The Worm

This is part of a sic-fi novella that I will write eventually - after I've completed my current work-in-progress, Anticipating Dawn.

The worm's progress seemed exceptionally long and arduous as it slid its way over and under the small sand dunes. To us, the rippling effect of the sand looked like impact waves caused from our walking by. As I watched its body sliding forward, slithering its way underneath the mound and arriving up again, sand pebbles were pushed off it's back and left behind in the hot dessert. The worm went deeper for more moisture, then reluctantly returned to the surface, clean of residual sand particles.

I followed, withholding the urge to pick the worm up and investigate it. I had no idea if I would be able to see its will, as some of the old taxonomists said I would not. We, on the other hand, always believed that we would see the will along with its soul only if we succeeded in following it to it's hometown. They were too quick for that and its trail would soon disappear even in the slightest wind.

I took out my trail tracker and waited for the end of the worm to finally make itself visible. There was only one chance at this. If I missed, there was no way to know when another worm would come so close to us again.

I aimed the tracker to the shifting hole, held my breath and waited. Zulu knelt down next to me, also quiet and still, even though it was dangerous to be this close to the tail end of the worm. He refused to leave my side and my heart again melted at the thought of how protective he was. I knew it bothered him that he could not take the risk I was, so he put himself in as much peril as he could without me or someone else making him step back.

Refocusing, I took a deep breath and slowly expelled it, sensing that the worm’s end was soon coming. There was no way to tell how long a worm was without waiting to view both the head and the tail. They ranged from the size of a croc to the length of the New Nile River, their width varying slightly. It was coming, though. I knew it.

--OK, maybe it's an excuse (believe me, it's not), but these last two weeks have been difficult, and most of last week I was not well. This week I truly have no excuse and will write! I could put the blame also on my proposed writing buddy who copped out. :(  But I won't.

Stranded

This is another excerpt of the sci-fi novella that I will work on at some point in the future.

When I woke up, I thought I had sleep walked again. I thought maybe I had tracked sand in from the park, but there was too much. I couldn’t remember and was totally lost as to where I was and from where I had come.

I moved my feet. My toes were dried and caked. I opened my eyes to bright blue skies with thick, puffy, cotton ball clouds nudging me awake by shadows going across my face.

I ached. More than ached, every muscle in my body cried out with the slightest movement. My neck muscles compressed into my nerve endings when I tried to turn my head, and the resulting tears stung my dry eyes, causing more tears and more pain.

With one big effort, I pushed myself up, sitting on my butt, my arms barely able to support my upper body. The pain of falling back down would have been worse, so I stayed in that position, wavering and swaying to stay slightly erect.

Through the filmy lens of my tears, I saw the white sand and blue water. A beach. Why was I at a beach? A fly buzzed in front of my face and I moaned loudly as I tried to stretch my arm to shoo it away. It was already too difficult to see. Instead of the fly going away, I fell backward, and wanted to forever close my eyes and not deal with what was going on.

I imagined the fly now lying on my forehead as my spiritual friend and guide, and focused my energy on that one speck of creation. Inside my head, a spectral, brilliant light soared out from within me, dissolving everything from the fly, to the sand on my feet, the beach, waves and trees, and even the pain within me. There was nothing left but the light pulsating and fluctuating with the flow of blood coursing through me.

I opened my eyes, and saw everyone smiling at me, pride beaming from their eyes almost as bright as the light that was diminishing and quenching itself in the core of my heart.

“You have made it!” One voice said, and they all gathered closer to me, helping me up from the mat on the floor.

“You’re one of us.” Another voice said. Then the overhead lights ignited, revealing through the invisible floor the five others who had attempted to become one of them and failed. The five flies fidgeted their legs, while licking their feet and wiping their heads constantly, as if incapable of believing the reality of their new existence.

Of course, there was no more pain. The beach was now underfoot, along with the five flies, who were truly stranded. Giving them one more glance and then looking up to my new family, I smiled. “At least they’re in a beautiful location.”

-- This short is a work in progress, part of the sci-fi novella I'm working on. I've decided that this will be a Christian book, although I don't have an outline and am not sure exactly what it's about. "Stranded" is not the title of the book, just this section, which is a longer piece than what's here.

I did write some yesterday, which made me feel better. Yesterday was just an emotional day for me. Glad I made it to church today. And my mom is home!

Irritated or Irritating?

Today, everything irritates me. Usually, it seems, that’s a sign that I’m not too happy with myself for some reason, or I’m impatient in waiting on God. Maybe it’s both. It’s a beautiful day, and I was excited about fulfilling my plans, yet everything bothers me! There are a lot of things going on, however, including I was too exhausted on Wednesday to attend Bible Study at my church, and neither Thursday or Friday could I make it to Home Group Bible studies. My mother had a procedure done on Friday to try and control heart malfunction episodes, and she’s still in the hospital due to feelings of nausea. Also, I haven’t written on the book in almost a week. Is that enough for me to be irritated today?

I’m at the library now to write, but have yet to begin. At least there’s a friend that I met at the SF Writer’s Conference who wants to start a writing buddy system. I think having someone to be accountable to will help me in writing. Maybe I’ll do a short story based on a writing prompt now. Hopefully my next post will be a story or an excerpt from one of the books I’m (supposed to be) working on.

Please pray for my mom!