SCENE DEVELOPMENT - Post 4

This is a continuing scene development adventure I've started while exploring methods of description. For clarity I may have made slight edits to the first 3 posts, but if you are up-to-date and have read through Post 3 jump down to the new entry, Post 4. 

Post 1

Darkness…

Dripping water into darkness, and then more water. An echo of water dripping into what seems eternity and the echo of silence between the drips. Water moving without drips and without a cause. Coldness of air which does not drip but does move for no reason. Moving water but not touching water, washing the surface of non-water, water touching dirt. In turn water makes mud that slides against other mud and positions to meet water dripping…dripping to be combined but then considered separate. Cool mud, mud from a recent rain which drips, drips, drips. 

Insects move across the top of the water, and surfaces chasing each other - gather and then scatter. Pooling over the moisture continues its movement, working with gravity, moving down toward the supporting surface. Mud, existing possibly for months or years, maybe centuries while waiting dormant for water, insects, and gravity continues its movement. Water runs down leaves as lightning cracks across the sky and thunder rumbles in the distance.

Post 2

Thunder continues like a banging timpani while moisture drips from the clouds. The bellowing sounds rhythmically resonate across the sky, between the exploding concussions of sound a steady drip of water from the surrounding foliage continues. The combination of the constant, melodic "Drip....Drip....Drip" with the other sounds form a natural symphony of musical quality unrepeatable by man nor nature...sounds only a supreme being would ever dream to create. As the thunder rumbles and the water drops from the clouds the repetitive dripping becomes muddled as a flood of moisture dropping from the sky drowns-out the cataclysmic booms.

The moisture runs from plant to surface to another surface to another plant; the 'drip' is pushed into the constant background sounds of the orchestration. "Boom" leads to a "clash" and then to a "drip" to a "boom", continuing as if no end will be reached. The petals of small plants and buds in development, along with ‘soon to be’ blooms lean low, the water weighting each down toward the surface and watery mud which wait for a mass of plants to feed the planet with nutrients.

Bending over, the plant stems struggle to maintain an erect stance but slowly the leaves give way to the weight of moisture and new plant growth falls from the stem. The ever active stem growth realizes nutrients are available, however buds fall to the wayside allowing stems to pop back into their erect position while the water continues its flow down the stems. Water running downward ultimately reaches the surface, mixes with mud and wields a new combination, sludge. Ultimately this new sludge gives way to gravity and flows down the slopes of terrain.

Post 3

Darkness is the measure of less light; the current lessening of light continues to diminish the presence of the landscape. As the sludge flows it combines with liquid falling from the limbs and stems to form a voluptuous concatenation of noise. Waterfalls dropping short distances could be mistaken as produced by cliffs or a shorter bluff in the darkening but in reality might only be inches or centimeter. Hundreds, thousands, or millions of short drops have the power to generate a boisterous natural sound and move the earth itself.

As the sound continues to build an additional roaring sound begins to develop in the distance with a "Growl!!!!!" and a rumbling followed by an echoing ‘sputter’ type of noise. If detectable by a living being the sound could be mistaken for a natural occurrence, yet confusingly would seem to be manmade. But this rising and falling landscape shows no living movement, only sounds of dripping, splashing, and gurgling of nature in movement mixed with a booming exclamation which might be considered thunder. Then this orchestrated sound is followed by the “Growl….putt...putt…Growl…putt…putt …Growl.”

As the new sound seems to grow louder and near it suddenly stops. But just before the sound ceases a twisting sound, similar to metal sliding across metal erupts and then the combination of new sounds ends again. Flashes of light dance across the landscape with no particular pattern or design. Although bright and intense this lighting can in no way engulf the entire landscape, or at least it presently does not cover the entire landscape. The small, condensed light leaves much of the fluids and sludge in almost complete darkness. Ferns and plants that seek sunlight for growth have to wait; this episode of lambency is not for them. Plants are not capable of thought, but if that a possibility it would be easy to understand that this thematically related lighting was not intended for plants which may been 'in-process' of seeking a growth opportunity. A short moment of time passes followed by intense sludge movement, similar to a river or dam, and then the overflow abruptly stops like rain water gushing over a city curb or the gutter of a residential home.

Seconds pass…

The water can be heard flowing again, dripping from leaf and stem, trickling down to the surface again and then….

Two pounding sounds, “Thud…..Thud!” sound across the landscape, louder than any of the resident flowing sounds. But immediately after the last “Thud” the gushing of the landscape sound mix coulld be heard as the dominate sound and the solo encore performance.

Post 4
"Swoosh", the sound was loud and momentary; once it had reverberated and dissipated the previous, dominant environmental sounds returned to control.  

Moments later a voluptuous "Boom!" sounded and was followed by sloshing sounds of movement which blended with the previous sounds. The sloshing movements were not nature-natural, meaning there was no steady, rhythmic count.  The orchestrated steady drips and mingling of the sloshing became commingled and inseparable and then there was another "Boom!"

Seconds passed and a male voice exclaimed, "Damn!! It's raining harder than...'

But before the sentence could be finished another male voice shouted, "Shut-up!  Do you think I'm an idiot? I can see the rain is coming down, I was driving the stupid van!" 

The rain was indeed coming down, pounding the roof of the vehicle and making it difficult for either to the hear the other. The torrential downpour caused the men to scream above the other sounds to be heard, even though they were only feet away from one another.

One screamed, "Hurry up, I want to get out of here!!!"

The sound of the van doors could be heard opening and both men jumped out into the rain. With water dripping down from their clothing both paused to wipe their face in an losing battle to stay dry. The couple ran to the side sliding door of the van, a handle turned and the door opened. It was dry inside and both jumped back inside, but the vehicle was stuffed with boxes and clothing and they stumbled over one another. With water flooding through the door one let out a cry, "Shut the door!"

"Open the door, shut the door...hand me the keys, hurry up! Make up your confused mind...just make up your damn mind..." the other mumbled and the door slammed shut with a "Boom!!!"

Outside the natural sounds of water, mud, sludge and dripping returned, but inside different sounds, heavy breathing, cursing and the sound of the rain pounding the top of the vehicle were all that could be heard.

While screaming one said, "OK, let's get this finished...I'm hungry!" 

SCENE DEVELOPMENT - Post 3

This is a continuing scene development adventure I've started while exploring methods of description. For clarity I may have made slight edits to the first two posts, but if you are up-to-date and have read through Post 2 jump down to the new entry, Post 3. 

Post 1

Darkness…

Dripping water into darkness, and then more water. An echo of water dripping into what seems eternity and the echo of silence between the drips. Water moving without drips and without a cause. Coldness of air which does not drip but does move for no reason. Moving water but not touching water, washing the surface of non-water, water touching dirt. In turn water makes mud that slides against other mud and positions to meet water dripping…dripping to be combined but then considered separate. Cool mud, mud from a recent rain which drips, drips, drips.

Insects move across the top of the water, and surfaces chasing each other - gather and then scatter. Pooling over the moisture continues its movement, working with gravity, moving down toward the supporting surface. Mud, existing possibly for months or years, maybe centuries while waiting dormant for water, insects, and gravity continues its movement. Water runs down leaves as lightning cracks across the sky and thunder rumbles in the distance.

Post 2

Thunder continues like a banging timpani while moisture drips from the clouds. The bellowing sounds rhythmically resonate across the sky, between the exploding concussions of sound a steady drip of water from the surrounding foliage continues. The combination of the constant, melodic "Drip....Drip....Drip" with the other sounds form a natural symphony of musical quality unrepeatable by man nor nature...sounds only a supreme being would ever dream to create. As the thunder rumbles and the water drops from the clouds the repetitive dripping becomes muddled as a flood of moisture dropping from the sky drowns-out the cataclysmic booms.

The moisture runs from plant to surface to another surface to another plant; the 'drip' is pushed into the constant background sounds of the orchestration. "Boom" leads to a "clash" and then to a "drip" to a "boom", continuing as if no end will be reached. The petals of small plants and buds in development, along with ‘soon to be’ blooms lean low, the water weighting each down toward the surface and watery mud which wait for a mass of plants to feed the planet with nutrients.

Bending over, the plant stems struggle to maintain an erect stance but slowly the leaves give way to the weight of moisture and new plant growth falls from the stem. The ever active stem growth realizes nutrients are available, however buds fall to the wayside allowing stems to pop back into their erect position while the water continues its flow down the stems. Water running downward ultimately reaches the surface, mixes with mud and wields a new combination, sludge. Ultimately this new sludge gives way to gravity and flows down the slopes of terrain.

Post 3

Darkness is the measure of less light; the current lessening of light continues to diminish the presence of the landscape. As the sludge flows it combines with liquid falling from the limbs and stems to form a voluptuous concatenation of noise. Waterfalls dropping short distances could be mistaken as produced by cliffs or a shorter bluff in the darkening but in reality might only be inches or centimeter. Hundreds, thousands, or millions of short drops have the power to generate a boisterous natural sound and move the earth itself.

As the sound continues to build an additional roaring sound begins to develop in the distance with a "Growl!!!!!" and a rumbling followed by an echoing ‘sputter’ type of noise. If detectable by a living being the sound could be mistaken for a natural occurrence, yet confusingly would seem to be manmade. But this rising and falling landscape shows no living movement, only sounds of dripping, splashing, and gurgling of nature in movement mixed with a booming exclamation which might be considered thunder. Then this orchestrated sound is followed by the “Growl….putt...putt…Growl…putt…putt …Growl.”

As the new sound seems to grow louder and near it suddenly stops. But just before the sound ceases a twisting sound, similar to metal sliding across metal erupts and then the combination of new sounds ends again. Flashes of light dance across the landscape with no particular pattern or design. Although bright and intense this lighting can in no way engulf the entire landscape, or at least it presently does not cover the entire landscape. The small, condensed light leaves much of the fluids and sludge in almost complete darkness. Ferns and plants that seek sunlight for growth have to wait; this episode of lambency is not for them. Plants are not capable of thought, but if that a possibility it would be easy to understand that this thematically related lighting was not intended for plants which may been 'in-process' of seeking a growth opportunity. A short moment of time passes followed by intense sludge movement, similar to a river or dam, and then the overflow abruptly stops like rain water gushing over a city curb or the gutter of a residential home.

Seconds pass…

The water can be heard flowing again, dripping from leaf and stem, trickling down to the surface again and then….

Two pounding sounds, “Thud…..Thud!” sound across the landscape, louder than any of the resident flowing sounds. But immediately after the last “Thud” the gushing of the landscape sound mix returns to perform a solo encore.

SCENE DEVELOPMENT - Post 2

This is a continuing scene development adventure I've started while exploring methods of description. If you are up-to-date jump to the corresponding post number.

Post 1

Darkness…

Dripping water into darkness, and then more water. An echo of water dripping into what seems eternity and the echo of silence between the drips. Water moving without drips and without a cause. Coldness of air which does not drip but does move for no reason. Moving water but not touching water, washing the surface of non-water, water touching dirt. In turn water makes mud that slides against other mud and positions to meet water dripping…dripping to be combined but then considered separate. Cool mud, mud from a recent rain which drips, drips, drips.

Insects move across the top of the water, and surfaces chasing each other - gather and then scatter. Pooling over the moisture continues its movement, working with gravity, moving down toward the supporting surface. Mud, existing possibly for months or years, maybe centuries while waiting dormant for water, insects, and gravity continues its movement. Water runs down leaves as lightning cracks across the sky and thunder rumbles in the distance.

Post 2

Thunder continues like a banging timpani while moisture drips from the clouds. The bellowing sounds rhythmically resonate across the sky, between the exploding concussions of sound a steady drip of water from the surrounding foliage continues. The combination of the constant, melodic "Drip....Drip....Drip" with the other sounds form a natural symphony of musical quality unrepeatable by man nor nature...sounds only a supreme being would ever dream to create. As the thunder rumbles and the water drops from the clouds the repetitive dripping becomes muddled as a flood of moisture dropping from the sky drowns-out the cataclysmic booms.

The moisture runs from plant to surface to another surface to another plant the 'drip' is pushed into the constant background sounds of the orchestration. "Boom" leads to a "clash" and then to a "drip" to a "boom", continuing as if no end will be reached. The petals of small plants and buds in development, along with ‘soon to be’ blooms lean low to the surface, the water weighting each down toward the surface and watery mud which wait for each plant to feed the planet with nutrients.

Bending over, the plant stems struggle to maintain an erect stance but slowly the leaves give way to the weight of moisture and some new plant growth falls from the stem. The ever active stem growth realizes nutrients are available, however buds fall to the wayside allowing stems to pop back into their erect position while the water continues its flow down the stems. Water running downward ultimately reaches the surface, mixes with mud and wields a new combination, sludge. Ultimately this new sludge gives way to gravity and flows down the slopes of terrain.

Data Loss

Quick note, my service provider had a problem this morning and restored my site to before my most current post on "Scene Development", and then put my post back but the comments have been lost. If you had left a comment before the system problem, and have the time please consider leaving it again. I am sorry about this problem but always appreciate your feedback.  :-D)

SCENE DEVELOPMENT

I've been working on a couple new ideas, including the location and introductory setting of a scene. Below I've included descriptive notes for a scene. Some of my followers from Twitter might think, where's the grammar? In this setting I'm sort of sidestepping the grammar, and instead using the unstructured sentences to add to the scene. I have written more to this scene but want to get your idea on this piece before I add the upcoming paragraphs.  My plan is to post scene 'clips' and see what you think, feel free to share your thoughts. Consider, "What is the scene?" "How does it make you feel? What might happen next?", or "What do you feel I have on my mind?"

Here goes!

Darkness…

Dripping water into darkness, and then more water. An echo of water dripping into what seems eternity and the echo of silence between the drips. Water moving without drips and without a cause. Coldness of air which does not drip but does move for no reason. Moving water but not touching water, washing the surface of non-water, water touching dirt. In turn water makes mud that slides against other mud and positions to meet water dripping…dripping to be combined but then considered separate. Cool mud, mud from a recent rain which drips, drips, drips.

Insects move across the top of the water, and surfaces chasing each other - gather and then scatter. Pooling over the moisture continues its movement, working with gravity, moving down toward the supporting surface. Mud, existing possibly for months or years, maybe centuries while waiting dormant for water, insects, and gravity continues its movement. Water runs down leaves as lightning cracks across the sky and thunder rumbles in the distance.  

WORST DARKNESS

Innocent

Innocent no more

Future unknown

Abandoned

No protection

No guide

No angel

Pain

Pain times 2

Pain times more

No rescue

No relief

No guide

No angel

Pain times more

Assist

Thrown back

Worst Darkness.

I know my last 2 posts have taken a step away from my fiction writing, but in the past couple weeks I've seen things and read even more which has compelled me to write more from a 'statement' mode.' If you are in a relationship that involves any type of abuse please seek help immediately, do not delay. If you want to contact me send a DM tweet to @_AndyBryant, leave me a note here, or you can find my email address in my profile info on this site and I will be in touch as quick as possible  

Posted March 3, 2011

UNWANTED PERSON

I saw you sitting there today.

Once a valuable part

Now not treated as such.

Society used you up

Took everything it could want

Then you changed 

For good or bad

And your value was less desired.

Turned you into a debt

A beggared

Not a prize.

So now you sit on the sidelines.

Who will help you?

Who will come to your rescue?

Who will pass you by…

Turning an unwanted eye… 

Away so to avoid… 

What seems to be an unwanted person?

A kind of person allowed to reach a sublime mark

And place on those around a demand.

No need to help you be whole, 

Or at least fit in.

Can you be whole?

Do you demand it?

Society's need for love and fixing is not to be complete

It is to get you on your feet, then leave you on your own.

It should be to bring you back into the fold,

Make you one of us rather than leave you one of them,

So you are once again 

Where and what you should be - US.

    

Just to explain, I was driving down a street today and saw a man in a wheelchair waiting for something, or someone. He had a heavy jacket on but was sitting in direct sunlight and it was hot!! My emotions just hit me and I had to pull off the street and sit in the car while I teared up and dealt with the images that flashed in my mind, this poem. I talked with him for a couple minutes, he had been to a doctor's appointment and was waiting for a scheduled pickup; so he was pushed to the edge of the street and left waiting (basically at the discretion and schedule of someone else). While reading my words I hope you experienced a sense of what I felt, it was not comfortable at the time and not while typing the words. You can make a difference in the life of someone, so do it whenever you have the chance.  Andy

Posted 2/19/11

THE SEARCHER (entry 2)

(Read "entry 1" before this continuation.)


With eyes looking across the land

The Searcher shouted commands 

“Get Back! Do not advance! Keep your blades at the ready.”

Then ordered, "Defensive Stance!!”

His soldiers placed both feet on the ground

While pulling weapons directly in front of them.

The man holding the deceased's head laid it down

And instantly vanished before he could call out.

His brothers-at-arms

Trembled at the site.

Looked at each other

And one cried out.

“What happened? Where did he go?

He was there and something sucked him from our existence.”

For what happened had never been seen.

He had been pulled through some sort of screen.

A screen like a web, but not like smoke.

It was like the surface of a lake.

Only this magical lake 

Was standing straight like a mirror or gate.

It was as-if he was sucked through a wall

An opening appeared and then he was gone.

One man mumbled, “But did you see

A shadowy creature that was standing 3 meters tall?”

"I saw it," one said. “It had claw-like hands

And a hairy face.”

Another added, “Yes, it was like

A snout with two eyes and a penetrating gaze.”

The men continued to hold their positions

Swords at the ready.

The Searcher called out, "Light torches"

And motioned for all the party to stay ready.

A search of the immediate area

Provided no proof

Of what the party

Had witnessed, the sinister vision.

The only thing evidenced

That would prove the brother existed

Was the blood on the ground

And the horrid image that had visited.

A rustle in the brush could be heard

Followed by scurrying, maybe birds.

The search party continued to light torches

While looking through the woods.

In a few moments the animal sounds stopped

Except for a howl in the distance

The Searcher called out, "Stand down.

We seem safe, that must be someone's hunting hound."

Remembering the voice from before the attack

The Searcher said, "Prepare to move. This place may not be safe.

Collect your personal things, we have much ground to cover

Before we will see the day sky again."

The band of soldiers moved quickly through the night.

Other than being no enemy or creature to fight,

There was no peaceful plan. 

As instructed, they would remain low and close to the land. 

Searching for the princess was his intent

The men had been ordered to support him

And go where they were sent.

A few hours later as the sun rose the men sang a hymn.

"The Lord bless us and guide our way.

We have faith in the almighty one.

We are blessed and sing his praise

Our prayer is that with us he will stay."

The party had traveled 3 kilometers in the night

Many soldiers pondered what created their fright

They came upon a tall cross accompanied by burial mounds 

A place where many considered the dead to lounge. 

Thoughts of the soldier disappearing into the non-world

Frightened the most experienced soldier.

None had seen a person disappear before their eyes 

But memories of the hairy 'ghost' seemed to reside.

They sat up camp

Locals came out to greet

They traded for supplies

And cooked quite a feast

Then the questioning was resumed

Many had a blank look on their face.

But a few people had information

And wanted to claim their stake.

You see the King

Announced a financial purse 

For any assistance provided to

The Searcher for his daughter's return.

The Searcher was intrigued by what he heard

Talk of a shadow following a group

Several men had passed with a small figure in tow

Followed by a hulking man in the shadow.

The soldiers had been told of the two figures

As they had advanced on the princess.

How one had been hulking 

As he carried her away.

The Searcher was excited

Maybe they were getting close

He called out to his men

Almost in a loud, voice of boast.

"We can find her, We can find her!

We are close!

Quickly, thank our host.

Hurry, Hurry, Hurry to your horse!'

(continued) - posted 2/11/11

THE SEARCHER (entry 1)

The Princess walked freely in the kingdom

No evil stepped out.

She walked the street knowing that respect abound.

She loved the children and families too.

No matter where she walked evil was taboo.

This doesn’t mean that evil was not about.

But respect of ladies was the law in her land.

But some followed and planned evil things.

Murder, robbery, injury and slander of civic leaders including her father the king.

One group made plans and laid a trap.

They would stop her and abscond with her body.

Financial and political demands would be made for her return.

If the king would not step forward and meet their demands,

Her life’s light would be snuffed out.

The attack was designed and the day was at hand.

Unknown to her a trap had been laid in the dusk hours by man.

While walking down a street, two cloaked figures stepped around a corner.

A man pointed and said, “Come with me, do not scream.”

The larger figure gagged her with cloth and lifted her over a huge shoulder.

She tried to bite his arm but it was hard like a rock and round like a log.

A few breaths later she was gone.

Many men were asked to come forth and rescue her.

But many were physically unable to answer the call.

Some were around the globe, out and about.

The few who were capable and financially sure

Lived in fear and withdrew with no bid.

One simple man who had very little for his clan.

Stepped forward and shouted, “I will do it, I can!”

The crowd looked down at him; he was one and one-half meters tall.

The king came forward and said, “My short servant, take this sword and go forth.”

The young man collected the sword, helmet, a shield, boots and a map,

Walked across the town square, through the gate and his steed galloped away.

The moment he passed over the first mound he pulled back on the reign,

Removed his helmet, took a knee on the ground

And he began to pray.

“God, I ask you to bless my poor soul.

If I am able to do this it will be because of you.

Give me the strength and courage to move forth,

Provide me eyes of an eagle and hearing of a deer,

 To search for this damsel and find her with no scout,

In thy hands I place my heart and my mind.

Now take me, guide me and protect my soul.”

He mounted the animal, placed his boots in the stirrups and started again.

Shortly he came upon a small village that seemed to be old and down trodden.

But being present he looked for the leader of the few.

The people greeted him with smiles but silence  

Noting he walked as a knight and provided his steed a respite.

The villagers he passed were skinny and weak.

It was obvious that this village received little from the King.

The Searcher addressed each villager with questions about the young lass.

Each shook a head to the negative and he walked on past.

He bid them farewell, mounted his animal and left town.

The villagers who were present swore they heard horns blow loud.

Many others believed the sound to be angels singing his praise.

But truthfully it was only the wind that blew about.

He visited many villages in the same debilitated shape.

Each village greeted him as if he was the King

After all word spread fast that The Searcher would visit them soon.

It was as-if the King had remembered them when they were needy the most.

But no avail each village and small town could only answer in the negative

“Searcher, we have not seen her, she is not about.”?

He left each metropolis, city of village praying to God

Requesting the almighty deliver a plan.

Late one evening while his cook prepared food over a fire,

The Searcher lay on his back gazing into the sky.

Many in attendance later would swear they heard a second voice speak.

But no person was seen; and no one heard the steps of steed.

The voice said, “Do not be concerned, this will all end right.

 Continue your travels through this night.

But be careful there is danger all around.”

The voice concluded with “Prepare your sword and stay low to the ground.”

Moments later the young man rose from the ground and said to his men,

“Prepare your weapons, saddle your stead and lay down on that mound.”

His men prepared as instructed and moved their bed rolls with no sound.

Each lay down on their back with sword in hand; one stayed watch, many snored.

 Minutes seemed to pass slow like centuries since the dawn of time.

The single guard’s face was lighted only by the stars in the sky.

At some point the lone man heard in a commotion in a low lying scrub

Then the sound jumped into the top of the surrounding trees.

The steeds stammered their hoofs and whinnied to warn

That things were not safe, danger they had found.  

The guard called out to his mates

“Awake! Awake!” he shouted while pulling his sword.

“Awake! Awa….” was what was left to be heard.

While the last word trailed off in the empty forest air,

The others arose, each weapon pulled and held.

Each man pulled close to the next forming a circle as if bailed wheat.

The Searcher called out, “Where is our young guard?”

While watching the bush and tress he searched about.

Momentarily no one spoke a word,

Each man reviewed the perimeter for danger and a missing mate.

Then with a breath of fresh air passing across the mound one shouted,

“There lying on the ground, I see him on the ground.”

The Searcher shouted out, “Stay your position! Stand your ground!

With swords held high the circle of protection constricted

Terror seemed to magically pull each man back-to-back.  

There was no movement, no sound could be heard

Except for the exhaled breath of fearful mist into the cold.

The Searcher commanded one soldier “Bold your heart and check our brother.

But while giving him due required keep your sword at the ready.

Danger still prowls so make your concentration as bright as a light.”

The soldier walked slowly while glaring excitingly at the trees and the scrub.

With warm air passing between his lips the chill of the moment sailed back into his lungs.

 He stopped at the body and rolled it over, reached down and extended his arm

Then lifted his hand up holding the dead brother’s head and screamed, “He is dead! He is dead!”

(Continued)

While watching the second half of the Super Bowl I had a little fun and wrote this story (1st part). Leave me a comment and let me know what you think.

Posted 2/7/11

"Bound and Gagged"

Good day everyone. I wanted to take a moment to explain and request your understanding in relation to my absence the past month. First I have to say none of this is offered as an excuse but rather as an explanation. Many people who read this have not read, or have elected not to follow my other blog about my dad's prognosis, which is fine. But over on that blog I have described some things that have happened to him and his health. In fact Dad's diagnosis of stage 3 lung cancer and a prognosis of 6-9 months to live hit me like a Mack truck, load of bricks, jack hammer; you pick the quote that works for you. 

If you read it, or go back and read the blog you will find me in turmoil, maybe it was more like a deep, deep hole. I’m not even the person with cancer but it was an extreme sensation that came over me and shortly after that the holidays arrived and monopolized my time (and mind). His illness pulled me down into that hole and although I had a smile on my face my core person, my emotional base, my innards were ‘sludged up’ like the sludge in an automobile engine or 'quagmire of quicksand'. I knew it, my family knew it and my readers knew it.

This emotional cesspool polluted my mind while my initial blog posts flowed from the pit. Before I could gain any stable footing and write again the holidays were upon me. Thoughts of, “Can I enjoy this?”, “Do I betray my dad if I feel happy?”, and “The holidays can’t make this any better. It will still be there when it’s all over.” roamed around my mind (like the unexpended visitor in the car from my other blog). If you follow me on Twitter; user @_andybryant you may have read that I sing in a men’s choir at church and the group took part in several performances during the holidays; there was a lot going on.

No words came from either of my blogs.

"Bound and Gagged" by time and emotion I was not free to write.  I received many emails and tweets from people around the globe encouraging me to write while expressing concern for my dad. Many people sent messages for my dad; I passed them on to him and he says, "Thank you."  I tried to write but I was distracted by many things; I apologize to everyone reading this post and my "regular" followers who support me with their follow. Just knowing that you are there ready to support me with your thoughts and prayers, and ready to read my writing provides me with mental support that really does make a difference.

But with all that said I can tell you my mind has passed through a threshold of emotion into a realm of mental fiction. I once again can see the imaginary characters and worlds who have always been inside my head. I am prepared to release them through my keyboard and into this world.  Be prepared, I have seen many images, some truly disturbing during this mental 'bound and gagged' period of my life - I am prepared to face them and share with you. I have envisioned the movements of their bodies, conversational interchanges between them, and how the two become a person (or character) while understanding how my observations can be described for you. Be prepared, I am imaginging things to write that I’ve never shared before.

"What?", you say.  Watch for my update announcements here and on Twitter, my heart is racing now just thinking about it.

Take care and be safe! 

A Pin Drop

You could hear a pin drop.

Then they both walked out the door

Looking across the room Sarah said, “Well, that’s just not something you hear every day.”

Earlier in the morning, around 9am the couple had arrived, not late but not early either. In order to make the trip both had gotten out of bed at 3am, quickly showered, dressed, and grabbed plastic bags filled with bacon and egg Sarah prepared before they went to sleep the prior evening. Bella (Bell), Sarah’s Mother never liked coffee, not even the smell of it so Sarah brewed some coffee the evening before, let it cool and poured the beverage into a thermos just before they walked out the door. Her plan was to eat the food and enjoy the coffee during the trip; Bell grabbed a bag that had some bread in it, along with two bottles of water and a small container of milk. The bag of bacon and egg contained enough for both ladies.

The trip would be a long, mundane drive in a 1982 Ford Mustang convertible which would be considered a gamble to “arrive alive” by most anyone that caught a glimpse of the car. But Bell’s husband Roberto bought the Ford for the family when Sarah was in her 20s and the car had survived for more than 25-years with only a few problems; most being normal wear-and-tear issues like oil changes, tire alignment, and air conditioning maintenance. Bell had always considered the vehicle’s survival a reflection of Roberto being a good judge of vehicles, with his good judgment being a characteristic that attracted her in the first days of their young love affair. But no matter what the car’s age or appearance it was the only reliable vehicle either of the two ladies owned. The auto would have to suffice for this adventure.

As the two drove away from Sarah’s home the vehicle left a small trail of smoke. There was obviously an oil leak and it was probably just a matter of time before the Ford met his demise. Bella looked back and noticing the smoke unfortunately reminded her of just how dangerous it can be to travel such a distance in an antique automobile. She said another short prayer. She then gazed across the seat at her daughter and whispered to God, “Let us travel on the wings of angels.”

Sarah reached over to the dashboard and turned the radio on, the base tones in the rhythmic ‘bum-bummed, bum-bummed’ music pulsed in against their skin. In an almost synchronistic manner the two tapped fingers with the beat of the music, the younger woman silently raised and lowered her shoulders as the music momentarily led her away from the reality of the trip.

Time slowly passed and the sun continued to rise, glaring into their eyes. As noon approached the stellar light took a position directly above the road and the temperature inside the vehicle began to rise. Both ladies pulled out cool liquids, sipping slowly while the vehicle’s air conditioner hummed and they continued the day’s trek.

The trip required 2 planned refueling stops along the way and Bell had made plans to check out the convenience stores at each stop. The stores were really gas stations, but Bell did not get out of the house often so ‘convenience stories” would make for an exciting change of pace. When the ladies stopped at the first gas pump she quickly ran inside and practically demanded conversation from the clerk who was watching the money register. Belle enjoyed sipping soda and eating peanuts; Sarah even noticed her Mother lighting a cigarette for a gentlemen who fumbled in his pocket looking for a lighter while she asked him questions like, “Are you from around here?”, “Where are you headed?”, and “What are your plans for the future?”

Driving across the flat ground of the country-side gave the impression that the state roads never-ended. The low, mundane rumble of the tires rolling across the asphalt was such a sound that almost anyone would fall victim to the hypnotic noise. Sarah was not immune to this effect, several times her head snapped back to an acceptable alertness while she guided the vehicle back to the center of the road. She knew that each minute behind the vehicle’s steering wheel was a gamble with both of their lives.

“Mom…”, Bella did not answer. Sarah looked across the seat and noticed that her Mother was asleep.

“Mom…” she repeated. With this call of ‘Mom’ she nudged Bella in the forearm.

“Mom…”

Her Mother looked up and asked, “How long was I asleep?”

“I don’t know.  But I do know that if we don’t stop and let me rest for a moment the two of us will be claiming our eternal rest.”

They looked at each other, nodded in the affirmative like a couple bobble-head dogs in the rear window of an automobile, and one said, “OK, keep an eye peeled for another service station, I mean a convenience store.”

The humming of the tires continued but both ladies were more attentive as each road-sign and mile-marker was reviewed for a hint of what might appear in the distant horizon.

After fifteen-minutes and a half-dozen roadside exit signs Sarah veered the vehicle off the main thoroughfare and onto a service side-road. She stopped on the shoulder of the road, looked both ways and elected to proceed toward the only fueling station insight.

In what appeared to be a planned exist of the Mustang Bella sprung out of her seat and headed toward the store entry (and its lone employee). The station attendee was a female and Sarah knew her Mother would have a thousand questions for the young lady.

While Bell settled into a chair next to a coffee machine inside the store Sarah locked the vehicle, walked across the parking lot, stepped inside the store and headed toward the restroom. While maneuvering around a couple display cases she allowed herself another look back at Bell and the station attendant, shook her head and passed through the restroom door. After a few minutes of personal time Sarah walked back in Bell’s direction, found a lone chair, sat down and realized just how nice it was to not be vibrating or holding an accelerator pedal down.

A few minutes turned into 15 minutes and while enjoying a moment of relaxation Sarah realized that the asphalt rumble had been replaced by another one, the Bella rumble. It was at that moment Sarah noticed she was surrounded by store stock; cans of peas, beans, soup and soda.  She pulled a couple cases of peas over in front of her chair, kicked her heels up on the boxes and leaned back in the chair.

Moments later Bella asked her, “Do you really think I’ve got cancer?”

“Mom, why do you ask such silly questions? Just because Glenda talks about it all the time doesn’t mean that is why you’re tired.”

Then a moment later Bell pulled out an x-ray image of something that she explained was a breast and that she believed the little spot was cancer. In fact she told Sarah that the store clerk thought it was cancer and the older gentlemen who bought two packs of cigarettes a couple minutes earlier agreed that it was cancer.

“It has to be cancer” Bell said. Of course Sarah had no idea what it really was but she wasn’t going to agree with her Mother just because she was anxious about the trip to the doctor. Every time Bell had a sore throat she self-diagnosed and the problem was never as bad as her Mother’s imagination. Then Sarah thought. “Where the heck did she get the x-rays any way?”

At that moment Bell yelled across the room, “Sarah! Sarah! Wake up!” and then she shook Sarah who immediately woke up. She took a minute to compose herself and then realized that the entire conversation with her Mother was a dream…

….And she thought to herself, “What if it is cancer?”

(Continued)

*******

Author’s Comments

If you have been following my Twitter account or read some of my comments here on the blog you are aware that I committed to writing a story in sort of a medicinal format for one of my followers (she has now become a friend that follows along). She has been dealing with a cancer issue, her Mother’s cancer. During many long days the two have attended doctor’s appointments and chemotherapy treatments. Her support system is sometimes stretched thin, her children are grown and living elsewhere and her husband does not have the pleasure of leaving work for all of the appointments.

Similar to Sarah and Bella in my story there is doubt, anxiousness and worry while drudging through each day. This story is the beginning of a new storyline, some character development and the concern of whether cancer is the problem.

Please let me know what you think and post any comments you may have, whether they are directed toward me and the story or you would like to comment on an experience you, a friend or family member have encountered.

Also, if you’ve been following my tweets I also have encountered a cancer experience while writing this post. Since starting this blog post my Dad has been diagnosed with cancer, stage 3, 6-9 months to live. There were previous health issues and the physicians have conducted some test and have developed new concerns which required new test.

Also, he got sick Friday and was admitted to the hospital. In a gala of clinical care one doctor found it necessary to share the results of one test and notified my parents of the outcome.  Due to some complications this case is not treatable with surgery; the physician notified him that he would be working with him to provide the best, ‘quality of life’ care t hat he could manage. Of course this has hit the family like a weight of bricks. If you would like to read another blog concerning this subject and my first post check-out this link (http://thedaythingschanged.blogspot.com). This is a new blog I’ve started and anticipate including my observations and thoughts as things develop. Unfortunately many of you have dealt with this disease in some form or fashion which might make it hard for some of you to follow the next blog posts, but I appreciate your support of this blog, even if you can not stand to read the other one.

Another point, October is Breast Cancer Awareness month in the United States. Ladies please take care of yourself and have the appropriate tests. Gentlemen always care for your ladies, but give a little more effort during the month of October and ensure they get an appointment for the examination.  ;-)

As always, I am thankful for the time you spend reading my posts.