Refugee with a Levitating Cat: A Story of Survival

Reader Contribution by Geoff Taylor
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Imagine awaking suddenly. Imagine a northern view of a beautiful wooden church, fronted by a small paved road, speed limit 25 MPH in this quiet little backwater community. That was an odd dream. You are working on a book, and having lots of fun doing it, because you’ve finally broken through a writer’s block that has lasted a decade. Life is good.

It’s late afternoon, and you were napping, which is understandable because you’ve been writing all night on other projects, things that pay for this large room, the writer’s office in which you will live until the next book is finished. You get up, make the bed, vacuum, dust and starting hitting the keyboard.

Ten minutes go by. The cat is still asleep on the bed. Sound of tapping keys.

Now, imagine a 26-foot moving van coming from the north at high speed, veering on two wheels, and the thought balloon above your head reads: This vehicle could collide with the building in which you peacefully reside, and flatten you like a cockroach. All summed up in one word, the very same word found on every black box where the pilot or copilot sees what’s coming.

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