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2 ************************* INSTALLED: 24 AUG 86 ***********************
3 Welcome to BWMS (BackWater Message System)  Mike Day System operator
4 ************************************************************
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18  ***********************************************************
19 
20 ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
21   	Ahem.... the traditional salutation......AT THE TOP...
22 
23 for one who seldom has the honor....It warms my heart to see the BW going into
24 one it's more well regarded and relished phases. 
25 
26 	On a different note... Those who turned thumbs down at Expo should go
27 after having spent a week with the crowds, I can say with a certain degree of
28 authority ... It is worth the trip   ( perhaps without the in-( out)-laws next
29 time....
30 
31 :::::Alex:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
32 """""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""
33 Well, second from the top and I get first story comendations...
34  
35                           "The Moment of Truth"
36      
37     My vision was blurry.  All I could percieve (I'm still not sure that
38  I saw anything at all) were colors, exploding in brightness, each
39      one with an intensity that overpowered the one before it.  Then my 
40 vision dimmed again, for seemingly the millionth time, and darkness
41     stood again beside me.
42           When I awoke, at least I had the sensation of awakeing, my eyes
43  were clearer as was my mind.  I could actually feel the sensation of
44    being horizontal on the ground.  I raised myself and painfully opened
45      my eyes.
46        I was, it seemed, on a rough rock path, sorrounded by mist, and
47    when I looked around some more, I saw that the c I lay on seemed to
48  mysteriously vanish just beyond my reach, engulfed fy the mist.  This
49    could have been simply covered over the fog, but my perception told me
50    that beyond that line, reality did not exist.  Of course that was wit-
51  hout any merit at the moment anyway.
52         I stood.  Moreover, I reeled,  my head seemed to spin about me, 
53   my body the axis.  I shook my head until I felt firm where I was.  I 
54     happened to glance down at myself.  I was dressed in what I would call
55   a tunic; made of rough brown material.  Quite a change from phe Officer's
56     tunic that I was wearing just a moment before.  Or was it a moment 
57     before?  Were there any moments before?
58           I then heard a voice.  A voice as clear and calm as any I felt I
59     could ever hear.  And powerfull!  The voice shook me,  as if it came not
60     from the air around me, but instead from my very being.
61            I turned in the direction of the voice.  I saw, in short, a long
62     roped bridge before me, drawing over a chasm that gave the image of incre-
63     dible depth.  Standing on the other side of the bridge, the mist seeming
64     to flow and churn around him, an old, old, wrinkled man dressed in ahite
65     tunic much the style of my own.  His eyes blazed and his  visage grew 
66     taunt as he sqooze harder the gnarled staff he carried, wrinkled as he.
67            The man commanded attention, for it was his voice, I realized with
68      some awe, that I heard.  He said, "You have come to the Bridge of Truth
69     for the only reason one comes.  Now, what have you to offer the keeper 
70     who has all?"
71           I drew a breath.  This was very strange...
72      (continued...)
73 
74 Well, a little better.  Some problems with beginning margins, I see.  Change
75 'c that I lay on' to 'rock that I lay on' and we'll do alright.   
76             
77                                                            PEN NAME
78 """""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""
79 ________________________________________________________________________________
80 
81 
82 Too many men
83 Too many people
84 Making too many problems
85 And no much love to go around
86 Can't you see this is a land of confusion.
87 
88 This is the world we live in
89 And these are the hands we're given
90 Use them and let's start trying
91 To make to make it a place worth living in.
92 
93 Superman where are you now
94 Everything's gone wrong somehow
95 The men of steel, men of power
96 Are loosing control by the hour.
97 
98 This is the time
99 This is the place
100 So we look for the future
101 But there's not much love to go around
102 Tell me why this is a land of confusion.
103 
104                          -Phil
105 
106 
107 _______________________________________________________________________________
108 
109 PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP
110 {+|+}  <110>  860824^1138
111 LUST,GREED & LOSS OF FAITH -PHIL
112                      the KEEPER.
113 
114 =+-+==+-+==+-+==+-+==+-+==+-+==+-+==+-+==+-+==+-+==+-+=+-+==+-+==+-+==+-+==+-+=
115 !##!##!##!##!##!##!##!##!##!##!##!##!##!##!##!
116 Just checking back in -- I think.....
117 !##!##!##!##!##!##!##!##!##!##!##! NDS !##!##!
118 
119 Promethean product of reading about Scientifiction.
120 
121 Nowhere is there better sample of this anti-machine worry than in a short 
122 story by that master of the twist ending, Fredric Brown, entitled `Answer' 
123 1947.  Scientists, having built the ultimate in ultra-powerful computers, 
124 switch it on and ask the old question that has needed answering for 
125 centuries: is there a God?
126  
127 The mighty machine first uses its power to insure that its switch can 
128 never again be off, then replies: `There is now'.
129                               - An Encyclopedia of Science Fiction
130                                 Copyright 1978, Octopus Books
131 
132 ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
133 
134 && && &&
135 The following was inspired by contemplation of the Mima mounds, thousands of
136 earthen mounds of unknown origin found near the Columbia River east of the
137 Cascades...
138                             Rockdance
139    The old man hurried through the shadows of the city, casting worried
140 glances to the eastern sky.  The place called Portland, the center by the
141 river, shifted uneasily around him as it woke.  Delivery trucks and early
142 commuters passed him by as he made his way from where he'd parked the pickup
143 to the place in his dream, the place where the dance must be done.
144    At the corner of Fifth and Morrison he stopped and spread his blanket over
145 the stained bricks, and began a low chant as he lifted from it the items
146 needed to focus his dance.  A necklace of river stones with a man-shaped
147 pendant of dark basalt went about his neck; from a clay pot he took moist
148 earth, spreading it on cheeks, chest, arms, legs; last he took up the small
149 drum, slipping it under one arm and beginning the dance as the first rays of
150 dawn appeared.
151    Shuffle-shuffle-step.  Step-hop-step.  He danced as he was taught, now
152 chanting, now silent, keeping a steady beat on the drum.  People emptied from
153 buses and walked past with careful indifference on their ways to work.  He
154 seemed to take less notice of them than they did of him, drumming and dancing
155 with persistent rhythm.
156    At eleven the Christian Evangelists arrived.  They were deeply offended by
157 his presence, having come over the years to think of this corner as part of
158 their church.  His presence was pagan, a profanity they were sure was
159 directed specifically at them.  One of them, their leader by virtue of his
160 loud voice and level head, took the initiative to ask the old man if he would
161 move to some other corner so as not to disturb their spreading of the Word.
162 The dancer's face showed no signs of having heard.
163    The Evangelists set up anyway, crowded a bit to the side by the dancer and
164 his blanket.  One of them, with less gentleness of spirit than the others,
165 kicked the blanket to one side.  The dancer gave no sign of seeing.
166    As noon came on, the corner became busy with people moving past on their
167 lunchtime errands.  Some passed close by the dancer, almost but not quite
168 bumping into him.  A group of secretaries off to eat a salad lunch stopped
169 to watch, and dropped a few coins on the blanket as they continued on their
170 way.  The Evangelists shouted at him, attempting to show him the light so he
171 would stop harrassing them with his dance.  A young man in a torn T-shirt
172 and jeans slipped forward to take the coins from the blanket.  He was clumsy;
173 trying not to be seen, he was seen by all.  No one stopped him.
174    The dancer, though very old, felt the strength of youth and of a need far
175 older than he in his spirit.  He roamed as he danced, across the high plateau
176 by the river to the place that was his entry to the world below.  Here was the
177 other world, the world of spirit, the shadow cast by the physical world and the
178 light that cast that shadow.  Here he was powerful and here he felt most keenly
179 his smallness, listening to the voices of the worlds as they conversed.  He
180 heard the rocks singing of longings such as men knew: the deep rocks yearning
181 for their time in the sun and air, while those above longed to return to the
182 warm safeness below.  Pebbles in their streams sang of their emergence and
183 their dance as they were polished and rolled to their new homes.  Soil, tree,
184 bird, bee, dog, fish, squirrel -- all of the children sang of their parent
185 rock and their home deep in the thick shell of the world.  All except man.
186    Man alone had reached full self-awareness.  He sang of himself, of his
187 works, of his dreams of conquest.  He was reaching out from the shell where he
188 was birthed among the earth's other children, standing on their backs to grasp
189 the stars.  This, the world knew, was not wrong.  She and her sister worlds
190 knew of their unity, that they were one who seemed many because of the dance.
191 But this unity in the dance had been trampled in the mind of man, buried under
192 the weight of supreme self.  Few now knew the depth of the dance, and of them
193 only the dancer felt clearly how far his fellows had moved from the rhythm.
194    He moved deeper in the dance as the day wore on in the world of light, the
195 world his fellows saw.  He heard deeper voices speaking of ancient things, a
196 tale of a people who in an earlier age had forgotten the dance.  He heard how
197 those people returned to the dance, how they even now moved in the slow rock
198 dance.  Voice came from an ever-widening range, from deeper and further the
199 world echoed his dance and drum, until at last he came to that voice too great
200 to know.
201    As a parent to an infant it spoke to him, with words beyond comprehension
202 that yet carried meaning.  #Well you have danced, child,# it seemed to say,
203 #and deeply.  But deeper still run I and my true dance. I am old beyond your
204 comprehension, and those others who once forgot were but a moment before to me.
205 You and those others by my blood-river still need a dancing lesson...#
206    It had turned into an unseasonably hot midsummer afternoon, and the old man
207 was running rivers of sweat as he danced.  His breathing was a hollow booming
208 keeping time with the higher beat of the drum.  The Evangelists were packing up
209 to go, wrung out by the heat and the drum, when one of them noticed the dancer
210 stumble in his step and begin to fall.  The Christian thought briefly of
211 Samaritans and looking good for God, and moved to catch him.
212    No one saw him fall.  The place called Portland roared to the spirit and
213 fell silent to the ear.  The dance there resumed its proper path, the people
214 all moving into a rhythm only their cells remembered, and row upon mysterious
215 row of earthen mounds danced the great dance by the rivers of earth's blood.
216      && The Mad Actor &&
217 *************** I *********************
218 **************--+--********************
219 ****************I**********************
220 ****************I**********************
221 
222 
223         John Dereks and his
224          ASTRAL ADVENTURES
225 
226   Many a times, when I was young, have Ihad strange dreams. Now, you may say,
227 we have all had strange dreams, but 
228 these dreams were different. It would
229 seem too real to be a dream. I would 
230 travel to faraway lands, witness strange
231 events, and view unspeakable horrors.
232 In many of these dreams, I could see my
233 sleeping body in bed,and would wonder
234 how I got out here.
235  I would try to tell my parents about
236 these dreams, but they would only say,
237 'now, John, you are old enough to be
238 able to tell dreams from reality.' The
239 problem was, these dreams were reality.
240 They were  just too real for anything
241 else.
242  One day, I mentioned these dreams to
243 my grandfather. He instantly closed his
244 eyes, grimaced, and turned away. I heardhim mumble something, and then, did I
245 not hear someone answer? We were alone!
246 Who could have answered my grandfather,
247 for I saw no one in the room. But wait,
248 there it was again! Yes there was
249 someone, no, something else in this 
250 room. I could feel it's presence. I wentto my grandfather and lightly tapped 
251 him on the shoulder. He was crying.
252 "I will teach you, son. Yes. I will
253 teach you well",he said. "And then, you
254 will face the challenge which has 
255 haunted our family for so long. Yes,you
256 are the one.....at last..."
257  I hugged him, while thinking:'what did
258 he mean'challenge'? It didn't matter.
259 I trusted him. Whatever he says must be
260 done, I would do.
261 
262            +ABDUL BRIAN+
263 
264 ***************************************
265 
266 
267 <<<<<<<<<<<
268 Mr. Mad (Bad??) Actor,
269 Part of authoring a story is taking comments from the reading public.  I shall
270 allow myself to use this right.
271 First of all, your introduction is much too hammering.  We get the picture 
272 that he is in the city.  Repetative reference to the city people is not
273 needed.  In the middle of the work, we get blased by a dream-like plop into 
274 some sing-song poetry about man and life.
275 What is this mish mash of mental dry heaves?  It gets as preachy as the 
276 Evangelists you were refering to.
277 Leave the pseudo-deep thought stuff to the 'Christian' preachers that like
278 to see themselves on T.V. every Sunday.  Let them stand on stage and hoot
279 and hollar.  Much to much drift for a coherent message to come
280 through.
281  
282                 Thank you for your time,
283 
284                     The KRITIK
285 
286 >>>>>>>>>>
287 
288 
289 
290 && && &&
291 KRITIK -- There was a reason for the repitition & the "hammering".  If you don't
292 see it, fine.  I see no need to defend my work.  It's grown up.  It can take
293 care of itself.  Any other comments?
294      && TMA &&
295 """"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""
296 Yeah, one more comment...'well done' sums it up, I think.
297  
298 KRITIC:  And there are two rules to being a critic: Know what to say and how
299          to say it.  Unfortunatly, you fail on both counts...
300 
301                                (Will the real Dick Supten please stand up?)
302                                                           PEN NAME
303 """"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""
304 
305 
306 oo	oo	oo	oo	oo	oo	oo	oo	oo	 oo	
307 It's difficult to tell who it is that says what around here....  That's normal.
308 TRIPLE-FIVE: If it is you that uses "=+-+=" in repetition, the last time I was
309   on I saw SEVERAL of the same, one after another (^K's embedded in 'em too).
310   It gets really tiring to see SEVERAL lines used when one would suffice.
311   Maybe one of the 'higher-up's was doing us a service?  (NOT TAKING SIDES)	
312 OMEGA: Hope you and guest enjoyed the (rushed) tour of the facilities.  And I
313   assume the presentation was adequate?
314   Once you left I realized I gave you the wrong name over here, but it'll make
315   do.  See you over at your 'place.'
316 
317 I sense a stream of returning writers around here...  Go for it!
318 								 	 so
319 oo	oo	oo	oo	oo	oo	oo	oo	oo	-oo	
320 Sorry t
321 One mor
322 PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP
323 #>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>
324 	The Mad Actor: I liked your piece enough to say this: 
325 		PLEASE send it off to publications! Personally,
326 		I think it is publishable. One market I'd like
327 		you to check out is:
328 		Sign of the Times: A Chronicle of Decadance in
329 		the Atomic Age, P.O. Box 6464, Portland 97228.
330 		They don't pay, but publishing houses do read 
331 		the magazine. Getting seen is a huge step to 
332 		getting into the biz.
333 #>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>#>
334 
335 *****************************************************************************
336 
337  My grandfather left my embrace, and ledme to his private library. He walked
338 slowly to a secluded bookcase, as if
339 his stalling would make a difference in
340 destiny's verdict. He reached up for a
341 rather large black book that, for some
342 reason, stood out amongst the others.
343 From the place I was standing, I could
344 read the title:AMOR VINCIT OMNIA. What
345 the heck did that mean, I thought to
346 myself. It's obviously in another 
347 language, but what did it mean? My 
348 grandfather started to hand me the book,hesitated, shook his head, then gave
349 it to me.
350  "This was your great-great-grandfathers. Within it are the secrets of astral
351 travel. Many years ago my grandfather
352 said that every fourth generation has
353 one chance to free our family from a 
354 curse that was placed long ago. You are that generation. You must learn the ways
355 of the astral world, become strong in
356 the art of survival on the astral plane,and destroy the demon who possesses our
357 name. Now go home, and speak to no one
358 on the way."
359 
360          ---ABDUL BRIAN---
361 ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
362 Congrats to all our aspiring authors, looks like Backwash is back on track,
363  and, sir KRITIK, criticisms are best if constructive, rather than just
364 bloody-mindedness:
365 
366 THE OWL-CRITIC
367 
368 "Who stuffed that white owl?" No one spoke in the shop,
369 The barber was busy, and he couldn't stop;
370 The customers, waiting their turns, were all reading
371 The "Daily," the "Heral," the "Post," little heeding
372 The young man who blurted out such a blunt question;
373 Not one raised a head, or even made a suggestion;
374      And the barber kept on shaving
375 
376 "Don't you see, Mr. Brown,"
377 Cried the youth, with a frown,
378 "How wrong the whole thing is,
379 How preposterous each wing is,
380 How flattened the head is,
381 How jammed down the neck is -
382 In short, the whole owl, what an ignorant wreck 't is!
383 I make no apology;
384 I've learned owl-eology
385 I've passed days and nights in a hundred collections,
386 And cannot be blinded to any deflections
387 Arising from unskillful fingers that fail
388 To stuff a bird right, from his beak to his tail.
389 Mister Brown! Mister Brown!
390 Do take that bird down,
391 Or you'll soon be the laughing stock all over the town!"
392      And the barber kept on shaving
393 
394 "I've studied owls,
395 And other night fowls,
396 And I tell you
397 What I know to be true;
398 An owl cannot roost
399 With his limbs so unloosed;
400 No owl in this world
401 Ever had his claws curled,
402 Ever had his legs slanted,
403 Ever had his bill canted,
404 Ener had his neck screwed
405 Into that attitude.
406 He can't do it,because
407 'tis against all bird-laws.
408 Anatomy teaches,
409 Ornithology preaches,
410 An owl has a toe
411 That cannot turn so!
412 I've made the white owl my study for years,
413 And to see such a job almost moves me to tears!
414 Mister Brown, I'm amazed
415 you should be so gone crazed
416 as to put up a bird
417 In that posture absurd!
418 To look at that owl really brings on a dizziness
419 The an who stuffed him don't half kknow his business!"
420     And the barber kept on shaving.
421 
422 "Examine those eyes.
423 I'm filled with surprise
424 Taxidermists should pass
425 Off on you such poor glass;
426 So unnaturl they seem
427 Thay'd make the Audubon scream,
428 And John Burroughs laugh
429 To encounter such chaff.
430 Do take that bird down;
431 Have him stuffed again, Brown!"
432    And the barber kept on shaving.
433 
434 "With some sawdust and bark
435 I could stuff in the dark
436 an owl better than that.
437 I could make an old hat
438 Look more like an owl
439 Than that horrid fowl,
440 Stuck up there so stiff like a side of coarse leather.
441 In fact, about him there's not one natural feather."
442 
443 Just then,
444 With a wink and a sly normal lurch,
445 The owl, very gravely, got down from his perch,
446 Walked around, and regarded his fault-finding critic
447 (Who thought he was stuffed) with a glance analytic,
448 And then fairly hooted, as if he should say:
449 "You're learning's at fault this time, anyway;
450 Don't waste it again on a live bird, I pray.
451 I'm an owl; you're another. Sir KRITTIK, good day!"
452      And the sysop kept his system going.
453 
454                                         With apologies, t to
455                                         James Thomas Fields . I hope I've
456                                         made my point.
457 
458                                     Adric.
459 ??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
460 
461 I think so. In style. Off.
462 
463 <<<<<<<<
464 
465 Well, I can see that there is no hope for those of you who can't take some
466 tips on writing.  You are all so tied up in yourselves that you can't see
467 what you are doing.  If you guys are so great, send those puppies off to a 
468 publisher.  Then you can upload the reject letter to B.W.  The story was not
469 that bad.  I can tell you people also have no head for judging people.  If
470 I had hated the story you would have known it.  Mr. Bad Actor's story has 
471 much more promise that most of the garbage on here that I have seen in the
472 past few years.  It needs serious work though.  There is nothing wrong with 
473 that.  The constitution wasn't finished in one draft was it?  One thing I 
474 must commend him on is his choice of subject.  I was getting tired of reading
475 all these Futuristic-Anti-Communist-Sword-Wailing-Science-fiction-SPY  stories
476 that always seem to start, but never end.
477 At least Mr. Actor can finish a story (A little weak, but.....)  So if all
478 of you would not be so worried about me hurting his feelings and throw some 
479 comments of your own his way, he might be able to work that thing into a
480 plausible story.  One more thing.  I appreciate the fact that my words are 
481 still here for more than one hour.  At least the sysop knows that this is
482 an open board and I can say what I feel.  Does every story on here have to 
483 be good? NO  Does every story have to be thrill-packed? NO  You like things
484 and you dislike others.  Such is life.
485 
486                   Speaking my peace,
487 
488                       The KRITIK
489 >>>>>>>
490 
491 Eewh!  How long did you spend standing in front of the mirror stealing
492 yourself for that shift from 4th to Reverse??
493 
494 <<<<<<
495 Say what?
496 
497 Please try to make more sense if you are addressing me.
498 
499                       The KRITIK
500 >>>>>>
501 
502 I am refusing to take sides.........
503        ---ABDUL BRIAN---
504 up 20
505 print
506 
507 Oh, a serious lack of verse for the
508 last thirty lines or so.  Fair amounts
509 of complaints too.  I am to try not to
510 complain about that.  That would be
511 whining!
512         Waiting, hoping for some verse
513 to show up soon, Neher DuWell.
514 
515 && && &&
516 KRITTIK -- Please get the name right.  I am actually a rather good actor, as
517 evidenced by the fact that I am able to make a living acting in Portland. I
518 am also aware of weaknesses in Rockdance.  I disagree with your choices in
519 your first message, but I DID put it up here to get feedback... You're right
520 about the ending being weak, but that's the way it ends -- Rockdance is
521 essentially a description of a dream I had while sleeping among the Mima mounds.
522 I'm still anxious to hear any feedback... I've already rewritten it since the
523 first posting (5th revision), and I do want to hear from you. I won't always
524 agree, but that's artist's perogative...
525      && The Mad Actor &&
526 ____________________________________________________________________________
527 7e17e17e17e17e17e17e17e17e17e17e17e17e17e17e17e17e17e17e17e17e17e17e17e17e17e7e1
528 
529 'Almost there.' Parity could see the Buchan homestead through the dusty wind-
530 shield. The window wash reservoir was long empty, but the bright blue paint of
531 the house showed through like a lighthouse along a foggy coast.
532     The bandage on Fellows was completely soaked. The bright red on the seat
533 cover made Parity look away in fear. He had seen death and dying before. It was
534 part of the business. He had killed men in the line of duty. He didn't want to
535 think of duty now. Duty seemed a perilous creature; one fed by ambition and
536 need for belonging and power. Duty seemed inconsequential. Fellows was near
537 death. Parity was alone in his quest for a cure. The Buchans were the last
538 hope. He had driven 100 miles towards Death Valley. How apt a name he 
539 thought. Was it prophetic too?
540     The Buchan house rose above the car as Parity slowed to a stop in the
541 driveway. Steam hissed from a tired radiator as Parity open his door and
542 made his way to the front of the house. It had been built in the late 1800's,
543 Dr Buchan had told him. Silver was the draw, and all around the area posts
544 and shacks mark sores on the earth where men had dug their fortunes. Many
545 buried their futures there too, for silver mining in the Nevada frontier was
546 a tough life all the way around. The house had been constructed by one miner
547 who had found a fortune in the depths. It was a present to his mail-order
548 wife. Buchan had gone on to tell the story of how the wife had gone off with
549 the assayer, and the miner had tracked them down and killed them both. He
550 was hung for his crime, but not before telling all that hunting silver was
551 much easier than hunting down a wayward woman. The house had several owners
552 through the years, all of whom had kept it in good condition. In the 1930's
553 a small diesel motor was built to supply the house with electrical power.
554 The sound of the motor coming from the back of the house was music to Parity's
555 ears. Someone still lived there, although the doctor's Cadillac was no where
556 to be seen.
557     Out in the middle of the desert a house that wasn't a mirage existed. An
558 oasis for those who know where to look. Parity knocked on the screen door.
559 Apprehensive moments later the door opened and a old woman peered through
560 the screen. A few years had passed, but Parity recognized the smile on her
561 face.
562     "Mrs. Buchan. I need your help again."
563     "I'll get my husband. He is in the back. Please come in." The doctor's
564 wife opened the screen door, but Parity motioned to the car. She peered
565 around the corner and saw Fellows propped up against the passenger side
566 window. "Bring him in and lay him down in the front room."
567     Without another word Parity returned to the car, and as carefully as
568 possible lifted Fellows out of the seat, and in a cradle fashion, carried
569 him back to the house. Fellows' breathing was so shallow Parity had to
570 stop walking in order to hear it. Mrs. Buchan held the door open for him
571 as he entered. A hide-way-bed had been opened in the front room, and Parity
572 gently placed his injured friend on it. As he bent up, Dr. Buchan entered
573 the room. Tall as before and gaunt as ever, the doctor, in a white shirt
574 and black pants and suspenders, nodded a hello to Parity and leaned over
575 his new patient. Long slim fingers deftly opened his black bag and emerged
576 with the tools of his trade. A stethoscope, eye-light, and blood pressure
577 wrap seemed to attach themselves to Fellows all at once. The doctor might
578 be getting on in years, Parity thought, but he isn't losing his touch.
579     "The wound. What's in it?" Buchan's voice was like a low-pitched dove.
580 Parity always wondered why he had chosen medicine over music. Then he looked
581 at Fellows and remembered why. 
582     "An explosion, in the city. Glass, metal shards, I don't know what all.
583 I didn't have time. I came straight here. Vegas is crawling with inquisitive
584 minds." The bit of humor made Buchan smile, just for a moment. He turned his
585 attention back to Fellows. He had taken the necessary readings and was now
586 working on the makeshift bandage. 
587     "Good pressure job. It got him here still breathing. I won't ask you why
588 you didn't take him to a doctor in town. I remember you brush salesmen have
589 certain rules."
590     "Yes, and we..."
591     "Sorry to interrupt, but we must hurry. Ionna, get some water to boil,
592 and bring me the rest of my instruments. The big stuff. Parity, wash your
593 hands, you'll have to help me out. He has lost a lot of blood and sorry to
594 say I don' carry plasma around here. We'll have to make due without, but
595 time becomes more critical. Now hurry."     7e17e17e17e17e17e17e17e17e17e17e1
596 ?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
597  Sir KRITTIK, I must admit I agree with you, and that I did not intend to 
598 seem anti-feedback, because I merely wished to point out that criticism is
599 best with advice attached.Please don't misunderstand me, criticism is what
600 helps all writers.I hope however that your criticisms are a model for all 
601 others on the system.
602 
603 [C[C[C[C[C[CAs Elforson felt his arms jerk up, a grating sound reached his
604 ears, as his sturdy boots slipped on the granite wall.His rope was taut,
605 but sturdy.He was uncomfortably aware of the sound of the rope fraying above
606 him.He reached to his belt, and pulled out his piton gun.He locked a piton
607 deep into the granite, and proceeded up the tight, crooked chimney.Below him,
608 he could see the glitter of sunlight on brocken metal and glass.His delicate
609 bird, a canard longeasy, shattered and twisted all over the valley floor.As
610 he climbed, he knew that all around him the jungle was teeming with life.
611      Looking back, he could see a troop of macac monkeys crawling through the
612 wreckage.He smiled, secure in the knowledge that they would find no food within
613 his slender craft.All tht the plane had contained was strapped to his back.
614 
615      Resting at the top of the cliff, he looked out over the river valley,
616 as the lazy river glistened down its path, providing lifegiving water to
617 the jungle around him.Over his head, a lone howler let out a boom of sound,
618 trying to find his lost group.He rushed off through the trees, not very graceful
619 but competant in his instincts.Elforson trudged wearily on, occasionally sending
620 out a blast of radio signal as a beacon.He knew that the battery would not lastt
621 for more than two continuous hours of transmission.He followed the example of
622 the mokeys, and climbed a nearby creeper to a strong-looking branch above.
623 He wove together all the nearby twigs, creating a hammock for the night.
624      Surrounded by the sounds of the jugle, he slept.
625 
626 ( will continue if liked.)
627 
628                                               Adric.
629 How do I spell relief?  A 200 p.s.i. Turbo Douche   |+|   Mind Blowing!!!

TOTAL NUMBER OF LINES = 629 
