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Sunday, November 16, 2014

Honoring Our Vets - a Thanksgiving Short Story



Honoring Our Vets
By Glenda Reynolds

I hear a splash in the water which rouses me from my sleep as I lay sprawled out on the back porch. What a beautiful, tranquil autumn day. The big fish must be feasting on little bait fish. The ripples travel the length of the bayou, splashing against tupelo and cypress trees. At least I wasn’t having bad dreams, fueled by memories of my military service in a foreign hot land. The humans call it Afghanistan. I call it hot-as-hell-with-no-doggy-bone-land.
They say that I am the best breed for military operations that involved parachuting out of military planes, secret operations, and sniffing out IEDs. I’m a Belgian Malinois which some humans mistake me for a regular German shepherd. My fine, wiry coat is a more universal color with black shading to my face; this sets me apart from that breed. We are also lighter and stubbier. I heard that there are some Malinois dogs that guard what the humans call the White House. If it’s true, it’s because crazy humans can sneak in there too easily. They finally got wise to my kind.
My handler and my beloved master is Gene LaBlanc. We served together in Afghanistan. We used to play find-the-tennis-ball games in the early days of my training. Next I found things that were scented with explosive materials. Soon all of those games stopped. I was only finding the scents, and I was good at it. But there was always a slight chance that I could miss one. It was just such a time that I missed one that my master was injured very badly. He lost one of his legs above the knee. A helicopter took him far away to heal. He would later petition the military to adopt me into his home.
After many months of being away from my master, we have been finally reunited. I now live in the Louisiana bayou with Gene and Marie LaBlanc.  Sometimes I fall asleep on the couch with Gene. He suffers terrible nightmares about things that happened over there in that dry desert land. He whimpers and moans. I cuddle close to him, placing my paw on him to wake him up to the land of the living. He is grateful to have me with him as I am to have him.
“What would I do without my Zagnut?” he would ask me.
“Wuff!” is my only reply as I look him in the eyes with my tail wagging. I know just what to say and how to say it.
Gene occasionally helps his LeBlanc brothers trap alligators for a living. It is a family tradition on the bayou and helps put meat on the table too. It is almost as exciting as dodging Taliban bullets. It is a little difficult to manage a boat or haul gators in while wearing a prosthetic leg, but Gene does just fine. I am just bursting with pride. There goes my tail again.
An old-timer has come to our house to talk to Gene. They enjoy smoking on the front porch in the late morning. The sound of creaky rocking chairs accompanies stories of days gone by. The two of them walk over to a covered flatbed hauler. The old man pulls the tarp off to reveal a turquoise and white Indian motorcycle.
“I want to give you this motorcycle in honor of your years of service to our country. And I would love it if you would ride it in the Thanksgiving Day parade this Thursday with the other vets,” said the old man in a feeble voice, obviously choked up.
My master is overcome with emotion as he reaches out to touch the chrome handlebars, the shiny gas tank, and the fringed buckskin seat covers. His eyes are leaking which causes me some concern.
“I have never owned anything so fine in my life,” he said as he wipes tears away. “Yes, sir, you can bet I will be at the parade,” replies Gene. “You can also bet that Zagnut will be there for his years of service too.” I stare intently at both men as if I understand that they are talking about me. I stand with my front legs on the flatbed as I sniff the air near the motorcycle. Gene watches me sit back down, satisfied that the motorcycle is safe. “No bombs here,” he says with a smile.


The two men shake hands and then give each other a quick heartfelt hug. They unload the motorcycle and park it in the over-sized shed. The old-timer gives one more look before he heads home.
As promised, Gene and I are seated on the sparkling Indian motorcycle as we await our turn to ride in the parade. Many vets young and old welcome us into their traditional Thanksgiving procession. We finally get underway. Many are delighted at seeing me, proudly seated behind my master. The children point and wave and call out to me. There is so much to see as we ride down the long street. It makes me dizzier than a mutt chasing his own tail.
The parade may be over, but the day just got better. Gene and I ride into the local park where there are many Thanksgiving banquet tables set up. My master and his mate, Marie, sit at the head of a table laden with a big roasted bird and casseroles. I caught the scent of fruit pies, fresh from the oven. “What about you?” you ask. I am given my own little doggy cornucopia with all kinds of doggy treats, chewy bones, bacon Beggin’ Strips, and plush toys. You name it, it was in there. I remember all those days eating survival food in the desert with not a doggy bone in sight. It is like I won the lottery. This is the best day of my life.  And to think, I helped fight for the freedom of these people here today. Hoo-rah!









Monday, October 13, 2014

Women of the World, You Have Worth...

To the woman of the world, a message just for you today.
Enjoy and receive it in your heart.






Saturday, September 13, 2014

Encouragement in Difficult Times


I came from a family that is typical of many American families in that most of my childhood was spent growing up with only one parent. Peoples’ view of marriage and divorce changed in the late sixties and early seventies due to the “sexual revolution”. It was easier to get a divorce.  I can remember when my mother would date. I told her that a multi-strand necklace was good for her to wear on her date since it covered up her low-cut blouse. She laughed at me. If I could go back in time, I would’ve stopped her from marrying my father when she was at the tender age of sixteen. What were they all thinking? One thing was for sure: I was determined not to make the same mistakes as she did.
How does a child find a good influence for life when they are a product of a broken home? Fortunately, I made the choice to spend my high school years on a Christian campus. Though I look back at how very strict the institution was, I needed that structure for my life much like a soldier needs boot camp. It was there that I saw for myself how a family was supposed to love and communicate with each other. At the same time I grieved in my heart when I walked away from mail call without letters, and I grieved over the state of my broken family. But making the choice to live on the campuses of my Christian high school and Bible college were the best choices that I made early in life.
Marrying my husband was my next best choice. He came from a very small but close knit family. These people were the next ones that taught me the real meaning of a family.
It is now many years later. We live in world where information and communication flash across the globe at the speed of light. Many people wish to change our way of life on many levels and it isn’t for our good. We have many adversaries both in our homeland and abroad. Yet in these dark times, I keep myself focused on positive things:
  • I stopped listening to secular radio. Instead, I stay tuned to my favorite Christian radio station at my work place and in my vehicle that broadcasts music with positive messages by popular Christian artists. The DJs and listeners who call in say words of encouragement at all times of the day and evening. I found myself compelled to support this station financially since they are only listener supported. I am helping to give other people hope through my support.
  • I stream sermons about the Grace Revolution that is changing lives. No condemnation, only resting in the finished work of my Lord and Savior.
  • I also stopped listening to much of the news on television. Yet, I keep myself informed about headline news.
  • And lastly, I get involved with my favorite writing group on the side. I’ve come to know some of my fellow writers, and I’m blessed to know them. On a side note, when I started writing my first novel, I explored my own feelings regarding one of my siblings and my father. I used these feelings to write about both the antagonist and one of the protagonists in my story. I found this gave me an emotional release from feelings that had been pent up for years.

I began by talking about family. I will end by saying that family isn’t only defined by flesh and blood. Family is made up of people of like minds and one heart. 

Monday, August 11, 2014

Lose a Job, Gain a Garden



    

After three and a half years as a Bookkeeper with the same employer, one would think that a person has job security in a mom and pop company, right? Wrong! Especially if your employer’s religious beliefs violates your own religious beliefs. Add to this scenario that the employer does a good deal of business with people of their own religious persuasion. The fact that you are a regular American who has always celebrated Christmas (and Easter) is no longer valid once you step into your employer’s office, at least in their eyes. No poinsettias, no Christmas cards, and no decorations are allowed in this work place. This is one strike against you. If a friend of the employer is looking for other work, a position that you currently occupy, this could be another strike against you. It was in my case.

Let’s back up a bit before we finish the story. I had a good marriage through my twenties and early thirties. It wasn’t until we decided to relocate to my husband’s childhood stomping grounds that reality hit. We had no friends and no family in our new surroundings. My husband was in heaven as we lived on the Chesapeake Bay, but I was in hell. What good did it do to appreciate the awesome beauty around us, to hear the Canadian geese, the seagulls, and to watch the beautiful sunsets over the bay when we didn’t have jobs? I feared that we would get evicted. We paid our rent with credit cards. My relationship with my husband changed. We lost the intimacy we once had, and we drifted apart. I began to yell at him instead of having a friendly heart to heart discussion. Finally, I found a job at a trucking company. One day I went into my bosses’ office and cried and told him how bad my marriage was. He just listened until I was done crying, unable to give me any advice. I came to work with chest pains; I was experiencing a panic attack. At the urging of my coworkers, I checked myself into the emergency room. An uncontrollable emotional bout of crying came over me as I was connected to the heart monitor. The doctor prescribed antidepressants. I don’t remember taking a single one. But after getting those pills, I was determined to make it out of the pit I was in without relying on drugs.

I believe that a person has to look inward at his own self-worth before he or she can be successful. The definition of self-worth: the sense of one’s own value or worth as a person; self-esteem; self-respect. I am a firm believer that a “whole person” seeks wellness spiritually, physically and psychologically. I mentally separated myself in my thoughts from my husband in order to heal myself and the relationship. Another step in the right direction was joining a weight loss program which proved to be very successful. When the pounds came off, the confidence returned. When the confidence returned, my attitudes changed. When my attitudes changed, I was more successful in my employment. This was a difficult time in my life, not only for my marriage and my search for good employment, but we also cared for my father-in-law who was in poor health. He lived with us until his passing.

We relocated again soon after the death of my father-in-law. We decided to live in the Florida Panhandle. Job wise that may have been a big mistake, but God was watching over us. I took a job as a bookkeeper in a sign shop owned by a husband and wife. They appeared very professional. They had to be since they did business with companies on the beach that had large bank accounts.  But I slowly became aware of their religious persuasion and the “other” people they did business with. I was even given religious tracts to take home. What was most entertaining was to hear the Misses use very scathing dialogue to the Mister when something displeased her. Her tone was like acid.

The rest of the employees in the room would jokingly say, “Brrrr! It’s awfully cold in here all of a sudden,” as we shivered in our seats. The Misses would leave the office.

The Mister would say, “Here I am, a shell of a man,” as we laughed with him.

Yes, there were times that it was nice to work with them. Still, there were other times that I wondered what I was doing there. I really wanted an excuse to find another job. But up until then it was the only employer that I had stayed with the longest since we moved to the Panhandle.

Then out of the blue it happened. One day I was approached by Mister and Misses employer and they told me that I was being terminated. They even gave me a sizable severance pay. Instead of lashing out at them, I thanked them for the opportunity to work for them. I had nothing but good things to say about them (at the time). The Misses did a fake crying spell as if I heaped fiery coals of goodness on her head. They stood there at my desk to watch me as I gathered up my personal belongings, as if I would steal anything or do something out of spite. It was later that I found out that they hired a very good friend of theirs to take my position. To my delight, she only lasted a couple of weeks.

Here we are, back where we left off. I was unemployed, but I kept a good attitude. Up until then, I didn’t own a cell phone. I finally bought a pay-as-you-go phone. It proved to help me in my job search. When I wasn’t job hunting, I considered landscaping the area outside my bedroom and bathroom window. It was a plain grassy area that ended at a privacy fence. The idea to spend money on plants in order to landscape sounds crazy when a household income has stopped coming in. But I kept my focus on two things: to plant a new garden and to find a new job. Why sit around and be useless when I can focus some positive energy into something beautiful? I purchased some Blue Point Junipers, a rose bush, berry colored Wave petunias, Yaupon holly, mulch, pavers and a statue of a sleeping Cupid sitting on a globe. I labored as much out in the Florida heat as I did scouring the city for employment. In planting my garden, I saw immediate results. The junipers, the rose bush, and the Yaupon holly were the “bones” of my garden, while the petunias and the Cupid took center stage. I recorded my progress with my camera as I did all of my gardening projects.

Meanwhile, I visited the unemployment office. At least there was the internet and a copier/fax machine available to use. While there, I happened upon an advertisement for an accounting position. A temporary agency placed a job opening through the unemployment office. What are the chances of that happening? The job opening was for a franchise home office in the hospitality industry. An interview was given, the longest one in my life. It was three hours, but then that seems to be the standard there. I got the job! I was only unemployed ONE WEEK. I didn’t even have time to collect unemployment.

When I look back at what should have been devastating to my household income and to my self-worth, I kept my focus on positive things. I kept busy. In the end, losing that job was the best thing that ever happened to me. I now worked in an atmosphere that was free from harassment, both religiously and verbally (no foul language). My last place of employment had me working in a hot warehouse while paint fumes seeped past the doorway into my office space. In my new job, I made more money, received paid healthcare, and had a beautiful office space with an atrium. And best of all, I had a better boss and better coworkers, meaning that they were the type of people that a person could form lifetime friendships with. Although, like many women, I still struggle with my weight; I probably will for the rest of my life. I consider my marriage to be a healthy one, although there are still some intimacy issues. But who doesn’t have them? We are both hard working people who share a lot of interests. We make occasional dates outside of home, and enjoy mixed martial art events on TV together. Common interests and a love for God help give us a healthy relationship. As one Christian acquaintance put it, “Your husband is God’s gift, and His gift hasn’t changed”. That was my neighbor giving me a pep talk when I was going through a dry spell. My husband was and forever will be my best friend and the love of my life.



I acknowledge that God has provided for me my soul mate/spouse, my employer, and all of the things that I enjoy. I would like to finish by quoting Proverbs 3:5 & 6, the Living Bible translation, “If you want favor with both God and man, and a reputation for good judgment and common sense, then trust the Lord completely; don’t ever trust yourself. In everything you do, put God first, and He will direct you and crown your efforts with success.”

*****



Afterword

All of "Lose a Job, Gain a Garden" is a true account in my life, although I have omitted names and specific places. I cannot take full credit for my accomplishments to date, for my current employment or for being published - I give the credit to God for guiding my steps in my journey through life. Although I had a background fraught with deep personal strife and emotional pain, I'm pleased to say that my journey of healing is continuing to this day. I still pray for healing and restoration for my family members, but I have learned to let go of my own bitterness and unforgiveness in order to be a whole person - I'm still a 'work in progress' at this point, but it improves every day with God's help. My biggest supporter is my husband, who was adopted at a very young age and has given me the unique impression that even if other people turned away from me, God has never done so. My husband is proof that God continues to bless me by bringing wonderful people into my life. It makes the journey of life that much sweeter.


   


Stephenie Baskerville
Business Development Coordinator at CTT Inc.

     My favorite bible verses (and these are two that literally saved my life) are John 16:33 and Joshua 1:9. Each of them talks about being courageous, because there will be trials in life that we will face, but with God, nothing's impossible.
      The news about Robin Williams's suicide is pretty devastating for me - I always admired how, even in the darkest times, he had such an amazing gift to make people laugh. It's a great loss for the world when someone with the talent and the ability to bring joy to so many people is suffering so much that they take their own life. But I think this highlights the need to stop the stigma of mental illness, because we've all been given great talents to use for the benefit of society and if we can't fight our way through our pain, we can't live up to our full potential. My heart goes out to his family.





             Rejoice Denhere
             Independent Writing and Editing Professional | HootSuite Ambassador EMEA

Glenda, your story gives me so much hope - you have no idea. I'm in the group and already I'm experiencing healing. God bless you. 

 



Sunday, July 27, 2014

Giant Tales Lava Storms in the Neighborhood - My Short Story "Flight of Hope"



FLIGHT OF HOPE 

When it came to being an entrepreneur, Jimmy Jenkins made it look too easy. He was known for starting successful auto repair shops, selling them, and starting all over again. That in itself is quite an accomplishment. But he didn’t stop there. He owned and piloted a private plane in which he made money flying clients across the country. He had even volunteered his time and money when natural disasters happened such as flying supplies to Haiti or delivering a tanker of gasoline to hurricane Sandy victims. Jimmy does not think of himself as a hero. He has acknowledged that he has been so blessed by the Almighty that he must pay it forward to those in need.

Although Jimmy and his wife Diane were in a financial position to retire, Jimmy found it hard to live the quiet life. There were always more deals to be made and more places to fly. On that note, he agreed to fly clients to Seattle, Washington. Diane’s mother who lived in Seattle was having her ninetieth birthday; naturally Diane wanted to fly out with Jimmy and his client to visit her mother.

It was a beautiful cloudless day when pilot Jimmy Jenkins flew his plane from Atlanta to Seattle. He landed the plane at a private airport that bordered the Mount Rainier State Park. To Diane’s delight, Jimmy had reserved a cabin for the two of them near the park. The snow covered Mount Rainier was picturesque from their little haven.

The blissful night was interrupted by a series of earth tremors which became increasingly more violent than the ones preceding them. Jimmy turned on the radio in the wee hours of the morning. ABC News was broadcasting a special report saying that reports were coming in from around the globe of various volcanic activities.

Diane was now awake and came out in her robe. That woman could sleep through anything, Jimmy thought. She walked into the kitchen to make some coffee. As she filled the coffee maker with water, she looked out of the kitchen window at Mount Rainier. Ash and steam were billowing out from the top of the mountain.

“Holy smokes! Jimmy, come see this.” Jimmy was at her side in two seconds.

“Land sakes! Diane, we need to leave as soon as possible. Forget the coffee. We’ll have breakfast someplace else far from here.”

They dressed and packed in record time. The suitcase was literally thrown in the plane. Jimmy fired up the engine. Soon they were in flight and gaining altitude. While Jimmy concentrated on the instrumentation, Diane gazed at the state park below. Her mouth dropped opened as she saw some of the earth opening up, cabins crumbling apart, and trees falling across the highway; but the worst part was yet to come. The little Cessna Skyhawk continued to climb higher in the sky. More earth could be seen which showed more destruction, similar to where they had just been. The ground looked like it was experiencing a major earthquake as it shook and buckled before their eyes. Large fissures opened in the highways and continued across the valleys and into the mountains. Telephone poles wobbled and collapsed like toothpicks strewn on a table.

There was a brief and eerie moment of silence except for the hum of the engine. Suddenly Mount Rainier exploded open as tons of smoke and ash filled the air. Everything within a ten mile radius was either disintegrated or carried away on the ground by the blast. The wildlife that was not disintegrated was killed by the sulfur dioxide gas. The blast zone extended twenty miles from Mount Rainier, snapping trees in half with a force of twenty-five megatons of TNT.

They were in flight for ten minutes when the cloud of volcanic ash enveloped them and ultimately clogged the plane’s engine. The Cessna sputtered as Jimmy tried to find a place to land. There was no highway fit to land on. He saw a good sized lake that would have to make due. He came about in order to make his approach while backing off the throttle. While the plane skimmed the surface, it hit a bolder which sent it into several cartwheels before it landed upside down in the water.

Jimmy unfastened his seatbelt and that of Diane’s. She wasn’t responding. With Diane under one arm, he paddled to the surface and brought her to the shore. She was still unresponsive. After a minute of mouth to mouth resuscitation, Diane coughed violently while Jimmy sat her up. A few of the people who lived in the lake homes ran up to them after having witnessed the crash landing.

“Is she going to be alright?” inquired a young twenty-something black woman with long hair.

“I think so. She would’ve let me know by now if she wasn’t. We just need to get ourselves dry and warm if it’s possible.”

“I’m Bonnie by the way,” the woman said as she extended her hand in greeting. “My home has survived both the earthquake and the volcano blast but not without damage. You are welcome to stay with me until we figure a way to get out of here.”

“Thank you for your hospitality.”

An angry looking man in his thirties was standing outside of his house observing the newcomers. “You better not be feds or so help me God…”

“Back off, Jerod. They are just regular folks in need.”

“Well, I need for them to stay off my property. I’m sure that looting will be going on big time after this,” he said with the sweep of his hand. His black and white pitbull growled at his side.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure they aren’t interested in your marijuana farm that you’re growing. And keep that hell hound away from here!” Jerod gave them all a dirty look and retreated back into his house.

Jimmy stood up and headed back into the water to get supplies from the plane. Bonnie and Diane started to protest. He soon proved that it was a good idea. He brought an inflatable boat, rope, and flares with him. These were stored on Bonnie’s fenced property.

Bonnie had been listening to her ham radio of the worldwide earthquake that had occurred. Many reports of inactive volcanoes had suddenly become active at the same time. Thousands of people were either missing or dead. Scientists were already predicting a volcanic winter caused by the ash in the atmosphere that would lower temperatures and last for two to four years. They were already saying that a third of the world’s population would die of famine. Many were now in danger of enormous tsunamis caused by the quakes. The entire world was under martial law. Food hording would be dealt with forcibly by police. Looters would be shot on site.

“There is so much chaos,” Bonnie exclaimed as she placed her hands on her forehead. “How can they enforce martial law on such a global scale? They couldn’t even handle the aftermath of hurricane Katrina here in the states! What makes them think this will be any different?” she asked.

“The fact is, they won’t be able to handle it. There are more civilians than there are military or police. I hope you have some sort of gun because we’re going to need it,” replied Jimmy.

“I have some rifles in a gun cabinet. My dad collected a few. He was employed by the state park many years ago. He taught me how to shoot at an early age which I’m now thankful for.” Bonnie opened the gun cabinet to reveal a twenty-two rifle, a shotgun, and a Winchester rifle. Jimmy looked at Bonnie with a new admiration and respect.

“Let’s hope that we won’t have to use these on people,” said Jimmy.

The rest of the evening, Bonnie stayed glued to her ham radio, a hobby handed down by her father. More and more reports were coming in about whole cities that were destroyed by the quake. The fault line from Illinois to Memphis had lengthened to the Gulf Coast. The continental U.S. was now in two separate land masses. The only way to get back to the East coast was either by plane or by boat. Bonnie continued to turn the dial to pick up radio transmissions closer to home. She came to find out lahars or volcanic mud flows were making its way out from Mount Rainer. These were caused by the eruption, mixing hot ash with the buildup of ice and snow; it is equivalent to cement running down a cement mixer. The force of the mudslides was strong enough to move mature trees, cars or even buildings. There were a couple of news helicopters that were circling the blast area and reporting the progress of the flow.

“Jimmy, we need to do something before the mudslide makes its way into Seattle. We need to get my mother out of harm’s way,” Diane implored her husband.

“I know, honey. Let’s inflate that raft and take a few supplies. Anyone who wants to come along may do so. We’ll get to a highway and try to make it into Seattle.”

“I’m coming with you,” Bonnie said. “All of the wildlife is dead. My food supply is low. I’d be in a pinch if I didn’t come with you.”

Just as Jimmy inflated the raft on the shore, he was accosted by Jerod who held a hand gun pointed at Jimmy’s head. “I think I’ll take that raft off your hands, mister. After all, man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.”

Just then, Jerod felt the cold, hard steel of a shotgun in between his shoulder blades. “Are you anxious to meet your Maker, son?” asked Diane. “Just throw that hog leg in the lake like a nice boy.” Jerod complied.

Once Diane lowered her gun, Jerod’s pitbull stood growling and baring his teeth just a few yards away.

 “Get ‘em, Spike!” ordered Jerod.

 The dog started to attack Diane. A loud boom was heard from the Winchester which blew a hole through the dog. He somersaulted and stopped in a lifeless heap. Bonnie stepped out of hiding from beyond her fenced property carrying the Winchester. Jerod seethed with anger. All he could do was make vain threats.

“I’ll see that you pay for that, Bonnie. I’ve had it with you. Watch your back.”

“Always have,” she snickered.

Jimmy, Diane and Bonnie gathered their food and emergency supplies into Hefty bags and placed them in the raft. Two slim tree branches were taken to guide them down the lake since they had no oars. Once they made it to the other end of the lake near the highway, they traveled on foot. They came across a gas station that had recently burned down after the gas tanks ruptured by the quake. An abandoned semi-truck was parked along the road with the keys still in the ignition. Jimmy climbed in the driver’s seat while the Diane sat in the passenger’s seat. Bonnie sat on a crate in the middle. They could now see at ground level all of the real devastation: dead game animals, homes demolished, and forests leveled. They could see some trees moving and going down which meant that they were seeing the mud slide in action. They needed to speed up and warn people in Seattle. Jimmy accelerated as best he could while dodging crevices in the road as well as other obstructions.

Jimmy drove right to the closest fire station. He told the firemen to alert the public of the oncoming mudslides that would be there in a matter of minutes. The fireman got in their trucks and each took a section of city to call out warnings using megaphones. Volcanic ash fluttered on the streets like gray, dirty snow when vehicles drove by.  

Jimmy drove the semi-truck to the retirement home where Diane’s mother, Helen, sat on the porch sipping her sweet tea.

“Mama, we came to get you out of the city before those mudslides get here from Mount Rainer.”

“Do you mind if I bring some of my friends?”

“Make it quick, Mama. We need to go.”

Helen went into the parlor and gathered some of the other seniors for a road trip. They dropped their cards on the table and picked up their canes and walkers. The seniors were helped into the tall trailer to sit on some crates. The arrangement was not comfortable or convenient, yet they were excited to be out on an adventure.

Then just as he thought it couldn’t get worse, Jimmy heard on the static sounding radio that Satsop Nuclear Power Plant to the Southwest was very damaged by the earthquake. It was leaking radiation closer to the coast. Minutes later the news anchor stated that the same power plant had just been washed away by a tsunami.

A tsunami? gulped Jimmy. That would only mean that it would come up into the Puget Sound water way and flood Seattle. And sure enough, the water started to rise over the banks of the city. As the ocean tried to claim the land it was invading, it swept people and vehicles up and around buildings. It almost resembled a ride in a water park, only this one was deadly. Jimmy tried to steer the semi-truck even though it didn’t do any good. The seniors in the trailer were being shaken up pretty bad, but at least they were dry for now. They were being swept out to sea with the strong current of the tsunami. They all stared in horror, afraid of colliding with pieces of buildings and vehicles of all kinds. An occasional person crashed up against the windshield and floated away. Debris from the nuclear power plant could be seen floating nearby.

Hello radiation, Jimmy thought. A giant wave sent the debris crashing into the windshield of the semi-truck. God, please help me!

Suddenly Jimmy was jolted awake during the Sunday sermon at First Methodist Church in Atlanta. The minister was preaching from the Book of Revelation. Upon seeing that it was only a dream, Jimmy quietly exclaimed, “Hallelujah!” This got the attention of several church goers as they turned to give him a stern look. He reached over with his arm to hug Diane to himself as he settled in to hear the rest of the sermon.

 

~ The End~


Here is a 30 second video of my short story, Flight of Hope in the anthology Giant Tales Lava Storm in the Neighborhood.

For sale at Amazon


Click on the You Tube logo to view it larger at You Tube.

Saturday, June 14, 2014

Royalty in the Pack (excerpt)

This is my first attempt at writing about werewolves. It is different, for sure. This was written for the Linkedin group Writer's 750 short story challenge "June Orphans".


Royalty in the Pack

By Glenda Reynolds

The royal coach that carried Lady Catherine and Princess Margaret raced against the furious blizzard which came fast and hard. Negotiating mountain passes became more and more treacherous as it proved to be their undoing. Though the horses were sure-footed, the wheels of the carriage started to slide in icing conditions. The trip came to an end when the carriage smashed into a rocky face of a mountain. The horses, free of their restraints, galloped through the blinding snow back to their home: Camelot.  Lady Catherine and the coachman died instantly. The little princess, though bruised and bloodied, lay unconscious. A pack of wolves discovered the disheveled coach with its occupants. The coachman was flung several feet from the carriage. The wolves discovered his body first. The hungry beasts pulled the unconscious girl through the window and onto the fresh snow. Her still warm body smelled very appealing to the pack. They began to fight over her. The sound of gunfire scattered the wolves in all directions.
The hooded figure picked the silent girl up, flung her over a shoulder, and proceeded into the woodland. The figure with her heavy burden trekked on for a few miles until she came to a cabin in the woods. A carved wooden gnome stood near the cabin as if to keep watch. It had wolf-like features. 
  
(To be continued...) 

 

Friday, June 13, 2014

You Might Be A Writer If...

You might want to be a writer if…
  • Your dinner conversation is about your latest plot.
  • Your characters are your best friends.
  • You pitch to three agents who all want the completed manuscript–that you haven’t written yet.
  • You insist all your family and friends read this draft, even though they’ve already read the last three drafts–so they can compare and tell you how much better it is.
  • You have a quote for every occasion from the brilliant dialogue of your characters.
  • You have a million story ideas until you sit down to write.
  • You are working on your 27th draft and still don’t know how to fill in the middle
  • You have 38 rejections and counting.
  • The only people who understand you are others who want to be writers.
  • One criticism wipes out a dozen praises.
  • You measure time by the number of words you’ve written.
  • Your favorite authors wrote “how to” book on writing.
  • Your critique group members are on speed dial.
  • You have a collection covering several years of the annual Writer’s Market.

You might be a writer if…
  • You’ve moved your writing beyond most of the items above.
  • Your motivation is money–and you are making some.
  • You consistently spend a set amount of time writing or revising.
  • You ignore rejection.
  • You know when to listen and when to ignore criticism.
  • You don’t allow anyone to cut the “bad scenes or dialogue” out of your story until you know why you wrote it that way.
  • You search for the heart of your story in the good and the bad and the ugly of your writing.
  • You don’t let anyone else define your writing or you as a writer.
  • You are writing for that one person to whom what you write matters, and all the better if that one person multiplies.
  • You stop talking about writing and do writing.

Tuesday, June 3, 2014

Path to Manhood (excerpt)

I am the winner of the May Camelot short story contest held in Linkedin's Writers 750 group. Here is an excerpt:

Path to Manhood

By Glenda Reynolds

After Tristin’s run-in with Delrot the Mongrelfolk, Hamel gave serious thought in preparing his son for what he may face in the future. No son of his should ever be afraid to venture alone within their village of Rootspire, let alone Willow Forest which had become his playground. Now that Tristin had turned eight years old, Hamel decided to spend extra time with his son. He began teaching him what manhood was all about. He instilled in Tristin the four most important things to aspire to do on the path to becoming a man: live pure, speak truth, right the wrongs, and honor the king.
Hamel set aside a day each week when he and Tristin would go out in the wilderness together. They would sleep out in the open and hunt with a bow and arrow. Tristin learned survival techniques. Though he didn’t want to, Hamel taught Tristin to fight with a knife. Tristin became quite good at it, so much so that Hamel stifled a laugh to see his son crouched, ready to defend himself. He was so adorable. Hamel and Tristin began to bond like never before during their outings together.
It was King’s Day in honor of King Arthur of neighboring Camelot. The village of Rootspire was a mass of curiosity seekers who had come to see the out of town players and vendors. There were puppeteers, “Cure All” medicine vendors, trinkets for the ladies, leather goods for the men folk, fresh baked goods, and last of all, some knights of the Round Table sword fighting for the onlookers. One of the knights took his helmet off as he addressed the crowd. He had wavy blonde hair with a rugged yet handsome face.
“Can we have a volunteer? Is there anyone in the humble village of Rootspire who can best me?” asked Eric the knight.
“Go on Papa,” said Tristin. “I know that you can fight pretty well. Show ‘em what you’ve got!”
Not wanting to appear cowardly in front of his son, Hamel agreed. He stepped forward and said, “You have one here.”
“Okay, looks like we have our volunteer. What’s your name, sir?”
“Hamel.”
“Farmer Hamel has agreed to take me on. Let’s hear it for Hamel.” The town’s people applauded him. The second knight, Gerard, placed chainmaille and a helmet on Hamel; the young farmer tried acquainting himself with the heavy sword.
The two men stood facing each other as Gerard yelled, “Begin!”
Eric and Hamel advanced to the center as the sound of clashing steel filled the air. Eric was holding back to see what kind of moves Hamel was capable of. In doing so, Eric’s feet were kicked out from under him. He found himself looking up at Hamel who was hovering above him with his sword point-blank in Eric’s face. The crowd zealously applauded. Not to be outdone, Eric whipped the sword out of his face with his own as he rolled to right himself. Eric decided to make an example of the lowly farmer. His attacks were so swift and accurate. By the time it was over, Hamel was lying on the ground; his sword was kicked out of reach. He was just glad to have survived the ordeal.

“Do you yield?” asked Eric.

(to be continued...)