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 |  Fire and Blood |
 Targaryen Musings "Game of Thrones"  -- Notes of StephBee   House Targaryen
FELLOW DRAGONS: iKïyå§ama  JACE  Choconut  GERVIC 🐉 WDC Dragon Vale  StaiNed-House Targaryen  BASICS:  Writing: Standard 500 - 1000 words for stories unless otherwise instructed. 150 words 20 lines max. unless otherwise instructed.Interactive - No limit, but please, behave.ALWAYS remember to put in WC or it won't count - no late edits! Sorry. Reviewing: characters minimum - CHARACTERS - not words, without WritingMLs! Remember that!. Please no repetitive words and/or sentences in each review to fill the void Please don't 'Stash' reviews, meaning, save them, then release them all at once. It will not be accepted.. If ANY review doesn't get credited/rewarded/added to the board, it means it didn't meet the requirements. The ONLY reviews you can do before the first five doors are unlocked in "House Of Black & White " are B-Day/Anniv. reviews REVIEW TEMPLATE FOR HOUSE TARGARYEN: Please make sure you display your badge in your reviews/items for the activity must add the text below inside your review - above or at the end of it -The views and opinions on this review are mainly the things discovered by the reader and therefore, do not reflect necessarily to the group, activity and/or event being affiliated herein. This is only the opinion and suggestions of the reviewer and it is still up to the author of this piece to consider this review as a corrective action or otherwise. You can also choose to add this text below; the point is to have the link to the game forum within your review as well: This Review was done on behalf of House Targaryen as part of "Game of Thrones" ! That produces: This Review was done on behalf of House Targaryen as part of "Game of Thrones" ! *Dragon* And last but not least, please affiliate your reviews to "The WDC Angel Army" - "The WDC Angel Army" . If you aren't a member yet, please let me know and you'll be added to the group. *Bigsmile* If you do not showcase this, we do not get points! Interactive Chapters:Once it opens, all interactive chapters are posted in "Game of Thrones" If a challenge requires an interactive chapter as part of it, you'll link it thereTo link an interactive chapter you'll write {chapter:chapterID#}Unlike regular items, interactive chapters have letters mixed with numbersDon't forget to include a word count within each chapter before you post it in "Game of Thrones" *Quill* B-Day/Anniversary Celebration: These reviews are worth 500 points per reviewNote on their personal Newsfeed 100 points-Note sent is worth 500 pointsMB or Awardicon sent 1000 pointsAll these have to be given out on the day of, not before, not after! Game Points:* Most challenges have either points attached or explained*Regular reviews, not part of any challenge, are rewarded 200 Points per qualified review*Interactive Chapters, 500 points per chapter + WC (if posted!) Gift Points As Cheers: are allowed to cheer on your team, or the opposing team*Non-participants are more than welcome to cheer on teamsBy spreading the word, we raise more GPs for all of you and the groups you're supporting!GP Cheers and their game points: For every 1000 GPs, the selected team gets 10 Game Points 10,000 GPs = 100 Game Points 100,000 GPs = 1,000 Game Points and so on
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| You've broken the GoT rules. Justify it in 500 words or less Word Count: 170 According to the show on HBO, Targaryens are the “Unburnt” – they are immune to fire, but according to George RR Martin, fire will burn Daenyrs to crisp. So, the show broke one of the cardinal rules that George RR Martin laid down. That said, if the show can break the rules, so can I! Why not? What’s gonna, happen to me? Gaby’s not gonna’ count a review or two? Big deal. Boo Hoo. I’ll send Drogon to fly over Westros and scare the Houses. I mean, that’s what the show did – totally disregarded the rules. In fact, the show had one of the WORST ENDINGS EVER of a series. So if the Targaryen’s don’t win this one, the Dragons will burn everything in sight because that’s what Targaryens do. Okay, so maybe I won’t send the Dragons to burn everything down, but those Dragons are pretty mean and ugly. Whose gonna’ tell me I can’t break the rules. Drogon’s side eye is enough to send Bronn running for the hills. DISCLAIMER: Vulgar Language. Entry at your own Risk.  |
| Door 7 – Inventions Word Count: 278 #1 Invent something useful Honestly, thinking about this one slowed me down!  One thing I can’t stand is being unable to open up a tight jar lid. I try everything. I use a gripper. Don’t work. I try banging the spoon on the jar. Nada. Hot water? Now I can’t touch it. I’d invent an automatic jar opener. It looks like an automatic can opener. You plug it in and put the jar under a suction cup. Turn it on and viola! Lid is off! #2 Make Changes Well, if I could change one thing, I would change how we lock things. For example, when we leave the house, instead of using a key to lock the door, use your hand print. When you lock a car door, use your fingerprint. Of course, we would need specially coded and matching technology but, hey if they can do it in the movies, why not now? This way thieves would have no way to steal your car or break into your front door because the items are coded just for you! People would love it. #3 Time – Would you change it? Well, what would I change it to? I don’t think I would change it. I think, as humans, we need the stability of the timeline. It would be weird to walk in and out of one’s life in the different phases. Stability of the timeline allows us to learn, grow, change, evolve and mature and I think without that, we can’t grow emotionally. Just like kids need stability growing up, we all need time to be linear and give us the stability needed to mature as human beings. |
| Grandma’s Computer Prompt ▼ Word Count: 999 Mace blew off a layer of dust from an old boarded up box. His brother joined him. “There’s some old stuff up here in Grandma’s attic, ain’t there?” Ryker put his hands on his hips. “Sure is.” Mace tore open the box. Grandma’s attic had six rooms. One room had a bed in it. The attic smelled like rotting old moth balls, but Mace didn’t mind. He thought the whole attic was full of hidden treasure. He imagined Grandma must have been so old she let pirates hide their treasure chests in the attic knowing that no one would dare to look up here for their loot. Dad had recently inherited the house and wanted to see what was in it. “Oooo, look at this!” Mace exclaimed. He picked up a metallic box out of the cardboard one. It was rectangular, with air vents and a push in button. “I think it’s an old computer.” Ryker ran his hands over it. “Look, here’s the cord.” “What should we do with it?” Mace asked. “Turn it on, of course!” “How?” Just then their dad walked into the room. “What are you two doing?” “We found Grandma’s old computer!” Mace announced. Dad walked over to the box and studied the computer. He ran his hand over it, tugged at the cord and finally whistled. “I’m impressed. I think this thing is an Intel Pentium Pro.” “What does that mean, Dad?” Ryker asked. “It’s pretty old, Son.” “Can we plug it in?” asked Mace. “Sure – look for an outlet.” Mace and Ryker hunted for an outlet in the room. Ryker waved his hands. “I found one! It’s here by the old nightstand.” Mace and his dad joined Ryker and examined the area. There was a plug outlet with a little bit of rust around the bolts. “Okay, let’s give it a try.” Mace and Ryker took the old computer tower to the nightstand. Dad placed the tower securely on the nightstand and plugged the cord in. Nothing happened. Mace pouted. “Now what?” “Ya’ gotta’ push the button,” said Ryker. He pushed the button on the front of the tower. The massive computer spurted then sputtered and whirred a little, then a lot, like it was chugging up a long hill. Mace frowned. Ryker crossed his arms. Dad rubbed his hands together. Finally, the old gadget steadied itself and the whirring became constant. “I don’t see anything,” said Mace. “It needs a monitor,” said Dad. “What’s that?” asked Mace. “It looks like an old TV screen. Let’s poke around a few more boxes.” Mace and Ryker scrambled off to the spot where he found the computer and started tearing open the other boxes around it. Dust went flying everywhere. “Be careful, Boys.” “Maybe we’ll find some pirate loot,” said Mace. He ripped open a box and held up an old ceramic looking piggie. “Your Grandma was not that old,” Dad replied. “I think I found it.” Ryker lifted an old object out of a worn box. The screen was flat, but there was a round back to it and two long plugs coming out of the rounded part. “That’s it!” Dad took the device from Ryker and hooked it up to the old computer tower. Then, he plugged it in. The screen flickered a couple of times and then a massive blast of ones and zero’s flashed on the screen until it settled into a series of words. Mace gapped. “Wow. Now what?” The screen was black, and the letters were white. There appeared to be a bunch of code on the screen and a line was flashing. Before it said the word “Password.” “We need a keyboard.” Dad walked over to the collection of boxes and rooted through them, finally holding up a typist’s keyboard. He walked over and connected the cord to the tower. “Dad, what does MS-DOS mean?” asked Ryker. Dad rubbed his chin. “I think it means it’s the software that runs the program.” “It wants a password,” said Mace. “I have no idea what your grandma could have used as a password. Let me try something.” Dad typed a couple of letters on the keyboard but every time the computer let out a loud beep and typed “Password incorrect.” “What do you think is on the computer?” asked Mace. Dad shrugged. “I have no idea. Maybe Grandma put her digital pictures on here. Or maybe she saved her recipes on it.” “Maybe Grandma wrote the great American novel and it’s waiting to be discovered,” Mace added. “Grandma wasn’t much of a writer, but maybe,” said Dad. “You’ve got quite an imagination, Son.” Ryker pursed his lips. “We need that password.” Mace could tell Ryker’s curiosity was starting to get the better of him, and when it did, he usually was like a detective who wouldn’t quit. “Let’s give it a rest and check out another part of the attic,” suggested Dad. Mace shrugged his shoulders. “Dad, I’m going to stay here and go through all these boxes,” said Ryker. “Okay. Mace, come check out this old kitchen with me.” Mace trudged down the hall with his Dad, and they started poking around in the old kitchen. Time flew by. His dad joked about turning the old house into a museum and making a few bucks off it. Dad’s watch lit up. He glanced at it. “It’s been four hours. Your mom brought us something from the local salad shop to eat.” “Good. I’m hungry,” declared Mace. “Let’s go check on Ryker,” suggested Dad. They went back to the old computer room. Ryker was trying passwords that he’d found in an old diary. “Hey, Ryker, it’s dinnertime,” said Dad. “Just one last password.” He typed it in. The computer flashed! It worked. “Ooooo!” exclaimed Mace. They all huddled around the screen as it came to life. A word document flicked open. “What does it say?” asked Mace. Dad laughed. “The Great American Novel.” |
| Word Count: 495 ABOUT ME My name is Steph and my last name starts with a “B.” When I was a leader in the Boy Scouts, I just had the scouts call me Mrs. B and somehow StephBee just grew out of that. I’ve got a license plate frame that says “Queen Bee.” I just read intuey  Door 6 post and I have to agree – I believe in God and I believe the relationship with God is much more important than a religion, though I have taught Religious Ed for my church in the past. I always tried to frame topics in a spiritual light for the children and less on “man made laws.” I think, for me, it was important that the kids get to know God and Jesus than a “church.” Having two boys and being a Boy Scout leader brought me out to nature more, which I appreciated. I love the scent of fresh pine trees and grass. I also like watching the night sky and was an Astronomy MB Counselor for the scouts as well. Both the boys are Eagle Scouts. I work for LAPD as a 911 dispatcher full time, but I’m planning on retiring in 3 years and moving back to my native state of New Hampshire. I am a published author. My small press publishing went out of business in 2018 and I’ve been slowly getting my stories back on Amazon through self-publishing. You can find me under “Stephanie Burkhart” if you want to check out my Amazon titles. I’m a collector. I have over 3K comic books and comic, football, hockey, baseball cards from the 90’s. TEAM MEMBER I chose iKïyå§ama . She’s the leader of our Targaryen team, and I admire her very much. One of the things I know about Kiya is that she’s a FANTASTIC leader – especially here on WDC. I think we came to WDC around the same time give or take a couple of months. I’m not counting. Kiya established the Angel Army and I wanted to be part of it. If anything, I can’t thank Kiya ENOUGH for her incredible PATIENCE with me – especially when I was a Boy Scout leader for the boys, as I neglected being an active leader at the Angel Army. Kiya is also incredibly creative – especially visually. Her graphics are some of the best I’ve seen on the Internet. Another thing about Kiya – she’s a very talented writer. Everything I’ve read in her port hits all the right notes for me. Characterization is spot on, she nails the setting – pacing is great. All her stories are engaging, and she’s not afraid to try different themes or genres. Her biggest accomplishment is keeping the Angel Army going and I’m so proud to her teammate here on Games of Thrones. OPPONENT TEAM MEMBER I’m delighted to talk about intuey . She recently joined my group, “The Bee Hive,” and I can’t thank her for wanting to be a start of something new for me. (It’s a small group, but I’m hoping to grow it.) As we talked, I found out we have a lot in common – except I dislike peas and she loves them. Her favorite veggie is collard greens. She is incredibly talented in handicrafts (as the scouts would say) and dabbles in painting, mixed media, jewelry making, crocheting, and photography. She likes 70’s music the best. Heck, I’m a big Led Zeppelin fan. I’ve read some of the items in her port and I enjoy her writing a lot. I’m always happy to see an entry from her in the Bard’s Hall. |
| Prompt ▼ A Boy and His Dog Word Count: 134 Lines: 16 He woke up one morning alive and bright, And dared to turn on the light. What did he find at the end of his bed? His dog wagging his tail ready to be fed. “C’Mon, Andy, I’m hungry for some slop!” Andy’s yawn stopped dead cold, and his eyes grew wide, “Ollie, did you just talk?” “I sure did, and I need a walk.” Andy threw the covers off and hunted down his pants, While Ollie wagged his tail some more and pranced. “How is it possible that you just talked?” “I knocked over Suzie’s leftover drink by chance.” Andy raced downstairs and let Ollie out, His hands on his hips, he tried not to freak, And Ollie came in ready to eat. What was he gonna’ do with a dog that could speak? |
 Prompt ▼ Trouble, Trouble, Burning Bright Words: 143 Lines: 29 Trouble, Trouble Burning Bright, Tha-thum, tha-thum Under the guise of full moonlight. Tha-thum, tha-thum An item lost that must be found, She knows where, she knows when, She must have it to be crowned. Ah, but night is alive with Trouble, Trouble, Burning Bright She sneaks, she slinks, Tha-thum, tha-thum Avoiding the guards, avoiding the snakes - Tha-thum, tha-thum A silent vibe charges the air, Something new – something rare. Silent, excited, she follows the fox, to the place the scarf was lost. He is there, holding the prize. Ah, with a smile to shatter her defenses - And Trouble, Trouble, Burning Bright. He is her intended, never met, Tha-thum, tha-thum Inquisitive like her, with no regrets. Tha-thum, tha-thum Magic fills the air, He holds out his hand A breathe hitched, no demand. He is exquisite. And there will be… Trouble, Trouble, Burning Bright |
| Her Story #7 - The Scarf Prompt ▼ Word Count: 978 Her mother wanted to see Caroline wear that scarf tomorrow, which meant Caroline had to go find it – tonight. Thank goodness she knew all the secret staircases and doorways. Well, actually, Jane and Louise, her ladies, knew all the secrets. Caroline slipped out of the door near her father’s study and glanced around. The cleaning maids had finished their tasks. The keep’s lights were recently recharged with oil. She spied her father’s study. A wide grin crested her lips. Her parents were in their apartments. She opened the door to the study just enough for her to slip inside and went to the French glass doors that opened up to a field which lead to a heavily wooded forest. She glanced at the pocket watch Jane had given her. Midnight. Caroline had an hour to retrieve that scarf, and she was determined not to be late. She placed her hand over the doorknob. “I ask for quiet to hide my intentions,” she whispered. The door effortlessly opened, and she stepped outside. The air was warm – inviting. A full moon overhead lit up the night, giving her just enough light to find the path where she believed the scarf was on. Caroline briskly walked to next door over and found a quiver, a bow, and several arrows. Bless Louise! She thought of everything. Caroline had no intention of going into the forest to retrieve this scarf without some protection, and aside from being the Crown Princess of Carpathia, she was the best archer this side of Ploiesti. She glanced up. Guards were in the watch towers. She sighed. She’d have to stick to the few moon cast shadows that led to tree line. Patience was never her strong suit. Mindful of her plan, Caroline made it to the edge of the forest. The quiver was secured over her shoulder, and she grasped her bow tight. She found the horse trail and began walking toward the fallen tree where she believed her scarf was at, basking in the warmth of the moon. The woods were quiet. There were no boars grunting, no squirrels stirring the tree limbs. There was just the moon leading her along the path. Caroline had always been a risk taker, but she needed to take better care of the scarf. It meant more to her mother than it did her, yet it was the distinguishing item that told the world she was the Crown Princess. She heard a rustle and glanced over. Just a fox. He stopped and paused, then waved at the path. Curious. What did he know? Warmth swirled around her body, electricity charged her senses, and the night invited her deeper into the woods. She wasn’t afraid. After all, only her parents and her ladies knew she was witch. The fox would race ahead and stop, waiting for her. She’d catch up and he would run forward. Oh, no, this fox was crafty one. She was getting closer to the fallen tree. Earlier in the day, Selene, her horse, had jumped over it with ease, but the scarf must have gotten jarred lose from her person and fallen. A moon bean fell down in front of the tree. The fox jumped over it. Electricity in the air sent goose bumps on her arms. “Hello.” Her eyes cut to the tree stump next to the fallen log. On it sat a young man, around her age, seventeen? Eighteen, she would guess, lit up in the moonlight. His brown curly hair flopped over his forehead, but it was his malachite eyes that riveted her to the spot. His brown pants were tucked neatly into his riding boots. He wore a white button-down shirt, and a navy-blue jacket with gold shoulder epaulets. He grinned, revealing a mischievous dimple. He was more than a simple woodsman. She had never seen him before – but he was incredibly handsome. “Hello,” she replied, breathlessly. He held up her scarf. “Missing this?” “Why yes, I am.” Her lips grew into a smile. “How did you come to acquire it?” “I knew it would be here.” “You did?” “I arranged for you to lose it.” There was that dimple again! “Do I need to hitch an arrow?” she asked. He waved his hand and stood up, grinning. “Nothing so drastic, Princess.” “Well, you have me at a disadvantage. Who might you be?” “Stefan Sigmaringen.” Caroline furrowed her brow. His name was familiar. She studied him, his beautiful green eyes that warmed in the moonlight, his angled nose, his masculine cheekbones, his haunting dimple, his hair, curly and full, reminiscent of a lion’s mane. “Stefan,” she whispered. “My intended.” “Ah, you remembered my name.” He slowly walked forward, stopping just outside of her personal space and studied her, drinking her features in, before raising his hand with the scarf. “You’re supposed to arrive tomorrow – with your family.” “I preferred a more intimate first meeting than an awkward one in front of hundreds of people.” “I see.” He held up the scarf, offering it to her. She pursed her lips. “I don’t know what to make of this.” “Touch the scarf.” She grasped the scarf as he instructed and felt warm emotions sliding from the scarf up her arm. The tendrils carried his own apprehension, his own worries, and doubts, and a hint of attraction. “You’re a witch,” she whispered. “As are you.” “But no one else knows that I am,” she replied. “I suspect fair princess, there is more to our arranged marriage than we’ve been told.” He released the scarf and stood before her, his hands on his hips and that incredible smile melting her defenses. One hand clutched the scarf, and one hand clutched her bow. “Am I dreaming?” He reached out hesitantly, and cupped her cheek. “No. Tomorrow we’ll have our formal meeting, but tonight, is for us.” Dropnote ▼ |
| Dragons on High Daily Flash Ficton Entry for 4/6/2024
Word Count: 299 Oberyn dragged the wooden skiff onto the sandy shore. Daylight had just tipped over the horizon. Lors secured the rope and hooked it through a metal ring on the boat. Then he tied it to the growing tree next to the shrubs on the shore. “I can’t believe no one is here.” Oberyn placed his hands on his hips and glanced toward the stone steps that lead to the keep on Dragonstone. “Stannis is gone.” Lors paused. “However, I’ve heard that dragons have been sighted over the Stone Drum.” “Dragons? There’s a dragon lord?” “Word is there’s a Targaryen in Meereen,” said Lors. “Bah! That’s a rumor,” Oberyn scoffed. “Let’s go. We need the gold.” He pulled out a map from his pocket, studied it for a moment and pointed at the stone steps. Lors blew out a long breath and they began their ascent. The first fifty stairs were easy for Oberyn. He was in great shape. The next fifty steps winded him. About halfway up the climb, there was a small courtyard. He spied a wooden door that led into what Oberyn supposed were the lower halls of the keep. Lors’ nose twitched. “You smell that? Brimstone.” Oberyn raised an eyebrow. “Something’s in the air,” said Lors. “It’s nothing. Let’s not lose focus. Morgan wants that gold.” Oberyn went to the wood door. It wiggled. He pushed his shoulder against it. The door creaked. Rusted iron hinges needed more incentive. Oberyn kicked the wood and it opened. He peeked his head instead. The room stunk with brimstone. Goose bumps ripped down his arms. Two large eyes snapped open. “What is it?” asked Lors. “It’s a dragon! Let’s get out of here!” Oberyn sprinted for the stairs, Lors on his heals. |
| Note: Daily Flash Fiction entry for 4/4/2024 WINNER! For the Daily Flash Fiction 4/42024!
The Key Word Count: 294 She left her key behind. He stared at it for a long time before drawing in a long breath. What should he do? It was their second date. They’d shared a meal at the local Mexican restaurant, nothing fancy. If anything, Casa Lupita was a bit “divey” in the truck stop part of town, with only six tables inside and a tacky yellow paint job, but the food was outstanding. They’d spent a long time talking and the waitress didn’t seem to care. She filled up their chips with a smile. He asked her for a nightcap. She said “yes.” They went to his place and shared a rum and coke – her choice - and talked even longer. She glanced at her watch and suggested she leave. He leaned over and kissed her – a soft, gentle kiss. She placed her hand on his chest just when he thought it was going to go further. She wasn’t ready. He nodded his acceptance. She got up and went to the door. Her purse was on the stand next to it. Anxious? Nervous? The purse spilled over and tipped over its contents. He helped her pick the items up – a makeup container, lipstick, a lucky two dollar bill. She fumbled to put the contents back in the bag and awkwardly left. About twenty minutes later he spied the key on the stand. What should he do? He walked over to his kitchen window and stared out onto the night sky. The moon was full and bright – full of life. Dare he bring her the key? He sighed, torn. He suspected she was just as reluctant to let the evening go as he was – she just wasn’t ready for more. Acknowledging that, he turned around toward the door. |
Game of Thrones, Door 1 Life Less Traveled Word Count: 831 She sat on the bench, waiting for the bus. About twenty minutes more. Cars whizzed by. The traffic turned yellow, then red. She took a sip from her water bottle. What next? It was a simple question - asked simply - but Schala honestly didn’t know. She was a senior in high school. Graduation was just around the corner. She loved her twelfth-grade Psychology of Communication class. The teacher was extremely patient when introducing topics and fleshing them out. There were only ten kids in the class, and everyone was required to keep a journal. Today’s question was simple – what’s next? Schala always gave the standard answer. Get a job. Go to school part time. It’s what everyone expected her to say. Reality was different. She was the oldest of five. Her mom worked a job at McDonalds and cleaned houses on the side to make ends meet. Her father came around when he came around. Her mom hustled to make enough money to make ends meet. “Schala – finish school. I’ll make due. It’s important to me that you finish school.” Schala helped out at the house, of course. She’d cook meals, wash dishes, make sure Adrian did his homework. They had a policy – turn the phone in when doing homework and you’ll get it back. Adrian always needed help with his homework. He wanted to go to play football for Alabama and get in the NFL. He had potential. He loved football. But homework? He struggled. At least he knew what was next. Schala sighed. She didn’t want to get caught in the circle her mom was in. There had to be more to life than working and children. And she didn’t mean that the wrong way – she loved her siblings, but she wanted … more. Like Adrian. An older woman, about forty, Schala would guess sat down at the bus stop. She wore a blue medical smock and a light overcoat. She fussed with her purse and blew out a long breath. “Say, do you have the time?” Schala glanced at her watch. “It’s three-ten.” “Bus comes at three-twenty, right?” “Yes.” Schala paused. “Long day?” “Yes. I work at the ER at Longview Medical. Are you a student?” “Yes, at West High.” The traffic light on the corner turned red. One car blew the light and to Schala’s horror, T-Boned a blue Honda that had entered the intersection. The older woman shot up “Oh my God! Come with me – I need to see if there are any injuries!” Schala glanced at the woman, to the traffic accident, back to her. What next? The woman ran to the mangled mess of cars. Smoke poured from the engines, fluids dripped out of the cars. Bystanders stood stock-still as the women rushed forward. Schala flung her backpack over her shoulders and followed the woman. Scared? Yeah, she was scared, but the woman was the only one who seemed to know what to do. “You,” – she pointed at a man holding his phone, “Call 911.” He nodded and began dialing. Schala joined her. They both wiped smoke out of their eyes. “Hey, that car’s gonna catch on fire!” A bystander yelled. The woman and Schala glanced at the engine, then the woman looked at Schala. “I need your help. Trust me.” Schala nodded. Adrenaline pulsed through her. The woman tugged at the driver’s side door and it opened. The woman undid the seatbelt. Schala helped slide the driver, a man, out of the car. He was unconscious. Heat blasted them. “Get out of the there!” Schala glanced up – fire was seeping from the engine block. “We gotta’ hustle,” the woman said. Schala grabbed the legs, and the woman grabbed the man’s arms, and they inched forward. A second man wearing a white t-shirt and blue jeans joined Schala and helped her. They raced out to the sidewalk. The car burst into flames. Two other men were pulling the driver from out from the other car. The unconscious driver lay before them on the sidewalk, blood coming out of one of his ears. The woman put two fingers against his neck. “I’m checking for a pulse. Is he breathing?” Schala put a hand on his chest. It was going up and down. “Yes.” The woman looked at Schala and the man who assisted them. “I’m a doctor. The pulse is weak, can you see if he’s further hurt?” Schala began feeling his feet then his legs, then his torso. “I think he’s okay.” Sirens blared in the background. “Thank you for your help – both of you,” the woman said. “If it wasn’t for both of you acting so quickly, I don’t think he’d be alive,” the man said. “I’ll stay with you until help arrives,” Schala said, wanting to see this through. “Thank you.” The woman offered a small smile, feeling the unconscious man’s head. “He might have a concussion.” What’s next? A doctor? A nurse? A paramedic? Schala smiled. |
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Rest those bony fingers and eat seafood and shop. You'll be all relaxed and ready to go to battle, again. 
