Flood of 1965
Page 4
I turn around. Still not fully awake from peaceful dreams, my frightened brothers stand in their pajamas and face this nightmarish reality. Not knowing what to do, we scatter throughout the house, terror-stricken, while watching the floodwater seep under the front and back doors.
Mother yells, “Put on your shoes and shirts right now!”
While trying to catch our shoes floating at our ankles, we are too young to realize the ramifications of this harrowing event. In unison we jerk our heads toward the splash and clearly see the swaying water half fill the other side of the window glass. When they all seep, not another minute passes before each window takes its turn to burst open, the next step to devouring our home.
None of us has ever moved so fast, as we rush to save some possessions. After shoving the antique table and buffet against the wall, Andrew and Father toss furniture on top: living room sofa, formal chairs, portable stereo, radio, blankets, bedding, and clothing. From the bookcase, Mother and I yank out all family photo albums, music albums, my Beatle scrapbooks, my newspaper clippings of the Warren Commission Report then throw them on top of the stacked pile. But, we soon see our efforts prove a waste of time, precious time we need to get out alive!
Hannibal ~ A True Story
Thriller ~ Novelette
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Synopsis: A man craves revenge against a young woman and uses his enormous canine that, in the end, yearns to kill her. Which one survives?
EXCERPT:
From the darkness, we suddenly hear an assertive, bellowing bark. At once Hannibal releases my ravaged shoe. Like a distracted human, his angry expression switches to astonishment: his bottom jaw drops as if he recognizes the bark. He promptly peers down from the Caterpillar roof, forcing his thick chain to flop over the edge . . . and dangles in front of Sampson’s face. Sampson attempts to climb, but his large size topples him back down to the ground. Before long he realizes the chain attaches to Hannibal. In a snap, a battle of strength and will power begins when Sampson clenches, between his teeth, the chain from Hannibal's collar. Sampson trenches like a plow, anchors big front paws into soft earth, and yanks and yanks while hostile eyes stare straight up to watch Hannibal's whopping head jerk again and again. Hannibal resists, claws the metal roof, incessantly tries to heave Sampson’s weight until the enormous groaning body loses balance at the edge, drags off the Caterpillar, and lands with an emphatic thud into the dirt below.
EXCERPT:
Not taking my eyes off them, I silently dismount the wall onto the Caterpillar cab roof, down to its tracks, down to the ground. I watch Sampson weaken by the second, proving no match. Crumpled up in a heap, yelping and grunting in pain, Sampson is losing. I hold my hand over my mouth; Am at a loss as to what to do. Hannibal tears chunks of flesh from Sampson's head. Gobs of blood cause me to cringe. Hannibal will win this battle by slaying my friend ―if I don't help him.
However, absoluteness begins to crumble as I think, "But now's my chance to run back to Rose’s." This stress swells my shingles out of hiding. They hurt. I cover my ears to muffle Sampson's groans and listen to my conscience. "I can’t leave him to die: he came to protect me. No one will save us . . . I have to dig deep inside myself to find bravery to face Hannibal: no more running away. My strength must now equal his weakened strength which appears to still run full ramp."
Steven
Non-Fiction ~ Novelette
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Synopsis: After the Priest gives Steven his last rites, he continues to live, and not until decades later, we understand why.
EXCERPT:
The day after Steven’s accident, Mother snapped her fingers.
"Get down on your knees," she said while pointing to the floor. We knew she meant it by the stern look on her face. In her bedroom, we gathered close together in front of the Virgin Mary and kneeled. She lit the candle beside the statue, performed the sign of the cross, immediately knelt next to us, and said, "Keep in mind what I told you: each time you remember a person who has passed on, their spirit reads your thoughts. He’s close to death, but to help save him, we want God to hear our loud prayers . . . . and that will shower us with hope."
EXCERPT:
The nurses continually whispered about Steven: the fact that he miraculously lived on after the Priest gave him his last rites was mind boggling. He suffered massive internal injuries, broken bones throughout his body, including a broken leg, a skull fracture, and punctured lungs. We kneeled in front of the Virgin Mary many times during his ordeal. With the help of our mother and reports of his improvement, I began to believe in the power of prayer.
On a breezy fall day in September when the bursts of wind blew the curtains wide apart, I saw a man I did not recognize, limping through the leaves toward our home. Unannounced, it was Steven. Quickly swinging the front door open, Mother was elated and able to ignore his appearance. Yet as I stood peeking from behind her, my reaction was one of shock. I corrected my expression before he saw me, as I understood that he had had his fill of pain. Steven did not look like Steven any longer: he moved like a living skeleton; his facial bones protruded; his chest was concaved; his hair was wispy and dry; he had slurred speech. How deep could my shock go? However, I soon realized that in the real ways, he had not changed.
Lucky
Children’s Short Story ~ 7 - 12
RANKED IN ITUNES iBooks TOP CHARTS THROUGHOUT THE WORLD
Synopsis: Steven finds a bird that falls out of its nest, and as it turns out, the tiny fowl is far, far from ordinary.
EXCERPT:
Very early one July morning, everyone still sleeps but Father. He sits alone in the backyard as the sun rays gently make their way over the hill. While he enjoys his glass of orange juice, Father notices that the sun rays creep into Lucky’s cage, and they slowly unveil the majesty of the handsome, captive bird.
Father stands, peers into the cage, and asks, “My God, Lucky, are you a hawk?”
Lucky squawks a very distinctive cry as if answering him, “Ke Kerr, Ke Keer, Ke Kerr!”
“Steven, Andrew, Mother, wake up!” Father exclaims.
Lucky’s markings reveal yellow feet with black talons, black and white spotted wings, a rusty shoulder patch, and a grayish tail with a dark stripe that runs across his feathers, almost to the tip. Lucky has grown into a beautiful White-tailed Hawk, extremely rare in this part of Texas.
Literary Works by Nancy Reil Riojas
U.S. Copyright Office
Washington, D.C.
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Connect with the Author
I invite you to my ON LINE INTERVIEW, Connect with the Author. Please click the first URL below and note the interview which features an additional excerpt of Night Invaders.
The second URL below is my website. Thank you! Nancy
https://www.ebooksbynancy.com/
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