No sooner did the spinning stop, I got a quick glimpse of my surroundings, and what looked like what I was falling into it wasn't a pretty sight. It seemed like I was about to fall into some kind of a junkyard or trash pile. Suddenly everything stopped with a bang, and my body was being consumed with pain. The floor that I fell on was hard Concrete, covered with dirt and trash. Lying right next to where I landed appeared to be some kind of a soft rolled-up rug. Just my luck, instead of falling on a smooth looking carpet, I landed on the trash and hard Concrete. It soon became apparent that it wasn't my only problem. As I tried to breathe instead of air, all I got in my lungs was soot, dust, and the smell that I didn't want to know what it was from. To make matters worse, it was quickly filling my lungs. Out of a desperate need for air, I tried to stand up. Unfortunately, my body didn't want any part in that. I was utterly exhausted with unbearable pain, but I did manage to get my face out of the dirt enough to breathe. The air was not what I expected either. Instead of the sweet smell of the air, what I breathed in was the most putrid smell I had ever smelled. It smelled as if I had landed in a garbage dump filled with long-dead fish. My mind quickly went into its (why me) mode of thinking. I was dumped from a swirling tornado; God only knows why I was in it in the first place. Next, I landed on hard Concrete next to a soft rug and finally landing in this cesspool of smells. I laid there for what must have been hours, waiting for my body to gather enough strength to move. When I finally mustered the strength to stand, I tried to see where I was. All my eyes could see was pitch blackness all around. With vague shapes in the distance, also a strange red light coming from far away. I felt this sticky wet substance on my head; as I reached up to find out what it was, I felt a sharp pain, then everything went black. I must have passed out because I could see a little better the next time, I opened my eyes. The room now looked strangely dark gray instead of full black. From what I could see, it appeared that I had fallen into an area of total disruption with garbage and trash strewn about everywhere. When I looked down, I discovered what that sticky substance was that I felt earlier, it was blood, and I was sure it was mine. I tried to remember what had happened to me to be in this place, but all I could remember besides spinning was some kind of fire that I had to jump from. I just laid there; to me it felt like hours had gone by while I was trying to remember why I was here. Besides fire and jumping, I just couldn't remember anything else. Suddenly I visioned that I was entering a building called the Jefferson museum. I was shocked to see several statues and paintings. What looked like many of my old friends from the past. I asked myself, what the heck are they doing here? There were signs below each painting and statue; I couldn't see what was written because I was being pushed further into the center of the room by a crowd of people. As we got closer to the center, I could see what looked like a glass coffin with a body inside. Suddenly I heard a voice in my head say, "well, it's about time you showed up; now get me the hell out of here.
The US president and a team of scientists meet two spacecraft at a secret location in the middle of the New Mexico desert to give advanced technology to the United States. Krill the Alien leader conveys his messages of cooperation, but with one caveat: in exchange, Aliens insist on noninterference from our government with their ongoing human abduction experiments. The president reluctantly agrees; a deal is hammered out. Alliances formed, Krill delivers on his technology. But there is much opposition from the CIA. Determined main characters go through hell to make it work through cunning, personal human sacrifice and interbreeding between Alien and human beings. Editor/freelance writer: newspaper and magazine articles. Non Fiction published credits: Westwego from Cheniere to Canal, Voices of St. Rosalie Catholic Church, The Barataria Basin, "Down the Bayou to up Front," Outdoors with Mac, a "Collection of Outdoor Memorabilia," Novels: The Artifacts, Prescription for Genocide, "the B12-A Syndrome," Unpublished but completed: Color Blind, The Survivalists. Electronic media include local, commercials; wrote scripts, hosted taped and live radio & TV talk shows.
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