To the readers who took interest in my last post:

I am experiencing technical-I mean literary- difficulties. I started writing a second part to the story, when the characters started acting strangely, and the plot began concealing a deep secret. I know that it has a very different twist to it then I envision now, and the whole story line is turning from a kidnapping to something even more serious. Until I can straighten things out even the littlest bit, I am as stuck as Kyle and Ned, wondering what will be the outcome of the whole thing.

The Authoress


Here it is, the middle of the week, the month, the year, and I have nothing worth posting.....

I awoke in the midst of a high sweat, and looked about me. The room was still dark, for it was night, but streaks of light were dancing on the walls as they did when.... When? When a car was driving into our drive way. I sat up, and looked out the window. A sleek, black car with the brightest of headlights was in the process of parking just outside our garage.
"Burglars?" I thought. I hastily pulled on some of yesterday's clothes, and grabbed a flashlight that sat on my nightstand. I stumbled through the boxes on my bedroom floor..... We were in the process of packing things up for moving. I jerked open the door, frantically pushing a pile of books aside, and trying to stay quiet. I had only just got into the hall, though, when Dad emerged from his room. He, too, had thrown his clothes on in his haste, and he signaled for me to stay were I was. He walked cautiously downstairs. Mom came out of the room next, and looked rather bedraggled in a pair old jeans, rumpled blue vest, and bright yellow shirt. Her hair was immentionably messy, but I didn't notice in my anxious frame of mind.
"Do you know what's going on?" I asked her in a whisper.
"No," she replied, and placed a finger to her lips. We stood there for twenty minutes total, listening attentively for any clue. Finally, I broke the silence.
"Should I go down and see what's wrong?"
"No," Mom said again, but this time with some hestitation. "Maybe I should."
"Is it safe?" I said doubtfully.
"Who knows," mom said with a sigh and a shrug. "But your dad is not coming back. I'm going to see what's detained him." She crept downstairs as quietly as possible, and I felt uncomfortable. What if some thing was amiss? What if dad lay unconscious some where, or desperately wounded? No, there had been no sound of a struggle. I waited impatiently. My twin brother, Kyle, peeked out of his room.
"What's going on, Ned?" he asked.
"Hush! not so loud," I replied.
"But what's up?" He whispered.
"I don't know."
"Where's mom and dad?"
"Downstairs; their trying to find out why the car's in our drive way."
"Do you think it's robbers?" he said excitedly.
"I hope not," I replied with a sigh. Just then, we heard a faint cry coming from the kitchen, and then a door slammed, and-
We didn't wait to hear more. Throwing away all discretion, Kyle and I darted down the dark fleet of steps. I flipped the light on when we reached the hall, and Kyle ran into the kitchen. I was a bout to follow, when I heard the motor of the car start, and looked out the window hastily. The black car was driving away. The drivers were not visible, but there were two of them sitting in the front seat, and one in the back. I turned on the porch lights, just in time to see that the two in the front wore masks and hats with wide brims. The ideal robber-looking characters! Wouldn't Kyle like to see this! But there was no time to call him, for they drove out into the road in a reckless fashion, and disappointed into the night.
"Ned? Ned?" Kyle called. "Where are you?"
"Just here, Kye!" I called back. I went into the kitchen. "They were bandits, those fellows in the car, and you ought to have seen them with their hats and masks. Why, they looked just like gangsters from the mid-west, and-"
"But, Ned, you can tell me about their costumes later! Where's mom and dad?" Kyle's face marked confusion and despair.
"Mom and dad?" I gasped. "Where are they?"
"That's what I was wondering," Kyle replied. He took one more glance around the room, and headed for the living room. I cut across into the garage, and opened the door. I was almost afraid to do so, lest I be met with the sight of mom and dad bound and gagged, or, even worse, lying badly wounded on the concrete floor of our garage. They weren't there, though, and I was about the go back inside when I saw something sparkle in the light of my flashlight. I rushed over to the small round object in the corner by the door, and found it to be one of mom's earrings.
"Kyle!" I called, and my brother rushed out to me.
"They aren't in the house at all!" he cried frantically.
"But look at this," I said, handing him the earing.
"What do you make of that," Kyle said in a tone that implied that he didn't know what to think about it. "Are you sure it's mom's? Was she wearing it?"
"No one else here wears earrings," I said.
"But mom is so absentminded that she could have dropped it here two weeks ago and not even noticed!"
"Yes, I guess so...." my voice trailed off as investigated the corner briefly. "Kyle?" I said uncertainly.
"What now?" Kyle sighed. He didn't wonder long, however, for a simple glimpse at the corner that I observed told him plainly what I thought. A trace of blood was evident on the door frame, and a small pile of crumbled paint and mortar on the floor was proof that the door had been slammed. We looked at each other in bewilderment, and I opened the door quickly, emerging into our front yard. It looked spooky in the night, even with the floodlights on. Kyle followed me.
"Well?" he said.
"Well, what?"
"Do see any thing?"
"Do you mean Mom and Dad? No, this is surely a puzzle."
"Should we-we call the police?" Kyle's voice trembled.
"I guess we should. Let's look for them first, though. I'll look in the bushes, and you look in the shed."
"Okay, I guess," Kyle said. We both instinctively felt fear. I searched the bushes faithfully, but only succeeded in extracting a lost tennis ball; a worn sneaker, half full of water; and a soggy roll from Saturday's picnic. Kyle didn't have any better luck in the shed.
"I found this cool kite, though!" He exclaimed. "I'm sure it's the one I lost last summer!"
"What was it doing in the shed?"
"I'm not sure," was his reply. Suddenly he snapped his fingers. "I know!"
"What?" I said quickly.
"It had a hole in the side, and dad was going to fix it for me!"
"Would you stop about that kite?" I said fiercely. "Mom and Dad's lives could be at stake!" This put a new light on things, and Kyle immediatly dropped the kite in the yard.
"What should we do?" he cried as if the news was new to him.
"We can look in the backyard," I hinted. He followed me in painful silence. Our search proved worthless, and we were forced to admit defeat. We went back up into the kitchen, and evaluated our circumstance.
"A black car drives up with two or three masked men, and dad and mom, each in turn, go downstairs to investigate. There is no struggle that we know of, but each of them disappear leaving no trace but some blood and an earring. Then the door slammed and the robbers make off. did they take any thing?"
"Not that I could see, and I looked through the whole house," Kyle replied promptly.
"Some thing's not right," I groaned. I picked up the phone and left a notice at the police station. They promised to send some one out as soon as they could be spared. Kyle grimaced as I told him, and complained,
"That's fine, but what about food?"
"Food?" I said, and then realized that I, too, felt hungry. "There's some in the pantry I think."
"Really there is?" Kyle said sarcastically. "I knew that, Ned, but I don't want it to stay in the pantry. I want it in my stomach right now." I nodded, and ransacked the pantry, leaving only a "crumb too small for a mouse."
At my suggestion, we trudged upstairs to sleep until the police arrived.

To be continued....


Happy Father's Day!
I am glad I have such a fun and God-fearing Dad!
Love you, Dad!


"Hello, Jim! Let's build a road right here!" A sturdy fellow by the name of Max pointed to a steep cliff side.
"It'll take some work, Max," the sensible Jim worried.
"Dynamite will do the trick, so don't you worry a bit!"
"Yes, we'll blow a trench into the cliff side, just large enough for a road," and Max grinned happily.
"Okay, let's get to work then," Jim replied.

This is the conversation that took place a month ago. Now, Jim was looking at the smoking cliff side, and wondering if they really should have blown it up. Just then, a deep rumbling sound was heard. It was heard in the nearby city, too - and felt. Houses and windows crashed, and buildings shook. Cars were buried under the remains of an apartment. The distant mountain felt it too. The mayor of the city was shocked at the devastation; however, closer investigation showed that no one was lost in the damage. This was a relief, and the mayor was able to get the city back into order.
The distant mountain was angry at being disturbed. And so it showed its anger through the spouting out of flame and lava. The lava rolled slowly down the mountain side, and covered the streets of the little city with a molten layer. The mountain, in spite of its bad intentions, helped out the people of the city tremendously, for they now had freshly paved streets, and none of their homes were ruined in the volcano.
There was, however, a horrible heat, and ashes filled the skies. The ashes put the weather in confusion, and sent down a heavy blizzard of deep, wet snow. The snow filled the streets and covered houses, and sent people a mighty chill. It took away the traces of heat, but the snow was so deep that it became a nuisance. But was this all?
No, the Volcano also shook the ocean. The ocean swirled in fury, and created a big hurricane. The hurricane came and defeated the snow in the city, making it all a wet, slushy thing. The hurricane caused much damage to the houses, and debris hung in the streets every where.
The hurricane made a huge tidal wave that slapped upon the sea shore where the city sat, and washed away the debris. The then the sun came out and dried and baked the city, till not a puddle of water remained. The city took a year or so before every thing was back as it should be.

Jim and Max sat in their sun chairs watching the big trucks finishing the road on the cliff side.
"That little earthquake mixed things up a bit, wouldn't you say?"
"Indeed, Jim. I'm glad nothing worse happened."
It would be best if we didn't tell them what damage they caused by the cliff they blew up.


"The Forest Ground"

When there is not a single soul around,
Who can tell what's on the forest ground?
Could not the smallest, lonely tree,
Begin to sing a melody?

Could not a big gray rock bake,
A "Happy Birthday cup-cake?"
Could tulips grow though it's autumn?
No one can tell, so don't ask them.


Poor Pictures

This is the "before being dissected and having several transplants" picture. This what an innocent looking picture looks like before it is touched up and changed.
Of course, an image can't help itself if it does get changed. Even the simplest of programs can change a photo drastically, and make it look like a tossed-salad. Photos have no control over whether or not they will be pounced upon. they can, however, get annoyed at the person who changed it. And I think that this photo will be very annoyed at me after it sees what I have done to it. So, at last I present you with this photo: I'm calling it "the winter blues." What on earth happened to this poor picture? you ask. I would ask too. But it isn't as hard as it looks to change a photo into this, unfortunately. (Unfortunate for the picture, that it is.) You merely click the button that says: "Invert colors" and there you have it. And now, last but most assuredly, not least, the forest picture: I'm calling this one, "searches for squash," because a harmless looking fellow is looking in the wood for squash. Not a good idea, so I think this fellow might be rather funny in his head. He is, however, being rewarded in his search. (this we can tell from his delighted smile.)

And thus ends my picture-fracturing career. At least for today.......