A lifeguard is called upon to give CPR, but by the time she gets there she can tell it's too late by far.
A woman is tied to the ground. She is trying to untangle herself but two motorcycles are speeding toward her. The first one to run her over survives.
Tuesday, September 16, 2014
Tuesday, September 9, 2014
Sept. 9, 2014
I've been absent for a while. My parents moved into the area. They are both getting up in the years so I've been busy helping them move heavy items and climb ladders. Then the things in Ferguson, MO started happening. I live close. The images that came to me at night were very dark at times. Some demons will never see the light of day.
These thoughts and images which come to me, they are not a latent impulse on my part. I want to make that clear. They are just images, snippets of random movies floating through my brain.
Here's the back log:
A woman is driving down a road, it is raining, when she losses control and falls over the steep side. The car catches fire, burning her immediately. She makes her way out of the car and rolls in the mud to put out the flames. The mud is special, and after months of recovery she finds she has super-human powers. (They ain't all scary.)
My mother has a stroke at dinner and I don't know what to do.
A man breaks into a family's home and robs them, taking their small son as insurance they won't follow him out of the house or try to fight. His intention is to drop the kid off at the end of the long drive before making his clean get-away. As he is letting the child out of the car a semi turns the corner going to fast. It slams into the car, killing the child and severely injuring the man. As he comes to he realizes he is surrounded by the family. The mother holds the limp body of her son, screaming. The men of the family say nothing as they grab him by the ankles and start dragging him back to the house.
I'm putting my Grandmother to bed. Her room is full of dust. I lay her down and cover her with cobwebs before turning out the light.
My teeth are falling out of my head. My gums are black and gooey. They fall out so easy I can't do anything to keep them in.
I visit my husband at the steel plant where he works. Someone drops a 40,000 pound coil, it lands on me and squishes me flat.
What if those weird, spacy people are actually ghost who have manifested themselves so well no one knows they're dead?
These thoughts and images which come to me, they are not a latent impulse on my part. I want to make that clear. They are just images, snippets of random movies floating through my brain.
Here's the back log:
A woman is driving down a road, it is raining, when she losses control and falls over the steep side. The car catches fire, burning her immediately. She makes her way out of the car and rolls in the mud to put out the flames. The mud is special, and after months of recovery she finds she has super-human powers. (They ain't all scary.)
My mother has a stroke at dinner and I don't know what to do.
A man breaks into a family's home and robs them, taking their small son as insurance they won't follow him out of the house or try to fight. His intention is to drop the kid off at the end of the long drive before making his clean get-away. As he is letting the child out of the car a semi turns the corner going to fast. It slams into the car, killing the child and severely injuring the man. As he comes to he realizes he is surrounded by the family. The mother holds the limp body of her son, screaming. The men of the family say nothing as they grab him by the ankles and start dragging him back to the house.
I'm putting my Grandmother to bed. Her room is full of dust. I lay her down and cover her with cobwebs before turning out the light.
My teeth are falling out of my head. My gums are black and gooey. They fall out so easy I can't do anything to keep them in.
I visit my husband at the steel plant where he works. Someone drops a 40,000 pound coil, it lands on me and squishes me flat.
What if those weird, spacy people are actually ghost who have manifested themselves so well no one knows they're dead?
Thursday, July 31, 2014
7/30/14
I have a paper due today, so I edited and re-edited it in my mind all night long. That's enough of a nightmare, thank you.
Wednesday, July 30, 2014
7/29/14
Last night's crop:
One moment I was sipping coffee, the next I was lying on the ground in pain. A bomb has exploded. My leg is mangled. I manage to put a tourniquet around the leg to stop the bleeding, but I only had one shirt. A stranger came to help me. I asked for his shirt so I could apply another tourniquet lower on my leg, just above the knee. Why, he asked? "So if I lose the leg I don't lose the knee, it will be easier for a prosthetic then."
A woman had a seizure, a really bad one. She began screaming, but the sound was unlike anything I ever heard. Taken to the hospital, the sound was recorded. They found the noise was the combination of many languages being spoken at once. They separate the different languages on a computer until they can decipher a few of the messages. They are all saying the same thing - "The gate to Hell is open."
One moment I was sipping coffee, the next I was lying on the ground in pain. A bomb has exploded. My leg is mangled. I manage to put a tourniquet around the leg to stop the bleeding, but I only had one shirt. A stranger came to help me. I asked for his shirt so I could apply another tourniquet lower on my leg, just above the knee. Why, he asked? "So if I lose the leg I don't lose the knee, it will be easier for a prosthetic then."
A woman had a seizure, a really bad one. She began screaming, but the sound was unlike anything I ever heard. Taken to the hospital, the sound was recorded. They found the noise was the combination of many languages being spoken at once. They separate the different languages on a computer until they can decipher a few of the messages. They are all saying the same thing - "The gate to Hell is open."
Tuesday, July 29, 2014
They Always Come at Night
I have a creative mind. I like it most of the time.
When I go to bed at night the leash I keep on my dark thoughts slips off and my mind bombards me with torturous thoughts and images. I'm hoping that by releasing them here I can save myself the demented replays later.
Last Night's Crop:
My husband and I are on the beach. We are in our sixties. He gives me a hug and in releasing him, I feel a lump. I know what this means. Do I tell him the cancer is back, or do I ignore it and hope against hope it is something else?
We are on the train to Chicago. I have the window seat, he has the isle. We are talking, laughing, minding our own business. A man approaches, and before he passes us he stabs a knife into my husband's chest. It's a kill shot, his vacant eyes stare at me as I scream.
My sister is 8 months pregnant. I am picking her up from the airport. A pick-up truck full of rednecks does not stop. They run my sister over, the back tire going over her swollen belly. The baby is expelled, trapped in the leg of her pants. I can't see it, but I can see the blood. I can do nothing to save it.
When I go to bed at night the leash I keep on my dark thoughts slips off and my mind bombards me with torturous thoughts and images. I'm hoping that by releasing them here I can save myself the demented replays later.
Last Night's Crop:
My husband and I are on the beach. We are in our sixties. He gives me a hug and in releasing him, I feel a lump. I know what this means. Do I tell him the cancer is back, or do I ignore it and hope against hope it is something else?
We are on the train to Chicago. I have the window seat, he has the isle. We are talking, laughing, minding our own business. A man approaches, and before he passes us he stabs a knife into my husband's chest. It's a kill shot, his vacant eyes stare at me as I scream.
My sister is 8 months pregnant. I am picking her up from the airport. A pick-up truck full of rednecks does not stop. They run my sister over, the back tire going over her swollen belly. The baby is expelled, trapped in the leg of her pants. I can't see it, but I can see the blood. I can do nothing to save it.
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