Synchro
My Dear young friend,
these words will be my last to you in this physical realm. You have begun a new segment of your life and it will scare the pants off you. You will get used to it. You can turn it off but my advice is to use it to enhance your life. Turning it off will take you back to your stagnant old life and you won’t meet that special woman.
Remember Synchro, you don’t have to act on any information you receive. It’s up to you.
I wish you a happy future
Yours sincerely
Edith Buchanan
Her words sat heavily around the empty space inside him.
He pulled out a bottle of red wine from the cupboard and eased out the cork.
Lifting the half-filled glass skyward he said,
“To your memory Edith.”
The liquid warmed his throat. He put the glass on the counter. He felt weighed down by the loss of his friend and the emergence of this unwanted thing. He needed sleep.
Vague thoughts of standing on a cliff with the old Sync pushing him forward into fog drifted away as his head hit the pillow. It was soft and cool under his skin. The coolness was quickly replaced with comforting warmth.
He slept soundly.
Tomorrow he’d need to be sharp as a whip.
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Monday, February 2, 2009
Episode 14: After the Farewell
Synchro
There were a lot of people at the funeral. Obviously she had been well liked. After the service Sync conveyed his condolences to family members and left. He didn’t want to watch as his friend was laid in a hole in the ground. He preferred to remember her as she was when she was lively and smiling. All those cups of tea she’d made and shared with him were happy memories. She always made him feel welcome. Her cheerfulness and kindness when he was troubled, and her unending interest in his life made her special.
He’d miss her for many reasons.
He’d gone back to work after the funeral. He wanted to occupy his mind. He concentrated on receiving stock from suppliers and allotting the goods to the appropriate shelves. Shelves filled the factory to the rafters. He used an electric forklift to stack goods up high. He didn’t usually do the hands on work. Today was different. He needed to do something out of the norm in line with the earlier part of the day. It worked. He was surprised when the others told him to go home. It was five o’clock.
At home the unopened letter lay on the kitchen counter. He tore the top off and pulled out the sheet of paper. The writing on the plain piece of paper was in longhand. The words joined together with slightly jagged lines as if written by a shaking hand.
He sat down and began to read.
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
There were a lot of people at the funeral. Obviously she had been well liked. After the service Sync conveyed his condolences to family members and left. He didn’t want to watch as his friend was laid in a hole in the ground. He preferred to remember her as she was when she was lively and smiling. All those cups of tea she’d made and shared with him were happy memories. She always made him feel welcome. Her cheerfulness and kindness when he was troubled, and her unending interest in his life made her special.
He’d miss her for many reasons.
He’d gone back to work after the funeral. He wanted to occupy his mind. He concentrated on receiving stock from suppliers and allotting the goods to the appropriate shelves. Shelves filled the factory to the rafters. He used an electric forklift to stack goods up high. He didn’t usually do the hands on work. Today was different. He needed to do something out of the norm in line with the earlier part of the day. It worked. He was surprised when the others told him to go home. It was five o’clock.
At home the unopened letter lay on the kitchen counter. He tore the top off and pulled out the sheet of paper. The writing on the plain piece of paper was in longhand. The words joined together with slightly jagged lines as if written by a shaking hand.
He sat down and began to read.
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Episode 13: Goodbye!
Synchro
The constant bipping of the monitor displayed evidence that vital organs were working.
Sync stood beside the bed looking at his friend. The smell of disinfectant penetrated his nostrils with a vengeance in this hour of sadness. Her eyes were closed. She breathed unaided. Her breaths came long and slow with an extended pause in between. Some pauses went on for a long time. He thought she had stopped breathing. Then she’d begin the drawn-out labour of inhaling again.
Edith’s skin had all but lost its colour. Her grey-white hair had been smoothed back onto the pillow. Her wrinkled aged-blotched arms rested on the sheet. It was pulled up to her armpits. A washed up hospital gown covered her to the neck.
It was an impersonal way to end a life without her own things around her. She deserved familiarity at the end.
Sync held her hand. She lacked the warmth he’d come to look forward to on his visits to her flat. Her hand was cold, still.
As he absorbed the sadness a bubble of white light surrounded her. Her life’s details listed in his mind. He didn’t want to know her personal details though such knowledge was irrelevant now. Soon it’s all that would be left of Edith aside from photos and memories. All personal effects would be passed on to family members or sold or donated. He’d become fond of her, had only ever seen her in her own surroundings, with her own things around her. Those images would stay with him forever.
The last detail he received was her date of death, tomorrow.
He looked at his watch. An hour and a half till midnight.
A lump formed in his throat. It was barely audible when he spoke.
“Goodbye my friend.”
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
The constant bipping of the monitor displayed evidence that vital organs were working.
Sync stood beside the bed looking at his friend. The smell of disinfectant penetrated his nostrils with a vengeance in this hour of sadness. Her eyes were closed. She breathed unaided. Her breaths came long and slow with an extended pause in between. Some pauses went on for a long time. He thought she had stopped breathing. Then she’d begin the drawn-out labour of inhaling again.
Edith’s skin had all but lost its colour. Her grey-white hair had been smoothed back onto the pillow. Her wrinkled aged-blotched arms rested on the sheet. It was pulled up to her armpits. A washed up hospital gown covered her to the neck.
It was an impersonal way to end a life without her own things around her. She deserved familiarity at the end.
Sync held her hand. She lacked the warmth he’d come to look forward to on his visits to her flat. Her hand was cold, still.
As he absorbed the sadness a bubble of white light surrounded her. Her life’s details listed in his mind. He didn’t want to know her personal details though such knowledge was irrelevant now. Soon it’s all that would be left of Edith aside from photos and memories. All personal effects would be passed on to family members or sold or donated. He’d become fond of her, had only ever seen her in her own surroundings, with her own things around her. Those images would stay with him forever.
The last detail he received was her date of death, tomorrow.
He looked at his watch. An hour and a half till midnight.
A lump formed in his throat. It was barely audible when he spoke.
“Goodbye my friend.”
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Episode 12: My Friend Edith
Synchro
One outstretched arm resting against the architrave supported him as he puffed. Air rushed in and out of his lungs. Rivulets of sweat trickled down the middle of his back and down the centre of his chest. Patches of sweat spread on his singlet. He knocked rapidly on the door.
Come on Edith where are you?
The door slowly opened.
“Yes?” The eyes belonging to the deep voice inspected Sync. The straight face and down-turned mouth matched the sad eyes.
“Is Edith there?” Sync began to breath normally.
“No, she isn’t,” the man answered dully. “Sadly she had a heart attack last night and is in intensive care. She’s not expected to recover,” he said bluntly.
“Oh. I’m sorry. I live next door. Synchro Reed,” he said extending his right hand.
“David Buchanan,” he said clasping the offered hand. “I’m Edith’s son. There’s an envelope on the table with your name on it. Just a moment.” He disappeared along the hall and returned with envelope in hand.
“I called in to see her the day before yesterday. She seemed fine. What happened?”
“She felt unwell and phoned me to come over. When I got here she was unconscious. The ambulance came quickly.” David’s bottom lip quivered.
“Is it okay if I go to see her?”
David nodded. He couldn’t hold back the tears.
“You’d better hurry.”
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
One outstretched arm resting against the architrave supported him as he puffed. Air rushed in and out of his lungs. Rivulets of sweat trickled down the middle of his back and down the centre of his chest. Patches of sweat spread on his singlet. He knocked rapidly on the door.
Come on Edith where are you?
The door slowly opened.
“Yes?” The eyes belonging to the deep voice inspected Sync. The straight face and down-turned mouth matched the sad eyes.
“Is Edith there?” Sync began to breath normally.
“No, she isn’t,” the man answered dully. “Sadly she had a heart attack last night and is in intensive care. She’s not expected to recover,” he said bluntly.
“Oh. I’m sorry. I live next door. Synchro Reed,” he said extending his right hand.
“David Buchanan,” he said clasping the offered hand. “I’m Edith’s son. There’s an envelope on the table with your name on it. Just a moment.” He disappeared along the hall and returned with envelope in hand.
“I called in to see her the day before yesterday. She seemed fine. What happened?”
“She felt unwell and phoned me to come over. When I got here she was unconscious. The ambulance came quickly.” David’s bottom lip quivered.
“Is it okay if I go to see her?”
David nodded. He couldn’t hold back the tears.
“You’d better hurry.”
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
Friday, January 30, 2009
Episode 11: A Change of Mind
Before today's episode I'd like to show you my writing bio.
The link is at the bottom of the episode.
Now, on with today's installment!
Synchro
It was there but not. Sync stared long and hard. The young man ignored him going about toy retrieval duty. Sync saw a feint white light around the young man. He appeared to be in a bubble of white light. A list of details about him ran through Sync’s mind, like a radio on low volume. The information was everything there was to know about the young man. The date he was born, his partner and children’s names, his job, his income, his hobbies, his date of death, everything. Sync’s heart raced. His skin prickled cold and sweaty. He didn’t want to know the personal details of strangers or anyone for that matter. It was none of his business.
He took off at top speed heading for home.
Zig zagging his way back through the streets he passed a woman with a child. He glanced at them. A bubble of white light surrounded them both. Information poured into his mind. She was in early stage pregnancy, though it wasn’t yet visible with a baby bump, and her grandmother was going to die on the 21st of June. The little boy was going to be a commercial pilot and live to be 97 years-old.
Sync looked away and kept running.
An elderly gent walking with a metal walking-stick came towards him. The old man grinned from ear to ear. A white bubble surrounded him. He was 81 and had this morning successfully had sex with his 59 year old wife. The first time since his heart attack five months earlier.
Sync shielded his eyes so he couldn’t see the man. The information kept coming.
Red faced he ran faster than ever before.
He didn’t want to do this.
He had to stop it, turn it off.
How could he shut it down?
His mind screamed,
“E-e-e-d-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-th!”
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http//:write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
The link is at the bottom of the episode.
Now, on with today's installment!
Synchro
It was there but not. Sync stared long and hard. The young man ignored him going about toy retrieval duty. Sync saw a feint white light around the young man. He appeared to be in a bubble of white light. A list of details about him ran through Sync’s mind, like a radio on low volume. The information was everything there was to know about the young man. The date he was born, his partner and children’s names, his job, his income, his hobbies, his date of death, everything. Sync’s heart raced. His skin prickled cold and sweaty. He didn’t want to know the personal details of strangers or anyone for that matter. It was none of his business.
He took off at top speed heading for home.
Zig zagging his way back through the streets he passed a woman with a child. He glanced at them. A bubble of white light surrounded them both. Information poured into his mind. She was in early stage pregnancy, though it wasn’t yet visible with a baby bump, and her grandmother was going to die on the 21st of June. The little boy was going to be a commercial pilot and live to be 97 years-old.
Sync looked away and kept running.
An elderly gent walking with a metal walking-stick came towards him. The old man grinned from ear to ear. A white bubble surrounded him. He was 81 and had this morning successfully had sex with his 59 year old wife. The first time since his heart attack five months earlier.
Sync shielded his eyes so he couldn’t see the man. The information kept coming.
Red faced he ran faster than ever before.
He didn’t want to do this.
He had to stop it, turn it off.
How could he shut it down?
His mind screamed,
“E-e-e-d-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-th!”
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http//:write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Episode 10: No, No, No!
Synchro
Balancing his day job with his extra-psychical brain-work was exhausting. Three months of ‘practice’ and nothing unusual had happened except brain drain. He was getting bored with it all and tired. He slept so soundly every night he was late leaving for work. He didn’t like hurrying to work. It unsettled his entire day.
At the start of the fourth month his sleep pattern changed. He bounced out of bed each morning full of energy. It lasted throughout the day. His twilight runs extended to double his usual distance. His body felt acutely aware of everything around him. His skin felt the dry atmosphere and sent a detailed evaluation to his brain. It was the same every day no matter what the weather. Sync felt atmospheric variations and deep inside him he sensed change was about to engulf him. He could handle physical changes but this consciousness change was unnerving. The thought excited him and terrified him.
It was the last day of the week. The weekend loomed. He slammed the front door of his flat behind him and started running. He passed people here and there and at first didn’t notice what he saw. Concentrating on his feet as he crossed at the corner where he avoided a series of pot-holes he paused letting a car go by. Off he went zigzagging through back streets racing himself. The air fiddled with his hair, the aroma of dinners cooking in houses he passed tantalised his nose. He stopped briefly, jogging on the spot as he turned around to re-trace his steps. A young man on his front lawn nodded as he picked up children’s toys.
Sync nodded back and watched for a moment. Oh, God! His brain ran in fast-forward. The puffing from his run stopped abruptly. He stood motionless and stared.
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
Balancing his day job with his extra-psychical brain-work was exhausting. Three months of ‘practice’ and nothing unusual had happened except brain drain. He was getting bored with it all and tired. He slept so soundly every night he was late leaving for work. He didn’t like hurrying to work. It unsettled his entire day.
At the start of the fourth month his sleep pattern changed. He bounced out of bed each morning full of energy. It lasted throughout the day. His twilight runs extended to double his usual distance. His body felt acutely aware of everything around him. His skin felt the dry atmosphere and sent a detailed evaluation to his brain. It was the same every day no matter what the weather. Sync felt atmospheric variations and deep inside him he sensed change was about to engulf him. He could handle physical changes but this consciousness change was unnerving. The thought excited him and terrified him.
It was the last day of the week. The weekend loomed. He slammed the front door of his flat behind him and started running. He passed people here and there and at first didn’t notice what he saw. Concentrating on his feet as he crossed at the corner where he avoided a series of pot-holes he paused letting a car go by. Off he went zigzagging through back streets racing himself. The air fiddled with his hair, the aroma of dinners cooking in houses he passed tantalised his nose. He stopped briefly, jogging on the spot as he turned around to re-trace his steps. A young man on his front lawn nodded as he picked up children’s toys.
Sync nodded back and watched for a moment. Oh, God! His brain ran in fast-forward. The puffing from his run stopped abruptly. He stood motionless and stared.
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Episode 9: Decision Made.
Synchro
“I’ll do it,” he announced after he settled on Edith’s lounge-room couch. Oddly she made no discernable acknowledgement. He thought the old girl would gloat because she won. “How do I go about it?”
Edith took her time. She looked at him as if she was seeing something that no-one else had privy too. It wasn’t exactly staring. It was more like an appraisal of something Sync wasn’t aware he had. She’d done it many times before. It was creepy. She seemed to sense his discomfort and began speaking.
“You’ve been blocking it for a long time, since you were a child. You need practice and lots of it. Practice making your mind go blank.”
“How do I do that?”
“Start doing it as you drift off to sleep each night. See in your mind a blank slate, a clean page, a TV with the power turned off or something else you can relate to. First thing in the morning as you rouse out of sleep before your day begins, do it again.”
Her instructions went on and on.
His head was spinning as she walked him to the front door. On the top step Sync turned back to her.
“When will this perfect woman come into my life?”
She shook her head.
“Impatience won’t help,” she smiled. “You’ll know the first time you see her.”
Edith closed the door.
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
“I’ll do it,” he announced after he settled on Edith’s lounge-room couch. Oddly she made no discernable acknowledgement. He thought the old girl would gloat because she won. “How do I go about it?”
Edith took her time. She looked at him as if she was seeing something that no-one else had privy too. It wasn’t exactly staring. It was more like an appraisal of something Sync wasn’t aware he had. She’d done it many times before. It was creepy. She seemed to sense his discomfort and began speaking.
“You’ve been blocking it for a long time, since you were a child. You need practice and lots of it. Practice making your mind go blank.”
“How do I do that?”
“Start doing it as you drift off to sleep each night. See in your mind a blank slate, a clean page, a TV with the power turned off or something else you can relate to. First thing in the morning as you rouse out of sleep before your day begins, do it again.”
Her instructions went on and on.
His head was spinning as she walked him to the front door. On the top step Sync turned back to her.
“When will this perfect woman come into my life?”
She shook her head.
“Impatience won’t help,” she smiled. “You’ll know the first time you see her.”
Edith closed the door.
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
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