Winnipeg Free Press

Winnipeg Free Press (Newspaper) - December 26, 2008, Winnipeg, Manitoba C m y k Page 1 Winnipeg free press Friday december 26, 2008 2009 Winnipeg free press writers collective non fiction contest winners comment editor Gerald flood 697 7269 Gerald. Flood free press. M. Ca Winnipeg repress. Com a 17 l arge bats with Orange wings terrify me. Fifty years and More have passed since my last encounter but the memory still fills me with a sense of dread. I was a Small child at the time aged six or possibly seven. It was certainly after my family had moved to the Quappelle Valley in 1950, and probably after i had started school in 1951. I think it was 1952, the year that the King died. I remember the Mournful music that played All Day on the radio. That might have been the music i heard in that Little room below the water Tower. But i am getting ahead of myself. Let me Start at the beginning. It starts with my Mother sending me to get some water. We did not have running water in those Days and we did not have a Well of our own. Our water came from the car water Tower which was a Short distance away. It was a tall octagonal building with wooden clapboard siding painted in that distinctive Colour we called car red. It was a wonderful place. The Centre of it was filled with the storage tank and equipment needed to service steam locomotives. There was a Walkway inside that ran along the perimeter. I would often do the entire Loop coming Back to where i started. It was a great place to hide when playing hide and go seek. You could stand on the Walkway As far away from the door As you could go. If you heard it looking for you All you had to do was keep a constant 180 degrees ahead of him and you would never be found. The water Tower also had a tap that delivered Clear cold fresh water from a Spring in the Hills. A White enamelled tin Mug Hung on a Hook by the tap for the use of thirsty railway workers. This was the tap that provided my family with drinking water. I was too Small at the time to carry a heavy pail of water. My Mother always sent me with a two quart Kettle. On this occasion i filled the Kettle and put it Down. I was supposed to come right Back Home but my feet had a will of their own and decided to do a Loop around the perimeter. I went slowly at first because my eyes were not accustomed to the Semi darkness. Half Way around i suddenly stopped. There was a Steep Little staircase to the right going Down into the Earth. I had never seen it before and was suddenly very afraid. But my feet still with that will of their own took to the stairs and Down we went my bold feet my timid brain and All the rest of me. There was a Long corridor at the Bottom of the stairs. It was very dark but in the distance Light poured from an open door. My feet headed for the Light. I soon found myself standing in the doorway of a very pleasant room. The Light came from a lamp hanging from a Hook in the ceiling. Somber music was playing in the background. An old lady was at a spinning wheel. She looked like a kind a gentle grandmother. I Felt reassured until she looked up and saw me. She did not smile. There was something very hideous about the look she gave me. She stood up. The lamp flickered and went out. I stood rooted to the spot. My feet refused to move. And then it happened she suddenly transformed herself into a very Large Bat much larger than i was. Her wings were Orange but not a solid Orange. They were marked with a Grid of horizontal and vertical Black lines dividing each Wing into numerous Orange squares. I screamed and screamed and screamed my Mother called my name and Shook me gently but i was slow to Wake up and the Nightmare was slow in receding. Even after i realized that i was in my own bed the sense of terror remained. I think i spent the rest of the night in my parents bed but i am not certain of that. What i do remember with clarity is the dream and How it was repeated night after night. Each time the dream seemed worse than the time before because now i knew what was going to happen. I would enter the water Tower vowing that this time i would fill the Kettle and go straight Home. But my feet refused to go along with that and i would find myself once again standing in the doorway looking into that pleasant room. This time i would plead with myself let her remain As a kindly grandmother. But that was not to be. My parents were very concerned with the nightly terrors. I was afraid to go to sleep at night and bedtime became a struggle. I heard my father Tell my Mother that this was the flying Iron All Over again. Until i heard them talk about it i had forgotten about the flying Iron. It had haunted my dreams when we lived in Ignace Ontario. I would have been three years old at the time. Following the traditional routine of the 1940s, my Mother washed clothes on monday and ironed on tuesday. We did not have electricity. She used a Coleman Iron which burned something called White gasoline. The Iron had a Little Gas tank on the Side painted a Robins egg Blue. I must have been warned that the Iron was something dangerous that i must not touch. Somehow it found its Way into my dreams where it acquired Large White Fluffy Feather wings and flew right at me. I do not know if those dreams had a narrative. I Only remember the fear. My father had not been surprised at my nightmares Back then. Something rather gruesome had happened in that House in Ignace before we moved in and he was convinced that the House was haunted. In those years he was interested in the paranormal. A life Long fan of fantasy and science fiction he read most of the pulp magazines during their Golden age. One of them called weird tale specialized in things that go bump in the night. But that did not explain Why i was having nightmares again three or four years later and two provinces away. Yet it was those science fiction magazines that rescued me from the bats with Orange wings. In one of them my father read an article about self hypnosis. He explained it to me and told me to say out loud the words i will not have any nightmares. I was to repeat these words ten times each night before going to sleep. He told me this would work and he said it with great Confidence. To me at that time he was the source of All Wisdom. I believed him. The nightmares vanished immediately. Fifty years and More have passed since that Day and i have not encountered another Bat with Orange wings. Tomorrow it was not right honourable mention bats with Orange wings by John Barsby the Challenge this year was to write 1,200 words on the theme i was never so scared. J Ohn Barsby of Winnipeg is no stranger to the Winnipeg free press writers collective writing contests. His Story about childhood nightmares above is the first of six winning entries in the 2008 non fiction contest that the free press is pleased to publish in this space Over the next week. Bars yes Story also Marks the third time in two years that his work has made it to the winners Circle he previously placed second in the 2006 non fiction contest and first in the 2006 fiction contest. That he has won three times is not what i wish to draw attention to however. Rather this is the third time that he has explored a tiny piece of what must have been an idyllic boyhood spent with a Loving family who moved about the country from one tiny whistle Stop to another As a result of his fathers Job with up rail. In the 12 years that i have judged this contest i have met and talked with Many Wannabe writers and read about 1,200 of their stories. So often what i see and hear is a lament that it is difficult to find things to write about by which it usually is meant that they Are Ordinary people who live Ordinary and mostly uneventful lives. Not Many of them have experienced As second place author Diana James of Beausejour did what it is like to be attacked by a Rabid Bear nor i imagine would they want to. The quest for an extraordinary Story in an otherwise Ordinary life often leads contestants to stories that Are big to them. The death of someone dear usually a Mother is a Story often submitted. But it is an Ordinary Story in the sense that each of us at some Point will experience it and we probably will experience it in much the same Way As everyone else. Which is not to say that it is unimportant but Only that it is not particularly compelling to others no matter How Heartfelt its inspiration or skilled its execution. Rather than searching for big stories contestants should instead follow bars yes example. Take the Little stories and examine them As closely and with As much detail As possible. Drill Down into your memory and mine the Gold you find there. In the Story above for example look at How much care and attention is paid to the simple act of going to fetch a Kettle of water not a pail of it that a Little boy could not handle. Paint not just the picture but the whole room even the whole gallery. If you think about it there is a Good Story in the most mundane things. Imagine the possibilities that making a Batch of cookies presents or better the possibilities that making a bed presents. Some years ago we changed the format of the contest from any non fiction Story to a More focused approach by issuing challenges to write on a theme. It was done in part to generate More variety to preclude writers from turning to the big stories in their lives births and deaths. But mostly it was done to Challenge contestants to find stories in unlikely places and to help them discover How Large and Rich is the pallet of even the most Ordinary and uneventful lives. The Challenge this year was to write on the theme i was never so scared. As bars yes Story today makes Clear scared does not have to mean that it is harrowing. Some of the winning stories this year certainly Are harrowing. As mentioned above Diana James writes about being attacked by a Rabid Bear. As harrowing As that certainly was it a snot the end of the Story. She told me the horror continued after the attack As she tried to get authorities to test the animal for rabies a tale for another year perhaps. Her Story appears dec. 30. On saturday Swan River English teacher Michelle Barteski tells of a school Yard tragedy that Cost a boy his life. On sunday Daniel j. Salomon of Winnipeg tells How something As simple As going to the bathroom can become a heart stopping conundrum. The third place Story by Ryan Greenspan of Winnipeg tells of fears that Are Only in his mind. It appears on tuesday. The 2008 first place Story appears on new years eve. Its author Kroa Bridgman is a 21 year old student in Winnipeg. She is in my experience the youngest person to win the non fiction contest a Good sign for the future. Altogether 97 people submitted stories. I sincerely wish you could read them All Well most of them. Its incredible the variety of experiences Manitoban have had being a boat person whose vessel is attacked by pirates who rape the women and girls to the shame and humiliation of All rescuing a family from a burning House escaping from East to West Germany of becoming entangled on a slow turning Industrial Drill and surviving of seeing your daughter trapped under Clear ice and smashing to her Rescue of being trapped on a rail line Between a Stone Wall and a sheer drop and on and on. Well done and Bravo see you next fall. Gerald. Flood free press. My. Ca Gerald flood dont just paint the picture paint the whole gallery a 17_ dec 26 08. Ind 1 12/ 25/ 08 4 51 49 pm ;