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(aka Bike) Part 566 by Angharad |
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“Don’t worry about it,” cooed Simon as he hugged me in bed.
“It’s not you who’s going bonkers,” I sniffed, trying not to cry.
“The blue light could be anything. Maybe your camera’s playing up.”
“But it’s not, is it? You proved that when you took a photo of Tom, yet when you took one of me, the blue was back.”
“Does it have a built in tranny detector?”
I rolled over and leaning with my elbow in his ribs, asked, “Does it what?”
“Okay, okay, you made your point; take your bony elbow out of my lung.”
“So how do you explain it?”
“ I can’t, can I? Tom seems to think it’s some sort of miraculous thing, you are the one, the chosen one.”
“Oh, come off it, Si. We all know that was wossisname, you know, the nice looking guy in the Matrix.”
“Keanu Reeves,”
“Dat’s da one.” I tickled his nipples, “Hmm, are you getting manboobs?”
“No, and that tickles, but don’t stop.”
“Maybe we should do the camera test?”
“Hmmm,” he moaned as I sucked it through his tee shirt.
“What about the batteries, how do you explain that?”
“You said yourself, you didn’t spend any money, so how could you have bought them?”
“With my card?”
“Did you have one with you?”
“No.”
“You aren’t going mad.”
“How do you know?”
“You’d have to be sane to begin with, you’re not. Ouch! That bloody hurt.” He rubbed his tender nipple after I’d bitten it.
“I’ve just infected you, you’ll be a vampire looney now, too.”
“Nah, I’m a banker, remember?”
“Damn, I forgot. Heart of stone.”
“Granite, dear boy,” he said in a John Gielguid voice.”
I tried to respond in a Richard III as done by Olivier, but sounded more like Olivia, or probably Olive Oyle. He just laughed at me, so I had to bite his nipple again. He squealed and pushed me over on my back and began nibbling mine.
We didn’t get any further in our discussion about my ‘losing it’ and I eventually drifted off to sleep an hour and a trip to the bathroom later. I woke feeling anything but rested, with little bodies either side of me. These days I didn’t seem to feel them getting in the bed.
“Mummy,” said Trish, trying to engage me in conversation. I groaned in reply and tried to ignore her. “What’s wrong with Mummy, Daddy?”
“She’s feeling a bit blue,” he said, and began to laugh. If Trish hadn’t been between us, I’d have kicked him, and hard.
“She doesn’t look blue to me,” said Trish, lifting the bed clothes as if she was performing a post mortem.
“It’s a joke,” Simon remarked, and slapped me on the bum. At that, I got out of bed and locked myself in the bathroom.
“Mummy, I wanna wee,” called Mima through the door.
“Go away,” I shrieked back, then I heard her crying. I was crying myself, sitting on the toilet seat and sobbing. I heard what I assumed was Simon’s voice. He tried the door, then shouted at me, “Cathy, open this door! Come on, pull yourself together.” It just made me cry even more. I was falling apart, and he was either making jokes about it or telling me off. I stayed where I was.
Some while later, the door was knocked gently, and Tom called through the door, “Are you alright, Cathy?”
“No, no I’m not,” I sobbed back.
“Can we talk about it?”
“What for? I’ve blown everything, haven’t I?”
“I can’t discuss this through a door, girl. Come along and open it, I’m sure we can sort things.”
“I don’t think so, Daddy.”
“Catherine, please do as I ask.” I stepped forward and undid the door. It gently opened and he held out his arms to me. He hugged me and I cried on his shoulder.
“Can we sit down, sweetie?” he asked me, leading me to the bed.
“I’m finished, aren’t I? Gone completely bloody loopy.”
“I don’t think so. You’ve had a hard time recently, and neither Simon nor I have been here to help you.”
“You were ill, and besides, all he does is laugh at me.”
“When he spoke to me, he wasn’t laughing. He was frightened–frightened you’d lose the two children.”
“Oh, Daddy,” I sobbed, “I can’t go on like this.”
“I know, sweetheart. So you get back into bed and I’ll bring you up a cup of tea.”
“I’ve got children to look after,” I protested weakly. I felt so tired.
“Simon and I will look after the girls. You have a sleep.” I did. When I woke up at lunch time, my tea was cold on the bedside table and I could smell bread cooking.
I showered and dressed, feeling quite a bit better, then went downstairs. I got a rapturous welcome from two little people. “Hmmm, who’s making bread?” I asked.
“Twish,” said Mima.
“Yes, Daddy helped a bit…”
“She showed me what to do. Hello, Babes.” He kissed me and all I wanted to do was dissolve in his arms. However, watching us intently were two young women, and I wasn’t going to pass on any trade secrets to such young competition.
“I need to get something for lunch.”
“We’ve had it. Tom and I had chicken curry, and the girls had tomato soup. There was a tin in the cupboard. So it’s only yourself, you have to cater for.”
“Oh, I’ll just have a slice of toast or something. I’m not very hungry.”
“Erm, there isn’t any bread left…”
“Which is why you got Trish to make some more …”
Simon blushed and nodded.
“Okay, is there any milk left?”
“Oh yes, plenty of that.”
“I’ll have some cornflakes, if there’s some of those left.”
“I think so.” Simon reached into the larder and pulled out the packet and shook it. “Yes, it’s half full.”
“You need more than cereal, my girl,” said Tom with authority.
“Why? It’s what I usually have for breakfast.”
“You need to charge yersel’, it’s only your energy that’s keeping that mite alive.”
“Daddy, please.” I indicated the two children and what they’d make of what he said–hopefully nothing.
“’Tis true, what shows on the photygraphs, is what I’m talking aboot. Ye need to go in and see her again for a wee bitty longer yet.”
“I don’t honestly know if I feel up to it. I was thinking of giving it a miss today.”
“Ye canna, she needs ye tae do it, or the consequences ’ll be dire. Ye mark my words, young Cathy.”
“Some scientist, you are,” I threw back at him. “It’s all mumbo jumbo.”
“I’ll happily tak yer scorn, but dinna stop seeing that bairn, please?”
I shook my head, “Okay, anything for a quiet life. I’ll take one of the girls with me today, and one tomorrow.” Tom didn’t look too happy, but he backed off.
“Me, me. Take me, Mummy,” shouts were heard.
“One of you can come with me to see Auntie Stella, the other can have a ride in Daddy’s racing car.” I know, I’m a pig, but I thought it would compensate the loser.
We tossed a coin. Trish won and opted to come with me. We duly visited Stella, who expressed some more milk. Trish’s eyes were out on stalks as she watched.
It took a bit of persuasion to the nurse in charge of the baby unit to let Trish in to see her cousin, but eventually, I prevailed. She watched with bated breath as I fed Puddin’. Then her gaze turned to one of concentration.
“Mummy?”
“Yes, darling?”
“Why is there a blue flame coming out of your hand?”
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Comments
other worldly
I see that "real world" has been dropped from the list of keywords. I just hope the supernatural turn this story has started taking isn't proof that Charlie's been dreaming everything since he got hit by a car and fell off his bike.
I make this up as I go along
so I have no idea where this is going - however, I can reassure you, I will not stoop to the 'dream' after he got knocked off his bike, unless of course, it was just before he disappeared up the tunnel of light and...
Angharad :)
Angharad
Well...
...the traditional shamanic journey through which one accesses one's spiritual power involves both transgender and interspecies experiences, so if she were way up north in Siberia and the rest of the arctic, or transported to almost any pre-contact tribal society, she'd be the presumptive candidate for the position of spiritual leader, since she's both transgendered and has a wee sleekit beastie as her animal guide.
If this gets out, she may be next in line for Archbishop of Canterbury, which would put a whole new spin on things.
Puddin'
----------------
P.S. Anyone who *doesn't* believe that human touch can work wonders is denying the evidence of many thousands of years of human experience in every culture we know of. I'm a licensed massage therapist in California, and can assure you that I've never felt like I was cheating anyone, even at $120 an hour.
Not until we experience it is it more
that just words. After we experience
it, there is no need for words.
--- Milton Trager
-
Cheers,
Puddin'
A tender heart is an asset to an editor: it helps us be ruthless in a tactful way.
--- The Chicago Manual of Style
Real(?) world
I read somewhere that over half the people don't believe that the U.S. put men on the moon. But tell them you know somebody that has healing blue flames shooting out of their hands, now that they'll believe! ;-)
KJT
"All lies in jest, still a man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest"
The Boxer - Simon & Garfunkel
“When a clown moves into a palace, he doesn’t become a king. The palace becomes a circus.” - Turkish Proverb
Well, I'm gullible, I do believe the man on the moon thing
And Cathy's been such a superheroine, why not giving healing energy to a premee baby? Tom's a PhD, he must be right!
Oh, That
"Well, see, Dear, it's hydrogen. As you know, hydrogen burns with a blue flame. Mummy is actually a fusion reactor who has reached into the center of the universe and is converting dark matter to magic energy. I'll teach you and Meems to do it yourselves when you're a bit older. You're doing so well with the bread maker, I'm sure you'll be able to pick this up in no time at all."
If that's the case ...
... then Cathy (or Angharad) has been watching the BBC Horizon programme last week in which Prof Brian Cox (who looks about 12 :) ) reviews worldwide progress in fusion technology. I cheated and watched on my PC.
Angharad is pulling our legs (see below :) ) and going all spiritual on us just to see how we react. Am I being very insensitive if I say that I find this story delightfully hilarious? Tragedies and improbabilities follow so hard on each other's heels that it makes me laugh out loud at times. I think I get more unbelieving the older I get but, fortunately, my sense of (black) humour remains undiminished.
Remember - over 99% of the world's population has more than the average number of legs.
Geoff
So Does Hydrogen Sulphide…
…burns with a blue flame, I mean. We proved it at my boarding school by setting fire to a fellow pupil's fart. Poor chap, it singed the hairs of his bum and he found sitting down very uncomfortable for a few days.
Gabi
Gabi.
And also methane
... which reminds me of silly stories about boys who ignite each others farts. But in Cathy's case it is not coming out of that part of her body so there goes that theory :).
And oh yeah, swamp gas has been blamed on people seeing all sorts of weird stuff.
Kim
Ummm, they actually do...
And, if they do it with their under off - they singe the hairs on said tail end. I know someone who was drunk enough to try/do it. He was drunk. Now, I didn't see the actual event, but, I saw the results. *sighs* He was showing off. NOT what you want to see first thing in the morning. *sighs*
There Is No Denying It Now!
Trish just confirmed everything that Tom said. What'll Cathy do now?
May Your Light Forever Shine
May Your Light Forever Shine
Yup, Tom knew what was going on
And there must be a little magic in Trish if she can see it. NO... it cannot all be a dream!
Am I the only one who thinks that
Cathy is going from a fantastically involved life to being involved in a fantasy life? Obviously not, from the other comments.
No matter, keep it coming, Bonzi.
It’s not given to anyone to have no regrets; only to decide, through the choices we make, which regrets we’ll have,
David Weber – In Fury Born
Holly
It's nice to be important, but it's more important to be nice.
Holly
Well, you are a good maker
Well, you are a good maker upper (if that is a word) Anghard. :) Tis indeed a lovely story and regardless of the blue flame or not, the wee one does need Cathy to be with her and touch her often. One of my Sisters-in-Law is a Neo-Natal Nurse Practioner and once told me babies such as "Puddin" really thrive on being touched. So Hooray for Cathy.
J-Lynn
Well Blue
has always been considered the spiritual color in aura readings. Sounds like she's been 'charged' with her 'niece's' welfare. I suspect she will lose this ability after puddin's healed.
It would be a nightmare if she is suddenly known as a miraculous healer. Saint Catherine ? *shudder*.
On the other hand trans-folks were considered the shamans of the tribe who are more in touch with the spiritual world so it can kinda make sense.
Kim
Easy As Falling Off A Bike
Angharad; I love this story almost more then any here. It's gone in so many direction and you just sime to be able to make it flow together so well. Now we got the healing Angel Cathy and with Trish seeing it she got some more problems to keep Trish quite to keep what Trish just seen? Keep it up IT's THE BEST!! Richard
Richard
Well, there is
even some evidence that it is possible for one person to "share energy" with another. And,the common consinsus is that the blue color is a healing color.
That said, I've never seen that blue "aura" except in the movies. I'd always assumed it was figurative.
BTW - apparently the following self visualization process is actualy taught to some migraine sufferers in some hospitals. First, picture your area of pain as bright red, burning hot. Then, envision a ball of cool (or cold) blue stuff in your hand. Now, slowly take the "ball" of stuff in your hand, and press it against the area of max pain / red. Visualize the colors merging and the temperatures blending... Until you have a purple color and it's warm. This can be repeated.
Supposedly with most patients, that can concentrate hard enough, the above exercise DOES significantly reduce the pain that is experienced / felt.
Life, again as strange or stranger than fiction...
Annette
As one who can see
the colours of energies, it is entirely possible to teach yourself to do this too. Learning to dowse is the easiest way, using either a pendulum or rod(s). I also teach visualisation when doing relaxation or hypnosis with patients, that often involves 'seeing' colours, especially with pain work.
Angharad
Angharad
Okay, the supernatural stuff I can accept ...
and being beaten to the *natural gas* jokes about the Blue Flame … As to The Blue Flame, are we talking the sacred blue flame from a Tom Baker Doctor Who or the world land speed record vehicle of a few decades back?
But Wiggling Dominoes????? What’s with that? A reference to Pudin’s tiny preemie toes?
Hum, if she really can give off healing powers, Stella needs some hands on as does Tom and even Henry. Maybe Trish will become a real girl as will Cathy? Alright, where’s the goddess Sekmet?
Ack, I am sooo confused And no Bobbie Ewing stepping out of the shower and back into the TV series Dallas writers tricks for you, Bonzi, and or your servant, Ang, got it?
John in Wauwatosa
John in Wauwatosa
Oh?
And just how do you plan on stopping them?
KJT
"All lies in jest, still a man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest"
The Boxer - Simon & Garfunkel
“When a clown moves into a palace, he doesn’t become a king. The palace becomes a circus.” - Turkish Proverb
Supernatural Bike (566)?
I don't do supernatural or religious so am looking down the comments for signs of where the story is going when I remember......
Years ago some friends asked me to do the healing hands thing. I can't remember why they wanted me but it did feel as though something was happening although I still didn't believe in it. That didn't stop one of my friends a few days later thanking me for fixing her ankle.....
Enough of this rambling, I'm still not a believer but I'd better read a bit further just because.......
I do so hope this doesn't turn into jumbo jumbo Angharad because it is such good reading
Rhona McCloud
Wow
I think there is a very very much connection with Cathy's Mother. hopefully It's an energizer for little Des.
Who's proof reading, Tanya Allan
Well, this would explain why Cathy's so tired after visiting the sick. She needs protein to charge her battery.
This story is starting to sound like one of my Irish gran's tale's
Cefin
For Skeptics
You do not have to believe in God to realize that there are myriad unexplainable events that take place in this world. The science fiction of the 1960s is the Science fact of 2010s.
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
- Hamlet (1.5.167-8), Hamlet to Horatio
waif
Be kind to those who are unkind, tolerant toward those who treat you with intolerance, loving to those who withhold their love, and always smile through the pains of life.