episode 1 by Connie Spittler...The sky floated above like a blue parachute.  It was mid-day, crackling with heat. A trail of ants maneuvered this way and that, while the buzz of flies vibrated to their silent progress.  Off in the distance a form moved forward, past rock and
ridges...

episode 2 by Ruth Gardner (Tucson, Arizona)...coming steadily closer.  Ariane squinted against the bright, hot sun trying to see the markings on the Ultralite.  It was still too far away but it was heading straight toward the young woman sitting in her stalled vehicle.  She was tall, brown haired and as she stepped out of her new, high performance Porsche the wind ruffled her short, dark curls.  Her blue eyes continued to gaze through her designer sunglasses at the approaching craft.

Although the road where she stood was a state highway,  it was not well traveled.  Particularly not this time of year which was midsummer.  She had no idea why her car had stalled and even less idea how to get it started again.  She grimaced as she looked at her white, linen suit and white, high heeled shoes. 

Ariane was a computer expert who worked setting up and managing computer networks for a large well-known firm. The relatively short distance from Tucson where she lived to San Diego made this a frequent route for her.  This trip she had tried a short cut hoping to arrive on time after a late start.  A new client in downtown San Diego had been very anxious to have her come and take care of some problems in an already installed network. Although she had only been stalled less than an hour, she was sure she could not arrive on time, barring a miracle, that is.  Her cell phone was useless.  She knew there was a "dead spot" somewhere in this area.  When she had tried to use it a little earlier, she found she was in that dreaded "dead spot."

She stood, relatively confident, if one can look confident in the blazing sun, standing beside an unmoving car, wondering if the Ultralite could be the miracle she so badly needed.  Staring skyward she was not aware of another form on the road behind her also drawing closer until she heard the sound of the motor, turned and saw  an old, faded, yellow pickup.  

The Ultralite dipped its wings.  She saw the small machine descend to where the pickup had stopped a few hundred feet behind her.  She watched as the plane landed, its pilot stepped out and shook hands with the older, bearded man now standing beside his small truck.  When she saw the older man take a rifle from his truck and the two of them start toward her...

episode 3 by Rhonda Stansberry (Omaha, Nebraska)...she braced herself for the encounter. Was it fear that rose through her body? No, she thought, relief. 

The older man smiled. He was slim, wiry, like her dad. He had an easy gait, as if he had walked this land all his life, knew it intimately. The younger man could be his son. They might be meeting to hunt small game, chase down a coyote or perhaps a rabid dog.

As they drew near, the old man addressed her: "What's the trouble?"

"My car has stalled," she said. "I was passing through, taking a short cut. Can you help me?" 

"We'll take a look," the old man said. "You know, a woman shouldn't be out here alone. Not many pass through here."

Something in his tone alarmed her. What he said had the slightest hint of warning in it. The tone said, "this is not a place for a woman." Or was it, "this is not a place for a stranger"?............

episode 4 by Joan (anonymous)...She just stood there, smiling. A smile that didn't betray how very uneasy she was becoming. 

She tensed when the younger man stepped behind her, but was relieved when he opened the car door and unlatched the engine cover. 

Ariane thought back when she was in the showroom and the salesman opened the rear engine compartment and explained "The Porsche 911 is boosted by twin turbochargers, the 3.6-liter engine develops a phenomenal 309 kW at 6,000 rpm. Even the slightest touch on the accelerator is met with an unparalleled immediacy of response."  

The old man pulled the hood back, stared at the engine and after a pause said,  "Mike, this thing packs a lot more gadgets than "Ole Yeller". I think you better do the snooping" 

"Pops," Mike said with a smirk as he walked around to the rear of the Porsche, "when are you going to get out of the dark ages." 

"No need to," as he stepped aside and gave Ariane a quick wink, "as long as you young whippersnappers know everything." 

At that very moment in time, Ariane relaxed with an audible sigh, feeling like the weight of the world was lifted from her shoulders. And, at that very moment in time, Ariane swears she knew she wanted Pops and Mike to be a part of her life. 

"I'm Harley Thomas" he approached Ariane,  "everybody calls me Har, except for my son there, he likes to call me Pops." 

Ariane leaned forward, extended her hand and said, "Very pleased to meet you, sir. I am Ariane Pech."  His grip told her he wasn't comfortable shaking hands with women. He held her hand between his thumb and forefinger with barely any pressure. But what a genuine smile. "I'm awfully glad to see you. I was starting to think no one would come," she added. 

"Well, I had an eye on you for quite a while. When Mike showed up in his flying machine we decided to see what was happening." 

"Where were you?" she asked, "I couldn't see any signs of life. Anywhere."  

"Off that way," he pointed toward the gently rising desert, "about ten miles. I have a ranch house that overlooks the whole valley. You were just a speck on the highway and when you stopped moving I got curious." 

"I'm afraid I was beginning to feel like just a speck."

"Well, don't worry Ariane, we’ll get you out of here. Mike’s got a good touch with cars. If he can't get it going," he gestured over his shoulder toward the faded yellow pickup, "Ole Yeller can get us back to the ranch house. I can make that bugger run on cactus juice." 

“Thanks, I’m so grateful. My cell phone isn’t working and I’ve missed my appointment in San Diego, maybe I could phone my client.” 

"Pops!" Michael interrupted from the Porsche. He was obviously excited. "Come here! Look at this!” He stooped over to pick up a small jagged rock, and turned to them in excitement. “This is it, Pops! This is what we’ve been hoping to find. See the veining, the intense color. I knew there had to be some along this road.” 

Pops took the rock and examined it carefully. “This will prove that Dunbarty was not being completely honest.” 

“Yeah, and I can accelerate the investigation.”  He turned, “I’m sorry Ariane,” he doffed his hat, “I’m Mike, welcome to the deserted desert. Pops will tow your Porche back to his ranch where he has some tools and we’ll see what we can do to get you fixed up," he continued, "I’ll meet you there. I want to see if there are any more rocks along here and take them back with me.” 

 “I’d be glad to help you look if you show me what you’re looking for.” Ariane wanted to get involved, “I hope you’ll tell me more about what’s going on. It sounds intriguing.”   

“Sure,” Mike was more than anxious to let Ariane know about it,  “Pops and I ...."

episode 5 by Di Saggau (Ft. Meyers, Florida)...have heard rumors for years that there was an old goldmine somewhere in this desert. My Grampa used to talk about it all the time. Since I was a kid he would tell the story about how two men went searching for it, never to be heard from again. Kind of like 'The Treasure of Sierra Madre.' The way he told it, the men started out one Sunday and along the way they would mark their path with a pile of rocks and a wooden stake. Gramps had a friend who actually followed them for a month, just out of curiosity. Duke Dunbarty was his name. He and Gramps had been friends since the war. But old Duke got tired of chasing what he called the 'pipe dreams' of two day dreamers."

Harley chimed in at this point, "Yeah, in dad's day you worked for what you got...no wild goose get-rich-quick schemes for him or his friends."

"What happened to the men who went looking for the gold mine?" asked Ariane.

"Well," said Mike, "Gramps had lots of stories about that. One time when I was about 7 years old he told me they were swallowed alive by the Whiffenpoof -the most fierce beast in the world. He had me so scared I didn't leave the ranch for two days. Not 'til he revised his story and told me the Whiffenpoof only ate people who tried to steal his gold."

"There's still a Whiff and Poof roaming this land," said Har.

Ariane threw him a quizzical look.

"Mike's two golden labs...he named one Whiff and the other Poof. Dad sure would have enjoyed the humor in that," chuckled Har.

Mike continued, "Another time Gramps told me the men actually found the goldmine but it was so old and rickety that while they were poking around in it, they fell through an underground chute and landed clear in China where they had to eat fish heads and rice for the rest of their lives."

Har laughed at this..."Yeah, dad would change the fate of those two guys more often than I change socks."

"Sounds like he was quite the story teller," said Ariane.

"He was a dandy he was," said Har. "Before he died though he came up with an ending to the story that he said was true. He said the men found the goldmine alright but their fate was sealed when an earthquake hit the area and everything was swallowed into the bowels of the desert. That was 20 years ago."

"Pops and I would often reminisce about the tales Gramps told," said Mike, "but we never put any faith in the fact that there was any truth to his stories."

"Not 'til a few months ago when dads old buddy Duke dropped by the ranch," said Har. "He and his son Wendel joined us for dinner. We got to talking about dad and his stories and when we retold the one about the earthquake, Duke said the darndest thing. Mind you he was in his late 80's, at least, so he tended to ramble sometimes - but our ears perked up when he said" "Harley, your dad was telling the truth about that earthquake." 

"We might have dismissed Duke's comment to senility," said Mike, "but Wendel, who had been conspicuously quiet during our conversation, all of a sudden grabbed his dad by the shoulder and said...."  

episode 6 by Regina Cromwell (Sparks Nevada)...."Dad, I told you a thousand times, there never was no gold mine. I wish you'd let it drop."

For the rest of the night, any time we tried to steer the conversation back to the goldmine, Wendell would change the subject. He spent the rest of the time glaring at the wall. To be honest, he seemed pretty impatient to get out of there.  At one point he left the table right in the middle of a conversation, stalked across the room and spent the rest of the night examining the old photographs on the wall.

"Why didn't he want to talk about the goldmine, you suppose?" asked Ariane.

"That's what we were wondering."

Har hitched the Porsche up to "ole yeller" and they headed to the ranch. Mike soared ahead in his home-built airplane. The ranch was a little worn, the decor spartan. The wallpaper in the hallway was faded, except for the irregular rectangles where pictures used to hang. Bare now, they seemed so lonely. Just like the two men who inhabited the place.

"I'll rustle us up something to eat" said Har, as he shuffled into the kitchen. "Hey Mike, don't let our guest go dry."

"Scotch and soda ok?"

"It's a little early, but I suppose."

Mike mixed them both a drink, the silence broken only by the sound of the ice clinking in their glasses. As she reached for her drink, her fingers momentarily touched Mike's. She withdrew them quickly. "Mind if I have a look around?" 

"Be my guest" 

"I just love memorabilia." Ariane wandered around the living room, stopping in front of a wall that unlike the hall wall was crowded with photographs, their frames wearing fine layer of dust. "Who's this?" she asked.

"I think that's a great Aunt on my mom's side. If I remember it correctly, she was the beautician at the local mortuary. Got everyone gussied up for their final curtain call."

"That would be kind of a bizarre job."  Ariane moved along the wall, peering down at a small sepia tone photograph near the floor. "Is that your Dad?"

Mike crouched near the photo. "Yup. That's Dad and Duke Dunbarty. The guy we were talking about earlier."

"I see where you get your good looks." Ariane blushed the moment the words were out of her mouth. She turned away from Mike and pointed at the empty space on the wall. "What used to be here?" She asked quickly, looking for a way to change the subject.

Mike cocked his head, and looked at the empty hook. "Now that's odd..." 

episode 7 by Susan Cummins Miller (Tucson, Arizona)..."What's odd?" Ariane asked. 

"I could've sworn that photo was hanging there the last time I visited Pops," 
Mike said, scratching his head.  He wasn't wearing a wedding band.

Harley came in with a tray of drinks and some cheese and crackers.  Ariane dove in like she hadn't tasted food in a week.

"What happened to the photo, Pops?"

"Oh--Wendel knocked it down and broke the glass that night he and Duke came to dinner.  I think I stuck it in the hall closet." 

"What was in the photo?" Ariane asked, the question muffled by cracker crumbs.

"It was an old black-and-white shot of Baboquivari Peak, sacred mountain to the Tohono O'odham, the people that live here," Har said.

Mike had been rummaging in the closet.  He emerged with a photograph in a cheap oak frame. 

"Why it's beautiful," said Ariane.  The photo, taken from the bank of an arroyo lined with trees and giant cacti, showed rugged peaks in the background.

"Yeah, Grandma hauled that camera everywhere.  This was a favorite picnic spot during the saguaro harvest.  I haven't been there in years."  Mike's face softened with memories. He pointed to a triangular peak in the upper left corner.  "That's Baboquivari."  He cleared his throat.  "Well, let me see about your car."

Ten minutes later he was back.  Ariane could tell from his face that he'd had no luck with the Porsche.  "I called a tow truck," he said.  "They can't get here till tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow morning?  But--"

"Sorry about that.  They'll be working all night to clear a pile-up on the interstate.  But you can bunk with Pops tonight...er...not literally, of course."

"Not that I'd mind," said Harley, with a grin.  "But I'll make up the guest room."

Ariane shrugged.  "Can I use your phone?"

Mike led her to the kitchen. Outside the gathering monsoon clouds cast shadows over the valley floor. She could see half way to Mexico.

"If you don't mind roughing it, I'll show you that picnic spot," Mike said when she'd finished her call.

"It's a deal. Just let me change."

The site was peaceful as a graveyard. Sycamores grew across the creek, their smooth white bark dappled with shade like an appaloosa's flank. Tufts of dry grass, pointing stiffly downstream, decorated the cat claw and creosote. Thunder rumbled in the southern sky.

"We're close now," Mike said, then fell silent.

Thorns scored Ariane's bare arms and legs as she pushed her way through a thicket and down the bank. They followed the wash as it dog-legged upstream. A railroad tie was lodged ten feet up in a cottonwood, evidence that recent monsoon rains had produced a powerful, devastating flood.  The receding water had left strand lines of black mica at the arroyo's edge.  Garnets had collected in pockets on the downstream side of cobbles.  Ariane picked up a handful of coarse sand. Tiny crystals gleamed like drops of blood on her palm.

Around the bend, the flash-flood's force had stripped away several feet of the bank, exposing ruby-red cloth....

The body was tucked under the gnarled roots of a half-dead velvet mesquite.  Next to it, under it, the end of a leg bone protruded from the sandy bank.  A few strands of long, dark-blonde hair lay twisted among the sand grains.

She wasn't pretty, not anymore.  The skull had been crushed by something large and heavy. A rock, Mike suggested.  Ariane could only nod.  Nearby a curve-billed thrasher whistled from a stag horn cholla.  It sounded human.

"You okay?" Mike asked, touching her shoulder.

"I went into the Corps straight out of high school.  I saw worse than this."  Ariane crouched down beside the body.  The woman had been interred hastily, haphazardly -- probably last spring when the creek was dry, before the monsoon rains.  Whoever killed her had caved in the bank over her.  Despite the late-afternoon heat Ariane shivered, hoping the woman had been dead when the sand and rock cascaded down.

They didn't rush back to the house to make the call.  Time couldn't matter to the victim anymore.

The forensics crew placed the corpse gently in a body bag, leaving it unzipped.  The dress, an expensive, summer-weight silk sheath, had held up better than the body.  A gold pin, with a Mimbres basket design, still clung to the cloth at her right shoulder.  The last rays of the sun chased each other around the concave, circular surface.

Ariane had seen that workmanship before, somewhere....

episode 8 by Aviva Hickney (Brisbane, Aus.)…but she couldn’t get her mind to focus. She stared at the design. The crew quietly finished their work, zipped up the bag and carried it toward the road. At the top of the hill, one of them called back,  “The sheriff will be in touch with you, Mike. I know he’ll want a statement.”

   “Ok, I’ll be at Pop’s house,”  

   Mike looked at Ariane, “He’ll want to talk to you too.”

  “Do you have any idea who she was?”

Mike shook his head, “Hard to tell. Time’s erased a lot. As far as I know all the locals are accounted for.”

   “What about strangers?

   “Not too many strangers around here. Too far from the action.”

   “Well, something bad happened here.”

    “There’s some migrant activity now and then. It’s only a few miles from the border.”

     “The lady in red certainly wasn’t dressed for a migration journey.”

     “True,” Mike’s face was grim, “Not much of a sentimental journey to the old picnic spot. Let’s head on back and fill Pops in. It will give me time to think and Pops may have some ideas about it too.”

     They walked slowly up the ridge toward Mike’s vehicle. Ariane breathed in the clear air. The desert was a lonely place, but rugged and beautiful too. As they continued toward the road, she glanced up a narrow arroyo. A flash of color caught her eye. “What’s that over there?” she said, pointed at a flutter of red on a low branch.

      Mike peered in that direction, and changed his pace, walking faster toward the red flag. “Let’s take a look.”  They made their way through the clumps of bursage. Big boulders grew out of the dry earth. Mike held Ariane’s elbow to steady her when the undergrowth was too rough.

     The red chiffon scarf was tied to a low branch of the crooked mesquite. Below it, a small pile of rocks were topped with a weathered wooden stake. Mike reached down to pick up one of the rocks. He saw the intense color of the veining and remembered Dunbarty...

 episode 9 by Loira Euphrates (St Paul, MN)…...yelling at his dad that there wasn't any gold mine.

     “I should take this in to be analyzed along with the other I picked up where your car was stalled," he handed it to Ariane, “It's not gold.”

     She turned the rock over carefully, looking at its peculiar color, “Maybe it’s something even more valuable.”

     “I intend to find out,” said Mike, reaching to reclaim the stone.

      He squatted down to examine the pile of rocks. “This has been here for quite some time. You can tell by the wind and rain erosion around the bottom rocks. We’re too high in the arroyo for the flash floods to reach it. The stake could have been place here last year, or a hundred years ago. Things don’t change much in our dry climate.”

     “Do you think this could be marking a mine?” she asked.

     “It’s hard to tell what we have here. It could one of many markers denoting a trail. It could be an old Indian icon. The stake could have been added recently. 

     "Do you think so?"

     "Surely the red cloth was. It could be a surveyor’s cairn.  That’s unlikely, though, cause this is Pop’s land and he’d have told me about any surveying. Lots of his land hasn't been explored. We wouldn't be here now, if we'd gone back the usual way.”

     “This is Pop’s land? This has to be twenty miles from the house. Can I ask how much land he has?”

     “We’re not sure exactly. Well over 30,000 acres, but it’s not worth much. Most of it just desert and more desert."

     "Has your dad always lived here?"

     " My grandfather started acquiring it when a dollar would buy an acre. Pops kinda keeps a low profile. He loves the privacy the land gives. For that matter so do I. It’s a great place for me to come to and escape the big city. He just hopes the assessor doesn’t come along and re-value the area. It probably should be surveyed though, someday.”

     As he stood up, he shaded his eyes and searched up the arroyo towards the mountains. “It’d be interesting to see if there are any more cairns waiting to be found.” He paused, “I’ve got an idea. But, let me think about it awhile.”

     “You mentioned Native Americans, Were they in this area?” she asked.

      “Pops can tell you all about that, and he’d enjoy giving you some history. We’ll leave the red marker until we know more. Let’s head back.”

     The two were quiet as they drove back to the ranch, each wrapped in their own thoughts. In his mind, Mike saw again the woman’s protruding bones, the skull, the ripped dress. ‘How does anyone do such violence to another person?’ He wished he believed that human nature was improving. Technology advanced. The scientific world exploded. So many things changed, but the results of greed and anger and pure evil seemed to always stay the same.    

    Ariane was determined to concentrate on something other than the body. She focused on the pin, waiting for the design to trigger an answer in her mind. She had seen the markings before. ‘I’ll probably remember in the middle of the night,’ she thought.

     The silence between the two was not uncomfortable, thoughtful pauses representing their respect for each other's privacy. As they pulled into the long gravel drive, Har came out to stand on the long porch that stretched across the front of the house. Mike and Ariane knew they’d be replaying the events of the day. 

    “Tow truck came by and towed your car into town, Ariane. Seems to be some other action around here. Saw an emergency vehicle go past on the county road. Do you know what’s going on?” Har looked concerned.

     Mike and Ariane stepped up on the porch and each sat in one of the rugged rockers, settling down for an extended conversation. The old furniture creaked in rhythm to their words, as they took turns telling about the afternoon. When they reached the end of the story, Mike handed the rock to Har.

    “Definitely the same veining. I'd like to see where that rock pile is. Are you game to go back?” Har asked.

     “First thing tomorrow morning. Ariane, do you want to come too?” Mike looked her direction. 

      “You couldn’t leave without me. I’m part of this venture.” Ariane returned to her own puzzle. She described the design on the woman’s pin for Harley, hoping he would have some thoughts about it.”

     Har nodded, “Sounds like an old Mimbres design.”

     Ariane smiled, “Yes! That sounds right. A few years ago I went to a traveling exhibition at Mingei Museum in San Diego and saw some beautiful pottery. The pieces had similar designs. Could that have been Mimbres?”

     “Don’t know,” said Har. “The Mimbres lived mostly in Southern New Mexico. I recollect some were in Arizona, but understand, it was a long time ago. I’ve got a book about their culture in the study. Thing is, they disappeared round 1150. Just vanished from the valleys and no one has found a trace. They left some pots and that’s about it.”

     “Like the Anasazi, Pops.”

     “Right, some similarity. Lots of speculation about what happened,” Har continued, “but no real answers.”

     “Could I look at the book?,” asked Ariane.

     “Sure. I’ll go get it.” Har seemed genuinely pleased, and headed into the house.

     “I remember beautiful black on white bowls.” Now Ariane could picture the exhibition she’d seen. “Designs of animals and imaginary creatures. Lightning and clouds and mountains. People dancing and hunting. The pottery was wonderful.”

     "Mom loved old pottery. She collected some Cochiti and Santo Domingo pieces, Zuni and Hopi. I'll show them to you later, if you're interested. She used to find shards out on the land too."

      Pops let the screen door slam behind him. He handed a thick book over to Ariane.

     "I'd love to see your mother's pottery collection," Ariane said gently. 

episode 10 by Kara Whatley (Santa Fe, NM)… The three went into the house and entered the den. Bookshelves lined the walls. An old Indian rug covered the polished Mexican tile. It was a room with history and warmth. Dust motes filtered through the air as the last of the day's sunshine came in through the windows. Ariane felt at home in the slightly dusty atmosphere. Mike picked up a shard and handed it to Ariane. She took it carefully and studied the tiny, intricate lines that etched the clay.

     "I'd love to hear more about the Mimbres," she said.

     "I haven't thought about this in a long time," Har began. "There's alot of mystery about the culture.

     Ariane's curiosity did not have to be tweaked, "And I love mysteries."

    "Their people lived along the river that's named for them. Mimbres means willows for obvious reasons. They lived in pit houses in the beginning and later they built pueblos over the early dwellings."

    "We did some exploring along the river when I was a kid." Mike  said. "We looked in caves, hiked along the river and into the hills. That's one reason Mom got interested in the shards. But she found these on our land. We never would take anything found in the wilderness."

     "The pottery designs are really complex," Ariane examined the piece of a bowl she still held in the palm of her hand.

     "Their artists painted on white slipped clay. You said you saw some of the designs they created, fish, animals, people, insects, flowers. And some just seem to be a geometric abstracts.

   "Hundreds of fine lines go into the art. Lots of the pottery was found at burial sites."

    Mike added, "That's another part of the legacy. The pots were found placed over the skulls in the graves. Each pot had a hole in the center."

    "Archaeologists called it the" kill hole"," Har explained. "They believe it's the way the soul escaped into eternity." Har gazed out the window into the twilight.

    "And then they disappeared." Ariane murmured. "I'll take the book to bed with me tonight. It's intriguing."   

    "They left remains of pit houses, pueblos, graves and pottery. A mystery lots of people have tried to solve and have failed." Har said.

   The three fell silent. Ariane gave the shard back to Mike, who placed it back on the shelf.

   "Tomorrow we'll ...

episode 11 by Zannie Volpe, London, England ... go back to where we found the woman."  Ariane took a quick shower and then slipped in between the coarse cotton sheets, grateful to be on her own and able to rest a little. She started to read but soon the book slipped out of her hands and she entered a deep and restless sleep. 

    Anyone looking in on her would have seen her eyes moving rapidly under the lids and would have heard soft noises of distress escaping from her dry mouth. 

    The dream landscape Ariane had enetered was far from friendly, echoing her fears from earlier in the day when she had first stalled the car in the middle of nowhere.Her dreamself knew she was dreaming, but this lucidity did not allow her to escape from the dream. She looked around and saw that she was at the site of the discovery of the body, and when she looked down, it was still there, but now the bones seemed luminous and the woman did not seem dead. She was trying to communicate something to Ariane who.....

episode 12 by Fiona MacLean, Regensburg, Germany ... was resisting somehow as if her life depended on not believing... Finally the woman in the dream shrugged her shoulders and disappeared to be replaced by a grinning cat and there were the mad hatter and the rabbit with a strange resemblance to Mike and Pops, Mike a little manic and Pops nervous and acquiescent.  Mike/mad Hatter was continually taking off his stack of hats and scratching his head until the White Rabbit/ Pops suddenly squeaked, just take that thing off!  Mike mad hatter removed his three hats suddenly and to reveal a rat nibbling at his scalp. Ariane tried to scream and she couldn't make a sound as the rat jumped into the tree by the mound of stones and turned into a bat which landed gently on her head. Waking suddenly she saw that it was day and that the bat was a thin light volume of translucent pages covered in weblike handwriting bound in leather that had fallen off the shelf above and landed on her head. Unable to suppress her curiosity she started to read what seemed to be a diary from fifty years back. Hearing a sound she saw Mike grinning at her through the half open door. He was carrying a breakfast tray and she noticed a delicious coffee aroma. Looking at the apparent cheerfulness of Mike she was puzzled for a moment until she remembered the sinister dream.  It was then that she wondered how this personal document so relevant to the day's conversation had come to be poised on the edge of the shelf above her bed.   To Be Continued

 
     The next episode will be due on the last day of the month.Your submission should continue from the above premise. There are no rules as to the direction you take, except  your entry should be less than 750 words.  The choosing of the next segment will based on how well it blends into the previous segment and the opportunity it gives succeeding writers to continue a thread. Throughout the writing of the saga, minor factual revisions might be made in the interest of story continuity and plot development.  

Entries can be submitted by copying & pasting to email to Connie, or by clicking on any Bee in sight.

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