Piddling Drivel

  Are you afraid to die?   During a recent hike I thought about this, and the notion has taken up residence in my head since then.  A trail my wife and I were on had a section that was quite hazardous with slick, moss-carpeted rocks and a steep downward slope on one side.  As happens often my imagination got the best of me, and I envisioned myself slipping on the rocks and dropping over the edge, my scream echoing off the surrounding mountains we'd been admiring only minutes earlier. I imagined the pain my death would cause my wife and children, and the horror my wife would feel seeing me disappear, my screams most certainly haunting her for eternity. I suppose I'm not afraid to die; the older I get, the more I think, "Well, when it's my time, it's my time."   I think what actually scares me is dying a painful death.  That makes me a sissy, sure, but there you have it.  The pain, and also- and this is probably ridiculous- the idiotic concern that the way I die

  So here's the final piece of my short story I teased a while ago.  Apologies for leaving most of the story out, but I'm hoping to have this one submitted to a literary journal soon.  Thanks for reading.   "It hurts, daddy.  I don't want you to go!"      "You know I can't stay here, physically, but remember- I'll always be with you."      "Daddy!  Please!" Barb cried.  "I love you!"      "I love you, too, my Barbie," the old man answered.  They hugged, a hug that Barb hoped would last forever.  She remembered how good her father's hugs felt.  She didn't want to let go.        As the kids approached, they found Barbara standing by the driftwood, staring out at the water.  Tears flowed down her cheeks, and she had her arms wrapped around herself.     "Mom, your freezing!"  shouted Travis.  Barbara snapped back to life at the sound of his voice.      "What's the matter, mommy? 

  "The Voices", by F.R. Tallis is creepy reinvention of the classic haunted house tale, and was difficult to put down once I cracked it open.  Eerie responses to taped questions, unfathomable disappearances, baby monitor static and ghostly whisperings culminate in a clash between the here & now and the beyond in a frightful novel that'll give you goose bumps for sure.  Once again, a delightfully dark tale to please my palate.  I finished this one just now with barely enough time to complete my morning routine and head out the door for work, but it was well worth it.

  I like to read. Everything's fair game, from nutrition facts on food labels ( something I occasionally regret paying attention to) to assembly instructions (which I confess I often ignore); from spine tingling novels to tampon instructional leaflets (come on guys, who hasn't done that?  I mean, the box was right there next to the toilet, you're just sitting there anyway, right?).   My point is, I love reading and always wish I had more time for it.  I envy my wife, who can read while there's music blasting nearby, while she's got something she's watching on tv or while I'm babbling to her.  I can only read when I have complete quiet, and usually only in the morning.  I'm too easily distracted to try to read with background noise.  I know most people read in bed at night to help them fall asleep, and I've tried that.  That's the problem, though.  I start to read and can barely get through a paragraph or so before I start nodding off.  When I hav