They come at me with needles and smiles, distorted faces too close, their eagerness to silence me terrifyingly insane. In the crazy cage one cannot decline such hospitality.
The serum, much more for sake of the others than for me, slows, but cannot stop this sweet truth-telling, reminiscing my pain. How’s that, I scream, for a shot of uncensored reality?
“Out, out, damn, wretched, cursed spot!” Altered voice reverberates, scratches its way out, out of black pit of me, stained with sin. Peering through square window I spy thick elevator doors, throw-up green, there, I am told, for our safety.
Wanting not to face glistening-eyed attendants wielding needles like toys, I swallow rainbow-colored liquids as I am told, shuffle as do the others (so as not to stand out). The secret they say is to play crazy mild with long, deliberate return to sanity.
This is not a drill. The attack on Pearl. They were the ghost planes of the night, deadly, illusive, sharp-clawed Black Cats. The Memoirs of ARM H.P. Lawrence, a Pearl Harbor survivor, Black Cat, and decorated war veteran.
A passionate and poignant memoir written by a woman whose life has been guided by the words: "I am here to learn how to love well." The book is a deep examination of relationships, family, motivation, and honoring of the Self.
(Richard M. Feldman) Ever since I was a young boy, the only thing I wanted to be was a cowboy. I wanted to own and work on a real ranch, with cattle and horses. Especially horses.
While I never became a cowboy, considering everything I have done
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