What Next After People, Part 2

Previously, we engaged in a little thought experiment (Brought on by sleeplessness via the dog laying on my arm. Thank you, Harley)

In my ‘what-if’ scenario, I lived in a world with a much-reduced population. One where there weren’t enough people left to keep the power and internet on, and priorities were food, water and shelter. Once all the food in my nearby city was gone, there was nothing to hold me there and I had left the concrete for the bears, rats and coyotes. In my thought experiment, I retreated to the woods north of the city and began to build a refuge there.

I imagine that while I walked, I would desperately try and remember the Survival Rule of threes.

• You can survive for 3 minutes without air
• You can survive for 3 hours in a harsh environment without shelter
• You can survive for 3 days without water
• You can survive for 3 weeks without food

(All of these assume you’re not in icy water)

So let’s assume I have a backpack containing a wool sweater I found somewhere, a 2 layer weatherproof jacket scrounged from the back of a truck (the dead man at the wheel wasn’t going to be needing it anymore) and enough food for a week. In the pocket of the coat, I found a lighter, a bottle of water, a bandana, a battery operated flashlight, a 6” folding knife, and the dead man’s keys. On that keychain is a small strike-a-light thing that create sparks when you scrape it. From a survival standpoint, this is a potentially life-saving discovery!

Ever vigilant for wild animals, I suspect it would take me a couple of days to reach my destination. I’m in fairly decent shape for a walk of that length, but I don’t consider myself fit. I’m conscious of where I put my feet, because a sprained ankle would seriously limit my safety. I stay warm at night in the sweater and weatherproof jacket, and I’ve been lucky enough to find safe places to sleep at night, albeit fitfully. Let’s assume I made it out of town without incident.

I come across a small village seemingly uninhabited. I stay in the bush waiting and watching for as long as I can. Yes, it might be nice to have someone to talk to, but I can’t assume only the good people survived. So I’m cautious. I finally decide to approach one of the houses that looks in good condition. I can see a few crab apple trees in the yard and what looks like an overgrown garden nearby the house. I see no signs that anyone has been there in some time, so after a whole lot of internal debate with myself, I finally decide to check the house out.

Close inspection shows all the windows and doors intact and not a single human print in the dirt driveway. I look in all the windows I can reach, half expecting to hear a shout of alarm or warning. There’s no one inside and I find the backdoor unlocked. With a whispered apology to whoever owns the house, I quietly slip inside and explore. There are two levels, a basement with a walk-in pantry, a cold-room and various appliances. Knowing how long the power has been off, there’s no point in looking inside the freezer. Its contents would have thawed and rotted long ago. But the cold room is situated in such a way that it is kept cool by the earth itself, and the heavy door that protects it. My flashlight shows built in shelving stocked with all sorts of cans and jars of food, and I breathe a sigh of relief. On the floor are crocks and bottles. The crocks are full of sand that holds potatoes, carrots and apples. The bottles are all labelled ALE. It looks as if the previous occupants knew a thing or two about preserving and home brewing. The walk-in pantry holds a variety of buckets. They’re all labelled according to their contents, and if the labels are all correct, the house is well stocked with rice, flour, dried beans, bottles of spices and dried fruit. Leaving the basement, I return my attention upstairs.

There is a kitchen, whose cupboards are well-stocked with dry goods in large glass jars. Dishes still rest nestled inside each other in another cupboard. Down a long hallway I find a bathroom and two bedrooms, all empty of people. There are no bodies of the dead, no signs of panic or violence. It looks like the people who lived here just vanished. Curious, I explore further. Back in the kitchen, I take a close look at the table and find my answer. A notice of mandatory evacuation.

****

Next time: What would I find out in the barn that might help me stay alive?

I’d love to hear your impressions of my little thought experiment. Let me know in the comment section!

The Ambassador

(This is an excerpt from a longer work in progress)

When I went downstairs with a load of laundry, the last thing I expected to find was a dragon with a book between it’s front feet. It was startling to say the least.

“Listen, do you think you could fix that door so it doesn’t squeal so much?” The dragon asked in a rumbling voice.

“Um, sure.” I replied eloquently as I stood and gawked.

“What are you staring for?” It asked me before gesturing to the piles of boxes marked ‘books’. “You have all this knowledge on my kind, I would think you’d be thrilled to see me.”

“I never expected to actually meet one of you, let alone have a conversation with you.” I stammered. “I’m…”

“I know who you are,” he interrupted me in a deep voice. “I’ve been down here long enough that I know all about you.”

“Why have I never seen you before today?” I asked.

“I didn’t want you to.” He replied. “Your clothes won’t get clean if you stand there holding them. But leave the door open, will you? It hurts my ears every time you open and close it. My name is Barroth.” He said as I stood there a moment longer. He was a classic example of a western dragon. He was the size of a large SUV, with back ridges, large head, dark red scales and a long tail. He was laying on the floor with a book clasped in the claws of his front feet.

I finally remembered my manners. “I’m honored to meet you, Barroth.” I gestured toward the washing machine. “Will that bother you?”

“No, it’s just the door, really.”

With some difficulty, I turned away from him and loaded the machine, added detergent and gently closed the lid.

“You must have questions.” He said from the other side of the room.

“Quite a few in fact, but I didn’t want to be rude.” I turned toward him and leaned on the washing machine.

“I suppose I can answer a few.”

“Obviously this is a bit of a shock to me, but I’m thrilled to find you. I thought the only living things down here were rodents.” A shudder raced through me.

“You don’t like them?”

“They terrify me.” I admitted.

“But you’re fine with talking to a large fire-breathing creature.” There was an undercurrent of humor in his statement.

“Yeah, ironic, I know. Can I ask, why my basement?”

“At first, when I was smaller, I needed shelter and the door had been left open. I got bored waiting for the storm to pass and started reading. Long after the storm moved on, I stayed. I read, ate the occasional rodent and got to know you. You intrigued me. I’ve decided you’ll do.”

“For?”

“An ambassador, of course.”

(As I said, this is an excerpt, and not complete yet. I'd love to know what you think of it. You can either leave a comment here or email me at dragonquillca@gmail.com)

Change And Growth

There are many reasons why I've been away from the blog so long, and I don't see any of them as excuses, per say. None of our lives are simple and uncomplicated, and sometimes, priorities rear their heads and something has to give.
In my case, that was the blog.
But for the past few weeks, I've felt a nagging feeling drawing me back...so here I am.

I don't make resolutions so much as set goals, and the beginning of this year was no exception. I'm determined to sell two short stories this year. This sounds simple, and I only wish it were. But it seems that what I write cannot be easily classified. At first, I thought it was lesbian fiction. But what I write is more than that. My favoured pieces of my own creation seem to lean toward the 'speculative fiction' genre, but upon careful study of the markets, what I write is not dark enough for the paying spec fic markets. Apparently dark and demented sells.

Something else that I've been working on is building my platform. The non-writers among you are likely scratching your heads in puzzlement. Essentially, platform is a way of getting an author's name out into the world and building a following in a (hopefully) authentic way. This takes time. Even more so when the novel isn't finished yet! So I've been learning, researching and trying to build my platform one brick at a time.

At the same time, I've been knitting. Some of you may remember that I enjoy knitting socks. I enjoy the peaceful repetition of the cuff and leg, and the challenge of turning the heel. The whole process allows me some sort of creative space to mentally work out plot lines and character flaws. So no matter what my writing is doing, I'm still being creative. And even if I don't write a word for days, my characters are never far from my thoughts.

I've also been dealing with a medical issue. It's not life-threatening, but it will be life-changing, if only for a little while. I'll talk more about it another time, but I will tell you that pain is far more crippling than I thought. Honestly, pain is a bitch. The good part of this medical stuff though, is that it's made me aware of my own limitations, which has in turn, prompted growth and change in our youngest. In a good way.

I guess the take away of this post is that everything in life can either hinder us, or help us. It's a lesson I've had to learn over the past few weeks, and while I used to say I hated change, I can honestly say that the Universe doesn't care what I like or not.
Change is inevitable, and all we can do is react to it in a way that we hopefully come out the other side as better people. 

A Bit of Spook For You!

Today, I'd like to do something different and share an excerpt of a new piece of fiction that I'm working on.
Be warned, it's horror. Mild right now, but it'll get freaky later.
It doesn't have a title yet, but I'm open to suggestions. Suggest something in the comments section. When it sees publication, if I use your suggestion, you'll get a shout-out in the acknowledgements! You could be famous...
Anyway, here's the excerpt, please let me know what you think!

****

They say I’m mad, the people here. But I’m not. Not really. They just don’t understand because they’ve never been face to face with the evil that I have.
You asked what I saw? It wasn’t just what I saw, but what I heard and smelled. Hell, the whole thing.

Have you heard of Christina Mine? No? I’m not surprised, it’s not much now. Back in its prime it was a small village of maybe 60 buildings; a store, some homes, a train station, outbuildings for the mine, a hotel and a mill that took in logs from the surrounding woods and prepped them for the train trip south. By the time I saw the area a hundred years later all that was left was the skeleton of the mill, the train station and a boarded up entrance to the mine. The closest collection of people was ten miles away. I thought it was going to be a peaceful summer, the real estate agent never said a word about anything hinky going on before I bought the place. I thought it was just a sad, neglected train station.

I replaced the windows and doors before I ever stayed overnight. A couple of times I thought I heard kids playing in the hall, but of course, when I went to look they had left. I replaced the locks after that. The day after I replaced the locks, I was out in the front yard having a smoke and happened to glance up at the second story. When I saw someone’s face looking back at me from the corner of the window, I ran inside, grabbed my gun and charged up the stairs, mad as hell. It was my place, you know? I didn’t want kids coming back in, ruining what I’d done to fix the old place up. It never occurred to me that the closest kids would have lived ten miles away.  Of course I found no one else besides myself. I double checked the locks and kept my gun close by. It never really bothered me then.

The next time something weird happened, I was up a ladder, painting the outside of the building. I had picked up a few gallons of simple white on a trip to town and only had to wait for the right day. Well, the day finally came. The bugs were scarce, there was a slight breeze and it was as bright a day as I’d ever seen. So I set my stuff up, leaned the ladder against the building and took my tray and roller up the ladder. I had been painting for a couple of hours when I heard someone laugh, kind of a chuckle, right beside me. Like anyone else would, I looked. Of course there was no one there, I was twenty-something feet off the ground! I shrugged to myself and kept painting. When I heard the chuckle again, it came from my other side. Yeah, I looked again. Nope, no one there either. This time though, I got goose bumps up and down my arms. I got off that ladder as fast as my feet could carry me.

TBC