So you can read my books

Friday, February 3, 2012


My entry into ABNA is


It is based on the tales my half-Lakota mother told me as a child,
while we were trapped in our basement apartment by an ice storm,

while I was desperately ill with pneumonia. So ill she felt I would die. And she did not want me to die in fear but in wonder and awe.

A major character in it wants to talk to you :

Some call me The Turquoise Woman.

Others call me Gaia.

I call you temporary ... a fleeting rash upon my surface. Irritating, viral, and in the end, self-destructive.

Your race is like a tick that will gorge itself until it bursts. Bemused, I watch you scurry along my skin, moaning you are bringing an end to me.

I would laugh if it were not so pathetic. You are merely bringing an end to yourselves. I count the moments. You make my scalp itch.

You think you know what life is. Sad. Do you know what life is?

A firefly's flicker in the night, the breath of a buffalo in winter, a cloud shadow that races across the green grass to lose itself in the blood-red of the sunset.

Do not try to understand me. I look, not only down upon you, but out across the vast glittering sea of eternal night.

The color of my thoughts are the Northern Lights and the reach of them is from horizon to horizon and unto the vastness of the stars.

The electro-magnetic field of my body gave birth to my consciousness long before there were human hands to chisel stone into mute, blind idols or to brush your world in blood on cave walls.

Your only true contribution to me was your language.

Before you crafted words into being, my consciousness was unfocused. I listened with wonder as you spoke to one another, slowly piecing the concept of language together in my thoughts. Through the prism of your languages, my awareness crystalized.

I became aware.

Now, I know a haunted melancholy.

Like a windmill's blades, my thoughts dip into my memories. In misty after-images, I see your fleeting lives walking prayer-soft across my green fields only to fade into the inflamed oblivion of the sunset.

My son, Elu, will survive. Hibbs, the bear with two shadows, I have spirited safely away into a sister dimension.

But Samuel, my sad-eyed, adopted son, will soon die I think. Not at the hands of his life-long enemy, DayStar. But by the two-edged sword of his love for his wife, Meilori.

And that trickster scamp, Victor Standish, he, too, will die. I will miss him, for he, also, will be "consumed" by his love for the unnatural creature called Alice.

You are wondering why I am talking to you?

You are close to my heart as well, for all of you craft with words. So I have come to say seven words to you :

"Goodbye. Die well.

I will miss you."

What could be The Turquoise Woman's song to Hibbs, the bear with 2 shadows ... or to some of us :


  1. I love this type of educational blog very much.Nice effort. Keep it on with this type of post......
    Research Writing

  2. You're entering it into the ABNA contest? Wow, I'm going to be cheering on so many of you. Need to read this one as well.

  3. Good luck with ABNA! I entered last year with The Necklace and made it through to the 2nd round. You'll have a blast every month, watching the judging results! I tell ya, it truly is a nail-bitter, that's for sure! :)

  4. Venus :
    I have fun with The Turquoise Woman. Whoops! That didn't come out right. Ah, Gaia, I didn't mean it that way. Honest! LOL.

    Alex :
    Yes, I entered ABNA. But I have no hopes for it. I entered it like I buy Lotto tickets. :-) A month to daydream.

    Jack :
    Congrats to making it to the 2nd round last year. I did as well. It was a nice dream for awhile! If I thought I had a chance, I might bite my nails. Thanks for caring to visit and talk awhile!

  5. Good luck with ABNA! That's so exciting. ;)

  6. Thanks, Carol :
    I really enjoyed your post today! ABNA is my Lotto ticket -- with probably even WORSE odds! LOL. Thanks, again for the well wishes, Roland

  7. Good luck with ABNA Roland. I enjoyed the music.