How could this happen? Easy.

Cleveland, Ohio - Three women who were reported missing 10 plus years ago are finally home with their families, and people are now wondering, how could this happen? Unfortunately, it is far too easy in a society that prides itself on competition over cooperation.

Now I agree that a certain level of competition can lead to advancements in technology and science. However, push it too far, and people begin to watch out for themselves over anyone else and put their friends and family before they'll lend a helping hand to a stranger. When we begin to divide our our society in such a way, crime begins to happen more frequently. Why? Because people look the other way.

If you want to help, begin by taking the first step. Say, "Hello," to strangers you pass on the way to work. Soon enough, many will become familiar faces. Ask, "How are you doing?" and really mean it. Be prepared to offer words of assistance and a listening ear to those who aren't having such a great day. These simple building blocks can bring us closer to our neighbors, and ultimately, can reduce crimes the like of what happened in Cleveland.

Suspects' Street Was Perfect Hiding Spot

Feeling Down and Needing a Bit of Cheer

Despite the title, I'm not going to share why I'm down. Those of you who need to know already do. And if you know me but don't know what I'm talking about, please give me a call.

For everyone else, it is enough to know that I'm feeling down and am looking for cheer wherever it may be found. My husband knows this well, and two nights ago, he did what writers do best. He wrote to me and made me smile.

It was May 2, and a snowstorm had hit with a vengeance. I'm not kidding.

That night, my husband recalled the last time we'd had a big snowstorm and realized he'd have to dig his car out the next morning. The only problem with that was that the shovel was in the trunk of my car, and I would be leaving before him. He asked me to please leave the shovel for him the next morning. I told him it would be best if he wrote me a note and put it by my Kindle which I always take to work.

I said, "Just put the word 'shovel' on a scrap of paper. That will be enough."

Here's the note he left.

Sarah,

I will require some manner of implement, though not a spoon, not a slide rule, and even a spade would not be quite the correct tool to remove the copious amount of frozen water that fell from the sky on Thursday. Perhaps a plastic device, one much like the collapsible one to be found in your car's trunk, meant for moving quantities of earth or (previously mentioned) snow.

So please remember to take the time to remove said item from the boot of your automobile and deposit it in our kitchen. Right next to the door would suffice.

My honest appreciation,
Your husband,
J.A.Y., I, Esquire

P.S. I do believe the word I had searched for earlier is SHOVEL.

*If you enjoyed reading this note, you may also enjoy his novel, Unrequited by Jay Merin.

Do you believe in ghosts?

I have had a few paranormal experiences in my lifetime. By paranormal, I simply mean that some things have happened to me that I could not explain. That is not to say that what happened cannot be explained or that it can only be explained by supernatural means. Today, I'd like to share an experience from my past. Take it to mean what you will. As for me, I'm content to let it remain unexplained.

When I was 16 years old, we took a week-long family vacation to Cape May, New Jersey. When we arrived, we learned that the town of Cape May was an historical landmark, and as such, all of the buildings there needed to follow certain codes. It was absolutely beautiful and, other than the cars, looked as if it had sprung out of a history textbook. Cape May is directly on the Atlantic coast. People rent bikes to ride along the picturesque streets and buy kites to fly on the sandy beach in the summer. They go sun bathing and body boarding beneath crystal clear blue skies. At least, they did when I was 16.

My parents had rented the right half of an old house. Inside, there were three narrow floors. On the ground floor was a living room, a dining room, a kitchen and a small bathroom. The second and third floors had only bedrooms. My younger brother and I ran to the top floor and immediately chose bedrooms up there. The room I chose was between the other two. To get to it, I had to climb the final flight of stairs, turn around the banister, take a few steps down the hallway and then turn left. My brother's room was farther down that same hallway, directly at the end of it. My parents chose a room on the second floor. I was thrilled to be up on the top floor. Not only could I see the ocean from my bedroom window, I could hear the surf. It was perfect!

The first night, nothing strange happened to me, but when I woke, I learned that during the night my brother had moved down to the second floor into a room that connected to my parents' room. I didn't really think anything of it. Maybe I was still holding a grudge from a few years earlier when I'd wanted to pitch a tent and stay out in the backyard, only my parents would only allow it if there were at least two of us out there, and then when my brother got scared and wanted to go back inside, my mom wouldn't let me return to the tent. Okay, maybe I'm still holding that grudge.

The next night, I said 'goodnight' to my family on the second floor and headed up to the third floor by myself. With each step as I climbed higher, it became more and more difficult to breathe and my heart pounded harder and faster. I rounded the banister and the feelings intensified, but as soon as I entered my room, those physical sensations immediately vanished. Because it creeped me out, I wore my headphones to bed that night and fell asleep to music rather than to the sound of the ocean waves pounding upon the shore outside my open window. The next night was the same. In fact, every night was like that for the rest of the week. But I didn't tell anyone. I'd learned my lesson well from that tent experience. I knew if I told my parents what was going on, they'd make me move down to the second floor too, and I was not about to give up my most awesome room.

Flash forward to the next summer. My mom and I went for a walk. Prior to the walk, she'd been listening to a CD she'd purchased at Cape May because one of the songs, "Cristofori's Dream" by David Lanz, reminded her of the beach. She asked me what I'd thought of that family vacation.

I answered honestly, "I loved it. All except for that one room."

Then she asked me a strange question. "Has your brother ever told you why he switched rooms?"

I said, no, and she suggested that I ask him about it sometime.

Sometime ended up being years later. You know how conversations drift from one topic to the next, and by the time we returned home, I simply forgot to ask him about it. It just wasn't that important to me, I guess. So years later, my husband and I invited my brother and his girlfriend over for dinner. One topic led to the next and we began to reminisce.

Suddenly, I remembered and said, "Oh, Mom said I should ask you why you switched rooms at Cape May."

His answer was interesting, to say the least. He said he'd woken up that first night from a terrible nightmare. Not only that, but his room was absolutely freezing, and it was so dark he couldn't even see his hand in front of his face. That is why he high-tailed it to a room on the second floor.

So there it is. Take it for what you will.

S.L. Wallace is the author of the Reliance on Citizens trilogy and Retrospection.

Entertainment, Relaxation, Escapism

I want to take a moment to apologize for not posting on a more regular basis. I realize I've been missing. Only, I haven't really been gone you know. I've been enjoying life. I've been busy. What does that mean exactly? In short, it means I've been working, spending time with my family and doing other things I enjoy with my free time.

One of the things I most enjoy doing is writing. It is one of my favorite forms of entertainment, relaxation and escapism. Perhaps you like to run, to ride on a motorcycle, to travel, to simply sit out in the sun. Maybe you like to read. Me? I like to write. Today, I'd like to share just a bit of my latest work-in-progress. Don't be fooled. This is an unusual story, a mixture of fantasy and historical fiction spanning the years from the 1600s to the present.


"Hello."

At the sound of her voice, Jhidhai turned from the window and stared. Sunlight silhouetted his lean figure but obscured his face in shadow.

The girl blinked and pushed herself up onto her elbows; the stark white sheet slid to her waist. Her eyes sported bruises, cuts marred her pale face, and long red hair hung limply from beneath a head bandage.

"You can see me?" he asked.

The girl, Claire, shifted a bit. The gentle beep of the heart monitor and the hum of filtered air flowing through the vents high in the wall were the only noises.

"Um, yeah... Where am I?" She licked her lips and looked around, but Jhidhai quickly worked his magic. The girl saw only an empty room with none of the machines or hospital charts.

"It's so cold. What is this place?" The beeping from the heart monitor increased.

Quickly, Jhidhai sifted through her memories and projected one to calm her. He stepped away from the window. From her angle on the bed, Claire could see a bright blue summer sky with a few wispy clouds. The sunlight brightened his features, and the girl realized he was younger than she'd initially thought, a young 20-something, not much older than herself.

"I'm sorry. You look familiar, but I don't remember your name. Do we have classes together?"

He shook his head and offered his hand, palm up. "Jhidhai. You said you were cold. Would you like to go for a walk? I think it's warmer outside."

"Jhidhai?"

"My name."

Tentatively, Claire reached for his hand. She stood and stared at their fingers curled around each other. Then she smiled, tilted her head and looked into his warm brown eyes. "You don't look Asian."

"I'm not," he said, then tugged her hand and led her out of the room.

Because of the veil Jhidhai had created, Claire did not see the doctor approach the bed to check on his patient. He was pleased. Her vitals were strong, and she slept soundly, recuperating in peace.

Why Claire left with this stranger, she did not know. She knew only that she felt safe, like it was the right thing to do.

They walked down a long narrow corridor with paintings on the walls and headed toward a glowing red exit sign. Jhidhai pushed open the heavy door. Staring at the yellow and black lines on the metal bar across the door and the sign proclaiming 'emergency exit,' Claire was surprised. Instead of an alarm, she heard laughter, happy voices, gulls and waves of water washing upon the shore.

Claire knew this place well, and she smiled as she dropped Jhidhai's hand and rubbed her bare arms. Her bright green tank top brought her shining eyes to light and contrasted nicely with her long red hair, now pulled up into a high ponytail.

Jhidhai spread a pale blue beach blanket upon the sand in the middle of the crowd, and side-by-side, they sat upon it. The warm sand beneath dispelled the last of her chills.

"That's much better. Thanks," Claire said. She drew in deep breath. "What a beautiful day!"

As on most warm summer days, the fine white sand of North Avenue beach was covered by beach towels, folding chairs and golden bodies tanning in the sun. Claire giggled and pointed at a man who was tossing his little boy into an oncoming wave.

"My dad used to do that with me."

"You want to join them? We could go swimming."

"Uh, maybe later. I'm a little sore right now, don't think swimming is the best idea." Claire rubbed her shoulder.

"May I?" Jhidhai gently placed his hand upon the back of her neck.

Claire nodded and turned. "Um, weren't you wearing a business suit? You know, back there..." She glanced to her right, but there was no building. Instead, she saw only the familiar volleyball nets with games in full swing.

"Was I?"

Jhidhai gently slid his palm down to the girl's shoulder, and Claire felt a warmth seep into her sore muscles. She tilted her head from one side to the other.

"That's much better. Thank you. Well, you look good in casual too. More relaxed."

"Relaxed, huh?" Jhidhai rested his arms upon his knees and squinted as he watched the incoming waves wash upon the shore. None of this made any sense. If the girl only knew.

She laughed, "Did I stutter?"

Despite his surprised, he was looking forward to getting to know this one. The last few had been exhausting to put it mildly. Perhaps his superiors had decided he was due for a vacation of sorts. For a few minutes, they were both lost in thought.

Finally, Claire broke the silence. "Jhidhai. That sounds Japanese, but you said you aren't."

"That's right."

"So..."

He avoided eye contact. Instead, he stared at the sea of people, but he could feel her watching him. "What?"

"So how did you end up with a name like that? Are your parents into Manga or something?"

"No, I chose it myself."

"Oh, like a nickname." Claire hesitated. "So now what?"

"Um, I'm afraid you've lost me again." Jhidhai laughed nervously. He didn't usually speak with his charges or they with him.

Claire was not looking at the beach or the waves or the people or the clear blue skies. She stared intently at Jhidhai. "Come on. Give it to me straight."

Jhidhai turned then and peered into her eyes, surprised by the strength he saw within. The last time something even close to this had happened, it had not turned out well. He shook his head. His blond hair fell loosely over his eyes.

But Claire didn't stop. "None of this makes sense. Your clothes, the beach, this towel, you... I'm dead. That's what you don't want to tell me, isn't it?"

Jhidhai drew in a sharp breath but decided to answer with the truth. "No, you're not dead, but you've been hurt."

Claire waited patiently for him to continue.

"I don't know if you'll remember this conversation later or not, this doesn't usually happen, but all right. I'll answer your questions as best I can."

"Where am I then? I mean, I'm not really at the beach with you. I'm somewhere back in that cold building, right? Was it a hospital?"

"Yes, you were taken to the hospital, but you're going to be fine."

"I am? How do you know? Aren't you an angel, come to help me cross over?"

"No, I told you, you're not dead. And... You really think I look like an angel?"

Claire narrowed her eyes. "You're sure it's not my time?"

Jhidhai's warm laughter bubbled up from deep within his chest. "It's not 'your time,'" he made air quotes that brought a smile to Claire's face, "because if it were, I wouldn't be here with you right now."

"Well that doesn't tell me much. Okay then, what happened to me?"

"Now that's something I cannot tell you. You don't remember anything?"

Claire shook her head and furrowed her brow. "No."

Jhidhai thought about that for a moment. "I guess when you're ready to remember, you will. And until you wake, I'll stay here with you."

Claire took hold of his arm and leaned her cheek against his shoulder. "You're sure I won't die?"

"Not today."

"All right. If you say so."

S.L. Wallace is the author of Retrospection.

Too Creepy for Me

Two days... Is that the shortest friendship ever? No, actually it's not, not even for me.

I'm talking about FB friends, just one type of cyber-friendship. Those wary of the Internet will tell you not to give away too much personal information to people you don't really know. Those who are cyber-savvy will second that bit of advice. Over the years, most cyber-friends I've met have chimed in now and then, or simply read some of my posts without ever responding, while others have become good friends, best friends, even lovers.

That's a story unto itself that begins before there was an Internet, back in the days of BBS's. That's where I met the man who became my husband. We were young and both members of the same BBS. The first time we chatted, I annoyed him. That's wife material in the making! You see, he'd been playing an online game on the boards, and I wanted to chat with someone. Due to the old fashioned dial-up modems and smaller numbers of participants on BBS's, there weren't too many people online to chat with that afternoon, but I looked up his profile, and he sounded interesting, so I badgered him into leaving his game and coming to chat with me. No, it wasn't love at first chat. It was, in fact, half a year later before we decided to go on a date and two weeks after that before we'd tell anyone else we were dating. Even then, my parents had taught me to be cautious. The first time my husband and I met in real life was at Pizza Hut where a group of members from that BBS decided to get together one afternoon for a (gasp) Face-to-Face meeting. It was fun and led to some great friendships.

Two days... On Saturday, a man I'd never met sent me a FB friend request. After an initial check of his page, I learned he is a fellow author who is "friends" with many of the same authors I know, at least online. I then double checked on Amazon and saw that his books are not my preferred genre, but that's beside the point. To be clear, I accept a multitude of friend requests from other authors as well as fans. I'm willing to talk with a lot of different people about a lot of different topics. A few have creeped me out by sending some odd personal messages, while others raised red flags right from the start. This one fell somewhere in the middle.

His first message to me was a basic greeting followed by, "How's the Windy City?" One small red flag went up, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt after I saw that he had visited my blog. I thought perhaps there was a chance I had mentioned Chicago in one of my blog posts. I know I've mentioned Wisconsin because I no longer live there, and I know I've mentioned wanting to live in Canada so I clearly do not live there. But this person did not reference either Wisconsin or Canada.

So with Spidey-senses tingling, I wrote back and asked him to explain himself. He told me he has an app on his blog that lets him know where his visitors come from. A much bigger red flag flew into the air, and this is why. His first message, the one about the Windy City, appeared before I visited his blog in response to seeing that he had visited mine. So, in just two days, I made a new "friend" and then "unfriended" him.

For the record, this S.L. Wallace does not live in Wisconsin, Canada or Chicago.

School of the Ages

What do a hired assassin, a corrupt politician and a bothersome clock have in common?

Could a real dystopia be in our near future? Visit novelist, Sarah L. Wallace, at School of the Ages.

Unexpected Pushes

Sometimes we all need a little push to move out of our comfort zone. Have you done anything to push yourself lately? Has anyone given you an unexpected push?

First, a brief history. As a child, I auditioned for theatrical plays. Usually, I didn't get a part. In 8th grade, I did, but it was the part of a mime. That's right, a non-speaking role, dressed in black with a white painted-on face, while children much younger than me received multiple lines and singing parts. And in 10th grade, I was terribly embarrassed to have forgotten one line during a performance (just one, mind you) only to have the actress playing opposite me practically yell my forgotten line to me in front of everyone rather than just moving on. Suffice it to say, I no longer like to act.

Flash ahead to this past Monday. After school, we had a small group staff meeting. I teach in a Montessori school, and this week was Montessori week, culminating in a whole school assembly on Friday morning. So on Monday after school, in front of other staff, I felt my stomach drop when the principal jokingly said, "When I told the secretary she would have to play Maria Montessori on Friday, she responded by taking a week-long vacation." Then, in all seriousness, he looked across the table at me and said, "So, Sarah, on Friday you get to be Maria. Have fun with it."

In just seconds, my comfort zone was effectively annihilated. I couldn't say no, plus I realized I already had a costume. (At a past job, I had regularly dressed up along with all of my students for a day in a one-room schoolhouse.)

And you know what? It wasn't so bad. In fact, it was fun. I kept it a secret from all but a few staff (including those who had been at the staff meeting) and my young daughter who attends half day daycare and would be at the assembly on Friday. On Wednesday, I told her what to expect. I told her I would be dressed up and that the kids would probably laugh and that it was okay if they did. She responded by saying, "Okay, Mama. I'll laugh at you too."

On Friday morning, I greeted my class as they began their day and then changed and hid until it was time to go onstage. Some of the youngest children at our school, really believe that Maria Montessori flew all the way from Italy to visit their school. Meanwhile, one of my students called out, "Hey, Maria Montessori died and was reincarnated as Sarah!"

All in all, it was a fun morning for all. The youngest students sang about their school. The lower elementary students shared qualities that begin with the same letters as M-o-n-t-e-s-s-o-r-i, the upper elementary students shared a slide show and skits of Dr. Montessori's life, and the middle school students did some impromptu acting based on Montessori quotes. And through it all, Maria Montessori was the guest of honor.

Being Read Across America on the same day also had its perks. As I sat for a photo shoot after the assembly, the lower elementary students returned with the Cat in the Hat (one of their teachers had dressed up as the Cat and read to them). I smiled at her and said, "Hey, you're famous too!"

I wonder if Maria Montessori ever guessed she'd have her picture taken with a literary cat?

S.L. Wallace is the author of the Reliance on Citizens trilogy and Retrospection.