When Scooter’s enthusiasm waned

Emma June has known Scooter her whole eleven years. She remembers when he was scared of the dark. Now, the day is closing and Scooter is missing.
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Scoot had been excited about the campout all day, so I didn’t tell him I was spooked. I looked up through the gaps in the trees and watched the clouds as they moved across the half moon like blankets trying to cover a small bed. Then it got darker. The owl hooted and we both saw its eyes, yellow and mean. Scooter said it first. “Campout over.” Then he got up and walked inside with the sleeping bag over his head.

I’m not afraid of the dark anymore. I’m not afraid of untold secrets, either.

“I’m afraid for Scooter,” I tell Frank.

“Me too.

Excerpt from The Moonshine Thicket

 Enthusiasm

The truth about my blogging “friends”

I blogged many years back and stopped. Maybe I didn’t understand it or maybe I just didn’t care. But I came back into “your” fold this past August because  I was on a mission. I had a goal and I haven’t done such a good job achieving it.

But, as I like to say, “there goes that universes again” — because blogging has taught me things I didn’t expect.

I have to tell you. A few people in my life, including an attorney friend of mine, worries that “exposing” myself to the cyber world could be unsafe. That “many of those bloggers are not true to who they really are.”

If that’s the case with any of you, back up, Jack, and hit the unfollow button.

(But I think I “know” you.)

Unless I’m traveling, my world is a bit of a bubble. You know, routines and such. Not that I’m complaining. For the most part, I like my sac of familiar air.

But now I have cyber friends like you, who come from all over the world, who tell me through words or photographs about their life, and interests. Many of you share the same thoughts and ideals as me. And the ones who differ, teach me.

You are writers, strugglers, rebels, photographers, dancers, chefs, visionaries, travelers, poets, doctors, animal lovers, readers, humorists. You are mothers, fathers, new adults, aging adults, “in-between” adults.

And, here is the common thread: You are all thinkers who ponder and share the world as you know it.

So what’s not to like?

It’s not you. It’s me. I’m not so good at promoting my novels to make a “difference” in sales while sitting at this particular table.

But I like this wooden table. There is plenty of room for everyone.

And it’s round. 

 

 

(And yes, it’s an electronic cigarette)