Coma.

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children playing

(third blog bite of a short sci fi/fantasy story)

Alex woke with a jolt in his own personal penitentiary, aching to feel the response of his body. Hope glimmered. “Doc” said there’d be other times…

“Stupid, stupid idiot!” he admonished himself “Doc” was a fragment of dreams, a character created by his subconscious due to his administering the medication. It was all an illusion, a paradise conjured by the meeting of a desperate mind hallucinogenic drugs.

Would the real doctor return? He had no way of knowing. Fear seized him. Night came with its nightmares, but none as bad as his waking state.

Morning dawned, faces swam and retreated, the drip rattled as it was changed. Then there he was, Doc.

“Bet you thought I wasn’t coming!” he grinned as Alex felt the prick of the needle.

*

The hospital gown was gone; replaced by a shirt and loose, brown, cotton pants.

“Do you like your new look?” Doc chirped. “I thought you might want to blend in more.”

“Well it sure beats that gown! Simple and functional, suits me!”

“Yes, I think it does,” Doc said slowly, looking him over. “No multi-million fashion industry here!” he added, as if picturing with pleasure its demise, “or Anorexia.” A cloud of sadness passed his face, then he continued. “No gyms either, there’s plenty of “work out” to be got out in the fields. No uncomfortable business suits for anyone! The air is fresh and unpolluted, there’s plenty of good food for all, rest and exercise, the little ones thrive on it.” Alex remembered the healthy, laughing children at the pool.

“My kind of place!” he agreed. (If only it were real)…

“Let’s look at the school!” Doc grinned. Strolling over the hillside they sighted a crowd of children sitting under an oak, a vivacious young woman standing among them.”The location can change with each lesson.” Doc informed him. “Today it’s here.”

The children flocked to him. He gathered them in his arms as they laughed and squealed. They seemed to know him. The teacher was unconcerned at the interruption of her lesson, smiling flirtatiously at Alex. They began telling Doc some of the places they’d been and things they’d done. Alex listened enthralled. This school was no longer about books it seemed one joyous festival of learning, doing and experiencing!

“There are whole areas for them to come where they can learn constructively. ” Doc explained, “They come any time they want, it’s not required. Some parents also teach them at home, but they like to come, there’s no need of cajoling. Even reading and writing are not compulsory, though they all learn because there are so many beautiful books and stories. Some things must be learnt the hard way and reading is one of them, but it’s taught without pressure so some learn early others late. You’d enjoy teaching here.”

“Me a teacher?”

“Why not?”

“But what would I teach?”

“Oh, believe me you’d have plenty to teach! As you can see this school system is quite different!” He laughed and the sound was pure joy reflected in the laughter of the children. It all became one and blended together as darkness invaded.

Am I Time Obsessed?

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from September 2004

Song Bird Songs

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Me? I wouldn’t have thought so, but today my grandson and I took a longer ride to school going along the cycle path between the lakes rather than our usual back road route. It added a quarter mile and five minutes to our ride, but what a difference!
I took in the blue of the sky (I was free to look instead of anxiously watching traffic for two). On one side an immensity of green enclosed the wood land on the other the lake lay cool and calm as if drawing my heart out of dusty confinement.
My grandson’s usual grumbles that he was “too tired, hadn’t slept well, etc.” transformed into calls of “Gran look at that duck all curled in a ball” or “oooh what a cutie!” as a myriad of dogs sauntered by happily enjoying an early morning stroll. People smiled and said hello instead of frowning.

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I Remember.

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(from August 2014

Song Bird Songs

50s

I remember writing laboriously with pen nibs and ink, their pattern of blotches decorating my spidery drawl and blue blotting paper limiting the damage. I remember evenings in the sitting room gathered around the piano before TVs usurped the family hearth, my mother playing as we tried to sing along.
I remember watching as my father guided their waltzing steps round the dance floor amidst a ruffle of organza petticoats, his getting up before us all to light the coal fire, and carving beautiful furniture from wooden egg boxes.
I remember helping my mother pluck chickens and shell peas, her superb baking, and how she made our clothes on the little Singer sewing machine. Life was simpler then still in touch with its roots.
Now food comes ready made in packages, entertainment is available at the touch of a button, and central heating means I can snuggle in bed while…

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31 day challenge day 24

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reading

Your favourite childhood book?

This is difficult for me as my childhood is such a distant memory and I was an avid reader (usually reading 4-5 adult size books a week!) I even walked along the street reading, stopping only to cross roads. I was never without a book.

The only memory I have of a particular book from my younger childhood was “Winnie the Poo”, but that’s only because the librarian insisted a four year old couldn’t read a book like that, so asked me to prove it before she’d let me take it out. I did, but it was my pride in scoring over the librarian rather than actually liking the book that kept it in my memory (I said I had pride problems lol!) I should add also my sister taught me to read long before I ever went to school so she really should take credit for that!

I do remember when around ten being very fond of my dad’s Sir Walter Scott’s books. I’m not sure of the title of my favourite, but I think it was “Beltane the Smith” one of his lesser known ones but very romantic. I couldn’t abide the usual run of books my classmates used to read (“Famous Five” adventures were  particularly popular). I much preferred the classics and read pretty much all the age appropriate ones.

“Halftermitus” and the “B’ word.

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boredom

I’ve been busy nursing my grandson through a severe case of halftermitus barely able to reach my keyboard due to incessant echos of “I’m bored”, hungry, tired etc.

It’s amazing how the absence of school in the diet can change a normally eager to play/watch a movie/game on Ipod young boy into a lethargic, grumpy old man! In spite of daily “shaking vigorously” in fresh air, field trips, extra movie buying/renting, old fashioned board games (strangely a more popular venue) and art and lego projects the days just seem too long and sooner or later the “b” word reappears.

I even tried banning its use for a while explaining, “its really a state of mind rather than an actual lack and indulging in its frequent use tends to enlarge the problem”. It didn’t work, being from then on referred to “the world you said not to use”. This is the first year this has happened. could it be the early onset of the dreaded “teen years”? heaven forbid he’s only nine!

I sigh and remember my own kids who seldom seemed to use the “B” word in spite of being home schooled till mid teens, but that was another age and situation when kids tended to have 101 projects going on and, being a big family, someone always had ideas to pursue. Now there’s an unrealistic childhood expectation (gleaned from TV and computer games) of constant entertainment that’s tough to meet.