Fiction Pages & Fiction Subpage Requests
This is less user friendly than I would like, but I think it will be workable in the end. We can create an unlimited number of “Static Pages” – this is where I would like to put the Fiction entries. I am more anal than is good for me sometimes, but I would like to have the opinions in the opinion basket and the fiction in the fiction basket, etc.
This will be the “parent page” for the Fiction pages. All editors and administrators can create static pages. Request a static page in the comments below. While none of us are here 24-7, we will hopefully notice the request within a day. Tell us what the Title of the page should be – presumably the title of your work – viewers can add comments and endings, helpful criticism, additions of any kind, or whatever you would wish.
The editors who can help you make a new page are: 6176…, jammer5, prairie pond, tosmarttobegop, and wickedkswench.
The administrators are: iggydonnelly, fnord, and sekanblogger.
If you have made a request for a page and you see one of the above people around on the blog, it would be okay to ask them about your request. If the given person above doesn’t know what to do, they can email me and I will do my best to respond as quickly as I can.
Here are some useful reference pages on “pages”:
http://support.wordpress.com/pages/page-attributes/
All works of fiction are to be considered copyright protected and re-use without written author permission is verboten! (love those German words…)
Good luck… iggy donnelly
Fiction Pages:
PrairiePopulistsAndProgressives.net 
Please see our very own sekanblogger’s excellent short story: A Soldier’s Night Out. Click on the link above.
http://tosmarttobegop.wordpress.com/2010/03/20/the-meeting-on-the-bridge/
PROLOG
How to start this story?
Once in awhile a writer has a great story line, one that would be the next great story of imagination or adventure. But then the problem arises as to how to start or in what venue should the story be?
A writer may actually wonder if the likes of a Frank Oz or Louis Carol spent more then a few hours or even weeks pondering how to start “The Wizard of OZ” Or “Alice through the looking Glass”.
Through recent events, I do not wonder a great deal how they came up with those stories of fantasy.
I too have a foundation at this moment, a story of wild experience and one that actually is strange enough to be a classic of wild adventure.
At such a moment I have the wonder if they had a similar dilemma, just how to write such a tale without coming off as mad as the Hatter comes or as simple-minded as the Scarecrow!
Add to that a tale based on a recent occurrence, which such a tale told might confirm the suspicions that were once held.
That your loveable author may have slipped a cog here or there and suffer from a break down of what is normal menial functioning. NOW, can I state without some question in my own mind that I have not?
Well considering the tale and what it is based on, even I can not state without some moment hesitations?
That I am not or have not suffered a lapse of some menial disorder?
Plainly stated and considered, it is possible or likely and the tale seems more out of such a program as
“Outer-Limits” or “The Twilight zone”.
That is possibly the best reason I can give as to why I had never written this accounting before.
But keep this in mind; this comes only after there being a third recurrence of the exact same happenings.
There is some difference with this third time; one difference is in the method I traveled home.
I wasn’t there, or might have been, in my own universe, but should have been I suppose.
But I’d like to hear more.
Me too — want to hear more that is! From what you’ve said I think I would rather you tell me than to experience it first hand.
It is so good to have you back! 🙂
LOL still working on this but it seems that every time I start something happens that stops me writing. Man life seems to move so quickly and the balls I end up joggling are harder to handle.
PROLONG:
I AWOKE to the sound of a young woman screaming at the top of her lungs, which caused me to grab for the edge of the bed. But when I did, I discovered that the edges of the bed were far closer then it should have been for the bed I would have went to sleep in? I started to get up, then discover that I was attached to something at the side of the bed through a tube that ran from a bag on an I.V. rack at the side of the bed. There was a tube and a needle in my arm, I had an I.V. which added to the surprise and confusion.
I was totally bewildered as to why? I had the presents of mind to know I would need to be careful getting out of bed. Soon I was to discover that this was the first of many strange things that would tell me something serious had happen to me!
But the drive to find out what was going on would not let me rest again without finding out.
Trying to stand, my head started swimming and I felt at a total lost as to which way to go but finally I saw what appeared to be a light coming from around a door to the edge of the room. I grabbed the I.V. rack and pulled it with me. Walking the best I could to the door I opened it and looked down the hallway outside. The hallway was a line of doors that led toward an open area. Following the hallway, I finally came to what looked to be a nurse’s station. There inside sat someone in hospital scrubs doing paperwork.
I knocked on the door and she looked up with a look of surprise on her face. Then came to the door She asked, “How can I help you Rick?” .
“Ah, where am I?”, I asked the first question that came to mind.
“You are in Nero-Restorative ” she replied through her smile.
I was taken back since I had no idea where that might be so I started name off the medical facilities that were close to my home. “Wichita?”, she said “no”, “Andover?”, again the answer was “no”.
Finally I asked, “El Dorado?” To which again the answer was “no”.
She finally voluntaries “Tulsa”, I had to grab the edge of the doorway as the world started swinging even more! How and why did I end up so far from my home? So of course I asked why?
She then said she could not tell me and I would need to ask the Doctor who should be in about three hours from then. She then said, “You I should go back to your room and wait for breakfast“.
Ok I seem to be a patient in some hospital but I could not be told why? My head swam like being overboard in the middle of the ocean!
I looked back down the hallway that I thought I must have came down to begin with but was that the one?
It suddenly occurred to me I really did not know, I looked down the other hallways I could see but they all looked exactly the same. The same colors and layouts there was no difference between the hallway to my left, right or straight ahead. It all seemed like a maze made up of straight lines with no turns or changes.
She got up from her chair to help me back to my room, which was good, since I had no idea where it was.
Once back in my room I laid on the bed feeling so lost and confused that nothing made sense at all.
I was not about to be able to go back to sleep, though my mind was misfiring it was not able to shut off.
I laid there holding onto the edge so I would not fall off though it was not likely since there were railings along the sides that the nurse had put up.
I kept looking over to the I.V. that was in my arm and finally decided to look over my body to see if there was evidence there? I found no incisions or other evidence of some works done to me, which only added to the confusion. So many questions and no answers I had truly followed the White Rabbit down the hole and was becoming even farther lost in Wonderland.
CHAPTER ONE
And so this is wonderland? –
But Wonderland was only beginning to become apparent to me; soon it was breakfast time and the gathering of the patents in the day room. An attendant appeared at my door and asked if I was ready for breakfast? She helped me to stand which was still needed as I was quite shaky and it seemed to take some time before my body and brain would get its act together. I was put in a wheel chair and rolled down the same hallway I had taken my earlier expedition down. To a large room with several tables and chairs. There sat several other people also dressed in bed attire and some in wheel chairs.
I took a place at the table where there were some other men, I was left to set and wonder about the others setting at that table. An older man in a wheel chair, a young man who had to be helped because of braces on his legs. Then there was the man who for the rest of my stay would slug me in the shoulder if I were close enough.
He would glare at me if I sat next to him, one eye cocked and his head tilled to one side. He would stare as if he seems to know me but could not figure out just how. If things did not change such as I would move out of range. He would suddenly slug me in the arm? It was not terrible hard, but was not welcome so it was annoying.
The source of the screaming became apparent when a young woman in a full wheel chair was rolled in.
She appeared to be about eighteen or so and unable to hold her head up straight. She would suddenly let out a cry if any of the staff tried to set her up more right in the chair. She would swing at them and scream! Otherwise she would just set there and stare at nothing in particular while drooling all over a bib she wore.
I later come to learn what had happened to her, the day happened she was home alone when a boy came by riding a three-wheeler and asked if she would like to go for a ride? She jumped at the chance and they rode off with her on the back to an open field where the young man tried to show off. He gunned the three wheeler and popped the clutch, which cause the ATV to launch upward. And it flipped over backward and the handlebars landed on the young woman’s head and crushing her skull. She was not wearing a helmet, which sounds like one of those horrors stories parents tell their children to get them to not ride if not wearing a helmet. But this was all too real and the young man was OK, but now she is reduced to living in what seems such a frightening world to her.
I felt such pity for her except for when she would let out such a horrifying scream often in the early morning! At such times only a select few of the staff could console her. Otherwise she would continue to scream waking everyone and making the place as disturbed as she is. But there were times that the only one who could console her was her sister who they would have to call no matter what the time was.
There was an older man who seemed pleasant enough to be around, often talking about things he knew well in better days. That is unless the person close happened to be a woman he would then attempt to fondle them by reaching out and grasping their breasts. Or if especially close, their groin so as time passed he and I often ended up setting close to each other.
I would later ask about his behavior when someone came to visit and came to be told he was one of the most pious men you would have ever meant. But his present behaviors had came from him having a stroke, a blockage of blood flow to the brain. It was not uncommon when there has been damage to the brain there could be a total change in personality happen.
There were several others who ranged from having difficulties walking to problems thinking.
At this time I seem to be have problems with both so I would be reminded if I brought it up to any of the staff. To focus more on my own problems, which those problems were yet to be understood by me.
I ate breakfast and was asked if I want to be in the dayroom or go back to my room? I felt such a need to set in quiet and just try to reason out what the hell had happen. That I asked to go back to my room and was wheeled back.
I laid in my room staring at the walls and thinking of all the possible reasons for awakening in such a strange place and circumstance. But I found without more information and reasoning to figure out the whys and how’s it just seemed impossible. But that information was not coming, questions asked would go unanswered and at best the answer would be to wait for the next time I would talk with my therapist? There was no time given as to when that would be.
After a bit, a staff member came to my door and asked if I was ready to go to the dayroom and be with the others? I agreed and was once again put in a wheel chair and roll to the same room the breakfast was served in. Again I was in the company of the same people I had breakfast with, this time I was place close to the older man who was also in a wheelchair. We started talking and he really was interesting to talk to about his business.
My mind was such that other then the very simplest things I would be lost and confused to such an extent that it hurt to think. So it was for the best to just set and allow what ever would come to me at the minute. I was setting there talking with him, when I was called to come with someone who had came through the door. She smiled and rolled me to an office in a different part of the floor where she told me she was a therapist who would help me with my memory. That seemed Ok as I was realizing I was having problems.
I still felt lost and confused from being in a situation and a place that was totally alien to me.
My mind would process, but the information had to be something that was seeable and right in front of me. Not Involving too much or too rapidly, or involving much more then yesterday. For me much more then had happen since being awoken by the girl screaming was not there. She asked me if I knew what today was?
I had no idea, in a totally new environment and a totally new routine I could not tell if this was normal for a week day or weekend. Little alone even the day of the month. which of course was the next question? Having no idea exactly how long I have been there or the month I had arrived, I was barely sure I was even in her office! She asked if I knew what year it was? I thought surely I had not been there too long so I guessed from the year that I could remember it being, nineteen ninety eight to the best of my guess.
You could have knocked me over with a breath when she finally told me it was two thousand nine! Thinking was so difficult that to go too far back, in my memory only caused my head to hurt and made me feel more lost. Almost nothing that had happened in the last two to three years was in my head. As a memory or a thought of what has happened in life. Some of which when I was made aware of caused pain and lost, there seemed no dependence on if it was important or not.
But I wanted to know those things and would ask about them like someone that had missed episodes of their favor show and needed caught up. But unlike some show, this was my life and part of my living so it would be far too personal to hear. Each new revelation and especially that which was not pleasant to know would hit like a blow to my guts. That was something it turns out my wife was warned about and told to be careful of. As such getting some information out of her was like pulling hen’s teeth, also I could see in her eyes that it would cause her to suffer pain that she had overcome. Seeing my pain than too would cause her to feel those pains anew, which would show in her eyes. These sights were burned deep within me and even today as I write this brings them back.
The best example of this is when I asked about her mother, I had known her family since I was five. And her parents and my own were best friends, her family felt more as being my own. Her face turned ashen and she finally managed to say, “don’t you remember mom died?”. Since she was so special to me, learning of her death was a total shock to me and something that really brought home just how much I had lost and been effected!
I can not express as I wish I could to someone who has never experienced such things.
Just what it feels like and the effect it has on someone who has, You have lost a period of time in life.
It leaves such a hole that it is hard to over come, along with pain it is total confusion as to what happened. The current year is so off and to be corrected, Leaves a burning knot in the soul, stomach and mind. It leaves such a feeling of lost that no amount of consoling seems to ease it. All I could do is come to the conclusion that I needed to just move on and work on other things.
Of which there seemed to be no shortage of, as the list grew larger as time passed. Filling holes in my memory and personal time line became such a preoccupation to me and cause such a hardship.
For those family members who cared about me, I am sure it could be so confusing for them too.
What I had forgotten seemed to be so random and mystifying as to how could I have forgotten?
The matter and importance did not seem to cause something to have stuck in my mind, it was more like selective memory. That was maddening to me as how could I have forgotten that yet remembers this piece of information? I just was not sure of the time period involved, which make it difficult to relate to. since I had yet to understand that it had not been years since I had the heart attack.
The lack of knowledge as to what had happen in the last few years, tended to make me think that it had in fact been years since I had been afflicted.
It truly brings up the question in general as to how the mind remembers information and accesses it? But that is not solely a question for those who have suffered something that effects the mind and memory. I still had to not only deal with such questions but to deal with new and different information and memories. This was all being done in a totally new environment with new people and a new place. But for now it would have to be taken as it came and what and when it was to be recalled.
As thinking seemed so limited and the ability to do so was being so taxed. It did seem so important to learn the current situation. Names, the current date, where my room was and where the differing offices were.
I seem to be able to adapt to the routine as it would be explained often and as needed when I would forget it. What to do in the morning when awoken, what to take with me when called to therapy and what was to happen that day. It was finally brought to me attention there was a board on the wall that outlined the day’s activities. Each person’s name was on that board and their agenda for the day, therapy, fun activates or just be there. The routine of going to that board first thing in the morning and writing it down in my notebook was necessary.
I soon Seemed to just quit thinking at all and got resentful of being forced to think. Which of course was the job of the therapists to force me to think, reason and to recall information that in everyday life is considered minor. I say minor because overall though the current date is important for appointments and the like. Most things that happen could happen on any given day so it is the happening that is the important thing not the date. But when the issue is made of the date and not remembering the occurrences it only serves to make the matter maddening.
Especially when someone’s mind is clouded with confusion and limited ability to maintain thought. At such times it is more important to let the mind to process at its own speed. To force the mind to have to process minor data along with the more important. Causes more confusion and harmful problems Making it more maddening to the person then need be. But the conclusion to make a point come more from a mind that does not understand the mindset of the patient. It ends up like forcing someone with one foot tied up to run a race.
Don’t get me wrong, I am not saying this is done to amuse the witness but more out of some misguided sense of doing something to help. The question remains that if allowed to simply continue to process And struggle with the problem would not the mind adjust at its own ability. I found that to be the case In spite of their intentions and processes, my mind did finally move and adapt at its own speed.
All that the organized attempts seem to do was to cloud issues and cause the mind to be misaligned. Rather then to focus on what is wrong it would be forced to continue to focus on the caused problems. But still containing the old misaligned thoughts and memories that caused some blockages to the current thoughts.
But so it was that I was to dance like a worn out Shetland pony in that small three-ring circus.
So I would lift this foot and stand on that foot. Trying to appease my trainer and dance for the audience that would witness my dance of confusion and pain. Such as it is for the poor soul who is suffering mental and emotional downfalls. As you might guess it is nothing like an enjoyable circus for the patient rather as I refer to. It is as scary as living the tale of Alice through the looking glass and
Just as frightening for them.
I would continue the routine every Monday through Friday and that would cause such confusion, as it made those days hard to pick out as to which was which. Only the weekend were different and then it would be more relaxed and often with some trip. I would not want to miss those trips, as an excuse to leave the confines was an opening out of the organized madness. I could then deal with the present day at its occurrence. What would be right in front of me would be easier to deal with over what should be a matter of dealing with what should be in my mind to recall.
Only the everyday routine that would be the same and regular became somewhat of a comfort even though some of that was not desirable. The scheduled shots and meds, I have never liked or wanted injections and one regular occurrence would be my insulin shots one would occur in the early morning and involved waking me up. It came to be when the door would open and the nurse would walk in, before she would say anything. My arm would shoot out from under the covers and be held out for the injection. It was not that I wanted it or felt the need for it. But rather simply because it was something I knew was coming and there was no way of avoiding.
It Got where any time the door would open and someone wearing scrubs would be there my arm would shoot out. They got to where they would laugh at it and say “no I am not here to shoot you!”.
The needle for an insulin injection are not all that big so they truly do not hurt but to draw blood would be such a surprise that I hated being so compliant. Suddenly feeling the rubber restricting band being wrapped around my arm. Would tell me that it was not the insulin shot I was about to be receiving.
At those time it would feel as if the needle was being left in for a long time to remind me I was getting a shot. Little did I know there would be a day coming when they would be drawing spinal fluid for a test! Fortunate for me it would come at a later date when I had regained enough of my faculties to maintain my control and mental processes. But that is a tale to be told later, for now it was still the white rabbits and strange characters of wonderland to deal with.
Getting up and dressed went from being forced, to being resigned to it having to be done. For now I was a prisoner and this was the prison’s routine, it was not considered necessary that I agree or understand it. It was required and I had no choice in it! Fortunately the staff members are not monsters or so overwhelming as prison guards though some would seem to be over powering and insistent rather then to try and consult with the patient to get them to comply. One nurse for me became someone I hate to see on duty, she would seem so rude and angry that seeing her would cause me to shutter.
But to her defense, this could not be a very easy job for anyone since you are dealing with adults who have been reduced to not much better then unruly and could be spoiled children. Some being big enough to lift that nurse and throws her across the room!
For the most part though, I would come to think that there should be a special part in heaven for these people who would deal with people like me who had found themselves in such a unit and with such problems. Yes God blesses Mary-Ann and the rest for what they did for the others and me…Though at the time I dreaded the sight of them coming through the door in the morning.
It would mean I would be gotten up or have to endure some painful thing happening. Something to remember is that for the patient there is always the feeling that there is not enough time given to just think things out. When that is what is felt like is needed to be done to come to the right conclusion.
I Kept feeling like the right answer was still there; it was just that the question was too rapid for the correct answer to come out. Later it would come to me that though the correct answer was there it was not coming out to the current question or would be so dated that it was passed due. Imagine that you are taking a test but the answers available to you are from a test from last week. They are correct answers but not for the test being taken. So the questions are not even related to the task you are thinking it is.
Such is what it is like to be assaulted with these mental problems and what it is like to be a patient suffering from them. It certainly makes the world to seem like it is them and not you who are suffering. They are the ones confused and you are the one who has to try and correct the problems they are having. Often a losing battle for them and me both since both is trying to fix the other one’s problems.
While neither seems to be able to bring the correct answer to the other one’s satisfaction? You are trying to convince the other that blue is yellow and red is green. It finally became where I would go along to get along. Never actually accepting that their answer was the correct one just the easiest to end the argument. Let them have their delusions and play nicely with others since it became less important for you to be right. I could never let myself forget, going home was not a matter of me being right it was play along with their delusions. So yes that bright color that reflects the color of the sun is blue and the darker color that is that of sky is the yellow!
The other side of that same coin was the other patients, since they were having their own delusions. And would be seeing the colors in their own prospective, there was no point in arguing with them either. A score card might be needed in order to keep the correct perceptions depending on who you were talking to at the moment. There just seemed to be nothing easy about this whole being in a situation of being mental impaired. I being poor Alice, who fell through that rabbit hole, I would be stuck with going along to get along while trying not to be as mixed up as the White Rabbit, mad hatter or perhaps the Queen’s many card troops. But not to sell short my own problems that would come to the forefront without warning or desire.