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Original stories, set in my own universe

Typical, 1/20/01

Samuel, 3/01

Darkness, 3/31/01

The Rain

Same Time Tomorrow?

Babylon 5 stories

David Sheridan Chronicles 1, 4/23/01

David Sheridan Chronicles 2, 4/25/01

David Sheridan Chronicles 3, 4/29/01

David Sheridan Chronicles 4-the end, 5/02/01

ISN Aftermath, 7/28/01

In Valen's Name, 5/01


ISN Anchor Desk - Original Short Stories

This story is based on a dream I had while working at the hospital. No, it is NOT a true story .. You may like it or hate it, that is completely up to you. :)


Samuel stepped off the elevator, entering the lobby of the hospital he’d worked at for the last 13 years.

13 years. So much had changed in that timespan. Four Presidents, and twice as many Directors had brought policies and ideas he could never have imagined before.

Samuel smiled as he passed the information desk, where fresh flowers were delivered almost daily by the attendant, Naomi.

Naomi returned his smile, then held up a solitary finger; a silent request for a moment of his time.

A few moments later, she had finished with the caller, and was able to devote her full attention to the man before her.

"Mornin’, Sugar," she purred, a thick Southern drawl drawing him in as always.

"And you, Kitten," he replied, falling into their usual pattern of early-morning chit-chat. "What’s the latest?"

"We had a g.s.w. come in last night. Poor thing was just taking a stroll at the mall, and these creeps came out of nowhere with guns. Next thing ya know, he’s here with half a dozen of them and he’s got the regs on his ass."

Great, Samuel thought. That means we’ll have a hallway filled with reporters until he starts talking. How do they always find out about these things, anyway?

"Any good news for me?"

"Well, I’m here. Aren’t I good enough to qualify?" she laughed. "Seriously, though, I went shopping last night and found this new store that carries real Lilac essential oils! Smells just like my momma’s kitchen in the spring!"

He sniffed the air, then said, "Naomi, if there is a way you could turn this entire hospital into North Georgia, you’d do it."

She smiled, then broke out in fits of laughter, before handing him the reports from the night before, topped by a delicately-wrapped bag with bright gold and pink ribbons. Samuel caught a whiff of lavender, lilac, and oatmeal, all in one.

"What’s this?" he asked, curiously.

"Just one of momma’s recipes. Tell me if ya like em, would ya, Sugar?"

"Absolutely! Thanks!"

"No problem, Sugar," she winked. "Now ya best git, cuz you’ve got a stack of papers on your desk a foot high!"

Samuel groaned, then grinned again, nodded, and said, "Until we meet again, fair Lady."

How bowed before her and then, arms full of papers and the homemade surprise-of-the-day, continued the short journey from the Info Desk to his office in Admitting/Records.

Samuel set the papers down on his desk, adding yet another pile to the mounds of paper that threatened to overtake the room.

There was a fairly consistent routine in his office. He would spend the first hour answering email requests and voice mail, then he would spend another hour checking over the night’s admissions, making sure their insurance checked out and that consent forms had been signed.

At 9:30, he would attend YAPM - Yet Another Pointless Meeting - with other managers, where he would sit in utter boredom while people who had no other joy in life but to hear themselves speak would yap and yap until 10 am, when they would go to another meeting that he was - blessedly - not required to attend. He would take a quick walk outside. Ten minutes of freedom that helped keep him sane, and then tackle the mounds of paper until 12:30.

Naomi would be ready for lunch, and they would meet in the cafeteria. There, they would spend time enjoying each others company, making small talk for an hour.

Between 1:30 and 2:30, he would work on getting some of the new Registrars up to speed, then YAPM.

He would spend the final hour and a half on paperwork, emails, and returning phone calls.

It was the same routine day after pointless day. It had been the same as five years ago, despite all the changes brought about by the various presidents and directors.

Samuel could not take another day. He’d had enough.

Reaching into the top right drawer of his sterile metal desk, he clasped the .45 he’d kept for the last two years. For emergencies, he’d told himself, and brought it to his temple.

His last thought was Never again.

Samuel pulled the trigger.