I got out of the Metroplex without being burnt to a crisp. God, it was hotter than hooey down there. Well, not at hot as, say Phoenix or Barstow, but hot. It was an oppressive heat that pushed down on you. In the desert it is hot, but it's more scorching or searing. The heat moves around and through you as it goes onto the next person. The heat during the past few day was personal. It was your heat. Your's alone.

One good thing about the heat was I was able to finish Chapter 14, which means Chapter 13 is free to be sent to the editor. Chapter 14 is primarily about Casey and Six.

And, then there's the Fall Anthology. I haven't been submitting anthology stories because I simply don't have the time to write. The mental problems and associated medicine make me too tired to write; and, the mental problems affect my internal communications in such a way that working on one project seems to be all I can accomplish.

Anyway, it seems my mind has latched onto the Ghost theme. Yesterday, as I was driving up US-287 between Wichita Falls and Amarillo, I saw a house that had seen better days and was, in all likelihood, abandoned. There were various items of rusting farm implements around and grass was atleast a foot high in places. There simply didn't seem to be any life in or around it.

I see lots of empty houses in my travels around the country, quite a few of them very, very old, but this house was from the Forties or Fifties. There was, also, a bell on a tall pole in the front yard that was rung with a rope attached by the front door.

My immediate reaction was someone died, but the family hadn't decided what to do with the place. The kids were at a quandry about tearing down Mom and Dad's house; or, worse, fixing it up and renting it.

I can't remember exactly where the house is, but it wasn't too close to any of the towns along that stretch of road. It was, like a lot of houses out on the prairie, out there all be its lonesome.

And, then my mind imagined a scenario, a horrible scene of murder/suicide, and a man in the mid to late thirties who has to live with this nightmare playing out in his head, until a lover finally shows up who is willing to help take the ghosts away.

I can't be positive this story will amount to anything, but as long as I'm between chapters on The Artists, I might as well find out.