Monday, May 19, 2022

Welcome, all. You wouldn’t believe how down on myself I’ve been, because I haven’t been able to plunge through the PTSD-anxiety that keeps me from finishing “Dead of Winter.” I had also forgotten about the Thursday Doors writing challenge, hosted by Dan Antion. I had promised to participate and was looking forward to it. I was sure I would be completely finished with my fantasy epic by then. Ha…!
Then one evening after berating myself for yet another day, I decided that any kind of storytelling would be better for me than none at all. Despite it being a detour, it might even get me back on track with Dead of Winter. So, at the end of a fruitless day, I indulged myself in working on a story for one of the Doors prompts. I stayed up late into the night polishing it. Then a few days later, still having the same problem, once again I sat up past midnight writing a second prompt story.
Here is the first. My inspiration was equal parts from Deborah Zajac’s photo (titled “Near New Orleans”) and an old song from Credence Clearwater Revival. Thanks to Deborah for also letting me use some of the other photos. Her lovely door photo has a happy, sunny vibe. There’s no accounting for the twisting way my mind works. Ha! That seatless bicycle took me down a not so sunny road! I hope you enjoy it.
Born on the Bayou

When I was just a little girl, I used to pretend I was a fast freight train. One rainy, sweltering Louisiana day I played my game inside, to my Papa’s annoyance. When I made a third pass around his favorite chair, choo-chooing and choogling as I ran, he stuck out his arms and caught me. He wheezed, swinging me up onto his knee.
“Oya, child… now simmer down,” he began, but whatever playful remark he had been about to make abruptly changed after a spasm of coughing. “Girl, don’t let the man get you, and do what he done to me. Cause he’ll get you. Ain’t no doubt about it,” he warned raggedly before letting me back down.
It was a long time before I understood just who and what “the man” was.
Those old memories tumbled as I trudged around a large vacant lot across the street from my store. Born on the bayou, I knew which weeds and wildflowers were more than mere nuisances. Some were healing herbs. Even the humble dandelion could make a potion for infections and digestive problems. The roots could be roasted to make something similar to coffee. They were plentiful and I cut and dug basketful.

As I bent to the task, my old hound dog started barking. I quieted her. Cece was a good dog, and mostly well behaved. Something about the way she acted made me uneasy.
I looked over my shoulder to the door to my herb shop. Suddenly, I wished I was back on the bayou. Then I shook my head. After Papa died, there wasn’t anything left for me there.
“Nothing but memories and hoodoos,” I mumbled to myself.
The dog started barking again. I shushed her, but it did no good. She only got more excited.
“Cece, hush! What’s got into you?”
Before I could stop her, Cece bounded off toward the back-wood bay. I ran after her.
My shop, and home, was on the outskirts of New Orleans, barely in the Big Easy at all. As I chased Cece, the hound dog was soon in thick woods. It seemed to be darker there than it should. A shiver went down my spine.
“You dang mutt, come back here. Do ya think you’re gonna chase down a hoodoo there?” I called after the dog, running through the trees and bushes, breathing hard as I tried to catch up to her.

Cece skidded to a halt. She was barking to beat the band. Suddenly she quieted and whimpered. I put two fingers through the loop in her collar and nervously pulled her next to me. Twigs cracked at our small movements. I scanned the area, looking carefully between trees and around bushes. I didn’t see anything.
The hound dog and I both looked over our shoulders repeatedly as we left the back-wood bay. By the time we got back to the shop, the sun was setting.
My front door up ahead was a welcome sight. I paused to catch my breath, once we were in the vacant lot again. However, my breath stopped when I saw the curious old bicycle. It was propped against one of the posts that held up the porch roof. Why did that make me so uneasy?
“It’s just an old bike,” I told myself. “It doesn’t even have a seat. Somebody probably got tired of trying to pedal standing up and just happened to leave it there.”
I heard footsteps behind me. Cece whined. Whirling, I saw nothing but twilight shadows. I swallowed. Someone or something had followed us from the back-woods.
Why did that bicycle make me feel like I was blocked from entering my shop? The seatless bike ahead, and something unknown from behind. I shivered.

My fingernails dug into my palm, from the white-knuckled grip I had on the hound dog’s collar. A cold wind blew against the back of my neck. I turned, looking toward the woods. An old man, walking hunched over, approached the vacant lot. A familiar shape and shuffling walk, he paused with the setting sun at his back. His gaze fixed on me.
“Oya, don’t let the man get you,” Papa called softly and gestured toward my shop. “Get on back to your house.”
Well, I could remember that long past Fourth of July. I would never forget the day Papa passed away. Yet there he was.
“Papa?” I questioned.
His translucent form blurred. Then it disappeared altogether.
The back of my neck prickled. It was as if I could feel eyes watching me. Back there in the woods, shadows began to coalesce.
Acid in my stomach grew hot. I swallowed and took a deep breath, trying to control the nausea. My brain told my head to turn back around and my feet to move. Neither part of my body seemed to be listening. The dim shape started out of the woods, coming closer.
Cece shifted impatiently. Her whimper snapped me out of my confusion. I gazed at my door again. What was it about that broken bike that made me feel like it was related to the shadowy form?
New Orleans ladies sashayed by, their bright dresses matching the brilliant sunset. They walked past the old bicycle, not even seeming to notice it. Somehow, that gave me courage.

Clicking my tongue to Cece, we crossed the street. I put my key in the lock, determined not to look at the bicycle. I couldn’t understand why it should have such an effect on me. As the deadbolt shifted, I opened the door. Cece and I went inside.
As fast as I could, I turned around and threw the deadbolt back into place. I leaned against the doorframe, breathing hard. The twilight sky clouded, causing night to fall suddenly.
As my gaze shifted from the clouded heavens and down to earth, I saw the dark form step onto the sidewalk, just outside the door. Gasping, I grabbed the hound dog’s collar again. I pulled Cece away from the door and down behind the counter with me.
Shushing the dog’s whine, I listened. There was a faint scratching at the door. I squeezed my eyes shut, murmuring a fervent prayer. After a moment, I couldn’t hear anything other than the dog’s soft panting.
I hazarded a look around the side of the counter. The shadowy shape moved to the old bicycle. With a slow metallic screech, the pedals moved as “the man” stood, first on the right pedal then on the left, slowly bringing the bicycle into motion.
When the form was out of sight, I unconsciously sucked in a sharp, deep breath of air.
“It’s a good thing we were born on the bayou, Cece. We know when to chase down a hoodoo… and when it’s better to just hide,” I told my old hound dog and she wagged her tail.
The end.
♦♦♦
Thanks for visiting with me. Click the link to Dan’s blog to see more doors and more stories. I hope you’ll stop and leave a friendly comment. Hugs on the wing!
♦♦♦
Meanwhile, “Dead of Winter: Journey 13, the Harbor” is available
Thanks for spending part of your day here. I’m grateful to everyone who is reading this story. If you aren’t already, I hope you’ll be part of the extraordinary, layered world of these Journeys.
I love to hear from you, so friendly comments are encouraged. Hugs on the wing!
♦♦♦
Dead of Winter — All the Journeys
Universal Purchase Links
Journey 13, The Harbor
Kindle: relinks.me/B09TN3NDX1
Paperback: relinks.me/B09TN1F58B
Journey 12, Goddesses
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Journey 11, the Sumelazon Escarpment
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Paperback: relinks.me/B09M4QWDYK
Journey 10, Pergesca
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Paperback: relinks.me/B09J7GFWYV
Journey 9, Doors of Attunement
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Paperback: relinks.me/B09F1BB9RW
Journey 8, The Lost Library
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Paperback: relinks.me/B09C34XR7P
Journey 7, Revenant Pass
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Paperback: relinks.me/B098GV1G5V
Journey 6, The Fluting Fell
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Paperback: relinks.me/B096CPJNSX
Journey 5, Llyn Pistyll Falls
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Paperback: relinks.me/B0942KC471
Journey 4, The Old Road
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Paperback: relinks.me/B092M51Y88
Journey 3, the Fever Field
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Journey 2, Penllyn
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Paperback: relinks.me/B08VLMR2KD
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/dead-of-winter-journey-2-penllyn
Journey 1, Forlorn Peak
Kindle: relinks.me/B08RBBVRGX
Paperback: relinks.me/B08R7RH4F5
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This is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2010 and 2022 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene
All rights reserved.
No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.
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Your writing is truly some of the best! Always enjoy reading 😉
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You just gave me a huge smile. Thanks for spending part of your day here. Hugs on the wing!
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I LOVED THE BAYOU STORY–what talent!!!
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You are so kind, Rae — thank you. For once I was pleased with my own work on that one. I’m extremely self-critical. Have a blessed Memorial Day.
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Wonderful, Teagan. Never, ever, ever berate yourself. Only praise and encourage yourself. Hugs, Toni x
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You are so kind, Toni — thank you. The day when I can stop berating myself will truly be a time to celebrate. Hugs winging back to you.
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Beautiful, Teagan! Don’t worry, and don’t hurry! Not every day can and will be like the last one. It would be boring. So we every day again have to take the challenge, brought to us. Best wishes, Michael
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Thanks for your encouraging words, Michael. Hugs from Crystal and me. Although at the moment she is spelling “hug” with all zzzzzzzz’s (snoring).
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Reblogged this on NEW BLOG HERE >> https:/BOOKS.ESLARN-NET.DE.
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You are so kind to share this, Michael. Many thanks. Stay safe and well.
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Enjoyed your hoodoo story! Looking forward to reading more of your work. Happy Thursday to you Teagan.
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Welcome, Denny! Thanks so much. Hugs on the wing!
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Hi Teagan, it is lovely to see a story from you. I really enjoyed this piece, a little different from your usual stories.
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Thanks very much, Robbie. I know you enjoy something a little dark, so I’m happy you liked this. Writing this did help me push through the block to work on Dead of Winter. Hugs on the wing.
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If the man don’t get you, sitting on that seat post certainly will 🙂 Great story using the photo as inspiration.
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Welcome, Janis! Haha, ain’t that the truth! Thanks so much for visiting. I’m happy you enjoyed the story. Hugs on the wing.
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Ooo, that sent chills up my spine! I can imagine a hoodoo riding a bike with no seat. Your imagination, girl!
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It’s good to see you, Marian. Thanks very much. LOL, there was just something evil about the thought of trying to ride that seatless bike!
Hugs on the wing!
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Oh wow, the hairs on the back of my neck were standing up! That was a cool story to go along with my images. How you can make stories up by just an image or thinking about a thing is amazing! Thank you so much for choosing my image, Teagan, the story is so good!
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You are so kind, Deborah. I blush.
I’m delighted that you enjoyed this story. Thanks again for letting me use all the photos. I hope your visit with loved-ones was wonderful. Hugs on the wing.
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🤗
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Oooo…that was really good!
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😀 I’m so happy you enjoyed it, Jennie. I think Gloria might like all the hoodoo. 😉 Hugs on the wing.
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Thanks, Teagan. Gloria is a shy scaredy cat. She might not like the hoodoo. Hugs! 😍
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Hoo doo? You do at Doors!
Great tale, Teagan, and the song is perfect!
Stop pressuring yourself!!!!
Your serial will be done when it’s done.
You may be blocking yourself, due to perceived pressure.
Perhaps you are overly focused.
It’s a good thing you wrote this post! {{hugs}}
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Thanks for your encouragement, Resa. I’m happy you enjoyed this little ditty. Hugs winging back to you.
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Teagan, another winner from your awesome imagination. A great story, chilling & compelling. Hope it was a kick-start to finish Dead of Winter. Hugs, my friend. 📚🎶 Christine
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Thanks so much, Christine. I’m still frustrated by my slow progress, but I think writing this really did help. It made me feel stronger. Hugs winging back to you.
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Teagan, glad that it renewed you. Your thinking probably needed a break on Dead of Winter. Now you can go back to it. I’m setting up my Three Years of Her Life book on Amazon tomorrow. But, expect 72 hours for the ebook to go live. And up to 7 days for the paperback. Amazon has to review all and it’s 458 pages. No fireworks celebration yet. 📚🎶 Christine
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Ah! I started to ask you about your book. Good luck with the upload. It can be problematic. So just remember that anything can be fixed or redone. And if necessary, the Kindle support helpdesk has been wonderful in my experience. In other words, pour a glass of wine and try not to let any part of it stress you. 🙂 Sometimes they are very quick to approve. Other times it has taken several days. There doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to that part. ❤
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Thanks, Teagan. I’m primed with all the possibilities that can happen with the set up. I’m just going to power through it and get help if and when needed. I remember your support through emails back in July 2021. Printed it out and kept it. Also Amazon has step by step instructions for ebook & paperback. I’m armed. And with cups of Mango & Peach Green tea literally at hand. 😊🎶🧡
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I ennoyed this, Teagan. So glad she listened and went inside.
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I’m happy to hear that, Denise. I hope all is well in your neck of the woods.
The gigantic fire in the northern part of the state is still spreading. However (knock on wood) I haven’t heard of any new ones down here where I am. Hugs on the wing.
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We got a bit of snow and cold so it put off the fire danger here for a small bit. Such a scary fire by you, Teagan especially in the spring. Glad to hear no new fires. I hope the rain makes it way to you for some relief, otherwise its going to be a long season. Sending rainy hugs
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Love your story, the bike, the woods and all the rest as the story progresses! A little scary, I am glad Cece was with you. Keep up the good stories, I really enjoyed the read! !
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It’s so good to see you, Ms. Frances. I hope your May is off to a beautiful start.
Hugs on the wing!
I’m happy you enjoyed this short story. Haha. Yes, I scared myself with it! Particularly since I was up past midnight writing it.
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Lookinh forward to more of your stories, very original and interesting! Take care!
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So atmospheric, Teagan – felt those chills on the nape of my own neck! Hope this gets those brain wheels churning. Hugs!
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LOL. I had my share of those while I was writing it at midnight! I’m glad you enjoyed it. Dead of Winter’s conclusion brings in action from so many sources… I’m having to be beyond focused to keep the reader from getting confused. But I got a good bit done this afternoon. Hopefully I can keep that up throughout the week. I hope… Hugs winging back to you.
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Cool combo Teagan!
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Many thanks, Fraggle. I’m happy you stopped to read and comment. Hugs on the wing!
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Nice pairing of the story to the song!
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Thanks, Jan. I always loved CCR. That particular song has such a hypnotic sound… it was in my head the entire time I wrote the story. Hugs on the wing!
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Oh my! What a great little story, Teagan. I totally loved it and hope it got your mojo working! 🙂
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Thanks so much, Jan. I figured any writing was better than none at all. I began to wonder if I could accomplish anything for Dead of Winter today, but I just finished an action sequence. It moves things along a little. I’m happy about that. Hugs on the wing!
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A fun story, Teagan. I hope it turns the spigot on your finale.
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I’m happy to know you liked it, John.
I began to wonder if I could accomplish anything for Dead of Winter today, but I just finished an action sequence. It moves things along a little. I’m happy about that. Hugs on the wing!
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😊
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Reblogged this on Just Olga and commented:
Teagan Geneviene shares a creative take on Dan Antion’s Thursday Doors Challenge. Quite chilling and terrifically atmospheric, so don’t miss it.
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Heartfelt thanks for reblogging, Olga — especially with this wonderful intro. Stay safe and well. ❤
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I can see why it made people think about the Delta Pearl. It is really atmospheric, and I also love the memory of her father and the music, which brings to my mind also Brother Love. Thanks for sharing your very creative detour, Deborah’s wonderful pics, and for reminding us of Dan’s challenge as well. Hoping the muses get in the right mood soon, all the stars line up, and the hoodoos stay in the backwoods. Big hugs, Teagan, and have a fruitful and peaceful week.
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Haha, I’m surprised that I managed to sleep after writing that, Olga, especially so late at night. I think I scared myself! Huge thanks for your encouraging words. Hugs on the wing.
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Hope so Teagan. Hugs on return wing.
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So many writing and related things I need and want to do. 🙂
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I love the song. I’ve always loved Creedence, but you brought the experience to life in a way the song never has. I, too, had a little flashback to the Delta Pearl, but maybe if she never got on board. In any case, it’s a great story.
Thanks for taking time to support the writing challenge. I know you are busy finishing your book series.
Hugs!
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Heartfelt thanks, Dan — and thanks for taking time to share this post. I had forgotten how you liked CCR when I wrote this. I always loved them. The intro to this song has the perfect, unsettling, almost hypnotic tone. It played in my head the whole time I was writing. Hugs on the wing.
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It played while I was reading it, too.
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Exactly, Dan. Thanks for finding the nuance I sensed but could not quite verbalize.
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🙂
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I loved the story, Teagan. Chilling with a strong sense of place. Loved it!
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Thanks so much, Priscilla. You made my Monday. I’m surprised I ever got to sleep — writing about hoodoos at midnight! Haha. Hugs on the wing!
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Really fun story, Teagan.
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Thanks, Tim. I’m trying so hard to find my balance. I appreciate your encouragement. Hugs on the wing.
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Life’s a real balancing act these days.
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Love the story. Reminded a little bit of the Pearl. Maybe the setting and the haunt.
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When a hoodoo got into the story, I did flash on the Delta Pearl for a second, but I wanted to keep it to a “modern” era… although I left exact decade to the reader’s imagination. I’m honored that you remember that story, Pat. Maybe next year I can “bookize” it. Thanks for reading and commenting. Hugs on the wing!
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