What Happened?

What Happened?
By P.J. Bedingfield

Red, black, blue, green. The colors swirled together. Mostly, it was black, with a little orange thrown in; then blessed, blissful nothing. A soft moan floated through the darkness. A blast of pain, bright light, noise! Oooo, hurts!
I waved my hand at the light. “Go away!”
“Come on, be still, you’re bleeding all over my nice clean scrubs!”
I knew that voice. It was familiar, but it was just too much trouble to concentrate. I let go and floated back to the darkness.
“She okay?” I heard someone asking.
“Doc said it was touch and go for a while, but she’ll heal and be back to harass us in under a month.”
I know those voices, but why couldn’t I place them? I sighed. The sound of material rubbing against material floated to my ears.
“Where am I?” I asked the voices.
“Shaman General, on the base. You’re gonna be okay. Just rest.”
I opened my eyes and saw a large, heavyset man standing beside the bed. A look of concern rippled across his features before being replaced by a hard, stone-like expression.
“Did anyone get the name of that truck?” I asked. I reached up to touch my head, but the man stopped me and placed my hand back on the bed.
“Wasn’t a truck, girlie-girl. Was a couple of punks, but they won’t be bothering you, or anyone else, again.”
“Oh yeah, did I knock ‘em for a true loop?”
“The man grinned, “More than a loop, I’m afraid. You still haven’t shown me how you do that little trick of yours.”
His name came to me in a flash. I felt relief wash across my mind as memories flooded my brain.
Two young guys. One white, one Hispanic; pulling a knife; demanding money, or credit cards. I refused and the fight began. I don’t remember much after the first punch. I remembered a bright flash of light followed quickly by red flooding my vision.
The next thing I know, I’m lying on this bed in a hospital on some base in who-knows-where.
I look around and spot the other person in the room. I know him, too. Jay Knall, District Super from D.C.
“What’s up? Why both of you here? Mike, did I go off the deep end again? Am I in trouble, again?” I worried my bottom lip until I tasted blood.
“Nah, nah, you’re okay. You were provoked. Jay here is just checking up to make sure you’re okay.” Mike rubbed his hands across his bald top and looked anywhere but at me.
“What happened?” I asked.

Went to class today. Anatomy of a Story.

It's interesting to read some of the other people's writings and give feedback, as well as receive feedback.

Next week is another class. Must come up with a writing example of a great opening chapter....hmmmm

Must get the muse stirred up.

Photo

See the photo on the upper left corner? That's the book I wrote and published.

You can order it thru Amazon.com or Half Price books or any other reputable book seller or store.

Basically, it's about a deaf child and a hearing family. Buy and read and drop me a line on what you think about it.

Book two will soon be available!

Pele's Revenge I

She felt the desecration. Part of her was being taken away. The anger flares in the darkness and a small spark ignites a flame of vengeance. The anger grows. Fissures appear.

Pressure builds and begins pushing upward. The pressure pushes harder, moving rock and earth from its path. Heat builds as well, adding to the pressure, ready to ignite. Stone and minerals melt in the heat; forming pockets of molten rock and glowing magma. All creep ever upward.

The ground begins to shift and move aside. Tremors cause cracks in the Earth's crust and steam begins to vent into the outer surfaces. Large clouds form over the openings, bringing with it the stench of sulphur and other gases. The air becomes heated and noxious.

A low, ominous rumble, a slight quiver in the Earth's surface sends people scrambling for safety.

Pele is awake and very angry..........

Pele's Revenge-Intro

Pele (Goddess of the Volcanoes)
When visiting the volcanoes, you must respect Pele, the goddess of the volcanoes. Her historical name, “Ka Wahine’ai hona,” means the woman who devours the land. Pele was both respected and feared. Hawaiian legends assert that Pele, who often appears as an old woman caused earthquakes by stomping her feet and eruptions by digging into the ground. While Kilauea Volcano was erupting in 1960, many say they saw an old lady with a dog walking on the eastern coast of the Big Island. She was said to have traveled door to door begging for food. Many people ignored her except the Kapoho lighthouse keeper. He invited her in and gave her food and the lighthouse was spared from the fiery lava. Everything else around was destroyed. Many still honor her to this day by providing her with offerings such as ohelo berries or gin just, to make sure she spares them from harm.

Late night

Here it is, a Friday night and I can't sleep, so what do I do? Play on the computer, of course.

Seems an overfull tummy can indeed keep you awake. I finally fed my fish craving, rather, over fed it, I should say. Then really overdid it by having a sticky bunn afterwards. Sure was good at the time, though. Have no one to blame but myself.

I made a pig of myself and now I am paying for it. LOL Sigh..........Good thing it's just me and the animals.

The wind is playing with the wind chimes. Can you hear them? "Ting, ting, ting" musically calling to the dark. "Ting, ting, ting" Won't you come and play?

The moon is sliding by on silent wings while stars play peek-a-boo through the clouds. A break in the clouds and look! Streaking across the sky, leaving a curving line of light that slowly fades away. Quick, make a wish!

Thank goodness for automatic draft backup!

It's quiet now, even the dogs have fallen asleep. Listen, I hear them calling again!

"Ting, ting, ting" Perhaps it is the special sound of fairy wings as they scatter the morning dew across the ground and in the trees.

A passing car brakes the quiet, but only briefly. Above the buzz of a motorized contraption I can hear the elusive call, "Ting, ting, ting"

Do I dare answer? Should I follow thier trail into the night? Would I vanish from this world and emerge into the ethrall?

"Ting, ting, ting" The call is strong, sad and compelling. My mood is becoming meloncholy.

I feel a weariness overcoming me. My eyes are heavy with sleep, yet still I hear the elusive call, "Ting, ting, ting"

I give myself a mental shake and try to bring myself back to more solid ground lest I travel wearily into another realm and never return.

"Sleep, perchance to dream" Yes, sweet dreams. Happy dreams. Dreams of friends and fun. Dreams of travel, of coming home.

I slip into the darkness, mind an empty slate. Velvet blankets me as muscles, long used and tired begin to relax.

What is this rambling thought but that of a person up too long and tired beyond that of endurance.

I answer the call at last. "Ting, ting, ting" I drift into sleep.

Goodnight, my friend, for parting is sweet sorrow, but tomorrow, perchance to dream.

The Tickling Muse

I can feel it. A small tickle, light as a feather's touch at the back of my mind. A story is forming, quietly knocking to be released. Not yet fully formed, but already taking on a life of its own, ready to spring from the mind, fully formed and ready to spread the wings of imagination.

What has triggered the Muse to life? I do not know, but I feel it growing, and wiggling and slowly but steadily worming its way out to the light.

What is it about? I have an idea, but do not wish to state its intent until it is ready to burst forth onto the scene.

Until then, I feel the Muse awakening. Life is forming, growing and taking shape. It tickles the fingers as they dance across the keyboard. Fingers that once held a pencil that traveled over snow white paper covered in red and blue lines......

It comes, not as a thief in the night, but as a whirlwind, blowing the cobwebs away and bringing light into the dark.

Yes, I feel the Muse a tickle, tickle, tickling.....