Lest We Forget - Part 2

PART TWO
Now that I've posted a factual account of what happened during our van-roll (Lest We Forget - Part 1), I'm moving on to a more journalish type of entry from start to finish. I have a lot of thoughts I need to get "on paper," so feel free to stop reading whenever you get bored. This is more for me than for you.

Crystal and I are usually always running late, mostly due to last minute diaper and clothing changes. Our house is ALWAYS on the go, to say the least, which makes it very difficult to maintain consistent schedules. Last month, we decided to up our game and ensure that every day, NO MATTER WHAT, we would have family and individual scripture study/prayers. We created a chart and, if we could complete it without skipping a day, established a fantabulous reward. We would travel to Salt Lake City for a little stay-cation at a hotel. Some of our fondest memories have been during these stay-cations, so we had strong motivation to finish the chart. It was very tough, but WE DID IT!

Despite our overwhelmingly busy lives, Crystal and I still scheduled our weekend at the hotel. We needed a break, and even more, we earned it. On Saturday morning, we filled our van with luggage, and shipped out. We had one more stop on the way to the hotel, though. Crystal and I were going to the temple. We had a lot to be grateful for, and attending the temple was the last empty square on our chart.

You can probably imagine my frustration when we rolled our van. After the chaos stopped and I verified my family was safe, I remember mentally pounding my fist on the dashboard and thinking, "You have GOT to be kidding me! We just finished this chart and were on the way to the TEMPLE, for crying out loud!" Once my senses returned, however, I realized that it was because we had finished our goal chart and were on the way to the temple that we were so miraculously protected. Even three weeks later, Crystal and I still have no idea what actually happened during the crash.

Now back up a little. As we drove from Tooele to the crash site, I was talking to my older sister, Angela, on the phone. I hung up with her only seconds before our van started sliding. I try not to imagine what she might have heard on the phone had I still been talking to her. I know that swearing would not be part of the sounds (I just don't do that), but that's the least of my concerns. Frantic cries, children screams, grunts, shouts, shattering windows, crunching fiberglass, folding metal, banging debris. When someone mentions PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder), most of us immediately think of soldiers, and rightly so. However, I can't help but think that our family is enduring a bit of PTSD ourselves. I attribute that mostly to the sounds, topped with our own wild imaginations of what could have happened.

During the crash, my family was protected and relatively uninjured, but not unharmed. I haven't had a solid night's sleep since the accident. On many occasions and without any instigation, I've felt an overwhelming need to cry. My wife... well, she probably wants to keep her own issues to herself, but she's struggling. She still panics every time we take the on-ramp from Tooele toward Salt Lake City. Our two oldest boys are lashing out, getting into more trouble and throwing tantrums for completely unnecessary reasons. Our two youngest boys cry and scream all day long, often without any motivation. Our youngest boy constantly wants to be held, has nearly lost his appetite, and won't let us out of his sight. If we disappear to another room, he chases after us. If we close a door between us, a full blown meltdown ensues. When we go for a drive, our van is deathly silent, broken sporadically with comments about our driving. "Good turn, Mommy." "I don't like it when you start driving that fast. The car makes too much noise." "That's a red light, so start slowing down now." "Now, Daddy, you need to be extra careful driving today because the ground is covered with snow and ice." Kids shouldn't have to worry about things like that.

Many people have asked what went through my mind as our van started rolling. I've joked around, often referencing Brian Regan's comedy routine about Evil Knievel (youtube link), but I did have a lot of thoughts run though my head. It's crazy how slowly time moves during a high-tension event. When our van started sliding, I remember placing my right hand on the dashboard and placing my left hand on my wife's shoulder to reassure her. I've been in quite a few fender benders, so a sliding car wasn't all that terrifying to me. However, once we started sliding off the road toward the steep embankment, very specific procedural items flooded my mind. I thought of my friend in 11th grade who had his arm busted in half by an airbag, so I pulled my hand away from the dashboard. I thought of my boating excursions as a teenager. My favorite activity was getting yanked around by the boat roped to my tube, and my favorite part of the activity was wiping out. The more violent, the better. Every time I flew off the tube, I had a list of action items. I would clench my teeth (so I didn't bite my tongue) and pull my head, arms, and legs in to form a partial fetal position (which seemed to help with the whiplash). These same thoughts ran through my head right before our van crashed, and they probably saved my life. Had I not tucked my head down, the crushed roof might have broken my neck. Right as the van started rolling, I even remember having the same exhilarating rush that I used to have while boating. I might have even grunted a challenging, "C'mon!" but I can't be sure.

During the rolling, I focused on keeping my head forward and arms tucked in. I didn't want one of them sticking out the window while the van rolled on my side. I had my eyes opened, but squinted, to protect them from shattering glass. I don't remember seeing a lot of ground as we rolled. Out my front window, I mostly saw the sky. There were many distinct bangs as we rolled, but I was too disoriented to notice where and how. Interestingly enough, not once during the accident was I ever concerned with my personal safety. I'd like to think I was comforted and knew I would be alright, but perhaps I was just too stupid to recognize our danger. After all, I was living a temporary teenage moment again.

After our van halted and I realized that we were on our wheels again, the first thing I noticed was the cold breeze coursing through our van. Windows had obviously broken, but mine were still intact. Next, I watched all of the cars surrounding us drive away. There were at least 5 other vehicles around us when we crashed, but not one of them stopped. I couldn't believe it. The more I think back about it, the more it pisses me off. Seriously. Anyway, a few more vehicles swerved out of the way, barely missing my side of the van as they continued on their way. I gave up looking for help and turned to my family. I put my left hand on my wife's shoulder and pulled her back against her seat, checking her for blood or injuries. Although she claims otherwise, I saw hysteria and panic in her eyes. She screamed a couple times as she looked past me at the cars dodging past our front end.

At that point, Crystal put the van in park and turned off the engine. We exchanged a worried glance, then turned back to our boys. All four of them were terrified and crying. I checked everyone for any signs of injury (there were none), but my eyes lingered on our 2nd son, Dawsen, who just turned 6 years old last week. He expresses his emotions very differently than his brothers. Rather than throwing outburst cry-fit tantrums, Dawsen is a lot more calculated. He contains his emotions, even when crying. A few weeks ago, Dawsen spilled boiling water on his hand while trying to make himself a Cup Noodles. Crystal heard a cry from the other room, then eerie silence. She called for Dawsen, but he wouldn't respond. She finally found him hiding behind a chair in our front room. His face contorted in agony as he cupped  his injured hand, but not a sound escaped his lips. The same thing was happening again. While Dawsen's brothers wailed, Dawsen locked eyes with me and pleaded silently for help with that same agonized expression. I asked him if he was alright, and that's finally when the tears started to flow. "When do we get to go home to bed, Daddy?" was the only thing he could get out between the hysterical hiccups. Like his mom, Dawsen loves his bed and finds great comfort in sleep. This was his way of saying he just wanted it all to end. I also remember Dallen, our oldest, crying that we weren't going to make it to the temple to finish our chart. He had been so proud of our family for our accomplishment. Lastly, much to my amazement, our one-year-old, Dax, still had his binkie in his mouth. I think that was our last binkie, so many of you parents can understand how much of a blessing it was that he still had it in his mouth. He cried for awhile, of course, but then the pacifier kicked in and did its trick. Just like Dawsen needed his bed, Dax needed his binkie.

Crystal was the first person to really digest our predicament. "Call 911!" she ordered me over the screaming. I moved to dig into my pocket, but I realized that I still had my cell phone gripped in my right hand. I thought nothing of it at the time, but we later realized what a huge blessing this was. Crystal's phone, which had been stashed in a net basket between our seats, was gone (it had flown out a window during the crash and I found it buried in the snow about 30 feet away). I called 911 and an ambulance and a firetruck arrived within 5 minutes. They had been parked at the nearby Flying J.

While I was on the phone with the 911 dispatcher, a man named Gerald knocked on my wife's window. Finally, someone had stopped. He first asked us if anyone was hurt, then, recognizing the dangerous location of our van, backed his half-ton pickup through the oncoming traffic to create a buffer between my side of the van and the approaching vehicles. No one hit his truck and he did nothing to help us besides offer his aid, but Gerald is a hero. Gerald is my hero. Take a lesson from Gerald and stop next time you see a car crash, regardless of how minor the accident is or how helpless you feel. Gerald stayed with us up until our ride arrived to take us home. We didn't need Gerald there, but we needed Gerald (if that makes any sense). Do a good turn. Be someone else's Gerald.

By the time the ambulance showed up, I was out scouring the road's shoulder for our ejected possessions. I often criticize myself for leaving my family buckled and abandoned in the van. My kids were bawling and terrified. Crystal was frantic. Why would I put our crap above their needs? My only explanation is that I was in what I call "zombie mode." Every morning, when my alarm goes off, I have to place myself in zombie mode or else I start thinking too much and convince myself to stay in bed. I just shut off my brain and go through my habitual motions. I think I did the same thing at the crash scene. I turned off my brain and went through the motions. Kids need medical attention? No. Stuff on the ground? Pick it up.

Anyway, I'm grateful to report that the EMTs took care of my children. They were leaning in windows, sharing treats, calming children, and hanging blankets over the windows to block out the blanketing snow. As I wandered around looking for our junk, I noticed Crystal standing far off, talking on my phone. She was in a thin dress without a coat, but seemed completely unaware of that fact as she relayed the news of our accident to our families. It was during this time that my parents hopped in their own two vehicles and started the long, slow trek through ugly weather to our house. Then Crystal called my second wave of heroes for the day, Jen and Jared. I consider them both friends, but we hadn't really spoken (besides the occasional howdy in a grocery store) for years. That fact didn't matter. Jared hurried out to his own van and CAREFULLY rushed to our aid.

In the meantime, I sat in a highway patrol car, offering scattered and confused details to the police officer about what happened during our crash, while my wife and four sons warmed up in the back of the ambulance. Again, no medical attention was necessary beyond a quick check of my oldest boy's bonk on his head. Luckily, the highway patrolman didn't give my wife a ticket, since we were driving at a reasonable speed and didn't cause any property damage to anything but our own vehicle. The whole situation was just bad luck, or maybe good luck. I've often wondered if God made that accident happen. If we hadn't crashed, what terrible tragedy awaited us on our way into Salt Lake City?

When Jared showed up with his van, my family piled in while Jared and I transferred my essential belongings. Because we were already on the on-ramp, the only way to get home was to continue onto the freeway, then turn around at Salt Air and come back home. That was a VERY long 20-mile drive. I sat in the back seat between my two oldest. They gripped my arms with trembling hands while our babies stared out their middle-seat windows with anxious bug eyes. I felt so vulnerable. We all did. When I get nervous, I talk a lot. Just ask my wife about the obnoxious and scatterbrained conversations I've had with pre-op nurses. Jared got an earful that day, which no doubt included many comments about how to drive. He kindly allowed me to talk it out without any rebuttals.

We made it home without further incident, then a half-hour later, my parents showed up. Third wave of heroes. They left their van for us, stayed for a couple hours to reassure and comfort us, argued that we should still go to the hotel, then went back home. Oh, and my dad and I went for a quick run to the grocery store to buy some comfort food. We tried to stop by the tow yard to take pictures of our van, but the yard was closed for the weekend. OH, and how could I forget that my mom spent an hour deep cleaning our house? Crystal utterly refuses that sort of help, but on that day, Crystal offered little resistance as she gratefully watched from the couch.

Crystal and I didn't even consider my parents' suggestion at first, but as the hours moved on and the sky/road cleared, we decided that a vacation had become more necessary than ever. We said an earnest prayer of thanks, then loaded my parents' van with our stuff and tried again. I drove this time, by Crystal's suggestion, because Dawsen had postulated something along the lines of, "Mommy, I'm never getting into a car with you again while you're driving." We knew the reservation would pass, but offered them a bit of comfort in the meantime. This was a huge sacrifice for Crystal, too. She suffers from severe passenger anxiety and has been driving our family around for the past 8 years.

On our way to the hotel, we drove VERY slowly past the crash site, partly to prevent another crash, and partly to try and examine the damage on the side of the hill. There was too much snow. We couldn't see anything. Once at the hotel with a hearty KFC dinner in our bellies, the six of us changed into our swimsuits and spent the rest of the evening at the hotel pool. Crystal's parents (heroes #4) drove to the hotel and visited with us while we swam and enjoyed a much needed soak in the hot tub. I say heroes #4 because they took care of our babies, who were still quite frazzled over the incident earlier that day. Dax usually loves to swim, but he treated the pool like a plague. When we got too close to the water, he'd bellow like someone was branding him with a hot iron. We eventually convinced him to get in the water, but only while clinging with white knuckles to his mommy. It didn't last long, either, and that's when Grandma Stanger showed up and intervened. Duncan, our two-year-old, lasted a bit longer, but he spent a good chunk of time on Grandpa Stanger's knee.

We waited a week for our insurance to process our claim and cut us a very considerate check for our totalled van. After a long and careful inspection of potential replacements (mostly done by Grandpa Stanger, our in-house vehicle expert), we finally purchased a replacement van a week ago. Things have seemed to calm down a lot since then. When my puppy died back when I was in 8th grade, the only action that eased my pain was to purchase a new puppy. Then my dead dog's toys and memories were replaced with the living dog. I expect much of the same has happened with our new van, replacing old memories with new. And me... well, I always love a new toy to play with.

I will end my dialogue here. I could keep going on forever with a daily play-by-play, but I think I've covered the necessities for my mental health. If you've made it this far and still have questions, please write them in the comments to this post and I'll respond with answers.

Lest We Forget - Part 1

PART ONE

On Saturday, February 9, 2013, my family and I were in a roll-over accident. Let me give you a couple of background points before I jump into the pics and videos.

• The six of us were traveling in our 2006 Dodge Grand Caravan at about 40-50 mph.
• My wife, Crystal, was driving and I was in the passenger seat. Our four sons, ages 1, 2, 5, & 7, filled up the seats behind us.
• We were on our way to a hotel in SLC for a weekend stay-cation, so naturally our van was packed full of hotel necessities.
• We also had a healthy quantity of recyclables in the van, which we had planned to drop off at my parents' house in West Jordan (since Tooele discontinued their recycling program). So, if our van looks like it was full of garbage, it's because it was.
• The weather was cold and snowing, but not so much that we felt uncomfortable traveling in it. We had been driving at relatively normals speeds the whole day.

Now, the basic details of what happened:

• When we entered the eastbound on-ramp of I-80 (in the left lane), our van began fishtailing to the right, so that the right side of our van was acting as the "front" of our vehicle. No amount of gas, brakes, or wheel maneuvering pulled us out. We were completely at the mercy of Nature.
• As we traveled down the road, our van continued twisting to the left. This was especially terrifying because looming over the left side of the road was a small hill, which shot out of the ground at a dangerously steep slope. Both Crystal and I knew that if we slammed into that hill with the side of our van, the result would be catastrophic.
• After about 5 seconds of "Oh, no!" the front passenger tire slipped onto the recessed shoulder. We never directly impacted the hill. We rolled up it. At least I think we did.

I originally thought I knew every detail of exactly how our van flipped along the hill and landed on all 4 tires again (facing the opposite direction), but after returning to the tow lot on Monday to examine the damage, I'm at a complete loss. The only thing I'm certain of now is that we achieved some serious hang-time, ricocheting off of random locations on all 6 sides of our van. My wife thinks we must have rolled completely over at least 2 times.

This picture shows the first impact point of our van. As you can see, our van "folded" over the edge of the road's shoulder. Our kindergartener, Dawsen, was in the middle-right seat. Remarkably, his only injuries were a few scratches on the left side of his face from flying debris. I suspect that this initial impact sent most of our stuff flying out the window. I'm also very surprised that the other two windows are still there. Unfortunately, this is the only shot I have of the front of the van. You can't see it because of the snow, but the front underside of the van is draping down in pieces. I've posted a short post-interview with Dawsen below:

This picture bewilders me. We obviously made solid impact above my wife's head, thus shattering the windshield and denting the frame above her door, but I'm at a loss regarding her side of the van. Her side-view mirror is missing and there are dents and scratches on her door, yet her window remains intact. I was also grateful that the sliding door window was unbroken, since our one-year-old, Dax, was sitting there. He was traumatized enough from the accident as it was. When we first entered the tow lot on Monday, Dax started trembling. The closer we got to the van, the more anxious he became. We had to keep a 5-foot buffer between him and the van because, if we got any closer, he'd start whimpering and crying. He remembers. He knows.

This picture shows Dallen (our 2nd grader) and Dawsen (our kindergartener). Dallen was sitting in the back left corner of the van, and sustained the worst injury of us all. You can see the dents on the frame between the 2 shattered windows, proving that this was another point of impact. When we hit that corner of the van, the left side of Dallen's head banged the steel seat belt loop. He now has a 4-inch goose egg above his left ear. All things considered, though, we'll gladly take that injury. This accident could have ended up so much worse.

This picture has an entertaining story to go along with it (you have to look for humor, even in trauma, right?). On the day of the accident, when our van stopped rolling and the screaming settled down, our 2-year-old, Duncan, started rattling off a hysterical account of his experience. He kept repeating the phrase, "We fell down in a circle," along with very specific details about applesauce. It wasn't until we returned to the van on Monday that we finally pieced this together. Right next to Duncan, still wedged between the window and the seat belt, was this 6-pack of applesauce. I imagine that during the accident, the applesauce was dancing in front of Duncan before catching in the seat belt. I'm glad he had a focal point, rather than watching the rest of his family whip around in front of him. We've tried to get Duncan to retell his story about the applesauce again (as you'll see in the interview below), but it was a one-time thing. The chocolate comments have since come to light, too, from our oldest son. Dallen said that one of the EMT's gave him a mini bar of chocolate, which he broke into pieces to share  with his brothers.

This picture shows Dallen's and Duncan's view from the back seat (the middle seats were moved down when the paramedics pulled everyone out of the van). This picture disturbs me for two reasons.

1. Crystal has always been terrified that, should she experience a plane crash, she would be in the very back and have to watch what happens to everybody else before the carnage reached her. On a less gruesome scale, I believe that my four boys will have to endure more emotional scarring than Crystal and I because of their view of the accident. That vision would burn in my mind for the rest of my life.
2. I didn't realize how close I came to a spinal injury. That dented roof combed my hair.

This picture doesn't look like much, except a bunch of recyclable garbage, but an important story goes along with it. Without a doubt, the worst part of the accident happened right after we stopped rolling. I glanced at Crystal to make sure she was alright, and she returned my stare with wide eyes. We both took a quick, frantic breath, then turned around to see the damage behind us. I've never been so terrified of seeing blood, broken limbs, motionless bodies, or the worst, missing people. Gratefully, all four boys were still safely bucked in their seatbelts/car seats, and screaming bloody murder. I've never been so happy to hear my kids cry.

These two pictures seem rather uninteresting, but they give a good perspective on the chaos which ensued during the crash. The rear view mirror moved halfway back the van, and all those white grocery bags full of recyclables were stashed behind the back seat. And, once again, there is the package of applesauce. A few white blankets were left in the van, too, which the paramedics had used to try and cover the windows. Personally, I didn't notice the cold very much. I had more important things on my mind. Good thing we have medical professionals to watch out for us.

(Stay tuned for Part 2, an emotional and detailed account of my entire experience from the day of the accident until now. I've been working on it for the past week, but it has been to emotionally overwhelming to attempt in such a short span of time. For now, at least you have the details of the accident.)

The Weresquirrel - Hold On To Your Nuts!

(From a news article, featuring a squirrel that got it's head stuck in a Halloween decoration. It's not a literal representation of The Weresquirrel, but an entertaining accessory to the story nonetheless.)

The Weresquirrel

(Hold On To Your Nuts)
Copyright 2012
By Terron James, Christina W. Cook, Krista Wayment, and J. A. Bennett

Abby shivered in her thin zip hoodie and snuggled closer to Christian. The sun had left a low orange smear across the western horizon and, with its descent, the warmth in the mountain air bled away.

Christian pressed his body against hers and leaned in for another kiss. Warm chills thrilled through her. A senior. She was totally making out with a senior. Her friends would die of jealousy. His rough five o’clock shadow grinded against her chin. Abby leaned back and curved her lips into a smile. So different from the scrawny geeks her age. Christian was no freshman. He was a man.

“Your nose is cold,” Christian said, looking down at her. The deepening shadows played across his face, carving out his strong cheekbones and hiding his eyes. “I’ll make a fire.”

“Thanks,” Abby replied with a shiver. “I was just about to ask.”

“My pleasure.” Christian kissed the tip of her nose, then jerked back, stood up, and wandered off with his lips pulled tight. A few steps later, he bent down to pick up a small log and spit on the ground.

What was that all about? Abby wondered, bringing the back of her hand against her face. A sticky fluid warmed her knuckles. She pulled her hand away and gawked at the clear snot glistening on her skin. Holy crap!

She glanced back up at Christian, mortified that he had tasted her drippy nose. The lingering orange glow from the sun had disappeared and Christian’s tall frame was barely visible. Fallen twigs and needles from the surrounding pine trees crackled under his feet as he wandered around searching the ground for kindling.

Abby breathed deeply, hoping their night wasn’t ruined. To distract herself, she unzipped her small, red backpack and dug inside for a snack.

“Christian,” she called, “have you seen my trail mix?” She fingered through the small pack—lip gloss, travel size body spray, gum, but no trail mix.

“Huh?” he replied, his footsteps a distant crackle.

“My trail mix. Did you take it?” The thought of Christian stealing her food bugged Abby. She had been counting on that trail mix to sustain her energy. Aside from the peanut M&Ms, the bag was packed full of assorted nuts. Cashews were definitely her favorite, but she had heard somewhere that almonds were the most filling, so she had thrown a handful of those in, too. Her mouth watered. He better have some food in his pack.

Amidst her brooding, Abby suddenly realized that Christian had not replied. She peered between the surrounding trees, but could no longer see him through the pale light. She looked up. The full moon glowed large and bright, but offered little comfort. An overwhelming sense of vulnerability filled her as she thought of being left alone in the woods.

Abby strained her eyes, hoping to see Christian on his way back. She ached for the comfort of a blazing fire and his strong, warm body.

A loud snap reached her ears, then a high pitched scream pierced the air. No, not a scream. More like a squeak. Abby’s breath caught in her throat and she jumped to her feet. The noise was followed by a stifling silence.

“Christian?” she called, trying to keep her voice steady. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was a baby. Still no response.

A cloud blanketed the moon, rendering her blind. Abby donned her backpack and thrust her hands out in front of herself, refusing to stand around and wait. She took a tentative step forward, then paused and listened. Nothing. She took another step, then another.

As quickly as it had appeared, the cloud moved away and moonlight poured back into the forest. A small creature stood hunched over at her feet. Abby recoiled with a start, but realized the rodent was just a squirrel. Its back was turned toward her as it gnawed on something and smacked its lips. It seemed completely unaware of her presence. Abby began to smile, oddly comforted by the small animal’s presence.

Then it turned to face her.

Abby’s smile froze on her face. Blood-red eyes caught her stare and pierced her soul. Two pointed teeth protruded from the front of its mouth like daggers. Moonlight glinted on those horrible teeth and Abby watched in stunned silence as they bit down on a long cylindrical object.

In one horrifying flash of understanding, Abby recognized Christian’s class ring still wrapped around his dismembered, half-eaten middle finger. A scream burst from her throat, tearing through the night.

The squirrel cocked its head and its round eyes blinked up at her. Abby knew the little beast was not afraid of her. In fact, it seemed to be sizing her up—maybe even planning its dessert.

Abby backed away. Toe. Heel. Toe. Heel. She wanted to run to the four-wheeler, but she was lost. All she could do was put more distance between herself and the little carnivore munching on Christian’s finger. Abby shuddered. Where was the rest of him?

The squirrel tipped its head to the other side as it watched her back away. Before she knew what was happening, Abby felt her shoe come down on a pinecone with a deafening crack. The squirrel twitched into a frenzy. After dropping Christian’s finger, it sprang forward. In two bounding leaps, it grabbed hold of Abby’s face.

“Ew, get off!” Abby shrieked, swatting at it with shaking hands.

Abby’s foot caught on something—an exposed root, maybe—as she scrambled about. She fell backward and crashed to the ground. The squirrel tumbled off of her, then Abby pushed herself up and fled.

“Find the trail. Find the trail. Find the trail…” she wheezed as she plunged blindly through the forest. Trees whipped her cheeks and tugged at her hood. While ducking under an oversized branch, Abby chanced a glance over her shoulder. A pair of red eyes bounced in the darkness as the horrifying little squeaker bounded after her. She tried to scream, but only a gasp escaped her burning lungs.

Abby burst from the trees into a narrow alley. At first she thought she had found the main road, but she realized that the overgrown path she stood on had not been used in decades. Desperation flooded over her. She wanted to sob.

While she deliberated on what to do, a chain of approaching squeaks and hisses echoed from the forest. A ball of fur landed on the crown of her head. Abby gripped the dirty little squirrel and hurled it as hard as she could into the woods. She wasn’t ready to die, least of all to that. Her friends would never let it go.

Abby’s feet took control. They turned left and sprinted along the moonlit road while she screamed for help.

For a passing moment, Abby acknowledged that the idea of running from a squirrel—fangs or not—was totally stupid, then blind panic overtook her again.

Up ahead, she saw the outline of a small building. A cabin, maybe, but it was too dark to tell. With renewed vigor, Abby called out and moved her legs as fast as they would carry her.

Four steps from the door, the squirrel tackled her from behind. Abby slammed into the forest floor and pine needles pricked her cheeks. How could something so small bring her down like that? Despite her backpack, it felt like she had been rammed by a train.

Just as Abby thought her life was over, the little fur ball was gone. After waiting a moment to see if it was some kind of a cruel trick, Abby forced herself to roll over and peek through her protective arms. Relief flooded her weary body.

“Christian!”

He stood a short distance away, under the shadow of a large oak. He lifted his foot and stomped down on a small, shifting shadow. The sickening crunch penetrated Abby’s ears and forced its way down to churn in her stomach.

She gulped. “Christian?”

He turned.

Abby’s breath caught. She couldn't move. Was this what shock felt like?

The first time Abby had seen Christian, his gray eyes had captivated her. Abby hadn’t been able to put her finger on what was so different about them, but they made her swoon. Rumor had it that he never asked anyone out, so when Christian invited her on a four-wheeling trip up the mountain, she had pounced at the chance without a second thought. She was going on a date with the hottest guy in school. She had even lied to her parents about staying at her best friend’s house for the night.

As she stared into Christian’s glowing indigo eyes, Abby wished she hadn’t lied to her mom. No one knew where she was, or the danger that threatened her. Christian was taking slow teetering steps toward her with an open mouth, slack and drooling. It was just like the movies. Unbelievably surreal.

Abby knew she should move, but she couldn’t—frozen by her date’s glowing eyes. Her lips trembled as Christian lurched closer. When he stepped out from under the tree and moonlight flooded over him, everything changed. He looked just as he always had—gorgeous, smooth skin, dark hair, and gray unglowing eyes.

She exhaled. I’m such a dork! Her brain had been playing tricks on her. It had to be from her low blood sugar. If only she had eaten that trail mix. She looked Christian up and down, and her eyes rested on his outstretched hand.

One finger was missing.

“Take my hand,” he said.

“Are you nuts?” Abby slid back against the building. “Stay away from me, you inverted werewolf zombie freak!”

Christian dropped his hand. “Not bad,” he said with a slight nod, “but you forgot one very important part. Can you hear that sound?”

Abby kept her eyes locked on Christian, but strained her ears. Nothing. Only silence. “What you talking about, psycho?”

With an eerie chuckle, Christian sneered. Elongated incisors appeared from behind his upper lip. “The hypnotic rhythm of blood pumping through your veins. What am I,  you ask? A one-of-a-kind hybrid dead set on enjoying his meal tonight.”

Ignoring Christian’s advancing step, Abby hurried into another question. “So you’re a vampire, too, huh? Why aren’t you sparkling?”

He rolled his eyes and took another step forward.

“Did that squirrel do this to you?” Abby asked in desperation.

Christian paused. “Hardly. Believe it or not, that varmint was trying to save your life.” He lifted up his mangled hand. “I used to have a magic ring that made me look normal to mortals, but I seem to have misplaced it.” His sarcasm oozed off his thick tongue. “Now I’m back to my good ol’ self. When I’m not lit under direct sun or moonlight, my true form shows.”

Christian sidestepped under the dense branches of the oak tree. A hump bulged out of his back as he slouched forward and gawked at her with a tilted head. “You like?” he slobbered through a waterfall of drool.

“Gross,” Abby replied. She wanted to run as far away as possible, but couldn’t move no matter how hard she tried. It was like Christian held her captive, compelling her to stay with his glowing indigo eyes.

“No biggie,” Christian said with a shrug. “Won’t matter much in a minute anyway.”

He made an ungainly advance toward her while staying in shadows and holding Abby’s gaze. She was helpless. Her mind reeled as she reflected on the previous fifteen years of her life. So much time wasted. So much left to do. Now it was too late. She’d never see another sunrise.

When Christian was just a few steps away from Abby, another chilling crack filled the silence. Her salivating adversary gaped over his shoulder and his eyes grew wide. Abby followed his gaze. Another loud pop. Movement disturbed the shadows. Was the poor squirrel Christian had stomped to death coming back to life? Abby squinted. Yes, yes it was.

She turned back to Christian and smirked. “You better run, hybrid. That squirrel’s hip bone just reconnected to its thigh bone. Won’t be long now before it makes you dinner.”

Christian spun on his heel and fled as quick as a zombie, a limp arm dangling at his side and one leg dragging behind. Abby couldn’t help but think of her younger brother’s annoying martial arts videos as she watched the slow motion battle between hybrid and weresquirrel—one trying to escape while the other popped back into shape. She knew that if Christian reached the moonlight, he’d be out of her life forever. She’d look like a total loser.

Abby chased after Christian, throwing rocks and poking him with a long stick, all the while keeping a safe distance between them. She knew all about the unmatched strength of a zombie… vampire… werewolf… thingy. Yeah, well, at least she had a good hunch.

“Stop it!” Christian whined as he stumbled to the ground for the ump-teenth time. “Cut it out, will ya?”

A tiny shadow fell upon Christian’s prostrate body. With razor sharp claws, the squirrel ripped Christian’s heart from his chest, smashed it to the ground like a football, then leaped high into the air and stomped it repeatedly into the loose soil until the heart stopped beating.

Abby collapsed to her knees and gazed upon her knight in shining fur. With a brief twitch of its left eyelid, the squirrel dropped to its fours and skittered across the clearing to Abby’s knee.

“Look at that,” Abby said as she scooped up her furry friend and kissed it on its nose. “You’ve made a terrible mess of your claws.” She stroked its fur, caressing its spine with her fingertips.

The squirrel gazed up at Abby through its long eyelashes. Abby returned its red-eyed stare and breathed in the sweet aroma of pine nuts and cashews that fluttered from the squirrel’s snout.

She planted a more affectionate kiss on its nose. Moist, but definitely not drippy. Things were already way better than her previous date. “Got any plans for the rest of your life, Bucky?” she asked with a sigh. Abby had never fallen so hard for anyone before. She was in love with him, even though he was a weresquirrel. It was irrevocable. Her heart nearly leaped from her chest as she dreamed of their life together.

The squirrel sprang to the ground and pointed into the thick of the forest.

“What is it, Bucky?” Abby asked, rising to her feet.

Bucky took Abby by her shoelace and, with a gentleman’s care, led her forward. She didn’t ask where they were going. She didn’t care anymore. As long as they were together, that’s all that mattered.

Time ceased to exist as they strolled through the clouds. Days could have passed without Abby’s knowledge, but they traveled only fifty yards before they reached the clearing. Abby blinked at a roaring bonfire surrounded by hundreds of weresquirrels. They were all dancing together as they squeaked and squawked a harmonic chant.

“You brought me to your pack family?” Tears filled Abby’s eyes. She had been wanting to take their relationship to the next level, but wasn’t sure how Bucky felt in return. Relief flooded over her. Their relationship was moving fast, but it felt so right. She knew he was the one. Nothing would ever come between them.

Bucky led her across the clearing and stood her in front of a fallen tree that had been fashioned into a throne.

“Did you gnaw this just for me?” Abby asked as she lowered herself onto the seat.

Bucky’s nose twitched.

“How thoughtful.” Abby’s cheeks flushed as her hand methodically traced the chewed grains of her pine chair. “So now what?”

Bucky bounded up the fallen trunk and placed a crown of acorns on Abby’s head. The weresquirrel pack moved their celebration in front of her. Out of their midst flew a bag of trail mix, which landed directly on her lap.

Abby smiled as she reached into the bag and popped a couple almonds into her mouth. “Mmm,” she moaned. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

The Iceberg Effect

I've often heard people say that novels are like icebergs. Readers only see 10% of what actually exists in the author's mind. This is an essential truth, especially for myself, in an entertaining, creepy, obsessive sort of way.

While writing Insight, the first book in Beholders, I was working at a civil engineering firm. My responsibility (among many other tedious details) was to research and write legal documents for DOT property acquisitions. Basically, when the state decided to build a road, I figured out who owned the property and how much land the state needed to buy from them. So, as you can imagine, when I started creating the world of Appernysia, I found myself stepping into 2 real problems.

First, because of my background with legal ramifications, I had a natural tendency to over-explain landscapes and architecture. I wanted to make ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN that the reader knew EXACTLY how my world looked. I couldn't fathom the thought of people misinterpreting my descriptions. Second, because I had developed such an astute appreciation for detailed and perfectly accurate architectural and engineering plans, I thought everyone felt the same way.

I was WAY off!

To fully understand my point, you have to fully understand what went into the creation of Appernysia. I have piles of self-created maps, cross-section schematics (for those who even know what cross-section schematics are) of trees, walls, corridors, weapons, bridges, rivers, etc. I even took the time to create one of my main cities, Itorea, in Minecraft. All these creations, in most cases, are an excellent waste of time for authors, although they do help us imagine our worlds more clearly. The point is, 99% of readers do not care if the stone bridge connecting a scout tower to a curtain wall is 8.5 feet long. Too detailed. Too tedious.

Simply put, authors should trust their readers intuitions, and allow their readers the active use of their imaginations. Don't stifle their creative sides with yours. Isn't that why books are always better than movies? As readers, we can put our individually perfect faces on the characters, rather than having a director shove their interpretations down our throats. This is especially enjoyable with those characters we love to hate, like Braedr Pulchria.

Sick 'n' Lovin' It!

I've had a thought on my mind for quite some time, but just now found a few minutes to put it into words.

I LOVE MY JOB!!

There, I said it!

Seriously, though, I never believed I could be such a hard-working employee. I thought I've seen busy before, but nothing like what I've been doing at Excelsior Academy.

I think back to times at my engineering office where I was working late nights, spending upwards of 80 hours per week to meet my employer's demands. It was all-around agonizing work. I suffered from exhaustion, malnutrition, and terrible hygiene (yeah, I know, gross, but deal with it).

Guess what? Now I work 120 hours per week, make half as much as I used to, and LOVE, LOVE, LOVE IT! No need for employer threats and consequences to hang over my head, either. I'm doing all of it for my students, all 130 of them. I care for my 7th and 8th graders more than I could have imagined.

This past week has been especially eye-opening. I've pushed through some terrible trials to show up AND perform my job, trials that you never would have seen me overcome before becoming a teacher. It's all about these kids!

The New, Old Me!

Dear committed fans, casual readers, and random bystanders,

I know my lack of networking lately has been dismal at best. I am feeling extremely handicapped by my stupid shoulder. Although this may not be readily apparent in my social networking, this shoulder and teaching business has made me quite grumpy about my lack of networking. I already felt like I was barely keeping my head above water when I was a fully functional teacher, but now it has become ridiculous.

Good news is, I've learned a lot about what I can and should cut out of my teaching life. As much as it rips my heart out and grinds it on the asphalt, I just don't have the time to be the kind of teacher I want to be this year. I've been telling myself since July something along the lines of "I just need to wait until (insert lame excuse here) is over, then I'll be able to jump back in." That time is never gonna just happen, especially since I have to go back to school this spring to finalize my teaching certificate. I'm going to have to make some compromises all around so that I don't neglect my authorian necessities and obligations. I have been seriously neglecting my writing craft, and that terrifies me.

Wednesday, I am meeting with my doctor to see if it's time to take off the sling. PRAY TO ALL DEITIES THAT IT IS! I won't be able to use my shoulder fully for another 5 months, but I can FINALLY start working toward something! No more being trapped! Hrm... trapped is a great word to define the past month, like a dog leashed to the bumper of a car cruising down the freeway, totally at the mercy of everything around me and danger lurking around every bend. Anyway, once the sling comes off, I'll be able to start using my right arm in whatever capacity my right shoulder will allow. No more one-handed typing. HUZZAH!

I've been thinking back to the two years it took me to write the rough draft of my book, Insight (release date - June 1, 2013). Up at 4:45 AM, hour bus ride to SLC, write until 7 AM, work until 4 PM, school until 7 PM, hour bus ride home, and homework until midnight. Rinse, spin, repeat. I did this before for two consistent years. I can do it again! I WILL start doing it again! Expect to start seeing daily facebook and twitter posts. Expect to see weekly blog posts. Expect to see new writing creations. Expect to see a new and improved Terron, because I'm coming back, baby! *fist pump*

Yours Truly,

Author Terron James, Extraordinaire