Context of The Final Move

For the last week or so, I have been promising my twitter followers that I would put some context around some of the cryptic tweets I've been leaving. The context is from my novel work in progress with the working title "The Final Move."

The synopsis will be forthcoming at a later date if enough of my followers want to know. My apologies for previous blogs with less than adequate format and uncorrected typos. I'm learning to take my time with blogging, allowing myself to relax, to enjoy.

I invite you to leave a comment.

From "The Final Move"


I dreamed of a purple cloud. Wonderful drenching rain fell from it. Wearing my blue T-shirt and jammie bottoms, I stood in the cool downpour and smelled the freshness it washed into the air. Feeling soaked to the skin, I opened my eyes hoping to see the cloud. There wasn’t a cloud but there was a strange man wearing a purple jump suit floating above the foot of the hide-a-bed. Without moving his mouth, I heard his voice in my head. “Don’t worry. You’ll be guided and protected.”
My eyes opened again and I was soaked to the skin, alright, not with the cool rain but with hot sweat from a fever that wouldn’t break. A queasy heave of vomit jolted me and I dashed to the toilet. Falling to my knees hurt. Being so close to the chemicals was not soothing to my nausea and I heaved again. Only water came up because that’s all I could tolerate going down and not much of that.