Gratitude on this Sunday morning

This morning's gorgeous sky!

Last night my husband and I shared supper with good friends. Before we left our house, marine layer-looking clouds were drifting from the north along the western horizon. I figured that marine layer would spread, and while I'd not been to our host's home, I hoped for a few minutes to admire the blue sky from her place until the clouds firmly took hold.

This morning as the marine layer was interrupted by a smidgen of blueish sky, I was brought back to our lovely evening filled with great conversation, delicious food, marvelous friendship AND a clear sky that seemed to defy the marine layer until well past nine p.m.! Our host has beautiful western and southerly views from her backyard,where we ate, chatted, then enjoyed a fire in her firepit. All the while I kept remarking how amazing was the sky, unfettered by the ubiquitous cloud bank. I saw Venus descend, other stars emerge, and the waxing gibbous moon to the south, such astronomical treats! Our tall western treeline obscures such marvels, so my comments continued, and as the youngest person there, I hoped I didn't sound like a kid in a candy store.

Yet it's how I felt, blessed beyond words. And this morning, admiring our eastern sky, I felt just the same.

How mature perhaps, to embrace the here and now? To appreciate what sits right in our midst, not lamenting what isn't. Of course I also considered the story I finished yesterday, LOL, what a relief to have it completed, and such a surprise too from its long-ago humble beginnings as an abandoned chapter! Written very much off the cuff, then set aside, but not trashed. That's part of the key of living in the here and now. Following the Spirit, but being able to walk away from something if its purpose is merely for the moment. To fully involve oneself in a creative exercise that might lead immediately to more, or could be merely for training purposes. But not to overthink it, maybe wasting time necessary for another project, another chance to share love, another opportunity for healing.

As a writer and a follower of Christ, healing is my goal. Some for me, but much for anyone who stumbles upon my books. Their thrust is love and healing wrapped in character-driven fiction, hehehe. I've been writing now coming on twenty years, DUDE! And yes, at first it was to satisfy the long-cherish dream to craft novels. But soonish I realized it was about working through the pitfalls, and the pits, of my life, and hopefully sharing with others that despite all the SHITE, love prevails. Goodness matters, mercy extends not only to others the olive branch of peace, but to us who hand it out. We can only love and forgive as much as we accept love and forgiveness, and every story I craft, little or large, seeks to further the love, compassion, tenderness, and pardon. We seek pardon for our mistakes, hence we can then proffer that pardon to others. Only in this way can we move forward, turning our lives into the best they can be.

Anyway, that's where I am on this Sunday morning. Two hens have flown from the run, I lured them back with treats, then one again sailed over the door, oi! Some things are out of our hands, silly chickens ahem, but for what we can manage, to do so in humble awareness of a greater good, and may I say a great and loving God, will get us where we need to be. I have morning sunrises, or morning cloud views. I have another section of On Being Brave completed. I have Camilla Chicken in a nesting box, hopefully laying an egg. And I certainly have one more moment to share the first chapter of Home and Far Away, the discarded chapter described above, a chapter written with no discernible purpose AT THE TIME, but it set the tone for how aliens could indeed figure into a series borne of self-consolation, continuing in the joy of being back on the noveling horse, now settled into where the writing goes from here. Day after day, little miracle after maybe one more significant, we head out on our personal journeys. May your walk today be filled with love!

 

 

 

Chapter 1

The orange body with an arm coming out of its chest made Gilly Lund pause; she couldn’t believe the extra hand was real, though it didn’t look fake, yellow goo-like blood drying where the arm stuck out. At five and a half years old, Gilly had seen countless dead animals, from squashed roadkill to poisoned mice. But never had she come upon such a still form, or one that looked so strange.

Uncertain if this was a man or woman, Gilly stepped back, then gazed east into the shallow dip beyond the small rise. Her morning walks rarely offered such surprises and she squinted from the sun, then spotted two others lying feet away. One was probably a woman, long dark curls hiding her face. The other was a hippie with lengthy sand-colored hair and a thin beard. His eyes were closed, his face scratched, but he would only need some iodine, maybe one bandage. Gilly studied the scene; someone had glued an extra arm to a department store dummy, then left it in plain sight. But the other two weren’t familiar and Gilly frowned. “If this’s supposed to scare me,” she said aloud, “you’re gonna hafta try harder.”

No one responded. Gilly tapped her foot, then crossed her arms over her chest. Nothing else looked unusual; to her left an oak tree shimmered with fresh green leaves waving in the gentle breeze. A few black cows mooed beyond the tree, but the aged barbed-wire fence hadn’t been messed with, making Gilly glance toward the road, no tire tracks in the grass. “I don’t know how you all got here without us hearing you,” she growled at those still lying motionless. Again she tapped her foot, then shook her head. “All right, I’m gonna go get Daddy. He’s not gonna like this.”

Marching from the flat spot, Gilly tucked auburn hair behind her ears, that morning’s short braids already coming loose. She turned back once, but the figures hadn’t moved. She grunted, shoving her hands in the pockets of her shorts. The day was warm; she wore old sandals and a loose top that ruffled in the light wind, hairs tickling the back of her neck. A sudden shiver caused her to stop, again staring at what made no sense. Juana’s family wasn’t home, plus they wouldn’t have played such a trick, and Gilly strode toward the barnyard, shouting for her father.

Richard Lund stepped from an outbuilding, wiping his hands with a rag. “What’re you hollering about?”

“Daddy, someone put dummies in the field.”

“They did what?”

Gilly pointed to where she had just been. “They put dummies in the field. One’s got an extra arm coming out of its chest.”

Richard smiled at his daughter, who normally wasn’t prone to fibbing. “And what do the other two look like?”

“The hippie’s got cuts on his face. I can’t tell with the lady. Her hair’s in the way.”

“Jesus Christ!” Shoving the rag in a back pocket, Richard ran in the direction where Gilly had gestured. A week ago he’d been warned that teens from Ukiah were vandalizing some vineyards, but he hadn’t believed anyone would bother them. Spying the strange figure Gilly had described, he stared at the road, not finding anything disturbed. Then he gasped, glancing toward the dip, wondering how and when three dead bodies had been dumped on his property.

As he approached, one began to moan, then probably who Gilly described as the lady slowly sat up. She looked black, or was a very dark Mexican. The man less than ten feet away was white, and the other person…. Richard blinked, then shook his head. Something was attached to the center of that body and it did appear much like an arm. The black woman lowered her head, gripping her knees for support, while the white man rolled to his side, groaning in pain. Speaking a language Richard had never heard, the woman addressed the man as though asking if he was okay.

He replied in a garbled voice, but loudly enough that Richard could hear. If this was October, Richard might consider it some elaborate prank, but being early June, this scene made absolutely no sense, and he wished he’d brought his gun, keeping his distance as the woman went to her knees, crawling toward the strange, still figure. The woman pulled a device from her back pocket, then hovered it over the length of the figure.

The man coughed, then glanced around, briefly meeting Richard’s gaze. He spoke to the woman, then sighed heavily.

“What the hell’s going on?” Richard shouted.

The woman grimaced, then moved in front of the one still lying flat. She cleared her throat, then spoke. “Nothing, nothing’s going on.”

“Like hell there isn’t.” Removing his baseball cap, Richard ran a hand through short hair the same color as his daughter’s. He put the hat back on, spat for effect, then took two steps toward the trio. “Where’re you from and what’re trying to hide in the middle of my property?”

The woman sighed, sitting cross-legged in front of the other figure. “We’re not trying to hide anything.”

“Bullshit.” Richard spat again, then peered back. Squinting, he could see Gilly at the edge of the yard. “It’ll take me one minute to get my gun unless you give me a damn good reason not to. You won’t be able to carry that thing away before I can get a crack at any of you.”

The man groaned again, shaking his head. “I told you we weren’t gonna survive this.”

“Shut up Dardram,” the woman snapped.

Startled by their command of English despite their strange accents, Richard then stared at how the woman still guarded her companion. The woman turned away from him, again examining the other…. Richard wasn’t sure what it was, a mannequin or indeed a corpse. It was naked from his vantage point, but Gilly hadn’t mentioned that, only she thought it was malformed. “What’re you trying to hide?” he shouted. “And tell me the truth or I’ll….”

The figure began making what to Richard sounded like sputtering noises. “Dardram, help me please,” the woman said. “Chelak’s still alive!”

“Not for long,” Dardram muttered, going to his knees and creeping toward the others.

The woman then gazed at Richard. “If I tell you the truth, no matter how outlandish it sounds, will you help me carry her inside somewhere so I can look after her?”

“Depends on how flaky a story you tell.”

The woman nodded. Slowly she went to her knees, pulling long hair from her face. “We’re from the future. This woman is to you a foreigner. But we’re not and if you don’t help us you’re gonna bury an alien on your property.”

Richard crossed his arms over his chest. “An alien huh? So you’re not from Ukiah?”

“No, we’re not from Ukiah. We mean you no harm. But please….”

A stifled groan sent a chill through Richard as the woman again turned toward the injured figure. Against his better judgment, Richard approached the trio, then stifled a gasp; the body did indeed sport an arm jutting from its chest, a pale yellow discharge having clotted around the oddity, the thick liquid oozing down the side of its torso, upon which Richard saw nothing resembling breasts or a navel. He glanced at its head; small eyes were tightly shut, what looked like a mouth, although without lips it appeared as merely an O underneath from where green snot streamed from two tiny nostrils, yet the actual nose was hard to discern. Most striking was the figure’s hair, or what appeared like hair; steel in color, it covered the figure’s head at about an inch and a half in length like tiny spikes. Scanning the rest of it, Richard noted two arms in normal placement and feet at the end of long yellow-orange legs. “What is that thing?” he asked softly as the figure began to moan.

“She’s gonna be dead if you don’t help us. I’ll tell you whatever you wanna hear, but please help me get her out of this light.”

“I’ll do it,” Dardram said weakly.

“Just stay where you are,” the woman barked.

As she tried to lift the figure, Richard came to their sides. “I’ll get her head, you take her feet. Her neck broken?”

“Fuck if I know, but I don’t think so,” the woman muttered. “The light’s doing the most damage.”

Richard bristled at her language, then sighed. “On three we’ll lift. I’ll walk backwards, you head to the first building on the left.”

“Where the little girl is?” the woman asked, glancing past Richard.

“Yeah, where the little girl is.” Richard grasped the figure’s shoulders, which were slick, but not from the discharge still seeping from the appendage in her chest. “What’s wrong with her skin?”

“The light and heat.” The woman gripped the figure’s legs. “Dardram, we’ll be in that shed on the left.”

“I heard you Suze.”

Richard watched as the woman frowned, then grunted as she hoisted her companion. “Why are you walking backwards?” she asked.

“Because I know this place better than you. Keep your eyes on the ground or you’ll twist an ankle.” Brushing against the figure’s hair, Richard flinched, then gazed at what he held. Its hair wasn’t at all hard, strands breaking off where he had touched it. He adjusted his hold, but the slickness remained.

“I realize this’s difficult, but thank you. If nothing else, she’s not gonna die in the heat. Chelak, you better thank me for this.”

“What’s your name again?” Richard asked the woman.

“Suze,” she said in a clipped tone. “And you are?”

“Hoping to get rid of you as soon as possible.”

“Hope springs eternal.”

Richard stared at her; she did look human, yet her coloring continued to confound him as well as her enunciation, which sounded British. “Are you Mexican?”

“What?” She shook her head. “I told you, I’m human. This is Earth, right?”

“What else would it be?”

She grunted, then paused. “Just a moment, I can’t carry her anymore.”

“I’ll do it.” Scooping the figure into his arms, Richard turned for the barnyard. Gilly waved at him and he nodded toward the workshop. It was easier carrying the figure, although its skin was sloughing off with every step. Richard considered jogging, but that might cause more harm than good. Suze was behind him, he could hear her ragged breathing, but the figure had stopped moaning and Richard took that as a bad sign. “Just hang on,” he whispered. “I’m not burying any damned aliens on my property.”

“Daddy, is that the person with an arm in its chest?” Gilly shouted.

“Yeah honey. Open the shop door right now.”

Gilly ran around the corner of the building as Richard walked as quickly as he felt was best for the…. The figure moaned again, though he nearly thought of it as a creature. But some part of him accepted Suze’s explanation, however this was no alien he would have conjured. Reaching the workshop, he carefully maneuvered through the small opening Gilly had provided. He scanned the room, then sighed. “Honey, shove everything off the table.”

“But Daddy, all your stuff….”

“Now Gillian!”

With one sweeping gesture a wide variety of tools fell to the floor. Gilly stepped back as Richard placed the figure on the table. It moaned again, then began to writhe. As Suze entered the shop, Richard grasped Gilly’s hand, pulling her toward the doorway. “Daddy, I wanna watch,” she protested.

“Absolutely not.”

“But Daddy….”

Richard started to hoist his daughter over his shoulder, then looked at his clothes, covered in greenish-yellow slime. “Shit,” he muttered, placing Gilly on her feet, then grasping her hand. “C’mon Gillian, I’m not gonna say it twice.”

“Aw, Daddy.” She kicked the ground, then accompanied him from the shop. “Hey look, it’s that man. He’s limping pretty bad, you gonna help him too?”

“I probably should. But you stay right here, understand me?”

“Uh-huh.”

Richard grimaced for effect, then approached the man. Dardram was his name, but Richard didn’t use it. “Want any help?” he asked gruffly.

“No. You’re coated in Chelak, there’s no way Suze is gonna….”

Again Richard glanced at his apparel. “What is she?”

“A goner,” Dardram sighed.

Richard shrugged, then turned around, but Gilly wasn’t anywhere he could spot her. “Damnit Gillian, I told you….” He ran back to the shop, peering in the open doorway. Gilly stood next to Suze, who was speaking softly in that odd language, not that Richard was familiar with much beyond English and Spanish. Clucks and grunts were exchanged as though Suze talked to her companion frequently. “What’re you speaking?”

“Suze says it’s Parcathn.” Gilly faced her father. “She asked for my help Daddy, that’s why I’m….”

Richard entered the shop, motioning toward Gilly. She frowned, then walked toward him. “Daddy, her skin’s getting better. Suze said as long as she doesn’t go outside, she’ll be okay. Her name’s….”

“Honey, I want you to come in the house with me right now.”

“I could use her help, or yours.” Suze didn’t face the Lunds. “Or Dardram if he’s available.”

“He was right behind me,” Richard said.

“Well, he’s not here now. Can you check on him? I can only deal with one patient at a time.”

“She’s a doctor Daddy,” Gilly said. “She’s got this neat little thing she uses to….”

Richard gripped Gilly’s hand. “I’ll be right back,” he said to the woman.

“Don’t call the authorities,” she muttered.

“Don’t worry,” he sighed, leading Gilly from the shop. Glancing at the field, Richard spotted Dardram on his knees a few yards away. Slipping from her father’s hold, Gilly ran toward Dardram, who waved her off. She crossed her arms over her chest, giving the stranger a dressing down. “Just like your mother,” Richard said under his breath, walking that way. “You want some help up?” Richard asked, standing behind Gilly, gently grasping her shoulders.

“You said you had a gun, right?”

“Yeah, I said that.”

“Take your kid inside and come back with your weapon.” Dardram wore a pitying gaze. “I bet one shot’s all that’s necessary.”

Releasing Gilly, Richard patted her head, then turned her to face him. “Gillian Dianne, I’m only gonna say this once. Go in the house, turn on the TV, and sit your butt on the couch. And unless you have to pee, don’t move from the couch till I come get you. Do I make myself clear?”

She nodded, her gray eyes wide. She marched toward the house, grasping the hand rail while taking the porch steps. She turned back, but didn’t meet her father’s stern gaze. Then she entered the house, letting the screen door slam behind her.

“All right.” Richard faced the man still kneeling in the dirt. “Get your ass in that shop. I’m not burying anybody today, you understand?”

Dardram shook his head, but went to his feet. He limped awkwardly, making Richard wonder if he had a broken ankle or leg. Richard followed him, and could hear English being spoken, then that mangled communication, but the figure he’d carried seemed alert, or Dardram was also speaking that strange tongue. Pausing in the yard, Richard glanced at the house, then gazed at the field. From that distance he saw nothing out of the ordinary, then he quickly stepped to the shop doorway. “I’m gonna check where you all were. Anything I should avoid touching?”

“Nothing I can think of,” Suze replied. “Dardram, did you see anything?”

He shook his head, having sat in Richard's favorite chair. Gonna have to burn it now, Richard mused inwardly. “I’ll be back. If Gilly pokes her head in here, send her back to the house.”

“All right, but I could use her help.”

“Use him,” Richard said, pointing to Dardram.

“Just shoot me and end this….”

“You probably won’t find anything,” Suze sighed. “Sorry if we ruined any crops.”

“Dead grass is the least of my concern.” Richard stared at the figure’s head. It squinted, eyes no bigger than pencil erasers and so dark that Richard shivered. He stepped from the doorway into the sunshine. As heat seeped into him, he wondered if this was a dream. Shoving his hands in his pockets he grimaced, slime all over him. “Shit,” he muttered, heading to the field, hoping to find nothing but flattened grass.