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Archive for October, 2010


Several times a week I see an elderly woman working in her yard. There she is wearing tan slacks, cotton shirt and wide brim straw hat, bent over pullling weeds under the shade of tall trees. This is what I think of when I think about America. Some people might imagine parades, fireworks on the 4th of July, fishing at the lake, picnics in the park or a roaring fire and a good book.

I think of my Grandmother working in the yard.

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You never know what you might find if you clean out your old files. For instance, I found a novel I wrote when I was 16. Yes, it was with much fear and trepidation that I dare read this horror from the past, a romance novel. It was only two short years later that I was told I should give up writing by a college professor and took her at her word. I stopped writing for more than 20 years. Here is an excerpt —

Standing at the top of the stairs, the darkened corridor seemed strangely threatening. In Mariah’s haste to escape her Father’s lecture, she had forgotten to take a lamp. She heard a low voice from the shadows.

“From the sound of things, I win. Get use to it. I always win.”

Mariah felt the warmth of Damon’s body behind her. She trembled in spite of herself.

“We’ll make a splendid couple.” Damon’s breath was hot against her ear.

“I’ll not submit to this without a fight.” She threatened, turning to face him.

Damon’s dark curls fell across his forehead. His chiseled features settled into a thin smile, but the hard glint in his steel-gray eyes betrayed him.

“I can be very persuasive.” Damon griped her arm.

Mariah stiffened. The knot in her stomach tightened. She wanted to run, but Damon held her fast.

His hold tightened. “And you know what they say.” His voice barely audible.

Mariah shook her head.

“All’s fair in love and war.”

She detected a threat behind his words. She tried to pull away, but the more she struggled, the harder he held her.

“You’re hurting me.” She gasped.

“Was I? I didn’t realize.” Damon smiled, releasing her.

Mariah stumbled before regaining her balance.

“Good night, Love.” Damon quickly disappeared down the stairs.

Mariah retreated to her room. She lit the lamp on the table. The light danced across the wall and the shadows retreated to the corner. Blank canvases leaned against the bulging bookcases. Paints and brushes were strewn liberally about. Books were stacked in precarious piles. Everything was familiar, but different. What was important this morning, didn’t matter now. Mariah sank down on her bed. Her shoulders slumped. Her slender figure cast a small shadow on the wall in front of her. She stared at the wallpaper without seeing it. Pastel pink and blue flowers wove up the walls on pale green vines.

How could everything have gone so wrong? Staring at the flowers, she couldn’t help but replay the day’s events in her mind. …

I don’t think it’s that bad really. I don’t have the last 1/3 or so, but I remember it ended with Mariah knocking Damon in a raging river, presumably to his death. Damon of course, was not the hero. I was told I was too dark. That may have been right for 1978/79. Makes me wish I hadn’t stopped writing for so long.

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DC needs a posse, a team to help him conquer evil. A trifecta is in order. DC is of course the first in our trio. A male companion, one able to stand up to a personality like DCs is needed. I think I’ll add the reincarnation of the Dalai Lama. Since this is a farce, he was reincarnated as a dog and is a little chauvinistic. The third personality should be female, beautiful and have a history with the Dalai Lama, perhaps Illiana, Godess of War and Love. So the first encounter might not go smoothly after a few centuries of feuding. —

A beautiful woman stood at the chair across from mine.

“This chair taken?” she asked.

“No,” I said.

She sat.

“What a cute dog,” she said, patting Dalai’s head so hard he winced.

“Ass,” Dalai growled.

“Pig,” she replied, tossing her dark hair back with a flip of her head.

The dog and woman seemed acquainted, but refused to look at each other.

“You didn’t call,” the woman said, malice evident in her voice.

“It was one date,” the dog replied. “Centuries ago, lay off it.”

(As the conversation continued, Dalai and Illiana disagree with the approach for saving the world.”

“I think I know best,” Dalai continued, lecturing, “I have lived for five centuries.”

“Four and a half.” Illiana’s dark eyes sparkled.

“What?”

“Four and a half. Remember the snake in Bangalore?”

“That was you. That snake bite killed me.”

“You didn’t call.”

“Enough with the calling.”

“Jerk.” Illiana slammed her cup down.

“Bitch.”

“You should talk.”

“Check again, I’m all man.” Dalai’s ears lifted.

“You check again.” Illiana smirked.

Dalia gave a quick double check only to realize Illiana was right. He was indeed a female dog.

“Are you kidding me?” he yelled, looking skyward. “Not just a dog, but a female dog. Are you kidding me?”

“Karma sucks.” Illiana took another sip of coffee.

“Asshole,” Dalai replied.

“You might want to stop calling me names. Last time it was bitch and look what happened. Keep it up. You never know what you might come back as next.”

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