Saturday, May 23, 2015

My Favorite Things




One of my favorite things to do when I'm not writing is embroidery. Another is quilting. I’ve found a way to combine the two. 


First, I made baby quilts for two of my nieces. White on white, I machine embroidered them with the darning stitch so I had control. They turned out really nice, but I really love to hand embroider. That’s when I discovered red-work. During a quilting shop-hop, one of the stores highlighted red-work. For those of you who don’t know what red-work is – it’s embroidery done in all red floss. Just the outline of the picture, not filled in like other embroidery patterns.

Anyway, I fell in love with it. Every year I make something for Christmas (often a Santa) for my six children and give it to them on Thanksgiving. I found a Santa pattern and did it all in red-work, framed it and gave it to them.



That's when I decided to make a queen-size quilt for our bed, using various flowers. I found a book with different flower transfers and proceeded to iron them onto fabric and embroider them. It took the better part of a year to finish the quilt and many times I wondered why I started it and was tempted to quit. I’m glad I persevered. The quilt turned out beautiful and I use it every spring/summer.

Once I finished that, I decided to make a baby quilt for each of my
grandchildren – for their first born. I started out looking in coloring books for designs. I traced the images onto 12x12 squares of muslin. After I finished embroidering the squares I cut sashing and sewed them together. For the backing I used various fabrics, not nursery print. None of the quilts have nursery fabric in them at all. I've used patterns from animals to Winnie the Pooh to Sunbonnet Sue. 


Eventually, I found transfer books and started using them for designs. I looked everywhere for baby designs. I finally finished my
14th and last quilt. That’s a lot of baby quilts. Most of them are done in red work, but I varied some with other colors, too. 

It took a couple of years to do all the squares. Four years ago, I made quilts for my niece’s twins using kitten and bunny patterns. They’re done in many colors. Since then she had another child, another boy, so I made one for him using baby animals.

Four years ago, I also gave my first grandchild’s quilt to my oldest granddaughter, whose baby boy was born in June – my first great grandchild. That same year, my fourteenth grandchild was born, another boy and I did puppies for him.


April 12th, I gave my second quilt at another granddaughter’s shower. She’s having a baby girl in May. It’s exciting to see the look on their faces when they open the quilt. I hope they cherish them and love them as much as I loved making them.




I've marked each quilt with the name of which grandchild they're supposed to go to in case I’m not around to give it to them. My daughters have been instructed to pass them out. I hope I'm around to give them all away.


This last quilt I made for another niece's baby. I'd say it's one of my favorites, but honestly I say that about all of them. It's impossible to choose one. They were all fun to work on. Now I have to find something else to keep me busy. I think I've found it, chip carving but that's a topic for another blog.





Check out my books at Amazon   Here's one of my favorites.

Forced to stay in a nursing home while undergoing therapy, seventy-two year old, Mike Powell refuses to get out of bed, won't cooperate with the nurses, and won’t take his medicine. At least not until he meets Elsa. The tiny, spunky little Elsa sparks new life into him. 

Seventy year old, Elsa -left in the home while her son takes a family vacation - joins forces with Mike, setting the home on its heels, and later discovers deception and fraud. Can they find happiness together? 

Who says life begins at 40? Life is wonderful at any age, as long you're willing to live it. Elsa Logan and Mike Powell prove it. And I want to be just like them when I grow up! One of Roseanne Dowell's best, and my personal favorite! 

Monday, May 18, 2015

Blog Swap with J.Q. Rose

Swapping blogs with Roseanne is always fun. I remember we did it one year on our birthdays because we have the same day in May.  After reading my post here, be sure to hop over to the J.Q. Rose blog at http://www.JQRose.com to learn about Roseanne’s excellent book, Show, Don’t Tell, where you can learn “to put pizzazz in your writing.”


Thanks so much for getting together again, Roseanne. I brought Texas cake with me. I know that’s a lot of cake, but we need a lot in case your big family shows up too!

Writers Helping Writers by J.Q. Rose

I invited romance and mystery authors to send me writing tips to share on my blog during October through February. I compiled tips from the fifteen participating authors with new material to make up the eBook, Romance and Mystery Authors on Writing. Yes, when I sent them the letter of invitation in August, they knew their tips would be included in a book that would reach out to help writers.

I enjoyed meeting new authors and working again with author friends (including our host) on the project. And oh my, what great tips and information are included in the eBook. 

The tips are organized into the main topics of Writing, Publishing, and Marketing. Within the topic, Writing, authors offer quick tips and advice on dialogue, creating characters, story structure, settings
and editing.
Being a curious person, I had to ask a few questions and dig deeper to learn more about the writers and their experiences in the industry, so I asked them to reveal the “light bulb moments” in their writing journey, questions they are asked most often, and the best advice on writing they have received.
By offering their expertise, the authors hope to smooth the sometimes rocky road for new writers toward a rewarding career in writing.
# # # #
Authors who graciously contributed to this project are:

Conda Douglas
C. Hope Clark
Gail Roughton
Heather Fraser Brainerd
Heather Haven
Helena Fairfax
J.Q. Rose
Joan Curtis
http://joancurtis.com/
Joselyn Vaughn
Kathy MacIntosh
Marsha West
Melissa Maygrove
Miss Mae
Roseanne Dowell
Sara-Jayne Townsend


All royalties will be donated to public libraries.

About J.Q.
BIO- After writing feature articles in magazines, newspapers, and online magazines for over fifteen years, J.Q. Rose entered the world of fiction. Her published mysteries are Sunshine Boulevard, and Coda to Murder released by Muse It Up Publishing. Blogging, photography, Pegs and Jokers board games, and travel are the things that keep her out of trouble. She spends winters in Florida and summers up north camping and hunting toads, frogs, and salamanders with her four grandsons and granddaughter.


Connect with J.Q. Rose online at
J.Q. Rose blog http://www.JQRose.com/
J. Q.  Rose Amazon Author Page http://tinyurl.com/aeuv4m4

J.Q. Rose is offering a free E-book to one lucky commentor. Be sure to leave your email so she can send you the book. Winner will be announced Thursday, May 21st.



Monday, April 13, 2015

Guest Post - Frank Talaber

 
Indomitable Love
 
In this excerpt from Raven's Lament, Brook has just met Chelen and her effect on him is well...
Behind the wheel of his rental truck, Brook threw his head back. His mind raced like white water cascading through rapids and rifts deep in canyon walls. “What the hell just happened back there?”
            He grabbed his journal and wrote feverishly. As a journalist he’d had to study the literary classics in university, had even read some romance stuff on his own. Those books all contained things that had eluded him, like the headlong rush of emotion and hearts binding that so many authors penned. He’d always believed in passion’s depths, of love between souls, the kind that didn’t need to link two as one … because they always were one. A natural intimacy that merely reacquaints one soul with another, drawing each together like flames. He just couldn’t understand how it could be, how anything like that could possibly exist in this age of computers and TV. Chivalry and romance died in the last century, he’d written once. Well, maybe it had. But maybe the notion of eternal soulmates really did exist.
             An hour later, twirling his pencil in his hand, he stared at the words he’d just written.
Levels of awareness come at unexpected times. Sometimes, in the unexpectedness, everything we value as precious washes away and the present takes on a whole new meaning, grounding you from the trappings of your mind, pulling you away from the everyday things. I’ve come here looking for answers and have found only more questions. Why here, on the edge of the world, so far removed from the heart of civilization as I know it? Nowhere near anything resembling my way of life. But that’s part of it, isn’t it? To pull yourself from daily routine and place yourself on the edge of the unknown to contemplate … that’s where the learning comes from. It happened last time I came here and it’s happening again, in totally unforeseen ways. So much about these islands I’d forgotten: the lushness, the greenness of the moss, the ruddiness of the soil from the centuries of fallen cedars. I’m excited, yet scared. So remote. Maybe it’s the certain familiarities that haunts souls here, spirit winds. Allowing hinges cast in civility’s rusted sterility to be flung closed to portals of sensibility.
Brook put down his pencil and closed his journal. Shakespearean passions, that’s what she’d awoken. Damning emotions that drove men mad and women to swoon.
            Jesus, if she did that to him in a smile, ten minutes and a handshake, what would a week produce?
 
Brook is to spend a week alone with her on a kayak trip to see the totems of Ninstints. I wanted to show sometimes meeting "THE ONE," can be unexpected, intimidating and shake you to your core. Worse when you're still suffering heartbreak from the last relationship. And worse even than that, Brook and Chelen are investigating the downing of the Golden Spruce tree and Brook has pocketed a strange Lapis Lazuli rock. It just happens to be Raven's immortality stone. Without it, Raven is aging rapidly. Always the trickster, he will stop at nothing, even indomitable love, to get it back.

Thursday, March 26, 2015

Special Guest Blog

My name is Cindy Johnson, and I'm a freak…at least I feel like one.  Although Momma says I’m beautiful, other people look at me like I'm uglier than sin.  You see, I was born with one leg shorter than the other and I have a very bad limp.   I go to high school, but if I had a choice, I'd just stay home and read romance books all day.  At least, through the writings of others, I can escape to a
world where people don't stare and say unkind things.

Funny thing is, I have a crush on the HS Quarterback despite knowing I stand no chance with him.  His name is Cory Neil and he’s polite, but I know it’s only because he feels sorry for me. Knowing Math is my strong subject, he called and asked me to tutor him. I was so blinded by his attention, I agreed because he was so sure he’d lose his place on the team if he failed the class.  Anyhow, I arranged to meet him in the library because our house…well, let’s just say, it isn't a mansion and I decided I’d be much more comfortable without him seeing how I live.  Oh, don't get me wrong, my dad does his very best, but we've not had the best of luck which is how we ended up with me at a new school and people less forgiving than those I grew up with.  Wouldn't it be a wonderful world if people thought before they spoke?

Anyhow, Cory asked me to Homecoming and that made me angry.  Why would he ask someone who obviously can't dance unless he was dared by his friends?  I’m not stupid and I immediately knew I was the butt of someone’s joke.  I absolutely refused to go and he pretends he doesn't understand.  Yeah, right!

  I don’t think I've ever wished for anything as much as to be normal and go to the dance with Cory, but no matter how much I want things to be different, I’m who I am.  Yes, maybe I let my “Shortcomings” define me, but I just can’t afford to open myself up to more ridicule and hurt.  He doesn't seem to want to accept my answer, but I've already made up my mind.  He can take the pep squad captain.  She seems to like to remind me daily that I’m nothing but a gimp.

If you want to know who Cory takes to the dance and how this story ends, you’d better pick up your own copy of Shortcomings and read the entire book.  Although this is listed as a young adult offering, the story has a message that each and everyone can heed, and maybe make this world a lot less intolerant.
 Available from Amazon



Note from Ginger:  I wrote this book with the hopes that people would learn that staring and saying unkind things aimed at those who are different often makes them feel less than they really are.  Their “Shortcomings” are not of their own choosing.  My grandson is “different” in that he was diagnosed with autism, but he is the kindest, most loving child in the world and my greatest gift in life.   The thought of him hurting because of someone’s ignorance makes me see RED!


Sunday, March 1, 2015


Show Don’t Tell

Did you ever wonder what made you remember the characters in a book? Or what made a story especially memorable. In Part One, you’ll learn to see, hear, smell, feel and taste your story. By combining many elements of writing, my book will help you learn how to write publishable stories. I’ve worked out lessons that will teach you to use the senses, avoid boring dialogue, and write memorable descriptions.  Learn how to put pizzazz in your writing.
Learn how to avoid unnecessary words, using action, senses and self-editing. Show Don’t Tell covers it all.

In Part Two, you’ll learn how to self edit. Editing is, by far, the most difficult part of writing. Okay, one of the most difficult. Editing is where we have to cut precious words, sentences, or maybe even whole paragraphs.  How do we even go about editing? Most of us know to look for punctuation, that’s the easy part. After all we’ve all learned about commas, periods, question marks and exclamation marks in school, didn’t we?
You’ll learn how to create and describe characters, places, and things, keeping your POV consistent, proper dialogues, common mistakes, and how to prepare a manuscript.
How many times has something funny or unusual happened and your friends said you should write a story about it. Should you? What if your friend got stuck on the roof? Would his experience make a good story? How about kooky events, scary dreams? Ever hear a portion of conversation and wonder what it was all about? There are many places and ways to come up with ideas for good stories. Follow these lessons and you’ll enter a land of make believe so real, you’ll think it happened to you. From Uncle Joe getting stuck on the roof, to newspaper articles and even the classified ads, In Part Three – Turning Your Ideas into Fiction, you’ll learn the perfect way. . If you’re wondering where authors get their ideas, you’ll find out in this book. Have you ever wondered how much fact to put into fiction?

Show, Don’t Tell is available from Amazon

Tuesday, February 3, 2015

She's Baaack

Aunt Beatrice Lulu in all her glory and creating more havoc than ever. When a body falls out of a chimney in their newly purchased cabin, she takes it upon herself to investigate. Just because her niece is Chief of Police doesn't mean she should mind her own business. Even her husband can't control his busybody wife.It doesn't end there, too many things happening for Beatrice Lulu to overlook.. She's bound and determined to figure things out on her own. Not to mention the trouble she gets into. Ed insists she's a magnet for trouble As he puts it, "I swear trouble follows that woman." And follow her it does.  Here's an excerpt from my work in progress, All's Well that Ends Well.

 I've always been fond of telling everyone Beatrice Lulu is the name I was born with, the name I'll depart this life with, and the name I expect to be addressed as. Well everyone except my husband Edgar Leroy Eberhart. Not that I call him that. No one does. We call him Ed and he calls me Bea-among other affectionate names.

Never thought I’d find a husband. Wasn't even looking. Being single and an old maid – that’s what people call women my age who aren't married – didn’t bother me a bit. Didn’t need a man in my life. Course, now that I've met Ed, well that’s a different story. Don’t know what I'd do without him. The love of my life for sure.

Never will forget the day we met. Was at some kind of family gathering. Our family has a lot of them. What Ed was doing there or who invited him I've no idea. But there he was, standing and looking like he wanted to devour me. He called me pretty. Never had a man call me pretty before. Hell, no one ever called me pretty. I wasn't fool enough to think I was cute, let alone pretty. Oh no, the mirror don’t lie. My nose is too big, my eyes too beady and good Lord above, my shape… well, let’s just say I have a wide girth. Never was slender, not even as a kid.

So, I was quite taken aback when he asked my name. Needless to say, I was a bit tongue-tied, too. For me that’s saying a lot. Never been tongue tied a day in my life. Always spoke my mind. Got me into trouble a time or two, but that was me. Take it or leave it.
But, Ed, and the way he stood there looking at me and calling me pretty, well hells, bells, I couldn't think of a thing to say. Ain’t never had a man look at me that way before. Rattled me good, it did.
When he called me sweetheart, that did me in. Never liked people going around calling me honey or sweetheart. Course Ed, well, he didn’t pay my rudeness no mind. Oh no, he got right in my face and demanded to know my name. So I told him.
And he laughed. Told me how silly I was expecting people to call me by my full name. Then he did something that took my breath away. He kissed me, right on the lips in front of everyone. Been kissed a few times in my life. Hell, you don’t live to be fifty-three and never get a kiss, no matter how bad you look. Used to date a bit back in the day. But ain’t no one ever kissed me like that before. Lordy, I not only lost my breath. I almost crumpled to my knees. That man can kiss. The rest, as they say is history. We’ve been inseparable ever since.
Well, almost inseparable. I do have an existence away from Ed, a few friends, and my three sisters of course. They’re my best friends. So, yes, I do partake of life without Ed, and I wasn’t about to give it up for anyone. Not even Ed. My sisters, Lottie, Ethel, and Lillian are a big part of my life. We’ve always done things together. And of course, there’s my brother Clyde, but he’s never been part of our mischief. Not that he hasn’t reciprocated a few times, but usually it’s my sisters and me who play the tricks. Clyde’s been the beneficiary several times of our entertaining activities.
Our latest thing is helping Callie, my niece and the new police chief of our little town. People think just because we live in a small town everyone knows everyone. Seriously? How can you possibly know two thousand people? Granted, we know a good many, but those are the ones who live in the town proper, run a business, or attend our church. But that’s neither here nor there.
Callie’s a pretty little thing. Can’t imagine how or why she became a policewoman and then the chief of our town. You’d think she’d want to get married and have kids. She’s Lillian’s daughter, and Lillian’s not always part of our expeditions. Like when our mother got kidnapped. Ethel, Lottie, and I knew if we told Lillian, she’d put a stop to our plan. Good thing we didn’t too, because if it wasn’t for us, they probably wouldn’t have found our mother. Or if they did, Lord knows what condition she’d of been in. I shudder to think. So, for the most part, it’s just the three of us – Lottie, Ethel, and me.
Lillian’s probably the most somber and sagacious of us. Not that we’re not all sensible, we’re all pretty intelligent, but Lillian’s always been the one to put a kibosh on our plans. She’s always been apprehensive about getting into trouble and such. Big spoilsport, that’s what she is.
So mostly, we just leave her out. Besides, she has other fish to fry. She still works and doesn’t have time for “our nonsense” as she puts it. She must take after our father, because our mother is just like us. Mama’s the biggest practical joker around. Loves to play tricks on people. Our father was a bit more solemn. I guess opposites do attract. Mr. Sensible, that was Dad. Not that he didn’t get a kick out of Mama’s shenanigans. I think that’s what attracted him in the first place. Mama’s a judge, by the way, so she does have a serious side. Maybe that’s why she loves to play jokes and tricks, she sees too much of the gloomy stuff in life. But I have a feeling she was like that even before she became a judge. Got it from her mother if memory of Gram serves me. Always laughing and singing. Wonderful sense of humor.
But I digress. As I started to say Callie’s the new Chief of Police for our little town of Symtheville. She went off and lived in the big city for a time like so many youngsters do now days. And like so many of them found out the grass isn’t always greener. So now she’s back. Finally married, too, thank goodness. Was no easy feat getting her together with someone. My goodness, I introduced her to so many eligible bachelors to no avail. Again, I digress.
So Callie came back and took over Chief Landry’s job, although he works a couple days a week and if she has a big case, he helps her out. Not that there’s many big cases in this small town, but it has its share. My mother helped break up a drug ring, and Callie solved a missing persons, kidnapping, and a murder. We don’t have many murders around here. Mostly it’s drunk and disorderly or people creating a disturbances.
I remember this one time, Ed and I bought a cabin. Sure was a mess. Needed a ton of work. But Ed assured me he could do it, and I seldom doubt Ed. Wasn’t like it was far from here, only a half hour drive. But it was set on a pretty lake and Ed loves to fish. Besides, we thought it’d be nice to have a place to escape my crazy family. Not that we escape often because we usually ended up inviting the family along. Anyways, Ed and I went up there right after we got the keys. I needed to start cleaning, and Ed took stock of what work needed done and what supplies he needed to order.
So there we were looking around and it was kind of chilly.
“What do you think, Bea, feel like a fire?”
“Only if we’re going to be here for a while and from the looks of this place, it’s going to be quite a while. Do you think that fireplace is safe?” I didn’t want to take any chances of burning the place down now that we bought it.
So Ed opened the flu and stuck a wire brush inside to make sure nothing was jammed.
“What the hell?” Ed jumped back. I turned around in time to see something fall.
“What’s that?”Whatever it was shook Ed up. He pushed me across the room.
“You don’t want to see that. Come on, let’s go in the kitchen.”
Well dog gone it, no one tells me what to do, not even Ed. Leastways not all the time. I pushed him aside, went to the fireplace. “What the hell is that?” I bent down for a closer look.
An arm, in tattered red flannel soiled with soot, lay on the grate. I reached out to pick it up, and a finger fell off. I jumped back. “What the hell is an arm doing in our fireplace?”
 I wondered if it was real. Sure looked it. I reached over to pick it up again to make sure. Another arm fell, brushing my elbow. I fell back, screamed and brushed ashes off my shirt.  Far be it for me to be afraid of anything, but that spooked me. Gave me the willy-nillys for sure. I couldn’t help it, the scream just escaped. I turned away, covered my mouth and gagged. I could hardly catch my breath.  Ed helped me up and led me to a chair in the kitchen.
“Get it out of here, Ed. Take it away.” Barely able to look, I pointed toward the other room. God, I’d never get that vision out of my mind.
“Well, now I’d like to do that, Bea, but I’m afraid I have to call Callie.” Ed handed me a glass of water.
“Callie? What you need to call her for? Just get rid of it. Get it out of my house.”
“It pains me to say this, but it might be a murder victim.”
“A murder victim.  Bushwa. Who stashes a body in a chimney? Murder victim, that’s the craziest damn thing I’ve ever heard. I don’t want that thing in my house.”
“Be that as it may, Bea, those arms belonged to someone.”
Before I could reply, a clattering noise came from the living room. I jumped. “What the hell was that?”
Half afraid to look, but having a curious nature – some called it nosy –I hurried to see what the racket was about. Body parts slid out of the fire place, landing on the hearth. A strange sound came from my mouth. I must have passed out because next thing I knew, I was on the floor, and Ed was leaning over me.
“That a girl, Bea, open those pretty eyes.”
I sat up and of course the first thing I saw was a skull, its eyes rolled back in the sockets. “Call Callie, Ed, and tell her to get over here right quick.”
Ed pulled his cell phone from his pocket and punched in Callie’s number.
I couldn't stay in the house, not with that thing in there. Oh, I know it used to be a human being, but now it was nothing but a pile of bones. And that skull. That was the worst part. I've seen skulls before, but they were Halloween skulls, not the remains of God knew who. Oh no, I wasn't staying there, and no way Ed was gonna make me. Not that he tried. Ed knows me well enough to know when I make up my mind about something, there’s no changing it. So I went outside. Figured I may as well explore the ground until Callie arrived and got rid of that thing.
Fortunately, I didn't have long to wait. Callie pulled up, got out of her car, and kissed me hello. She didn't much like me, but always minded her manners. Oh yeah, I knew. She couldn’t fool me. That was okay, we’d come to terms since she married that nice young man. Now if she’d just start a family. Since I was too old to have my own children, I sort of adopted my sisters’ kids and their grandchildren. Callie didn't know it, but she was my favorite. God only knew why. That girl rebelled against everything. Poor Lillian had her hands full with that child. From the minute Callie could walk and talk, she was insolent, seditious, and stubborn as all get out. Lillian managed to instill some manners in her, and Callie knew better than to disrespect me. Not that she disrespected any of her aunts, but she didn’t obey them either. Now I, on the other hand, never had a problem with her. Maybe I scared her. But lately, she’d become persnickety. Probably had something to do with her job. I didn’t much care for the attitude.
But, I digress again. Callie went in the house and I, being the inquisitive person I am, followed. I wanted to hear what she had to say. I stayed back, not wanting to get in the way, but mostly because I didn’t want to look at that thing again. 

Friday, January 9, 2015

Judgment Day by Roseanne Dowell

I wrote this many years ago when I became serious about writing. It's not my usual genre. In fact far from it. But, like most authors, when something wants to be written, I write it. 

The crowds hustled by, everyone in a big hurry to get home after a long day of work. I almost laughed at the rude people bumping into each other, as if they had the right of way. No one cared about the person next to them. They all had their own agenda and thought only of themselves.  Horns honked and cars weaved in and out of traffic, trying to get ahead of the others, only to stop at the traffic light, not making much progress. Storm clouds threatened to open any minute. The wind picked up and lightening streaked across the sky, casting an eerie glow on those rushing about. I stepped out of the doorway and hurried down the street, sidestepping those willing to stampede over me.
"The time has come!"  A voice bellowed through the crackling sounds of thunder. I recognized the voice, had heard it many times.
Suddenly the sun shone brightly and just as quickly transformed from yellow to red, the color of blood. The sky darkened once again. Thunder rumbled. Lightning flashed. People scattered, running for safety from the storm. The sky turned pitch black and opened up, spewing forth pellets of hail, ashes, and bits of bone.
A great upheaval shook the earth. The ground cracked, separated, and erupted, opening graves in the nearby cemetery. Bodies, dead for centuries, spilled from their tombs and rushed forth into the crowds.
 Someone reached a hand out and snatched the heart from a young man’s chest. Another plucked out the eyes of an old woman. Body parts floated everywhere. Hearts, lungs, kidneys, and livers flew about as if they had wings.
A young man reached for a heart, but it didn't fit into his empty chest cavity. Tossing it aside, he reached for another, and yet another, throwing them aside, in a desperate search for his own.
Clumps of ash swirled around me with bits of bone and materialized into a body. It ran off down the street, screeching. People scrambled to get out of the way of deteriorating bodies that poked and prodded, removing body parts from others and reclaiming their own missing parts, which they had donated to others after their death. Everyone rushed about in panic and frenzy.
A form appeared in front of me. A young lady, wafts of long blond hair clung to her skull and bits of a pink dress still hung from her shoulders. An evil grin appeared in her bony skull when she turned to face a man. He stood immobile, fear pasted on his face. He dropped to his knees in recognition. "Please," he begged, "Please, no."
She approached him, arms out stretched. He tried to crawl away, but she was too quick. Showing no mercy, she grabbed him around the neck and squeezed the life out of him. Guttural sounds came from her mouth when she raised him effortlessly above her head, bowed to me, as if to offer him up, and carried him to a bridge. Spinning around two, maybe three times, she flung him over, then turned away and hurried off.
I ran to see where he landed and looked down into a fiery inferno. Tongues of flames licked its hungry mouth, swallowing the man into the bowels of the earth. He had killed the young girl, and she sent him on to his just due.
I returned to the doorway and watched as featureless creatures rose out of their earthly internment and pursued their killers. Like the blond girl, they murdered in the fashion they had died.  One kicked his predator to death. Another stabbed repeatedly in a murderous rage. Yet another carried his victim to the top of a building and flung him down like a rag doll. Their victim’s pleas for mercy, ignored.
One - a headless creature converged on an elderly man. It threw him to the ground and, with an axe that appeared from nowhere, chopped off the old man’s head. It rolled away and stopped in front of me.
A new head grew from the headless creature's neck to complete the body of a young boy. All these creatures lifted their victims’ bodies over their heads and carried them to the bridge. They repeated the ritual, like the girl had, each bowing to me, and then spinning around several times, they threw the victims into the fiery pit below. The massacre and brutal assault of thousands continued.  The stench of burning bodies saturated the air.
 More and more forms appeared from the clumps of ashes and bones, reclaiming the shape of their earthly beings. People raced wildly about, screaming as bony hands ripped their innards from their bodies. The skeletal creatures removed kidneys, livers, and hearts, and repossessed them.
Across the way, a serene scene with masses of people manifested itself. I went toward them. They floated on a bed of clouds, surrounded by a brilliant light that illuminated the blackened sky. They were the good ones, the believers. The young blond girl, her body no longer a skeleton, took her place among them, a pure and innocent look on her face.
Other creatures followed, after they had achieved their revenge allotted to them by their God. They took on angelic forms. The musical sound of a flute and a harp filled the air. Many of the mortals that had, moments ago, been rushing about looking to replace missing parts were now renewed.  Their bodies united with their souls.
 Perfect images rose above me with virtuous, peaceful faces. Laughter and love abounded among them. They began humming with expressions of pure joy as they rose higher and higher to their final reward above. A floral scent of roses mixed with other unidentifiable sweet aromas.
I turned back and watched while bedlam still raged on the other side. Thunder continued to rumble, mixed with terrifying screams of the bewildered lost souls. Cadavers chased humans, pushing and stampeding over them as they searched for their body parts. The evil forces reached out, trying to grip the victims of time past. The innocents rushed past me, eager to join with the host of angels.
It was time.
 I went back to them and beckoned to my lost sheep. Flames emitted from my hands and smoke swirled around my mouth as I reached out to claim the evil ones I called my own. I denounced them as they fell to their knees, begging for mercy from a God that they had long ago forsaken.
A flood of water gushed over the earth, sweeping their bodies into a wild rush of current. Arms and legs tangled, thwarting the onslaught of water, as they swam for their very lives. Just as quickly, the blackness and water disappeared, replaced by a sudden flash of orange. It burst forth into the eternal flames of hell.
We were home.