End of the World ~ December Blog Chain

Time for another blog chain from Absolute Write.  This month's theme is the end of the world.  After reading my attempt at destruction, check out my fellow AWers' posts linked below.  Enjoy!


They were right.  Mara hated to admit it, but they were right.  The end of the world was here.  It had nothing to do with the Mayans, but that didn’t matter.  The only thing that mattered was staying alive.

She laughed, the sound hollow to her cold ears.  Staying alive.  Yeah right.  She knelt down and braced herself against the brick wall, which was the only shelter from the sleeting rain.  Then she checked her weapon, the cold steel heavy in her hand.  She hated it.  The killing.  She was trained to be a teacher not a murderer.  But she’d already lost track of how many people she’d shot.  It was a necessity; she didn’t take any comfort from that, though.

The world was decimated from war.  The United States were no longer united; half the country had been blown apart.  The eastern coast was gone, the west shaken apart by earthquakes.  And the south had been invaded weeks ago but not by the Mexicans.  Mara wasn’t sure who was leading that charge.  She had taken refuge in the north, sure that was her best option.  But as she peeked her head around the corner, she was reminded of how wrong she’d been.  The Canadians had crossed the border to ravage what was left of the country.  There was nobody to stop them.  The commander-in-chief was killed when D.C. was bombed along with most members of his cabinet.  Those who were left had fled to who knew where.

Mara shook the icy drops of rain from her head.  She needed to get to the supply truck across the street.  She was out of food and had only a small amount of water in her canteen.  She peeked her head around the corner once more.  The two Canadian soldiers had their backs to her.  She darted across the pavement, then slid to a halt next to the passenger side of the vehicle.  Hearing no footsteps, she opened the door to rummage through the contents.  After shoving a few protein bars in her coat pocket, she filled her canteen.

“Hey!”

 The voice startled her.  She dropped to the ground as shots rang out.  Her own gun fired in response.  Then she ran her sleeve across her face to block out the sight in front of her.  The accuracy with which she shot would make a marksman proud.  But there was no time to mourn; more soldiers would be coming.  Mara thought she could already hear footsteps.

She hurried across the street, then slid behind a dumpster while cursing the sleet covered ground.  She glanced at the sky.  Mother Nature was retaliating, trying to cleanse itself of the corruption that had overtaken the planet.  Mara wondered why the earth didn’t just open up to consume all that was left. 

Hearing voices now, she crawled to the corner before looking down the alley.  Three men stared back at her.  Heart pounding, Mara jumped up and then ran as fast as her feet would go, the men running after her.  She stumbled, then fell, before the shot echoed in her ears.  The burning in her chest spread throughout her body.  Her mind screamed for her to get up, but her body wouldn’t respond to the command.  So this was it.  The three men made their way to her; two stood a few feet away while the third stepped right next to her.  Mara’s eyes were growing heavy, but she fought to look at the man who held his gun pointed at her head.  “Why?” she asked before coughing.  Why had it come to this, to people killing each other for no reason? Mara didn’t want this; she didn’t want to die.  But she didn’t want to fight anymore either.  She wasn’t even sure of what she was fighting against.  The man knelt and pressed his gun to her forehead.  She closed her eyes and hoped the earth would somehow recover when the world war was over and spring forth life again.


Please check out the following posts below for some more good reading:

orion_mk3
dolores haze
randi.lee
writingismypassion (you are here)
bmadsen
Ralph Pines
AllieKat
MsLaylaCakes
katci13
Angyl78
pyrosama
Araenvo
CJ Michaels
SuzanneSeese
gell214
SRHowen
more to come...

Fire and Ice ~ August AW Blog Chain

Time for the August AW Blog Chain. This month's prompt is Fire & Ice. As usual, the post can be fiction or non-fiction. For those of you unfamiliar with the chain, please read my fictional post and then take a look at what the other participants had to say. The links are listed below. Thanks!


Pain shot through her fingers as she gripped the door handle.  She let go, thankful her hands weren’t numb yet.  She rubbed them together.  Maybe there was no use trying to get out.  Even if she wanted, she’d never be able to open the door.  The freak storm which had left behind several inches of ice had her trapped.  The room she now occupied was a mere four degrees warmer than outside.  She’d never experienced such an extreme cold.  But she didn’t really mind.  The rage that burned within her was enough.  For now.

She could no longer walk, so she crawled across the floor in search of anything she could use to break a window and the layer of ice which covered it.  If she survived, her feet would be amputated because of frostbite.  Perhaps her hands would be, too.  It wouldn’t be long before she could no longer use them.  Still, she was determined.

Finally, she located a hammer and eased her way back to the window.  Her first swing barely cracked the glass.  Gritting her teeth against the pain and the cold, she swung again.  And again.  And again.  But her arms soon gave out; the ice was thicker than she thought.  Slumping against the door, she imagined him lying on the ground somewhere.  Was he suffering worse than she? She hoped so as she gasped for one more breath.  He deserved no less for leaving her to die.



Now, check out the following:
orion_mk3
Ralph Pines
areteus
Catherine Hall
bmadsen
pyrosama
meowzbark
BBBurke
writingismypassion (YOU ARE HERE)
wonderactivist
SuzanneSeese
randi.lee
Proach
BigWords

Your Life Is Not Your Own

Our church recently lost a wonderful lady due to a heart attack.  She was a Sunday School teacher and a bus driver.  In fact, she was driving the bus when she had the heart attack.  Thankfully, she was able to get the bus off the road and no kids were seriously injured.  Her death was a shock to everyone.  Though we believe she is celebrating with Jesus, her loss is still sad.

When faced with death, I can't help but think about our illusion of control.  We often live our lives as if we are in charge.  We do what we want when we want.  And we might even live a cautious life.  But we can't escape death.  We don't plan it.  It just happens, unexpectedly most the time.  For instance, we can be the best driver on the road, but that doesn't protect us from bad drivers.  Even though we think we can control our lives, we can't control everything around us.  We can't control tornadoes or fires or earthquakes or hurricanes.

Several years ago I drove past the scene of an accident, and there was a tarp covering the front of one of the vehicles.  For those of you that don't know, a tarp means there's a body to be shielded from viewers.  Some one died that day.  And I was struck with what must have been going through that person's mind.  Was it just another day of running errands? Were they traveling? Did they wake up that day knowing it would be their last? Of course not.  In a matter of seconds, their life ended.  And I think about a girl from my hometown who was having routine shoulder surgery; she didn't live through it.  And the kid who was playing basketball with his buddies, and his heart just gave out; he collapsed and died almost instantly.  Then there's the guy who was driving down the road I live on.  He struck another vehicle and died immediately.  More than a year later, I still think about him when I drive past where he died.  All these people were just going about their day, doing nothing unusual.  And their lives ended, just like that. 

All this is just a reminder of one simple fact: our lives are not our own.  We are not in charge. 

Raising Chickens~Part II

**Continued from yesterday's post**

Thanks for coming back! Now, where was I? Oh yes...

Late in the year, we decided it was time to build a new home for the remaining hens.  They barely fit inside the box they were sleeping in and would need more adequate shelter for the winter months.  My husband and his brother got to work building a new coop.  My other brother-in-law also helped, and between me and the three of them, we got the coop moved from the garage to our back yard.  Then we moved the hens out of Motel 6 and into the Hilton.  During the winter, we had no problems with the chickens.  I didn't particularly enjoy being outside at 6:30 in the morning when it was ten degrees out, or checking on them at night, but the hens had to be fed and watered.  The hens stayed nice and cozy...until Spring came.

One of the hens became sick.  She could get herself out of the coop but then had to prop herself up against any convenient item she was able to find.  She couldn't even bend down.  Her sides began to swell at an alarming rate, and after a few days, we decided to end her suffering since she couldn't eat, drink, or hold herself up.  Not quite two weeks later, I had let the chickens out of the coop so they could run around the yard, get their fill of grass and bugs, and take some dirt baths.  When I went to put them away, I noticed my one remaining white chicken sitting by my house.  Now, when it starts to get late and they're ready for bed, I can usually pick them up without them fussing.  I was able to do this with the white hen and assumed she was ready to sleep.  However, as I carried her, I noticed another hen a few feet in front of the coop.  She was dead.  My first thought was the chicken that had been sick passed on a disease to my other hens.  I set the white hen down and began looking for the other hens.  Within minutes, my poor white hen was on her side, flapping her wings sporadically.  She gave out a couple cries and was then quiet, and still.  A quick inspection confirmed that she, too, was dead.  The next morning, another had died, and I had no idea what to do.  My husband called a friend of ours who raises chickens and the cause of death was discovered: GNATS! They were really thick around our house and the chicken coop.  Our friend informed us that chickens can go into shock and die if they are bit too many times by gnats and that gnats can clog the orifices on the chickens.  Who knew? I didn't! Learning this helped me to understand why my hens were suddenly hiding under my shed when I let them out- they were trying to get away from the tiny buggers! A fourth chicken soon went missing, and I still believe she crawled off and died somewhere.  Our chicken count was now dwindled down to five.

A very large raccoon more recently devoured one of the hens before I got them put away one evening which left us with four hens.  About a week ago, another hen went missing and I assumed she was also eaten.  Imagine my surprise when my husband called the day before yesterday to let me know he found the dead hen by the opening to our crawlspace.  How she got there, I don't know.  She could have jumped in, but none of the chickens have ever done so.  And the hole was barely a foot deep so she should have been able to jump out or fly out.  Perhaps the heat was too much for her, though. 

Alas, we are now down to three hens.  Egg production and sales have skidded to a halt, which isn't a big deal.  I feel bad, though.  I didn't cause the death of this hen, but I feel responsible.  I remember my husband and I standing not twenty feet away, discussing her disappearance that evening.  She was probably still alive in that hole, but I never thought to look for her there.

My husband is ready to buy more chickens, but I'm not because most of the responsibility is mine.  It's been an adventure, that's for sure.  I've been scratched multiple times; I even have a few scars.  And one chicken almost pecked my eye out.  In its defense, I don't think it was trying to.  I had a hair hanging in front of my face and I think the chicken wanted it.  Good thing I closed my eye soon enough.  The chicken got a piece of skin off my eyelid instead of the hair or my eye.

That's it for now.  We're down to three chickens and there will be more stories to share later on.  And next year, I'm sure we'll buy more.  But not twenty-five.