Category Archives: My Writing
International Christian Retail Show Wrapup
So, why didn’t I say much about Tuesday?
Because, I CAN’T!
Let’s just say I was part of some very special, very shocking (but not to God) developments for my future as an author and I’m still pinching myself. I’m still in shock. I’m still overwhelmed as much by the possibilities that were presented to me (and a certain co-author) and the awesome way in which God brought all of this to fruition. It is truly a tale worthy of Christian fiction but in this case all true. And, one day soon, I hope I can share the details!
So, the rest of the ICRS show was a blur after Tuesday morning. What is it like going to this show? Let me give you some quick idea.
1. When in line for a book signing you will be overwhelmed by authors pitching their books. I was once a self-published author and, frankly, I admire their guts for being so bold to promote themselves. After a while I had to burst their bubbles by telling them, “I’m NOT a retailer. I’m an author.” At which point they realized I wasn’t going to carry their book in a store I didn’t run. So, they moved on. I prayed for each and everyone one of these self-published authors.
2. ICRS does so many things very, very well. But, what it doesn’t do well is to advertise book signings. This is left up to each individual publisher. So, if you don’t go by their booth and see their sign for that day’s book signings, you will miss out. When I went to Book Expo America, the main publishing show of the year for all of publishing, there was a list of all book signings at all booths. Now, maybe such a list existed, but if it did, I never heard about it and it wasn’t listed on my iPhone app (another great development by ICRS). I was fortunate to meet Charles Martin, Ted Dekker, Tosca Lee, Martha Rogers, and Os Guiness. But, I missed out on a whole list of authors I would have loved to meet. Oh, and the books are free and often pre-releases not yet available. If you miss your author, chances are there will be a pile of unsigned books you can snag if you want an advanced copy.
3.There are two good organizations out there every Christian fiction author should know about. One, of course, is the ACFW, the American Christian Fiction Writers and the CAN, Christian Author’s Network. Both of them had a presence at ICRS and both of them promoted authors to the retailers.
4. Take a rolling bag. You will get loaded up with free books and media and trinkets. A nice touch this year (as opposed to 2008) was the shipping section in the back corner. For 12 dollars a box, you could put a cardboard box with your name on it on one of dozens of tables and come back and fill it up as you gathered books. Then, before leaving the show, you could take the box over to the FEDEX table in the same corner and ship your books home. This was a GREAT idea! I won $600 worth of books from CAN and I was able to ship two boxes back. But, I kept my signed copies of books from Charles Martin, Ted Dekker, Tosca Lee, and Os Guiness with me. I don’t want to lose them.
5. The ICRS is overwhelming from the kids running around handing out leaflets to the old man blowing the ram’s horn every thirty minutes to the loud raucous presentations at “Town Center” to the music playing in the music aisles. By the second day, I was shell shocked. There is no way to describe how overwhelming the atmosphere can be. It is exciting and challenging and humbling and tiring all at the same time. If you are an author, you can become a CBA member as an “industry professional” and you can make appointments with major publishers to pitch your ideas. You can learn a lot about the distribution side of publishing. You can learn a lot about how stores handle selling ebooks, for instance. And, if the timing is right and God has ordained, you might wander into the biggest proposal of your life!!!
One final picture with a man I have enormous respect for as an author and an apologist, Os Guiness:
Until next year, I’m hanging up my dress walking shoes and putting away the frazzled rolling bag and putting my own cards for “The 12th Demon” on the shelf and I’m taking a much deserved nap. Because tomorrow, there is WORK to be done!!!
CBA/ICRS — Tosca, Ted, and Charles, oh my! The Afternoon Part 2
Now, after lunch, the fun began!
I ran into Debbie Strang at the Charisma Media booth and she took me over to a shelf and showed me a mockup of my upcoming book, “The 12th Demon: Mark of the Wolf Dragon”. I cannot begin to tell anyone what it is like to hold your next book in your hands! It was awesome as you can see by my smile in this picture.
Then, Atalie, part of the Charisma team, told me that Matthew West was signing copies of his CD single RIGHT NOW! So, having just heard Matthew, I followed Atalie and got in line. She had to leave to go meet with the next author for his book signing and asked me to get her an autographed copy. It was interesting standing in line for a short while with her and a team member from Tyndale and listen to their “inside scoops” of prominent authors such as James Scott and lots of romance writers whose names you would instantly recognize. Then Atalie was off and I was standing in front of Matthew West. I told him how much his song meant to me and how I appreciate his desire to tell the stories all around us. He then looked at the card with my book cover on it (12th demon) and asked all about my book. He took a card and said he would read it when it came out. We’ll see!
I then took Atalie her CD and headed over to the FaithWords booth to get in line to see Tosca Lee and Ted Dekker — the biggest names right now in Speculative Christian Fiction.
Now, several weeks ago, I wrote a review of “Thunder and Rain” by Charles Martin. He is, without a doubt, one of my favorite top 5 authors. As I walked up to the booth, I spied a pile of “Thunder and Rain” books. I was stunned! Was Charles Martin here? I asked the man piling up the books and he pointed right behind me. There was Charles Martin talking to his wife. I had just missed his book signing. But, being an opportunist, I grabbed a book and, like a trembling fanboy, asked Charles to sign my book. He was gracious and funny and signed my book while I hemmed and hawed and tittered and giggled. I finally got control over myself and we had a nice conversation about his writing, his books, and the fact I was an author.
Then, heart pounding, I got in line for Tosca Lee and Ted Dekker. I handed Tosca my card with my book cover on it because I had written my name and my wife’s name on the back. At my book signings, I always have people write down the name they want the book dedicated to. This avoids any misspellings. Now, while in line, I spied “The Sanctuary”, Ted Dekker’s newest solo book and the front cover was suspiciously similar to the cover of “The 12th Demon” with an arched doorway just as my book had. I spoke with Tosca and Ted both about my book and when Tosca turned the card over, Ted’s mouth fell open. He jerked the card out of her hand and stared at MY cover. Tosca said something about how much it looked like his newest book cover. Ted looked up at me.
“Who did this cover?”
“The awesome graphic designers at Charisma Media.” I replied.
“This is better than my cover!”
So, here is a shout out to the graphic designers at Charisma. Ted Dekker loves the cover design for MY book! Way to go! I walked away proud to be an author for Charisma!!!
And, at that point, I had to leave and go pick up my daughter at the airport. But, it was an incredibly, unbelievable, fulfilling day at ICRS. And, tomorrow will be better!
ICRS — Christian Booksellers Association Show – Monday Morning
I parked in the West Parking Lot and after walking across the world, I arrived at the International Retail Christian Show. If you have never been, it is OVERWHELMING! A huge exhibit floor filled with all kinds of media companies. I was wandering down the hallway in front of the main exhibit hall and noticed the B&H Publishing room off the hallway. Now, I have a book with B&H, “Conquering Depression” published in 2001. Not many people know this, but Mark Sutton, my co-author, and I are considering an update of the book at the urgings of our agent, Jeff Jernigan.
I wandered into the room and instantly met with two wonderful people who recognized my name and told me they have been considering an update to the book! I can’t go into the details, but within 15 minutes of arriving, I already had a meeting scheduled with B&H over the future of my depression book.
Next, I entered the main exhibit hall and for the first hour, I went from booth to booth meeting other publishers and a few authors signing books. At the American Christian Fiction Wo
rkshop booth, there were a plethora of Christian fiction authors answering questions. I ran into this kid dressed like an old school newspaper cryer handing out information. I am now sitting in the “Town Center” listening to a presentation by the Christian Author Network.
I’ll continue to keep updating the blog throughout the day. Right now, I’m already tired and I’ve been here only an hour!!!!
International Christian Retailers Show Weekend
This weekend I am flying down to Orlando. Again.
I visit Orlando, Florida about six times a year. First, there is Walt Disney World which I visit about four times a year. Second, there is my co-author, best friend, and former pastor Mark Sutton who is now involved in his own ministry to Haiti (link). Third, my publisher, Charisma Media is in Sanford, Florida just north of Orlando and I like to visit them once or twice a year. It’s good to put a face to the name and it is good to get a feel of the organization for which you write. And, the people at Charisma are outstanding!
But, this trip is special. I will be attending the International Christian Retail Show. What is that? Here is a description from their website:
The International Christian Retail Show is where the Christian resources industry meets – and there are a lot of reasons why. There is no other time or place where so many people, products, services, media, authors, artists, and craftspeople are gathered together in one place.
To say this gathering is awe inspiring, daunting, and, yes, exhausting is an understatement. Exhibit after exhibit from all kinds of publishers, retailers, marketers fill the Orange County Exhibit Center and it will take three days to see everything. But, what I really love about this gathering is the chance to see and hear new media. Concerts and film showings will go on the entire time. My wife and I were fortunate to attend the 2008 gathering and we were stunned to hear a concert one evening that featured Jeremy Camp, The Annie Moses Band, Nicole Mullen, Natalie Grant, and others. All in one concert!!! I can’t wait to see what is in store this year.
So, join me each day beginning Sunday for a report from the exhibit floor of the International Christian Retail Show and I’ll tell YOU what to expect in the music and book stores this fall!
UPDATE
If you happen to get your hands on the ICRS magazine for July look on page 72! Awesome ad!
If you want to get in touch with me, I’ll be on the exhibit floor Monday and Tuesday. Just use the contact button to send me an email, a test message, or give me a call.
Get one of my cards:
See you there!!!!
Apologetics and Christian Fiction
Back in April, I was invited to speak on the intersection of apologetics and Christian fiction. I’ve been invited to present again in August at the Athanatos Ministry’s Writing Conference and I’ll bring you more information on that later. I will be changing up this presentation for that conference so I thought I’d post the Vimeo feed of my presentation.
Here are the topics I cover:
What is Hutchmoot?
Walter Wangerin, Jr. on Story
C. S. Lewis’ “The Great Divorce”
A Review of current novels that utilize apologetics:
“The Night of the Living Dead Christian” by Matt Mikalatos
“The Skin Map” by Stephen R. Lawhead
“The Resurrection” by Mike Duran
“The 13th Demon: Altar of the Spiral Eye” by Bruce Hennigan
“The God Hater” by Bill Myers
Enjoy
WAITING!!???!!!
I hate waiting.
My father, who will turn 98 tomorrow, was in the ER twice in the past week. Both times, he was in congestive heart failure which means his lungs were full of fluid. I had been in the same ER the week before that with a possible heart attack (all was normal). But, I was getting tired of sitting around and WAITING for something to happen. Turns out my father had eaten two cans of potted meat and each can had 890 milligrams of sodium. His daily limit is 100! All that salt had thrown him in fluid overload.
I had a trip planned last week with my daughter and two sisters to Disney World in Orlando to experience Star Wars Weekends. Both of my sisters decided to stay in town and take care of my father. I had promised my daughter a trip so just the two of us went.
I am a veteran of Disney World and when I tell you that the parks were more crowded than I had ever seen them, that is saying a lot! Rides that no one would get on that usually had no line were upwards of 20 to 30 minutes wait time! I was WAITING again!
To make matters worse, it was raining when we landed on Tuesday evening and it rained continuously until Sunday morning. The last morning in Animal Kingdom was hot and sunny and we only had two hours! But, the real WAIT for me was WAITING for yesterday to arrive.
My daughter, Casey, is now 25 and she has suffered from epilepsy since age 8. Our last neurologist in our home town basically “fired” us and refused to take care of Casey anymore because he was getting out of the business of treating epilepsy. Problem is, in this town with four universities, a nursing school, and a medical school there were NO other neurologists treating adult epilepsy! I could not believe it. It took us four months to find someone and the closest neurologist was in New Orleans, a five hour drive away. So, Casey had an appointment with this new neurologist yesterday. My wife had to stay at home with her mother (who lives with us) so she didn’t get to experience all the magical WAITING in Disney World in a drenching deluge. She drove down to New Orleans Sunday evening and I had to drop my daughter off at a different airport to catch a nonstop flight to New Orleans from Orlando. My flight back to Shreveport was at a different airport.
Watching my daughter, even at the age of 25, walk away from the car into the huge Orlando International Airport alone was one of the hardest things I had to do. Knowing she faced a new doctor the next day and a possible barrage of tests didn’t make it any easier. I was a basket case. I was WAITING again to make sure her flight made it; WAITING again to hear from my wife that she had picked Casey up at the airport. Let’s face it. In today’s world a single young woman traveling alone is ALWAYS at risk!
I arrived at home Sunday evening and my wife’s sister had returned from her vacation to come and stay at our house to take care of her mother. My wife called me later than I wanted her to and told me all was well. But, Casey had a major breakdown once she picked her up at the airport and the two of them spent an hour crying. They were WAITING as well for the next day.
Let me make it plainer. My daughter’s life is rough. She has these “auras” off and on during the day where her mouth will suddenly stop working and she can’t say what is in her brain. Sometimes this lasts for a minute; sometimes for 30 minutes. She has these flashes of light and feelings of “electricity” running through her brain. She has always suffered from the social stigma of being someone with “seizures” and her time in high school was mostly horrific. She worked her tail off just to graduate and every time she gets a break, it seems someone comes along and kicks her in the gut. But, she is a trooper and one of the strongest people I know. I just want my daughter to have a chance at a normal life. Is that too much to ask? It seems my entire family is WAITING.
My wife tells me over the phone that she had a breakthrough this past week. She was worrying and fretting over Casey and the new doctor. She and I had made the realization together that we had done everything possible a parent could do to help our child. Her breakthrough was in realizing that Casey is God’s child, too. And, that God is in control and loves her more than we can ever love her. When she made that breakthrough, she found peace. I was bitter. I had not had this kind of breakthrough. I was still mad and upset and, frankly, WAITING for God to do SOMETHING to help Casey! I did not have peace.
At that moment, another call came in and it was my co-author and one of my best friends in the world, Mark Sutton. Mark was our former pastor and is now retired in Orlando working with Haitians. I had seen him and his wife Donna just the Friday night before while in Orlando. I took his call and told my wife I’d call her right back. What did Mark have to say? Turns out our agent has some inside line to a possible “sequel” book to our “Conquering Depression”. Mark wanted to talk to me briefly about some work we needed to do on the concept because he was going out of the country the next day for his anniversary. I told him I was “discomboobilated” about the whole thing because I couldn’t think past the next day.
Guess what he told me? “Bruce, you need to stop worrying about this new book idea. God is in control. He knows what we need to do and I know you hate WAITING, but God will work it all out. He is in control!”
I almost started crying. Here, in less than two minutes, God had told me twice what I needed to hear. I am NOT in control. That is why I am always WAITING. God is in control and I needed to give up my anxiety to God and let him give me peace. Okay God, I get it!
Fast forward to Monday and a very hectic day back at work and once again WAITING to hear from my wife. She gives me a call at 3 PM that afternoon. And, she drops me a bombshell. This new neurologist is not 100% certain, but he believes that Casey doesn’t have epilepsy but has been suffering from migraines! I couldn’t believe my ears! Migraines? Really? We’ve been treating my daughter for years for epilepsy and all the time she has had migraines? In fact, her medicine for seizures can cause migraines!!!!
So, today, I am once again WAITING for the neurologist to call me and to look at all of Casey’s EEGs. But, this man is more knowledgeable than any doctor she has seen. He specializes in adult epilepsy. I am hoping and praying he is right. Because if he is, then Casey can get off of her epilepsy medicine and have a normal life. We can all stop WAITING.
Today, I am pausing to thank God. He is in control. Man has failed time and time again especially with regard to my daughter. The circumstances that led us to this doctor are phenomenal and clearly impossible without the intervening hand of God. It took years, but we may finally have an answer and an answered prayer.
WAITING? Join the club and remember my favorite verse in all the world:
But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint. Isaiah 40:31
Swinging on a Star
A tribute to Ray Bradbury
SWINGIN’ ON A STAR
by Bruce Hennigan
The wind whispered secrets down the cold, dark alleyway and Tasha listened. The secrets came from the lips of angels.
“Listen, Suzie, cain’t you hear the angels talking?” Tasha whispered.
Suzie pulled her little sister closer to her. “Ain’t no angels, Tash. Ain’t no angels anywhere in this world. Only devils. We got to get out of here.”
Tasha wiped her runny nose and glanced back down the alleyway. Mist swirled around the trash containers and pulsed with the red and green of exit signs. “But, they gonna tell us how to get home. We lost, ain’t we?”
Suzie stopped at the opening to the city street and her eyes were drawn to the huddled figures moving monotonously down the neon splashed sidewalks. Grizzled faces with tinted eyes bore down on them. “If we can just find the subway, we be all right.”
The tinkle of metal and glass echoed from behind them. Tasha hugged her older sister’s leg. “The angels done gone, Suzie. They ain’t behind us no more. I’m scared.”
Suzie glanced over her shoulder at the menacing maw of the alleyway. Its dim eyes glowed in the mist and its jaws paused to close. She stepped out onto the open street into the arms of perdition.
The man jostled them and his smell encircled them in warm, redolent odor. His toothless grin shown through a cloud of gagging mist. Suzie pulled away from him with her hand gripped on Tasha’s. They ran. They bumped down the street from body to body, bouncing against the grim reminders of humanity caught between divinity and condemnation.
Suzie pulled them into an alcove. A dirty glass window was behind them plastered with obscenities.
“What we gonna do, Suzie?” Tasha sniffled.
“We ain’t going back, that’s for sure. Toby gonna sell us for drugs.”
“I miss Momma.”
Suzie pulled the tiny face against her stained overcoat. “Me, too, Tash. Momma up with the angels.”
Tasha’s face lit up. “If we listen to the angels, maybe Momma can tell us where to go.”
Suzie frowned. “Maybe so, Tash. But, we ain’t going back to Toby. We don’t even know if he our daddy.”
Tasha pulled her knit cap up to expose her ears and glanced skyward. “Maybe we ain’t listenin’ hard enough.”
Suzie’s eyes drifted upward, above the misted detritus of humanity shuffling down the street, above the crumbling bricks and mortar of a dream gone bad to the clear, star filled night. The space station arced in perfect serenity. She remembered the dead dreams of a tiny, idealistic girl, eyes drawn to the possibilities of worlds virgin with pristine future. Dreams that had died in a crack haze of insanity and evil.
“I think those angels done got tired of listening to us humans. We done worn out our welcome.”
“Tasha! Suzie!” A hoarse voice echoed down the street.
Suzie’s heart raced and she pulled Tasha to her. “Toby!”
They pulled back into the darkness of the alcove. Her feet were paralyzed with fear and suddenly the promising stars were eclipsed by chipped paint, crumbling brick, and misty haze. A hulking figure shadowed the sidewalk and Toby stepped out of the mist. His yellow eyes glowed with drug fever as he scanned the streets until they fell on the girls.
“There you heathens are. Why you run away from Toby?” He leaned forward and his rancid breath filled the alcove. “I got some candy for you.” His hands were behind his back.
Tasha looked up at Suzie. “We don’t want none of your candy.”
“Leave us alone, Toby. We don’t need you no more.”
Toby’s grin faded to a leer of insane resolution. “Then you won’t be needing this candy.” His hands came out and Suzie saw the glint of light on metal. A gun and a pair of handcuffs. “Now let’s put on these bracelets, little girls. I got some friends want to meet you.”
Light cracked somewhere inside Suzie’s mind; star light, hope light, angel light and through the cloying mist she watched a star move across the cityscape, promising hope and redemption. She kicked out viciously and drove into her foot all the anger and desperation of a world that had lost its promise, lost its heart. Toby collapsed in sudden pain and writhed on the ground. Suzie jerked Tasha behind her and they ran over Toby’s writhing body out into the mist.
“We got to run, Tash. We got to run and never stop.”
Tasha clambered after her as her eyes misted with tears. “But I can’t hear the angels, Suzie. We gotta stop and listen.”
“We ain’t stopping, Tash. We ain’t never gonna stop.”
Figures began to materialize out of the mist, down the street, across the street. Somewhere behind them, Toby’s angry cursing bounced from brick walls. Tash stumbled and Suzie lost her. The tiny girl disappeared into the mist. She slid to a stop and ran back along a chain link fence. No Tasha. Toby was coming. A gap in the chain link fence appeared from the mist. A tiny shred of fabric from Tasha’s coat was caught on the rusted metal. Suzie squeezed through the gap and pulled it back together. Furiously she knitted the rusted, twisted metal edges together. She backed away into the mist and prayed that Tasha was somewhere within the fence. Toby’s hulking figure rocketed by them, mist swirling behind him. She held her breath. Toby didn’t come back.
Suzie stood suspended in the low lying haze with her breath coming quickly and her heart racing. She calmed and paused to listen. To listen for an angel. A creaking sounded somewhere behind her. She stepped out of the mist into a clearing. A playground surrounded her. It was long abandoned filled with rusted metal frameworks like skeletons of dead beasts, dead hopes.
“Tasha.” She whispered loudly. The creaking continued. Tasha sat in an old swing with her head bobbing down and then up. “Tasha, what are you doing?”
Tasha turned her face and her eyes bright with hope. “The angels, Suzie. They told me to reach up.” The words waxed and waned as Tasha swung up and back. “See that star. See it way up there.”
Suzie squinted in the darkness and spied a bright, pulsing star halfway up the horizon hovering above the misty horror of this world. “They say if I can touch it with my foot, if I can swing high enough, I can go there. Momma’s there. She’s an angel and she’s helping them learn about God and goodness and all. They want us to go there, too.”
Suzie moaned in sorrow and collapsed on the ground. Tasha moved higher and higher. “Tasha, that ain’t gonna happen. Momma ain’t no angel. She ain’t on no planet in the sky. She dead. And, so are we. We can’t go on running.”
Tasha seemed not to hear, stretching her foot farther out on each upward swing. “I almost got it, Suzie. I almost touched it. Come on, you gotta go, too. Momma’s waiting. All you gotta do is try. Don’t give up hope now.”
Suzie felt the tears begin and the dam broke on months of hidden sorrow. Her heart fell as the cadence of the creaking swing increased. “There ain’t no hope, no more, Tash. There ain’t no angels.”
Light gushed around her, brighter than noonday sun, burning away the mist in a sudden gulp of warm air. A giggle echoed in the air and darkness returned. The swing tumbled down and was empty and stilled.
Suzie rushed to the empty swing. “Tash? Tash?” Her eyes darted around the playground. It was empty and barren. She blinked away the burning aftermath of light as her heart raced.
“No! Don’t leave me, too. Tasha, don’t leave me!” Tears clouded her vision. Behind her, out in the desperate street she heard metal screech. Toby had found her. She glanced up at the star pulsing with hope and promise in the night; the star holding out the welcoming hand of a future and a hope. She climbed into the swing.
Lights in the Sky and Little Green Aliens — A Contest!
The night sky was black velvet sprinkled with a million tiny diamonds. It was mid June and the air was thick with the fragrance of honeysuckle. Fireflies blinked lazily in the darkness. Crickets and frogs sang their choral arrangement to the heavens.
I was two hundred feet from the warm, yellow pool of light at the back door of my house, wrapped in inky darkness. At age ten, I was definitely creeped out by the dark, especially the kind of dark we had in the country. I could barely see my hands in front of my face as I emptied the trash into our trash bin.
The crickets stopped. The frogs fell silent. The night smothered me in deafening humidity and above me, the stars were eclipsed by something blacker than black; darker than dark moving above the tree limbs. I gasped for breath, paralyzed with fear as the thing moved silently across the heavens; heavy and ominous. My hair stood on end and I could hardly breath.
I dropped the trash can and fumbled in my pocket for the matches I had brought to burn the trash. The small box of matches exploded under my clumsy efforts and matches showered away into darkness. One was left barely hanging in the box. I grabbed it and stroked it against the side of the box. The blue sparks were swallowed by the night. Finally, the match burst into flame; brighter than the sun pushing the night away. I dropped it into paper wadded in the trash bin and the trash caught fire, light spilling all over me. I looked up. The stars were back. The crickets and frogs tuned up slowly and returned to their symphony. I ran to the back door, into the porch light, into the house and back to sanity.
I don’t know what I saw that night. For years, I tried to reason my way around the object that hovered above me. I knew that our house, although far away in the country often had airplanes fly over from the nearby Barksdale Air Force Base. Maybe it was an experimental aircraft. Maybe it was a weather balloon. All I know is it was an unidentified flying object; a UFO.
I am currently writing the fourth book in the Jonathan Steel Chronicles. It will be about UFOs, aliens, and alien abduction. Based on the information in one of my favorite books, “Lights in the Sky and Little Green Men” I hope to explore the mythology of UFOs and E.T.s.
I am announcing a special contest beginning today and ending in two weeks. I want to hear your stories. Have you ever seen a UFO? Have you ever had a “close encounter”? For the next two weeks, I would like for you to send me your story. Include your name and address and the top ten entries, as judged by me, will receive an autographed copy of “The 13th Demon: Altar of the Spiral Eye”.
I will publish the top ten stories in this blog in the month of July so look to the night sky and tell me about your special “encounter” with a UFO!!!! Send your stories via the contact tab.
Wreckage
Each weekend, I will post a short, short piece. This weekend comes courtesy of storypraxis.com and today’s prompt for writing “wreckage”.
Wreckage
“No life signs, sir.” I waved my sensor screen at my Captain.
“In this wreckage I hope not.” Captain Scarn motioned for the salvage team to move into the broken walls and shattered stained glass. “If you find anyone alive, I want to know.”
The salvage team consisted of five soldiers in gray and black hazard gear. As they moved into the collapsed building, I watched their beams swing back and forth in the darkness. Here and there, the beams played over the broken faces of icons, statues, and gargoyles.
“What do you think, Beal?” Scarn asked as he checked his blaster.
I studied my screen carefully. Five points of red moved across the 3D readout as the salvage team dispersed throughout the structure. “What do I think about what, sir?”
“About our mission.” Captain Scarn glared at me and even through his partially opaque helmet I could see the fury in his eyes.
“Sir, I’m just a soldier. I do what I am told.” I averted my gaze. That glare made me uncomfortable. Scarn was ruthless.
“Soldiers can think, Beal. You have my permission to speak. After all, you’re more than just a grunt. You’re a healer.”
The salvage team was nearing the far side of the large chamber before us. My heart began to race. I swallowed and was glad Scarn couldn’t see the sweat trickling down my face. “As a healer, I can never condone the taking of a human life. My job is to heal. My oath is to ‘do no harm’.”
Scarn’s laughter rattled over the speakers in my helmet. “Do no harm? Isn’t that what the occupants of this building were supposed to believe? Turn the other cheek. Love thy enemy. Do no repay evil with evil.”
I glanced at him. “I didn’t realize you knew scripture.”
Scarn leaned toward me and his face twisted in hatred. “I KNOW my enemy, Beal. I don’t love them. I destroy them. Intolerance will not be tolerated!”
I nodded and watched as the five red spots simultaneously disappeared from my sensor screen. I angled it away so Scarn would not see it. Now, it was my turn. “Sir, why do we kill these people?”
Scarn snorted. “They’ve killed millions over the centuries. They and their ilk. Doesn’t matter what their theology. Doesn’t matter who their god is. All religion leads to destruction. Fanaticism must be extinguished.”
I gazed over the debris of Notre Dame Cathedral. This had been my home. This had been my abode for a thousand years. This had been my purpose. And, now it lay broken and ruined beneath the Captain’s artillery. All destroyed in the name of Intolerance. Green pinpoints of light appeared at the edge of the screen and Scarn jerked his helmet in my direction.
“What is that?”
“There are over a dozen, sir. And, they are moving this way.”
“Those are not our men.”
I turned toward him and let the skin slide away from my face; felt the bones and muscles shift into stone and mortar and brick and vengeance. My snout and horns burst through my helmet and it fell away in pieces. I tossed the motion grid aside and my claws tore through the gloves. Scarn fumbled for his blaster and I swiped it away with one quick motion.
“We are the protectors, Scarn. We are the reason they can turn the other cheek. Because we don’t have to.” I slammed my clawed hand through his helmet and crushed his skull in one fluid movement. My brother gargoyles appeared behind me.
Scarn’s body collapsed onto the broken stones of Notre Dame Cathedral and a bit of prismed moonlight glimmered through the remnants of the stained glass to paint his broken face in reds and blues.
“Sorry. We couldn’t tolerate you anymore.”
All Hearts Eventually Stop!
Mortality versus morbidity.
Strange words unless you are in the health care field.
Morbidity is the bad things that happen during a disease.
Mortality is death, pure and simple.
Some diseases have high morbidity but low mortality. They have really bad symptoms but you can get over them. Some diseases have low morbidity and high mortality because you die so quickly, you don’t suffer.
A month ago my nephew, Ronald Ennis, M.D. died suddenly at the age of 48. He was a pathologist in Dennison, Texas and was well respected and well loved by his friends and family. Ronald is one of those rare success stories of children who have a difficult childhood but rise above it to excel. Ronald was one of the kindest people I have ever known. Even though he lived hours away in Dennison, Texas every Christmas he would come to see my mother and daddy and bring them a fruit basket. He loved my mother and father.
I’m not sure what happened to Ronald. His father’s family history is rife with early deaths in the fifties of his uncles from heart disease. And, his father has had heart disease. So, it seems he took a shower and was getting ready for work and just dropped dead. His wife and daughter found him. This is never a good thing for any wife or child to remember. But, I will recall and remember Ronald fondly as one of the nicest, most motivated, hardest working people I ever knew.
That is why this past Tuesday while walking in the heat I felt the call of mortality. No morbidity, just mortality. I started having chest pains during my walk and they were not getting any easier. I’ve never had such pains and I stopped to ask a yard man if I could use his cell phone. Within 45 minutes, I was in the ER with a dozen or so health care personnel swarming over me. I knew I had already beaten the odds. Most massive heart attacks never survive the first thirty minutes. My chest pain was getting better on its own before I ever got the first shot of morphine. But, quite a bit of thinking occurred during those hours.
Have I really done for God what I should do? For, I believe with all my heart and mind and soul that only work done for God that has eternal consequences and that touches people is worth your time and effort. All else will fade.
Do my friends and family know I love them? I’ll never forget taking my kids to Sears when they were preteens and having the check out lady ask them if I had told them “I love you” today. I was proud when both of them said yes. For, that is something I say to my kids every time we talk. “I love you” can be the hardest words to utter and yet the most powerful.
What will be my legacy? We all wonder if we will be remembered. I was in the middle of finishing up a major rewrite on my fourth book. I left the manuscript open and unsaved when I went for a walk. What would happen if I did not return to finish it? Would anyone know what I was trying to say in my book? Would anyone care? I realized that the most important legacy I can leave is to know that I responded to God’s invitation to join Him in His work, not MY work. I learned a hard lesson when I went through my depression and my daily prayer is that I do what God wills for me to do today! I hope that is what people will remember about Bruce Hennigan. I know my books will never be “literature” and will never be required reading. But, through my writing, God has used me to touch people’s lives and has used those words to change people.
Am I about to die? As I was placed on the cardiac catheterization table, I was crying. I am a physician. I know all too well every conceivable outcome and consequence. I know the morbidity and the mortality! I prayed a simple prayer. “God give me the courage to face this with the faith and knowledge that Your will is done whether I wake up after the procedure; wake up after surgery; or wake up in heaven.” And, as the nurse was giving me my Versed, I knew that I would remember nothing of the subsequent test and would awaken an hour or two later hopefully in my hospital room with good news.
As the Versed kicked in, nothing happened. Nothing. My memory did not fade. I recalled everything that happened. I remember my cardiologist telling me each step of the procedure and I felt the contrast in my aorta and in my coronaries. I recalled him saying everything was normal. I recall him asking me if I wanted to have pressure applied to my groin puncture or an angioseal (a plug that does not require holding pressure to stop the bleeding) and how painful it was when he put in the angioseal. I recall him squatting down so he could look me in the eye and tell me my test was normal and he was going to go tell my wife. I did not have to wake up. I was awake and, frankly, grateful for it. For, I heard and saw the professionalism and care of the team that took care of me.
That evening, as my wife was taking us home from the hospital, I marveled at how good God is. I had faced my own mortality and found that everything about my heart was stone cold normal. But, why hadn’t that been true for my nephew? Why hadn’t he had the chance I had? I cannot know God’s will and I cannot know God’s plans. But, this one thing I do know. I must make every moment; every opportunity count for God. He has given me more time and that is the one precious gift we can give back to Him. So, I am hoping that I will now finish this book and, hopefully, more books.
Morbidity 1.
Mortality 0.
If you are planning a gift to the American Heart Association, give in memory of Ronald Ennis, M.D. He was a good man!
Bruce Hennigan 
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