As David moved closer to the women and their small fire, he was suddenly, almost sickeningly reminded of his mother. Odd, he thought, but he didn’t allow himself to reminisce. His constant attention to the present moment was the only thing that mattered.

The women were chanting something, but he couldn’t make it out.

In unison they looked up at him.

You’re tired, and hungry. Say a few words, and we will give you some food before you head on. Even young travelers must rest, one of the women said.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know how…or what to say. I don’t know if I believe. I don’t understand…”

Shhh child. There is no set way. Some pray to God. Or to many gods. Some talk to the woods, or the moon, or even their own spirit. Our world is too full of evil to remain silent. One must speak. To anything, anyone with power to make a change.

“I don’t know if anyone is out there who could somehow stop it, but our world is in trouble. The outcasts are moving again. They kill. They do much worse. They spread. They killed my mother. My friends. I know I’m just a kid, but I escaped. My mom said there are reasons for everything. So there must be a reason for me.

I don’t know how to stop it. How to fight them, but I will find a way. Let my heart have courage for the battles. Let my mind be sharp. Let my words become honey, sweet to even the most hardened ears and minds…”

Although David didn’t notice, the women had been watching the oil in their pot since he had begun speaking. As they watched, beads of oil had risen in a line and moved toward the center of the pot. When he said those words “let my words become honey” the oil had changed into honey. Strangely shaped honey crystals were forming along the sides of the pan.

“I must become more than I am now. Please, unlock my potential. Please show me who I’m meant to become. Please help these strangers who’ve helped me. if something can, it should.

This is Baker speaking. Enough for tonight. If anyone is actually reading these, you don’t have to. I’m writing a novel on WordPress and it seems like I’m only doing a couple of pages a week. Anyway, I’ll post these in the “book” category, and I’ll try to put book in the title if you want to skip, but its easier for me to write a bit at a time. Night.


As David splashed through the creek bed after leaving his mother, he couldn’t help but cry. He had loved her, and her death would have been horrible. Maybe he should have stayed and tried to help her fight them off, but she demanded he run. The fear in her voice had been so intense. He had to listen. He had to obey.

She had taught him to be strong, but she had also shown him there was great strength in recognizing his weaknesses. He would honor her with his life.

The creek was cold and he felt far enough along to step out and try to find shelter from the deepening darkness. As he clambered over the slippery rocks, his shin was gouged by a protruding twig.

Nothing like leaving a trail of blood when being chased by killers he thought to himself. Maybe they didn’t know about him. Maybe they wouldn’t try to find him. He has to get it cleaned up though, and he could see some smoke rising a little way away. The “Outcasts” don’t like fire, so it should be safe to venture toward it. Maybe they would have something to bandage his wound with as well.

David drew closer and could smell that some sort of oil was being burned with the fire. It looked like three old women were the only ones by the fire. David was out of options as he stepped from the cover of the woods.

Bedtime Stories: Double

Double, double, toil and trouble.

The steady surface hides a bubble.

One part works, the other plays.

One part runs, the other stays.

Part depressed, part amused,

Everyone remains confused.

How can two exist in one?

How can darkness hide the sun?

What the hell is wrong with me?

Chains of anger bind the free.

Ok, that’s fine. The way it goes.

It’s better mainly one side shows.

No one could understand what’s real,

Both parts make up the way I feel.

Show the pain, the somber side.

Easier the “good” to hide.

Keeping expectations low.

For days when there’s no joy to show.

But every now and then, I see

The part I wish was more of me.

The loving, happy, carefree part.

Deep within the icy heart.

If I can somehow find a way

To make that part grow and stay.

Then maybe in that burst of fun

The two would finally become one.


Okay, I might have mentioned this before, but you know Pink Floyd’s Comfortably Numb?

That song does something to me. Transports me to another time, but also reminds me of the…hmm, I don’t know how to describe it.

If anyone reading this has been on medication, particularly pain and anxiety relievers, for an extended amount of time, maybe you understand. There is a feeling captured in that song. Or rather a lack of feeling that is difficult to describe. It truly is a comfortably numb feeling. Important things seem less significant, thoughts, feelings, life in general becomes hazy, and it doesn’t matter. You don’t miss clarity of thought. You’re comfortable.

Anyway, I don’t know why I’m thinking about this. Maybe because I’m back on pain meds since the surgery. Medication and I have a love/hate relationship. I woke up with the song in my mind, and the inability to focus on what I really need to be doing, so I figured I’d write about it. Get it out of my head so I can focus on other things. Thanks for giving me a sounding board.

Sometimes it is better not to sleep.

After being awake for a few hours tonight, I decided to try going back to sleep. In about another hour, I finally did fall asleep.

For whatever reason, when I fall asleep after being awake for a while, I usually dream…really realistic, vivid dreams.

Anyway, in my dream some person from highschool came to my house, which was weird and interesting. We also have a small tree in the back yard, which in my dream was really, really tall and had a cat and a friend perched on it.

As I talked to my friend (who had magically come down from the tree without climbing or falling) we started walking toward the gate to the front yard. (Ok, here is the I should have never gone to sleep part, remember, this is only a dream…thank God).

In our front yard we have a small tree as well. The neighborhood kids love to climb in and play on this tree, but in my dream one of the neighborhood kids and an adult (maybe a dad or something) were sitting on a branch. As I watched, the branch bent down, and as if in slow motion, broke, suddenly turning as big as a tree trunk and falling on the group of children gathered underneath.Two of which were mine.

As most of you know, I am in a wheelchair, but I can use a walker for short distances. In this dream, I had my walker and I hobbled toward the branch looking desperately for my two. I soon saw their faces and torso’s and they were alive and moving a little, but you know when a kid gets hurt so bad they don’t even cry right away? That was the case. I started screaming lift it off (which now that I think about it might have been the wrong thing to do with compression injuries, but I was dreaming, and freaking out, so cut me some slack), and then I thankfully woke up.

Anyway, I know I usually write humor, but I am still really shook up from the whole dream, so just pretend you read my blog for more than just laughs. I am working on a life-changing, humorous post, but it is taking a long time because I have to do research.

That being said, I think I am going to make some coffee cause it will probably be a long day. I do feel better after writing it out, but I could use some prayers to get through the day on a few hours sleep. Thanks for listening.