So…winter.

It would seem that I have now seen more snow after this last storm than I have at any other point in my life that I can remember.

(Those of you that are snickering about how bad my memory is can just shut right up. 😉 )

Good ol’ WV received a whopping 18″ of snow in just a couple of days.  Now I realize that a lot of you northerners are just chuckling good-naturedly about how “cute it is that they think that’s a LOT of snow”.

But to southern folk, it IS.  It’s like a frozen hell on Earth.  It enthralled me to the point where I didn’t write for almost three days.  Granted I didn’t sit staring out at the window for hours at it like one of the cats, but still…that was a ridiculous amount of snow.

So much fell, in fact, that my wife’s office building completely closed down.  That didn’t sound like much until she told me that in all of her time working there…over 15 years…that building has NEVER completely closed.  Not once.  Ever.

Daaaaaaamn.

Also, the state closed all roads down.  Only emergency medical and rescue vehicles could legally travel during the worst parts of the storm.  That did impress me considering that this is a mountain state that has experienced big snowfalls before.

It’s not like back home in NC, where a single INCH of snow causes a mass exodus of bread and milk from grocery store shelves and a condition I can only describe as HPSP* overcomes the populace.

Up here milk and bread also vanished but the general response to the whole situation was a lot more relaxed.  It was rather peaceful, even.

Different strokes for different folks, I suppose.

But enough of that.  I’m gonna go eat some bread and drink some milk.

I have extra.

Just because.

 

 

 

 

(* Hidden Pants-Sh$%#@ng Panic)

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Keeping the ‘pen’ busy…

A Matter of Perspective

Dwaine Ennis 1/11/16

 

My people are dying.

Before the now, long ago but still within memory, my people and I came to be.  We knew not of what had been before nor did we care about what came after. All that mattered…all that we were…was of the now.

We were a happy, industrious people, spreading in our numbers and structures across the empty vastness of the cold world. We struggled to grow and connect with those of like kind until all that we were and had built lay like an endless blanket upon the land. Together, we were strong. And so we waited and were content. Silence was our song and stillness was our dance. Peace was ours, it seemed, for an endless dark time.

But change must come to all things and my people were not exempt. The dark time passed and the land began to change beneath us. The land and all my people were bathed in new light and shone like stars. It was wondrous. This new time was frightening yet beautiful in its’ own way. We were amazed at the difference. Some of us, just a few at first, felt a change in the land. The first stirrings of a new feeling touched us. Not uncomfortable, this new feeling…but different, strange. My people remained still, awaiting the familiar coolness of an older time. But that hope faded as the new feeling spread across the land. And as the new feeling continued to increase my people began to fall, one by one. A few here and there then more and more until entire stretches of what was once covered by my people were laid bare.

My people…my cold, dark, beautiful world…was dying.

I wait now. And watch. I see the remains of all those I knew vanish into the empty space above what was once our land. Others flow into oblivion, their remains rushing like a river into an ending that I do not yet comprehend.

I wait. And watch. I see all that we were vanishing and yet I feel nothing. I am filled with the coldness that was the ultimate strength of my kind. Yet even now that strength wavers and fails me. The strange new feeling and light that has made my cold, dark world shine…and I see a place not meant for my people. A home that is ours no longer.

Look there. One of my people falls, lost to the inevitable change that grows stronger with each passing moment. Soon…all too soon, I know…I will join them all. Already I can feel myself lessening, fading…falling apart into nothing.

Remember us. Remember that we were beautiful in the cold and the dark. Beautiful in our complex simplicity, our symmetry…and now none shall never see or know again. We pass away…lost in the light…our land burns…

 

_

 

So far away that distance means nothing yet only an arm’s length away, someone waits patiently in the cold of a winter morning as the last vestige of frost vanishes from their windshield…

 

End

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Prologue: Book 2 – The Mountain of Glass

Pain.

It was the first thing he felt.

And low temperatures followed by the movement of atmospheric currents.  He felt those things too, after the pain passed.

“Ah.  Cold.  And windy.”  His voice was a barely-heard whisper, dry as old paper, a harsh quiet sound from a throat long-unused.  It didn’t carry far in the surrounding landscape, heard only by the speaker himself.  “And I have to walk.  How amusing.”

Definitely a change from the controlled environments he was accustomed to.  It was one of the primary reasons he rarely, if ever, left his vessel. Weather and walking.  Neither was particularly pleasant.  But he had to do it.  He had to walk in the cold and the wind.  He paused for a moment as a lost fragment of a fading dream passed through his mind.

For a brief instant, he was sad.  But the sadness, like the pain before it, passed quickly.  Emotions were something he was quite familiar with.  (At least, his own and his reactions to them).

Now here he was halfway around the span of this world to deliver a message to a species he’d really rather have nothing to do with whatsoever.  He knew that he could’ve told the others no.  He could have protested coming to this little world at all.  He could have made those choices.  Ah, but the others had no choice but to come here.  They had to have their accursed Totality.  And admittedly, this Earth did offer the best, most pure form of Totality he and his race had found.  In the entire multiverse.  Ever.  It really was that good.

He hated it for being that good.

At least, they’d told him how good it was when they communicated with him at all.  Not that he gave them very many opportunities.  He wasn’t awake very often as a matter of fact.  And the others didn’t really like to interact with him, which was fine.  He found their company much less worthwhile than his dreams, in any case.  Even the others couldn’t take those from him.  But still, they had taken so very much already.

So he felt pain.

And he walked.

And he was cold.

And occasionally he staggered when the wind blew strongly.

But always onward, he walked.  His pace was steady, his face calm.  They needed him now even if only for so small a thing as delivering a message.  It felt…good…to be needed, to have a task.  And he would complete this task, and quickly.  The earlier he could return to his dreams, so much the better.

As he walked, he allowed his mind to wander.  From some far corner of his experiences and knowledge a small bit of information came to his awareness.  “How appropriate,” he thought, “since I find myself traveling in such a time-lost manner.”

And as each step carried him closer and closer to his destination, the faint lost strains of something familiar to the old world took flight upon the winds of the new one.

“Ease on down, ease on down the ro-oad…”

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Guess what?

My wife was right.

Turns out I can love cats too.

Iggy, Max, Callie and Buffie.

Iggy has the mindset of a stoner.

Callie is addicted to treats.

Buffie is OCD. Seriously.

Max is a demon.

But I love them all.

(But Max is -completely- hers. And is a demon.)

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No Fancy Headings, no clever subject lines…

Today is September 11, 2015. It is the anniversary of one of the greatest modern tragedies to befall our country in my lifetime. I’ve tried very hard to push away the air of solemnity and vague sadness that I usually feel every year on this day. I’ve been at least partially successful although my lovely lady asked me why I sounded morose.

How can I answer? I feel sad because I’m recalling the day I was sitting in the customer’s lounge at a car dealership in my hometown. I was drinking a cup of fairly decent coffee and wondering how long it’d be before I could go back home. The TV was on in the lounge. Some show was on. Even now I can’t remember what it was.

And the the news broke in with a report that sounded so incredible, so unbelievable that I honestly thought it must’ve been some sort of hoax.

A plane had struck the one of the World Trade Center towers.

Like WHAM! Right into it! How fucked up was that?!?!

I remember the news reporter going on about how startling this event was and what might have been the cause of it.

There was that delay that seem to last for hours…but it was only minutes.

Then the second plane struck the other tower.

And not long after that…they fell.

I can’t describe what I felt as I watched that even now. I was numb. -I- was in shock. No movie, no TV show, no book had ever affected me like that moment when the towers fell.

Real horror, I think, doesn’t scare you. It doesn’t startle you or make you feel afraid or give you some sort of rush.

To me, it’s cold and vast and it swallows you up. It’s an empty feeling that instantaneously makes you a different person…sometimes forever.

I think…maybe that’s what real horror is. And I hope I never have to experience it again.

9/11. I wish I could forget it. But I know I never will.

Damn.

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Helloooo September!

Ah, September.

Always a pleasure to see you roll around every year. Not because I’m particularly fond of you but more because your appearance means Halloween is very close. And I do love me some Halloween. Don’t be sad, September. There are things about you that are pretty cool. Let me list a few of them:

Cooler weather. The leaves start to turn. Everything everywhere begins selling pumpkin-flavored something. And cooler weather.

Basically I’m ready for fall. September’s like the ‘gateway month’ to Fall.

I am ready for Fall.

The editing continues on my book.

Soon I will be starting book 2 in the trilogy.

Now a little something about the cats.

Last night, Callie loudly trained a “churr”. For hours.

And that is all.

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