Lucid Rescue 3

“What do you want to know about flying?”

“Can I fly?”

“Of course you can. Anyone can, although flying is more difficult for humans.”

“Why?”

“Well, have you tried to fly, Daphne?”

“No. I’m too scared of falling.”

“See what I mean? Humans are afraid. They want to get away from something or some one so fear shackles them to the ground.”

“I want to get away.”

“Where do you want to get away to?”

“I don’t care, just away from where I am.”

“In that case, my dear, you’ll have to depend on your feet.”

“Why can’t I fly away?”

“If all you want to do is get away, you have to walk. It’s a rule. You could run, I suppose, but I think you would tire quickly.”

“But why can’t I fly? Wouldn't flying be quicker and easier?”

“Of course if you had somewhere specific to go. Otherwise, it’s the foot trail for you. People do call what you want to do running away. Tell me why you want to run away from home.”

“I can’t.”

“Daphne, I realize asking a woman’s age is considered rude, but I’m curious. How old are you?”

“I’m fifteen.”

“Fifteen? I thought you’re a young woman of twenty or twenty-one.”

“Mother says I matured early. Otherwise she doesn't speak to me much.”

“Did you argue with your mother?”

“No. No argument. No fight. Nothing. She just stopped having anything to do with me. My mother hates me.” Daphne began to weep. The dragon waited patiently for the tears to stop.

“Is your mother pretty like you?”

“I think she’s prettier. She showed me photographs of herself when she was my age. We’re practically twins. I used to love when we were matching outfits. Mother and I used to spend wonderful Saturdays together going out to lunch and shopping. Sometimes we took in a movie.” Daphne sighed heavily and blotted her eyes with her sleeve. “All that seems so long ago.”

“Why did your outings with your mother stop? Did you want to do those things with girlfriends instead?”

“No, not at all. None of this was my fault. Listen, I don’t want to talk about this anymore. You’re supposed to be telling me how wonderful flying is.

“What does your father say about the change in how you get along with your mother?”

“He says all teenage girls experience problems with their mothers. He says a natural rivalry occurs when the little girl starts looking more womanly, if you know what I mean.”

“He thinks your mother is jealous of you? You said the two of you look alike. I assume her figure is as womanly as you say as your own. Why would she be jealous of you?”

“I’m cold and want to go back inside. If you don’t want to tell me about flying,  fine. Don’t tell me, but I want to leave now.”

“Do you want me to take you home?”

“No. Thank you, but no.”

“How will you get into your room?”

“Like you said, I’ll walk.”

“Goodnight, Daphne.”

“Good-bye, Dragon.”

“Will we see each other tomorrow night?”

“Sorry. I’ll be busy. Tomorrow night is date night.”

“You have a boyfriend, Daphne?”

“No boyfriend, just my dad. He’s taking me out to dinner. He likes to call it our date night.”

“Nice that he takes you and your mother out to a restaurant.”

“Mother doesn’t come with us. Date night is for daddies and daughters only. It’s like a club. Other girls will be there with their dads.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you? Well, good-bye.”

Lucid Rescue 2

The dragon and the young woman sat together at the water’s edge.

“Tell me how life is in the tower and why you never go out with people your own age.”

“I’d rather you tell me, Dragon, how life is when you can fly.”

Dragon turned his head toward the lake and sighed. Water bubbled and a bit of steam rose.

Daphne was enthralled, not afraid as usual when in the presence of someone else.

Lucid Rescue

A young woman sat like Rapunzel at her window watching night devour day. Fog rising from the lake brought her the promise of twilight magic. Fantasy made her a princess held captive by an overprotective father. She believed in her heart he loved her, but his sternness and strict discipline made his affection seem like another of her dreams. Nothing ever happened in her life. Nothing was permitted to happen in her life. She longed to escape into the world below her window. The fog grew denser, erasing the pagoda on the bank of the lake. Something stirred inside her. Anticipation set her senses on alert. Her eyes scanned the hazy but familiar landscape below looking for the source of her excitement. Then it happened.

A pair of brilliant emerald eyes gazed back at her through the window. The reflection of the glass blinded her to the owner of the eyes. Her room towered several stories from the ground. The outside walls were impossible to scale. Who could be looking in at her? She had to find out. She raised the pane.  She felt a puff warm breath on her face. When he said hello in a resonant baritone voice her face warmed from the inside.

“Who are, how did you, what are you standing on?”

She leaned slightly out of the window to look and snapped back as though she were supported by a bungee cord. She had dreamed of a night such as this with a visitor such as she had, but she never really thought―

The face that greeted her was attached to a body that had his feet on the ground. The dragon of her dreams found her. He would rescue her from her tower of isolation and her life would never be the same, or so she hoped.

The dragon understood it wasn't possible for the young woman to invite him inside, so he gallantly invited her out.

“Would you like to walk around the lake with me, Daphne?”

“Would I ever!”

The mist rising from the lake by now was a fog so thick it actually assisted Daphne to climb out the window. She, of course, straddled the dragon and wrapped her arms around his neck as he flew her to water bank. Daphne’s heart practically jumped out of her chest with exhilaration. He had come for her, just as she always wished.

Sons of Abraham

My mission is to expose child sexual abuse by any means possible. I read about it and share that information through Twitter and Facebook. Child sexual abuse permeates nearly everything I write even when I write about synchronicity and the paranormal. Nothing stirs my blood more. Nothing surprises people more whenever they hear about an individual case in the news. Even so there is no activity to which people in general are so blind. I know. I watch. I see how passive people are in textbook situations. Their inattention to the attention strangers give their children makes me want to grab these people’s shoulders and shake them. “Put your phones away and pay attention to your children!” So I write. I write in the hopes that someone will read one of my stories and become more alert. Passivity is a difficult habit to break so I find I need to write and report and repost a lot in order to help people chip away at it.

Pope Francis recently stated that pedophilia is pervasive in families as well as in the Church. This is true. However, Church teachings and religious upbringing often provide the basis for family life, especially in conservative families. Some families still live by the standard that the man is the head of the family. His decisions are absolute and cannot be challenged. His wife and children belong to him, as does the house, the car and even the family pet. Everyone in the household must abide by the beliefs of the ‘man of the family.’

My research into abuse for my novel THE ALTERED BOYS CLUB revealed The Women’s Rights movement of the 1970’s as the catalyst for legislation against domestic violence. Spousal and child assault and battery were criminalized for the first time. So was sex with offspring. Society frowned upon incest, but didn’t deem it criminal until the 1970’s. Astounding.

The reports of child sexual abuse by priests now include abuse by ministers of other denominations as well as rabbis. Recent reports from England include charges against various celebrities and government officials. One element of child sexual abuse that hasn’t changed is the fact the perpetrator is someone the child has met, known, and trusted.

Children will override their own instincts to submit to a parent or to trust someone their parents trust. I write to break blind trust. I write to stir the blood of adults as mine has been stirred. I write with the hope someday I will be free to move on and write about something else.

We cannot continue to act as sons of Abraham blindly sacrificing the lives of children.

Exorcism Of A Story

     Dante laid on his back on his bed in the dark. One tucked hand supported his head. The fingers of the other drummed on his chest. He stared at the ceiling as though anticipating a film to begin.

     A voice said, "Write what you know, about an experience you have had or someone you once met."

     "I don't know anything; can't recall anyone interesting."

     "Then write what I tell you."

     Instantly the room was lit by the light of his computer screen. The cursor pulsed with the rhythm of a tapping foot of a parent or teacher waiting for a directive to be followed.

     "Shall we begin?"

     Dante rose from the bed and placed his hands on the keyboard like a concert pianist. Music began to play and words flowed. The clicking of the keys under his fingers charmed the story out of his being and onto the monitor. When the story was finished he struck the SAVE button. The story had been exorcised to haunt and torture him no more. The man had not realized he had been holding his breath until he sighed with relief.

     Dante returned to his bed in the dark and awaited the arrival of another verbose demon with yet another story to be told. The next one was sure to be stronger; any effort to resist would be met with more torture until the computer screen was filled with words. The writer also realized the cursor would never be sated. Here was his eternity.