Amy M. Schaefer
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From the Front Porch

I am an "accidental blogger". When I launched my writing career in March of 2014, one of the things that I decided to include was my journaling, which I have always found to be a comforting and therapeutic endeavor.  It was a big risk to open myself up in such a public forum, but it has taught me that, for the most part, we share far more experiences than we think. It's comforting to know I'm not alone!  (*the "Button Text" is the link to my first novel)
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Day Thirty-eight: The Muse Invasion Via Dream Portals

12/10/2014

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A light spilled out into the dark hallway. Inside was the lab where my egg and his sperm had been harvested, incubated...the infant boy was now ready, the scientist holding his little perfection in her arms. He looked up at her, inspecting her face with eyes more wise than they should have been. It made the scientist uncomfortable that the baby didn't cry. Why wasn't he crying? His father stood hidden in the shadows, watching, waiting. The scientist put the boy into a little plastic crib and set a colorful object on the counter close by. It looked like some strange toy, about three inches long with little tuning knobs that turned in altering directions. It looked like a toy, but in truth it was the key to the salvation or damnation of the human race. Destruction was coming soon, and all the records in the lab must be purged or secured before she made her escape, so the scientist went to work. As she pulled files from a chest in a back room, flinging aside the ones that were not crucial to the operation, a loud explosion rattled the windows and walls. Now was the time! The man in the hall ran into the room, scooped up his son and the object on the counter, and took off down the hall towards the launch bay. People were running and screaming, nobody stopping to question the man dressed in a flight suit who had frequented these same halls many times over the past three years, stationed here with his Unit, most of whom were probably dead.

More explosions could be heard as the man fired up the ship to make his escape. When the engines didn't start right away, he swore viciously. He was running out of time and in this mission, failure was not an option. He refused to look over at the boy he'd only learned about a month prior, when he'd inadvertently uncovered documents about the operation so heinous it made him want to vomit. The woman he loved, held in an internment camp, locked in a cage for a year, her eggs stolen in ways he didn't even want to think about because of the violent rage it threatened to unleash. Experiments done on those in his Unit, sperm collected and genetic manipulations of the sperm/egg combinations of the other women also being held captive who were part of a covert "breeding operation" to create super soldiers that would be trained then unleashed on the entire world.

Finally, the engines cranked, the craft lifting wobbly off the bay floor. He punched it and flew through black clouds of smoke, a myriad of buildings burning on the ground. "Too late," he thought. "I'm going to be too late," he sped to the spot at the back of the compound where the white building holding the captives was located. Thank God it was still in tact, but most of the things around it had been destroyed. He landed the craft on the roof and raced down to the wing where the prisoners were, opening doors and barking at them, "Get out!" He found me, there on the floor, curled up in a ball. His hands shook when he reached out, stroking my hair. "We've gotta go, babe," he said, his voice almost frantic. I turned, looking up at him in complete disbelief, but before I could speak, he reached down, yanked me up off the floor, picked me up and ran for the stairs to the roof. He climbed into the craft with me and gently put me down next to the drawer holding the babe. He quickly kissed the top of my head, whispering, "You need a bath, woman," and smiled, his words making me smile back weakly at him. We were all about to die and he was worried that I smelled gamey? Suddenly, a loud roar shook the craft and the building beneath it began to sink. "Time to go," he said, almost falling into the pilot's seat and punching the controls, sending the craft into a vertical climb that rattled his bones. I didn't know where we were going or if we'd live long enough to get there, but I didn't care. I'd been rescued from the nightmare that had become my life, and even if I only had five minutes of freedom, it would be enough.


Today, I am happy for a head full of dreams (even frightening ones) that inspire me. The dream above, that I had last night, is going to be a future Sci-fi novel!

*Images from inside-the-brain.com & kimoz.deviantart.com.

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    About The Author

    I grew up in rural North Carolina. When I was only nineteen, I moved away and became a military wife. My only aspiration at that tender time in my life was to create an adult life that "fixed" all of the "injustices" of my childhood. Secretly, however, I wanted to reach for the sky! I wanted to be a writer and find ways to "save the world" (my mother used to say, "You have Save the World Syndrome".). Mostly, I wanted to matter.

    Since then, I have learned to reach well beyond what I ever dared to think was possible. I've learned not to allow fear to stop me from whatever future I want to create!

    What keeps me grounded? My Tribe! What provides the wind beneath my wings? A well of reserves filled with unstoppable passion!

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  • Amy M. Schaefer, Writer
  • Blog: From the Front Porch
  • Novels
  • Short Stories
    • Children's Books
  • About the Author
  • Contact
  • Photo & Art Gallery