The Unstoppable (Chapter Three)

The Unstoppable

Chapter 3: Making Friends Everywhere I Go

Cold, stiff, confused.

That was exactly how I returned to the world, left that way after four hours sleeping on the unforgiving park bench. It had been a sleep haunted by dreams. Some of them had been nightmares, but most were of normal life, the life I'd led. School, work, Kate, Texas. All gone now, it seemed.

I lurched into a sitting position, staring at the sky. All was shrouded by cloud cover. A light mist was raining on me, but I hardly noticed. For a moment, I had the strange, distracted thought to simply leap into the air and soar away.

I can fly.

The thought made no sense, and yet, there it was. Shaking my head, I rose to my feet, I needed a little time to figure all this out, somewhere I could think. I began wandering the streets, eager to stretch my legs.

Despite the rain and the cold, the city still breathed. I saw the homeless sheltered under eaves, cars bustling down the dark streets, and every once in awhile, an open shop with lights spilling onto the pavement through the windows. The light illuminated the rain. I wanted a diner, somewhere I could get a cup of coffee and a warm place to sit.

October 12, 2008, a Sunday. That was the date that greeted me from the newspaper dispenser outside an old corner drug store. I'd watched as an elderly man changed it out for yesterday's and then peered close to the condensation covered glass. I'd needed something concrete, to prove it was real.

April 3, 2006. That was yesterday, the carwreck. A Monday. I could hardly make sense of all that was happening to me. Too many odd details. Why didn't anybody stop for us on the bridge? Why didn't the trucker seem to even see us? Why was I in Chicago? Why was I in a coma for two years? Why, why, why. The questions would drive me mad if I let them.

I'd found a wallet in my jeans, but there was only 14 bucks inside. No credit card. Somehow I would have to get back out to Maryland, check all the hospitals. But then what if she was here in Illinois somewhere herself? I wanted to bang my head against a wall, it was all so disorienting. I didn't want to think about what I would do if I couldn't find her anywhere.

Nor did I want to think about the driver's license I'd found, for a Mr. Thomas Anderson, one with a picture of my face and the wrong birthday.

All in all, it took me nearly an hour's wandering to find a place to pass the morning. I felt like I'd explored half the city. The lights glowed onto the sidewalk just like everywhere else, lighting up the little diner in the night like a lantern. It drew me in just like a moth to flame.

The second I walked inside, a thousand pairs of eyes seemed to land on me, despite the fact that there were hardly any customers at this hour.

It was subtle, but everyone in the restaurant stopped what they were doing to take a good long look at me. There was only one person at the counter, a heavyset, older man in a cheap suit. He look a long sip of coffee before turning to size me up, but when he did, he nearly fell out of his barstool. As it was, he spilled coffee all over himself. Something about me seemed to startle him. To his credit, he recovered quickly, smiling briefly before reaching to the napkin dispenser.

A couple at a booth finished their bites and a shared a few words of conversation first. Their glances roved between me, and the old man, as if his offbeat reaction were the most interesting thing to happen to them in a long time. A younger blond girl at a table looked at me, began fiddling mindlessly with her cell phone and then turned back to gawk at me with a nervous air.

Everything continued as it was, but it also, for all intents and purposes, had came to a little bit of a halt. I did my best to shake it off, yet another strange occurance in a long, ongoing string of strange occurances.

I took my seat quickly, feeling fairly uncomfortable. The cup of coffee I ordered wasn't anything amazing but it took the chill out of my bones. The waitress, who spent most of her time behind the counter, had also seemed to be looking at me oddly as she slid my cup across the sticky tabletop. This was going from odd to downright irritating.

As I sat waiting for the sun to rise and an incredible plan to come to mind, I studied the room around me a little bit. There were nine people in the room besides me, as far as I could tell. Three employees plus six patrons.

All nine took time out of their busy morning to look at me at some point. Most took a couple of glances, as if they'd never seen a guy drink coffee before and it was an amazing phenomenon they all wanted to see for themselves, but they were afraid of scaring me away.

All nine took time to look at me at some point. Most took only a couple glances here and there. It was as if they'd never seen a guy drink coffee before and it was some amazing phenomenon. They all wanted to see it for themselves, but they were afraid of scaring me away.

I pictured a nature show, with one of those softspoken hosts whispering into the camera. "And here we have the rare creature known as the Adam. Careful now! We don't want to startle him. He might leave before he finishes his coffee!"

The cook came out from behind the grease pits or whatever in the back, wiping his hands on his apron. The busboy nearly dropped a glass. Cell Phone Girl walked by three or four times, pretending to need something in my corner of the diner.

It didn't take me long to get fed up. As soon as I finished my coffee, I made for the counter. As I waited for the bill to be tabulated, the old man at the counter gave me another glance and spoke. He was sweating, I could see it.

"Awfully cold weather to be running around in just a t-shirt like that, iddn't it?"

"I suppose it is, but I think I'll be alright." I turned back to the waitress to get my change, ready to book it.

"I don't suppose, you've got a minute to chat? I'll buy you another cup of coffee, maybe some breakfast." He hesitated, as if he wanted to say something more.

Tempting as food sounded, I was way too uncomfortable to stay a minute longer. "No thanks," I said quickly, trying to make my tone as firm as possible "I've got somewhere to be."

"Alrighty, son. Suit yourself. Have a good one." And then he mumbled something to himself that sounded a lot like "good luck dealing with them "

The bell was jangling as I pushed my way back out into the rain, as eager for fresh air now as I'd been for warmth before I'd found the place. Before the door could even close, a hand gripped my forearm tightly.

"We need to talk."

It was the couple. The woman had me by the arm, seemingly with no intent to ever let go. The man stood behind her, looking threatening. I'd taken no notice of either inside, but now that I looked closer, both were strangely dressed. All black leather. And they were both wearing sunglasses, despite the inclement weather.

"Come back inside with us," the woman intoned with a hint of an accent I couldn't recognize. "There are some things you need to know."

I didn't like their tone, or the way I was being pushed around. Something about them just bugged me. "I don't have to go anywhere with you," I growled irritably as I yanked my arm away.

As I freed myself, her arm spontaneously caught fire. I thought I saw my own and hand and forearm burning for a split second but then it was gone.

While they dealt with the mysterious fire, I took off, jogging at medium speed. I didn't want to attract too much attention to myself nor make an exit too slowly. Whoever these people were, and whatever that diner was about, I wanted no part of it.

Before I made it a full block, a blackness suddenly passed before my eyes, and a raging wind began to rip at my hair and clothes. The gust grew stronger and stronger till I felt I was about to be lifted from my feet.

As I began to fly into the air, spinning in crazy circles I realized I was trapped in some kind of whirlwind or tornado. It began to move backward along the sidewalk, the way I'd come. Back to the strangers I'd fled.

Six feet off the ground, the tornado dissipated, dumping me roughly to my rear. Right in front of my new friends. The woman wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead, as if she'd just been concentrating on something difficult.

My eyes had to be as wide as saucers. For a moment all I could do was stare.

"Now...can we talk?" the woman asked, sounding a little out of breath. Still the man hadn't spoken. If she had some sort of special power to control tornadoes, I wondered what he could do.

I stood to my feet quickly, heart thudding. I unwittingly unleashed a massive burst of electricity as soon as I arose. A storm of yellow lightning leaped everywhere, the blast knocking all three of us in different directions. It blew out a streetlight above us, popped the tire of a car waiting by the curb, and caused a newspaper dispenser to explode.

Under the cover of falling papers, I dashed across the street, eager to take advantage of the short time I had while they picked themselves up off the ground. Rather than stay out in the open without cover, I made for a high rise office building.

Pushing through heavy glass doors, I found myself in a large atrium, a dizzying tile pattern leading the way to a massive desk. A huge black and white clock stood above it, ticking out the time. The receptionist at the desk could only stare openmouthed as I burst in. I still had my White Sox cap, so my hair wasn't standing on end, but my clothes had burn marks from the lightning.

For a moment we just stared at each other like gunslingers in the old west. Finally our staredown came to a close when I broke away and dashed for the elevator. I heard her calling for security behind me, but it was too late, I was already on the elevator.

It took off with a ding just seconds before my new friends slammed the glass doors open. Turning to the elevator's buttons, I noted there were 40 floors and selected the 36th, hoping that would be random enough to throw them off.

When I stepped out of the elevator, it was clear today was a Sunday. A vast array of empty cubicles and offices stretched out towards massive picture windows that displayed the Chicago skyline and a sky scattered with rainclouds.

I was about to look for a vending machine and a computer with internet access when suddenly one of the windows shattered, spraying glass and debris across the room. I ducked behind a cubicle as the Wonder Twins flew into the room, apparently riding some kind of whirlwind. I didn't get a very good view from my vantage point, but it was clear discretion wasn't in these people's agenda.

This was made all the more clear when they started knocking things around, kicking over walls and shoving desks, sending desk clutter and computer parts flying as they went.

"You may as well come out," the woman called. "We won't hurt you if you surrender, but if you keep insisting on running, Mr. Dekken here is going to have to eliminate you."

I wanted to defend myself, but I wasn't sure how. The lightning only seemed to come out when I was afraid. I thumped my head against the faded gray fabric material of the cubicle, wracking my brain for a way out of this mess.

The way I saw it, I had three options.

1. I could surrender, find out what these crazy people wanted, and probably die. Or get ripped apart in a labratory after countless horrifying experiments...

2. I could try to fight. But my newfound powers, if that's what they were, seemed completely beyond my control. I felt certain if I tried to use it in battle, I would probably die.

3. I could also make a run for it, try and get the heck out of here. The chances of death seemed pretty good, but I liked my chances better with running than anything else.

I would run. I played the thought over and over in my mind as I mentally prepared myself to flee. Suddenly sadness overtook me, seemed to drench my body. It overwhelmed me to the point I could hardly think. Sadness over losing Kate, sadness over what was happening to me, and that I was about to die.

The confusion and depression addled my brain to the point that when I broke cover and ran, I didn't sneak around furniture and plants as had been the plan, I just stood up and flat out booked it for the elevator.

"Enough of this nonsense. Dekken, take him down."

I made it all of ten feet before an energy blast slammed me from behind, and suddenly my body was no more.

The Unstoppable (Chapter Two)

The Unstoppable

Chapter 2: Two Years from Yesterday

White lights.

My eyelids cringed the moment I opened them. I collapsed back into the heavy sleep I'd come from and didn't wake up again for two and a half days.

Once again the harsh glare of fluorescent lights met my eyes as I came to. I fought harder to stay awake this time, struggling against my heavy eyelids, but it was a losing battle. But the second time I only slept for six hours before I woke again.

This time I tried to bolt straight out of the bed I lay in. In my head, I imagined ripping the IV out of my arm, throwing off the blankets covering me and leaping to my feet.

I barely managed to move my neck.

Every muscle in my body seemed weighed down, weak and paralyzed. I tried to speak but all I managed was a hoarse croak. I lay back, trying to remain still and calm, taking stock of the situation.

I was in a hospital bed, alone. There didn't seem to be anyone else around, and I had the room to myself. There was one window, nearby. I could see skyscrapers out the window.

I was alive.

My heart was beating, it thudded with exertion. My lungs were still taking in air as I breathed. I could feel all my limbs, wiggle my toes. I seemed to be intact, even if strangely weak.

And Kate was not here.

I didn't care how I had gotten to Chicago, or why I felt so tired, I only wanted to make sure she was alright.

I looked at the window again, at the buildings towering outside. It looked like mid-afternoon. I imagined standing, putting a hand to the window, and suddenly, I felt it. Not on my hand, or my face, but I could feel the cool of the glass from my bed, for just one second.

Confused, I lifted a hand. It felt heavy, as if it weighed twenty pounds. I slowly touched one hand to the other, neither felt a bit colder. How odd, I thought to myself, but I didn't dwell on it for long.

Everything that had happened seemed like a fading dream now, or a nightmare. An old photograph at the back of a closet, faded and crumbling. It all felt so unreal now, the alignment of the cars, the scent of sea air, and that leap into dark waters. Surely it was all a mistake, surely Kate would walk into the room any minute now and explain everything...

But no, she didn't come. Instead, a nurse walked into the room. She seemed shocked to see me stirring. She dropped the clipboard in her hand and dashed out of the room crying for a doctor. I tried once again to struggle to my feet, and this time I almost made it into a sitting position, but exhaustion came down on me so heavily I laid down again and sleep overtook me yet again.

White lights.

When I woke up this time I was surrounded by a halo of doctors and nurses, murmuring to each other in quiet voices. As soon as my eyes opened, their chattering stopped. One doctor in particular stuck his hand out as I rose myself to a sitting position.

"Good morning, Tom. Jim Shephard. It's good to finally meet you after all this time."

What? Tom?

For a moment I was too stunned to speak. "Huh?" I croaked after a moment of awkward silence. "My name is not Tom."

"Of course it is," he replied, sounding assured. "That's the name we found on your driver's license the day you were brought in here." I didn't respond.

A perplexed look crossed Jim's face. "Do you know what year it is Tom? What do you think your real name is?"

I frowned and was silent again for a moment, and then: "Tom. Of course! Of course, no I know what my name is. I was just confused." Whatever was going on, I decided it would be best to play along for now. The last thing I wanted was to be pegged as crazy. "And of course, it's 2006."

"No...it's 2008. I'm afraid you've been in a coma for the last two and a half years."

The thought was too impossible. I couldn't even process it. "I-no, that can't be! Where's Kate? Is she here?" The question I'd been dying to ask had finally been blurted out. Why wasn't she here? The question kept running in my head over and over.

"Kate who?" You were brought here alone, and you've never had any visitors, I'm afraid." The doctor looked concerned, and most of the doctors had pitying looks on their faces.

I tried to stand. I had to get out of here. I had to find Kate, but my body betrayed me, stiff and useless. "How long till I can be discharged?" I asked, trying not to panic or sound desperate.

Jim Shephard shooed everyone out of the room. He had a wistful, slightly disappointed look on his face now, as if he would regret losing me, and wanted to keep me here for as long as possible.

"We'll need to run some tests. I'll schedule an MRI right away, and we'll also want to get a little blood work done. Also, you might need physical therapy. I'll check back with you in the morning. Nurses will be around if you need anything. There's a phone right there by your bed. Nine dials out if you need to call anyone..."

He kept going, but I barely processed a word of it. I could hardly thing straight. Suddenly another question popped into my head. "What's my bill going to look like? You kept me here under observation for what, two years? What happened to me?"

An older gentleman brought you in here like this, out cold. Offered to pay all your expenses, very generous. He said he found you that way, some sort of carwreck."

"Can I have his phone number? Is he around?"

"I'm afraid he asked to remain completely anonymous. We haven't seen him since that day. Even I don't know who he is.

"Oh." I wasn't sure what else to say. Nothing about all this seemed possible. Didn't people who spent years in comas never wake up? I thought about asking more questions, but I didn't really want to talk.

Jim Shepherd left, with more kind words I barely heard. I turned my head to the window again, thinking about a life that suddenly felt like a dream.

The idea that Kate might be gone forever scared me, as did this new identity. I wanted to run to the mirror; make sure the same face was there. Fear. I'd always had a little bit of a problem with panic attacks, especially when it came to water. I suddenly found myself fighting to breath. There was more confusion here than I could handle.

Before I could try to calm down, a sudden power surge took out all the electronics in the room. The blinking, beeping monitors next to my bed went dark, the lights flickered, and the the mounted TV spontaneously turned itself on, staticky images bursting across the screen.

After a minute the panic attack faded, and I felt some of my former strength return. My muscles no longer felt quite so weak, my body so spent. I ripped out my IV and rose to my feet. I figured I only had a few seconds before a nurse would arrive to check on me, so this had to be quick.

First things first.

I dashed to the bathroom and checked the mirror, only to be greeted by familiar dark hair and green eyes. The same profile, the same old Adam, whatever the doctor had said. I looked haggard as all hell, but I was still me. Still moving quicker than should have been possible, I made a run for the closet back in my room.

A green t-shirt, a slightly beat up pair of jeans and some old tennis shoes greeted me. I ripped off my gown and changed. The power surge must have effected more than just my room, I thought. After all, shouldn't someone have checked on me by now?

I was just finished up getting dressed when the door began to creak open. I slid behind it, and then slipped out behind the nurse's back when she walked in. The human shaped bump I'd hastily created in the bed would hopefully buy me a little time to reach the elevator.

I just couldn't stay here, to be that doctor's cash cow while the fate of the one I loved remained a mystery. I didn't have time to wait another second for some battery of tests to begin.

A dimly lit hallway greeted me as I emerged from my room. So the power had gone down everywhere. I slid into the bustle of nurses, patients and doctors keeping my head down. I resolutely made my way for the elevator.

Almost without meaning to, I snagged the ball cap off of someone's head. I simply thought about taking it, and then suddenly the hat was in my hand, as if I'd somehow snagged it with my mind from across the room.

I refused to think about it, certain I'd simply grabbed it without realizing. I didn't let myself relax as I rode the elevator, waiting as it stopped floor by floor. I didn't calm down after walking past the receptionist at the front entrance, didn't stop the whirling in my mind as I walked through the sliding doors and out into the bustle of the street.

It wasn't until I found a park bench several blocks away that I finally let myself slow down. All the exhaustion that had somehow been put off temporarily seemed to crash back down on me the second I sat down, and I fell asleep at once.

The Unstoppable (Chapter One)

The Unstoppable

PART ONE: ACCEPTANCE

Chapter One: The Inescapable

“Adam look out!”

Tires squealed as I mashed my foot into the brake pedal, the sound soon followed by a metallic clang as we bumped lightly into the guardrail with our right fender. My fiancé Kate and I were both flung against our seatbelts as we came to a stop, breathless but unharmed.

We knew each other well enough that one glance, one quick look told us everything we needed to know. She could see the panic in my eyes, the slight tremble overtaking my body. And I could see, even through the scattered strands of brown hair obscuring her face, a sympathetic smile and patient concern.

I broke stares and looked away. Outside the car windows, Chesapeake Bay soared to the horizon. Its blue expanse filling our open car windows with rich sea air, air that made my chest seize up, my stomach turn.

For a moment all was quiet save for the sound of waves lapping beneath us, till a honking truck suddenly roared past, swerving into the other lane for a moment. Two or three more cars I’d apparently been holding up followed suite.

It had happened the moment we’d left dry land. I wasn’t sure if it was just seeing all the water, or perhaps it was the nauseating sea air, but suddenly I’d been lost in memory. The silence returned once more, but my heart was still pounding, my nerves still frazzled, panicky. After a little time to regain composure, Kate reached for my hand, which was gripping the gearshift with white knuckles.

“Are…you okay, Adam?” she asked tentatively, her voice soft and low, as if she were afraid to break the stillness. Instead of answering, I reached with a shaky hand to turn on the air conditioner.

“Adam?”

“I’m fine…I just…” I let my voice trail off, a little unsure.

“You know we don’t have to do this, it’s not like she’s coming to the wedding,” Kate declared. I knew she was trying to be helpful, and it was almost certainly true, but it made the pain a little raw.

For a moment I didn’t speak. It had been almost ten years since I’d seen my mother. We were the only survivors of a terrible car wreck that had killed all three of my sisters after our van flew off a bridge, into a lake. We’d grown apart quickly and completely following the accident.

Both of us had developed a terrible fear of water following that awful night, and had escaped in our own ways. My mother had grown distant, left my father, and moved to an island in Chesapeake Bay, surrounded by the sea on all sides, surrounded by constant reminders of that awful day.

While she’d lived haunted by the past, I moved to the Texas desert, toiling under the sun for an education. It was where I’d met Kate, and where I planned to spend the rest of my life.

Finally after a long pause, I spoke, prompted by an oncoming car in my rearview mirror. “We didn’t fly all the way out here just to turn around and leave now.” She gently pried my hand up off the clutch and squeezed it, smiling. Immediately I felt my raw nerves begin to settle. That was why I loved Kate, she could make me feel better without even speaking.

“I can do this,” I said, returning a hand to the steering wheel. I was eager to get through it and move on with my life. Everything I’d ever wanted to say, I would say, and then we would never come back here again.

“You can do this. But I should drive,” she declared, her brown eyes crinkling into a cheerful smile. She began to unbuckle her seatbelt without another word. At first I was tempted to resist, but I knew she was right.

Before I could reach for my belt, I heard a honking behind me, and suddenly my head was flung back by an airbag, the world spinning so fast all the colors blended together, the sky and the sea and the clouds merged, and then as our tiny little rental car smashed through the guardrail and hit the water, all went dark.

---

At first I thought I was losing my mind. It all seemed so much like that night long ago, water flooding at my feet, panic heavy in my chest with every heartbeat.

As I came back from the black space behind my eyelids, I knew I had to get out of the car, but my first concern was for Kate. I turned to her seat to reach for her only to find it empty.

The panic deepened, till I thought my heart would stop.


This can't be.

I fumbled with my seatbelt until I could free myself, then slithered out the open window. I climbed to the top of my sinking car on unsteady legs, my head spinning. The glare of the setting sun hit my eyes as I looked back towards the bridge. At first I saw nothing, and then there she was, lying unconscious on the road.

Her seatbelt, I realized. She'd been knocked flying. I saw where we'd busted the guardrail up, but there didn't seem to be any cars along the span of the bridge I could see.

A hit and run.

She was an easy thirty feet away and much too high to reach. I glanced towards the shore, feeling sick. It was about a hundred yards off, a marsh thick with reeds and littered with garbage. I would have to swim for it. Fear flooded my chest and seemed to beat in my veins but I knew it had to be done. I couldn't let the fear control me, not this time. I looked to the sky. The sun was just beginning to set. Soon we would become too dark to see. Not a moment of precious time to be lost.

Without another thought I threw myself into the water and began to swim, the waters icy despite the warmth of the air. The entire time I felt certain my life was over, every time I dipped my head under, the water would keep me, or my muscles would freeze, and I would sink to the bottom.

But I made it. By the time I staggered my way onto shore, twilight had grown even deeper. I pushed my way through the overgrown weeds as fast as I could, slapping through cattails and plodding through the bog in bare feet, my flip-flops being long gone.

The road was strangely quiet. I could hardly believe I still hadn't seen or heard a car since the accident. However, as my wet feet slapped onto the asphalt I noted in the distance a pair of headlights in our lane, leaving me short on time.

I sprinted for where Kate lay prone on the street and immediately felt for a pulse, slipping two fingers against her slender neck. I soon found a faint beating. She appeared a little beat up but I found nothing broken.

I didn't want to move her, but I was afraid I had no choice, with darkness settling on the ocean like a thick black blanket. I gathered her limp body in my arms and stood. The vehicle approaching was big, I saw. A semi. I was about to move into the other lane to move out of the way when I realized a whole line of cars was suddenly zooming in.

Trapped.

I would have to throw us at the mercy of the trucker. I started hollering and screaming so loud Kate began to stir. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a few cars slow down, but none stopped.

Nor did the trucker.

I waited and waited, beginning to panic again, and still he didn't stop, didn't seem to see us at all despite the fact that his headlights now clearly illuminated us.

Out of options, I looked down to the water, terrified again.

I steadied myself, tightened my grip on Kate and leapt for the water through the twisted gap in the guardrail. I think we would have made. I really think everything would have been fine, but for the fact that the grill of the semi clipped my ankle, shattering it instantly and cutting my jump short, sending both of us flying headlong into my car.

My head smashed into the roof of it hard enough to drive every thought from my head. I saw a flash, a mere second's glimpse of Kate lying next to me, eyes wide open. And then the darkness devoured me, as sudden, deep, and terrifying as a riptide sucking me under the waves.

The Egg Timer is Still Ticking...

Hey... still feeling pretty sick. Today has been worse than yesterday and Friday, sadly. A little relapse I guess. My plans to get much writing done this weekend, needless to say, have gone down in flames rather spectacularly. But such is life, eh?

I was thinking earlier today that I'm not quite happy with how The Red Elevators has turned out in its first three chapters. It might be a little too soon for that one. I'm also doubting some of the decisions I made. So now I'm considering a return to The Unstoppable, a story I was working on waaaay back in 2009 and early 2010 before I shifted over to That Hideous Slumber.

They will probably have to get redrafted and rewritten before I can launch into new chapters, but you can click here to read the story so far. I made it seven chapters in before. I was never happy with 6 and 7 though. I may take the story in a different direction following chapter 5 now.

So... yeah, let me know what you think. I hope to be feeling better and back to work again soon!!

New Poem

It could be the mild delirium talking but I think this poem is pretty good. Let me know what you think. I hope it means that I'm getting better if I can write, although this is certainly a bit different from my usual writing...

"Fever Dreams"

I've been keeping my heart in the clouds,
I've been storing up all these thoughts of love,
for just such a rainy day
when I lost my head to the fever dreams,
when I lost my limbs to the weakness.

Now I can't tell up from down,
left or right, waking or sleeping?
Does it matter in the end?
We kissed once in a fever dream,
in the throes of delirium you found me,
But when I opened my eyes,
you vanished like mist

I lost my mind out here,
in the hot and the cold,
the fire and the frost,
Sweat and shiver,
this fever's holding me tighter,
than your arms wrapped around me,
but I swear I saw it in a dream,
we'll be leaving this decay behind,
this sick bed, this unresting place.

There will be a day,
when dreams dry up like river beds,
useless in reality of love,
fevered thoughts will melt in hot summery air,
I'll hold you and I'll smile and know,
this is no dream.

If I have to choose, I think I'd rather keep the record player...

Today is my birthday.

I'm listening to my new record player spin (I know! Coolest bday present ever right?!). I broke it in with a little house of heroes before switching to Dustin Kensrue's Christmas album. It's a pretty good end to a really terrible day, one of my worst birthdays on record. I've been sick all day, you see.

Luckily I've been able to relax at home most of the day. I got some reading, gaming, and Clone Wars watching in, as well as two short naps. You might be thinking right now "wow plenty of time to write!" But I often can't write when I don't feel well. This goes for both mentally and physically.

Now.

In the wake of my birthday party, I'm feeling a little better. Not great, but better. Actually, I think I feel worst right now because I sneezed backwards a few hours ago. I'm still not sure how it happened. I sneezed and I swear my eardrums nearly exploded. Now my throat feels extra raw and my ears hurt.

I'm hoping tomorrow will be a much better day. It would be a shame to lose a perfectly good weekend to illness. It's nice to catch up on my reading and all, but I've got a finished book that needs editing, publishers and agents to seek out, and new books to get to work on. Therefore, this is putting a major hamper on my two only resolutions, to work out more and to get published.

Getting ill particularly on my birthday was not quite as bad as it might sound. I was sort of relieved, because it took all the pressure off of me to feel like I had to do something to commemorate the day. Once I hit 23, birthdays started to lose their edge big time, and with 25, I'm officially ok with skipping the whole thing all together. Not that I don't appreciate the gifts, well wishing, and forty bazillion posts on my facebook wall, but now it just makes me feel old. Maybe I'm just having a quarter life crisis, but when I look at where I thought I'd be at 25 I can't help but feel a little disappointed.

There are so many good, new things that I have to celebrate though, that it seems a little silly to be dismayed. Because I DID accomplish a major goal this time around. I finished a book. In addition, I now have two wonderful little sisters. I have friends, I have family, and a loving God in my life. Maybe I needed this sickness to remind me of what really matters.

I'll give you a hint, it's not my health. It isn't presents, or lemon cake either. (Not that lemon cake isn't basically the best invention since like, ever.)

I think birthdays, more than the new year, are a time when we should be renewing our resolve, looking at our goals in life. What are we striving for? Where do we want to go in life? And most importantly, who are when our comfortable life gets turned upside down?

You may think a terrible cold to be a strange birthday present, but I think the only kind of person who could knowingly give such a gift at the exact right time is the most loving kind of father possible, the one who knows how to give me the exact thing I need.

So thank you, God, for this cold, and for the much needed lesson. And thank you, dear readers, for putting up with this blog. I'm a bit feverish, so please be patient if I was a little tangenty and didn't make much sense. I hope to get to work soon on some new short stories, and I'm also working on chapter 2 of a new book, so hopefully I will have something worthwhile to share soon!!

A Quelth of Quotes

I was looking at some quotes on storytelling recently, and I being a storyteller, thought I might share my favorites with you. I was considering changing my tagline, but I decided against it. I realize the very last one from C.S. Lewis doesn't exactly fit with the rest but I really liked enough that I included it anyways. Soooo... deal with it. The three before it are my favorites. Hiii-yah!

"The destiny of the world is determined less by the battles that are lost and won than by the stories it loves and believes in." —Harold Goddard

"There have been great societies that did not use the wheel, but there have been no societies that did not tell stories." —Ursula K. LeGuin

"Stories live in your blood and bones, follow the seasons and light candles on the darkest night-every storyteller knows she or he is also a teacher..." —Patti Davis

"Stories are the creative conversion of life itself into a more powerful, clearer, more meaningful experience. They are the currency of human contact." — Robert McKee

"The universe is made of stories, not atoms." —Muriel Rukeyser

"I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next." Delicious Ambiguity —Gilda Radner

"In seeking truth you have to get both sides of a story." —Walter Cronkite

"The story is always better than your ability to write it. My belief about this is that if you ever get to the point that you think you’ve done a story justice, you’re in the wrong business." —Robin McKinley

"Rule one of reading other people’s stories is that whenever you say ‘well that’s not convincing’ the author tells you that’s the bit that wasn’t made up. This is because real life is under no obligation to be convincing." —Neil Gaiman

"It’s no coincidence that just at this point in our insight into our mysteriousness as human beings struggling towards compassion, we are also moving into an awakened interest in the language of myth and fairy tale. The language of logical arguments, of proofs, is the language of the limited self we know and can manipulate. But the language of parable and poetry, of storytelling, moves from the imprisoned language of the provable into the freed language of what I must, for lack of another word, continue to call faith." —Madeleine L’Engle

“Miracles are a retelling in small letters of the very same story which is written across the whole world in letters too large for some of us to see.” -C.S. Lewis