Dear God, Please Don't Let Me End Up Like My Parents

(Warning. This is a long friggin' post)

I bet just about everyone has uttered that prayer once or twenty times, my kids included. But let me tell you, I've got reasons.

I don't know what it is, but it seems like everyone I know who is in my age group (mid-to-late 30's) is going through some kind of parental crisis. And I don't mean a paltry health crisis either, oh no, that would be too easy. I'm talking divorce (my husband's parents), finances (my parents) and health (pretty much everyone).

I've generally stayed away from stuff that's too personal on my sci-fi blog, mostly to protect my kids. But after spending a year in cyber space and meeting some very cool people, I think I can vent in a general way from time to time. I just won't use names, you know, to protect the guilty.

And you gotta vent, right?

Alrighty, let me fill in some details for those of you who've managed to stay curious about all this.

My parents. Where do I start? Deep breath. Okay.

I was adopted as an infant and for the most part I'd say I have no issues with that. But there is a weird disconnect that comes from knowing you are not blood related to the family that raised you. I grew up thinking that maybe the love I felt for my family wasn't as strong as it would have been had I been related by blood. That's ridiculous of course, but still, you can't blame a kid for not understanding that.

It took having my own kids to realize that the love is the same and for that I will always be grateful I had kids. But at the same time seeing yourself reflected in the face of your children and their mannerisms drives home the undeniable truth that no matter how much you wish it wasn't so, you are different from the people who raised you. I don't mean values and that sort of thing. But the truth is there are things that come with genetic bonds. Your doctor knows this is true, that's why they ask you about your family history every time you have a health concern.

In my family, like many, the issues related to substance abuse and manic-depression. My parents were fairly stable, though my dad has a tendency toward alcoholism and gambling and my mom --hell, I don't even know the story there. Okay, maybe not so stable.

Anyway, the reason I mention all that stuff is to kind of give a background so you understand how they got where they are now. On the surface my parents look normal, successful even. But my mom wouldn't have it any other way. She has always compulsively tried to make sure the world would look at us and see the ideal family. Oh dear God, who did she think she was kidding? But it was this drive to appear normal that has allowed her to ignore what has been in front of her face for 40 years. Our family is nuts.

More history-- I have three brothers. One I haven't seen in 10 years due to a bad meth and alcohol addiction. How bad? He was diagnosed with cirrhosis of the liver and hepatitis C at 35 and told one good alcohol binge could kill him. Didn't slow him down. Last I heard he had somehow managed to get out of jail despite a weapons charge that included endangering a minor. He should never have been let out but he usually informs on his drug suppliers to get paroled and then leaves the state. Another brother moved to Missouri about 15 years ago and I seem him every 8 years or so. My third brother-whom I am closest with and love dearly, is manic depressive and moved to Thailand about 2 years ago. I get phone calls now and then.

Back to my parents. I've been nagging them for years to save money for retirement. My dad made a lot of money during his good earning years but they spent like crazy. They'd go on these month long vacations and stay in 5 star hotels. My dad once told me the tab on one vacation was $30k. So I bug my mom since my dad won't listen to me. I ask her what they have put aside for retirement and she tells me they're fine. I suggest that they cut their vacations in half and put away the money they'd save in a retirement account. She tells me, "oh it's your father who wants to take these vacations..." I'm thinking, what's that got to do with anything?

So I nag and they tell me I'm so tight I squeak. That's always been the family joke. Everyone in my family goes through money like water, but not me. For some reason I've always been very frugal, even as a kid. There's no reason for it, my parents never denied me anything. But for some reason I always had a different mentality about money-- one of the things I've kind of wondered if it could be inherited genetically, but probably not.

Once I got married and had kids I became too preoccupied to nag my parents too much about their health or their finances, but I did still try. My dad was a chain smoker for most of his life and I bugged him about that. He was always losing weight on the Atkins diet and then gaining it back-- and then some. My mom had fake boobs (that's a whoooole other counseling session) and they burst and made her really sick and she ended up with lupus and arthritis. My dad predictably ended up with diabetes and heart disease that culminated in a massive heart attack he barely survived.

Needless to say, their health is poor.

Oh but wait, there's more. Oh so much more.

The heart attack put my dad off his feet for almost a year. He'd had his own business for over 20 years but it was a one man shop and there was no one to take up the slack. I asked my mom about that, but everything was fine. But I knew that wasn't the case because my dad had taken a loan out against the house in a business gamble that was poorly thought out and didn't go well. I don't know how much he lost, but it wasn't pretty.

Fast forward two years or so. My brother comes home from Thailand to settle some business and he stays with my parents for a couple of months. He starts telling me they aren't doing well financially. I knew it was bad but I didn't know the extent of it. My brother tells me he loaned my dad $100k, and I'm thinking, wow it is bad. So I bring it up with my mom to try to find out how bad. She didn't know about the loan. Boy, my mom can wear blinders with the best of them.

Cut to the final tally-- $600k borrowed against the house and $200k+ on the credit cards. Holy crap! $800k+ in debt and my dad's business was losing money. My mom makes my dad shut down shop since it's losing money-- and here's the kicker-- my dad doesn't go back to work claiming his health is too poor. WTF? He's been getting up and going to work everyday up to that point but now that the debt is so bad he can't see daylight he quits working altogether? Oh wait, I get it, he thinks he can sell their house for enough money to cover the debt and then some. Except he forgot that the California housing market is going into the crapper.

I found about all this about a year and a half ago.

So my dad's brilliant idea is to sell the house to cover everything. And it might have worked had they sold the house a year and a half ago. But they decided to go to Thailand since my brother and his wife were expecting a baby. They stayed 6 weeks. They come home and tell me they've decided they're now going to sell the house and move to Thailand. Okaaaaaay. Actually, this is okay. They can live on social security and get pretty good health care much cheaper than here. And because my dad can't go to a McDonald's everyday and further abuse his health his blood sugar is the best it's ever been. I tell them I whole-heartedly support the plan.

So you'd think they were on the fast-track to sell the house right? Um, no.

My dad dinks around for several months supposedly getting the house ready, but really he's just moving stuff from one pile to the next. My mom doesn't nag him to move along because she doesn't really want to move to Thailand and she's hoping for a last minute miracle. It doesn't come. January, they finally get the house on the market, but price it about $100k too high. This in a falling market too. My husband and I talk to the realtor and get their appraisal on the house and try to talk sense into my dad. He blows us off. My mom stops talking to me because she doesn't want to hear me nagging anymore. My dad starts smoking again, and my mom won't do anything about that because she doesn't want to stress out my dad any further. Yeah, those cigarettes aren't stressing out his arteries at all.

At about this time my in-laws start in on their divorce crisis-- I will probably go into this later. It's just too good a story to pass up.

So the house sits for months and as far as I know, no offers. Then I find out they did get an offer but my dad rejected it because it was too low. My mom tells me the offer was for $700k, but I later find out it was $785k. But my mom's lies are nothing new (my dad is actually my step-dad, though he's the only dad I've ever known. She told me years ago he couldn't legally adopt me because her ex wouldn't sign off on the adoption. But during the purge of all their stuff she inadvertently gave me a copy of a letter dated 1977 giving my dad consent to adopt me. Nice huh? But I'm used to it. Sort of.)

Where was I? Oh yeah.

Eight months later my dad finally realizes the house is priced too high. He lowers it to $800k (it was at $950K in the beginning). Alright, we're making progress. He's also really regretting he didn't take that earlier offer.

Now they sit. They've sold off most of their stuff to keep the rent paid but they've finally run out of money and stopped paying the mortgage. They are praying they can sell before the house forecloses. My brother who lent them the $100k is now broke and calls me periodically for money. Sigh. We don't have a big enough house to have them move in with us and did I mention, we live in California? It's still crazy expensive here and we can't buy a big enough house for all of us.

And I am ashamed to admit, in moments of reflection, like this, that I'm glad I'm adopted. I don't have an addictive personality, manic depression, heart disease, diabetes and all the other stuff in the bloodline. Of course I don't know what I do have to contend with, but maybe that's a gift.

So we all sit on eggshells. I blog about my personal stuff because I don't have anyone to talk to about this. We moved almost every year growing up (I went to 11 different schools) so I don't have any childhood friends and frankly, I'm not good at making them as an adult. And really, is it fair of me to dump this on some poor unsuspecting soul?

Oh wait, I just did.

Marcia Marcia Marcia Indeed!

I'm back at it. But the celebrities just won't stop the insanity.

In case you missed it, Maureen McCormack-- Marica Brady for those of you who've lived under a rock for the last 30 years-- has decided to divulge some, er, interesting details about her relationship with her TV sister Jan.

My only question is why? Okay, I get it, the more salacious the details the more books she'll sell. But jeez, does she need to sell her dignity too?

Apparently so.

What Do I Look Like? A Mom?

My little dude (3 years old) woke up with a fever this morning. Actually, he woke up at about 1:30am and proceeded to whine the rest of the night. Ugh.

The thing is, I don't really know what to do when my kids are like this. Mostly, I'm just glad they're not throwing up.

My son, bless his heart, is going through a mommy stage too. If any of you have been through this before, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. If we go out in public, he must be carried by mommy. Mommy must be the one to hold his hand, etc. etc. So of course, since he is sick during his mommy phase, he only wants mommy to comfort him.

On one level, this is great. We all want our little monsters to love us right? But on the other hand it's also exhausting. I find myself saying don't you want daddy to hold you? a lot these days.

So, today my son has spent the whole day lying in my bed in a kind of lethargic stupor. My husband, myself and my daughter have taken turns keeping him company but he keeps kicking everyone out and demanding that I go back and lay with him. Sweet, but kind of boring after 4 hours of Power Rangers.

I really, really hope he feels better tomorrow.

Could This Get Any Weirder?

I had no intention of turning this page into a celebrity blog, but it seems I can't help myself. The foibles of people in the public eye offers a never ending flow of jaw dropping stupidity that must be remarked upon.

So now that that's been established, let's talk O.J.

I had actually thought about putting up a post last week about the release of O.J.'s book "If I did It," but it almost seemed too grotesque to even bring up. Then I watched the interviews of the Ron Goldman family on Oprah (with a separate interview of Nicole Brown's sister, Denise) and almost put up a post about that. And yet, for some reason I wasn't moved to post until now.

I'm sure if any of you read or watch the news you've heard all about O.J.'s most recent arrest. I mean, does it get any more surreal than this?

If you haven't heard about it, let me fill you in. O.J. claims that someone stole a bunch of property from him and was attempting to sell it illegally. The best part of this is that O.J. didn't go to the police but decided to get some guns, and some help and attempt to steal back the items at gunpoint.

That O.J. It doesn't seem possible that so much common sense exists in one person does it?

The thing that really sticks out here though is the fact that O.J. has really decided he's bulletproof. And why not? He got away with murder and everyone knows it. It's always been galling that O.J. has been so in-your-face with his acquittal. I don't think I've ever seen more arrogance in my life.

Of course, it's not enough that he got away with murder, he also had to write a book saying, oh, and here's how I did it. (As an aside, I didn't expect to have any sympathy for the Goldman family for releasing this book, but they made a surprisingly good case on the Oprah show. Even Oprah, who is convinced she's Jesus IMO, seemed more inclined to be sympathetic toward their position by the end of the show) And now, he figures, hey, I got away with all that, so I might as well do this.

The only thing that shocks me anymore is that the Goldman family hasn't hired someone to put O.J. out of our collective misery.

The good news is that O.J was arrested without bail and if (big if) he is convicted on these charges he could get 30 years on each count-- adding up to something like 250+ years.

Wouldn't that be something?

Who Doesn't Love a Good Celebrity Meltdown?

I don't know why I'm so fascinated by publicly broadcast train-wrecks, but I know I'm not alone.

Who hasn't been talking about Britney Spears lately? Obviously the bungee cord that held her brain together snapped a long time ago, but it's just sad to watch this thing going on and on.

Sometimes I hear people want to jump on the media/paparazzi for broadcasting this stuff, but I have a different take on that.

Years ago I worked for a TV show as an Associate Producer and got to know a little about how the business works. There was a Senior Producer I worked for who loathed....no...HATED George Clooney. With a passion. Why? Well, back in the day when Clooney was lucky to get a few lines on Roseanne, his dad, Nick, worked for as a TV reporter. My Senior Producer worked for a lot of tabloid shows back then, A Current Affair and Hard Copy among them. He told me that he worked with Nick Clooney on one of these shows, but I can't find anything to confirm that (intentional omission on Nick Clooney's bio I'm sure). Anyway, my boss said George used to come in and beg for publicity. He'd plead for them to do any little snippet on him so he could get some more on-air time to boost his career.

Fast forward 10 years or so. Clooney now has a prime time gig on ER and is starting to make it on the big screen. He's a big shot now. Princess Diana is killed in a tragic car accident and the paparazzi are implicated. Who is the first actor to attack the press? Clooney. How does he do it? By calling a press conference and denouncing all the tabloid shows, naming Hard Copy specifically. He's such a hot shot now he doesn't need the press anymore apparently. Not that that has stopped People magazine from repeatedly naming him the "Sexiest Man of the Year." I guess the tabloid press is okay if we like what they are saying.

I don't have any particular ax to grind with Clooney in particular. It's just that I've seen this time and again. Celebrities know what they are doing when they put themselves in front of the paparazzi. When Sharon Stone decided to make a public statement against gun ownership (not long after the Columbine massacre) and turned in her rifle (rifle?) to the local police department, you can bet good money that she called the press and made sure they were going to be there. In fact, I bet she bought the rifle just for the occasion.

So while it's sad to watch Britney continue to melt down, just realize that each time you see her without her underwear in public, not only has she likely planned the exposure, but there's a good chance she called ahead to make sure the press would be there to cover it. Somehow this poor child has convinced herself that attention from the press either equates a still viable career or, pathetically, someone still cares about her. Does that make her fair game for the press and pundits? Frankly, yes. Does that make it okay when people go after her kids? No.

Honestly, I wish Britney would learn to isolate herself from the press. I wish she'd find a secluded space, far far away and at least try to get well.

Why Hasn't the Hammer Fallen on This Kid Yet?

I don't know if anyone watches the reality TV show about Hulk Hogan called "Hogan Knows Best." My husband watches it but I find the family insufferable and stopped watching it almost immediately.

One of the reason I can't stand it is because Hulk, and his wife Linda, spoil the kids, Nick and Brook, beyond belief. They fabricated a music career for Brook despite any evidence of talent and then sponsored their (then) 16 year old son in a career as race car driver (drifting). Huh? Who the hell thinks it's a good idea to give a 16 year old a Dodge Viper and say here son, why don't you race down the track in this? Is it any surprise that the kid got four speeding tickets within one year of getting his drivers license-- at least two were over 100mph.

How was this kid's license not pulled?

So, predictably, a kid is in the hospital after Hogan's kid got into an accident almost 2 weeks ago. The passenger is still in the hospital now.

So WTF? Why hasn't anything been done yet?

Hulk Hogan is of course claiming his kid didn't do anything wrong. He says his son wasn't racing (despite numerous witness statements to the contrary) and that the media is being "unfair" in bringing up Nick's driving record. Way to go dad. Way to teach your son how to take accountability for his actions.

But it gets better. The mom of the passenger, still in critical condition, is defending the Hogan family. Now, I don't want to call her a sell out-- that wouldn't be fair, especially since her son is still clinging to life in the hospital. But it is public knowledge that the Hogans are paying the medical bills (as they should) and I can't help wonder if there has been talk of a monetary settlement between the two families. I'm betting they've already begun negotiating numbers.

What really pi$$es me off about this whole deal is how the Hogan family is treating the whole thing. Oh boo hoo, poor Nick is being beat up by the press. Our poor baby didn't do anything wrong. But he's trying to keep a stiff upper lip and get on with his life....


Are you kidding me?

And somewhere in all this the police are supposedly investigating this thing, but so far nothing has been done. Nada. Why? Because Nick's the spoiled brat kid of some celebrity and no one wants to step on the toes of anyone famous. We wouldn't want to offend anybody.

This whole thing infuriates the heck out of me.

Me Me Me Meme

Sfgirl tagged me with a fun, self-indulgent (are there any other kind?) meme. This one is the "your name" meme and the rules are as follows:

1) Go to http://www.google.com/

2) Click on Google images
3) Type in your name and search
4) Repost (w/ a link) the picture of the oddest, craziest, strangest, coolest, oldest, etc. person that shares your name. Post multiples if you find a few you like.
5) Have fun with it and pass it on.

My real name is Theresa. I suppose I could do the meme with SQT, but I usually get a bunch of technical sites, so I'll skip it.

From Wikipedia: The meaning of the name Theresa, or Teresa, is "one who reaps". The name implies one who is destined to work hard, but who will receive great bounty for her efforts. The name is associated with the fall season of the earth's life cycle: a time of harvest, of plenty, of purposeful labors, of warmth and generosity. Theresa shares her harvest with the world, as the earth has given its fruits to Theresa, thus respecting and supporting the natural cycle of life.

Yeesh, that sounds exciting doesn't it? Okay, lets see who shares my name.


This adorable girl shares my exact name: Theresa Lucas, though she spells her name Teresa. She is on an acting school website, so I'd say it's safe to say she's an aspiring actress.

This is a picture of the Hotel Theresa in Harlem. Apparently it's quite famous. Way back when it first opened in 1913 only white guests were accepted. This changed in 1940 and since then the guest roster has included, Louis Armstrong, Sugar Ray Robinson, Lena Horne, Josephine Baker, Dorothy Dandridge, Duke Ellington, Muhammad Ali and even Fidel Castro.


Well, there's just no getting around the fact that most Theresa's that can claim an Irish Catholic background were probably named after St. Theresa. I was in fact named after my mom, who was named after St. Theresa. This picture is The Ecstasy of St. Theresa, it is the central marble group of a sculpture complex designed and completed by Gian Lorenzo Bernini for the Cornaro Chapel of Santa Maria della Vittoria in Rome. And it is one of the sculptural masterpieces of High Roman Baroque.


This is probably my favorite find. I found this Teresa Lucas on a Benny Hill website. Apparently she was one of "Hill's Angels" and was most notably featured in a segment called "Love Machine."

That's all I found right off that got my attention. As usual I'm not going to actually tag anyone, though if you want to do this one, consider yourself tagged. If you like meme's do this one. It's kind of fun to find out a little history on your own name.

Redemption

Time again for another assignment from Stewart Sternberg. This one is supposed to incorporate the line I see things in darkness that no should see by light of day... We are also supposed to pick ten words from our writing and use a thesaurus to replace them with other words rich with meaning. .....Oh, and should I mention that Father Stewart is an homage to our own Mr. Sternberg??

I see things in darkness that no one should see by light of day.

I prefer the darkness.

"Father Stewart!"

I turn my head as I hear my name and see a novice running in my direction with her braids flying in cadence with her footsteps.

"Father" she gasps out as she comes to a stop in front of me.

"Yes daughter?"

"Brother Isaac asks for you, he says it's urgent."

I raise my eyebrows. Isaac has been working on a special task for me and I know he wouldn't have sent for me if it wasn't, in fact, urgent.

"Thank you my child." I say as I bless her with a caress across the cheek before I walk away.

I don't need to ask where Isaac is and I head down a side corridor without another word to the novice who had come for me. So preoccupied am I with concern over Isaac that I almost trip over a woman scrubbing the floor in the middle of the hallway. A rebuke is on my lips before I realize it is Kara and I stop myself before uttering any angry words.

Kara holds a special place in my heart; she was my first. The first soul I saved. Kara had been a prostitute in her old life and the conflict between her profession and her conscience had brought her to my doorstep many years ago. I was early in my calling and perhaps a bit too earnest in my desire to help my flock find redemption and Kara's mind had been altered more than I intended. She ended up simple and capable of little more small chores. But her soul is no longer in danger of being lost and that is all that matters.

Kara doesn't talk as she looks up at me nor does she smile; rather she just stares as is her way. Though I am in a hurry I kneel down and gently wipe a bit of spittle from Kara's lip before looking into her eyes for some sign of recognition. But her focus is elsewhere and I know it is the will of God that her mind has been removed from most mundane concerns. I guide her hand back to her scrubbing and continue on my way.

The church has grown over the years and odd corridors have been added as space was needed. I had seen to the building of rooms for my personal use and had found them very useful on many occasions.

Isaac is the only person I have come to trust with my secrets though I am not sure the One God will consider him worthy to take over for me once I have taken my place at my God’s side. I am sure He will reveal His will to me in time as He has done in the past.

The hallways are very dim as I do not light many torches to show the way. I believe sin divulges its secrets in the darkness and I have made the night my servant. Many people have walked these passageways with me as I gave them the opportunity to meditate on their transgressions without the light to distract them.

As I come closer to my destination I can hear Isaac’s voice echoing off the walls and can’t help but frown in concern; this has never happened before.

Picking up my pace I quickly come to the door I am looking for and Isaac’s muffled words begin to take on some clarity. I listen at the door so I don’t walk into the situation unprepared.

“You wanted this!” Isaac yells “This is your only chance, you know that!”

The reply is too indistinct to hear.

“You cannot change your mind!” Isaac continues, but the rest is lost as he lowers his voice. It doesn’t matter, I know enough.

I open the door and enter quickly, hoping to catch the man who is the object of Isaac’s attention in an unguarded moment.

He is sitting in a chair in the middle of a room devoid of any ornamentation and only the light of a single candle. He is not physically changed from the last time I saw him other than the sweat on his brow though it is not uncommon for people sitting in that chair to leave with far more gray hair than they started with.

I see fear and pain on his face but not enough determination to worry me. Fear is easy to deal with; it’s the pain I must convince him is necessary for his salvation.

I look at Isaac in sadness, I had expected more of him. Properly rebuked he looks down at the ground and steps back.

I have compassion for the man in front of me. What he has chosen to do is not easy but he must find the courage to continue; the fate of his soul depends upon it.

"Brother Markus."

His attention is drawn to me even though I speak his name in the barest of whispers. His hair is wet from perspiration and his eyes are shot through with red but his gaze never wavers from my face as he listens to my voice.

"Why have you weakened my son?"

"I can't... this isn't right...." His voice is hoarse and weak and he swallows convulsively. I watch him silently and wait for him to continue.

"I didn't know." He quietly begins to sob. "I didn't know."

I lay my hand on his arm half expecting him to flinch but he doesn't. I am not the one who has been the deliverer of his punishment so he does not fear my touch.

I wait until he is composed enough to hear me before I speak again.

"You have not been here long, have you my son?" I ask him.

He looks confused and does not answer.

"You have only been under Isaac's care for two days now," I explain patiently. "Yet you have many years of sin to atone for. Do you believe God will only punish you for two days after you sit in judgment before him?"

His mouth works but still no words emerge. I grip his arm harder in my desire to make him understand.

"I am offering you eternal bliss my son! All that you must do is be willing to suffer God's retribution in your mortal body to save your soul. How can you waver now? I am giving you the greatest gift I can bestow."

Tears are running silently down his face and I can see acceptance in his eyes. I run my hand across his forehead and murmur words of encouragement. I realize it was a mistake to allow Isaac to take my place so soon and know I will have to finish this myself.

Before Markus has a chance to become more upset I place my hands on either side of his head and let the power flow from my hands into his body. His eyes roll up into his head as his body begins to convulse from the pain, though I do not allow him to lapse into unconsciousness. He must be aware or God will not accept this reckoning.

I can feel the weight of his sins flow into my body and savor the rapture I feel in his deliverance. I have missed this feeling and realize that Isaac's failure was God's way of enlightening me that I must continue this work myself. Slowly I allow the flow of power to fade from my hands and watch Markus slump in the chair. I kiss his forehead in blessing before I stand and turn my attention to Isaac.

"I am afraid you were not ready to take my place my son." I shake my head sadly, "And I had not thought you would need to return to the chair so soon."



Original words...............................Replaced by
Salvation....................................Redemption
Simple.......................................Mundane
Corridors....................................Passageways
Sins.........................................Transgressions
Punishment...................................Retribution
Give.........................................Bestow
Project......................................Task
Euphoria.....................................Rapture
Telling......................................Enlightening
Understanding................................Acceptance

Some Small Adjustments

I don't know if anyone will come here to read any of my 3 part story that began with "Mark" and continued with "Aftermath" and "Dangerous Lines." I've decided to take them down because I am reworking the story to enter it into a short story writing contest. I am only keeping a small portion of it and completely redoing most of it to make it an original story. But since it is based on a story that I started here on the blog, I wanted to take it down so there wouldn't be any conflict or reason I couldn't get it published. If, on the off hand, anyone wants to read the originals, email me and I will send them to you.

Thanks.

Renewal

Here it is, the latest Stewart Sternberg assignment. The theme is renewal.

Sara heard a man in the line talking about fear. He had two men to either side of him and seemed to like the audience.

"Fear is like a blanket you see, it covers you, smothers you......"

Sara listened with growing contempt. She had been walking in line with the rest of the refugees for the last two days. Like most of the sad group she didn't have a blanket, or any other supplies for that matter. Her face had worn down to the bone, closely resembling the threadbare condition of her jacket.

How could anyone who had ever felt real fear compare it to a blanket? A blanket enveloped you with warmth and comfort.

Fear stripped you bare.

She had been living in a shell that used to be a home. At night she huddled in the corner of the rubble strewn bedroom and tried to stay away from the window and the yellow eyes that looked inside. It had taken less than one night before she gave up the comfort of blanket in favor of using it to cover the window. She didn't know why the creatures that scratched outside the door never came in and she wasn't about to ask.

She wanted to tell the man that she knew what fear tasted like, the coppery feel of it on her tongue and the dryness it left behind. She wanted to tell him that when he talked about naked fear, then he would know what he was talking about. But she wasn't interested enough to waste the time.

Sara didn't have any kids and she knew what a blessing that was right now. Maybe once it was a dream, but no longer. She watched mothers, and the few fathers who were still left, herd their children over the rocky terrain. She saw the fear in their eyes as they gave what little food there was to the kids, not daring to think that more would come soon.

The hills they traveled through were dark. The scouts were trying to shelter them from the sun and the eyes of wandering-- something. Scott had left months ago to fight against those who would take their home, but no one expected that things out of nightmares would materialize when before only guns and bombs had been used. Once she saw the eyes at the window, she knew better than to expect his return.

She had been pulled out of her village two days ago in what was being called a rescue if one insisted on believing it possible. There had been rumors that the one who coveted their land was sending more men and more creatures to drive them out. It didn't take much persuasion to convince the few people left to leave.

So here she was, listening to a man she'd never seen before talk about something he knew nothing about.

Then it started with a howling in the North end of the gorge, about a half mile back. The sounds were alarmingly loud for so far away and coming toward them fast. Sara wasn't a fast runner and she knew her only hope was to hide and maybe get lost in the confusion. There were more than a dozen families with twice as many kids who had the same idea and she tripped over several screaming people who were trying to herd their children toward some sort of shelter. She almost ran down a girl who couldn't have been more than two who was sitting in the middle of the road crying for her mother. Sara looked frantically around but didn't see anyone claiming the child. Without thinking she scooped her up and kept running.

By this time the howling was so loud she couldn't think. She made it to the nearest blanket of scrub she could find and ducked under it with the child. Desperate to save herself and the girl she held her hand over the girls mouth and crying in terror kept shushing the child to keep her quiet. Soon the wailing was so loud Sara didn't even bother trying to keep the girl quiet as she didn't think it would make any difference. Wind whipped at her face as the noise reached a crescendo and she thought her ears would bleed.

The noise stopped so abruptly she didn’t realize it at first.

It seemed as if it was over too fast. Too easy. Sara couldn't force herself to move, finding strange comfort and warmth in holding the child despite the violent quaking of the girl's little body.

It was the calls of desperate parents that brought her out of her spell; that and the frantic squirming of the girl.

No one claimed the child at first and Sara feared that her parents had been lost with the people they were just realizing had been taken with the noise and the wind.

“Emma!”

The child immediately responded to her name and took off running toward her mother, without a backward glance at Sara, who was too numb to care.

It was a weirdly detached group that continued on. There were people missing but no one held any illusions that they would be found. The leaders of the group hurried them on with promises of shelter before nightfall.

Sara listened for the man whom she had heard speaking earlier but he appeared to be among the missing. That made her sad for some reason.

But then the most unexpected thing happened. The trail emptied out of the hills they had been traveling for the last two days and sloped gently down into a valley that looked so green, so alive to Sara’s tired eyes. Shouts came from the group as a large city came into view and it looked as if their strange journey was coming to an end.

There were even people waiting for their group to arrive.

Sara couldn't fathom who could possibly be waiting for the people of her village, or why. She barely spared a glance for the people grouped at the bottom of the trail when for some reason a figure holding onto a crutch caught her eye. Something in the way he stood........

“Scott!”

The name exploded from her as she felt the blood rush to her face. She started running though her legs felt as if they might collapse.

“Sara!”

She knew she wasn’t mistaken when she heard Scott call her name. Running full out she almost crashed directly into him until she realized he couldn’t stand on his own. But before she could fully stop, Scott threw the crutch to the side and limped into her embrace.

And for the first time in too long, Sara dared to let herself feel hope in a warm, blanketing hug.

Copper and Patch

Here's my latest writing assignment from Stewart Sternberg. This one is supposed to be from the perspective of a pet.

Copper didn't like the puppy.

Puppies have no dignity she told him.

Patch was all wiggles and puppy enthusiasm and Copper wanted no part of that. Copper was sure she had never been so excitable. She had watched over two fine children and she couldn't love them more if they were her own pups.

The family had managed to carve out their own bit of green in the desert, but Copper knew all too well the hazards the could have threatened her charges. She could smell on the wind when the wild dogs were near and she knew how to sniff out the hidey holes of the snakes who might strike out at moving legs.

Puppies did not know how to watch over children properly.

Copper loved her home. She loved to roam the ranch, bark hello to the horses and steal food from the pigs. As long as she could remember she'd follow the kids as they did their chores; patiently waiting until they had time to throw a stick for her and pat her glossy coat when she returned it to them. She most definitely didn't like to play fetch when Patch was around.

Patch had started to make it his habit to trot at her heels as she followed the kids. Sometimes Copper would give Patch a quick nip to remind him that she was boss. But puppies are forgetful and it usually wasn't long before Patch would jump on Copper's back, earning another scolding.

Remember your place she would growl at him.

She also was quite affronted that her family didn't seem to mind the pup's inappropriate enthusiasm. So she continued to hold herself aloof whenever the family would laugh and encourage the mad frenzy of puppy energy that Patch regularly displayed.

But as pups do, Patch would tire in the early evening and sleep long enough for Copper to have time with the family to herself. She would lay herself flat as she could in front of the TV so the kids could lay their heads on her belly as they watched their shows. Close proximity to kids often meant treats given when the parents weren't looking too.

But there was an unusual amount of activity on this late Fall day and Copper followed Dad around with her ears perked forward trying to figure out what was going on. And then she heard the word that let her know what all the excitement was about; hunting.

Oh, Copper loved to hunt. It didn't matter if it was ducks or deer, just so long as she got to run into the woods and help flush out game. Copper didn't know that she had the nose and breeding for hunting, she just knew it felt right. She couldn't help but wiggle with excitement as she followed Dad around the house, her body quivering under his hand as he reached down to pet her.

"You know where we're going tomorrow don't 'cha girl?" Dad said and she barked with excitement.

Copper got a little carried away and woke up Patch. After yawning and stretching the pup came in and wagged his tail in response to Copper's excitement.

"Look Copper, you'll have Patch to help you this year, won't 'cha girl?"

Copper's ears drooped a little and she tried to plead with her eyes to have this one thing to herself. But Dad just ruffled her ears and kept on with his preparations.

I get to go too! I get to go too! said Patch as he ran in circles around Copper.

Copper barked sharply at Patch, behave! But Patch was too excited to listen.

So Copper resigned herself to a hunting trip with the puppy.

You do what I tell you to do she instructed Patch, though she didn't think he'd listen.

The family got up before dawn the next morning since they had to travel closer to the mountains for good hunting. Copper made sure she got the preferred seat between the kids while Patch sort of roamed around the very back of the car.

Are we almost there yet Copper? The pup kept asking.

Copper chuffed at Patch, but didn't bother answering. They'd get there soon enough.

And despite the puppy's company, Copper was in a grand mood. She was with her family and they were going hunting.

The weather was still warm, though the promise of Winter hung in the early morning air. Copper edged over to the window and scented the air, though they were going to fast to really catch a single odor. But she knew by the familiar smells they were getting close to their destination. Forest foliage flew by the window as they left the last of their desert home behind.

Once they hit the rutted dirt road that led to the cabin, Copper began to get excited. She stood over Younger Brother and looked out the window, waiting for the cabin to come into view. Patch didn't know what to look for, but taking his cues from Copper, he began to excitedly jump around the back.

Soon they were there and Copper bounded out the door as soon as it was open. Knowing that the family liked to get settled before they'd head out, she followed Dad as he put away the supplies. Patch made a general nuisance of himself by running under everyone's feet.

Once they started laying out gear by the front door Copper knew it was almost time to go. Mom would stay back at the cabin with Younger Sister since they didn't like to hunt, while Dad, Older Brother and Younger Brother would go out with the dogs.

Dad had brought something he called a "bow" which let Copper know they were hunting deer this time. And though Dad also brought the "rifle" he never brought the "bow" when they were hunting duck.

We're hunting a big four legged animal called a "deer" she told Patch.

What does it look like? he asked.

It's very tall, with long skinny legs. Just follow me and I'll show you.

Once Dad and the boys starting putting on their gear Copper almost danced with anticipation.

"Copper! Patch! Time to go!" Dad called out and they began their trek into the woods.

Copper roamed ahead with her nose to the ground trying to scent out deer for Dad to bring down. She could smell old tracks and sometimes followed them for awhile to see if they led to a common path or a drinking hole. But usually she'd come across a newer scent and veer off on that trail instead. Patch hung at her heels trying to recognize the unfamiliar scents on the ground but mostly followed Copper since he didn't know what he was looking for. Dad and the boys fanned out behind the dogs ready to run if Copper bayed to let them know she scented their quarry.

Before long Copper found a recent trail and began to trot at a faster pace to let her family know she was on the trail.

"Looks like she found something boys," Dad always called out as they picked up the pace to keep up.

And sure enough Copper saw a flash of the deer's white tail as it turned and bounded into the woods. Baying loudly Copper took off after the deer leaving Patch to try to catch up as Dad and the boys took off at a run after Copper and the deer.

Copper was able to cut through the trees and grass quickly since she was low to the ground. She kept baying loudly, as she had been taught, so that the hunters knew where to follow and stay on the trail. Patch struggled to keep up, and tripped over fallen branches as he ran, but he could scent Copper on the ground so he knew where to follow.

Amid lots of baying, yelling and crashing though the underbrush, Dad yelled out that he had sighted the deer and the boys stayed back as Dad took his shot.

"I think I got her!" Dad yelled, though it was hard to tell since the deer kept running.

Copper stayed on the trail and within a few yards spotted blood drops on the ground and knew Dad had in fact hit the deer. Copper barked to get Dad's attention and he ran over to see what Copper had found.

"There's blood, hopefully she won't go too much further," he told Older Brother as he walked up and they began to follow Copper further into the forest.

Patch caught up as they slowed down and again began to trot right behind Copper as she followed the blood trail to try to find the injured deer.

Copper was intent on the deer's trail and barely lifted her nose off the ground as the scent of fear and blood got stronger as she began to gain on the deer. The trees were thick and there weren't many breaks in the forest so Copper slowed down to let her family keep up. There was a lot of blood on the ground so she knew the deer was too injured to go fast enough or far enough to get away. Sure enough she soon saw the deer thrashing weakly on the ground near a large rock outcropping and she bayed again to let Dad know she'd found her target.

Copper sat down and didn't go any closer to the deer as she had been trained and waited for Dad to catch up. She could hear her family crashing in the woods behind her and knew they were almost there. Patch reached her first and wiggled with excitement and ran in circles around her.

Why are you waiting here Copper? Isn't it more fun to grab the deer?

WE don't grab the deer she told the pup that's Dad's job.

Younger Brother was actually the first to arrive.

"Good job Copper!" He told her as ran his hand over her head. "You too Patch!" He said as he tried to pet the excited puppy.

Not bothering to wait for Dad, Younger Brother started approaching the now still deer. He had almost reached her when a loud noise high up on the rocks suddenly startled Copper and she caught a scent that caused a thrill of alarm to go through her body.

BIG CAT! BIG CAT! was all she had time to think as a tremendous yowl sounded through the valley. Younger Brother fell back in alarm as he realized there was an enormous mountain lion perched on the rocks just above where the deer had come to rest during it's final struggle.

Copper bunched her legs and began to launch herself to where Younger Brother lay in an attempt to get there before the big cat could attack.

The cat screamed again and jumped down from the rocks and landed in front of the deer and faced off toward Younger Brother in an attempt to keep him away from the deer.

Panicked, Copper started barking and running toward the deer, but before she could get there a flash of white and black fur suddenly appeared in front of the cat barking furiously. Copper realized that Patch had instinctively run at the cat in an attempt to protect Younger Brother.

Knowing that the little dog would not be a match for the big cat Copper redoubled her efforts and launched herself at the cat just as it raised a massive paw to bat the little dog away from her. Just as the cat brought it's paw down Copper landed right between the cat and Patch and she felt the stinging pain of the cat's claws as they raked across her right flank.

Yelping in pain, Copper nonetheless held her ground and began to growl furiously at the cat. Patch stayed close barking in a high pitched frenzy as the cat reared up and prepared to launch itself at Copper again.

BOOM!

Dad had arrived and fired the rifle toward the cat, but wide so it wouldn't hit the dogs.

Reacting to the noise the cat fell back crouched facing the newest threat.

BOOM!

The rifle fired again and cat fell back once again, not getting up this time.

Knowing the immediate danger was over, Copper sank the ground and began licking her flank, whimpering a bit at the pain.

Dad hurried over to the dogs and began looking over Copper's injury.

Are you ok Copper? Patch asked anxiously as he laid down in front of Copper nose to nose worriedly seeing if she was ok.

Copper looked up at the pup. Licking his ear gently she quietly said to him.

You did good Patch, real good. I couldn't be prouder of you if you were my own pup.

Gently scooping up Copper into his arms, Dad picked her up and without a single look back at the fallen cat began to carry her back to the cabin, and Copper knew everything would be alright. Their family was safe.

Head Rush

This assignment is again from Stewart Sternberg of House of Sternberg. It's supposed to be about unrequited love from the gender perspective opposite my own. And the main character is supposed to have a handicap, imagined or otherwise. Here goes...


She's late again. This is the third time this week. I wonder what's causing the deviation in her schedule. I have been keeping track for months and this is the first time she's been this far off.

I feel a little panicked. I shouldn't have gone off my meds, but I can't focus when I'm medicated. I need to be able to concentrate. I need......

My mind has wandered again. That scares me. I stopped taking the clozapine so I could C O N C E N T R A T E.

I breath deeply, in and out my nose, in and out. I can feel the oxygen clearing my mind, giving me life, giving me direction.

God, she's beautiful. Beeeuuutiifuuuuullll. She's wearing black today. I like her in pink better. Pastels set off her eyes. I think about the colors I've seen her in. I lose myself in a kaleidoscope of colors, imagining each one on her skin. I can almost see yellow swirls forming in the shiny surface of her shoes. That’s better, a little color to brighten things up.

I follow her as she leaves her apartment. She’s off schedule by seven minutes, I counted off each second as I waited for her front door to open. She doesn’t look in my direction, but then, she never does. She’s focused on where she’s going as always. I carefully count off fifteen steps before I follow. I don’t like to be closer, I’m not ready for our auras to touch.

She passes the coffee shop. She doesn’t stop. Why doesn’t she stop? She always stops. I can feel the panic welling up in me. I can’t take this much deviation in schedule. It scares me. Why is she not going in? I stand in front of the coffee shop, indecisive. I want to go in. I need to go in. I need to see her order a mocha latte. She’s walking away, she’s walking down the sidewalk but I can’t seem to move.

A man jostles me as he tries to get past me.

“Shit man, you’re blocking the door...”

I stumble forward a step. This is good. It moves me toward her. It was meant to be. I turn to thank the man for helping me, but he’s gone. Tears spring to my eyes, where’d he go? I need to thank him before I can follow her.

“THANK YOU!” I yell. I hope he hears it, I can’t stop to make sure. I have to go, she’s almost twenty feet away from me now and I need to hurry if I want to make sure she stays within the fifteen foot distance I am comfortable with.

Okay, I know she has to be at work. I speed my steps up. I alternate between watching the ground for cracks and looking at her back. I noticed a long time ago that she doesn’t step on the cracks either. That’s how I know she understands me. She doesn’t want to fall through either, she knows the darkness that waits underneath.

I catch up. I feel better. Things are back to normal. I count her steps, yes, fifteen steps apart. Okay.

She passes the front door of her office and keeps going.

Blind rage fills me. What is she doing? Something’s wrong. Something’s really wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

I start to run, fourteen feet, ten, eight, six....I’ve never been this close to her before. But I have to get her back to her office. She needs to go back. The world will fly apart if she doesn’t go back.

I’m yelling now.

“Back! Back! You must go back!.”

She stops and turns around. She looks at me. She looks confused. She’s lost and I have to help her go back. I reach her and grab her arm.

“BACK!”

“Let go of me!” she yells.

“BACK!”

“Get off me!”

“BACK!”

I feel arms on me, pulling me off of her. But she stops moving. That’s good. Now if I can just get her to understand that she needs to go back.

“BACK!” I yell again. My eyes appeal to her but I don’t know if she understands. I try to show her, but my arms won’t move. I look down and see hands holding me.

“Back” I start to cry.

“Back” I whimper as I am taken away from her.

Walter

This is an exercise in bad writing. I think it took me a little time to get into it. I actually had more writers block with this than I usually do because I found it harder to think of ridiculous metaphores than anything else. But it was fun. I hope you think it stinks!

The holidays were no fun for someone with holes in his pockets.

Walter shuffled down the sidewalk in a lurching kind of motion, his hands in his pockets fingering the hole he had just found all the while looking like a whipped dog that had been drowned too many times.

He had started the day with a fifty in that pocket and had planned to use it on small holiday celebration he had planned just for himself. He had no family, no place to spend Christmas Eve so he figured a room and a prostitute would do just fine. But now his money was gone and he thought finding a whore who would give him a freebie about as likely as finding a needle in a stack of sewing.

He knew the street though and hoped someone would give him some credit. Who knows maybe even whores had the holiday spirit. He knew he looked like a reject from a 70's thrift store but he didn't care. He had never bothered to worry about his looks, the only women who bothered with him were paid to do it. Even on Christmas.

Spotting a woman who was as likely to be a real redhead as O.J. Simpson was as likely to be guilty he lurched to a stop. He thought her name was Fern, but he wasn't sure.

"Ar..Ar...Ar, you Fern?"

"What's it to ya?"

"I.. I.. was loo.. loo lookin' for..somethin'.." he said looking around.

"Yeah?"

Walter just kind of stood there with his head down. Pathetic like a puppy.

"Well, what are ya wastin' my time for?"

Walter shrugged.

"Go on to the Salvation Army will ya? I don't do handouts."

Walter lurched on looking for someone else to talk to. It wasn't fair, being burdened with a stutter. No one wanted to talk to a guy who spit his words like a woodpecker trying to bash it's brains in on a tree at the speed of light.

His walk was kind of like his talk, stuttering. But he kept trying. He was a lonely guy and he hoped to find a lonely gal who didn't have anything better to do than spend the night with him. Pitiful but sad.

He spotted another woman a little further down the street. Coincidentally she was standing in front of the Salvation Army looking a little like someone else's leftovers too. He walked up and stood in front of her but couldn’t find anything to say even though the stutter would have made it really hard anyway.

He just stood.

Apparently she didn’t have much to say either because she just stood quietly too. Finally Walter gathered up his courage and looked up and into eyes as blue as daisies in a field of wheat and asked her name.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Sammy.” She whispered quietly.

Walter thought for a second.

“Hi Sammy..d..d.. do you want to go with me?” He was surprised his stutter wasn’t as bad as is usually was, because it was usually bad.

Sammy closed her eyes and seemed to be thinking, though Walter thought maybe she could sleep on her feet. Who knew?

Finally she opened her eyes and looked at him.

Reaching out she grabbed his hand and they walked down the street like two people who were destined to meet like wolves who mate for life on their first date.