Prelude to a Sixteen-Yr-Old Lady's Story

Soldiers lay reclined at hospital beds

I've laid hiatus from my blog site moiling away on my novel, a memoir fused with fantasy-fiction.  I am nearly halfway through my second edit.  There will be third and fourth re-editing.  

Here is a preview of my novel, a prelude to a sixteen-year-old girl's story in which she witnesses a nurse toiling away at her job during Vietnam War.  She feels a deep connection to the nurse who also has deep empathy towards the scuffed soldiers.  The nurse remains aglow throughout the rocky hostilities but craves for the soothing arms of a man and his power to protect her amidst the chaos as her own safeguarding sentinel.  (Vince Vaughn in Indochine came to mind as the arms of a man a woman may wish to rest on.)

"The soldiers’ agonies trickle down seeping into your body.  The following items have been parched:  dribbled t-shirts, rustic chairs, and scraggly metal beds.  But you are a special case.  You float like dews of sunshine awakening lucid mornings thereby dripping leisurely onto stalks after last night’s showers.  Your serene halo relights tedious rooms in the midst of a protracted war.  I writhe in pain to the soldiers’ spoilage in the swollen room.  Your work cross across all borders parting two spreads —no wall subsists which acquiesces to spatial laws."

 

Calla Lilies

"Shut yourself dark in the black night. 

BOOOOMMM!!!  BRRRRRRRRRR!!! 

 

An astounding clash vellicates on the verge of the faithful hour —a shrill of a full thousand tigers’ uproars submerged in the African planes— a slamming thud reigns like a ceaseless storm. The rumpus palpitates throughout your villas and halls haunting the sights which splay the clash in the revisited nights.  Spine-tingling bang stalks throughout the room but I unearth a mere thud of the propellers.  A helicopter descends casting anchor on the outside pad bombarding army of men heaving the last breathless nighttide.  Oh my, how they rush in and make you run for cover!" 

Indochine  (Vince Vaughn)

"CLICK . . .  CLICK  . . . CLICK . . .  I hear his footsteps, do you?  A dark soldier treads dropping in a hue on an unglossy, grey canvas with a clear step.  Firstly, he is singularly crystalline to you.  His existence tempers the barren hues to a full, lively green by storm and his intensity as a tall, withy man inspires your womanly lust.  Secondly, his taciturn trait clinches your want for him.  The sun has tempered his skin to a dark, glowing flame.  The black paint marks on his toasted face underscores his sooty lines which boosts his wild nature that seethes inside him.  His broad shoulders and vivid clavicles underneath his V-neck shirt bare a rock-ribbed torso.  How those bold lines entice a woman’s want for a mate!  Next, his sharp-cut chest in his prime tends as an armor guarding a woman from staggering blitz.  His sinewy body shrieks the force of a savage animal spurting in the rousing forest.  His firm, brisk footsteps and linear, upright torso build himself out to be a stable boy or a man of toilsome stint.  He is a Black Panther that steps, scours, and spurts onto an artless animal in the furious wild.  Naturally, he darts throughout the scorching forest slaying out of drizzly swamps without a hitch."