Extricate: Two Tales of Two Women Entangled Two Different Ways!

By S.R. Longshore

Have you ever wondered why things happen the way that they do? Have you ever been stuck in a situation that seemed impossible to escape from unharmed? Most of us have, and Extricate explores the possibility that there are forces seen and unseen that assist us just in the nick of time.

Extricate contains two stories where two different people are in two troubling situations. Neither knows exactly what is going on, but just before things get totally out of control, help arrives.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jan 28, 2011
• ISBN: 9781449019938

S.R. Longshore

Born in Norfolk, Va., the author is one with a vivid imagination which causes her to daydream quite frequently. Her imagination mirrors the stories that she is fond of which is anything containing humorous calamity, suspense, mystery, science fiction or an alternate reality. When she watches movies, she often rewrite parts of them. She also loves to write poems. And for years she has been sending them out during the holidays as words of encouragement. She is a heavy dreamer when she sleeps. And many of her dreams are repetitive. Those she loves to share with her closest friends. She now desires to turn her dreams into novelettes. Part dream, part imagination and possibly part non-fiction, she desires to write each one so that they will boost the reader's imagination or make them ponder. But mostly, she hopes that they will enjoy reading them as much as she enjoys sharing them.

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© 2011 S. R. Longshore. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 1/25/2011

ISBN: 978-1-4490-1991-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4490-1992-1 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4490-1993-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2010912580

Printed in the United States of America

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any Web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

EXTRICATE

Extricate contains two short stories, The Gift and The Trip, about two different women who become entangled but find help in two very different ways.

Contents

EXTRICATE

The Gift

Introduction: The Gift

True Love Never Dies

Everyone has Problems

The Revival

Filled with Amazement

Code Blue

The Bicyclers

At the Police Station

The Neighbor

The Discussion Room

Meeting the Speaker

It Is Time

The Gift Revealed

One More Thing

Conclusion

The Trip

Introduction: The Trip

It is Final

Thinking about the Trip

On Our Way

At the Aunt’s House

Getting Ready for the Picnic

Picnic Day

Saying Goodbye to the Aunt

A Day at the Fair

On the Way to the Bed and Breakfast

At the Bed and Breakfast

Inside the Cottage

The Medallion Comes On

Here Comes the Sheriff

In the Room

On the Balcony

A Knock at the Door

Breakfast Time

Introduced to the Rest of the Family

Trouble with the Car

Trump Card

Next Plan

On the Way to the River

At the River

Entering the Ferry

Inside the Ferry

The Vision

Getting off the Ferry

Back at the House

The Sheriff Returns

Called the Aunt

Conclusion

Epilogue

The Gift

Introduction: The Gift

From her youth to a young woman, a girl desperately desires to be fulfilled. Many deep hurts prevent her from fully trusting people. But one day, she gets a gift, one that frees her heart and clears her troubled mind. From that moment on, nothing will ever be the same.

True Love Never Dies

Everyone has a gift. Sometimes certain things must happen before we realize what our gift is. I remember when I found out what my gift was. But I did not find out suddenly. It began to manifest itself to me in the winter of 1973. I was about eight years old and attending my mother’s funeral. This was absolutely the saddest day of my life. I could not stop staring at the coffin and the big hole that lay beneath her final resting bed. I could see a man speaking, but I could not hear what he was saying. I could see everyone crying, but I could not hear them sobbing. The whole scene seemed like a silent movie playing before my eyes.

To ease the pain, I began to reflect back to a short time before my mother died. I was visiting her at the hospital. She was lying in the bed with her eyes open but looking up and staring at something in a distance, rarely glancing at anyone. Several people, mostly relatives, were there whimpering. I began to sing and dance, hoping that I would get my mother’s attention. Even though she would look my way, for some reason I felt that she did not see me. Yet I was not sure. I was holding on to the thought that if she could not see me, maybe she could hear me. I hoped that she would not die if she knew I was still waiting for her to get better. I just knew that she loved me and I wanted her to know now more than ever that I loved her. She once told me that true love never dies. So I just could not stop loving her. I had to give her a reason to hold on until she could heal and come home. So I sang and danced, and I tried to smile as I fought back the tears waiting to burst from my eyes.

My display seemed to upset most of the people there. They told me to be quiet because I would disturb the other patients. Reluctantly, I stopped. I slowly glanced at each person in the room as the tears ran down my face. I thought to myself, Do they not know that if I stop showing her I love her, she might give up? I felt that they did not love her as much as I did. And I knew that they did not need her like I did. All of their faces were in disgust toward me except for an aunt and a man whom I had often seen before. The two of them smiled as tears ran down their faces.

I heard one of my relatives say in regard to my crying that I was just upset because my mother was dying. This was partially true. I was more upset because many of my relatives never valued how I felt. I was always discouraged when I shared my opinions. Therefore, I learned to keep my feelings to myself, except for occasionally talking to my imaginary playmates. And yes, of course, I was upset because my mother was dying. Who wouldn’t be? I mumbled.

If my mother was to die, it was already discussed that my aunt who was smiling would become my primary caregiver. I was not sure who the man was. I had seen him around town, but we had never been introduced. He had a calm aura about him. My mother must have liked him a lot because he visited the hospital quite a bit. She often stared at him more than the rest of us. He could have been one of her male friends. I know she used to keep male company, but she never introduced them to me. One day I asked her why she did not introduce them. She said that if one of them were to become my daddy, she would. Since she never remarried, I never met any of them directly. However, there were two other men who used to do a lot of nice things for her and who went out of their way to speak to her as she passed through the streets. So I kind of thought they were or at least wanted to be her friend. Anyway, none of that was important to me anymore. I did not want a daddy. I wanted my mother to live.

As I focused back to the memorial service, I noticed that the man at the hospital and the two men