye just called for an angry north wind and that there be a completely different wind.”
Sara looked around her. The sky had changed from a perfect blue to a dark grey and, angry clouds appeared from out of nowhere. Lightning and thunder began unfurling their angry wrath upon the waters. A storm was brewing on the horizon. The ship stood in the path of the angry wind.
“Dontcha fret Lass, we be not a failin’ ye. For safekeepin’ ye should skedaddle below. Take your knap sack with ye. If me ship holds true, looks as if we will be in Tenebrae afore nightfall. Now, go on Lass, find something to hold onto below.”
#
A few hundred feet from the ship, a sea monster’s eyes widen. Fluffy was extremely nearsighted, but he could still see that a huge wave was about to swallow the odd looking sea monster. The same sea monster which had been an object of his affection ever since he first saw her. He had to save his love. Fluffy remembered the last time he tried to save his love from the clutches of the humans. It had turned ugly. He had no intention of eating any humans; after all, he was a vegetarian. But the humans just plopped into his mouth. There was nothing he could do about it. They tasted nasty.
Sara’s eyes widened as she saw the gigantic wave about to smash against the ship. She clasped

her backpack tightly. She could not afford to lose her backpack

October 17, 2010

2010-10-17T00:09:00.001-05:00

Poem for the week, this is a very short poem.

SEARCHING

When you're searching for the sun, but all you feel is rain.
When you're searching for some relief, but all you feel is pain.

When you finally find your happiness, but haven't got what it costs.
Turn to me, I will return all that you have lost.

kidnapped Chapter 17

2010-10-16T00:14:00.002-05:00

chapter 1 is posted on August 25th page. The Last Chance Chapter 1 is posted on July 5th

Chapter Seventeen- Court’s in Session, You’re Guilty so Confess.
In all of Jackson Roberts’ years of military service, he had never had an order that angered him as much as the order that had been hand delivered to him last night by the aide to the High Commander. The Commander didn’t even have the nerve to tell Jackson himself.
According to the aide, because of funding issues and the lack of progress, his troops were to be dissolved effective immediately.
As Jackson packed his bags, he pondered the orders he had received earlier in the day. The orders just didn’t make sense; it was pure madness. Jackson picked up his picture of the family at Splash Mountain and placed it gently in his case. He spent a few moments gazing at the picture and remembering this joyous time spent with his family. “At least Sara and Elizabeth are safe,” he thought. A shadow passed over the toliver stones in the wall.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the great Jackson Roberts,” a sinister voice came from behind him.
Jackson recognized the voice. He knew the toad behind the voice.
“You are getting careless in your old age, Jackson. I had no problem sneaking up on you. What’s wrong Jackson? Cat got your tongue?”
Jackson reached for his Laser Chronogram 6000 but before he could retrieve the weapon, Appleton lashed out his tongue and the poison found its intended victim. In a matter of seconds, Jackson lay on the floor of the cave, in poison induced sleep.
He awoke several hours later. Blindfolded, his hands and feet bound, his skin was numb and tingling from the effects of the poison. He was sure he was still in the cave but from the foul toad smell about him, he knew he was not alone.
“It appears our friend is awake,” a unrecognizable voice stated.
“Good, we have a few questions for our esteemed prisoner,” answered Appleton. Jackson felt a hard, slimy slap against his face. “Do we have your attention now, Mr. Roberts?” Jackson could only nod.
“Very well, let’s begin. First,” Appleton said as he picked up the Disneyland picture, “This is a very interesting picture. You are sitting in a log and are falling down a stream. I assume this is some secret entrance to the rebel headquarters, Mr. Roberts? Who is this woman behind you? It appears she has been taken to be tortured. She seems very afraid. Where was this picture taken? We are very interested in knowing the location of this camp. If you tell us the location, we might be easy on you. We see your traitorous wife in the picture, along with that spoiled brat of yours.” Jackson felt another slimy slap on his face. “Jackson, we are waiting for your answer.”
“That picture was taken at Disneyland last year. It is a ride, Splash Mountain, not a camp, you moron. As for the person behind us, she was just the next person in line. I can tell you have not managed to increase your intelligence in the last thirteen years, have you Appleton?”
“Silence, Jackson. You will tell us what we want to know. We can make it very difficult on you if you resist. Shall we try again?” Jackson felt another slimy slap on his cheek.
From the corner of the room, Jackson heard a familiar voice, “Enough! Appleton, please place our prisoner back under your power of sleep.”
Appleton’s tongue found its target again.
The High Commander stepped out from the shadows. “Appleton, transfer our prisoner to Doldunt prison. We can’t do a proper interrogation in this damp cave. Once at the prison, you can use whatever means you think fit to extract the information from him. Remember, he might come in useful later, so please stop short of death when interrogating Jackson.”
Appleton motioned to one of the other toads to take care of Jackson; he noticed the High Commander step back into the cave. “Appleton, I need not remind you to keep this prisoner away from the other prisoners in the prison. Remember who is locked up there. And, don’t forget his wife will be joining him later. Take extreme caution. When you are finished here, you are to return to the sisters and give them a complete update on your attempts to locate Sara.” The High Commander turned on his heels and marched out of the cave.
#

The courtroom was filled. There were no seats however, for the right price, choice seats towards the front could be purchased while those foolish enough to have already purchased the seats were forcibly removed from the courtroom. It was fortunate the trial coincided with Queen Hillary’s month long inspection of her legions, now amassed to the west of Tenebrae City in Turalia. The Queen would be gone a substantial amount of time. Janet was pleased with herself; it took a stroke of genius to forge a decree requiring all reigning queens to inspect their troops. Of course, it was Maggie’s idea to forge their mother’s royal seal on the decree. Queen Hillary was bewildered; she could not remember making such a decree. She decided it was because she was so busy trying to keep her food tasting service staffed. She dutifully left on her tour only three days earlier. It was barely enough time for the sisters to saturate the public with enough advertising.
After a long argument as to who would be the judge and who would be the prosecuting attorney, the matter had been settled the same way the sisters always settled their arguments. Janet held her breath the longest, thus she appointed herself as judge. Maggie, although still angry at Janet for cheating, became the prosecuting attorney. They would both serve on the jury. It was, after all, their civic duty. Both knew that Elizabeth was guilty and the trial was a mere formality. Selling tickets to the highest bidder was Maggie’s idea. Forcing Tenebrae City’s citizens to bid on a ticket was Janet’s idea.
Janet, sitting behind a desk in the court room, struck her gavel on her newly purchased gavel pad. “Dearest citizens of our fair Tenebrae City,” she looked at the group of cut throats and derelicts seated in the front row. They had been allowed, or more like forced, into becoming the high bidders. Most of the citizens loyal to Elizabeth had suddenly been unavailable.
“I am sad to say, our once dear sister, Elizabeth, is on trial for treason against our dearest mother.” She paused for an instant to point her boney finger at Elizabeth. “How do you plead?”
Elizabeth said nothing.
“Dearest Sister, may I approach the bench?” asked Maggie.
“My dearest sister and esteemed prosecuting attorney, I believe you refer to the judge as your honor.”
“Please accept my deepest apologies my dear sister. Dearest your honor, may I approach the bench?”
“Well, of course esteemed lawyer Maggie, it would be most fortuitous to have your wisdom at the bench. Please approach the bench.”
“Dearest Sister, we have overlooked a small matter in these proceedings,” Maggie said, as she absent mindedly arranged the documents evenly on the desk.
“Oh dearest Sister of mine, please tell, exactly what did we overlook?” responded Janet as she rearranged the documents in neat and orderly piles on the desk.
“I feel this trial is a great dishonor to our dearest sister.”
“What! I mean, in which way could it be a dishonor, my dearest DERANGED sister?” said Janet, glaring at Maggie.
“In all of our haste to try our dearest sister, we forgot to appoint an attorney for the defense, dearest Sister, and most honorable judge. If it pleases the court, I will assign myself as defense attorney.” Maggie smiled.
“Dearest Sister, you are already the prosecuting attorney, are you sure you can handle both positions and still be impartial?”
“Oh my dearest, dearest sister and most honorable provider of justice, I am well capable of multi-tasking. It will be no problem serving as both defense and prosecuting attorneys, and still take on the esteemed role of jurist,” remarked Maggie. A thunderous applause exploded from the front row of the court room. Several people, clearly loyal to Elizabeth, exited the court room.
“Oh dearest Maggie, I am so proud of you. Of course, it would be an honor to appoint you as defensive attorney also. Would you like a few minutes alone with your new client, before we continue?”
Maggie looked at Elizabeth with disgust and replied, “Dearest sister and fellow jurist, why would I spend time alone with that felon? After all, she is guilty,” Maggie said, as she rearranged the documents evenly on the desk, along with the gavel and gavel pad.
“Very well, shall we begin the trial?” asked Janet. Maggie stepped back to the prosecuting attorney’s table and rearranged all the documents in a neat pile on her left and the gavel and gavel pad on the right.
“Yes, dearest Sister, your honor, may I give my closing arguments?” replied Maggie from the prosecuting attorney table. Maggie walked over to the defense attorney table and said, “As defense attorney, I object.”
“Don’t be a ninny, Maggie,” said Janet. “Objection overruled. Please continue dearest prosecuting attorney Maggie.”
Maggie walked over to the prosecuting attorney table and said, “Thank you, your honor. I’m sure the defense objection was a mere formality.”
Elizabeth remained silent and emotionless.
Maggie, pointing at Elizabeth, “Lady and lady of the jury, It is with great regret that I tell you that I believe we have proven without a shadow of a doubt that our dearest sister, whose wanton and willful acts against her own mother has created great sorrow and despair. We have furthermore shown that she has denied her dearest relatives, living here in this great city, the privilege and joy of companionship of our most dearest niece Sophie. Yes, lady and lady of the jury, our dearest sister did willfully hide and protect our adorable niece from her loving aunts. According to the laws of Tenebrae, and I read, ‘When one from Tenebrae, who has been given amnesty into Earth does knowingly harbor and protect a fugitive from Tenebrae, said person is in violation of the Queen’s amnesty law. All rights of said person shall be revoked. Said person shall be deemed a traitor to the crown and tried accordingly.’ There you have it, ladies of the jury. Not only was our sister a fugitive, because she entered Earth with forged documents, but she was also protecting herself and her daughter, also a fugitive. As you can see, the laws make it quite clear. The only verdict is to find Elizabeth guilty of treason.” Maggie made a low bow to Janet and then again to the spectators as they honored her with another round of thunderous applause. A few more people in the back rows wandered out the exit.
Janet, who was on the verge of tears, also applauded Maggie. Ever faithful to her duties, she asked Maggie, “Does the defense attorney wish to give a closing argument before the jury retires and deliberates the case?”
Maggie walked over to the defense attorney table and, wiping her brow with a handkerchief said, “If it pleases the court, my closing arguments as the prosecuting attorney wore me out. I have nothing at this time. Besides, we all know she’s guilty.”
“Very well, I now dismiss the jury for deliberation.”
Maggie and Janet met for about fifteen seconds until they had reached a verdict.
“Dearest and sweetest jury foreman, have you come to a unanimous verdict?” said Janet in her most judgelike voice.
“We have, my dearest sister, uh, I mean, your honor.”
“The defendant will rise.” said Janet. Elizabeth remained seated. “The defendant will rise,” yelled Janet. “Bailiff, please make our dearest sister stand up, she just isn’t playing fair,” whined Janet. The bailiff forced Elizabeth to stand up. “Oh, dearest Sister and foreman of the jury, please continue, what is the verdict?”
“Oh, dearest Sister, you were here with me when we talked about it. You know dearest Elizabeth is guilty of all charges.”
Janet was ecstatic. “Oh, goody, goody,” she giggled and then on a more serious note, “Elizabeth, you have been found guilty of treason. That means mother’s protection spell is no longer valid. If you tell us where that spoiled brat of yours, Susie, is hiding, we might become more lenient and execute you more quickly. Elizabeth, do you have anything to say on your behalf?”
Elizabeth remained silent.
“Very well, guards, remove the prisoner from the court room. Escort her to Doldunt Prison. Maggie and I will decide her fate at a later date.”
“Dearest citizens, thank you all for coming to see your fair judicial system in action. Now, if you will please exit the court room in an orderly manner and don’t forget to pay the viewing taxes on your way out. Have what’s left of a beautiful day.”

kidnapped Chapter 16

2010-10-13T00:19:00.002-05:00

Chapter Sixteen- Not all Pirates are on the Caribbean

Sara was awakened by a small jab in her right side. A small man with shoulder length curly black hair, a very long mustache, and wearing a white ruffled shirt and black thigh high boots stood over her. The small man, no taller than Jessup, was holding a walking stick which, apparently, was the item used to poke her.
“Hey, why did you wake me up that way?” she said startled.
“Ahoy there lassie, tis I who be askin’ all the questions. If ye don’t be a answerin’ me questions swiftly, then it’ll be you that I be stabbin’ with me ol’ trusty saber here,” said the crusty pirate as he shook his walking stick.
“Well, Mr. Percy. I don’t mean to be rude but, are you aware that isn’t a saber?”
“Shiver me timbers lass dontcha be coy with me child. I know what it be. Since the terrible menacing ornery sea monster ate me saber and half me crew, tis all I kin get me hands on. There not be a soul left that trusts me with a real saber. An’ mind you lil lass, I be the one askin’ the questions ‘round here. An’ child, just who might ye be, lassie? This field be me domicile since I be not wantin’ to sleep near the water anymore. I be plannin’ a mighty ten story condominium complex with an Olympic sized pool shaped like a boat and an eight person Jacuzzi tub right on this spot. An’, how ye be knowin’ me name? Arrgghhh, if we be outta sea, it would be walkin’ the plank withya for insubordination. Now, lassie, I’d be a answerin’ me questions, if ye know what be good for ye.”
“My name is Sara, Mr. Percy, and I have come a long way to meet you. I have…”
“Arrggghhh, I be Pirate Percy, Lassie, and as for ye being from a long ways away, well just taint true. I heard there were a young lass that just sprung up in Jessup’s crops yesterday, an’ if my ciphering be right, I be ciphering ye be the young lass that sprung up. Now, we be wantin’ to hear the truth lassie, or I’ll keelhaul ye.”
“Well, if you must know, I did land in Jessup’s corn crops yesterday afternoon, but I did not just spring up from out of nowhere. I told you I have come a long distance to see you. Well, I didn’t know it was you I had to meet, but I knew I had to meet someone who would help me and Jessup told me you could help me. It is true I landed in Jessup’s corn field, but I first came from very far away.”
“Avast me matey, there taint no way you could just turn up in Jessup’s field, so ye must have sprung up from the ground, Lassie.”
Sara looked exasperated, “What do I need to do to convince you I am telling the truth?” Sara debated whether or not to tell Percy the real truth. It could be very dangerous if he couldn’t be trusted. “Please excuse me, but the sun is in my eyes,” said Sara as she reached into her backpack to get her magical sunglasses. A white mist enveloped Percy. Sara was now convinced the pirate could be told the real truth.
“Avast with ye delays, Lassie. I don’t got all day. Now, be a tellin’ the truth an’ be swift, afore I run ya through with me stick.”
“As I told you, I am Sara Roberts. I come from Earth and I have urgent business in Tenebrae. I was told you were the person to get me there.” Sara retold as much of her story as she felt comfortable with.
“First, lassie, never say that place aloud. Arrgghhh, I be not a sailin’ thems cursed waters again. For any a person, no matter their need. Last time we be venturin’ outta sea, we was come upon by that demonic, blasted sea creature. And, it did eat me crew an most me splendid ship. I taint about to venture out again. Ye just need to be findin’ another fool to do ye biddin’” Percy turned around to leave.
“Wait, I haven’t finished. I really need your help. I am Queen Hillary’s granddaughter.” Sara watched Percy, expecting a look of amazement on his face, and got her wish. “Yes, that’s right. The Queen is my grandmother.”
“Hold ye tongue, lass. I have no love for our Queen, she be pure evil through and through, and those welps of hers be evil too. I won’t be a helpin’ no relation of the Queen. Ye be talkin’ to the wrong pirate. Ye can find another fool to help ye outta this mess ye be in. Twont be me or whats left of me crew.”
“You didn’t let me finish, Pirate Percy, I never said I liked the Queen. I don’t like her either.”
“Why did ye not say that from the start? I still can’t be helpin’ ya, what with the demonic, overactive sea monster still between us an’ Tenebrae. I do be wishin’ ye luck. Now, ye will be leavin’ so I can catch a bit of shut-eye. Twas a pleasure knowin’ ye Lassie, always good to find someone else who not be likin’ the Queen.”
“I really need your help. I haven’t told you everything. My evil aunts kidnapped my mother. Pirate Percy, they plan on killing my mother,” Sara pleaded.
“That be plain terrible, lassie, but there not be a thing I can do to change that.”
“They plan on taking the throne. They will take it by force if they have to, even if it means killing my mother and me to do it. They will be worse as queens than even my grandmother. No one will be safe once they are on the throne.”
“Avast Matey, don’t matter to me which evil wench be sittin’ on the throne. Don’t make no never-mind to me. Still won’t get ye over to the big island.”
Sara thought for a moment and then smiled. “Did I mention I have Queen’s dollars to pay you? I have a lot of them.”
“Shiver me timbers, why did ye not mention that from the start, lassie? I got to persuade a few new victims, I mean crew members, to sign on for the voyage and need to get provisions. That’ll cost you handsome lassie, how much coinage do ye have?”
Sara removed her glasses. As she did so she noticed a smudge of white haze off to the right, and another smudge of dark haze off to the left but decided it was maybe just glare. She put the sunglasses back into her backpack and pulled out one of the pouches Jessup had given her. “Will this be enough?” she said as she handed the pouch over to the pirate.
“That’ll be enough for starters, we sail afore sunset. Be on the docks one hour earlier. Ye know where me grand ship be anchored?”
Sara nodded her head, “There is only one ship in the harbor.”
“No Lassie, there be two vessels in the harbor. I could only wish that grand splendid ship in the harbor be mine, but no. Mine be on the starboard side and it be not quite as magnificent. See ye before sunset.”
#
Percy sat at his usual table at the inn, having just finished hiring most of his required crew. After half of his ship was eaten by the sea monster, he had gone to the Pirate Depot and bought some two by fours. With a few nails and some duct tape, he had repaired his ship as best he could. However, it was smaller than it used to be so Percy had only needed three crew members. With his new found wealth, he could replace his galleon upon his return from Tenebrae, if he returned. There was no guarantee of that happening.
He had been surprised when Cedric volunteered to be the ship’s navigator. Percy had not known that lizards were naturally great navigators. Cedric had assured him that the most famous navigators had been lizards even though he could not remember any of their names. The second crew member he had hired was a large, scary man with a menacing dragon tattoo. The scary man, Percy could not remember his name, had promised him he would make a perfect first-mate. He had confessed he had no idea what a first-mate did, but he was sure he would make a perfect first-mate, regardless. Percy was pleased.
Unfortunately, Percy still needed to find a person daft and large enough to row the boat in still waters. It would also help if the daft person could cook. His last cook had been the first to be eaten by the sea monster and everyone knew it. The minute Percy had announced that he was looking for crew members for a voyage to Tenebrae everyone had suddenly taken ill or just run away. Percy sat at the table, mumbling to himself. He had two hours before sunset and only one hour before he was to meet his new client on the pier. Yet, he still did not have a cook/rower for the voyage. How did he get himself into these predicaments?
A booming, menacing voice bellowed from behind him. “I can’t believe you got hornswaggled into taking another voyage, and over there of all places!” said the voice, pointedly.
“Aye, I did at that.”
“Just who in the name of Hillary was able to talk you into this fool voyage?”
“Aye, ‘twas the child you be sendin’ from here last night,” said cradling his head in despair. He was running out of time and victims.
“Child, what child would that be? As I recollect, I only kicked out a wizard. Ah, right, I get it. You are under a spell. What did she do to you? Threaten to turn you into a frog if you didn’t do as she commanded?” The ogre said wiping his hands on his shirt.
“Nay, twasn’t that mate.” The pirate said with a forlorn look upon his face.
The ogre scratched his head with his beefy hands and asked, “Ok, then did she threaten to turn your liver into jelly if you didn’t do her bidding?”
“Nay twasn’t that either. She taint a wizard mate. She be much more devious and tricky.”
“Sure, sure Percy. Are you sure the child isn’t a wizard? I wouldn’t want it to get around that you were outsmarted by a snot nosed kid. It would be better for you if she was a wizard. People would understand then.”
“Avast, twasn’t outsmarted, as I be saying the youngster be devious. Aye, she be paying me twenty times the goin’ rate. Couldn’t resist. Curse me rattily old bones.”
The ogre stifled a laugh, “Well, I’ll be. You crusty old pirate, you were outwitted by a brat.”
“Aye, that I was. Now I be in the soup.” Percy didn’t want to tell the ogre that what he really needed was a large man to do most of the work. He thought it best if he only wanted a cook to finish his crew. “I have not enough time to fill the rest of me crew. ‘Tis just a lousy cook I be needin’. Now where be found a cook in such a short time?”
“If all you need is one lousy cook, I have been called a lousy cook more times than I can remember. Looks as if you just hired yourself a cook.” The ogre smiled as he rubbed his hands on his greasy apron, as he removed the apron. “When do we sail?”
“If that clock on the wall be correct, that’ll be now. Tis time to be a saunterin’ over to me grand ship. Told me crew and new client to meet me at the pier one hour afore sunset.”
“Crew?”
“Aye, crew.”
“And just who would be fool enough to sign up as a crew, that is, besides me?”
“Besides ye, fool ogre, there be a fool of a lizard, Cedric, one fool of a scary man with a dragon tattoo, and that dern fool of a girl. That’ll be five including you. You be still game to be me cook?”
“Well, Percy, the outsmarted by a brat kid pirate, let’s go. Our fate awaits us. Let’s just hope the sea monster isn’t too hungry.”

October 10, 2010

2010-10-10T00:18:00.001-05:00

Poem for the week.

NEXT TIME

No use denying......
We both just stopped trying seems we're just going through the motions,
We’re playing with emotions.
You and I, and I can't figure out why.

Our reasons are changing and hopes rearranging.
Seems it ended far too soon.
Both reaching for the moon, we're worlds apart,
And it's breaking my heart.

kidnapped Chapter 15

2010-10-09T01:22:00.003-05:00

As always chapter 1 is posted on the August 25th page.
Chapter 1 of The last Chance is posted on the July 5th page.

Chapter Fifteen- It’s Wise to Fear a Man with Dragon Tattoos

Sara read the sign. NO CHILDREN ALLOWED, and boldly opened the rickety door, held her head high, and walked into the room, daring anyone to say anything. As she stepped into the room, the loud, lawless bar became silent and every eye in the place zeroed in on Sara. It reminded Sara of some old movie she watched with her father called Star Wars. There was a scene when the good guy walked into a bar and there were a lot of mean, dangerous looking creatures sitting around the bar. They all looked right at the good guy. Except, the characters staring at her right now, looked a lot less respectable. Suddenly, the bold, confident Sara began to feel very small.
The ogre behind the bar looked at Sara from head to toe, then rubbed his large meaty hands on his greasy, dirty apron. In his deep, booming, menacing voice, he pointed to Sara and said, “Hey kid, can’t you read? The sign says no wizards allowed.”
Sara raised her hands to protest, and then realized her star was showing. She quickly dropped her hands to her sides and defended herself by saying, “I am not a wizard, I’m a child.” She realized, child or wizard, either way she was in trouble.
The ogre laughed, “And I’m the Queen- off to Doldunt Prison with you.” Everyone in the bar laughed as the ogre continued, “Anyway, children aren’t allowed in here either, so get lost.”
Sara turned around, dejectedly, and left the inn.
As she left, the patrons of the bar went back to their conversations, except two. A lizard sitting at the table in the very far back corner had noticed the white star on Sara’s palm and stared at the door after she left. He finished his drink and started to follow. He left the pirate sitting at the table, sadly lamenting his recent string of bad luck.
Sitting at a table next to the pirate’s table was a very large, scary looking man with a large tattoo of a dragon on his left arm. He knew instantly who this young girl was. He sneered. His employers would want to know that this white palmed girl was now near Tenebrae. He knew what he needed to do. It did not escape his attention that the lizard had excused himself from his table and followed the young girl. Chase, the man with the tattoo, stood up and deposited a Queen’s dollar, which he had been running through his fingers. He needed to see what the lizard was up to. It might have been a coincidence that the lizard left about the same time as the young girl, but he had to make sure. Chase left the inn through the back door. No one in the inn noticed him leave.
Sara was angry. How dare that ogre make her leave? She thought to herself, “If I had been a wizard, I would have turned him into a...a….” She couldn’t think of anything worse than a greasy fat ugly ogre with a dirty apron. She noticed the figure of a large lizard slithering towards her. She looked around but could find no place to hide. Like a deer caught in a trance from oncoming headlights, she could do nothing but wait for the lizard to reach her. She reached down and grabbed her backpack for protection.
“You don’ need to be ssscared, I am a friend. Really, my name is Cedric.”
The lizard did not look trustworthy. She thought of using the sunglasses but she didn’t want to waste one of the three uses so soon. Besides, Jessup had mentioned a lizard named Cedric. “Ok, Cedric. Jessup mentioned you. Jessup said you could help me find a pirate but you weren’t where you were supposed to be and now I’ll never meet the pirate.” she said folding her hands across her chest. “And I don’t know you so you are not my friend.”
“I wasss having a drink with the Pirate Percy when you came in waiving your white ssstarred palm so everybody in the inn could thee it. That’s not the wisssessst thing to do. There are those who are looking for a white ssstar palmed child,” said Cedric.
“I didn’t mean to show off my palm. If I had my way, I wouldn’t even have a star. If I had my way, I’d be at home with my mom and dad.” She paused for a moment and her face brightened. “You know the pirate? Can you introduce me to him? I really need to get to Ten….”
Cedric stopped Sara before she could finish her sentence. “Pleassse, don’t talk about that place out-loud. There are those who report all that is ssspoken here. It’s bessst that place isss ssspoken of in private. It will take sssomeone with experience to convince Percy to go anywhere near hisss ssship again and even more to convince him to go to that place.”
“Cedric, I have no other choice. I have to get to- to that place and his is the only ship in the harbor.”
“Well…” said rubbing his chin with his hand.
“A friend would help me,” Sara said with pleading eyes.
“Yesss, yesss, I know.” Cedric rubbed his chin again as if he was thinking. “The only way to get from here to there isss by Percy’sss ssship,” Cedric looked up, his eye’s bright and a smirk on his face. “All we need to do isss to make him think that the idea to take you isss all hisss. I think I just might be able to do thisss. It will take sssome careful planning. I have a cot in my tent; you are welcome to ssstay there. We can talk to Percy tomorrow.” He started to walk away from Sara, and then turned his head around again, “Are you coming?”
The thought of staying anywhere near the lizard gave Sara the heebie-jeebies; she didn’t know why, he seemed like a nice enough guy, but nevertheless.... “Well, actually, I have a sort of phobia of cots and I was thinking of sort of sleeping out here under the stars. I like sleeping outside.” She had never slept outside alone before but somehow, it sounded better than sleeping anywhere near Cedric.
“Ok. SSSara, be careful. Not everyone around here will be friendly.” Cedric turned and left.
#
Hiding behind some bushes and unnoticed by Cedric or Sara, a scary person with a dragon tattoo had seen and heard everything. “Looks as if I will be joining the Pirate’s crew tomorrow,” Chase said to himself. He knew his employers wanted the girl; he would just have to find a way to join up with the pirate before Sara. “Unfortunately ships only travel on the water,” the thought Chase, turning a bit green. He was terrified of water.
“This is not what I expected in this job.” Chase had been hired to take the girl to a rendezvous at Hemit’s Cave. They had not told him the girl was a wizard. His father had been a wizard and had abandoned him and his mother just after Chase was born. His mother died shortly after his birth and he grew up in an orphanage. He vowed to avenge his mother’s death if he ever found the wizard that had abandoned her and left her to die. However, a job was a job and the pay was good. Once he completed this job, he would have the money to continue the search for his miserable father and avenge his mother’s death.
#
Sara watched the lizard walk away. She had an uneasy feeling about Cedric. Off towards the right, she saw a very large man moving away; she had an uneasy feeling about him too. Perhaps it was because they were both strangers, and both a bit strange, but they gave her the creeps. The large man left, leaving Sara alone as the sun finished setting. Exhausted, all she could think of was a soft bed. “Maybe I should have taken Cedric up on his offer,” she said aloud, talking to herself again. She used the backpack as a pillow and lay down on the ground. “This is so uncomfortable,” she said, “I’ll never get to sleep.” She gazed up at the stars. They didn’t look much different from the ones at home, except they were green. She closed her eyes and within seconds Sara was drifting off into dreamland, dreaming of her trip to Disneyland with her parents. She smiled in her sleep.

kidnapped Chapter Fourteen

2010-10-06T00:19:00.004-05:00

I forgot to add the chapter one start dates on my chapter 13 post. Guess what, someone asked me where to find chapter one.

Tenebrae chapter one is posted on the August 25th page and The Last Chance chapter one is posted on the July 5th page.

Chapter Fourteen-Have an Ear of Creamed Corn

“Naw, Clearance, I spect she ain’t dead. Clearance, how in dad burn blazes am I spose to know where she come from?” Sara heard speech while regaining consciousness. “I spect some sort of wizardly magic were used.” She lay motionless, afraid of how the owners of the voices would react if they knew she was awake. “Why don’t you nudge her a might bit Clearance.” She heard the ump humph of something large moving towards her and began to tremble. “Now, Clearance, how am I spose to know if she got some secret weapon? Naw Clearance, I don’t spect she’ll scratch an eye out if you deesturb her. And, if she does, you got hundurds of eyes. I spose ya could survive with a few less eyes. Go ahead and nudge her with that big old head of yours.”
Sara imagined a nudge by a big head with hundreds of eyes and screamed, “Don’t you dare touch me you, you thing.” Sara opened her eyes as a large caterpillar looking creature with the saddest eyes she’d ever seen jumped away from her and a dwarf sized person looked on with surprise.
The dwarf said to the caterpillar, “Well Clearance looks like we have ourselves a spit fire. An’ I told ya she warnt dead. Looks as if your eyes is safe.” The caterpillar continued to back away with a hurtful gaze. The farmer turned to Sara and said, “Sorry lil’ lady, we don’t mean you no harm and, just cause you chose our crop field to land in don’t give you the right to call Clearance here a thing.” Sara finally sat up and looked around. She was in the middle of a very large corn field. Sara had seen corn fields before, but this corn field was different. The ears of corn had gooey goop dripping from them. Sara sat there staring at everything. “Lil’ lady, are you all right? Liken I said, we don’t mean ya no harm; ya’ll just lucky Clearance here noticed ya afore he squished ya. All we was doing was minding our business harvesting our cream corn crops. And there you was, you was just lying there as if ya was dead.”
The dwarf was no taller than three feet, with a beard that had to be twice that. Clearance was a very long green and red caterpillar type creature. It had to be at least twenty feet long, with a very large head, filled with at least one hundred eyes. Looking into the caterpillar’s eyes, she sensed kindness and goodness from all hundred of those eyes. Though the creature was frightening to look at, after remembering what Thomas had said about the good creatures of Tenebrae- some were pretty and some were not. She smiled at Clearance and said, “I’m sorry for screaming at you. I was frightened, will you forgive me?” Clearance smiled, its eyes glowing with warmth. Sara turned to the farmer. “Could you tell me where I am?”
“I just told you lil lady. Ya be in my cream corn crop. I be Jessup and my friend here be Clearance.”
Sara looked at Jessup, dressed in a floppy green hat, a plaid red shirt and purple over-alls. “Hi, nice to meet you Jessup. My name is Sara.” She started to put her hand out but changed her mind when she remembered the star. “When I asked where I was, I meant besides being in a corn field.” Clearance’s eyes turned sad again and she turned her head away.
Jessup looked at Clearance, and patted her on her big head, “Now, now, Clearance, I don’t spose she meant to be rude by not being pleased to meet ya also.” Jessup looked at Sara, “You just went and hurt Clearance’s feelings again, well, if ya be so high falootin’ I’ll tell you where you be. You be on the Isle of Rand. Now, if you’ll be a leaving and on your way, Clearance and me can finish our harvesting.”
Sara looked at Clearance and said, “I am so sorry Clearance.” It looked up at her. “I really didn’t mean to be rude. I’ve never met any caterpillars before, I mean, the caterpillars I’ve met aren’t as nice and sweet as you. It is very nice to meet you Clearance.” Clearance’s eyes brightened, all hundred of them, and before Sara could react, Clearance had licked her face with a very long tongue well lathered with slime. Slime dripping off her face, Sara stood there in shock.
“Well, lookee there Sara, look as if Clearance has taken a shine to you. And Clearance don’t take a shine to many. She has a sense about peoples; she knows when they is good or bad and when they are in need. She likes you. And she aint no caterpillar, she be a waggert. Waggerts be bread to be harvestin’ pets.”
Sara needed to wipe her face off. She was looking around for her backpack. It was gone. “Jessup, Clearance, have you seen my backpack?”
“I got no idea what a backpack is lil lady. Looks as if your back is attached to your front.”
She looked exasperated, “No! My backpack is not my back. It is very important and I need to find it. My backpack is about so big.” She did her best to show the size of her backpack from hand movements but Jessup stood there with a blank, confused look on his face. Sara shook her head, “I might as well be talking Latin for all the good it is doing me now. Ubi proprius dorsum Sarcina.” She jumped. What were those strange sounds coming from her mouth? Even more surprising, Jessup understood what she said.
“Well, lil lady why didn’t ya’ll ask for your satchel in the first place?” Jessup turned back to Sara. “Clearance found your satchel, er backpack, a way up in the tops of the cream corn stalks afore we knew you was here. Weren’t Clearance’s fault though, she was thinking a bird left it for her. I tried telling her she couldn’t keep it, somebody would be along to gets it, but sometimes Clearance is so dern blamed stubborn.” Jessup turned to Clearance again. “Give Sara her satchel back.” A sorrowful look came across Clearance’s face and with a slight hesitation, she reached behind with one of her arms/feet and handed Sara her backpack.
“Why, thank you Clearance.” Sara opened the backpack and pulled the map out of one of the side pockets. A small package of skittles popped out. “Oh, Mr. Thompson must not have noticed my secret stash of Skittles,” thought Sara. She opened the Skittles and handed a few to Jessup and a few to Clearance. While they ate their Skittles, Sara studied the maps.
“These here candies are good, Sara.”
“Yes, they are. Jessup, could you tell me the best way to get to Tenebrae? Are we close? I’m in kind of a hurry to get there.”
“Tenebrae ehh, Clearance does ya hear that? I thank your radar ‘bout this girl is wrong. Spect we have us a spy, likely sent here to get information ‘bout our cream corn crop. No good person would go to Tenebrae. You knows that. Now, lookee ere lil lady, I was joshing you when I said this here was cream corn. Naw, tis really creamed asparagus. The Queen ain’t suddenly taking a disliking to cream asparagus has she? Taint my fault she suddenly took a dislike to cream corn and made me illegal. So ya can just tell her majesty we ain’t got no cream corn. All we got is asparagus. Tain’t that right Clearance. Now, if you are finished spying’ on us, you can just go back from where you came from. Go on get. You ain’t welcome no more. Clearance, hush up, I knows what I’s doing. Clearance and me has some cream spinach to harvest... I meant cream… Psst, Clearance, what crops did I say we was growing? Oh, ya, cream asparagus.” Jessup turned his back on Sara. Sara just stood there looking at his back, not quite understanding his sudden change of heart. “She gone yet Clearance? I don’ care, do what I says and turn your back on her too. Well, maybe if you ignore her she’ll disappear. Dagnabbit Clearance, I said to ignore her.” Jessup turned back to face Sara; she had a confused look on her face. Clearance had moved over next to her as if to protect her.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “Did I do something to offend you or Clearance again? If I did, I didn’t mean to do it. I am not a spy. I do need to get to Tenebrae. And, I love creamed corn. Please, you have to trust me. I have urgent business in Tenebrae.” She looked at Jessup. He was still looking at her warily. “If it would make you any happier, I think the Queen wants to kill me.” Then, she sat down on the ground and broke down into tears. “I can’t do this, I’m just a little kid,” she sobbed.
“There, there lil lady, Clearance didn’t mean to make you cry.” Clearance looked at Jessup with a confused look in his eyes. “She’s sorry. Tell her you’re sorry Clearance.”
“That’s okay,” said Sara, thinking of Clearance’s tongue. “I believe she’s sorry. Will you help me? I don’t know what to do. I’m not supposed to trust anybody, but I’m so scared and you and Clearance seem like such nice people. I really think I can trust you.”
“Well, Clearance and me taint nothing but farmers. I’m terribly sorry ‘bout the Queen trying to kill you. What’s you done anyways? Never you mind, taint none of my business. Don’t know how Clearance and I can help you. You can stay here. Queen’s people don’t come here often. You’d be safe here. I see you are all set on going to Tenebrae, aren’t ya? You’ll need a professional. What’s that, Clearance? Well, Clearance, I reckon you are right. Clearance says old Pirate Percy would be your best bet, if you can convince him to go out again after the sea monster done ate half of his ship and most of the crew.”
“A pirate? Can I trust him?
“Clearance says he’s not a very good pirate. I guess you can trust him.”
“Thank you so much Jessup. How do I find Percy?”
“Well, everybody knows ever since the sea monster, old Percy will be hanging out at the old Rusty Anchor Inn. That’s in the Sea Port of Randula ya know, just over yonder. Oh yeah, I forgot you ain’t from round these parts. First ya gotta get to the end of my crops.” He pointed to the right. “Just go straight, don’ turn or you’ll get turned round. When you t to the end of my crops, you’ll find a road, take the road to the right. Now don’t go a getting her lost Clearance. Oh Ya, Clearance is right, you turn left when ya get to the road. Keep a walking down the road til ya get to the lizard.”
Sara interrupted, “What makes you so sure the lizard will be there when I walk by?”
“Don’t you worry about the lizard, he will be there. He has been there every day, all day long for the last four months. As I was saying what you need to do is ask Cedric to…Yes Clearance he has. You have never met him before. No Clearance, I don’t know why he has been there, I spect he has a reason.”
Sara interrupted again, “Who is Cedric?”
“Taint you paying attention? Cedric is the lizard. As I was saying what you’ll do is ask Cedric to show you the way to the Rusty Anchor. After you get to the inn, Percy won’ be too hard to find. What’s that Clearance? Clearance wants to know if you got any money? You don’t do you? Are you sure, Clearance, you been saving for years. I see, you can tell this girl is in need? Clearance here says you can have his half of our money. I don’t wanna be out done by Clearance, you can have my half too.” Jessup handed Sara a big pouch. “This’ll get you started. Now, Sara, you best be a going if ya wanta make the Sea Port of Randula. An’ lil lady, it twas right nice a meeting you. If you ever need anything, you just call us. You can trust us, Sara. And Sara, don’t go letting the Queen kill you.”
Sara turned to go, but before she did, she looked back. “Jessup, I’m curious. Why did you name her Clearance?”
“I didn’t name her. When I bought her at the pet shop she had a tag on her with her name on it. Got a might good deal on her too!”
Sara smiled and said good-bye. Clearance gave her another long face licking and Jessup gave her a big hug and this time she didn’t back away. “I won’t forget the two of you. I will repay the money when I am able. Good-bye.” She ran off in the direction she had been told, tears running down her cheeks.
Sara had only walked a few minutes when she came to the road Jessup had told her about. She could also smell the fresh sea breeze. The road was well cared for, about twenty feet wide, and made from dirt. Sara was the only one on the road. She turned to her left and walked down the road. Sara walked for about an hour, with no sign of any lizards. Sara wondered about the lizard. Mr. Thompson said they could never trust rodents and amphibians. “Are lizards amphibians?” thought Sara. Sara wished she had paid more attention in class. She was sure lizards were not amphibians. Lizards are reptiles like snakes and alligators. She hoped she was right. Finally, she saw the Rusty Anchor Inn, as it was the only structure in the village that even resembled a building. The rest of the village turned out to be small shanties.
There was only one ship in the harbor, a very old, dilapidated ship. The ship had no appearance of having been out to sea for decades, let alone looking sea-worthy. She shook her head; she was in a lot of trouble. Certainly she could not trust this ship to get her to Tenebrae but she had no other choice.
The Rusty Anchor Inn was also dilapidated, but still in better shape than the ship.
There was a faint glow coming from the windows and there was a hub of voices coming from inside. She had never been in an inn before, but she needed to find the pirate. The sign on the door stopped her cold. It looked as if it had been written in blood and it read, “NO TENEBRAENS, WIZARDS, LIBERO SALUSONS OR CHILDREN ALLOWED

October 3, 2010

2010-10-03T00:09:00.001-05:00

Poem for the week

Warmth

The warmth of the sun has no comparison
to how beautiful you really are.
There is no doubt in my mind your smile
outshines the brightest star.
There is a warmth in your soul if you listen
will bring you peace in life.
There is a place in your heart that will always
silence inner strife.
Place trust in your future, for it will shine
so bright.
Keep your faith in your friends, because
they could be your light.
Give your love away freely to those in your
life you care most about.
Don’t give upon dreaming, for your dreams
will come true. There’s no doubt.

kidnapped Chapter 13

2010-10-02T01:06:00.001-05:00

Chapter Thirteen- The Lab and the Wizards of odds

The laboratory reminded Sara of Frankenstein’s Monster. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. . Beakers and tubes surrounded her. Some of the beakers were empty, some had strange red or yellow gooey concoctions in them, and others had blue smoke spiraling out of the top of the beaker. Along one side was a work bench with several partially constructed contraptions. The room was very dusty. Parts of the lab looked like they had not been touched in years. Along the other side of the room were cages, most were empty, but a few had weird looking animals in them. A large toad with bulging eyes stared at Sara from one of the cages. She gasped.
“Oh, he won’t bother you,” said Mr. Thompson, “That’s Benjamin. We’re working on figuring out how to undo the spell your grandmother put on him. He is somewhat of a relative of yours. He is your evil aunts’ father.”
Sara looked at the toad; looked up very close to the bars and then backed away. Turning towards the middle of the room, she found a table with only one item on it- her backpack. She looked around the room quizzically, “Mr. Thompson, where are the wizards?”
Mr. Thompson looked at Sara and said, “Wizards are very secretive. And, they are very stubborn and untrusting. It took a lot of convincing for them to allow you into their lab. Now, they have disappeared. I will just have to continue without their assistance.” Mr. Thompson placed a finger along his lips to tell Sara to be quiet and winked at her. “After all, wizards are of little use anyway, they very seldom get the calculations correct.”
A voice came from behind one of the cabinets, “This time you have gone too far Thomas. First, we don’t mind visitors; it is just this visitor we wish to avoid. Thomas, the creature you brought in with you is the grand-daughter of Queen Hillary, evil is as evil does.” The voice went silent.
“Grady, I told you, Sara is nothing like the Queen. She is our salvation. Now quit acting like dwarfs and get out here this moment.”
Another voice came from behind another cabinet, “If she be not as the Queen, then why be she a black starred palmist?” Sara looked at her palm in horror and held it up in front of her and as far away from herself as possible.
“Mildred,” responded Mr. Thompson, “I explained the star to you in detail this morning. It changes from white to black. Now, will you assist me, or not?”
From behind the cabinet came yet another voice. “Black or white changes not a thing, Tyrone, she be who she be, she will not be changing our spots to help. We have made all the preparations. They be in yonder vessel as per your command. Be on with your matters; show the black palmist her weapons. We shall be distant till you be done. Close yonder door when you leave. Be fast, Tyrone, there be black things afoot.”
“Very well, Penny, I shall continue unassisted. Thank you again for all your help and calculations.” Mr. Thompson turned to Sara, shrugged his shoulders, then looked back at the cabinet, smiled, and said, “Did I mention that wizards are stubborn?”
A hrmmph sound that came from behind the cabinets.
“It looks as if I will do this solo.” He led Sara over to the backpack. “Sara, to expedite matters, I will remove items from your backpack, one at a time. Please hold any questions until the end.” Mr. Thompson did not wait for her answer; instead he went over to the backpack and peered inside. He did not allow Sara to look into the backpack. Sara was craning her neck to peek in. “Patience, Sara.” Mr. Thompson placed his hands inside the backpack and brought his hands out holding a bunch of ordinary stones.
Sara knew she shouldn’t ask the question. She knew she should keep her mouth shut, but the words just wouldn’t stay in. “Mr. Thompson, am I supposed to throw rocks at the evil people?”
Mr. Thompson raised an eyebrow, “Sara, I said no questions.” Sara stepped back and lowered her head. “Sara, these are special stones. They are toliver stones and they come only from Libero Salus. At one time they were highly sought after but since electricity came to Tenebrae, the stones are easy to come by. I actually bought these stones on EBay. Toliver stones have a special property. As long as you keep one stone in the sun for a few hours each day, at night all the stones will become bright lights. Please, use these only when necessary because they are highly traceable.” Sara nodded. The next item was a small bottle of perfume. “The concoction in this vial came from the boiled feathers of a canaboro bird. The process is very interesting, first you,” Sara’s eyes began wandering around the room, Mr. Thompson realized, she didn’t really need all of the details. “Maybe it is best if I just tell you what each item does.” Sara nodded. “Well, this vial contains a truth serum. All you need do is spray it in the direction of the subject and the subject cannot tell a lie for the next twenty minutes. I must warn you, there is only enough serum for three uses.” Next, Mr. Thompson pulled out a pair of sunglasses.
“Those are my mother’s!” exclaimed Sara.
“Yes, Sara, they are. We have altered them just a bit. Put the sunglasses on and you can tell if the subject you are looking at is trustworthy- the ones you can trust will have a white mist around them. Those you can’t trust will have a black mist. Sara grabbed the sunglasses and lifted them to her face; Mr. Thompson grabbed her hand. “The glasses only have three uses, also. Save them for when you really need them.” Sara put the glasses on the table and nodded her head again. Mr. Thompson pulled a bracelet out of the bag.
“That’s pretty” said Sara.
“It’s pretty and very special. Simply place it on your left wrist and twist the yellow and green beads and it’ll make you invisible for thirty minutes. The bracelet can be used only….”
“Three times,” finished Sara.
Mr. Thompson didn’t skip a beat. He pulled out a very small container of Doritos next. “The Doritos in the container are never ending. Anytime you want a chip, open the lid, and take one. These are special Doritos, guaranteed to give you an extra burst of courage if you first tell them, I need courage.”
“I knew it,” said Sara.
Mr. Thompson smiled, “But Sara, like the rest, the Doritos will only give you courage three times. You must get used to using your own courage as well.” Mr. Thompson pulled out Sara’s hairbrush.
She grabbed the hairbrush and said, “The hairbrush my dad gave me,” and then she lifted the hairbrush to her hair. Gasps were heard coming from behind the cabinets and one very shrill scream as Mr. Thompson grabbed Sara’s hand.
“Please, Sara, do not brush your hair with this hairbrush. This is a very special hairbrush. It is actually a very powerful laser. It had run out of power and needed recharging, which I did. Lucky for you there was no power in this brush all the times you have used it. I shudder to think the mayhem you could have created.”
A disembodied voice floated out of the cabinets. “I do be shuddering right now.”
Mr. Thompson smiled. “There is still another hairbrush in the backpack for actually brushing your hair as well as a copy of Huckleberry Finn which I have loaned you. You should find it to be pleasant company on lonely nights. There are maps in the backpack as well. That about does it; I think you are well armed now.”
Sara glanced through the items in the backpack. “Mr. Thompson, what will I wear? I can’t wear this same outfit every single day!”
“Oh, I almost forgot, Sara.” Mr. Thompson pulled a small, Barbie size wardrobe out of the backpack and opened it. “Here are your clothes.”
“Mr. Thompson, those clothes won’t fit me, although,” and Sara craned her neck to look very closely, “they do look like my clothes.”
“Of course they will, simply tell the article you wish to wear to resize and it will enlarge to fit you. Twenty-six hours later it will go back to its Barbie doll size. It conserves space this way. Well, Sara, it looks like my work here is done. We should be able to get you back into your room and off to Tenebrae.”
A throat clearing came from behind the cabinets. “Something be forgotten, Thomas.”
“Of course, Sara, I forgot to tell you about the food packets. The instructions are very easy to follow and the contents of each food packet are labeled on the front.” Mr. Thompson faced the cabinets, “Ok, Grady, are we done yet?”
Another voice from the cabinets said, “Thomas, you do not be finished. Look in the side flap.”
Mr. Thompson fished through the side flap and pulled out a necklace, a very unattractive necklace. “Ok. What is this? I don’t remember ordering a necklace.”
A female voice answered from behind the cabinet. “Thomas Tyrone, now don’t be getting too excited, be remembering the blood pressure. We do be thinking we need one more safeguard. This be an anti-truth talisman. If this creature do be our salvation, Tenebrae will not be stopping at nothing to stop her. The necklace do be useful if they capture the creature. She be not able to tell anything about the defenders when she do be wearing this necklace. We do be thinking of her protection too. Tenebrae cannot be torturing the creature when she be wearing this necklace either. We be admitting, we be worrying for she be a black palmist and we do be wanting to protect The Manor, Tyrone. And, Tyrone, we be wanting that she put the necklace on now. She not be able to take it off again.”
Mr. Thompson thought about the necklace, “Thank you Penny that was very thoughtful of you.” Mr. Thompson put the necklace around Sara’s neck as the phone rang. “Thompson here.” There was a pause and then Mr. Thompson continued, “Are you sure?” another pause, “Yes, that does change matters. Yes.” Mr. Thompson turned to Sara and she saw the heads of three small people peek out from behind the cabinets. “Sara, there has been a slight change of plans. We must leave from here. I was hoping to send you off from the teleport in your room. The calculations are more exact from that location but we have run out of time.” The wizard’s eyes widened as they whispered to each other. Mr. Thompson continued, “You must leave from this location, right now, and we don’t have time to recalculate. We can’t take the time to properly train you; we can’t even afford the time to train you at all. We will try to get you as close to your destination as possible but it will be up to you to get to your final destination. Our last information is that she was taken to the castle in Tenebrae City. You are to go there to free your mother and then return here to The Manor. It is as simple as that. And Sara, use your senses. You can trust few in Tenebrae or Libero Salus to help you. Oh, and Sara, a lot of people in Tenebrae do not like wizards, white or black so keep your star a secret. Good luck Sara. Be safe.” Mr. Thompson pointed to the door they had entered when they came into the lab. “Sara, that’s your entrance to your destiny. It is time to go.”
Sara stared at the door, closed her eyes, and walked towards it. Music piped from the loud speakers….
Climb Ev’ry Mountain. Ford every stream. Follow every rainbow. Till you find your dream.
“Ok, that’s enough,” yelled Mr. Thompson, “its way to corny and not helping!”
Sara turned to Mr. Thompson, “That’s Ok. I kinda like it and it might help.” Standing in front of the mysterious door; Sara said “Open.” She walked through the door and vanished.
“I do be worried Tyrone. She be not trained as a wizard. It takes years and years of training to become a wizard; you do be knowing this. She be no use to us unless she be trained in the arts. It is not like ye be born knowing it or that it just come to ye.”
“I would not be concerned; she is very special. More special maybe than even I know.”
“And one more thing need be said, Thomas.”
“Yes.”
“It be about the invisibility bracelet.”
“What about the invisibility bracelet?”
“We be trying hard to make the bracelet. We be all working together Thomas. We not sleep at night Thomas. You know Thomas; invisibility has never been done before. Now, remember your blood pressure Thomas.”
“What about the invisibility bracelet?”
“There might be a small flaw that might alter its effect.”
“Out with it Grady, what’s wrong with the invisibility bracelet?” ordered Thomas, running out of patience.
“We be having no time to test such a bracelet. It be our first attempt at such an item. It might not be working, Thomas. Truth be told there is the greatest probability that the black palmist will end up dead or worse if she be using the bracelet

kidnapped Chapter 12

2010-09-29T01:34:00.003-05:00

Chapter One is posted Aug 25. Chapter One The Last Chance, posted July 5

Chapter Twelve- Defenders of the White Star, Huck, and Fairies

Sara and Mr. Thompson walked through the bookcase and stood in front of an elevator. To the right of the elevator was a framed picture of Mr. Thompson with another man with messy white hair. The picture looked very old. It was signed, “Thanks for the tip about the frogs and the name change, Samuel Clemens.”
Amazed Sara said, “Hey, that looks like that Huckleberry Finn dude, but his name was Mark Twain.”
“They are one and the same. The Defenders sent me to investigate some unusual amphibian activity in a mining camp east of San Francisco. Down.” The elevator started down. “I met a young reporter from the local newspaper and he volunteered to show me the way to the camp. He said, and I do quote, ‘I have been hankering to go out exploring the countryside and I would be as happy as a June bug in clover to escort you to the camp.’”
Sara reached out to press the button on the elevator. Mr. Thompson stopped her hand.
“The buttons don’t work the way you would think Sara, they are a trick. The elevator only works with verbal commands from selected voices. Elevator, authorize the following voice. Sara, say down.”
“Down.”
“Now you can authorize the elevator yourself. The buttons are a trap. If you press the button you will teleport somewhere- anywhere.”
Sara put her hands down. “Wow! So tell me more about the June bug in clover dude.”
“Well, Sam and I became very good friends. The amphibian activity turned out to be some jumping frog contest. I suggested to Sam, he should write an amusing story and perhaps change his name to something simpler. He wrote a very famous story called ‘The Jumping Frogs of Calaveras County’ and he changed his name to Mark Twain.”
“That is really cool. This elevator is really slow,” Sara commented.
“Actually, it is not that slow. We are going down to the very core of the installation.”
“Mr. Thompson, who are the Defenders? You mentioned them in your story,” Sara said quizzically.
“The Defenders of the White Star are an organization I belong to. They have been around a very long time. It is their mission to destroy the evil in our world so everyone can live in peace again. We were a very strong organization once, but the arrest of most of our leaders led us to work covertly.”
“I bet my dad would join you,” she said proudly.
“Your dad works for the Senate of Libero Salus and they have declared our organization illegal. He cannot know about us. He fights against Tenebrae in his own way. Well, we are here now, come along Sara.”
She looked down the hallway. On one side of the elevator doors were two brightly colored doors with a picture window alongside them. At the end of the hall was a very plain, but somehow ominous brown door. Mr. Thompson entered the first door while Sara peered through the window.
The room was filled with computers and sitting at the computers were small children with beautiful iridescent wings. Mr. Thompson was talking with one of the magical creatures. “Fairies, they are fairies,” said Sara. One of the fairies flew over to the window and looked at Sara. The fairy was wearing a blue iridescent dress that matched her blue and purple iridescent wings. She smiled at Sara and then returned to her computer.
“Are you ready, Sara?” said Mr. Thompson as he exited the door.
“Yes, what are the fairies doing? They are fairies, aren’t they?”
“They are monitoring the internet. Tenebrae has been using the internet to plant seeds of evil which they will use to invade Earth. The fairies are removing the evil put onto the internet by Tenebrae.”
“Cool. Mr. Thompson, what will happen to the fairies and other magical creatures if I fail?”
“Remember Sara, you will not fail. What do you think the answer to that is, Sara?”
“Not good?”
“Tenebrae does not like good magical creatures, like fairies, that use white magic. I need to go into the map room for just a moment. You can wait right here.”
“Okay,” She said peering in the window.
Mr. Thompson entered the other room while Sara looked through the window. Inside the room was a very ugly creature. It reminded her of something from one of her nightmares, part wart hog, and part camel. The walls were covered in maps. One of the maps looked like her neighborhood and the creature was putting a red pin on her house. “That can’t be good,” she said. Mr. Thompson patted the creature on the hump and came back to the hall. Sara was still staring at the creature.
“I know Stanley takes a little getting used to, but he has been with me since the beginning and I would trust him with my life.”
“The fairies are so beautiful and he’s so, so....”
“Yes, they are and many good magical creatures are beautiful but some of the evil creatures are beautiful also. And some good magical creatures are, shall we say, unique looking. You mustn’t judge good or evil based on outward appearance, Sara. Always look for what is in the heart.”
“What do the red push pins mean, Mr. Thompson?” said Sara as she and Mr. Thompson walked towards the ominous door at the end of the hall.
“The red push pins designate where someone has been kidnapped. Your mother was not the first and she won’t be the last.”
Next to the door at the end of the hall was a plaque. The second name on the plaque was Thomas Tyrone Thompson. Stanley’s name was third. Also on the list were Grant S. Dalton, her teacher and Jackson Roberts, her father.
“Mr. Thompson, what is this plaque? It has my father’s name on it.”
“Ah,” smiled Mr. Thompson, reminiscing, “That is a plaque honoring the brave members of the Defenders of the White Star from about fifteen years ago. The first name on the list, Darrien G. Fulmer, was our leader. Well, we are here Sara, at the lab, where we can train you on how to use the magical talismans. Are you ready?”
“I’ll never be ready, but let’s go on anyway

September 26, 2010

2010-09-26T00:48:00.001-05:00

Poem for the week.

The story of us

You won’t come to me and I won’t come to you.
So we sit inside our misery apparently without a clue.
Knowing our inadequacies doesn’t clear our blame.
Knowing we let each other down only increases our blame.
I heard it said that there were so many easy solutions.
But they all seem to disappear as if they were only illusions.
So we both sit, lonely just a few feet apart.
Both of us silently breaking each other’s heart.
We sit in our silence and tell the world we tried.
We sit inside the bedroom and count the tears we’ve cried.
This isn’t what I wanted for the last years of our life.
And though it wasn’t planned I never intended to add to your strife.
But I really couldn’t take anymore; we couldn’t go back to the start.
I couldn’t be the person you wanted me to be without tearing my world apart.
So we wave good-bye to our happiness as it rides of in the dust.
We blame each other because there is no one we can trust.
We cannot go back in time, or can we smile and pretend.
We must face the lonely truth; this is where our story ends.

kidnapped Chapter Eleven

2010-09-25T13:52:00.003-05:00

You know the drill. Aug 24 & July 5

Chapter Eleven- The Food Tasters Die-t

Janet and Maggie stepped into their study. Appleton, unaware of their entrance, was paying too much attention to a fly as it buzzed from one spot to another. The fly didn’t know the toad was considering him as a light snack. Appleton, with the agility of a great hunter, poised himself for the strike, his tongue slowly unfurling towards the fly.
“Harrumph, Appleton,” said Maggie sharply, “You have lost your manners. Since when did it become unfashionable to bow when royalty enters a room?”
He jumped, his tongue, only centimeters from the oblivious fly, snapped back into his mouth with a loud popping sound. “My humblest apologies, your Evil-nesses, I was just going for an afternoon snack,” sputtered the toad.
The fly heard the pop and turned around. “Whew,” he said, wiping his forehead, “That was close.” He flew away, unaware that royalty had entered the room but glad not to be an afternoon snack.
“Appleton, how dare you think about yourself on such a momentous occasion? You should be thinking only of us,” Janet exclaimed.
“We have been waiting for such a long time for this to happen, Appleton. Give us some time to savor the moment,” Maggie remarked sternly.
Janet and Maggie stood facing each other, hands held in front and took a deep breath. They took a moment to shed just the correct amount of fake tears.
“Okay,” said Janet, “That is enough savoring. Appleton, where is our dearest little sister we have longed to be with, and her adorable little angelic daughter we have never had the pleasure of meeting?”
“Where’s Elizabeth and the kid?” amended Maggie.
Appleton backed away from the sisters. “Uh, you see, we do have Elizabeth but, Sara, the child, she was too heavily guarded. We have not been able to capture her yet, your Evil-nesses,” he said as he bowed to the Princesses, trembling.
“What!” yelled Maggie and Janet in unison, their faces turning a lovely shade of purple.
“You incompetent fool of a toad; we ask one simple assignment of you! I can’t be….” Janet yelled at the toad.
“Oh, dear daughters, could you help me?” said Queen Hillary as she stepped into the room, “Oh my, was I interrupting something?”
“Oh, no, not at all dearest mother,” said Maggie as she glared at the toad,” We were just visiting with our dear friend.”
The Queen motioned for the Princesses to join her at the door. “Are you aware, children,” she said. “You are speaking with a toad?”
“Oh, yes,” said Janet, “Toads are our friends.”
The Queen said, “They are disgusting creatures and I’ve always thought they were disgusting creatures.”
“But mother,” said Maggie, “You made many of the toads, don’t you remember? You were angry at our dear father and you turned him into a toad.”
“Ah, yes,” said the Queen, “I did, didn’t I? That was my toad phase and everyone I became angry with I turned into a toad. It was really quite fun. They are still very disgusting. Janet, that isn’t your father, is it?”
“No, mother, Appleton was your butler,” said Janet.
“Oh, yes, I remember. He let a mosquito get into my room,” the queen said with disdain as she eyed the toad.
“Mother,” said Maggie, “Did you want us for some reason?”
“Oh, yes,” said the Queen, “I almost forgot. I’m hungry and I can’t find my food taster.”
“Oh, dear,” said Janet. “I forgot to tell you, he quit. He decided to retire in the South. He left right after lunch this afternoon.”
“I just don’t understand,” said the Queen. “I can’t keep a food taster for more than a week. They are always retiring or quitting. And none of them come to tell me, they just don’t show up.”
“I know good help is so hard to find. I will send my groom to you. He can be your next taster.”
“Thank you dear daughter, you are so good to me. I always enjoy it when you take an active role in my health and assisting in the preparation of my food, like you did my lunch this afternoon. That was very sweet of you,” said the Queen.
“It is our pleasure, mother,” Maggie said.
“Send the groom to me immediately, I am very hungry,” said the Queen as she stepped out the door.
Janet laughed, “What happened to the taster this time, dearest sister?”
“I haven’t disposed of him yet, he’s right here,” said Maggie as she lifted the top of a cabinet. Inside the cabinet was a dead body.
“Ewww” said Appleton.
“It’s the price we must pay, Appleton, and speaking of price’s to pay, there will be a price to pay if we don’t see that child here very soon,” said Janet.
“Yes,” said Maggie, “We gave strict orders for you to bring back our sister and our brat niece. I do not recall anything in the order about bringing our niece back if it was convenient.” Maggie was livid.
“We tried every effort to secure the girl, she was too elusive. Every time I thought I had her, one of those guardians would show up. I did manage to bring back your sister,” pleaded Appleton.
“Very well, where have you taken our dear Elizabeth?” said Janet.
“Your sister is being held hostage in another room. Two of my men are guarding her as we speak.”
“Well, take us to see her you simpleton,” squealed Maggie.
“Yes, certainly your Evilness,” said Appleton, bowing respectfully, “Did I mention we have located the White Manor where your niece is being given sanctuary? It is only a matter of time before my operatives break the security of The Manor,” Appleton boasted.
“Well, then, what are you doing here. Go finish the job you were sent to do,” said Janet.
“Yes,” said Maggie, “And Appleton, I need not remind you, no one has disappointed us twice.”
“And lived to tell about it,” said Janet as she handed Appleton his green sports coat.

kidnapped Chapter Ten

2010-09-22T10:13:00.003-05:00

As always Chapter One is posted on August 25th and Chapter One of "The Last Chance" is posted on July 5th (I sound like a broken record)

Chapter Ten- Teachers Deliver Bad News, and it isn’t Homework

Sara slept comfortably in her soft bed. She had no nightmares, only dreams of winning American Idol.
Knock. Knock.
She looked at her watch; it was only 4:45 in the morning. She turned over to go back to sleep.
KNOCK. KNOCK.
“Okay, I’m awake,” she said, sitting up in her comfy new bed. “Just a minute,” she said, grabbing a robe from the closet door; the robe had not been there when she went to bed. She opened the door.
Mr. Dalton and Ms. Graham were standing at the door. They had been crying. Ms. Graham had a breakfast tray in her hands.
“Mr. Thompson would like to see you right away, as soon as you have dressed and have eaten,” said Ms. Graham as she placed the tray on the small desk in the room.
“And we would like to say good-bye Sara,” said Mr. Dalton patting he affectingly on the head.
“Are you leaving?” Sara said, knuckling sleep away absentmindedly.
“Actually, I believe you will be leaving very soon.” Ms. Graham said, holding back tears.
“No, I’m not leaving until my mom gets here.”
“Just get dressed and eat your breakfast, then go to see Mr. Thompson,” sniffled Ms. Graham. She reached over and gave Sara a big hug and a kiss on the forehead.
“We will miss you Sara. We have really enjoyed watching over you the last few weeks,” said Mr. Dalton, and then he gave her a hug also.
The two of them walked away, holding hands. Sara shut the door behind them. “Ewww… I didn’t need to see old people holding hands. Ewww, that’s so gross. I really didn’t need to be hugged by teachers, ewwww.”
She opened the closet door and pulled out the only outfit in there, her jeans and pink Minnie Mouse T-shirt, cleaned and neatly pressed.
Breakfast was delicious: corn flakes with elbow macaroni and anchovies with bacon on the side. Fantastic. Sara gobbled her breakfast down.
Dressed, fed, and ready to go, she stood up just as Bradford knocked on the door. “Are you ready Miss Sara?”
“Coming,” she said as she opened the door.
“You are meeting Mr. Thompson in his study.”
“Which door is that?”
“The door at the end of the hall.” Bradford said pointing to the same door she had exited the night before.
“That door goes to the dining room; I mean the TV Room, oh and yes the study too. This is very confusing, Jeeves.”
“You still haven’t guessed the secret of the door, Miss Sara?”
“I guess not. Maybe it is a bit indecisive.”
Bradford smiled. “No, Miss Sara, it knows exactly what it is doing. It is a magic door. It will take you wherever you need to be.”
Bradford opened the door. It led her to the Dining Room where Mr. Thompson was just finishing his breakfast. “Good morning Sara.”
Sara giggled and shut the door. “Let me try it,” she said opening the door that opened into the study. “Wait, I thought it was supposed to take me to Mr. Thompson. He is in the dining room.”
“Ah, but Sara, I am right here at my desk. We were planning to meet right here.”
“But, Mr. Thompson, you were just in the dining room.”
“Yes, I was, but I am in here now. Come sit down.”
Bradford closed the door.
“I trust you slept well, and your breakfast was satisfactory?”
“Yes, it was great.”
Mr. Thompson picked up a piece of paper lying on his desk, took off his glasses, and rubbed his eyes. He looked very tired. Sara sat up straight in her chair, “Mr. Thompson, are you okay?”
“Yes, Sara. I am. It’s just that what I have to tell you is very disturbing. We have been at your house and have investigated the situation. Tenebrae has learned to send instant messages even without an internet connection- very surprising. They sent the instant messages, Sara. I’m very glad you didn’t read them. They were very disturbing, very disturbing indeed. However, you will be glad to hear, we don’t think there were any monsters in the house that night. Earlier in the day, there were some rats and toads. Sara, we believe they have kidnapped your mother.”
“What! You were supposed to protect her!”
“Yes, and I’m afraid we failed.”
“What will they do to her?”
“The sisters will find a way to eliminate her- permanently.”
Sara stared at Mr. Thompson, her eyes wide with disbelief. Tears welled up in her eyes and she cried for a long time before she finally said, “You have to save her, Mr. Thompson.”
“Sara, you love your mother, I know that, but even more than that, she is crucial in our plan to put the white magic back in control of Tenebrae. She must be saved.”
“Then send someone to do it.”
“We can’t. The moment any of us step foot in Tenebrae, your aunt’s would know it and we would be arrested. We need someone to save her that the aunts haven’t got the magic signature on file.”
“Jeeves, er I mean Bradford could save her, he’s a smart guy, can’t he?”
“Bradford would very gladly do that for you, but he can’t. He’s from Earth. Although we can technically go back and forth, if we don’t mind the huge risk, if someone from Earth enters Tenebrae, they just sort of- well- blow up. It’s very messy.”
“Then who can save her?”
“You are our only chance.”
“Me? I’m only not old enough Mr. Thompson. I can’t even stay up late on school nights. There has to be someone else.”
“Perhaps when you get there you can find your father and he can help you.”
“My father is in Tenebrae?”
“Well, actually, he is in Libero Salus. He and his army are defending Libero Salus, but, I don’t know his whereabouts exactly.”
“Why can’t he do it?” Sara pleaded.
“We were supposed to start training you in the use of your white magic today. Your mother was going to train you in black magic so you could fulfill your destiny. Your mother’s kidnapping has put a little hiccup in our plans.”
“My destiny?”
“Yes, but now, we must rescue your mother first so she can teach you the use of black magic. None of us here knows it and it is very different than white magic. However, I have asked the wizards to whip up some magical talismans that can help you in your journey; it’s not as good as knowing magic, but better than nothing. You can see the talismans later this week, after you get some training on how to use your magic. It would take years to harness all of your magic, but due to time restraints we can only teach you the fundamentals”
“But, Mr. Thompson, even with the magic talismans, I just don’t see how I can help all by myself.”
“Sara, you must know a little of what I know. Number one, I know you are smart.” She shook her head no. “Now, just hear me out. I know you are smart; you don’t try as hard as you could in school, but you are highly intelligent like your mother. Your aunt’s, well neither of them are very smart- they are very evil and are very good at being evil- but they aren’t very smart. Number two, you may not realize it but you are very special. You have a lot of magical power, probably more than anyone in Tenebrae. I know you don’t know how to use it but it just might help you anyway. I believe it will be there when you need it.”
“Okay, Mr. Thompson, you win when do I leave?”
“Well, there are preparations we need to make. We need to familiarize you with the magical talismans. We need to program the teleporter. The programming takes about six hours and if it isn’t done just right, well you could land just anywhere. There is of course your basic training in the fine art of magic that should take a few days. However…” he picked up the paper he had been looking at when Sara entered, “these are trying times. Unfortunately we lack the time required to train you properly. There is no other way to say this, Sara you must do most of your training on your mission to save your mother. I have faith in your ability. So, you will probably leave in the morning. In the meantime, follow me. We will teach you as much as we can before you leave,” he said as he walked over to the history books and pulled three of them out. Swoosh. A hidden panel opened.
“Mr. Thompson, what happens if I fail?”
“Dear Sara, you won’t fail. If you failed it would be a disaster. Tenebrae will take over Libero Salus and then they will take over the defenseless Earth and enslave all the people.” He gently held her under her chin and looked in her eyes, “You won’t fail Sara. You are much stronger than you think.”

September 19, 2010

2010-09-19T00:56:00.001-05:00

Poem for the week

Fear

You sit inside your helpless mind, walled behind your fears.
Knowing if you give again it would only end in tears.

You turn off your dreams because no one will ever feel the same.
You double up your security and blame it all on your pain.

You tell yourself "It's far too soon to ever try again."
You sit inside your wounded heart and try to remember "when".

Look beyond your darkness, step into the light,
be the master of your future, not a slave to your fright.

Don’t be afraid to give your heart.
Never be afraid to fall in love.
That’s how a dream can start.

kidnapped Chapter Nine

2010-09-18T00:33:00.003-05:00

OK everybody say it with me, Chapter One is posted on August 24. Chapter One of "THE LAST CHANCE" is posted on July 5th. Poems are thrown between them.

Chapter Nine- Magic Spells, spell trouble

Sara stepped through the French doors into the study, though just a few minutes before; the French doors had led to the dining room.
Mr. Thompson was waiting for her, seated behind the desk. “Welcome back, Sara, I trust your visit with Tiffani was enjoyable? Help yourself to some cookies and have a seat.”
She sat down in the comfortable chair, her legs dangling over the left armrest and nibbled on her liverwurst cookie.
“Sara, what do you know of your life before you were born?” She looked up, puzzled. “Hmmm, you don’t remember anything at all?” She shook her head. “I see, and neither your father nor your mother has told you anything about their lives before or about magic, am I right?” She nodded. “It is as I feared. We have a long night ahead of us,” he said, pressing a button on the phone.
“Yes Sir,” said the phone.
“Bradford would you please call American Idol for me please tell them to hold off airing tonight? Yes I know it is a live broadcast, this can’t be helped. I may be awhile.” Pausing Mr. Thompson added, “Oh I don’t know have them broadcast anything, they should understand,”
He leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his back, his eyes closed. “I need to decide where to begin. You now know about Tenebrae, correct?” She nodded. “Let’s talk about magic, shall we?”
“Oh yes, please. You say I am magical? Can I fly? Can I make stuff disappear? Can I turn people into toads?”
“No- I don’t think so, yes and yes- but who would you want to turn into a toad?”
“No one- it would just be neat if I could.”
“The people of Tenebrae have had magic for thousands of years. Legend says it was given to a select few by a wise sorceress. Because we were human,” he saw the quizzical look on Sara’s face, “No we are not aliens we are very much humans. Does that surprise you?” Sara nodded. “The people on earth would be surprised if they knew just how many planets have intelligent life…”
“How many?” Sara interrupted.
“That is a discussion for another time, suffice to say we are human and fallible, the sorceress did not give any one person all the magic- it would make them too powerful. She split magic into two pieces, white and black. Some people and creatures were given white magic and others were given black. The type of magic traveled down from generation to generation through the father. The strength of the magic traveled down through the mother. In time, many of those with the black side of magic became evil. It is believed the magic changed them somewhat. Fortunately, queens with white magic ruled the Queendom. Two thousand years ago, the fair Queen Amelia fell in love with the evil Count Doldunt. Since then, the black magic has traveled through the Queendom, with each successive queen becoming even more evil than the last. It was interesting that you mentioned turning people into toads. Hillary, the current queen turns people into toads when she is angry with them. It is her favorite evil deed. You were followed by one today, Appleton. They have been hired to search for you.”
“Ewwww. But, Mr. Thompson, why did no one else notice a toad driving a car?”
“The toads have a magic spell on them. People without magic see them only as an ugly person.”
“Ahh that explains it.”
“Now, to your family. Queen Hillary is your grandmother. Your mother is the next heir to the throne.”
“Cool. I’m a princess. I always wanted to be a princess. Wait a minute, am I an evil princess? Mr. Thompson. There must be some mistake. I really don’t want to be evil, and I know my mother isn’t evil.”
“Sara you are not evil. Your mother is not evil. I said many of those with the black side of magic were not to be trusted, but not all of them are. Your mother never was bad, though she does have black magic. The magic itself is not dark or white. Black magic can be used for good and white magic can be used for evil.”
“Okay. So, once my mother gets the throne, Tenebrae will be good again, right?”
“If your mother goes back to Tenebrae, she will never make it to the throne. Her older sisters will have her killed long before she can take over the throne. They are the ones hiring the toads to find her.”
“Older sisters? So wouldn’t they be the heirs instead of my mom?”
“Funny detail about magic, it is condensed in the seventh born daughter or son. Therefore it was declared in Tenebrae a long time ago that any seventh daughter born would immediately become the heir. Queen Hillary was the seventh daughter and your mother is her seventh daughter. Your mother has some very strong magic.”
“Awesome.”
“Let’s change to a more urgent matter, we can come back to magic if you would like. Tiffani tells us you had a very interesting night last night. Would you like to tell me what happened?” continued Mr. Thompson.
“I came home from school and sat down at the table to do my homework, like I always do. And then….”
“Sara,” interrupted Mr. Thompson, “I think it would be most helpful if you were completely truthful.”
Sara turned red. “Ok, I didn’t do my homework. I sat down at the computer to check my email and talk to my friends on line, but no one was on line so I started playing a game. I kept getting this IM- it said, Sara are you there? It really scared me because it was from a stranger, and it came back even after I ignored it. I forgot to turn the internet off right away and the calamities must have gone into it. Even after I turned the internet off, the IM came back.”
“Calamities?”
“Yes. My mother always says, “If you leave the internet on all sorts of calamities can happen. I left it on and I battled monsters in the house all night.”
“Where was your mother, Sara?”
“I thought she was in her room with another headache. When I came home from school today, she wasn’t there. Mr. Thompson.”
“Do you have any idea where she might have gone?”
“Well, there was a note saying she was helping Aunt Abigail but I don’t have an Aunt Abigail.”
“Actually, you do have an Aunt Abigail. She lives in Boston.”
“I have an aunt in Boston? The note didn’t look like it came from my mother.”
“I can see your dilemma. I don’t think she went to visit your Aunt, but we should investigate the matter. ”
“I also left a note on my mom’s bed to say I love you yesterday morning and it was still there this afternoon. She did not sleep in her bed. And, her purse, keys, cell phone, and sunglasses were on her dresser.”
“Bradford,” said Mr. Thompson as he pressed the button on the phone.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Please send someone over to Sara’s house. I want to know what messages have been on the computer and look for signs of monsters, toads, and rats at the house.”
“Yes, Sir, immediately Sir.”
She started to cry. “Mr. Thompson, I’m really worried about my mother.”
“Sara, we will find your mother, I promise. In the meantime, would you like to join me in watching American Idol?” said Mr. Thompson, handing her a tissue. “Bradford please call Simon and say they may start the show after a short potty break.”
They stepped out through the study room door and directly into the TV room.
Later that evening, as Sara left the TV room, the door led to the hallway again.

Chapter Seven and Chapter Eight

2010-09-15T00:11:00.003-05:00

It's my birthday, so I thought I would give me a special treat and add two chapters today.
As always Chapter One is posted on August 25, and Chapter One of "The Last Chance" is posted on July 5.

Chapter Seven- Old Friends, not from Facebook

Most people said Elizabeth was unduly cautious, but she knew that one slip up could mean disaster for herself or for her young daughter. There was a time when the Roberts family could enjoy being a family, even go on a vacation every once in awhile.
She remembered a wonderful family trip to Disneyland just last year. Sara had ridden on Space Mountain at least five times and they had all enjoyed Splash Mountain immensely. Her husband, Jackson, had purchased the family picture. Even though this picture caught Elizabeth in the middle of a scream, her mouth wide open, and her eyes clamped shut. Sara, on the other hand, was smiling and had thrown her hands in the air. Sara had asked to go on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride and they could not explain to her, a toad spy might be hiding in the animatronics. They settled on Peter Pan instead. As they left the park, Sara was allowed to pick any t-shirt she wanted. Wouldn’t you know it; she picked a pink Minnie Mouse t-shirt. Imagine, her daughter walking around with a rodent on her shirt!
Since that trip, they moved constantly, always staying one step ahead of the toads. Fortunately, she was very sensitive to the magic of the toads. It gave her migraine headaches and this had helped her stay on the run.
She could sense something was wrong. She didn’t have a headache but something just wasn’t right.
She knew it was time to tell her daughter about everything.
She was just finishing the last batch of avocado muffins. The porridge and scrambled cottage cheese sat on a plate atop the kitchen table. “Tonight,” she whispered, “Tonight I will tell her.” She glanced down the hall and saw Sara coming out of the master bedroom. “Ok. What’s up Sara? You know you are not allowed in my room without permission.”
“Nothing,” said Sara, “Really, nothing at all,” she said as she sat at the table with a Cheshire cat smile on her face. Elizabeth put her hands on her hips as Sara shoveled the food into her mouth- not missing a crumb-, grabbed her backpack, and sprinted out the door for school.
“Sara,” her mother called, “we need to talk after school. It is urgent”.
She picked up the trash to take it out to the trashcans in the alley. As she was walking to the trash cans, she saw the tracks. Dozens of toad tracks and rat tracks pressed into the damp earth. Dropping the trash, she ran back into the house, closing and locking the back door as she did so. “I have to inform Thomas, we have been discovered. They’ve never been this close before.” She ran to her room to get her cell phone.
Midway down the hall she froze. It was too late. She heard the toad before she saw him. She turned to face him, and noticed he was not the lone toad in the room.
“Hello Liz, you have been avoiding us. Now, that isn’t very nice, is it? After all, Liz, we go back a long way, don’t we?” croaked the toad.
“Leave us alone, Appleton, we aren’t bothering anybody,” pleaded Liz.
“You know we can’t do that Liz. The fact that you are still breathing makes my employers nervous but, they want to solve that problem- personally. I just regret I didn’t get here soon enough to get that brat kid of yours before she got on that yellow bus. We almost had her,” sneered Appleton. Elizabeth turned to run as the toads unfurled their tongues and shot them at her.
She felt several stings as the poisonous tongues lanced her neck. As she stumbled she said, “I must say, Appleton, you really do look better as a toad.” She laughed at Appleton as her world went dark and she crumpled to the floor.
Appleton handed a note to one of the other toads with instructions to place it on the kitchen table. “Don’t disturb anything don’t tidy up, the dishes are to remain on the table am I clear Walter?”
#
Tiffani and Sara walked arm in arm to the French doors leading to the garden. Once outside, Sara stopped.
“What’s wrong, Sara?”
“It’s those statues, they are creepy. How about we stay right here?” The statues were turned and staring straight at Sara.
“Oh, they aren’t creepy. They are part of the protection system for The Manor. Come on.”
They strolled through the garden, Sara keeping her eye on those statues. As they walked, the statues followed her. She shivered.
“So, Sara, has your mother told you anything?”
“We talk all the time.”
“I mean about Tenebrae.”
“No, not about that. I don’t understand what’s going on, Tiffani. I’m very confused.”
“You were taken from our world by your mother and father when you were a baby. At around the same time, the Queen allowed people to leave our world if they first had their magic signatures taken. Tenebrae looks for these signatures and if we return, we will be killed or imprisoned. We can never go back. Even here many of us are hunted and are either killed or conveniently disappear. Word from back in Tenebrae is a lot of them ended up in Doldunt Prison.”
“Tiffani, that is terrible. Why doesn’t the United States Government do something about it?”
“Earth can never know about us; they wouldn’t understand. Some of us have volunteered as guardians, we protect the others. You were my most recent job.”
“How long have you been doing this?”
“Only about three years. I have waited patiently for the time I could be your guardian”
“Why, did you want to be my guardian? What makes me so special?”
“I will let Mr. Thompson tell you what makes you special. I want to say I am sorry for not going to English this morning, Ms. Graham knew about it, but was under strict orders not to reveal anything until we were sure you needed to get an invitation to the Manor. Please don’t ask me why you need to be here, Mr. Thompson will explain.”
“Why all the secrecy?” Sara asked. “Can you at least tell me where Tenebrae is located?”
“See the North Star?” Tiffani pointed to the North Star. “Count up seven stars and seven stars to the right. And like I said Mr. Thompson will explain everything.”
“You can’t even tell my why are you protecting me?
“I really don’t know everything, just that we all know you are special. Mr. Thompson hasn’t told me why you are so special but, no one has had three guardians at the same time before, so you must be pretty special. I have heard him mention about your destiny.”
“My destiny?”
“Yes. Listen, Sara. I really like you. I want you to be careful.”
Sara looked up. The statues had turned away and were looking towards the gate. Tiffani followed Sara’s eyes to the statues.
“That’s odd,” Tiffani said distracted.
“What is it, Tiffani?”
“I don’t know. It’s time for you to get back in the house now; Mr. Thompson does not like to be kept waiting and you wouldn’t want to be around him if you make him miss American Idol.” Tiffani smiled.
“Aren’t you going too?”
“No, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Sara watched as Tiffani walked towards the gate, her pony tail held in place by a blue ribbon. Sara turned around and went into the house.

Chapter Eight- Wicked Sisters of the Traveling Plans

Thirty - six years before, in Tenebrae….

“Mr. High Rat. You are in charge of our security, correct?” asked Maggie.
The High Rat looked at Princess Maggie suspiciously before he answered her question. “Yes, ma’am.”
“And you work for us, and must do anything we ask?”
“Not exactly, Ah work for your mother, th’ Queen. Why do ya’ll ask? ”
“Technicalities,” said nine year old Maggie, weighing her options. “How much does my mother pay you?”
“Enough for a single rat with no responsibilities, why do ya’ll ask?”
“My sister Janet and I have more spending money each week than you make in a year, am I right?”
“That is correct, Ah still don’t know why ya’ll’s askin.”
“How would you like to make a little extra money on the side?”
“What would Ah need to do?”
“Just make sure my sister Barbara is standing precisely here at exactly 3:15 tomorrow afternoon.”
“Ah reckon Ah can do that. Ya’ll plannin’ a small prank on your sistah?”
“Sure something like that,” Maggie said with a smirk.
At 3:15 the next afternoon, a large piece of the castle wall smashed Princess Barbara. There were few witnesses. One reported seeing the High Rat escort the Princess a few minutes earlier. Another witness reported seeing Princess Maggie and Princess Janet on the castle turret above just moments before the horrendous accident occurred. All the witnesses disappeared as several empty cells in Doldunt Prison became suddenly occupied. The High Rat was seen walking to his office with a large attaché case.
#
One year later…
“Mr. High Rat. I have another assignment for you,” ordered Janet.
“Ah reckon as long as it don’t include the injury of any of your sistahs. That last accident was most unfortunate.”
“No, of course not, but it would be a financially wise decision. I am doing a report on the terina bee and I need to study one. Could you get one for me?”
“Them there terina bees are very poisonous Princess Janet. It would be very expensive to acquire one of them on such short notice.”
“Oh, we are willing to pay well.”
“What would ya’ll like me to do with the bee once Ah find one?”
“You see that tower room over there, the one no one ever uses? Put it in there.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Three weeks later, a terina bee stung Princess Briana while she played hide and seek with Janet and Maggie.
There were no witnesses. Nevertheless, anyone found in the vicinity suddenly vanished, much like the previous unfortunate accident. The High Rat in charge of Princess Security was seen leaving the castle with two large attaché cases. He was never seen or heard from again.
Queen Hillary was alarmed. Her two oldest daughters had been killed in only two years. Someone was threatening the royal family. She spent several weeks concocting a special protection spell for herself and her daughters. “Anyone causing harm to any of the royal family shall receive the same in return.”
#
One month later…
“Teresa, we know who’s been murdering our sisters,” whispered Maggie.
“Yes, and we know who’s next on her list,” added Janet.
“Who?”
“It’s Abigail and you are next.”
“How do you know that?”
“We overheard her yesterday talking to her maidservant about how she was going to kill you.”
“Why?” asked Teresa.
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“She’s removing all of her competition for the throne. You are next in line to the throne. And we fear we will follow soon after your demise.”
“Oh, dear. I never thought about that, don’t worry dear sisters, I’ll take care of our dear sister,” said Theresa as she walked away.
One week later, an attempt was made on Abigail’s life. A part of the castle wall fell right next to her and a terina bee landed on her but did not sting. Her sister Theresa was stung by the bee and a falling castle wall crushed her.
#
Two months later, Queen Hillary gave birth to her seventh daughter, Elizabeth. The Queen announced her birth to the Queendom as follows: “I am pleased to present my seventh daughter, Elizabeth, as my chosen heir to the throne. In accordance with the rules of the Queendom, any seventh born daughter shall be the heir to the Queendom by virtue of the greater magical power inherent within her.”
Janet and Maggie were not pleased. For the first time in many years, they spent long hours studying the rules of the Queendom. They hired scribes to study more. The law was clear; Elizabeth was the heir.
#
Today in Tenebrae…
Janet and Maggie were in the middle of their weekly meeting. It was Janet’s turn to host the meeting in her sitting room with magenta curtains and magenta upholstery. A beautiful cherry curio cabinet with all of her evil talisman’s lined up in order from shortest to tallest stood by the door. Everything in the room was lined up from shortest to tallest. Janet even remodeled the doors and windows to match the slanting décor. Janet was pacing back and forth in front of the slanted windows.
“I can’t believe how long it is taking for dear Mummy to succumb to the poison,” said Maggie, standing in front of the curio cabinet and rearranging the talismans in tallest to shortest.
“Shh, dear Sister, the walls have ears,” cautioned Janet.
“That is very true, dearest Janet, but let’s not forget just who pays the wages of those ears; I believe that happens to be us,” cackled Maggie.
“Mother is being so stubborn, but stubbornness does run in the family. Remember when we tried to get our dearest sister to jump off a cliff and take the screaming brat Liz with her?”
“Yes, I remember. Her name was Abigail, wasn’t it?” said Maggie.
“It doesn’t really matter what her name is or was, does it Maggie?” Janet said while rearranging the talisman’s in order from shortest to tallest. She walked over to the window and stared out. “If the urchin had just done as we suggested, we would not be in this predicament.”
“I was sure it would work. Remember Theresa?”
Janet smiled. “Oh, poor sweet sister, dearest Theresa, she was so gullible.”
“Oh, yes, she just gobbled it all up. She wasn’t very creative though,” laughed Maggie, as she rearranged the talismans.
“That was so perfect. Dear Mother just took it all in. It convinced her that Theresa was the guilty party all along.” Both sisters laughed, tears streaming down their faces.
“Past victories aside, we still have the Elizabeth problem,” said Maggie eyeing the talismans...
Janet looked at her rearranged talismans with amazement. How or how had they moved themselves? “Maggie, you really know how to spoil my fun. Have you thought of another way to kill her?” she said, rearranging the talismans in order of shortest to tallest.
“Oh, Janet, if you don’t stop second guessing every evil move I make, I’m not going to share my crown with you,” yelled Maggie.
“Share your crown with ME?” screamed Janet, “I might not share my crown with you!”
“Just one second there, dearest Janet, it is I who plan to share MY crown with you. After all, I was the first born,” jeered Maggie.
“Oh, no dear Sister, you were born first by mere seconds. I would have been first had you not pushed me out of the way,” Janet said looking at the talismans, rearranging them again.
Maggie smiled, “Ahh, but dearest, dearest little Sister, I most certainly did not push you away. You were just slow to react. Besides,” she said turning away from Janet and rearranging the talismans again, “it is not important now, dearest. Another simple twist of fate puts Elizabeth’s claims on the crown above our own.”
“Oh, I don’t think we need to worry about our little baby sister. I forgot to tell you, dear Sister. I had the foresight to place an operative at a popular theme park and he spotted the whole family outside his station, Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride last year. They were followed. Appleton is on his way right now to retrieve our dearest sister and her brat child.”
Maggie retorted, “Bringing Elizabeth here would not solve our problem. Mother still has that annoying protection spell in place. True, we can bend the spell’s protection against Mother but we haven’t been able to budge the protection against Elizabeth.”
“I was saving that for last. Elizabeth has been protecting her child from us,” Janet said.
“Of course she has been protecting her from us! We want her dead,” Maggie cackled.
“Doesn’t that make Elizabeth a guardian? And hasn’t our mother made it against the law and subject to penalty of death to be a guardian, if one should happen to reappear in Tenebrae? Well our dearest sister and her lovely brat daughter are about to take an all expenses paid vacation.” Maggie said with a sinister smile.
“Splendid the spell does not protect her daughter, does it?”
“Exactly dear Sister,” said Janet folding her hands across her chest.
“My dear Sister, I haven’t given you proper credit, you are much more dastardly than I thought. This just might work,” said Maggie sweetly while thinking, “I mustn’t let her get the upper hand on me again.”
Knock Knock.
“Enter,” she said.
The servant girl, Alice, entered the room. “Pardon the interruption, your Evilness, you have a visitor. It is a devious looking toad. I believe it is Appleton,” said Alice as she went to her knees and bowed until her head touched the floor.
“Show Mr. Appleton into the study and please tell him we will attend to him momentarily. Now, leave us girl!” demanded Janet. As soon as the girl had left and shut the door behind her, Janet and Maggie both skipped around like school children. “It looks like our hard work has finally paid off,” said the sisters as they left the sitting room arm-in-arm and headed to their reward, waiting in the study.
As they were leaving, Janet stopped suddenly and said, “Dear Sister, I think one of our dearly departed sisters’ ghosts may be haunting us. My evil talismans keep rearranging themselves.”
“My dear Sister,” said Maggie, “I believe you may be right, they are doing the same to me.”

September 12, 2010

2010-09-12T00:21:00.001-05:00

Poem for the week.

FREEDOM

You say you like freedom and running around.
There is no use trying tying you down.
You don't want commitments you can't stay with just one.
Life's too short, so you grab when you can.
When will you learn being free and alone are one and the same.
And dying of loneliness is no kind of fame.
It's breaking my heart, I've tried, but I just can't win
but you only get out of what you put in.
You say you need freedom and you'll never be tame.
When will you learn being free and alone are one and the same.

kidnapped Chapter Six

2010-09-11T01:30:00.003-05:00

Chapter One is posted on August 25
The Last Chance Chapter One is posted on July 5

Chapter Six- Guess Who’s Coming for Dinner

Bradford escorted Sara from the study. She looked at her Minnie Mouse shirt puzzled, what could possibly be wrong with her shirt? The tall man ushered her through a white door with a small blue star centered in the door and led Sara into the hallway. “That is your room at the end of the hallway,” he said.
“Why do I have to change my shirt? I love this shirt. My father bought it for me at Disneyland! Does Mr. Thompson have a thing against amusement parks, or something?”
“It would be too complicated to explain now. I can only say the other guests at The Manor are not fond of rodents or amphibians, famous or infamous. I’m sure Mr. Thompson will explain later,” he said as he opened the door at the end of the hall. “Dinner is in twenty-three minutes. There are clean clothes in the closet.”
“Thanks Jeeves,” Sara said.
If Bradford had been offended by being called Jeeves he didn’t show it, he simply smiled and closed the door. Sara looked around. The centerpiece of the room was a large four poster bed with an ornate canopy from which hung exquisite bed curtains. On top of the bed was a beautiful handmade down quilted comforter. Massive down pillows lay on top of the comforter. The bed curtains, comforter, and pillow cases were all sky blue with tiny white stars. This Thompson dude sure has a thing for blue and stars, Sara thought as she made a perfect swan dive into the bed.
“Ah, this is fantastic. This is the most comfortable bed in the world. It’s a princess bed,” she said rolling around in the soft covers.
Reluctantly, she got up, went to the closet, and pulled out the first item she touched, a green dress embossed with a white star on the collar. Looking through the closet, it was full of clothes, all her size, but none of them any more exciting than the dress she pulled out. She changed into a yellow dress with a red star over her heart. She tossed her jeans and Minnie in the corner. At home she would have neatly folded them and placed them in the dirty clothes hamper, but for some reason she was feeling reckless.
After changing, she lay down on the bed and waited for Bradford. The softness of the bed was lulling her to sleep when Bradford knocked at the door.
He led her to the white door with the tiny blue star at the end of the hall. ‘You are the first to arrive, the others will be alone shortly,” he said as he reached for the door handle.
“This is the door to the study, Jeeves. We just left there. Remember?”
“Perhaps, or perhaps not,” he said as he opened the door and revealed a long dining room. The dining room table was intricately carved with stars and the dishes were also predominantly designed with a blue background and white stars around the border.
“Mr. Thompson must really like stars or blue,” she thought.
Bradford pulled out a chair. “He does have a penchant for both. Have a seat, Miss Sara; the others will be entering shortly.”
Other members of the household began to enter the room and sit down. All of them were staring at Sara and they all looked familiar to her. There were former teachers, neighbors, and babysitters, all sitting around the table staring at Sara. Five seats remained unfilled. Mr. Dalton, Ms. Graham, filling two seats. Sara let out a small gasp. Ms. Graham smiled; while Mr. Dalton gave her the usual, middle school counselor all knowing stare. Bradford came in next followed by Mr. Thompson. There was one empty chair remaining to be filled. Mr. Thompson rose and tapped his fork against his glass, “I hope you will forgive me for my theatrics, but as you can see we have one more chair to fill. I do so love a good suspense, don’t you Sara? Without further adieu allow me to bring in our hostess for this evening, although I believe you might already be acquainted with her.” After Mr. Thompson sat down Tiffani walked in and sat at the table and winked at Sara.
“Tiffani!”
“Surprise, I wanted to tell you at school earlier, but couldn’t”
“What are you doing here?”
“It will all be explained in time, Sara,” said Mr. Thompson “It is time for our first course of dinner.” He jingled a small bell and several servants came in carrying trays of food: peanut butter and pickle soup.
After finishing his soup, Mr. Dalton explained to Sara, “You see, Sara. We are all guardians; we have sworn to protect others. All of us have been assigned, at some point in your life, to protect you.”
“Protect me from what?”
Mr. Thompson jingled the bell and the main course was delivered: roast beef marinated in vinegar and mayonnaise, peas and pears in tomato sauce, and mashed potatoes with plum and cornflakes gravy.
“We are all from another world, Sara,” Ms. Graham explained as she dabbed the corner of her mouth with a sky blue napkin.
“You are aliens from outer space? Have I been abducted by aliens?”
“You have not been abducted; you are one of us.” Mr. Thompson said as he cut a piece of roast beef. Everyone at the table nodded their heads.
“Get out of here! I’m being punked, right,” Sara said, looking at Tiffani for support.
“Actually, Bradford is the only one here that is actually from Earth. We are from a place far away called Tenebrae. Two thousand years ago it was taken over by evil; causing a small portion of the country adhering to the old ways to split off and become Libero Salus. However, we have plenty of time to go into the exact details, suffice to say these are dire times, and it is now time to implement our next, er for lack of words, let’s just say our next step ” said Mr. Thompson.
“You guys are crazy, right? Did my mom put you up to this?” said Sara as she sat up from the table.
“I wish we were, Sara. Sit down please. We will discuss your mother later tonight; I can prove what I say. Our world is a place of deep magic. Magical persons from Tenebrae have a symbol of their magic on the palm of their hand. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you Sara?”
Everyone at the table, except Bradford, raised their right palms to reveal tiny white stars. Sara raised her hand. In the center was a tiny black star. Everyone around the table gasped. Her ex-babysitter, an old woman of about 40, swooned. Bradford jumped up to help her.
“Please relax everyone. I suspected Sara’s star might be black. It probably changes from black to white and back again, does it not Sara?”
“Yes, it does, and it is annoying”
“That is what makes you special among us, Sara.” He jingled the bell again and dessert was served: asparagus and onion parfait. “After dessert, Tiffani, you and Sara may take a walk in the garden if you would like and have some time together. At precisely eight oh four, I need to talk to Sara for awhile and then we don’t want to miss the audition rounds of American Idol tonight,” said Mr. Thompson as he started eating his parfait.
#
Sub Commander Jackson Roberts sat at his desk in the dark, damp cave the Senate had chosen for the base of operations for the entire army of Libero Salus forces. His troops were under-armed, under-paid, under-trained, and under-budgeted.
The High Commander repeatedly explained to him, “Libero Salus has a long standing treaty with Tenebrae and any show of force would only convince Queen Hillary to break the treaty. Her large, well maintained, superbly trained offensive forces could then invade the last vestiges of Libero Salus.”
He had pleaded to the High Commander for more men, more money, and a chance to make his forces as good as or even better than the Queen’s but with no success. Jackson reviewed his options. The only chance to fight Tenebrae was covertly. He had once belonged to an organization that was doing just that- The Defenders of the White Star. Queen Hillary had caught the leaders and executed or imprisoned them. The organization disbanded. Afterwards, the Queen declared a departure amnesty to Earth for all the remaining members and/or potential members.
Jackson, his wife, and newborn daughter had escaped at that time with the help of forged papers from the Guardians. Ever since, the three of them had been running. Queen Hillary wanted Elizabeth back. After all, she was the heir to the Queendom. Jackson subsequently returned to lead the inept opposition forces.
Maggie and Janet, Elizabeth’s older sisters, wanted her dead, insuring the throne for themselves. They had already mysteriously disposed of three older sisters before Elizabeth was even born. They were gradually poisoning their mother to death. Once she succumbed, only Elizabeth would stand in the way. The sisters hired toads and rats to hunt down the Jackson family. The family had been running ever since. Jackson’s only hope was that Thomas, the leader of the Guardians, would keep them safe while he was stuck here in this dead end army.
If only he had cell phone reception or internet, he could check on them and make sure they were all okay. He had promised to email them daily. Looking down at the picture of the three of them at Splash Mountain, he smiled, remembering the look on his wife’s face when Sara picked out a Minnie Mouse t-shirt. “They need me at home. They need me to protect them from Queen Hillary and her daughters,” he said. He closed his eyes and imagined his daughter screaming from delight as the roller coaster twisted and turned. Then the screams of joy turned into screams of terror as he imagined her captured by the toads.

Barathrum Chapter One

2010-09-09T20:58:00.003-05:00

I'm trying something new, this is the first chapter of the sequel to Tenebrae. I am only going to post chapter one until I have posted the chapters of Tenebrae.

Barathrum is Latin for infernal land.

Don't read this if you dont want the end of Tenebrae spoiled.

I would also like to know what you think of the chapter. You can either leave a comment or email me at raballard@mchsi.com

Thank you/

Chapter 1 Sara’s not quite home, homecoming.

Darkness permeated around as the fear began to consume her. Sara could not see her hands before her eyes. Where were Tenebrae’s two green moons? The mist from her dream faded away like a Popsicle on a hot summer day. She had left Tenebrae with her mother, but could not remember when. A sudden realization hit her, if she was no longer at Douldunt prison, then where was she? Why was it so dark? Where was her mother?
“Mom, mom, are you there?” there was no answer. Sara had no doubt she was alone. She fought back the tears. The harrowing events from the day before leaped into her mind, “yes it was yesterday when we entered the transporter and left the graveyard.” Yesterday seemed like ages ago, she had been through so much in the last few days. Rescuing her mother, father and the other prisoners from her villainous aunts was not an easy task. Without the help from the most unlikely bunch of misfits she might never have been able to free her parents from Doldunt Prison. It broke her heart when her father elected to remain to further their cause. In the end she knew her father had made the right choice. Now all that was on her mind was the darkness that enveloped her like an ominous void. She really didn’t need more trouble. Lately trouble followed her around like a lost puppy. Could something terrible have gone wrong? Was her mother unharmed?
Eerie footsteps coming towards her startled Sara back to reality. The footsteps were all she needed to trigger her overactive imagination. In the opaque darkness she imagined that the footsteps belonged to some kind of calamity. Even worse they belonged to Appleton, her aunt’s evil cruel henchman. Appleton’s barbaric interrogation was fresh on her mind. How could she have been so careless? She had rescued her mother from one perilous situation, only to fall victim to another. “I need to come up with a really good plan to rescue mom, again” she said to herself. “And I really need to stop talking to myself. It’s starting to annoy me.” The mysterious plunking sound of every step was getting louder. The menacing footsteps finally stopped. The darkness prevented her from seeing where they had stopped. Silence crept around her. Fear gripped her. She had run out of time.
When was she going to learn that evil, creepy, and unfortunately related creatures had every intention of winning the fight in the end? She had won the first round when she rescued her mother and the others from Doldunt Prison and her demented aunts. She should have stopped them when she had a chance, but she let them go. The darkness and the silence spelled doom, and the ultimately losing the second round, and possibly the match. Sara felt around beside her for some kind of weapon, but there was none to be found.
A creaking sound shattered the silence, the faint glow of an opened door crept through the darkness. A voice came through he opened door “Honey, you can’t to sleep all day? We really have a lot to do. I let you sleep, you needed your rest, but it is time to get up.
“Is that you mom?” she asked hesitantly, afraid of what the answer would be. Sara was leery of the voice, it sounded like her mother, but then Appleton was capable of many dastardly evil things.
What if he had recaptured her mother and transformed into a replica a non-human copy? Anything was possible as long as aunts were involved. They determined to destroy everyone who stood in their way in obtaining the throne to Tenenbrae. “Well of course it is you silly goose. Who else would be calling you honey?”
“I thought something evil had happened to you.” Sara relieved, her mom was all right and had not fallen a victim to an evil kidnapper again.
“Something evil did happen to me. My unscrupulous sisters sent that odious toad Appleton to kidnap me. Maggie and Janet tried me as a traitor, and threw me into Doldunt Prison. Then for good measure they had the audacity to almost execute me. Other than that I’ve never felt better.”
Sara asked, “Mom where are we? And how did I get here?”
“I’m not sure where we are, although everything looks vaguely familiar as if I’ve been here before,” mom said, still standing in the doorway.
“That really doesn’t tell me how I got here, and why is it so dark in here?” Sara stated flatly.
You were asleep when we got here you looked so peaceful I thought I would let you sleep.” Elizabeth flipped the light switch on, flooding the room with light, “it’s dark because the lights were turned off.”
. “Why do you have a feeling you’ve been here before?” Sara said as she rubbed the remaining sleep from her eyes allowing them to get used to the sudden burst of light..
“Sara you need to hurry. I put your shoes in the corner.”
“Coming mother” Sara shivered as her feet hit the cold floor.
Sara looked into her mother’s eyes. Her mother’s smile comforted her. This was no replica.
Elizabeth reached out and hugged her daughter. “We need to figure out where we are, and how to get home.”
Sara took one swift glance at the hallway behind her mother. “I know where we are mom” Sara said. “We are in Mr. Thompson’s mansion. I was here just before I was sent to rescue you and dad.”
“So that’s why everything looks kind of familiar. I haven’t been here in such a long time. This is where those that chose to leave Tenebrae started their new life. You were only a baby.”
“See, that was easy, problem solved, case closed. Everyone will be waiting for us on the other side of that door.” Sara said triumphantly, as she pointed in the direction of the door on the opposite side of the hallway. “Tiffani will be there too. She’ll be worried about me, Hurry mom, I need to tell her all about my adventure and let her know we survived.” Tiffani had been the latest of a long list of best friends. The last time she saw her was the night before she left to rescue her parents.
“Sara, I checked the doors are locked from the inside. There isn’t anyone waiting for us on the other side of any door.”
“You’re wrong mom. The doors aren’t locked, they’re magical” Sara said. “That must be it; the doors wanted you to wait for me. We need to report to Mr. Thompson, together. He will want to hear all the details of my heroic rescue, he will be so happy to see that you are safe. I’ll probably get a medal. You don’t believe me? Just wait and see, everyone is waiting for us.”
“OK Sara, but I’ve tried to open every door along the corridor, they’re all locked,”
“Sheeesh mom, they are, like magical doors, magical doors will open for me”
“Go check the doors out for yourself” is all her mother said.
“Come on mom, I need to see Tiffani.” Sara yelled behind her as she sprinted down the corridor, in track-star speed. Sara was jiggling the door handle in desperation as her mother caught up to her. Sara looked up at her mother. Tears rolling down her cheeks “You’re right it’s locked mom” she said, as she jiggled the handle one last time.
“I know Dear, I tried to tell you that. Sometimes you are so stubborn. You needed to find out for yourself” she said, stroking her daughter’s hair, to comfort her.
Sara turned to look at her mother. Tears continued to stream down her cheeks. “What more do they want from me?” She sat on the floor defeated. Looking up at her mother, tears continued to flow. “Mom, why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?” Elizabeth asked, even thought she already knew what her daughter was asking.
“Everything mom, you should have told me everything.” Sara pleaded, while she tried her to stop the tears from falling.
“Telling you everything isn’t all that easy”
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she said “Yes mom, why didn’t you tell me about Tiffani?”
“Tiffani is your friend, and a guardian. However she is a friend first. Her request to continue as your permanent guardian has already been approved by the council.”
“What council? Who is in the council?”
“Well, there is Mr. Thompson, Bradford and five others.”
“Aren’t you and dad in this council?” Sara asked, looking for answers.
“No, Sara the laws prohibit our inclusion in matters that concern the council. I can’t be a council member because of who I am, and your father has a more important duty”
“You’re confusing me mother. Who are you, what exactly does dad do? What do you mean by others?”
“Sara after your latest excursion you know very well who I am and your father’s duty, among defending against the forces of Tenenbrae, he is also responsible for reporting any suspicious activity to the council. I said others because there are others from Tenebrae that need protection. You didn’t think we were the only ones did you?”
“I didn’t know we were in need of protection until a few days ago. So I haven’t given it much thought. I thought I knew who you are, you’re my mother. I know now you have a couple of sisters that don’t like you too much. Is my guidance counselor Mr. Dalton a member?”
“I’m a princess of Tenebrae, heir to the throne. You know that, what are you asking me Sara? And is Mr. Dalton a member of what?”
“Is he a member of the council?”
“No, Sara, I don’t think so. I don’t see any reason why he couldn’t be a member. Like I said I can only know the identity of two of the seven, for security reasons. Sara there is still something on your mind.”
“Nothing really, it’s just I was hoping that I was normal. You know; the not magical kind of normal.”
“I’m sorry Sara. I have no control over what I am. I can only control who I am. It’s been my goal in life, to give you as normal a life as possible. Sara I’m doing my very best, to provide you some sort of stable, normal life.”
“I’m sorry mom; I know you are doing all you can do. I just want to know why you didn’t tell me about your past live, or that pesky obnoxious star on my palm.”
“I was supposed to tell you long ago, but was too afraid to tell you. I was going to tell you everything when you got home from school the day I was kidnapped. I’m so sorry; I should have told you everything a few years ago. As for the star, you should be proud of that star, it symbolizes your heritage. Our star is different than the rest; the slight difference indicates our royal lineage.”
“You can tell me everything now. It looks as if we have plenty of time, at least until we figure out a way to unlock these doors”
“Where do I start? There is so much to tell you.”
“Maybe you should just tell me the highlights, leave out the part where Mr. Dalton is holding hands with my English teacher Miss Graham.”
“Mr. Dalton and Miss Graham were holding hands?”
“Yup!”
“Isn’t that sweet? I don’t think any other guardians have ever fallen in-love with each other before.”
“Mom it is like gross, yuck,” Sara said making a sour face.
“It isn’t gross, it’s romantic” Elizabeth said
“You might think its romantic, but I still think it’s gross. Tell me all what gives with Appleton, why is so mean? Mom he scares me.. Now tell me everything.”
Elizabeth told her daughter everything. Starting at the beginning and stopped only long enough to answer any questions Sara asked.
“Wow, so Appleton was once a butler? I would think he would avoid your family like the plague after they turned him into a toad. You had four other sisters? I can’t believe Frankful had any part in their deaths.”
“Frankful? Who’s Frankful? Oh that must be the name of the High Rat, funny I never knew his name before.”
“Well it’s Frankful Blessing, he’s Captain Blessing’s brother. I really do have an Aunt Abigail?” Sara slowed down to catch her breath. “If you really don’t want the throne why can’t you just tell your sisters that? Maybe they would leave us alone.”
“It isn’t that easy, the heir to the throne can’t just walk away from her duties, I should know I tried. Maggie and Janet know that and will never give up until I’m…let’s just say they won’t give up, ever.”
A loud clicking sound came from the door, Sara reached up and jiggled the door handle; the door was no longer locked.

kidnapped Chapter 5

2010-09-08T00:05:00.002-05:00

Chapter One is posted on August 25th
Chapter One of The Last Chance is posted on July 5th

Chapter Five- Mind Your Manors

Sara removed her cell phone from her front backpack and called her mother.
“When you wish upon a star, makes no difference who you are….” She heard her mother’s ringtone.
She followed the sound of the singing phone to her mother’s room. Lying on the dresser was her mother’s cell phone, purse with keys inside, and sunglasses. Looking around the room, her eyes settled on the note lying on her mother’s pillow.
Yesterday morning, while her mother was making a special breakfast, Sara had slipped into her mother’s bedroom and placed a note on her pillow, a little reminder to say she loved her. After that, she returned to the kitchen and enjoyed a delicious scrambled cottage cheese with peas, porridge, and an avocado muffin. Now, a day later, the note still lay on the pillow undisturbed.
Her mother had not been home long enough to read the love note yesterday. Her mother would not have left without reading her note.
Knock Knock.
Sara jumped.
“Thomas T. Thompson. Is he the bad guy? Or is he the good guy?”
She looked at her mother’s cell phone. There were four missed calls. One was from her. The other three were from Thomas.
Sara put her mother’s cell phone, sunglasses, purse, and the note from the pillow in her backpack. She turned from her mother’s room, trembling and wiping a tear from her eye, and went to the front door.
A short man in a pure white suit stood at the doorway. He had short, cropped pure white hair, and grey eyes. He held his hat and sunglasses in his hands. Remembering her mother’s concerns for safety, and to never talk to strangers she said, “Do you have some ID? I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”
The chauffeur smiled a slight grin and reached into the inside pocket of his suit. He produced a blue card with a large white star on it, Thomas T. Thompson Enterprises and gave it to her.
She studied the card, flipping it over to look at the back of the card, and then the front again. Satisfied she returned the card. She thought she must be insane, she was about to get into a limo with a man she had just met, and go see a man she had never heard of. She would be locked in her room trembling in fear if it hadn’t been for the missed calls from a man called Thomas. Shutting the door behind her, she followed the man in the white suit. She had never noticed the small toad and rat tracks outside or the dropped garbage bags by the back door. She had never noticed the instant message on her computer- “WE HAVE YOUR MOTHER. YOU ARE NEXT! THERE IS NO PLACE YOU CAN HIDE.” Arriving at the limo, she glanced back at her house before she tumbled inside the door.
She played with the gadgets in the limo, momentarily forgetting all her problems. She did not notice the car parked behind them- the car with the toad in an ugly green suit.
“Better hang on, Miss Roberts.”
She put on her seat belt and held on for dear life as the car careened out of the parking spot and turned right, left and right again, throughout the neighborhood. The limo pulled onto the freeway.
“Miss Roberts, we should have a smooth ride from here on. It will be lengthy, however. There are some refreshments in the refrigerator, sodas and some homemade liverwurst cookies; try one, they are delicious.”
Opening the refrigerator, she pulled out a Mountain Dew and a cookie.
“MMM…This is great, even better than my mom’s.” she said as she licked the crumbs from her finger.
“I am glad you like them.”
Her eyes began to get heavy. She was tired. It had been a long day. She was exhausted. She drank more Mountain Dew; it always kept her awake. It wasn’t keeping her awake today. It wasn’t wise to fall asleep in the limo with a stranger. She fought a valiant battle to remain awake.
She lost.
“I’m so sorry Miss Roberts. Precautions need to be taken. The location of The Manor must be kept secret,” said the driver.
The limo drove several miles, took an exit off the freeway, turned down a quiet, deserted country road, and vanished.
#
Teleportation is still not an exact science. The landings can be unpredictable, especially if the calculations are not configured correctly. Landings are often bumpy. The science has improved over the years, however. In the first experiment, an unsuspecting volunteer in a light blue carriage was to be transported twenty miles. The rear of the carriage arrived unscathed but the front of the carriage and the driver disappeared.
Fortunately for Sara, the transport to and from Earth and The Manor had been perfected and stored in the Limo’s computer. Bumpy landings, however, were still a problem.
#
Sara was suddenly awakened by a sharp jerk and a thud.
“Ah, Miss Roberts, you are awake. Did you enjoy your nap? We have arrived.”
She sat up, looking around her and rubbing her eyes. She was greeted by a security camera. On either side of the limo was a long white brick wall extending as far as she could see. In front of the limo was a very impressive wrought iron gate with an enormous white star in the center.
Looking at her palm, the star was white.
The chauffeur punched digits into the security system. Sara couldn’t help notice that the numbers were her birthday. The gate disappeared and reappeared once they passed.
The limo continued up a long, straight driveway towards a beautiful white mansion. Along one side of the driveway was a topiary garden of trees and bushes shaped to look like the strangest animals she had ever seen. One was a winged horse and another looked like a lion’s body but with the head of an eagle. On the other side of the driveway were large statues of men and women. As the limo passed each statue, it turned and stared at the limo. They were frightening; she had scarystatueaphobia. She closed her eyes and did not open them again until the limo stopped in front of the mansion.
The chauffeur led her to the walkway. “They are expecting you, Miss Roberts,” he said, nodding towards the ornate, white front door carved with stars.
Hesitating, she wished for some courage building Doritos as she pushed the bell. The door opened.
A very tall man in a white suit answered the door. The man had striking blue eyes and was bald with the exception of a half ring of brown hair. He looked down analyzing her with his hypnotic eyes. “Mr. Thompson wishes to extend his deepest regrets for the clandestine manner in which this meeting has been arranged.” He spoke in a very strong British accent.
The entry way was adorned with a coat of arms hanging on the wall centered between two ancient looking suits of armor. The coat of arms was deep blue on a pure white background. There was one large white star on the top left corner and a large camel like animal gazing at the star. The bottom of the coat of arms had crossing swords. Written under the swords the words Defenders appeared. The suits of armors were much like ones she had seen the movies. Both carried long swords pointing upwards in front of their face. The blue hilt of each sword carried a small white star.
The tall man led her down a long hallway. Antique desks were spaced along the hallway, each table had what appeared to be priceless items. Each item had some kind of a star upon it. They stopped in front of a set of huge double blue doors; each door had a white star centered about three/fourths of the way up. Pushing open one door he said, “This is the study, Miss Sara; the Master will join you shortly.” He clicked his heels together, bent slightly about the waist and quickly reeled around and was gone.
She walked around the study. Books in floor to ceiling bookcases covered the walls. All s of the books were out of alphabetical order. She wanted to correct them but restrained herself. In the center of the study sat a large desk. On it she found an ancient looking ornate lamp, a large jar full of cell phone batteries, and a weird looking phone. No papers. No files. She found nothing telling her who Thomas T. Thompson was.
The door opened and the oldest man Sara had ever seen in her life shuffled into the room. His wrinkles had wrinkles. He extended his bony, wrinkled, and brown spotted hand to Sara.
“Sara Roberts, it is indeed an honor to meet you. I have known your family for a long time,” the old man said. He kept his hand out. Despite a severe case of bonyhandaphobia, she reached out and touched his hand, afraid of breaking it, and shook it very lightly. Showing surprising strength, the old man grabbed her hand and shook it vigorously.
Mr. Thompson’s eyes settled on the backpack Sara had dropped in the middle of the floor and his demeanor changed very quickly. “Pardon my impertinence, but it is imperative I see your backpack immediately.”
“Why,” she said, placing the backpack on the desk and emptying the contents. The tall man walked in and stood by the desk.
“Scan the contents carefully, Bradford,” said the old man as he handed the purse to the tall man.
“That’s my mother’s purse, Mr. Thompson; she left it at home before she went to visit an Aunt I didn’t even know existed.”
“We’ll discuss that later, Sara,” said Mr. Thompson as he rummaged through the remaining contents. His eyes landed on the cell phones and the look on his face switched from mild curiosity to intense concern. He removed the battery from the each cell phone and put it them in the jar of cell phone batteries. “I’m sorry, Sara, but I forgot to tell you the rules concerning cell phones at The Manor. They are expressly forbidden.”
“I hope we were in time, Sir.”
“I’m sure we will be just fine, Bradford.” He turned to Sara, “You see, Sara, cell phones have GPS transmitters in them and with the right equipment, you can be found just by honing in on that GPS in your cell phone. The GPS does not work when the batteries are taken out; therefore we always remove the cell phone batteries before we come to The Manor. I’m sure there wasn’t enough time to trace you.”
Mr. Thompson picked up the hairbrush her father had given her and said, “Have you been instructed on how to use this?”
“Of course,” said Sara as she grabbed the brush from Mr. Thompson and brushed her hair. Mr. Thompson’s eyes widened, a bead of sweat appearing on his brow, as he carefully removed it from her hands. Bradford took a step back.
“I will just hang onto this for the time being, just for your own safety, mind you.” As he placed the brush in a desk drawer, wiping perspiration of from his forehead with a handkerchief handed to him by the tall man.
Mr. Thompson picked up the copy of Huckleberry Finn, leafed through the pages, and began to mumble on about how he had known Mr. Twain personally and had spent time with him in San Francisco. The old man set the book down and smiled at her. “Yes Sara I know the book was written in 1884, but that is a story for pleasanter times.”
“Bradford, please take Sara to her room to rest before dinner. I suggest a change in clothes would be appropriate; I don’t understand how your parents could allow you to have a shirt with a rodent on it,” he said as he looked at her Minnie Mouse t-shirt. “Dinner is precisely at 6:46; arrive on time please.”

September 5, 2010

2010-09-05T00:09:00.003-05:00

Poem for the week. (this was written for my 3rd wife. They say 3 times is a charm, they are right.)

Fate

I don’t regret one long dark road that fate has led me through.
No matter how dark and lonely the road has been,
fate led me to find someone like you.
I wouldn’t change one of the million tears I’ve cried,
or one lonely night alone.
For they have taught me patience and how to know
you and I are right.
Every broken heart or misplaced dream led
me to where you are.
I knew from the beginning it was you I saw
when I wished upon a star.
There is no doubt in my mind or my soul that I’ve been
searching for you all of my life.
Today we begin our happily ever after together,
I as your Husband and you as my Wife.

kidnaspped Chapter Four

2010-09-04T00:09:00.003-05:00

Chapter One is posted on August 25th
The Last Chance, my historical fiction, about a 115 year old man as he talks about his life prior to the 2008 election is posted on July 5th.

I was wondering if any of you would like to see four chapters a week of Tenebrae, instead of two? Leave a comment if you would like that.

Chapter Four- Toads on the Road

Sara was horrified. The other students had seen her enter the bus with Bride of Frankenstein hair; she seldom left home without her hair brushed. She just didn’t have the time to brush it this morning, what with the fear of monsters attacking her at any moment. The toad and rats following her didn’t help matters. Hopefully, no one noticed. Perhaps they were too busy watching the toad following the bus.
Finally, at the fourth stop on the way to school, the toad passed up the bus, waived to her, and sped on its way, but only after reading the sign on the side of the bus- WASHINGTON IRVING MIDDLE SCHOOL. The rats were no longer in the back seat. That worried Sara to no ends. Where did he drop off the rats? She had not seen him stop along the way.
The bus chugged into the school parking lot. She inspected the area for a toad in an ugly green suit, or the rats in purple leisure suits. She felt they were here but she couldn’t find him. Everyone had already left the bus and the driver was closing the doors when he saw Sara.
“Hey kid, it’s time to leave. Pick up your stuff and get out. I’m on a time schedule here,” he said as he pointed to his watch. Sara trudged down the aisle of the bus, looking out of all the windows while the bus driver glared at her and tapped his feet on the floor. As she was scrambling down the steps, she saw Tiffani sitting on the bench. She ran over and sat with her.
The toad forgotten, she started to tell Tiffani about her adventures from the night before, exaggerating the pat where she rescued her cell phone. Tiffani gave no excuse why her phone went straight to voicemail.
Tiffani said she believed her. “Sara,” she said, “I think we really need to talk. There is something you need to know.”
“Ok,” she said as the bell rang. “We’ll talk in English, okay? That’s the late bell, I’m late again. My mom will be so mad if I get demerits for being late.” Sara ran off to class. Tiffani walked to the other side of the campus, glancing about for any wayward toads.
#
From the shadows, a pair of large toad eyes had seen all that had happened, but was not close enough to hear what the girls were talking about. The toad was jotting down notes in a small green notebook which he slipped into his breast pocket. It was now time for him to make his move. He lurched forward out of the shadows to grab his prey as she passed. At that moment a large man in a suit walked up to the girl and was escorting his victim to class. The toad had missed his chance to meet his objective, again.
As Mr. Dalton dropped Sara off at her first period math class he said, “Sara, this is your third tardy. You really need to work harder at getting into school on time. If you promise to do better, we won’t add this tardy on the books, okay?”
“Sure, I promise Mr. Dalton,” she said deciding he would never believe the story of the computer calamities or the toad. Mr. Trotier was talking about square roots, but Sara was having a difficult time concentrating today. Her thoughts were limited on her mother, and what Tiffani needed to tell her.
School had always been an effort for her because her family moved so often. She was always catching up. But today, the events of the last several hours and a poor night’s sleep were making concentration on the subject impossible. Her mind was wandering from computer calamities to migraines to toads as she watched the minute hand on the clock move ever so slowly to the end of class. Mr. Trotier walked up to her and stood over her. She felt his eyes on the back of her head.
“Well, Sara. I asked you a question. What is the square root of 81?”
Sara had no idea. Of course she knew what a square root was, but her ordeal from the night before had fried her brain. She glanced at the clock; the minute hand had reached the 12. She exclaimed, “It’s nine.”
“Excellent,” said Mr. Trotier, “I really didn’t think you were paying attention.” The bell rang and she sprinted to her next class, US History.
History class was a repeat of math class. Her thoughts centered on the events of the past few hours and none on her classes. The only thing she learned all day was that the British were coming to the party, the party she was supposed to learn about on-line last night. She thought, “Now, why would we care if the British came to the tea party?”
Sara was excited about English class; she would get a chance to talk to Tiffani. She raced to class.
“Well Sara, you must be anxious for a lesson in the history surrounding William Shakespeare’s play, Julius Caesar,” said Ms. Graham.
“Uh, sure,” replied Sara, watching down the corridor for Tiffani. The bell rang, Tiffani never came, and she slumped down in her seat. Sara glanced at the door, as if doing so would magically bring her friend into the room. Tiffani did not enter the room, no matter how long she stared at the door.
Now she had even more to worry about; toads, instant messages, calamities, migraines, and missing BFF’s. She did hear some of the lesson but none of it made sense. She heard Ms. Graham say “The eyes of March.” She was also talking about Marc Antony. Sara read all of the tabloid front pages when she and her mom were shopping for groceries. Everyone knows Marc Antony is married to Jennifer Lopez. This has nothing to do with the Julius Caesar.
“Sara Roberts,” Ms. Graham put her hand on Sara’s shoulder, “We haven’t heard from you all day. Can you tell me anything you have learned in class today?”
She thought for an instant. Could this be a trick question? Every eye in the class was looking at her. “Uh- yes- Ma’am. Mark Antony is married to Jennifer Lopez and March has eyes.”
The entire class broke out in laughter. Sara was the high point of this boring class. She shrank down into her seat, trying to hide herself with her arms. She wished she were anyplace else. She wished her mother didn’t have a migraine. She wished Tiffani had come to class.
The bell rang. “Before you leave, class, you must study for the test on the play Julius Caesar for tomorrow. We are reading Huckleberry Finn next and I want three chapters read by Monday. If you do not intend to read all weekend, I would suggest you get started on that. Sara, did you get a chance to start reading the book last night?”
“No, Ms. Graham.” Sara thought maybe she should explain to Ms. Graham all the events of the evening before but decided, unlike Tiffani, Ms. Graham would not believe her.
“Class Dismissed.” Ms. Graham said, “Sara we need to talk at your earliest convenience. Maybe I can see you before school tomorrow?”
“Ummm, sure Ms Graham,” Sara said absentmindedly.
At lunch, Sara waited at her and Tiffani’s table. Tiffani never came. Sara ate her Oreo cookies alone, worrying about her BFF.
Finding a secluded part of the school next to the library, she opened her phone and called Tiffani. Again, there was no answer. The phone didn’t even ring. Sara looked at her cell phone in disbelief. What was happening to her?
Sara plodded through the rest of her day. She seriously considered leaving class early and walking home. She knew that would not only be breaking a strict home rule but, it would also be breaking a strict school rule. It would go on her permanent record. Not that she knew what a permanent record was, but it was probably the reason the commercials on TV talked about people with bad credit. All of them probably left school early and it got on their permanent record.
The end of the day finally came and she rode home on the bus, hoping she would find her mother in the kitchen making onion, bologna, and macadamia nut cookies. The bus pulled up to her house. She stepped off and marched up to the house, ready to force the calamities from her home. As she approached the front door, her pulse quickened and her steps slowed. Looking down the street for any signs of toads or rats and finding none, she marched up to the front door, slammed it open with a major attitude, and shouted, “I’m gonna kick some major monster booty- you just better get out of my way!”
There were no monster booty’s to kick. The house was in perfect condition and as she left it except one thing. Her mother’s door was standing open. She ran into the room, but it was empty. The bed was made.
She hurried into the kitchen, but it too was empty. There was a note lying on her mother’s kitchen table. “Sara, I have left to help your Aunt Abigail. She had an accident and had nowhere else to turn. Love, Mom.”
Her mother had a big heart and always helped when helping hands were needed. However, Sara had never heard of an Aunt Abigail. As far as she knew, she didn’t have any aunts, uncles, or grandparents. She had just stepped back into the living room when she noticed the note under the door, written in very impressive calligraphy.
MISS SARA ROBERTS
The Distinguished Mr. Thomas T. Thompson requests the presence of your company today at precisely 4:43 PM. Be Prompt, I have taken the liberty of sending transportation. This is of utmost importance.

Sincerely,
Thomas T. Thompson, ESQ.
A white stretch limo pulled up in front of her house. She was relieved to see that the chauffeur was not a toad.

Kidnapped Chapter Three

2010-09-01T12:24:00.004-05:00

Chapter One is posted on August 25th
The Last Chance Chapter One is posted on July 5th

Chapter Three- Things that go Bump in the Day

BUZZ! BUZZ!
The alarm sounded at 6:00 AM. Sara reached over and after several attempts, managed to press the snooze button. It had been a night of turmoil. She had tossed and turned all night long and with every toss and every turn, a new nightmare would invade her dreams.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
When her alarm sounded the second time, she knew she could no longer avoid the inevitable. It was time to get up.
She tried turning over but couldn’t move. Was she paralyzed? Or was something holding her down? She tried raising her arms. Could the evil calamities have invaded the sanctity of her room overnight and attacked her? Glancing in her mirror, she saw apparitions hovering over her holding down her arms and legs. Her worst fears had come true. Shaking and sweating from fear, Sara looked for her new hairbrush/weapon. It was not in its normal spot on the bedside table. She had no weapon against these horrendous calamitous ghosts. It was hard to breathe. They were suffocating her. “I want my daddy,” she said as the apparitions closed in on her.
BUZZ! BUZZ!
She opened her eyes; the alarm was ringing. Reaching over to turn it off, it occurred to her that she was moving. Looking into the mirror, there were no ghosts. It was another bad dream, but it was so realistic.
She had a busy morning ahead of her. Not only would she have to get ready for school and make her own breakfast, but she would have to wrestle computer calamities first. She had only 45 minutes to get to the school bus.
Opening her closet door, she saw all of her clothes in order as she had carefully arranged them, jeans on the left. T-shirts were on the right in the order she would wear them. She picked up the next shirt- her pink Minnie Mouse shirt, her favorite shirt. She could never have a bad day when she wore her favorite shirt.
Her hair was a mess. Her perfect pony tail now looked like she had used her hair to mop the kitchen floor. She glanced over to the bedside table, the place where she always kept her hairbrush last. It was not there. She remembered she had forgotten to retrieve it during her harrowing rescue; she had set it down next to the backpack when she rescued her cell phone, and had not picked it up again.
She had developed a very strict routine every morning and hated varying from the routine even the slightest. She sat on the edge of her bed, wanting to brush her hair, open the door, smell her mother’s cooking, run down the hall, give her mom a hug, eat her breakfast, grab her backpack and lunch, and run to the bus stop. Today was not a normal day.
Wishing for her mother’s special spinach pancakes, she ate a few crumbled Doritos, some Oreo cookies, and the remaining last drops of the warm Mountain Dew. Next, she needed to retrieve her backpack and hairbrush.
She tip-toed to the door, opened it slightly and glanced at her mother’s door. It was still closed. There were no signs of monsters from the hallway to the kitchen entry. She closed the door again. Wishing for a spurt of courage, it was now or never.
Taking a deep breath she grabbed her cell phone and the IPOD and shoved them in her pockets. Placing the Oreos on her bed, rethinking she placed the Oreos in her pocket also. She opened the door, scampered down the hall, looking over her shoulder expecting to be assaulted as she ran, darted into the kitchen, scooped up the hair brush, threw the backpack over her shoulder, scurried through the kitchen door, and ran for the bus, arriving just before the driver closed the doors. As she entered the bus doors, she glanced at the oldest, creepiest car she had ever seen parked in front of her house. A large toad was sitting in the driver’s seat staring at her, grinning ear to ear. The back seat was full of rats dressed in purple and red leisure suits. She gulped.
Normally, the sight of a large toad in a hideous green suit sitting in a car in front of her house would appear odd to Sara but, after the events of the previous day, it was not so shocking.
She sat at the back of the bus and watched as the toad pulled away from the curb and followed the bus.

August 29, 2010

2010-08-29T10:16:00.001-05:00

Poem for the week

BURNING BRIDGES

All the burning bridges are just
a memory of empty kisses and
a love not meant to be.
Night time falls around me and
I find myself alone,
Never ending sadness, a smile
without a home.
Bridges burned behind me with
no path up ahead.
All the time you talked, there was
nothing really said.
Yesterday’s misfortunes I should
have never seen.
I'll start sweeping up the ashes
in the morning.
All the burning bridges should be
standing still.
It was fine when you left, but you
didn't need to kill.

Kidnapped Two

2010-08-28T16:39:00.003-05:00

Chapter One was posted on August 25. As always Chapter One of The Last Chance is posted on July 5th. you don't want to miss it.

Chapter Two- Cell Phones, Backpacks and Goblins

Trembling, her back against the door, she scanned the room for some kind of weapon, there was none. Sitting with her knees up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. She was perplexed, and alone. She began to consider her situation; “Now that my mother has another migraine, I guess that means we’ll be moving again.”
Sara’s family moved often and lately, every couple of months and always after her mother had a migraine. They had been here since Christmas, merely six weeks ago. With the possibility of a new migraine Sara knew the move was un-escapable.
“I will miss Tiffani” her newest in a long line of best friends. On her first day at her new school she walked up and said, ‘Hi, my name is Tiffani. Welcome to Washington Irving Middle School. What are your classes? Maybe we have some together?’ A friend like that is a once in a lifetime find.”
“I can’t leave without telling her,” she said. “I need to call her and try to explain why I’m leaving. I also need to stop talking to myself.” Truthfully she had no idea why they had to move every time her mother got one of her famous migraine headaches. She had to call Tiffani right now
She searched the room looking for her cell phone. It was not on the table or the dresser and it was not in her pocket or under the bed. Tearing the covers from the bed, all she found was a dry; lint covered gummy bear hiding under the pillow. “EW!” she said as she covered it back up with the pillow.
In her mind she retraced her steps since coming home from school. Where could her call phone be? She always removed her cell phone after her mother told her to pick up her backpack. Sara slumped on the bed. “Mom never told me to pick up the back pack. It is still in the middle of the kitchen floor and the cell phone is still in it- sitting in the middle of the pitch dark kitchen and surrounded by creepy computer calamities.” Sara had developed a severe case of calamity-aphobia.
She felt safe in her room. It was warm, it was light, and it was her space. Her mom was safe behind her closed door. No one was safe in the rest of the calamity infested house. She needed to figure out a way to get to the kitchen and retrieve her backpack without being attacked. She imagined the instant message escaping from her computer, morphing into a multitude of hairy monsters, and searching for her. It took little imagination to figure out what would happen if it found out she was there.
Thinking maybe a trip to the kitchen would not be a wise undertaking and convincing herself she did not need to call Tiffani right away anyway, she decided to start on her homework she had conveniently ignored. Her assignment about some lame tea party in Boston eons ago was due in a couple of days. She had put off the assignment for the last few days. Unfortunately, her history book was in her backpack. “Who cares about some silly tea party in Boston? Pardon me Sir, do you have any tea and crumpets?” she said in her most proper English accent, giggling.
“I can to start reading that Huckleberry something book for English, but it is also in my backpack.”
“If I have to sit around, I could listen to music. Now, where is my IPOD?” she asked herself as she glanced around the room, “Where else? In my backpack!”
She had no other choice. Rescuing her backpack was an absolute necessity. Inching herself cautiously towards the bedroom door, she listened- nothing but silence. Breathing deeply and opening the door warily, she peered down the hall. Nothing was visible except her mother’s closed door illuminated by a fraction of light escaping her own open door. She closed the door again and ran and jumped back on her bed.
“The calamities could be hiding anywhere,” she said. She looked around the room for anything to bolster her resolve to rescue her backpack. Just like her lack of any useable weapon, there was no magical courage forming potion.
Rubbing her face with her hands, she paused and stared at the palm of her right hand.
It was back. In the center of her right palm appeared a tiny black star. She had first noticed one on her birthday. She had tried washing and scrubbing with every different type of soap she could find but it wouldn’t go away. She had shown it to her mom.
Her mom was unconcerned and told her to wash her hands for dinner.
She didn’t go wash her hands. Instead, she found a magnifying glass and investigated the small dot in the middle of her hand. It wasn’t a dot at all. It was a small black star. The next day it was gone. Last week it had come back and it had been white. Now the black star was back again. The star was not her current problem and staring at it would not give her any courage.
“Didn’t I hear somewhere about certain foods giving people super-human courage? I’m sure it was either on the Food Network, the Discovery Channel, or I made it up, but I’m sure it’s true.”
Searching the room again she beheld a can of lukewarm Mountain Dew, a bag of crumpled Doritos laying on the floor and lifting her pillow once again, the disgusting gummy bear. Looking at the Doritos, then the gummy bear, and then back to the Doritos she said, “It will have to be Doritos because I am not touching that gummy bear!”
She guzzled the soda and ripped open the Doritos bag, spilling chips and crumbs all over her bed. “I have to clean that up before my mom sees it,” she said as she stuffed her face with Doritos.
Satisfied, she crept towards the door, waiting for the super-human courage to explode inside her.
Whether it was the added caffeine, a full tummy, or simply the resolution in her mind that she had to do this, Sara was more courageous.
She grabbed the first item she saw, the hairbrush her father had given her for her birthday. It wasn’t much of a weapon but it was better than nothing. Her father had said it was special, hopefully he was right. Pointing the hairbrush like a sword, she sneaked up to the door, ducked down low, opened the door, and entered the hallway, closing the door behind her. Creeping along the floor in the dark, frightening hallway she hoped this would confuse the calamities into thinking she was just the family pet. With her head down and her hairbrush at the ready, she crawled slowly towards the kitchen.
The calamities did not disturb her; she knew they were out there, but they had not noticed her. They could be lying in wait, lulling her into feeling safe and then as she returned to her room they would attack. She peered into the darkness of the kitchen sure she saw the outline of something large in the corner. She rummaged through the backpack, grabbing the cell phone and the IPOD and decided Huckleberry would have to fend for itself. There were not enough Doritos in the world to make her that brave. Remembering where she had dropped the Oreos, she grabbed them as she crawled next to the computer. A faint glow flowed from the monitor. The light on the power cord was off. “Impossible,” she whispered, “everything is turned off.” As she briskly crawled down the hall she could feel the breath of the calamities as they followed her.
Ping.
Sara jumped up and ran for her room slamming the door behind her and sinking to the floor with her back against the door. After calming herself, she shouted, “I did it! I rescued my cell phone and my IPOD and my Oreos from the calamities.” Speaking as if she were an announcer she said, “Introducing the latest Super-hero Spy, Sara the valiant.” She bowed to the imaginary audience. As the imaginary applause died down, she called Tiffani on her cell phone. The call went straight to voice mail. It didn’t even ring.
She jumped into bed, listened to her IPOD, and munched on a few Oreos. Eventually, she dropped the Oreos on the floor, turned over, and fell asleep. Awakened in the middle of the night to the sound of crashing, she sat up in bed; but it was only a thunderstorm. She listened to the sound of the rain on the window and thought she heard the croaking of a frog, or was it a toad? In a matter of seconds she was fast asleep hoping the monsters did not function well in the morning.

Kidnapped..Chapter One

2010-08-25T14:17:00.003-05:00

As promised Chapter One of Kidnapped. I am going to try and post one chapter a week until I get half way through, or a book deal.

As always please remember to go to July 5th to read the first chapter of The Last Chance.

As for the serial, I have not decided if I am going to continue. You will be the second to know.

I will continue to post poems on Sunday fro the time being. I appreciate any comments.

Chapter One- Instant Message from a Toad
Goose bumps danced on her skin; there was a cold sensation deep in the pit of her stomach. Her body convulsed as a shiver ran uncontrollably down her spine. She held back a gagging reflex as the smell of damp earth combined with the harsh, sour smell of rotten eggs affronted her nostrils. If evil had a smell this was surely it; Sara was terrified.
The ropes binding her hands and feet dug into her skin as she squirmed and s wiggled trying in vain to free herself. Sara vaguely aware of the tiny pricks and throbbing tingles radiating from the side of her neck. Something or someone had bitten her. The lingering effect of the poisonous bite prevented her from remembering who or what. The last thing she remembered was the gate surrounding Hemit’s Cave. Something had gone terribly wrong.
She had a difficult time adjusting her sight to the dim light that permeated all around her. Her eyesight would have been hindered worse if it hadn’t been for tiny shafts of sunlight filtering through small holes in the fabric of a large, dingy tent.
“Bring me the prisoner!” boomed a raspy, unnatural voice from outside the tent.
Sara listened to the eerie clump-clump of heavy footsteps approach the tent. She closed her eyes again and lay very still, hoping the creature would believe she was asleep.
She heard the zipper of tent flap open and the sound of footsteps grow louder until they stopped close enough for her nose to be assaulted by warm, foul-smelling breath. She trembled, a slimy hand tapping her shoulder and forcing her to breathe evenly- not squirm, not shake, and not scream. The footsteps retreated. She ventured to open her eyes a sliver, just in time to see a large toad exiting the tent, leaving the flap open.
A high voiced squeal reported “She’s still unconscious, Sir.”
“I’ll be in my tent. Contact me the moment she awakes!” Sara could barely see the commanding toad as he croaked his order but recognition struck her; she had first seen him several days earlier as he followed her bus to her school. Her stomach churned as she watched his eyes and his neck bulge and throb, gagging as his tongue burst out of his mouth and snatched a defenseless dragonfly as it buzzed by.
She wondered, “How did I get myself in this predicament?” Her memories flooded back as the poison began to wear off.
It was that instant message. It all started with a simple instant message only five days ago....

#

Sara threw open the door. “Mom, I’m home, no homework, when’s dinner, gonna check my email,” she barked in rapid succession. With perfected precision she dropped her backpack in the middle of the kitchen floor, scanned the area for snacks, plopped herself into the chair, and with one swift motion flipped on the computer and the internet.
Munching on a few Peanut M & M’s and guzzling a Mountain Dew which she had mysteriously seized on her way from the kitchen to the computer desk, she opened her email looking for a message from her father. He was away on business again and he had promised this time to send an email every day, but she had received none. There were no emails and no friends on-line. Sara would have settled for some junk mail, however, it could never happen because her mother was the queen of home security. The door was never left unlocked. Computers and the internet were locked down so tight an ant couldn’t invade her mother’s security.
She stared mindlessly at her monitor.
Ping. An instant message appeared.
She smiled. She opened the message. It said, “Are you there, Sara?” She frowned at the unrecognized screen name. The impossible had happened. Someone had broken through her mother’s impenetrable security and the intruder knew her name. She closed the message and reminded herself to let her mom know about this breach of security. Contemplating ways to alleviate her boredom, she thought about doing the impossible, her homework. Sara’s mother did not allow her to play any of the good games available on the internet. Her friends were allowed to play exciting fun, challenging games, the kind of games where fighting or shooting virtual guns, but not Sara. It had taken a multitude of well-placed tears to get any games at all. No amount of pleading could convince her mother to block access to the educational web sites.
Ping.
“Are you there, Sara?”
“Mom did you change my security?” Silence answered. Sara hadn’t heard from her mom all afternoon. Mom hadn’t yelled at her to pick up her backpack or ask for proof of no homework. Worst of all, there were no interesting smells coming from the kitchen. Sara clicked “ignore” on the internet message, “Hey Dude! You try to come back after that! You are history!” she said as she stood up and looked around the gloomy room.
“Mom must be here somewhere.” She said to herself peeking in the kitchen to see if her mom was making one of her experimental surprise dinners, her stomach rumbled telling her some chicken gizzards a la mode would be perfect right now. Only her lonely backpack sat in the middle of the floor. She stepped down the hall and started looking in all the rooms. Finally, she stood in front of her mother’s closed bedroom door.
Her mom often suffered from migraine headaches and would shut herself in her room for hours with the door closed. Sara was not allowed to disturb her mother when the door was closed.
“Mom must have fallen asleep from one of her migraines and is unable to wake up to make dinner or give me a hug. I’m sure it would be okay to disturb her this one time. The rule doesn’t apply if you are starving.” Sara said outloud and lifted her arm to knock on the door, paused and then dropped her hand to her sides. She walked away from the door, her stomach growling. “I’ll have to make dinner myself. It can’t be that hard,” she said talking outloud again as she walked into the shadowy kitchen. She grabbed another can of Mountain Dew from the refrigerator, arranged by types of food, from shortest to tallest. From the pantry she grabbed a bag of Doritos conveniently placed next to the donuts. Then she snatched the bag of Oreos located right next to the oregano in her mother’s alphabetically organized kitchen. As she assured herself of the nutritional merits of this three course dinner, she noticed just how dark it was getting and sped out of the kitchen.
Ping. She stopped.
Sara stared at the computer screen. There was the instant message again. “Are you there Sara?” The message had come back even after she had clicked “ignore.” Sara flipped off the computer, the internet, and the monitor and ran into her room, slamming the door behind her and turning on her light. She leaned her back against the door, breathing heavily and crushing the bag of Doritos against her chest. “Mom’s gonna get me now, I’m in big trouble. I forgot to turn off the internet and now all sorts of calamities are going to happen!”
Hadn’t her mother warned her repeatedly, “Leaving the internet running leaves us susceptible to all manner of viruses and unknown calamities?” Sara was scared, and to make matters worse she had started talking to herself. What else could go wrong?

August 22, 2010

2010-08-22T20:58:00.002-05:00

I will start posting a few chapters of Tenebrae (edited) next week. Remember chapters of The Last Chance begin on July 5th

Poem for the week

Flicker

When your dreams are at their darkest, and trust is hard to find.
There should always be a bright light.
That flickers in your mind.
When you just can’t find a reason
Or doubt your pain will end.
When you stumble in your attempt to find someone in which you can depend.
When you need a shelter to keep you safe from your fright,
or just need someone to keep your heart warm on a cold night.
And when you chase your rainbows and get soaked with every thought.
When you find that you are wondering, where is the happiness
you thought that you had bought?
Never forget my heart can be your light.
My love is something in which you can depend.
My friendship will keep you safe and secure.
And my tenderness will dry your tears and ease your fears.

August 15, 2010

2010-08-16T00:33:00.002-05:00

It kinda looks as if my serial didn't go over big. I guess i should not continue. The response to the last chapters of The Last Chance is slowing down. The only thing constant is the depression. Let me know if I should continue with my serial. I just need one response.

Here is the poem for the week. I don't know if any of you noticed but I have a pattern going here. One positive poem and then one "gosh my heart broke poem". It is time for the later.

CAN'T BLAME IT ON ME

You can't blame it on me for the
way that you're feeling.
I'm not the one to blame for
the lonely way
it turned out to be.
You're the one who asked to be free.
So why blame it on me.
You can't say it's my fault for all
of your crying.
I'm not the one who asked you
to walk out on me.
It was your choice and yours completely.
So, why blame it on me?

August 9, 2010

2010-08-09T13:23:00.001-05:00

Poem for the week

Love

You remind me of springtime, because you’re making me smile.
I know I could love you in just a short while.
Are you the dream that keeps replaying in my mind?
Are you the true love I've been searching to find?
If I told you I loved you would they be words you'd like to hear?
Will I be the one you’ll miss whenever I'm not near?
Can I give you my heart to cherish and hold?
Will you seek my warmth whenever you're cold?
Can I hold you at night to calm all of your fears?
Will you let me be the one that dries all your tears?
When I look into your eyes will you feel the same?
When I touch secret places will you whisper my name?
Will you give me your heart and let your love show?
When you tell me you love me will I already know?
Can I open my hands and let you fly away free?
Secure in the knowledge you'll fly home to me

August 1, 2010

2010-08-01T15:22:00.001-05:00

Poem for the week

I ALWAYS TURN TO YOU

When it seems as though nobody in this world is sane,
I always turn to you.
Because you're the rainbow, you're always there after the rain.

When all I feel is darkness and don't know why I came,
I always turn to you.
Because you smile just like the sunrise, and heal all my pain.

When I look into my memories to only find a stain,
I'd write my failures in a book but couldn't stand the fame.
So I always turn to you.
You're the rainbow; you're always there after the rain.

Episode One-------Acciddental Hero, at Large

2010-07-28T17:03:00.002-05:00

remember to go to July 5th to read first chapter of The Last Chance............

Episode one
It has been said that any story should begin at the beginning; I tend to agree with this assumption. However if we were to dissect our life, and look deep into our past we would find we have been blessed or cursed with multiple beginnings. Our birth, first day of school, first kiss, well you get where I am going with this. Our hero also has had many beginnings, most of them totally forgettable. I have decided to start this story at the appropriate beginning. Please bear with me, as this is my first attempt at story telling. Let me know if I get ahead of myself.
The beginning…… oh I will let you know if something from our hero’s past affects the outcome of this story. Maybe I can insert a, the following happened way before, but might be of interest. I really don’t know, as I said I am kinda new at this.

In the annuls of time there have been many heroes, but this story, like most stories focus on just one super hero. Our hero is unassuming, shy, bit of a nerd, mild mannered, clumsy and out of work. To look at him you would never guess he had super powers. You might even suppose he had no powers at all. However, you would be mistaken. OK I wouldn’t blame you for being skeptical. After all how many heroes do you know that are just over five feet tall, balding, and wear coke bottle glasses? I myself can’t think of one.
Without further adieu, allow me to introduce you to our hero. His secret identity name is raballard. That’s right the one and only raballard. You think I jest? Believe me I wish I was mistaken. I myself just found out.
Our hero, blessed with a quick wit and an uncanny imagination. Both are essential elements is surviving as a super hero, though I will admit possession of wit and imagination are not exclusive to super heroes.
What, you may ask makes raballard a super hero? Besides spunk and a never wavering sense of right and wrong, and of course, occasional sense of determination. Raballard has two devices placed in strategic places in his body. Mainly a magical, mystical pace maker and a device in his nether region, which has yet to reveal its purpose. I hear the naysayers among you, a magical pacemaker indeed. To be frank, I too had my doubts. Mostly because the devices have been more of a nuisance then anything magical. That was before today, everything changed late in the afternoon, when the magical pacemaker transported our mild mannered raballard to the scene of the crime.
Our story does not begin with once upon a time, although that would be cute, quaint, and cuddly. Our story just begins. Dateline 3:17 PM normal daylight savings time March the 26th, 2009 Raballard sat in his tiny cubical contemplating the project de jour. This project was similar to all other projects that had passed through his tiny cubical during the last forty years. He had no way of knowing that this job was different. Had his senses been developed, the way most super heroes develop their senses he would have know. This benign, no different than any other project had been imprinted with the smell of the latest catastrophe sweeping through his nation. The project, hereto with known as project 2941 had the feint smell of evil attached to it. Not just the smell of evil, but the pure acidic smell of economic evil. How was poor Raballard to know his neat everything in its place world would be torn asunder? A squeak came from his company phone; he seldom got any kind of communiqué from his phone. Most days his company phone lay dormant. He had considered removing the phone altogether, but as it belonged to the company he thought better of it, and used the phone as a paper weight. Engrossed with project 2941 Raballard paid no heed to the urgent squeak from his paper weight. The second time the squeak startled him; he knew he could not avoid the request coming from the phone. “Raballard please report to Supervisor Largemouth’s office at once. Do not delay, drop everything and come at once” the phone went silent.
Reporting to Supervisor Largemouth’s office was not in itself an uncommon request; he had been called to his supervisor’s office many times over the last forty years. He had lost track of the various number of supervisors he had reported to. This time the request seemed eerie. Raballard’ s intuition clicked into high gear. This was not a request to appear, no, it was more like an order. Raballard knocked on the office door, and waited for a response. The response was instantaneous; “enter” came booming from behind the closed door. The office never ceased to amaze him; it was six times larger than his cubical. Every supervisor had modified or enlarged their office, many times at expense of expandable employees. The current supervisor’s office was no exception. It was grandiose, with three solid oak desks, crystal chandeliers, three overstuffed chairs stood behind each desk. Priceless pieces of art adorned each wall. It was no doubt the current supervisor lived beyond his needs. To Raballard’s surprise Supervisor Largemouth sat behind the largest desk, a desk he seldom used. The desk has been called the judgment desk, and for good reasons. Supervisor Largemouth twiddled his thumbs as he sat, listening to ACDC blaring in the background. “Awe excellent, I am so glad you could free yourself from your desk,” he remarked as he pointed to a small steel back chair for his victim to sit in. “tell me Ra, how have you been the last few months? Is all that nasty cancer been removed?” a chill ran up and down Raballard’s spine. He had not been called here to chit-chat about his cancer. He knew something more chilling was in the air, he could not place a finger on it, but he knew. He was about to answer, when he was cut off by his supervisor. “Never mind, you know I really could care less about your so-called cancer.”
“But sir, I have the receipts from my doctor and hospital.”
Supervisor Largemouth continued unabated, “Yes, yes. Receipts, anybody can produce receipts. The crux of the matter is your time off has cost this company a lot of money. Money is tight. In today’s sagging economy, well we just can’t have this, can we?”
“No sir, I guess we can’t have that”
“Good, so you agree” Supervisor Largemouth said with a glee and a half turned snarl on his lips. “Therefore, I have no recourse than to let you go. Blame the economy if you wish. You have two minutes to vacate the premises, after which you will be arrested as a trespasser” he gave Raballard an evil grin “Good day, and thank you for slaving away at The Steel Plant, for the last..However many years you’ve been here.”
“But sir..”
“Your time has begun. There is to be no severance pay, no letter of recommendation, as you know these things take time and money. Blame the economy, blame the powers that be, but I am blameless. You have one minute and forty-five seconds left. Please don’t make me call security, as you know that will take time and money”
Raballard stood up, looking at his former supervisor, pleading for his position to be returned to him.
“But sir…”
“I can see we are going to go about this the hard way, very well I will have security escort you off the premises. Of course we will need to bill you for doing so”
“No, I’m going” Raballard said as he turned to go.
“Blame it on the economy” kept running through is mind .The evil that has gripped his nation had its next victim. A victim, that up until the time he became a victim had no idea he was about to become a hero.
“I will not only blame it on the economy, but I will defeat this economy.” He said with determination. Raballard had never been one to crusade for a cause. His life had been one of wait and see. This time he had been pushed too far. He was now ready to battle for truth justice, and the return to normalcy. The mild mannered Raballard became the hero he was destined to become. A hero was born. He put his key in the ignition of his old beat up car and turned it on.T here are forces in herodom that cannot be explained. Why is it on one day your pacemaker is a nuisance while the next day it becomes magical? The pacemaker became just that when he turned on the ignition. The car vanished as soon as the key had been turned. The magical pacemaker had transported Raballard to the scene of the crime. To the beginning

Follow the adventure of Raballard, coming soon my blog near you.

July 25, 2010

2010-07-25T16:34:00.001-05:00

Poem for the week.

WINNING AND LOSING

Winning is for winners
Losing is for fools.
Cheating is for cheaters,
and tests you take in school.
Loving is for lovers,
Lord I've tried them all.
I called her name out last
night.
Didn't she hear me call?
Giving is for givers and
ladies of the night.
Trying is for triers and
two wrongs don't make a
right.
Dying is for dyers and
Lord I've tried them all.
I called her name out last
night.
Didn't she hear me call?
Lessons are for learning,
you taught me very well
Begging is for beggars and
you can go to Hell.

July 24, 2010

2010-07-24T21:57:00.004-05:00

The last two chapters (fifteen and sixteen) are the last chapters I am going to post, for now. If you want the rest please E-mail me a request, and I will send the rest.

I will keep posting a poem each Sunday. I have also started working on a blog serial about a mild mannered hero, who had no idea he was a hero.

I am also trying to gather funds to self publish, so if any of you have any suggestions on how an unemployed dreamer can accomplish such a feat would be helpful. I suppose the opperative word there is dreamer.

The response I have received from those reading the Last Chance is overwhelming. All have told me it should be available to the public. I agree, although I am just a bit biased.

Look for my new supper hero serial coming soon to this blog near you.

Ramon.

PS the Email address is located in my profile.