Real Life Inspires – Cloud Wrangler (Fridays Free-for-all)

cloud wrangler

Q: Is any of your fiction true? Do you write about real life?

A: Well yes and no. For example a visit to Rockford Illinois for my granddaughter’s graduation inspired the following scene which takes place somewhere in the historical Lake-Peterson House.

Our dog Leia was the inspiration for the physical description of Gus and that is her on the cover.

Leia as Gus (1024x714)

There is some truth in the fiction I write. I will leave it up to the reader to decide where that truth lies.

 

Chapter Twenty Five

Mary paced the empty hallway on the third floor of the ancient house. She counted fifteen steps from one lamp to the next and wondered if the people below could hear her. The dark corridor seemed to grow shorter with each lap along with her patience. She considered unlocking her mind so she could tap into the thoughts of those around her but intuition advised against it. Occasionally she paused to listen at the door; each time she found the words indecipherable and returned to pacing until a gentle creak caused her to stop.

“You may go in now.” A flat voice announced as the heavy door gave way. Sunbeams flooded the hallway and Mary squinted at the figure in front of her; at the starched white cap and unwieldy dress which were as outdated as the house.

“Thank you.” Mary stepped forward and warmly squeezed the woman’s shoulders. Her affections were met with a rigid withdrawal but not before she could catch a glimpse of the nurse’s frontal imaginings.  As her eyes adjusted to the light she could better see the nurse’s features; her round face as stiff as her attire looked like a plate cemented between the pinned head covering and cinched collar.

“Thank you.” Mary reiterated with less affection as she slid past the nurse and closed the door behind her.

The floorboards groaned as Mary hobbled across the oversized space toward a single bed in the corner. Jim glanced up, forced a smile and promptly turned his attention back to his wife.

“How are y’all?” Mary anxiously inquired as she cast an eye over the new parents.

“We… we’re all fine.” Clara mumbled, straining to open her eyes.

“Where are the babies?” Mary asked, glancing suspiciously around the bare room.

“One of the nurses took them over to the hospital – said they had to be examined – tests and shots – routine stuff.” Jim explained as if trying to assure himself.  “They will bring them back as soon as they’re finished… as soon as they make sure they’re both in good health.” His voice trailed as he tenderly bathed Clara’s pale face.

“That makes sense.” Mary tried to sound convincing but the smell of sweat and panic made it difficult. She lifted Clara’s moist flaccid hand and asked, “How are you sweetie?”

“I can’t…”  Clara whispered, gasping between words, “can’t … hear… Frieda.”

“Don’t worry love.” Jim paused briefly to blot his own forehead and neck before sweeping the salty cloth across his wife’s.

“Mama?” Clara’s eyes fluttered.

“Something is wrong!” The vision appeared as red paint flowing over a white canvas and Mary yanked the sheet back. Doc! Mary opened the vault of her subconscious, honed her thoughts on the old doctor and yelled.  Doc! Hurry! Her brain was inundated with voices and images as the internal walls fell away; the extrasensory chaos proved to be too much and she collapsed on the floor.

__

When Mary came to she could see the doctor standing over Clara, pressing and massaging her abdomen. A bottle of clear liquid hung at the head of the bed and a pile of blood stained sheets littered the floor around them.

“She’ll be okay now. We just have to let the medicine do its work and keep the fundus firm.”  He spoke in a casual manner. “Fetch me another bag of special blend Gus and be careful not to puncture this one.”  The white shepherd sprinted to the door, his claws creating a rapid rhythmic tap against the wooden floor as he ran.

“Do you think he will speak to me?” Jim stood in the same spot, still sponging his wife’s face as he spoke but the scent of panic had lessened.

“Maybe.” The doctor replied suppressing any signs of optimism yet Mary could see the previous conversation between Doc and Gus.  She grinned as she raised herself to a standing position. The shepherd would soon have a new home.

“I guess the sight of all that blood got to you. Are you okay now?” Jim asked without taking his eyes off of Clara.

“I guess so.” Mary laughed, rubbing the small lump on her head. “Our girl definitely looks a lot better.” She said, running her fingers across Clara’s rosy complexion. “What happened? Why did she bleed so much?”

“That happens sometimes, especially with twins.” Mary accepted the doctor’s verbal response without debate as he knew she would. The truth of the matter would be kept secret between the two of them for the time being. If Jim learned of the attempted murder he would retaliate and that could put Doc and Gus in a dangerous situation. “Good boy!” the doctor took the pint sized plastic container from the dog’s mouth. “You rub the fundus just like I showed you James.” He said as he quickly inserted a fifty milliliter syringe, filled it with the thick crimson liquid and injected it directly into the intravenous line. He repeated the process nine more times until the bag was empty and the bottle overhead was dry.

“When can I have my babies?” An invigorated Clara sprung up and demanded, “I want Fritz and Frieda right now. If they are not here in five minutes I will go and get them myself.”

“Are you sure you are capable of handling them right now?” Doc asked.

“I am more than capable.” Clara took the salty half-damp cloth, snatched the I.V. from her arm and applied pressure. “I believe I am capable of taking this place down and everyone in my path to get to my children.”

“I believe you.” The old doctor smiled.

“What did you give her?” Jim shook his head and laughed, “An hour ago I was afraid I was losing her – now I’m just afraid of her.”

“You have nothing to fear.” The doctor’s face lit up with a shrewd grin, “As long as you are one of the good guys.”

“I’ll tell my nurse to bring the babies now.”

Within minutes a lovely petit woman entered the room with a bundle in each arm.

“I hear the new mommy is anxious to hold her little ones.”

“Oh yes.” Clara cried, extending her arms.

The nurse carefully placed the infants in their mother’s arms.  Frieda was nestled on the right and Fritz on the left. The twins instinctively turned their face to Clara’s breasts and began rooting and grunting. She in turn lifted her blouse and guided each mouth to an engorged nipple, welcoming the throbbing and stinging as they gulped.

“I have never seen anything so beautiful.” Jim’s voiced cracked as he spoke. “I have never felt so blessed.” He glanced at the others around him. Mary sniffled and held her hand to her mouth, the old doctor nodded and smiled and the white shepherd pawed at the tears streaming down his snout.

Cloud Wrangler is available at your favorite e-book store.

 

Between the Rage & Grace Chapter 15 (Fridays Free For- All)

Three women, three very different backgrounds and the roads that all lead to one place, somewhere Between the Rage and Grace.

Inside a small hospital, in a rural Texas town there is a peculiar camaraderie evolving.  Clara O’Bromley (fresh out of college) is assigned to ICU, which is no small feat. She has her supervisor, Linda Latrull to thank for that, and for placing her under the direction of a foul-mouthed debutante named Maggie Turner. Maggie is happy to take the young nurse under her wing until she learns that Clara can read more than EKG’s. Clara herself is unaware of this ability until she sees into the past; a past Maggie and Linda both have gone to great lengths to hide.

Chapter 15

CLAN DESTINY BOOK JANNA HILL (800x1280)“Clara Bell!” Mr. O’Bromley roared as his daughter strolled into the hostelry, “Give your dear old dad a hug.” He grabbed Clara before she could get her lab coat off.
“Hey Daddy.” She said, pecking him on the cheek, “Where’s Mama?”
“I should’ve known it weren’t me you come to see.” He frowned and then winked, “Your ma is out back. Have a seat and I’ll holler at her.”

Clara helped herself to a coffee and warm raisin danish before taking a seat in the corner booth. She had barely settled in and creamed her coffee when Mrs. O’Bromley came shuffling across the dining room. Clara stood to hug her mother and after a quick embrace Mrs. O’Bromley said, “Sit back down. I know you got something on your mind when you pick this seat.”
“Oh really? Clara sneered in jest.
“You know it’s the truth so don’t play coy with me child, she said sliding in to the opposing seat, “You just missed Jimbo.”
“Aww. Did he eat a good breakfast?”
“You know he did, there ain’t a thing wrong with that man’s appetite. But I believe he worries a bit too much about you.” Mrs. O’Bromley said with a raised brow.
“I’ve been having some crazy dreams Mama or nightmares really. And lately visions pop in my head; sometimes it’s like looking on at a thing and other times it feels like I’m the one doing the thing.”
“Go on.”
“Well I’ve heard you talk about clairvoyants most of my life and I was just wondering… do you think I’m one?”
“I don’t know. A better question is what do you think?”
“I’m at a loss — that’s why I came to you.” Clara said picking the raisins from her pastry.
“Let’s see…. have you ever known the future before it came to pass?”
“No, I don’t think I’ve seen the future… maybe the past.”
“Can you read my mind? Right now, can you read my mind?”
Clara strained for a few seconds and said, “You’re thinking you need to put a roast on for the lunch crowd?”
“That was a guess Clara! You know my routine. Try again.”
They both sat quietly for over a minute, maybe two until the frustrated Clara said,
“Nothing. I don’t see anything. So what now?”
“I’m not an expert Clara; I don’t know how the mind works. I do know there are folks that can and I’m not talking about some circus clown that’s good at reading peoples body language or personality.”
“Like you saying I’d marry Jim?”
“Yep. But anything I see comes random and I don’t call myself a clairvoyant. Tell me more about these visions and dreams and when it was they happened.”
Clara spent the next hour telling her mother about the nightmare with the dying patient and Maggie. The vision she had of Maggie’s brutal beating and the trance like state where she told Maggie it was her husband who beat her as well as a few other things that had been happening.
“You have some sort of gift, but I don’t know what it is or what to call it.” Mrs. O’Bromley said tapping her finger to her chin.
“I wouldn’t call it a gift Mama. What good does it do me or anyone else to see things after the fact? Or things that I can’t do anything to change? Maybe it’s a curse.”
“Don’t you doubt God and all his nature!” Her mother scolded, “Ain’t up to us to decide what we get and when — just figure out how to use it. Didn’t you say that patient told you to tell somebody something? Something about Omaha?”
“Olam-ha-ba.” Clara laughed, “I tried to look it up to see what it meant but it’s not in the dictionary. You think she wanted me to tell them to go to Omaha?”
“Better not say that, they’re liable to believe you and make the trip for nothing.”
Clara and Mrs. O’Bromley laughed heartily.
“Yeah.” Clara spit between gasps of humor “I can see me calling her daughter and saying, ‘your mom came to me after she died and said she wants you to go to Omaha’.”
“Ask her if I can go too.” Mrs. O’Bromley snorted, “I’ve never been to Nebraska.”
The women were in hysterics when they saw Mr. O’Bromley standing stone faced at the head of the table.
“What’s the matter Daddy?” Clara asked trying to appear more solemn. Mrs. O’Bromley was cooing a loud ahhh and wiping her eyes with the tail of her apron.
“You girls having fun are you?”
They both nodded and started to giggle again.
“And at the expense of a dead woman’s dying wish, no doubt. Shame on the both of ya!”
The stout gray-haired Irishman stood over the women shaking his head in slow motion, from side to side with each turn implying another shame on you.
“I’m sorry Dad.” Clara did feel slightly ashamed and soberly replied, “I hadn’t considered it like that. Honestly. I apologize.”
“It was inconsiderate but `taint me ya ought to be apologizing to, you best deliver that poor soul’s message to her family at first chance.” Turning to look at his wife Mr. O’Bromley sighed with disappointment, “And you Mary O’Bromley… knowing the gifts of spirit ye yourself possess and all but mocking with your jokes of Omaha and bustin’ at the seams.”
Clara almost lost her composure again but his stern tone kept it in check as he glanced at her then back to continue the rebuke of her mother, “Did you ever tell little Clara why you named her such?”
Clara looked puzzled turning to Mrs. O’Bromley, who was indicating no with a vigorous shake of her head.
“Weren’t any need to tell her before. I thought it were just a vain vision.”
“What do you mean?” Clara inquired looking back and forth at the two fixed in a staring contest of sorts.
“Your mother,” Mr. O’Bromley said, “seen herself having a pale eyed girl even when the doctor told her she weren’t able to bear children. She had a faulty womb ya know. Not only that but she also proclaimed the babe would have the gift of seeing. That’s what started her on the way of always talking about clairvoyants. She believed it so much she named you Clara three years `fore you were ever born.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that Mama?”
“Never had the opportunity or reason ‘fore now. I told you I have no idea what to call it or how to use it. Sometimes it’s best to keep ones mouth shut!” she said staring straight at her husband.
“What do you think about it Daddy?” Clara asked, looking to her father for direction.
“I think you should welcome it Clara Bell.” He said, softly smiling down on his daughter, “Take it for what it is- no more, no less.” He paused making Clara believe the next words would be filled with insight and she waited assiduously for him to continue, “And if you don’t know what to do with it…” he drew the pause further until his audience was captivated and announced, “Take it to Omaha.”
Laughter erupted as the old man slapped his knee with delight.

“Drinks on the house.” He chuckled, knowing there wasn’t a patron on the premises.

Between the Rage & Grace step fiveBetween the Rage & Grace can be purchased at your favorite  e-book retailer  HERE.

Paperback @ Amazon HERE

Here’s a tidbit: The cover was designed from a series of photos I took. I kind of like how it turned out. 🙂