Dream Story.

                                                  I Refused

Why me.

Why have I been selected to venture into another time in my dreams.

To live through situations beyond my wildest dreams.

Well. In a movie way.

The pictures weave their way through my dreams with me the heroine of the hour.

I feel their pain.

Their sorrow.

Happiness.

Every action so real.

There I stood.

I don't know where.

I stood surrounded by people.

Did I know them.

No I didn't.

I didn't see their faces due to the brilliant light blocking out the view of their faces.

These unknown people showed their love for me. A love so strong I believed it caused the light.

Why me.

What had I done to deserve suck accolade from so many.

Had I saved them.

I didn't feel I had saved a life.

There was no expanding of the heart from pride of a job well done.

No tears either.

No feeling of loss on their behalf for a departed family member.

There hadn't been a fire where I had to rescue people by flying them to safety.

I wasn't exhausted.

So the dragons weren't chasing me on this adventure.

The dragons are sneaky.

They lay in wait for unsuspecting souls to wander past their hidden place in the darkness. The only warning they are near is the hot breath on the back. Or see the fiery red glow of their eyes in the darkness.

They hadn't invaded this picture.

Silence.

Glory.

Enchantment.

Waiting.

What were they waiting for.

The expectation hovered among the crowd.

I tried to moved toward the edge of them because I didn't feel worthy to stand among such love.

All my life I've stood alone fighting my own battles while lending a hand to those who needed assistance.

There was no escape.

Not one body moved to make a path for me.

Locked in by a sea of faceless people.

The energy radiating from them told me the expectation neared the end.

The time of arrival was nigh.

A chorus of voices broke the silence.

Awe radiated around me hitting me with waves of energy. Enough energy to light a city for days.

Slowly, I turned to face the direction from whence the energy came.

I couldn't see what all the fuss was about because of the glow.

Out of the glow walked a giant shadow. The shadow formed into a large built man.

The crowd parted like the waters of the Red Sea to let him reach his destination.

I knew he was there.

I felt his presence.

I had no vision of how he looked..

His hands clamped on my shoulders.

Energy flowed from his hands into my shoulders.

I felt his lips were headed for mine.

I dropped my head forward.

His burning lips left a fiery impression on my forehead.

A kiss which still burned when I woke.

I rebelled against the kiss he intended.

He left his mark on me.

For what reason I don't know.

Caught in Crossfire

“Ping. Ping,” echoed around Chris and Terry.

Bullets ricocheted from tree to tree.

“What the hell.” Terry searched the area to find who shot at them.

Chris slumped forward on the neck of Lightning moments after the bullet whizzed past Terry's ear.

She wrapped her arms around the horses neck to stop her falling out of the saddle.

Lightning shied before taking off at break-neck speed to reach safety.

“Bloody hell.” Terry kicked his heels into the side of his horse to try to catch Lightning before Chris was tossed to the ground.

Or be ripped from the saddle by a low tree branch.

“Chris. Hang on. I'm coming.”

The galloping hooves of Terry's horse beat in time with the fear pounding in Chris' heart.

Each beat echoed in her ears deafening her to the wild ride.

She closed her eyes tightly so she didn't see how fast the ground passed beneath Lightning.

Chris heard the faint call of Terry call to her.

She was lost in a world of fear and pain.

Lightning burst free from the cover of the trees to thunder over the grass paddock on his way home.

“No-o-o.” Terry watched in horror.

He didn't believe what his eyes saw.

“Don't do it, Lightning. Steady up, boy.”

With his heart trying to reach into his mouth Terry watched horse, and rider, sail over the top rail of the fence to the holding yard.

Darkness overcome Chris' body.

During the jump Chris' fingers slackened her grasp around the neck of Lightning.

Lightning propped to a stop sending Chris over his head to the ground.

Darkness completely took over her life.

He whinnied for help while he stood guard over her.

Terry jumped from the saddle of his exhausted horse.

Undid the chain around the gate.

He rushed the Chris' side.

Rolling her over on to her side Terry touched a wet patch on her shirt.

He lifted his hand to find it coated with blood.

“No-o-o. Chris.”

Terry lifted Chris into his arms to carry her toward the house.

“What happened, Terry,” asked one of the ranch hands.

“Chris has been shot. Call for an ambulance.”

Hours later, Chris opened her eyes in a strange, white wall, sterile room.

The smell of antiseptic tickled her nose.

She turned her head to find Terry asleep in an uncomfortable chair near the window. Early morning sunshine glistened through the window to send sparkles across the room.

“Terry.” Chris chocked past her dry throat.

Terry blinked.

He looked around the room.

Groaned.

He straightened his aching body from his night in the chair.

“Welcome back. How are you feeling?”

“What happened. Where am I. Ouch.”

“Lay still. You don't want to bust your stitches. Are you in pain. Will I call the nurse?”

Chris rested back against the pillows with a painful sigh.

“Did Lightning throw me?”

“You were shot.”

“Shot. Why can't they leave me alone.

“Who?”

“My family. They want my money.”

(I'd like to thank the owner of this photo in the use of decorating my work.)

Snakes of Greed

A rattle snakes strike has less venom than a greedy, vicious man deprived of a fortune.

Charlie was no exception to the rule.

Money was the love of his life, next to gambling.

He'd do anything to achieve his goal.

His creed was to become very rich.

To beat the casinos for all their cash so he'd be able to live the life of Ryan.

Laura played down her roll of heiress once she had escaped the gilded cage her family kept her protected in until the day she married the man of their choosing.

With help from a friend Laura escaped.

Changed her identity.

She had no plans to return to the strong bosom of her strict, demanding family.

Charlie, her promised husband, went berserk when he became aware his bride had scampered from his reach before he claimed her.

And the family fortune.

The family didn't know of the mistake they had made with their choice of husband material for their daughter.

Unfortunately for Laura Charlie tracked her to find her.

She lived on a horse ranch like a normal, every day woman.

Her cover blown.

Laura spied Charlie questioning some of the hands of her whereabouts.

Bounding on to the nearest saddled horse Laura grabbed the reins.

Climbed into the saddle.

Led the horse out of the yard.

Horse and rider glided over the fence to reach open country to escape.

The noon day sun blazed down on her.

Wind dried the tears of fear from her cheeks.

Horse and rider traveled as one to escape capture.

The pounding of fast approaching hooves rang out behind her.

She felt the angry stare from his eyes burning into her back.

Talking encouragement to the horse his feet took wings to carry them faster over the ground leaving Charlie eating their dust.

Lisa didn't watch what direction her horse took.

She clung to the reins and the mane.

With eyes closed she prayed either of them wouldn't be killed on the mad dash for freedom.

Charlie cursed.

He edged his horse to travel faster.

His horse seemed to be bogging in quick sand not gaining on their prey.

Charlie dug his booted heels into the ribs of the horse to make more speed.

The horse put his heart into the race.

All was lost.

He screamed his disappointment when Laura and her horse disappeared.

Charlie couldn't believe his eyes.

He slowed his mount to a trot.

He searched everywhere.

Laura and horse had vanished.

Charlie followed the hoof prints to a certain point.

Nothing.

Not a leaf had been disturbed.

Laura felt the ground give beneath them.

She held her breath.

Thinking this was the end of her life she waited for the fall.

She envisaged broken necks for the both of them.

Horse and rider had passed through to another world.

In this world grew a rainbow of flowers.

Trees.

Beautiful butterflies.

A lovely waterfall.

Clean fragrant clean air.

They were safe.

Wild Horse

“Lisa. Don't go near that wild horse.”

“He's so beautiful. The most magnificent beast I have every set my eyes on.” Lisa opened the gate leading to the break-in yard. So far no one had been able to catch the stallion.

He put the fear of god into everyone who tried to come into the yard with him.

“I'll teach him who is boss. Tubby will realize who is his superior. He will...”

“What. You gave the horse my nickname.”

“Remember how wild you used to be. The trouble you caused the family. All the grey hairs you gave each of our parents.”

“Thanks a lot, Sis. Best of luck with this tubby. I don't think you'll win him around.” Toby watched Lisa walk through the gate then turned to latch the gate behind her. Toby ordered one of his work hands to go to the stable to collect his rifle.

Lisa turned on shaking legs to face danger in the face.

She stood her ground.

She waited for a reaction from Tubby.

The horse watched her every slow step toward him.

Straightening her spine, she sighed, then forced her legs to stop shaking.

She stared straight into eyes of Tubby daring him to do his best to chase her from the paddock.

Tubby stood watching Lisa move in closer.

He used his front hooves to dig some dirt.

Snorted at her.

Flicked his ears forward.

He bared his teeth.

Whined at her.

She kept moving closer.

“You don't frighten me, young Tubby. I have your number,” whispered Lisa.

Tubby shook his head.

He backed up a pace a few paces.

Paced around the yard to encourage her to follow him.

He kept watching while he paced making the circles smaller.

Lisa stood her ground.

She knew what he expected her to do.

He was a smart horse so he'd soon work out she didn't intend to chase him.

She wasn't like the others who had tried to calm him in the past.

Tubby had led all of them a merry chase while they tried to lasso him.

Lisa lowered her bottom to sit on the ground to wait for Tubby to come to her to know why she had given up.

She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

She leaned her head on her knees with her hat covering her face.

A puzzled Tubby pranced around the yard.

He eased his way toward where she sat.

He nudged the hat from her head with his nose.

She didn't move.

Tubby kept butting her with his nose until she raised her hand to pat him before she slowly rose to her feet to hug him around the neck.

Hats flew into the air.

Cheers rang out when Lisa walked out of the gate.

(My thanks to the owner of the photo. Just used to decorate. Haven't had time to snap photos of horses, yet.)

Hummock Land

King Fredrick of Hummock Land raged around his castle.

The residents of the Burnett Shire had no rights to desecrate his land.

Torn down the trees.

Built houses, the silly people.

Couldn't they see the trouble their building caused.

“A short memory,” grumbled King Fredrick. “They don't remember what I can do.”

“Now, now, dear,” Queen Eleanor tried to calm her husband. “Don't be upset. You know what the geologist said. If you stay cal you can lay dormant for years.”

“I'm not a doormat,” roared the king.

The ground began to move.

Windows in the houses rattled.

Trees swayed with the vibration.

“I didn't say doormat, dear. I said dormant. Forget your hearing aid this morning.”

“There's no clouds for rain. Why did you say we will have some rain.”

“Didn't say rain, dear. Up top they are using the sprinkler. Why are they wasting water.”

“I'll give them torture. Tired of being poked, and prodded, every day. Have more sore spots than I knew was possible. Why won't they let me sleep.”

“Where. I didn't see any sheep. Were they on the ship, dear.”

“Time has come for me to show my displeasure. Fed up with all the noise.”

“Now, dear. Don't be rough. Just a little rumble,” pleaded Queen Eleanor.

“I going to roar louder than a lion. Bellow more than a bull. Hold on, dear, I'm aiming for the sky.”

The ground rumbled.

Shook.

Flowers, and grass, sizzled and died. Houses became ovens from the heat rising to the surface of Hummock Land.

Roads were jammed with traffic.

Residents tried to escape the wrath of King Fredrick.

Cracks formed in the road.

Car tires began to melt but the owners kept driving to try to escape.

With one all might roar, King Fredrick, blew his top.

Exploded.

Rocks, and lava, shot high into the air.

Rain of lava, and rocks, fell from the sky, covering the land for kilometers.

Many did pay with their lives the day King Fredrick blew his top.

Now, there is a gaping hole where a created has formed.

King Fredrick is at peace.

Now, dormant, until he becomes angry, then will put on another display.

Gossip

“Have you seen, Dorothea?”

“She may have lost her way. The traffic up here is busy today. Wonder where they're all coming from, Cheryl?”

“Something must have happened. Look around. We might can find what has happened.”

“Mary, your hair looks great. What have you done with it?”

“I found this darling hairdresser. He's so...cute. Wears such, tight trousers. I'd love to see him in shorts.”

“See who in shorts. Damn,” thunder clapped. “Sorry. This nail polish won't dry. I won't be using this brand again.”

“You're late, Dorothea. What kept you?”

“Flying around. There's a lot of work to do today. How come you're early?”

“That would be telling. We've been busy people watching. It's fun.”

“How did you find that job. Didn't know there was such a job around here. Where do I go to apply. I loved people watching back home. You never knew what you found going on in the area. Laura Bains for instance she was a proper hussy. I had to watch her around Jake. She had a fetish for bells. She tried to collect Jake's ding-a-ling. Had to watch her hands. She pretended she came to look at my orchids. But I knew what she really wanted. She...”

“Oh. How could he. Oh. Dorothea.” Cheryl's eyes glued to the shenanigans below. “Oh. How dare he?”

“How dare, who. Who are you looking at?”

“Scoot over. I want to see. I love a good scandal”

“Sorry, Dorothea  The telescope has clouded over. Boy. It's hot.” Mary fanned her red face. “Must be a storm front moving in. A bit cloudy now...”

“Give me the telescope. Where did you have this set?”

“But you can't, Dot,” both Cheryl, and Mary, spoke together.

“I wouldn't if I were you.”

“I think we should move to another area.”

“No. I want to see.”

“You will be mad. I don't think Ja...”

“There are some beautiful orchids at that house,” said Mary.

Dorothea looked to where she pointed. “Oh. What lovely orchids. They belong to Frank Jonson. He lived down the street from me. Our house should be...Jake. How could you. That hussy. Wonder how long. The hussy has her own way, finally. Get you hands off of his ding-a-ling. I'll teach her.” Dorothea raised her hands.

Streaks of lightning flashed from the ends of her fingers.

Thunder rumbled among the clouds.

White clouds became black while Dorothea let her rage pour forth.

“ Dorothea,” thundered around the women. “I'm warning you. I'll take away your powers. I promised sunshine for the day.”

“That hussy is with my husband.”

“Why not. He is probably lonely. Jake needed some company. Rein in your temper. Or you will be demoted to gatekeeper. You're not suppose to take over my job. You are only suppose to help when I'm on holidays. Now, cool it.”

“Yes, Thor. When...”

“Now, Dorothea. Or I'll whisper in Jake's ear.

“ Dorothea. How could you,” her two friends looked shocked at her. “Wait until we tell...”

“Don't think so, ladies.” Thor zapped both women.

“What do you want to do, Mary?”

“I think I'll go for a fly.”

“Wait for me, girls.” Dorothea went to follow her friends.

“ Dorothea. You can play with my ding-a-ling.”

“Forget it. I have a headache.”

Thor's laugh echoed across the sky while Dorothea made good her escape.

My House

 My house was a tent. Roof. Walls.

Wooden pallet floor.

A wood stove for cooking stood in a corrugated recess at one end of the tent structure.

The only good about living in the tent, was it was constructed on the top of a medium sized hill.

We bathed in a tin tub on the floor near the wood stove when rain came. The rest of the time we showered out in the open. By Open. I mean corrugated iron nailed to wooden posts. Pallet floor. No roof. A shower bucket was hung from a sky hook bolted through a piece of hardwood. A rope was pulled for the water to fall.

Every time rain fell the roads were blocked in all directions. The only way in, or our, was by rail motor. Providing the line wasn't washed out, or flooded.

The only excitement at those times was to watch the rise, and fall, of the flood water. Watch how fa the back water spread out across the land. Other times, the sun shone but we were still flooded. Rain at the head of the creeks, and rivers, caught the water sending it barreling down the dry creek to flood our area.

On one occasion, when the rain fell I was bored. I was only a few years old. Couldn't go outside to play. Mud pies were off the menu.

Clothes boiled in a kerosene tine on the top of the stove. Placed on rope strung between posts to dry.

Mum baked. No bread available. Baking helped to supplement the food supply to last us longer.

“Find me the flat scone tray,” asked my mum. “It's in the bottom of the cupboard beside you.”

I opened the doors. Swung both of them wide open. I crouched down to look for the tray. I couldn't find it.

“Have you found the tray. I want to put the scones in the oven to be ready for lunch.”

“I can't find it. It's not here.”

Mum continued on with her cooking. Didn't watch what I was doing. That is. Until the loud crash followed by my squeal. I had been swinging on one of the doors. The cupboard tipped. The doors stopped the cupboard from falling on top of me. All the dished from the shelves smashed to the floor.

There wasn't much left of the china dinner set. Most of the glass stuff broke. A four gallon kerosene tin was full of broken glass when the clean up was finished. But I found the scone tray. It lay among the broken glass on the floor.

The scones were being pulled from the oven when my father came in for lunch.

I did get yelled at. Smacked on the backside with the wooden spoon. Sent to bed without tasting the scones.

Glass plates were replaced with enamel ones until we stopped moving around to different places.

I learnt the danger of swinging on doors. Might have been killed.

Noisy Night

 Weather plays tricks.

Mother Nature on the war path.

Winter moving in before time.

Sound closed in.

Every little noise becomes gigantic.

Rain brings out the devil from the usually sane people.

All the noise kept interrupting my sleep. Curled up beneath the blanket to warm the chilled body I closed my eyes listening to the rain pelting down on the roof. The wind rattling the windows. I thought of my recently potted plants. Would they stand the gale. Had the roots begun to settle into the new soil. Prayed each of them stayed the distance of the force of the wind. Or were they being ripped from the pot to lay deserted on the ground. These were the last thoughts before sleep claimed me, again.

With the rain came the devils.

Devils who believed they were invincible. Strong. Beyond danger finding them. Only their enjoyment of the excitement of the chase brought to them. Car engines roared. Gears changed. Tyres skidded around the corners. Were they being chased. Playing chicken with the traffic lights. Did friends egg the driver into dangerous action. Had they been drinking. By the time the car reached my street the occupants were yelling encouragement out open windows. When the noise petered out sleep claimed me once again.

Later, I was woken by the truck brakes. The lights had turned red to stop their progress. Engines revved when the lights changed. Mange gear changes while the truck gathered speed to the next set of lights. Somewhere in the distance chimed in another sound before I drifted to another cat-nap.

The whistle of the train came next. The roaring sound when the train charged along the tracks going south. Or was it coming down the street. On closed in nights, whether by low clouded overcast skies, or fog in winter, you have this feeling of them coming down the street. So real. So disturbing when woken from a deep sleep. The heart pumps fast. Has the train come off of the rails. Taken a wrong turn. Not likely. But the fear is there for a short time. Until sleep come, again.

Morning come but the sun doesn't.

Rain is threatening.

Clouds block out the sun. The heat.

You curse the birds squabbling. Or singing. Why should they be so happy. This is still the middle of the night.

A lawn mower starts.

The grandmother clock chimes the hour.

You count.

Groan.

Another miserable day has arrived.

Eyes sleepy from all the noise during the night.

I crawl from my warm cocoon to face the chill. With foggy brain I try to plan what I can do.

Washing. Another dryer day.

Gardening. Well, the weeds will still be waiting for me another day.

Television. Nothing interesting.

Craft work. I shake my head. The fog doesn't clear.

Oh, well. I smile. Another day at the computer. I have a good excuse to be sitting around.

I ignore the phone. Don't want to have the story flow broken.

A Part of The Past.

 I really didn't want to get out of the car.

I'd been here previously.

I didn't like being here.

Cold shivers ran through me. I felt eyes watch me from the branches of the trees. Eyes burned into my back.

Big trees grew on three sides of the house. Limbs hung over the roof. I was chilled to the bones. I didn't want to go inside. I'd prefer to sleep in the car. The car had windows.

The house was built of corrugated iron on the outer walls. No lining. Windows were wood, not glass. The windows were pushed out to be propped open with a stick. Fresh air. Flies. Frogs. Snakes. All of them able to enter the house, at will. Through the open windows. Or crawl up the corrugates of the iron.

I hated going to bed. If I didn't have an animal in my bed when I went to sleep, I prayed for the bed to be empty at dawn. Except for myself.

The toilet was a nightmare. A well like round hole was dug. A wooden construction surrounded by corrugated iron was placed over the very deep hole. When desperate, I made my mother hold me. I had visions of falling down never to be pulled out, alive. Sometimes, I squatted behind a car, drum, or any other object, beg enough to hide a small child. At night, I held on so I wouldn't have to venture out in the dark.

Electric lights weren't an option. Either a lantern. Or a pressure lamp were the go. Heating came from the combustion stove.

The shower.

Very inventive.

Dangerous.

Corrugated iron was built around the posts of the tank stand. The floor was made of cement. A shower system was hooked up to the rain water tank. Well water filled the tank when rain refused to fall. A container was used to pour in petrol. I think. It must have been. The noise it made when a match was dropped in. A loud roar echoed up the spout. The heat from the fire heated the water.

I preferred the one at home. It wasn't as dangerous. A wooden pallet for the floor. Corrugated iron for the walls. No roof. A shower bucket hung from a cross beam. The buck was filled with warm water. A rope was pulled for the spray to wet the person. Very chilly in winter. Had to watch for frogs. Toads. Snakes. Spiders.

With out toilet at home the only worry was the vermin. Spiders were a big problem. Especially, the red backs. Had to make sure there weren't any on the seat. There we had a pan. Not a hole in the ground. A hole had to be dug to empty the smelly, worm infested mess. You had to quickly shovel in the dirt. Wash out the pan before replacing it. This was not one of my mothers favorite jobs. She kept wanting to hurl out the contents of her stomach.

Nightly Visitors

This house sunk into the ground during the January floods, 2013. Not part of the story. Didn't have an available photo of a ghost.

 The bed shook.

Adrenalin rushed throughout my body.

My pounding heart echoed in my ears.

Muscles ceased. From head to toe I couldn't move a muscle.

My eyelids refused to open.

Some weight. Or was it a ting. A ghost. What manifestation had entered my bedroom.

Groggy from being woken from a deep sleep.

I waited.

I listened.

Feeling every change.

Movement.

I waited for the ax to fall.

A shot to explode breaking the silence.

A knife to be held to my throat.

I hadn't heard a window break.

No door bashed in to gain entry.

Nor any noise coming up the steps.

How was entry gained?

With vocal cords frozen I couldn't scream.

Nor any footsteps coming up the steps.

How was entry gained?

Whatever fell across my legs, pinning me to the bed, moved. Slid over to the other side of the bed to fall to the floor. Claws dug into the quilt. I don't own a cat. The animal clawed its way up on to the bed. Walked across me to reach the other side. Made itself comfortable on the unoccupied bed space.

Lights flashed. Were they in the room? Or did truck lights flash through the window. A light show behind closed eyelids. Within seconds the light disappeared. I felt a pin prick to the side of my neck.

My muscles relaxed. I could move my legs.

I became angry. Who would want to terrorize me?

I came out of the horror at the sound of my voice.

“If you've hurt me. I'll kill you.”

Opening my eyes. I searched the gloom for the intruder. I was the only human in the room.

Taking a deep breath. Sighing. I went to sleep. I had a feeling of comfort. Well being. I was being guarded while I slept.

Remembering the adrenalin rush in the morning.

The fright.

Sound of my angry voice.

Words I'd never use when awake.

The movement.

When the sun rose so did I.

I searched through every room of the house to look for evidence a human had entered, somehow. Nothing was broken.

Was it a manifestation?

A healing.

Seeing into the future.

A nightmare.

Or someone protecting me from an avenger from the dark side.

                     

Forever Moving

 What is new in town? Is it new business. A road. A building. Moving to another location. I moved to many places throughout my life time. There wasn't much in the way of buildings, or people. Where ever Queensland Rail needed workers, my father had to move us in a hurry. We had to travel lite.

Growing up, I lived in tents, and caravans. Every few weeks, or months, depending on the size of the job, we moved to another area, where most of the people were railway employees. Some men camped in rail wagons set up for living. A train shunted into the siding, or loop line, to take them to the next destination.

With each change of location, I had to make different friends at new schools. I was graded by some of the students to find out if I was allowed to be a friend. Or to be discarded like a skunk. Moving was a great education on how to, or not, meet strangers.

Thinking back over the years, I've likened my life of moving to an animal, like a cat, dog, or a tiger. When strangers move into their territory, the locals sniff around to either accept you, or black list you. A recognizable member was sent to survey out the situation for the leader. The leader received a report. Your life was safe if you passed muster. Not accepted. You find much trouble is headed in your direction whether you are guilty, or not. You learn who you can trust, or can't.

I learnt to go with the flow like lava spilling from a volcano. I'd have a friend. Then I wouldn't. The days, my supposed friend had been dragged back to the fold, I acted like I didn't care. I learned to keep my mouth shut, and my opinions to myself, so not to have any rumors spread, or exaggerated. I have a built in radar on who to trust, or not.

What happened in the past I handled, or never brought to the light of day. Now, there is a name for every wrong. Everyone is more vocal. I found by handling change my way the bully didn't get a high for his/her trouble.

New places. New People. Life moves to a different beat. I fit into changes. A different way of life with strangers means I don't have to be perfect. I become adaptable to each situation. I watch for the bends. Be careful of the cliffs which cross my path. Maybe those changes were a way for me to experience different types of living to add fantasy to most areas of my writing.

For the past few years, my travelling has been curtailed to one area. I do have a few excursions. I am taking time to re-evaluate where, or what, I'd like to do, next.

Ark Needed

 The wind howled. Battered against all standing it the path of destruction. Trees swayed. Bent to the force of wind, and rain. Rain showed no mercy for those beneath, or the fast rising of the water. Waterlogged earth gave way. There was no power on earth to decrease the damage wrought by Mother Nature.

I prayed. “Please, Gods. Angels. Who ever is listening out there in the universe. Stop this savage attack before the world is no more. To my Guardian Angels, if you can hear me. Please protect me, and my home from disaster. Can you also protest Noelene's house. She won't be happy to return to find rubble where her home once stood.”

Not able to sleep from the noise, I climbed from my bed. Switched on the lamp. I walked the floor to peep out of rattling windows. I removed large pictures from the wall atop my bed. Didn't want to die by falling framed pictures. Had another look to check the water level, and damage. Finding a book, I read, to try to block out the continuous roaring. A least, I was ready to dash for cover if the roof disappeared.

Day became night. Hard to tell the time. Did I build an ark? The days of rain mounted. The last time an ark was needed the world changed. Not having a plan on how to build one. Not a shop open to supply the materials. What was I to do? The neighbors wouldn't have been happy with me if I did decided to construct the ark on the street. More thing would have bumped in the night with cars running slap bang into the construction.

“How are you, Mum?” Worried family called. “We've been watching the floods on television. Do you have a problem with the flooding?”

“Other than a lack of sleep I'm fine.”

“But there a lots of people moving from their homes. Are you sure you are safe?”

“Sure. As long as the roof stays I'll be fine. I had to cover my head with pillows to try to block the roaring of the wind. It's like trying to sleep in a war zone with low flying aircraft. My house won't go under. Watch the post office. If the roof goes under you won't have to worry. No one will be left in the town.”

A family of staving, drowned Magpies adopted me during the storm. There wasn't food to find. Feeling sorry for them, I fed them scraps to tide them over until the sun appeared. I have been trying to retrain them not to depend on me. I am serenaded when they want to be fed. If ignored they will finally go away. But one baby has started to destruct a couple of my pot plants. I moved the plant. I ignore even if they drown out the television.