I am an octogenarian who has taken up writing in late life. I started writing short stories in a group in Second Life in July 2010 and found that i enjoyed it. my name there is Lillian Morpork, as you will notice in the links to Ozlandbard. I have one son, five grandchildren and thirteen great grandchildren.
My holiday with Andrew was scheduled from Sept. 25 to Oct. 2 2010, and this time, we thought we had Murphy foiled. First, since my niece Beth is a secret shopper, she offered to get a job in the Dunnville area, and drive me there. Then, when I was talking to my nephew Mike, he said they could easily bring me home again at the end of the visit.
But Beth wasn’t able to get a job for the Saturday in September, but did get one for the following Saturday, October 2nd. So the plans were changed, and Mike agreed to take me to Dunnville, and Beth would look after the return trip. Since she was doing a secret shopping job on services at a hotel, she took her daughter Mandy, and four year old grandson Robby with her. They apparently had a great time, and went to African Lion Safari before coming to Dunnville
My visit went well, Andrew had been granted control of his own money, and had opened a bank account. I gave him fifty dollars, and he wanted to deposit it, so we went downtown to the TD bank. He can walk, but not far, as it tires him out very quickly. So we took a manual wheelchair, and I pushed him. The sidewalks in Dunnville seem to have many little hills in them, so it was push hard up, hold back some going down, all the way; and then the same going back to Edgewater. By the time we got back, I was exhausted, and had a very sore area in my lower back, on the right side. I think I had pulled a muscle, as it took a week or more to heal.
As I had understood the arrangements, when Beth and co came to get me, they would pick up something Mandy could eat, and then come on and join us for dinner. But time went by, and we waited, until at last they arrived, at 7 p.m. We had finally ordered dinner and were just finished, so we went off to show them Andrew’s room. Then we headed out, picking up my luggage on the way, and were away by eight or so. Rob had my keys, so we had to go to his place in St. Catharines before heading to Toronto. And that’s when Murphy had a field day.
St. Catharines is not an easy city to find your way around in, so we went around in circles for a while. And to make matters worse, though I had a little phone/address book in my purse, I didn’t have Rob’s address or phone number. Mandy was driving, and we stopped at various places trying to get directions to Vine Street. I knew at least that much of the address. But no one seemed to even know there was a Vine Street, and the one person who did, couldn’t give us directions. Robby was getting tired and stared crying, and saying “Mommy, I need a hug.” Mandy kept trying to soothe him, and after a while, he settled down and fell asleep. Then Beth got the bright idea – why not call the operator and get the phone number from her? Great idea – the operator not only got the number, she connected Beth to Rob, he gave the directions, and we were soon there.
We stopped there for a while, long enough for everyone to stretch their legs and have a drink, and for Robby to give an animated account of his visit to the safari, which was very funny and entertained everyone. About an hour later, we were on our way again, and by about ten thirty, I was home. I do hope we can do a better job of foiling Murphy next year. I am getting extremely tired of his interference!
I sat in the sling chair and let my eyes wonder around the room. I was in a hut, in a jungle village, the only white person here, or as far as I knew, the only one within a thousand miles. And I was stuck here for the foreseeable future.
I was a member of an exploration group. We had come because Dr. Savage had heard rumours of a tribe who were almost never seen, living in the most primitive manner deep in the mostly impenetrable jungle. Their village was situated part way up a mountain, in a hidden valley, and the only way in was by boat, by a river that was almost impossible to navigate. That was why no one had ever visited them. No explorers had deemed it possible for boats to ascend that river, particularly because there were very rough rapids about half a mile up, and they extended for two or more miles of very steep going. Much steeper, and they would have been a series of water falls.
As it was, just as we finally reached the end of the rapids, I had fallen from the boat, and was swept down river. I hit several rocks on the way, and my left leg was broken in two places. I was rescued only because I had managed to get a firm grip on a large rock, and pull myself partly up on it. Even then, it was touch and go, as they had to keep the boat by the rock, fighting the strong current, and in pulling me in almost swamped it. So now, I sat in a primitive hut in a primitive village, waiting for them to come back for me. If they could.
The hut was, surprisingly, fairly clean, and the air was fresh touched with the scent of the big purple blossoms on the trees outside. My eyes rested on the raised platform, where a boy, 13 year old Bnocru, lay. He was the only son of Gnogru, the chief, and had been bitten by a poisonous spider the day before. Scrabti, the Shaman, had been in and out ever since, dancing and chanting, shaking rattles and burning some kind of bark and herbs. I knew he was worried. No one had ever survived such a bite, and the boy was failing fast. I had tried to get him to let me give him a dose of the antivenom medication we all carried for just such an emergency. However, he refused. He didn’t like or trust me, or any who had come with me. But that boy would die, in agony, if something wasn’t done soon.
The one thing he would allow me to do was sponge the boy’s body and face with cool water, and try to get him to drink some. I had been faithfully acting nurse, waiting my chance. Now I could act. The shaman had told me the last time he left that he was going to ‘commune with the spirits’ in hope of a healing. I knew that meant he would be in a drug induced stupor for at least a couple of hours. Taking the stick I’d been given to help me walk, I went to the door and looked out. No sign of the chief or the shaman, only the women at their work. Good.
I went back to my seat, and dug into my backpack. I took out my first aid kit, and found the antivenom capsules. First dose, two capsules, followed in six hours by another. I didn’t think I could get the capsules into him, as he was only swallowing small amounts at a time. I got the drinking vessel, filled it about half full, broke open the capsules and emptied them into it. I had to use my finger to stir it, but it was soon all dissolved. The boy was getting restless again, and that meant I could get him to drink.
It took me a good ten minutes to get all of the water into him. When that was accomplished, I felt better. He was still restless, and hot with fever, so I went to work with the cloth and cool water. How I wished for some ice! Really cold water would have lowered the fever so much better. By the time I was finished, Bnocru was quiet again, and soon fell into a deep sleep. This was the first time he had really slept, so I knew the medication was working.
Unfortunately, Scrabti would take all the credit for the healing, if my treatment worked. And the next person to suffer the bite would, like all the others, die, since he knew nothing of what I had done. At the moment, my only thought had been to heal Bnocru, but now I was thinking of the future. I was still standing by the sleeping platform, balanced on the stick, thinking deeply while I monitored the boy. His pulse rate had slowed, and I thought his temperature was down some. It was at this moment that his mother, Mlunga, came in with my midday meal.
She looked anxiously at her son, and then at me. I knew she wanted to know how he was, but we couldn’t converse. I smiled the happiest smile I could call up, touched his head, and nodded. She gazed at me for a moment, the putting the food down, came over. She touched Bnocru’s head, and looked up at me, questioningly. I nodded again, and tears filled her eyes. In pantomime, she asked if it was the shaman’s magic that was working, and in that instant, I put my life in her hands. I shook my head, and showed her the capsules. I mimed breaking two open, adding the powder to water, and getting Bnocru to drink all of it. She grasped my hands and kissed them, then put them to her forehead. With one last look up into my face, she put a hand to her heart, then moved it, cupped as if holding something, and place it to my chest. I knew she was thanking me. I bowed to her, and smiled. She turned quickly, and left.
I settled down to eat the food she had brought, and wondered what would happen next. Would she tell Gnogru? If she did, how would he take it? Would he have me killed for using foreign magic on his son, or would he in turn thank me for saving his heir’s life? There was nothing I could do, either way, so I took my own medication and settled down on the mat that was my bed while I waited for the pain in my leg to subside.
I must have fallen asleep, for the next thing I knew, the light of sunset was brightening the door, and there were loud voices right beside me. When I opened my eyes, I saw Scrabti, Gnogru and Mlunga, standing beside the sleeping platform. I looked at Bnocru, and he was awake, and looked a lot better. Then the shaman grabbed my arm, and tried to pull me off my mat. The chief stopped him, and with gestures, asked me to sit up.
There followed a long period of gestures, questions for me, my answers, and the demand to see the capsules. I showed them, and the shaman made a grab at them. I was fast enough to keep him from taking them. I knew he would destroy them. He was angry, angrier than I had ever seen anyone in my whole life. Gnogru intervened, and said something that brought Scrabti to a stiff halt, indignation in every bone of his body.
He went into an impassioned speech, stabbing at his own chest, at the chief’s, and at Broncru. Even though I couldn’t understand the language, I could those vehement gestures. He had served the chief and the tribe all of his life. How could the chief think he didn’t want the boy to live? Gnogru responded, his gestures saying that he knew how devoted the shaman was. But then why was he so angry that this stranger’s magic had done what they all knew to be impossible? Bnocru lived, was healing, the stranger’s magic was stronger. Should they not all rejoice that the Gods had sent this man at just this time? When his magic was so needed? Scrabti deflated, and stood with shoulders drooping. That was not good, he needed his confidence, the tribe needed his skills. And they were not without merit.
I reached out and touched the chief’s arm. When he turned to me, I managed, with gestures and the few words I had picked up, to tell him that Scrabti could learn to use this same medicine. It came from a plant that grew in abundance in the jungle around. I could show him how to prepare it, if he would let me.
And so it was that when Dr. Savage and the others arrived the next morning, Broncru was sitting up and eating, Scrabti and I were hunched over a stone bowl with a short knobbed stick, crushing leaves of the Spiderbane plant. The whole story was told over lunch, and Dr. Savage gave Scrabti two bottles of the capsules. She was also able to give him more directions on the drying and preparation of the plant. And Scrabti, and the whole tribe, accepted the strange white men as friends. And me? I was a hero. Unbelievable
This is an excerpt from my Fantasy book end of chapter 7 beginning of chapter 8.
‘Up and at them,’ Janalyn cried. ‘Get those gourds flying, aiming for the base of the overhanging ice, and as far up the slope behind the giants as you can get them. Krystabel, Bristynn, Penipol, we must start sending the fireballs over. The giants are hard to see, but if you watch for movement, you should be able to hit them. Archers, ready your fire arrows and fire when ready, aiming at the overhang, the slope, and the giants. And, everyone, be careful not to expose yourselves too much. The shards of the icicles and snow boulders can do serious damage. May all the good spirits be with us, and steady our hands.’
With that the battle started in earnest. Soon fire was flying one way across the pass, while giant icicles and snow boulders were flying the other. Krystabel had never used magic so intensely, or so constantly, so she lost all track of what was happening around her in her deep concentration. She knew that she had hit one of the largest giants twice, because the eagles kept her informed. She was faintly aware of cries of pain, when someone was struck by flying shards, but it barely registered in her mind.
Time went by, fire and ice flying through the air, and the sun appeared over the mountain at their back. They could clearly see the damage to the snow-pack on the other side, and the Frost Giants were more apparent with the sun glittering off them as they moved. On the battle went, Janeldra and Tineslinn moving quickly to get the wounded into the shelter where they could be cared for.
‘One of the largest giants is seriously wounded, and is standing near the edge of the overhang’ Krystabel informed Janalyn. ‘The eagles tell me that the surface of the ice pack behind the giants is starting to melt and move down towards the drop-off. They can see the smaller giants starting to edge around the soft area, heading up a path around the peak. One of the larger giants is trying to get to the injured one, who is waving him off. …. Oh, there goes the overhanging ice, and a whole section of the ice-pack is moving more rapidly now.’
Everyone withheld their weapons, and watched as the huge overhang broke off, and fell to shatter in the pass. With it went the injured giant, barely seen, to crash and shatter, too. Then the moving avalanche of frozen snow-pack reached the edge of the cliff and followed, filling the pass to a depth of several feet. For moments, the watchers stared, shocked at the sudden end to the battle. Then Janalyn stirred.
‘Everyone! Send all the gourds, as many fireballs as you can manage, and the rest of the fire arrows down into that blockage. We must melt it, and clear the way so we can continue on. It will make a formidable flood, but fortunately, most of the water will spill over the cliff where the road makes that sharp bend, and only a few trees will be damaged. The camp is high enough to be safe, I hope.’
They bombarded the huge pile of shattered ice and snow, and eventually it started melting and pouring away down the road. The noise, even from their height, was almost deafening. Then all the fire weapons were used, and they sat and watched the huge wave of water and chunks of ice as it thundered away and out of sight, but not out of hearing.
“Hey, Sheriff! Ed’s dead!” Cassidy raced into the jail house yelling, almost bowling Sheriff Armstrong over. Armstrong grabbed Cassidy by a shoulder to slow him down, and to keep his own balance.
“Where? And when?” he asked. “And do try to calm down. You are totally incoherent when you get over-excited.” He spoke slowly and quietly, still keeping a hand on Cassidy’s shoulder.
“Sorry, Jim,” Cassidy took a deep breath. “Just now, at Morgan’s.”
Armstrong strapped on his gun belt, grabbed his hat, and went striding out the door. Cassidy had to run to catch up.
“It was Big Bart, Jim,” he said.
“Oh? Ok, how many were there, Cas”? I’ll need to talk to them all.”
“Well…uh…there were about ten, but when Bart and his boys showed up, they slipped out quick and quiet like.”
“Cut! Cut!” another voice shouted.
Cassidy and Armstrong stopped and turned. “Ok, Steve, what’s wrong this time?” Armstrong asked.
“The whole damned thing, that’s what!” Steve growled. “This is the worst script it has been my misfortune to have to try to direct – ever!”
“Well, yeh, but then why did you agree to do it?” Cassidy asked.
“It’s like this. Mr. Lastor has always been very generous in backing great plays for me. Now he is insisting on this one, because his wife wrote it. He doesn’t want to upset her.”
“Does he have any idea how bad it is? No matter how hard we try, it’s not even going to make the B list. More likely the F list – for flop!” Armstrong said
“I think he knows, he’s just afraid to tell her. Ever met her? She is one forceful, determined woman!” Steve grinned.
Armstrong, aka Tom Simmons, one of the top leading men in Hollywood, sighed and sat down on the edge of the stage. “Yeah,” he said. “I had that dubious honour.” He sighed.
“That bad, huh?” said Cassidy. His real name was Clarence ‘Clancy’ Hoolihan. “You know, every time I have to say one of those lines, I have a real fight just to keep from breaking up.” He stood and stared at the other two.
Steve stared at Clancy for a moment. “Clancy!” he exclaimed. “You’ve got it!” He started pacing, getting more excited and positive as he went on.
“Huh?” grunted Clancy.
“A comedy! Make it a real farce! Ham it up for all you’re worth.” Steve went on excitedly.
Tom’s head slowly came up, he looked at Steve, then at Clancy, as big grins gradually spread over three faces.
“Right, Steve,” he said. “The script says Cassidy is clumsy.” He turned to Clancy. “When you rush in, instead of me staying up, we both go down. You stumble when you’re trying to get up, and knock me back down again…”
There was a moment of silence, then all three broke into roars of laughter and shook hands.
Six months later, the three left the stage. It was opening night. The crowd had roared with laughter. There had been three standing ovations, and three encores. It had turned into the funniest musical comedy in a decade.
As they walked to the Star’s dressing rooms, Steve said “Tom, your idea to add music and dancing really put the show over the top! Great job, guys.”
“Yup,” Clancy said, grinning. “Most fun I’ve had on the job in years. Hmmm .. Wonder what Mrs. L thought?” They looked at each other, shuddered, and broke up again.
“Well, never mind,” Steve said. “We won’t have to face her. And ‘Ed’s Dead at Morgan’s Saloon’ is a smash hit, and we’re all winners.” They walked on, smiling.
The young woman slipped out of the shadows by the saloon and approached the Stage Coach driver. “Sir, I have my ticket, sorry I am so late.” she said softly.
He had just finished loading passengers and luggage, and was about to mount to the box, so he turned angrily at her voice. Taking in the slender body loaded down with luggage and baby, his face softened.
“Ok, Ma’am. Just leave the luggage here and get in and settle yourself. There is plenty of room. I’ll tend to your things.” He tipped his hat and opened the coach door.
Leaving all but one bag on the ground, she climbed in and settled herself in a corner. There were only two other passengers, officials of the railway line who had been looking over the area. The railway company was going to extend the line through the town and on Westward. In a few years, this Coach, from Morganstown to Tucson would be retired.
They said nothing, just tipped their hats, tight lipped as they contemplated a long trip with an infant. A short time later the coach started, and soon they were travelling along at good clip. There was not much light as night closed in, the moon being in the earliest crescent phase.
She sat looking out the window, seeing nothing with her eyes, only that last scene in Morgan’s saloon. She still felt shaken, still heard the report of the gun, muffled though it was between their bodies. Why couldn’t he have left her alone? No one in that bigoted, judgmental town had ever believed her. She had come to teach, but instead she was condemned as a whore, a slut – because she had a child and no husband in evidence. She had shown the Preacher and the school board her marriage certificate, and the death certificate for her husband, and they had scoffed and brushed them off as forgeries. Any enterprising whore could provide herself with the like, they said. She should have been wary when the advertisement for the teaching job said ‘four-square Gospel Christian preferred.’
Still, she had tried to make a home for herself and Jamie there. She had no where else to go, she had used almost all of her money getting there, expecting a job and salary. She had scrimped and saved, doing sewing, housecleaning for the women who practically spit on her if they met her on the street. And all the time fighting off the oh, so holy men of the town. Now she had enough for the Stage Coach fare to Tucson, thanks to a gift from her in-laws. They had tracked her down, and begged her to come to them. They wanted to help her and their grandson. If only the Stage had come in earlier, then nothing terrible would have happened. She sighed.
I didn’t mean to kill him, I just wanted him to leave me alone. But no, he grabbed me, held a gun to little Jamie’s head, threatening him if I didn’t ‘put the kid down and give out’. I put Jamie down on the floor, and as I was straitening up, he jumped me. We both fell and I fought, as hard as I could, using teeth and nails. He still held the gun, and somehow it got between us. I got my hand on it, and pressed his finger on the trigger. He jerked, and his arms fell away from me.
When I stood up, the blood was running from his chest. He moaned once, tried to turn his head, and stopped breathing. Now Ed Stanley is dead and I am a murderess. Maybe, when I get to Tucson, I should go to the Sheriff and tell him what happened. But not until I make sure Jamie will be all right with Will’s family.
The tiring journey went on, the coach stopping before midnight at a small way station. The passengers were given food and a place to rest. She was able to change and clean Jamie, and even got some sleep. Then they were on the way again just as the sun was rising.
Three days later they were in Tucson and a neatly dressed black man approached. “Excuse me, Ma’am, are you Mrs. William Clarkson? I’m George, driver for Mr. William Henry Clarkson, and they sent me to bring you home.” He tipped his hat and smiled.
“Oh!” AnnaBeth said. “Yes, I am. I didn’t expect to be picked up, thank you.”
“Fine, Missy, just you rest here and I will gather your luggage.” smiling again he pointed to a bench. She agreed, described her luggage, and settled down to wait. It was not long before he was back pulling a cart with all her bags on it. “Come along now, Missy, the carriage is just outside.”
She got up and followed, and was amazed when she saw the splendid coach, shiny black and pulled by a matched set of greys. There was an insignia painted on the door, WGC, in red and gold. OH! She thought. I didn’t know Will’s family were rich! Oh, dear, how will I ever fit in? Ah, but I won’t, not if I tell them about Ed. At laest I’ll know my Jamie will be well cared for and educated.
“In you get, Missy, I’ll just stow your bags and we’ll be off. You don’t have anything more to worry about, now.” He helped her up the steps, folded them away, and very soon after climbed up to the driver’s box, clicked to the horses, and they were off.
Less than half an hour later they drove up a long, winding drive to stop before a beautiful mansion. Standing on the steps were an older couple, undoubtedly Will’s parents, smiling and holding out their hands.
Once they had each had a chance to cuddle Jamie, he was sent off with a nursemaid, and they sat down to a sumptuous meal. She felt she had to tell them about the killing, it was not a thing she could hide. They listened quietly, William asking an occasional question. There was silence for a few minutes after she was done.
“I thought I should tell a sheriff about it,” she said.
“No, my dear, you are not a murderess.” William said. “I am an attorney, and know the law. You had no intention to kill, you were just protecting yourself and your son. And he was the one who drew a gun. I know the governor of Oklahoma, and he will have that town investigated. The only demand they can make on a religious basis is that the person be Christian. And they can not refuse to accept valid evidence of anyone’s marital status. Forget that place, and Ed Stanley. You and Jamie are safe here, now. And we are so happy to have you. We lost a son, but now we have gained a daughter and a grandson. You and Jamie are a true blessing to us, and will fill a big hole in our lives and hearts. Please look on us as your new parents, and let us love and help both of you.”
“Do you really think I should just forget Ed? I’d like to forget him and that whole terrible town. Thank you so much. It would be so good to have a real home, and a family again.” Her strained face eased, as she smiled and felt the tension drain out of her tired body. Maybe all would be well, and she and Jamie could have the future Will had planned for them. With that thought, she was at last able to relax, and look forward to a good future.
inspired by picture of a little girl gathering shells by the sea
“SEVEN YEAR OLD CANADIAN GIRL MISSING!”
Daughter of Canada’s richest man vanished while playing on private Florida beach.
So the headlines had screamed that day twelve years ago. Now, retired police detective Rob o’ Suilleabhain and P.I. Mike Matthews, also retired, were revisiting the scene. For years they had examined and re-examined every bit of evidence to see if they had mossed anything. That evidence was scarce, mostly the statements of the few who had noticed the little girl playing at the edge of the water. Hannah Aliza Johnstone was a graceful, cheerful child, a joy to behold. All that the evidence had ever told them was that one moment she was there, and the next she had disappeared. No footprints anywhere, except the ones she had made as she approached that one point on the shore, then nothing. Not one single sight or sound of her. No bits of hair, or clothing; no scattered shells and stones from the collection she had been making.
“I still feel that we missed something,” Rob said, “but I’m damned if I can figure out what. It’s as though she just disappeared into thin air. And that is impossible!” he scowled at the sand beneath his feet.
“I know. I feel the same. I’ve thought and thought about it, and nothing comes to mind. How could anyone….” Mike stopped suddenly, staring ahead toward where the child had disappeared. He had been looking at that spot as he walked, and now he couldn’t believe his eyes.
“What?” Rob said, following Mike’s gaze. Then he stared, mouth agape. They had both stopped moving, frozen in disbelief. Right there, the spot that was impressed indelibly on both minds stood a young woman. “Who’s that, and where’d she come from?” he asked. After a brief pause, both men started walking toward her. She looked at them, took a hesitant step forward, and stopped, looking confused and wary.
When they were closer, Rob said “Hello, young lady. Are you all right?”
She looked from one to the other then said “I think so. I…I feel strange. I should know this place, but…..” her voice trailed off, and she shook her head. Rob and Mike slowly walked closer, until they were within touching distance; neither tried to touch her, though. They could see the confusion and fear in her eyes.
“What is your name?” Mike asked softly.
“I…I’m….Hannah Aliza Johnstone?” her voice rose in a question, and she looked at them, almost pleading with them to confirm this for her.
“All right, Miss” Rob said. “What can you tell us about yourself? How did you get here? There are no footsteps in the sand leading to where you are standing, and you seemed to appear out of nowhere. Since that has to be impossible, there must be another explanation.”
“I was….I was playing in the waves, picking up pretty shells and stones, and I saw a big bubble on the water. It made me think of The Wizard of Oz. You know, when Glenda appears.” She looked startled, and murmured “where did that come from?”
“Yes, there was a child who did that, twelve years ago.” Mike said. “What else do you remember?”
“Nothing, after the big bubble came. I was in it, and there were two people there, a man and a woman. But they weren’t human. They looked human, but more….more….like, all angles, not rounded. I remember being terrified, and then she touched me, and I felt calm, and went to sleep. When I woke up, I was in a beautiful house. There was a lovely garden outside, and other children, boys and girls, all about my age. They were all colours, some of them children of the people who had taken me – and, I guess, the others.
“We were well cared for, well fed, and had regular classes, and we all grew up. Then they said we would go back to our world, and share the knowledge we had with those who could use it best. But I don’t know what knowledge I have, or who to give it to.” She shook her head, and her shoulders slumped in dejection. “Do you know? And what about my family? I know I have a father and mother somewhere. I do, don’t I?” She looked anxiously from one to the other.
“Yes, you have parents, who have never given up hope of getting you back. We will take you to them, and report your return to the government authorities. They will come and talk to you, and maybe they can figure out who you should talk to.” They all headed back along the beach to the car park. An hour later, they were at the Johnstone estate, and had witnessed the incredulous, joyful, reunion. Then an RCMP Lieutenant, and agents from the FBI and CIA arrived, and the questions started.
In the end, Hannah realized that she had a great deal of medical information. Treatments for things that were at that point untreatable; like curing all kinds of cancer, and ending arthritis, and almost anything humans are prone to. Suddenly she wanted to sing. Everything came back to her – her life before she was taken, the life with the aliens, all of it. She knew the names of the other human children, and what each one had been given.
“I know,” she cried. “I know it all. Robert Barnside, nuclear physics, way beyond what earth scientists know. Shelly Martin, cloning and stem cell research to cure birth defects in the first days and weeks after conception. I remember all of it, everything, and everyone. They are benevolent, and want only the best for us.”
They all stared at her; her Mom and Dad, Rob and Mike, the FBI and CIA agents, staring and silent. Then a large, clear, iridescent bubble materialized in the middle of the room and settled on the floor. Then it was gone, and a man and woman stood there. She was tall, blond and angular; he was shorter, dark and just as angular. They were both smiling.
“We are from the Andromeda Galaxy. We travel the universe, and when we find a planet where they are in the first stages of space travel, we explore the place. Whenever we find things that they are unable to fix, we borrow some of their brightest children, and teach them all that we can. That way, when they finally are capable of leaving their home system, they will be cured of all diseases. And all mental aberrations that cause so much hatred and suffering, are gone. The universe is big, and we are its guardians. We are making sure that there will be no strife, anywhere. We have a long way to go yet, but, with the help of those we have taught, the task gets smaller. Welcome to the Universe.”
There was a stunned silence, then an outburst of questions and comments. Androsynna and Zyromeda answered the questions for a while, but at last suggested that all the world leaders be called together. They could then explain to everyone at the same time, and see that the returned children were placed where their knowledge could be best used.
In time, after many different seminars all around the world, that new knowledge was being put to use. Humanity at last became one, with everyone working toward the same goals. And starships were being built so that the more mature Earthlings could take their first large steps outward. In time the Universe would be theirs, shared with the other intelligences they had not yet met.
Written for Andrew and Scott after their meeting with Murphy Sat. 08/01/15
How dare you, Murphy! You contemptible, villainous trickster! It’s bad enough that you have to pick on me constantly; now you are picking on my grandson and his friend? I know you love to discombobulate people; I have experienced your evil ways too many times. But this is too much!
First, you made them wait for three hours for a bus home, sitting around the bus station from nine pm to eleven pm? And when they went for a break and drink, you messed up the chocolate chill that was meant to soothe their feelings; that was just plain reprehensible! And to cap it all, you arranged for them to be locked out of their home when they got there a 1:30 in the morning! You were foiled on that, though. Their friend was home and let them in.
You inveterate, pernicious, obnoxious blackguard! You knave! To perdition with you; you are an anathema to all, and I call on all the Irish saints to send you to the bode of Old Nick: St. Patrick with your staff, St. Bridgit with your veil, Saint Martin with your mantle and Saint Michael with your shield, send this reprehensible blackguard to the nether world, there to consort with Satan for eternity, and free us from his evil ways. Amen.
It was July, 2011, and time for my annual visit with Andrew. This time I was going to go On Monday July 25th and come home again on Monday, August 1st. Rob had been staying with me pretty much full time, as the commute from St. Catharines was just too costly, so we had talked about it. He made arrangements with is friend Joe. Joe would rent a car over the weekend and they would take me to Dunnville, and then he’d rent again the following weekend to come and take me home again. Great! That should foil Murphy! I thought.
All went well for the trip there, and we arrived on time, with no problem. Rob and Joe stopped long enough to say hi to Andrew, then they went off to find a MacDonald’s for a drink and a break before driving back to Toronto. I got unpacked, and Andrew and I talked and talked. We had dinner together then went back to his room where I sat and watched him play games. And we talked some more.
Since my birthday was on the 5th of August, I had taken a gift I had received in the mail, so he could participate in the day by seeing me open it. Much to my surprise, almost before I had settled down after Rob and Joe left, he was picking up a gift bag with his toes, and giving it to me. He had been able to buy me a gift, too. He is so happy now that he controls his own finances, and was very proud that he was able, at last, to give me a gift. I opened it and found three very lovely wall plaques. I still have to find a place to hang them.
He needed to go to the bank again, so we took the wheelchair and headed out. Only this time, I only had to give him a boost going up those little hills. He walked the chair all the way, while I walked beside him, and, of course, we talked. When we were finished with the bank, I was hot and tired, so we went to a little restaurant a few doors away and had iced tea, and a rest. Then we headed back, no worse for wear.
We spent a lot of time in his room, while he played games and I watched, fascinated by the action, and the realistic graphics. It was a good visit, with only one problem. It was cold! The first night I had to get up and search around. I found a couple of extra blankets, but it still wasn’t enough, so the next day I told one of the girls, and she gave me a quilt. After that, I slept well, all snuggly and warm. But during the day it was a different matter.
Andrew goes to Men’s Prayer Breakfast at his church on Wednesday mornings, so I was on my own until lunch time. The weather was very warm and sunny, so I went outside to sit in the shade and get warm. I found Sid, one of the residents that I had come to know already out there so we sat and chatted. I told him how cold I’d been, and he was quite concerned. “If you would like, when we go in, I’ll lend you a sweater. You can give it to me, or leave it in my room when you go.” He said. I told him I would really appreciate it, and he loaned me a hooded jacket. With that, I was warm and comfortable for the rest of my stay. After I came home, I bought a silly thank you card and sent it to him, to let him know how much I appreciated his kindness.
The rest of the visit went well, we went to church on the Sunday, as we always do, and otherwise spent the time in his room, chatting and laughing. On the Friday, Andrew wanted to go out for dinner – as a sort of birthday celebration. So we found out about Squires restaurant, about a block and a half away, and went there. It was a nice outing, easy to get to, and very good food. They had a working nickelodeon that plays CDs, and it fascinated Andrew. He’s seen them in the virtual world, but never in real life. It was a pleasant break from the dining room at Edgewater, though the food there is good.
When Andrew checked his email after we got back, there was a message from Rob. Joe was not able to rent a car, because August 1st was a holiday, and only the most expensive rentals were left. He gave me two choices. Stay over another night, and Joe would rent a car and pick me up, without Rob, who would be working. Or, if John and Marilyn could come to the rescue again, have them drive me to the Burlington, Go station. Rob would come by Go bus from St. Catharines, and we could go on together from there.
John and Marilyn were willing, as Marilyn’s sister was in hospital in Burlington, so she could visit her while John took me on to the station. They decided to take Andrew along, so he would have that much more time with me, and see me off. But Murphy wasn’t finished. Rob was to arrive on the 4:45 bus. It arrived, five minutes late and packed. Everyone got off, and there was no Rob! We wondered what was going to happen, and John said maybe there would be another bus for those passengers who hadn’t been able to come on that one. However, they had to leave, as Marilyn was waiting for them. So we said goodbye, and they went off, and I continued to wait, and stew. I had bought my ticket, so if I had to, I could take the 6:10 train and get home on my own. It would be a bit of a chore, getting the suitcase on and off, but if I had to, I could do it. And I have noticed that there are a lot of nice people around who are willing to help an older woman.
I sat and chatted a bit with another woman who was waiting for the train. Then a bus came in with ‘out of service’ on the front. But as it pulled in, I saw Rob through a window. He was here at last, and we still had time for the train. He came rushing in and said ‘that bus is going to Toronto, we can take it. Come on.’ He grabbed the suitcase, we went out, and soon we were on our way. There was no more trouble after that. We were more than half way home by the time the train was leaving Burlington, and it was a smooth, comfortable ride.
Once we were in Union Station, I suggested getting something to eat there, so we wouldn’t have to bother when we got home. We did that, and I decided to take a cab home, as I was getting pretty tired. So, although Murphy managed to mess things up a bit, all in all the trip was a success. And I had a great birthday.
On the Sunday after my birthday, Beth and Dave took me to an Irish pub for Brunch. When I saw the name of the pub, I laughed till my sides ached and my eyes teared. It was Murphy’s Law! It’s a very nice, place with good service and good food. A great way to end another happy visit.
this was inspired by a picture, black background, two colourful eyelashes with tear drops
All of the insects, birds and small creatures in the forest were hurrying to find shelter. They knew that a big storm was coming, and it would be very dangerous for small things to be out in it. The two furry caterpillars, Tic and Tac, were slowly working their way along the branch of a Jimson weed, trying their best to hurry. But they had been nibbling at the plant as they went, and it was great! They were having a grand time.
First, they were on a plant with white flowers, and it didn’t really taste all that good, but it made them feel relaxed and calm. They moved on to another plant, this one had light purple flowers. Still didn’t taste great, but Wow! They felt wonderful.
“Hey, Tac!” Tic cried. “look at that beeootiful catypilah! Ain’t she a knockout?”
Tac looked around, confused. “I don’t see no catypilah – you dunce, it’s a rainbow flutter…a….butterfly!”
“Really, that’s what you see? How odd. “
They moved on, the storm forgotten. Then they were on a plant with deep purple flowers. It tasted worse than the others, and they stopped moving for a while. The wind had picked up, and the branch they were on was moving up, down and sideways, and they were getting very dizzy.
“Uh, Tac,“ Tic mumbled, “I don’t feel too good. I’m dizzy, and I think I’m going to throw up!”
“Yeah, Tic, me too,”
Tic started to move, and his back end fell off the branch. “Oh, help!” he cried, and clung on for dear life. Tac tried to go and help him, but he couldn’t move in a straight line either, and his front end slipped off. He screamed, and started to cry. They hung like that for a few moments, then he made a great effort, and managed to get his front legs on the branch again. “Hold on, Tic, I’m coming,” he called, and very carefully moved toward his friend.
Just then, it started to rain, and in moments it was like a cataract of water. The wind rose, so that the rain was almost horizontal, and Tic lost his grip and fell. Tac stared for a moment at the empty spot. Where was Tic?
“Hey, Tic,” he said, “how’d you do that? You disappeared into thin air!” A voice called from below “Wow, Tac, you should try that – I flew like a bird! The landing wasn’t so good though.”
Tac humped forward a bit, and peered drunkenly over the branch. There, on a toadstool surrounded by water, was Tic, staring up, trying to focus on the branch. With the effects of the Jimson weed, the strong wind moving the branch, and the rain teeming down, neither could see the other clearly. Tac moved a little farther forward just as the branch bounced in a strong gust and he fell off. Next thing he knew, he was sitting beside Tic on the toadstool. But it didn’t last. The rain was making the rounded top of the toadstool very slippery, and they had nothing to grab on to. They began to slide, slowly at first, then faster and faster, until they went off the edge and landed with a splash in the puddle.
Caterpillars don’t do well in puddles, even when they are sober. And Tic and Tac were far from sober, even after the fall, and landing in the cold water. They started trying to crawl forward, but to do so, they had to put their heads down. This put their heads partly under water, and made it even harder to move. They stopped, raised their heads, and started yelling.
“Help, help!” they shouted as loudly as they could, for as long as they could, but soon were too tired to continue. Tac had an idea. “Let’s try taking turns shouting. I’ll go first, and shout as long as I can. Then, while I rest, you shout. We can keep shouting a lot longer that way.” And so they did, while getting colder and colder, and soberer and soberer. It seemed to take forever, but wasn’t more than half an hour when two fairies is special wet weather gear came, flying not too far away. They were having a bit of trouble keeping to the direction they wanted to go, because of the wind, but the storm was dying out, so when they heard Tac shouting, they were able to fly to the scene of the accident.
The storm had almost died out, and the fairies had no trouble landing beside the puddle. “Oh, my!” Bluebell cried. “You poor things, however did you get down here?” She started laughing, and laughed so hard she almost fell into the puddle with them.
Tac looked embarrassed. “We were heading for shelter on those plants up there, and got a bit hungry. So we nibbled a bit. They didn’t taste too good, but they made us feel more relaxed. We went from plant to plant, nibbling a bit from each, till we were seeing things that weren’t there. The Tic suddenly disappeared, and when I looked for him he called from on the toadstool. I was moving so I could look down better, and the wind whipped the branch, and I fell, too. Then we started sliding, and couldn’t hold on, and – well, you can see where we ended up.”
“Ho ho ho!” Bluebell laughed again. “Don’t you know Jimson weed when you see it? It gives you hallucinations, and makes you drunk. And if you eat enough, it will kill you!”
“Oh – we didn’t know. Can you help us? This water is very cold.” Tac was very contrite.
“Never mind that, and this isn’t at all funny!” Buttercup scolded. “We need to get them out of the water quickly, and someplace where they can dry out. And yes,” she added. “We can help you. Come on, Bluebell, let’s take this one first, he’s deeper in the water. You take his head and I’ll take his tail. Got a good grip? Ok then, lift!” They lifted Tic and carried him up to a branch of a small sapling, not too high off the ground. Carefully, they attached his head and tail to the branch, and left him hanging there, swinging in the now calm breeze. In a very short time, both Tic and Tac were hanging on the branch, water dripping off them.The fairies flew off, heading home to their supper.
“Tac,” Tic whispered.
“Yes, Tic?”
“Remind me never to eat Jimson weed ever again!”
“I sure will!” Tac assured him. “I’ll remind myself too. I never want to go through something like that again.”
“Yeah,” Tic said. “But weren’t those hallucinations beautiful?” He sighed at the memory. Tac didn’t reply, but he thought of that beautiful rainbow butterfly, and sighed, too
