Sherry Morris's Blog, page 2

Serial Fiction: Mistake 22

Click here to read this serial from the beginning
~*~I nervously said goodbye to the fight attendant and pilot. As I stepped off the plane and made my way through the thingy that attaches to the terminal, I steeled myself. The last time I arrived at Dulles, I was arrested for burning down Little Mount Vernon. No arrogant police officers were waiting to take me in. I strolled into the airport Scott-free.“Come on, Oh-Donna. Let’s get your lap dog and get to your place.” Perry barked.
~*~
Visit here again for a new installment or purchase the complete taleKindle: US  Canada  UK  Australia  Germany  Netherlands  France  Italy  Japan  India  Spain  Brazil  MexicoPaperback:  Amazon  Barnes & Noble  Createspace

Serial Fiction: Mistake 21

Click here to read this serial from the beginning
~*~We flew home on a smaller jet. There were only two seats on each side of an aisle that I swear was twelve inches wide. The ceiling height was absolutely claustrophobic. I wasn’t afflicted with that malady, thank goodness. Perry was bent in half and cursing as he approached his seat. I looked forward to reading Mike’s novel. Perry and Tammy were seated way in the front. Business class. Ha. I jumped up and moved down the aisle so a very tall red headed woman (or was it a man in drag?) could get to her window seat. She thanked me and we strapped in. Scott, the flight attendant asked us, “Are you willing and able to help evacuate the plane in case of emergency?” We watched as he motioned to the emergency exit door next to the redhead. “Yes.” we said in unison. I squinted past her and tried to figure out the diagram for door removal. I asked red, “How are we supposed to pull the door into us in this tiny space?”She studied it and said, “Oh, we pull it in and then throw it out.” “Okay.” I peeled the foil and paper from my half roll of Cinnamon Mentos. I offered her one. She accepted. “Thanks.”I felt warm and fuzzy because a stranger accepted candy from me. She trusted it wasn’t poisoned. I wonder if my own siblings would trust me. Never mind, Perry would eat anything.”She said, “This is my first flight since nine-eleven. I was there. Four blocks away.”Okay, so I scooted my purse farther under the seat in front of me. I wasn’t going to get to read. But I did have what appeared to be a nice lady who was interested in conversing with brain damaged Donna. I wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip away.I listened and reassured her and asked questions. People like to talk about themselves. It’s a universal thing. If you can speak the language, or better yet, listen to the language, then you have a friend for a moment. As lonely as my life has been lately, a moment is something I’ll treasure.Her name was Louise and she told me what it was like watching out her office window. The blackness. Then the second tower fell. They made their way to the lobby and then hurried from building to building, making their way to the water to escape to New Jersey.She said when they came back a week later, the sight was surreal. She has a photo journal she kept, as they were bussed to their building each day. She said they could tell when the rescuers came upon a large mass of bodies. A distinctive odor of death.
~*~
Visit here again for a new installment or purchase the complete taleKindle: US  Canada  UK  Australia  Germany  Netherlands  France  Italy  Japan  India  Spain  Brazil  MexicoPaperback:  Amazon  Barnes & Noble  Createspace

Serial Fiction: Mistake 20

Click here to read this serial from the beginning
As soon as the valet lifted me into the backseat of the Chrysler convertible, I smiled. I had two dollars ready and pressed them into his hand. “Gracias.”“De nada,” he replied and slipped the bills in his pocket. I just love the Latin accents down in south Florida. Northern Virginia is home to a huge population of them too. My high school Spanish gets me by.As we waited at the stop light at the hotel exit, I turned, while petting Norma Jean. “Good-bye wheelchair.” At least that charade was over. I felt like such a fraud. Ashamed. So many wonderful people were imprisoned in wheelchairs for real. In my case, this sham was only necessary to keep Norma Jean safe with me. But still, I felt guilty. An ominous vibe shuddered down my spine. I hate premonitions.
~*~
Visit here again for a new installment or purchase the complete taleKindle: US  Canada  UK  Australia  Germany  Netherlands  France  Italy  Japan  India  Spain  Brazil  MexicoPaperback:  Amazon  Barnes & Noble  Createspace

Serial Fiction: Mistake 19

Click here to read this serial from the beginning
~*~I reluctantly opened my eyes to see my sister dressed in a pink silk pants suit, tailored to show off her perfectly altered boobs. “Whaddaya want?” I groaned.“It’s time to check out. We’ve got to drive up to Fort Lauderdale, return the rental car, drop the dog at the pet receiving place and get through security. Are you gonna take a shower or what? You look like crap.”I stood up and shuffled out of the closet. Perry was noshing on croissants and bacon. He said, “Jeeze you look like shit Oh-Donna. Poof your hair or something.”“Good morning to you to, Cary Grant.”He grinned and shifted to release a noxious cloud.Tammy squealed, “Eww Perry. Stop that!”He laughed and clicked the remote.I grabbed the handle on my duffle bag and rolled it into the steamed up bathroom. I untangled my purse straps from the suitcase handle. I unzipped it and stuffed my hand inside. Good, the manuscript was still there. I locked the door and undressed. The hot shower pelted my shoulders. Felt great. Oh-no! Norma Jean needs to be walked! I stumbled onto the soaked bath mat and stuck my head out the door. “Perry, please take Norma Jean for a walk. She needs to do number one and number two.”Tammy yelled, “Hurry up in there Oh-Donna.”“Perry, please?”“Not a problem. I’ll grab some doughnuts on the way.”Shivering, I stepped back under the hot spray. It’s funny. Perry and Tammy have no feelings for other people, if there isn’t something in it for them. But for some reason, they are kind to my dog. It’s weird, because we didn’t have any pets when we were growing up.
~*~
Visit here again for a new installment or purchase the complete taleKindle: US  Canada  UK  Australia  Germany  Netherlands  France  Italy  Japan  India  Spain  Brazil  MexicoPaperback:  Amazon  Barnes & Noble  Createspace

Serial Fiction: Mistake 18

Click here to read this serial from the beginning
Chapter Five
Dream Weaver~♥~It was just like trying to walk down a steep mountain. Impossible. The forward momentum forced me to run or tumble. I chose to run. Especially since I’d spent so much time in a wheelchair the past two days. I needed to run. Needed to feel my legs work. Fell the blessing of walking. Running. The wind in my hair was warm and soothing. The bubble gum colored swirls dimmed into starlight as the terrain leveled off. My feet were thudding down onto wooden planks. I could see trees. And the lookout tower. I enjoyed a huge sense of peace, understanding that I was in my happily ever after again. Finally. On Make Believe Island, where the future is much better than the past. And there he was. The tall, blond bearded man grinned. He alluringly beckoned me with one long strong finger. In his low English intonation, he invited me. “Hey you, step back in to our dream.” I marched over to him. He grabbed my waist and swung me around as we kissed. Oh what a kiss. I just loved the way his soft whiskers tickled/abraded my skin. And the length of his tongue. Wow. This guy was the best kisser ever.He set me down. “Well, Cinderella, how’d it go?”“Momma and Mike died.”“I’m sorry love.” He hugged me tightly. “How did the reunion with your brother and sister turn out?”“Horrible. As usual. Why would it be any different?”“Oh people can change love, given the right incentive and twists of fate. I’m sorry it hasn’t happened for those two yet.”“So am I back now?” Please say yes.“For now, yes.”“Do you mean I don’t ever get to stay?” My voice trailed into a whine. “That week we had together was so so so sublime. I thought it was forever.” I searched his big brown eyes, with long thick lashes.“I’ll promise you paradise love. But paradise comes in its own divine time. It’s not for us to decide when we want it.”I sighed with resignation. “So, in other words, I’ve still got work to do in the mortal world. Things to discover. Clues to assemble and deeds to make right before I get to my happily ever after?”“Yep.” He smiled and touched my nose. I felt engulfed in serenity as my dream lover took my hand and we strolled off the weathered dock, onto the moonlit beach. I enjoyed the waves lapping the hem of my white gauze dress. I hiked it up. Much more appropriate for the tropics than the synthetic mourning suit I traipsed around in earlier in my waking world.“Ashley, so what else is there I need to do? I’ve already solved my father’s murder. Doctor Payne’s. Momma died, so she doesn’t need me to take care of her. And her friend, Mike— by the way, she told me he was my real father. Isn’t that romantic? And so wrong? I’m really mad she kept him a secret my whole life. I had to live as that pathological lying sociopath’s kid for thirty-nine years! Mister Puppet Master. He manipulated my reality. I have no idea if my whole life was a complete illusion. Did I just go through the motions in smoke and mirrors? “Ashley squeezed my hand. “He loved you very much.”“I know that. Everything he did, he did because he thought it was the best thing for me. All of us. But for his own bizarre twisted reasons that I’ll never understand. And now he’s gone. I always had thought he’d outlive me, just so I’d have a completely sucky life. Do you know how much it hurt when friends would tell me how much they looked forward to seeing their relatives, going to the beach on vacation with them and how wonderful their visits were?” I noticed the red lights of a tanker ship anchored well offshore for the night. Ashley pointed to the sky. “Look at the rings around the moon, Love.”I glanced up at the orange and yellow halos. “I’d smile and nod, but actually had no idea how they could possibly look forward to that. I dreaded seeing my relatives. I always came away insulted, dejected and with my gut twisted into a knot of woe.”“Cinderella, that’s enough. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Move on.”“I can’t believe you said that to me. Momma always told me to stop feeling sorry for myself. And now you too.” He’s supposed to love me no matter what. Why can’t I feel sorry for myself once in awhile?“Don’t waste time on that sweetheart. Nobody can make you feel trivial, unless you allow them too. And most of those people are gone now.”“You’re right. I’ve just got Tammy and Perry left now.”We slinked around Mike’s bungalow and peeked in the back window. By the glow of a kerosene lamp, I spotted a partially eaten wedding cake. And a marriage certificate.“So Momma and Mike were married. What, was she a bigamist?” My stomach churned.We plodded to the front of the house and observed them sitting on the porch. A young Mike and Chloe. My dream weaver whispered, “Listen.”Momma Chloe said, “One week into our honeymoon and you have to run off to Mexico City for your next assignment. And I have to take a crash course in nursing for my next deep undercover job. Whey did we ever think two secret service agents could marry and live happily every after?”Oh no. Damn it. I hear the Donna song. They’re pulling me back again. I tried to tippy-toe up to kiss Ashley, but the music got louder and the stars swirled. I heard Norma Jean smacking her lips. And Tammy saying, “Wake up Oh-Donna. Oh-Donna. Wake up.”
~*~
Visit here again for a new installment or purchase the complete taleiBooks  Kobo  NOOKKindle: US  Canada  UK  Australia  Germany  Netherlands  France  Italy  Japan  India  Spain  Brazil  Mexico
Paperback:  Amazon  Barnes & Noble  Createspace

Serial Fiction: Mistake 17

Click here to read this serial from the beginning
~*~As soon as Tammy closed the door to our handicapped accessible room, I leapt out of the wheelchair, clutching my purse and plopped down on the double bed closest the window wall. I hugged the bag to my chest. My heart. Mike’s manuscript. I had to make it work. I must figure out the changes his editor wanted and get it sold. As one dejected, rejected writer to another, I had to do this for him. So that his life’s labor wasn’t for naught. Perry switched on the T.V. and assumed the position, propped on the other bed, with both pillows behind his bald head.Tammy carried her pretty little designer suitcase into the bathroom. She soon emerged dressed in cerulean spandex as she pulled her hair into a ponytail. “I’ll be down at the gym. You guys wanna join me?”Wow, Tammy was actually inviting us? I’d love to work out with my sister. Bond with her while sweating on the treadmill. Hmm...I didn’t pack anything but dress clothes, since we came for Momma. For Momma’s funeral. I fought the tears welling again. Perry grunted, “It’s not my thing.” he flipped through network news, “Leave It To Beaver”, “Sponge Bob Square Pants”, the latest Avril Lavigne music video, then settled on “Judge Judy”. “Oh-Donna you go. It’ll be good for you.”“I can’t go, because I’m supposed to be disabled.” Tammy said, “I’m a certified physical therapist Donna. I can show you some upper body exercises, tone your floppy arms up for ya.”She just had to insult me. I glared at her and then fetched Norma Jean’s chrome dishes from my pink rolling duffle bag. I poured kibbles from a zip locked bag and served her fresh water from the bathroom. I set both bowls in the huge walk-in closet. I squatted on the floor and patted her back as she gulped. Maybe I can get a rollaway bed and set it up in here. The other two would love that. Keeping Oh-Donna stashed in the closet. But wait. The big walk-in closet under the stairs at Little Mount Vernon, my parent’s house, is where I had my first special dream. There was music playing. I remember, I was pulled into the dream by Mr. Ashley Jones. Umm...yum. Ashley. My debonair dream weaver.
I could hear a melody faintly emanating from the guest room next door. Country music. “Islands in the Stream”. I felt dizzy. I laid down on my back. Norma Jean licked my hand. The closet swirled. Phone books, an ironing board and hangers danced around me. I experienced forward propulsion into the beautiful raspberry and turquoise swirls.
Visit here again for a new installment or purchase the complete taleKindle: US  Canada  UK  Australia  Germany  Netherlands  France  Italy  Japan  India  Spain  Brazil  MexicoPaperback:  Amazon  Barnes & Noble  Createspace

Serial Fiction: Mistake 16

Click here to read this serial from the beginning
The valet pushed my wheelchair up the ramp and into the lobby of the Fontainebleau Hotel. I fumbled in my purse, trying to extract my wallet, which was lodged under the thick manuscript. The valet was summoned by the bell captain before I reached it. I sighed. I contorted and slung my purse back over the corner of this miserable torture device and hung it on the back of the chair. I grabbed the metal bars and rolled myself up the incline between the main lobby in front of the Rat Pack bar, past the car rental desk and up to the check-in area. Perry and Tammy had already beckoned the security guy who was so nice to us before. They’d filled Mr. Rollins in on Mike’s unexpected death.Fred Rollins said, “This is horrific. But romantic. Mike died digging the grave for his true love.”Perry quipped, “Oh, yes, of course. Something like out of romance novel.”The security guy asked,” Must’ve been an open and shut thing. The police didn’t question you long?”“We didn’t wait on the police. We—um—needed to get our sister back as soon as possible. She’s not well.” Mr. Rollins studied me. I coughed. Don’t know why, I just thought I should for effect. “Do you need me to have the house doctor look in on her?”Perry said, “No, no. We just need to tuck her in. She’ll be fine.”“All right. I’ll pass the word along to the other employees. The old boy sure will be missed. He was here on opening day, you know?”Perry whirled my chair around. I pulled some unthought-of muscles in my side, flailing for my purse. I hugged it to my chest. My heart. We were squeezed onboard the elevator in record time.When the room service guy wheeled his cart off on the second floor and the doors closed, Tammy asked, “So can we go home now? We don’t need to stay overnight, right? Maybe we can—” She let out a high pitched moan. “The dog. We can’t just hop the next plane to Dulles. Sheesh Oh-Donna. I have to find another flight that will accommodate Scooby Doo-ette.” The dog began nuzzling my sister. She petted her. “I’ll get you home safely girl. Don’t you worry sweetie. Maybe I can fly out earlier, after I arrange things for you and Oh-Donna.”Perry said, “We have to claim Chloe’s remains and procure the death certificate in order to liquidate her estate.I accused, “You didn’t love her one little bit, did you? That woman worked hard at building a second career after she retired from the secret service. She worked sixteen hour days on her feet as an R.N. to see you through law school and to pay for Tammy’s make-up artist academy and then for her personal trainer training.”My siblings rolled their eyes at me.
~*~
Visit tomorrow for a new installmentorPurchase the complete tale
iBooks  Kobo  NOOKKindle: US  Canada  UK  Australia  Germany  Netherlands  France  Italy  Japan  India  Spain  Brazil  Mexico
Paperback:  Amazon  Barnes & Noble  Createspace

Serial Fiction: Mistake 15

Click here to read this serial from the beginning
~*~My beautiful nature moment was broken by a ten second odoriferous rip emanating from my brother. Tammy squealed, “Perry, eww!”I said, “I’m perfectly capable of burning the trash. Go away. Wait on the porch or the dock for the boat.”Perry said, “We’re here to make sure you don’t burn the house down this time.”I inhaled, as anger seethed. “Perry Lucifer Payne, I did not burn down Little Mount Vernon and you know that.”He laughed nastily. They followed me to a clearing, in sight of the graves. Here come my tears again.Tammy screamed, “Eww! I smell him. The Mike guy! Eww! Oh-Donna, bury him or something.” She charged past me and I almost sensed the island shaking as Perry tried to keep up with her. I guess it was a macabre scene. To me it was just so sad. Tragic and romantic. Mike died digging the grave of the woman he loved. My momma.I watched my siblings until they disappeared behind the old forest fire watch tower in the middle of the island. Great. They’re running the wrong way. They’ll get lost for sure and I’ll have to find them and lead them to the dock.When the surrealness of the moment wore off, I found myself belatedly sharing their response to the graveyard— knowing Mike’s corpse was in the open pit gave me the creeps too. I shuddered before I spun on my heels and dashed down a well worn path which looked as if it had been recently cleared by a machete. Norma Jean galloped ahead and danced around charred cans. I set my purse down, in a thicket of greenery which I hoped wasn’t poison anything and dumped the trash into the center of a ring of rocks. I struck the match. Sulfur ran up my nostrils. I lit a couple of my used tissues and a German chocolate cake mix box. I watched as the wind enabled a nice conflagration, even if it was of short duration. When the fire died down to just a few thin gray ashes with orange embers, I scooped some sand on it, picked up my purse and trudged back to the house.Squinting, I placed my hand over my eyes and peered at a boat in the distance. I turned toward the turquoise bungalow. “Goodbye Momma. Goodbye Mike. God speed you to your next incarnations. I love you.” I retrieved my panty hose and shoes from the porch and footed my way down to the shoreline. The cold water made me shiver at first, but somehow it soothed me as I strolled calf deep in the ocean spray. I plopped down on the dock, waiting for the captain. “Oh shoot” I hope they aren’t using binoculars! I’m supposed to be paralyzed. Shoot shoot shot. What If I’ve blown our cover, Norma Jean?”Perry and Tammy arrived. Perry huffing, Tammy the picture of physically fit beauty. I jealously snorted. Knowing I’d never have her taught sculpted upper arms and back.“What took you so long?” I asked.Tammy said, “We found another—” Perry cut her off. “We found a path and circled the island.” The drone of the boat’s motor approached.
~*~
Visit here again for a new installment or purchase the complete taleKindle: US  Canada  UK  Australia  Germany  Netherlands  France  Italy  Japan  India  Spain  Brazil  MexicoPaperback:  Amazon  Barnes & Noble  Createspace

Serial Fiction: Mistake 14

Click here to read this serial from the beginning
~*~The Great Dane nudged the bathroom door open and began licking my tears. I squeezed my eyes closed and whispered in her soft ear, “Thanks Mommy. My dream weaver told me you are the reincarnation of my biological mother, Marilyn Monroe. I’ll see you have a good life this time. I promise.”I scooted away from Norma Jean and wiped my face off with a soft aqua hand towel. I hung it back on the chrome rod, across from the toilet. Picking up the trash can, I ambled around the corner to the small kitchen. Mustard sauce dribbled from the left corner of my brother’s cantankerous mouth. I retrieved the trash bag from the white plastic kitchen can and emptied the bathroom trash into it. “Hurry up with that.” Perry ordered as he tossed the sardine can in. “Is the boat here?”He followed me into the living room. “No. I dunno. I need to burn the trash.”“Smoke signal? To find the island?” Perry burped. “I don’t know how the geezer got by around here. The satellite T.V. doesn’t even get good reception.” He glanced at Tammy lounging on the leather sofa. “Ginger, go and make me a coconut cream pie.”“Oh, do you think we’ll be here that long? Hey, so you think I look like Ginger?” She smiled and drifted off to Hollywood.Yeah she did look like a new and improved mixed race Ginger. She’s even clutching a script...hey, wait a minute...Tammy said, “Lookit what I found.” she was holding Mike’s manuscript. “The geezer wrote a book and there’s a publisher that wants him to fix it and send it back.”Perry dug between his molars with a wooden toothpick. “Let me see that.”I grabbed the manuscript from her. “This is part of Mike’s estate. You leave it alone. It is personal, his work as an artist. Life’s labor. It belongs to his heirs now.”Perry sucked his teeth after examining a chunk of fish and spitting it out the window. “She’s right. Everything in this house, including intellectual property belongs to geezer boy’s rightful heirs. So long as they know about it. Let me see it.”He tried to tug it from me, but I shoved it under the waistband of my skirt, in the back. I knew he wouldn’t go there.“Jeeze Oh-Donna. This guy had an affair with your mother. He was nothing more than a low life gigolo and you are trying to protect it like it’s the first draft of the Bible.”“Maybe it is. But that’s not for you or any of us to decide. I’m making sure this does not get lost, I’ll see to it personally it goes to his rightful heir. I’ve got to burn the trash and you two need to clean the house. Have you seen any matches?” Gotta get their minds off the manuscript.“On the ledge over the old cook stove, Gilligan.” Perry said with a snide chuckle.It figures. He thinks I’m a buffoon. “I’m not Gilligan. I’m Mary Ann.”Tammy said, “No, hon. She was a sweet young thing. You’d make a better Mrs. Howell.”“Well Perry is the skipper. Big and fat and blustering!”As I departed I said, “We need to clean this place before we close it up. And Perry, figure out who needs to be contacted to locate Mike’s next of kin. The hotel probably has that listed somewhere. Actually, why don’t you call them? They’ll need to know anyhow.” I grabbed the trash and matches as Norma Jean and I made a quick exit. Setting the trashcan on the warped wooden porch floor, I kicked my shoes off. I stuffed the manuscript into my purse and slung it over my shoulder, holding it tight. I used one hand to shimmy out of my pantyhose/sausage casings and shook them out, hanging them over the peeling white gingerbread railing. Intricate cut-outs of hearts, spades, palm trees and rum bottles decorated the old fretwork. I wondered how old this place was. Who was the first owner? Did Mike build it? What was he like as a strapping young man? I retrieved the trash and carefully footed my way down the three weathered steps, onto the gritty sand. It was mixed with rocks and shells. Hmm...perhaps I should’ve left my shoes on? Norma Jean bounded down and rand backwards ahead of me. Trying to help herself to the delicious scents emanating from the garbage.I looked ahead and up, as the sunlight dappled the leaves of the mangroves and palms. An ocean breeze softly swayed the trunks. It carried with it the sent of the salty, fishy sea. I wondered if Mike caught his own fresh fish. Maybe crabbed and threw out shrimp nets too? Well, I’m sure he could have dropped crab boxes off the dock. I’m not exactly sure how shrimping goes. But I do adore eating them. Only with proper cocktail sauce though. I love making my own, extra strong, with low carb ketchup and prepared horseradish from the jar. Yum...I was getting hungry. Until I remembered seeing Perry eating the sardines. There went my appetite. My clothes are nearly hanging off of me though. So my diet must be working well. I do need to get some exercise soon. Tammy, personal trainer to the Capitol Hill pork bellies, is always admonishing me “If you don’t exercise while loosing weight, all you’ll get is a smaller, flabby version of yourself. You wont’ be happy with the results.” Yeah, I’m sure she’d love the commission on signing me up for her gym. It would be entirely out of the question for her to pass along a couple of free pointers to her own sister.
~*~
Visit here again for a new installment or purchase the complete taleKindle: US  Canada  UK  Australia  Germany  Netherlands  France  Italy  Japan  India  Spain  Brazil  MexicoPaperback:  Amazon  Barnes & Noble  Createspace

Serial Fiction: Mistake 13

Click here to read this serial from the beginning
Chapter Four
Paperback Writer
Well, I must have been hydrated again, because supersonic tears were leaking down my face like the valve in my shower that won’t quite shut off. I raised my right arm and awkwardly passed my eyes over the pin stripes. Walking down the hallway, I heard Perry slamming cabinet doors in the kitchen. I found a box of tissues in the bathroom and helped myself to some. As I dropped the snotty paper into the cute wicker waste basket, it occurred to me that no one would be emptying the trash. So I’d better collect it all and then— then what? I doubt the Florida Keys Trash Authority or whatever the entity is called will sail up to the dock and empty the big green plastic can. Mike must burn his trash. Must have burned his trash. Darn it, here go those tears again. I’ve lost three of my parents within a month. My first Daddy, Dr. Nathan Payne, the sociopath pathological liar who raised me. And I did love him and I know he loved me. It wasn’t his fault he manipulated our family like a master, for reasons known only unto him. He did what he decided was best for us. No matter how skewed that best might’ve been. I grabbed a fistful of tissues as the tears for Momma, Chloe Lambert-Taurus-Payne, began deluging. Like lava flowing from Mount Saint Helens. Oh Momma. We loved each other so much. Even when we didn’t like each other, we still clutched that unbreakable umbilical cord. And now I’ve lost my biological father too. Mike Taurus. The guy you truly loved. Why couldn’t you have remarried Mike instead of Nathan? You would’ve been so much happier. And me too. Mike seems like he was an awesomely laid back, happy fellow, unlike mister doom and gloom Chicken Little the sky is falling, Nathan. And Mike was a romance writer, just like me. That’s where I get it from. It isn’t environment, it’s heredity. Despite growing up in the dysfunctional family from a dark reality show, I am a bright person, with a sense of humor and drive for success. Not success for me in a stingy way, mind you. I just feel my calling is to write books. The world needs new stories and I’m just the girl to tell them. If only an up and up agent will give me the chance. So my three parents are gone now. Three outa four. My biological momma died before I was conceived. Not that anybody living knows about it, or would believe it. My dream weaver, Ashley Jones, took me back in history and helped me assemble the pieces. I remembered the enhanced dream revelation where genius Hollywood ob/gyn Dr. Nathan Payne manipulated Marilyn Monroe (who was unable to carry a baby to term) into allowing her ovaries to be transplanted into a donor, to produce a genetic baby for her. But poor Marilyn tragically died two months later. A year before I was even conceived. Me, the first test tube baby. No, no test tubes involved. I was conceived in the usual way, so far as I know. I’m the first surrogate baby. I’m the first baby conceived from a donor ovary. I’m the culmination of Daddy’s medical research. I’m Orpha Donna Payne, made in the U.S.A.And Momma, Chloe Payne, was the unwitting guinea pig when she drew the bad luck of presenting in the emergency room of the hospital with bilateral ovarian cysts, nearly gangrene while Daddy was on duty. He saved her life and didn’t mention he’d transplanted a new one. Marilyn’s. It took and produced eggs. One of Momma’s same-time-each year secret interludes with Mike created me.
~*~
Visit here again for a new installment or purchase the complete taleKindle: US  Canada  UK  Australia  Germany  Netherlands  France  Italy  Japan  India  Spain  Brazil  MexicoPaperback:  Amazon  Barnes & Noble  Createspace