For those who wanted it.

Several people wrote me, saying that I had to talk about what people felt in my stories that I have recently written. Maybe it is just that story writing is not the same as poem writing for me. There is a disconnect when I think of the story in my head, and when I write it down for someone to view it, the feelings that I had in my mind at the time have been lost to the ether.

I could write this.

The feelings of the flower's soft light hitting my eyes as I woke up were startling. I had a rush of emotion that I could not tell if it was pride at having fallen right here next to this slice of heaven, or fear that I had fallen in the first place. Why in the world was I lying here on the ground with my face inches from a flower in the first place. Then it hit me.

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You see I left you hanging, though I gave you a lot of emotional terms for you to use as you read the story. But it is first person, and I deal that way best in my writing, so I have a hard time at times getting into the head of someone else, even if they are in the same story as "My guy" is. Call it my own laziness if you will, or my own lack of willingness to stretch my stories beyond the juvenile, plain Jane bland high school fiction, As someone once told me in a comment line. But so that readers don't complain that I made them work at it themselves, I'll tell you a bit more about the fall guy above.

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This was a dream. I woke up with a bit of a rush after that thought and felt my aching big toe and the knee where the floor had so rudely impacted me last night. There I was up sitting in the only big comfy chair in the room and I was finally getting sleepy. Time to go to bed, I could not remember the last place in my latest story I had left off at, so I lumber up and remember to avoid the foot stool. Only to hit the printer cabinets wheel with my left big toe and down I go in the dark. I tried hard to not fall one way, but did hit pretty hard on my left knee and hand, bumping the stereo cabinet. Lucky for me I am only 9,000 pounds and it is heavier than I am. (Okay I am only about 300, but at times of falling you feel heavier when you think about your hurting knee). The large grandfather mantle clock which is over 120 years old, is rattling and the springs and chimes are ringing in it. Something else up there has fallen over and I am fearful of things falling on my head to add insult to injury. Here I am waiting for someone to have heard me and then I am hoping they don't because I did not want to wake anyone up.

My dad shows up, asking if I am alright. I tell him I don't think so, I can't tell if this is blood on my finger or not, that it wasn't did not hurt my feelings much. Then getting up was an issue. I am not easy to get up from the ground, my legs and knees and back were having issues with it. But I have had knee trouble for almost all my life, to much something or other as a kid I wager. I got up on my own, but now I was not in the least bit sleepy. But I went to bed anyway. Hours later I get this odd dream. Then hours later after that I write the above story. Which on the one hand looks just like my other fictional stories, but was in truth fact.

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There you go folks, feelings and fact all rolled up into a bit of fictional power playing, or rather non-fictional powered falling.

Several people did get a new fiction story in their emails, I'll post it later.

Hugs,
peace of the Lord
Charles.