Wyndi Storm Piestala in Prescott, Arizona, finally writes back to her friend, Louisiana Sandusky, in Tennessee, after Louie has emailed her.
Tuesday, June 8, 2005, 11:57 a.m., M.D.T.~
Dear Louie, my Native Sister~
O si yo, as you would say! How are you? I hope this finds you well!
I am not doing too well today, I am afraid. I am in much pain, and it is making me nauseated. I also have been worried about Mother; she seems to be feeling poorly, and she won't tell me a thing. I also worry about Karla, but at least she is now out of school; but I worry about her because she only wants to sleep, and she seems depressed somehow.
I also am hot; the weather is still unbearably hot here, and I guess I am not nearly as young as I used to be because I find the heat bothers me more now. Is it hot there in Tennessee? If not, could you please send us some cooler weather?? PLEASE??
Your children, Johnny, Ronee', and Jodie, all sound beautiful! But you must have a lot of love in your heart to take in kids who are handicapped! I don't think I could do that; it's enough just raising ONE child, and she has diabetes! She sometimes has "spells", where she doesn't eat enough, and it scares the living hell out of me because I don't know if she is going to black out. She also has problems if her blood sugar gets too high, and twice she has gone into unconsciousness; and we have had to call the ambulance on her. Ever since Karla first took sick, I have been on a constant state of alert, worrying over her!
I am trying my best to keep my mind occupied, and trying not to think of Keith's death; but each time I hear of Al Quaeda or Iraq or something, I worry, and I wonder if we are going to get attacked again. The day we were attacked on September 11, 2001, I was just waking up from a good night's rest when Mother woke me and told me to turn on the television, as there was an attack in New York, and the World Trade Center buildings were on fire. When I saw the horrible images unfolding before my very eyes, I was sickened; and now, because of this, I went to war, and now I am no longer myself. I am now crippled, and my husband is dead, thanks to those heartless bastards who call themselves "people", and I am sorry, but I just can't bring myself to forgive them!! Now the news sickens me, and I would just rather go about and not know a goddamn thing!
I am sorry this is short, but I am not in the best of ways, and I have only managed to upset myself again. Please keep me in your prayers; I wonder if the spirits are angry with me...Take care and write back soon! I really do look forward to your letters!
(((HUGS))) and love, your (hot) Native Sister in Arizona, Wyndi Storm Piestala. :(
Oh, Karen! I sure do hope these are fiction, although, being new to your stories at the moment, I am a little confused with the inclusion of Karla as a name! :)) Very personal, honest and heart-searingly real... you tell it like it is - even if it IS "only" fiction. I'm sure it is very close to the truth for someone... I love the fluidity of your writing. And the letter-form is a great way to keep to the short, on-going nature of serial short stories. You have a winning formula here! TY Kate xx
The drug called "The Shari" has been used for vision quests over many years. But, when all the rivers start drying up, the tribe must send a young hunter named Tomás on a much more important trip through the Amazon.
The drug called "The Shari" has been used for vision quests over many years. But, when all the rivers start drying up, the tribe must send a young hunter named Tomás on a much more important trip through the Amazon.
The drug called "The Shari" has been used for vision quests over many years. But, when all the rivers start drying up, the tribe must send a young hunter named Tomás on a much more important trip through the Amazon.
Tuesday, June 8, 2005, 11:57 a.m., M.D.T.~
