Legal Property

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Friday, January 28, 2011

Fiction Friday, One More Time, Prologue

A good friend of mine, Lynn Squire, puts some fiction up on her blog each Friday, and I like that idea. So here I go--putting up the prologue to a book I'm working on. I call this "One More Time." If you would like to comment, critique, or whatever, have at it. My skin is rhino thick, and you will not hurt my feelings. Unless you want to, in which case I will attempt a few alligator tears.
Paulos Johnson and his mother Halena hovered on one side of three-year-old Tamara’s hospital bed while Sarah stood alone on the other side. Tamara’s fevered convulsions shook the bed. Chills racked her small body and rattled the bed between seizures, sweat soaking the sheets. The hospital staff had tried to make her more comfortable, all they could do now. The doctors, with all their tests and scans, couldn’t determine the source of the infection, nor had they affected a cure. The doctor warned they shouldn’t expect Tamara to live through another night.
Sarah’s mind kept rerunning events of the past week in the hospital. Tamara asked for her favorite toys, and one by one, she gave the toys to other children there.
That’s just like her—she always loved to give. And now my little angel child is dying, her skin so hot you’d think it could boil water. It just isn’t fair.
Sarah knew each moment of with Tamara might be the last, and then—Tamara blinked, looked at each of them with half-opened eyes, and smiled a weak greeting. She turned her gaze on something—Someone?—at the foot of her bed. Sarah turned her head in the direction of Tamara’s gaze and saw nothing. A look of pure delight widened the child’s eyes and she lifted one hand—so slightly—and then her eyes closed, her last breath soft on the sheet under her chin, the smile still on her lips.
“Nooooooo,” moaned Sarah. “Oh, please, Tammy, no.” Paul and his mother cried out in unison, turning to each other to weep in ragged sobs. Tears blinded Sarah as she bent down to gather Tamara’s limp form into her arms one last time.
This is the first installment about a woman and her husband who go from disbelief to belief, from mourning to joy, from separation to reunion.

Thoughts to ponder:
Most of us have experienced grief. How do you react to grief? Do you rely on God's comfort?
Most of us have friends who are grieving even now. How do you help? Do you give them your source of comfort?
Do you handle grief (yours or others) differently when you know God is there to help? If you are a Christian, compare how you handle it now to how you handled it before.


  1. This is a story I would want to read.

  2. Wonderful Anne! I'm so glad you did this.

  3. Anne,

    To answer your questions....

    I'm at the age at which older relatives are beginning to pass ahead. My mother-in-law and father both went ahead in 2007. My mother is still living, so I'm just beginning to journey the vale of tears that goes with parting.

    Consequently, I don't have 'before and after' experiences.

    What I do have is the deepening realization that all of life is transient and that when Christians 'die', they're really just graduating to the next stage of life.

    How do I handle it?

    I find consolation in my husband, remaining family and friends.

    I also write. It's amazing to look back at the things I wrote after each occasion and see how much God has grown me or taught me since then.

    Carrie L. Lewis

  4. In this case it should be "effected" a cure.

    Effect and affect are tricky words. In this instance I believe you mean they have not succeeded in curing her. From dictionary: effect• to succeed in making or doing something. Example: They effected their escape through a rear window.

    Tricky little words. :)

    The main problem I see with this--The little girl has an infection. I'm not sure if the parents would even be allowed in the room--much less if the mother would be allowed to pick up the body. I'm pretty sure the doctors would not allow her to give her toys away to other children.

    I'm not sure about the hospital procedure, but it's something I would research.

    The premise sounds interesting. Hope this helps.

  5. Sheila--thanks, especially for the "effected" comment.
    I did check with my doctor. Sometimes infections occur in the body that are difficult to impossible to trace. As I'll mention later in the book, they did isolate her for a time, but determined whatever it was wasn't communicable. However, It might not be a bad idea to change it to an inoperable tumor.

  6. Carrie--exactly. And I'm sure you are a huge comfort to your family, too.

  7. Ahhh...what a way to start a story...but I can see how it's also a beginning.

    I hope you can get your book published someday.

  8. Anne, you're welcome!

    I suppose I questioned it b/c I was sick when I was four and was put into isolation until they found out what I had. That was many, many years ago and I'm sure things have changed!

  9. I'd like to read more of this! Great (although heart-wrenching) opening.

  10. Yvonne--Yup, just the beginning.
    Sheila--I'm sure they would still isolate. With this one, later in the story will cover that the infection was determined to be non-communicable. But I'm still mulling over the thought of a tumor instead--that would still involve fever and convulsions.
    Catrina--Thanks. I was hoping it would reach the hearts. It did mine. I cried when I wrote it. ;)


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