Random Thought

As I worked on my latest novel, random thoughts came and went; none relevant to my writing. But suddenly typing fingers stopped as one of those free-flying thoughts took me to a different time and place in my life.

 

It was a sunny day on the cotton farm where I grew up on the South Plains of Texas, circa 1965. The sky darkened quickly in the northwest. Nothing out of the ordinary, just another early spring thunderstorm heading our way.

 

As my fingers rested idly on the keyboard, the snapshot-in-time turned into a memory that blossomed into an odd, but factual, story.

I picked up my pace to roll a thirty gallon barrel of naptha into the barn as Dad had ask me to. By the time I finished the chore, the sky darkened with an approaching sandstorm in advance of a frontal system creating a squall line of indigo blue clouds adorned with lightning coming into view behind the roiling brown cloud. Again, no surprise. Just a seasonal thing.

But when the sky turned dirt brown in the yard, a phenomenon raised the hair on my arms at the same rate visibility disappeared. It was deathly calm, no wind whatsoever. It was as if God was slowly pouring dark brown flour over the earth. It was pure dust that hung in the air and seemed to be without movement. The brown fog made it impossible to see the house, only about fifty feet away.  I walked slowly in the direction of the house. Visibility was so poor, I almost walked into it before I saw it. I turned and looked back toward the barn and marveled at the sensation brought on by this aberration of nature. I realized I was covered in dust. I slapped my shirt-front and a small brown cloud drifted off of me.

I noticed the brown fog was becoming disturbed. A breeze began moving it southeastward. The entire experience lasted about five minutes without change. A sudden harder gust caused visibility to return and much grittier sand began to blow, stinging my face. The thunderstorm was about to move across the farm. I stepped up onto the porch and watched it cleanse the air, accompanied by a few hailstones. I heard the screen door behind me squawk as Mom stepped outside. "Boy, that was really something," I said.

She eyed me up and down. "Yeah. It was."

I began to walk past her into the house.

"Oh no you don't. You're not going into the house like that."

"Like what?"

That's when I got a beat-down with a broom.

 

 Beware the Bones - Kindle edition by Wright, Daniel Lance. Paranormal Romance Kindle eBooks @ Amazon.com.

The Last Radiant Heart-large print

 Read "The Last Radiant Heart" now. "The Radiant Heart Awakens (working title) is coming soon.

 Now available at your favorite bookseller.  You love to read. I love to write. It,s all about the story. ALWAYS

Defining Family - Young Adult Novel

"Defining Family", a young adult novel for the times in which we live.

"I could not stop reading this from the first page. How can anyone write about something with all of the kids in this story that is so accurate... ...A real definition about what the family is about outside of the box." -Gabrielle Hatton, Florida

I invite you to enjoy the download or a print copy today. And, I would appreciate a "share" of this.

http://whiskeycreekpress.com/book/464/defining-family/

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/defining-famil…/1112595328…

https://www.amazon.com/Defining-Family-Danie…/…/ref=sr_1_13…

My Wife's New Year Shock

Once a year I let my wife share thoughts on my blog. Here's her New Year thing for 2017:

Started my New Year with a quick workout at the gym. The gym just happens to be located behind the emergency room at the hospital with a good view through the front window. I hit the point I wished my exercise routine was over but, alas, I had to keep going for a while longer. Suddenly, I looked up from my exercise bike and saw a hearse drive in and park near the back of the emergency room entrance. My eagerness to end my workout and go home, just as suddenly, went away and I began peddling a little faster. Happy New Year!,

When Does Old Officially Begin?

It seems as though that all too frequently I’m getting abrupt reminders of the aging process. I speak of my own, of course. Sometimes these reminders are subtle but other times they come at me like a brutal slap in the face. Something happened yesterday that, to most folks, would not seem like a big thing at all. But, to me, it was that brutal slap I just mentioned.

It was a comfortably warm day—sun shining, winds calm. I got in the car to run a simple errand. My destination took me out on a scenic and winding farm-to-market highway for a few miles and the drive was pleasant—so pleasant that I began to daydream, both hands draped over the top of the steering wheel. I was suddenly yanked back to the moment by a feeling of closeness. I looked in the rear-view mirror and noticed a car tailgating me dangerously close. Following that vehicle were a number of others, looking much like a slithering snake. I was the head. A quick check of the speedometer told me everything I need to know as to the reason. The speed limit was sixty-five. I was going forty. It was a simple fix. I sped up to the speed limit and the cars began to loosen behind me. That should have been the end of it. Right?

Well, it wasn’t.

The episode brought to mind a time many years ago that I was riding along with my aging father on our way to town from the farm we lived on. He, too, had his arms draped over the steering wheel, seemingly oblivious. He smoked a pipe and had it clenched between his teeth, puffing methodically, having no concerns whatsoever . . . apparently. We were in a highway construction zone where no passing was allowed. The old rattle-trap of a pickup we were in rolled along at about thirty miles per hour. I turned to see a long string of cars behind us. Well, I figured that he just hadn’t noticed how slow he was driving. So, I offered a gentle reminder, “Dad, you might want to speed up a little. It seems we’re holding up traffic.”

In a way that only another farmer would understand, Dad stopped puffing on that pipe and turned his head slowly to face me. I couldn’t determine if he wanted to slap me or offer fatherly advice. In that moment, I could see it going either way.

He turned back to again look down the highway and resumed puffing on his pipe. I said nothing more. After a few seconds, “If they wanted to get there sooner, they should have left earlier,” he said in an uncanny calm manner. He didn’t vary his speed at all.

I remember becoming quietly angry at his total lack of highway etiquette and stewed over it the rest of that day.

Now, in my case, I did accelerate once I noticed how slowly I was going but I thought, as I finished my short drive, that all those people following me should have left earlier if they wanted to get there sooner. That thought gave me an age-reminding shiver.

Afterthought:

If you enjoy novels, especially in the romantic thriller genre, please take a look at “Call Me Mikki”. It’s newly released and available now at Amazon.com, barnesandnoble.com, sagewordspublishing.com and other fine booksellers.