Richard Schiver

Tag: family

  • Weekly Writing Challenge 03/18/2026

    Weekly Writing Challenge 03/18/2026

    J is for Jogah, the little people continues.

    Several more blue spots opened into eyes that watched him as his father knelt beside him, his hand on Jeffery’s shoulder. He heard his father’s voice as if it were coming to him from a million miles away, repeating his name as those multiple eyes blinked in unison and an emptiness swelled up from the center of his mind to drag him into unconsciousness.

    He awoke to the soothing voice of his mother as she sang softly, a lullaby he remembered from his own earlier childhood. The sound of her voice made him feel safe and secure, the cool compress against his forehead helped ease the tension that had washed through him when those tiny eyes appeared in his muffin.

    He opened his eyes to find his mother sitting beside him. His father stood at the foot of his bed, watching with a concern expression.

    “Are you all right, buddy?” His father asked and Jeffery nodded.

    “Where are the movers?” Jeffery asked.

    “They had to go buddy, they had other jobs they needed to get done, why?’

    “I was just wondering,” he replied, he wanted to talk to that old man, ask him about the eyes in his muffin. Jeffery understood what was happening with the ghosts he’d seen, but the eyes had been something he’d never experienced before, and he didn’t understand what was happening. He hoped the old guy would understand, he would know the answer, but he was gone now, and he was alone with this problem. One he could not bring up to his parent’s no matter how comforting they seemed. They had sent him to see the counselor after his first encounter. They wouldn’t understand, they’d think he was still broken.

    In time Jeffery managed to get out of bed and joined his dad in the garage where he was getting the junk that had followed them from the city sorted out. It was becoming a typical day when from the house his mother called for his dad in a strained voice.

    “Wait right here, buddy. I’ll be back.”

    Jeffery stopped what he was doing and sat down to wait for his father. He could hear their conversation inside, coming to him through the open door. There was something unsettling in the tone of their voices. This was not a normal conversation. Something was wrong and Jeffery was about to go in to see what was happening when his father rushed back into the garage. His face carried an alarmed, yet hopeful expression that immediately set Jefferey on edge.

    “We’ve got to go to the hospital, grab a book or something, I don’t know how long we’ll be there,” he said as he went around to the driver’s side of the car, hitting the button for the garage door as he rounded the back end. Jeffery ran into the house, to his mother who sat in a kitchen chair, her hands cradling her belly.

    “Are you all right?” he asked.

    “It’s okay, baby, we have to go to the hospital, I think you’re sister is ready.”

    Jeffery raced to his room and retrieved one of his books, rejoining his parents out front as his dad helped his mom into the car.

    At the hospital Jeffery was taken to the waiting area by a young aid.

    “What are you reading?” she asked after getting him situated, her gaze dropping to the book in his hand. He glanced down and noted that he had brought one of his dad’s old Goosebumps books. The Ghost Next Door was the title and he felt a quick shiver when he realized what book he had grabbed.

    “I never read that one,” she said before she turned to the duty nurse to speak with her. Jeffery watched as she left the waiting area, his gaze tracking around the room until he saw an old lady wandering in from the hallway. She seemed so out of place, and he watched her for a moment before he realized what she was. The old lady seemed to glide right by the desk where the duty nurse sat, his gaze following her as she walked right into, and through the wall of the waiting room.   

    To be continued!

  • Navigating Life’s Paths: From Military to Author

    I grew up during the space race of the sixties. While the war in Vietnam raged my eyes turned to what waited for us beyond the earth’s atmosphere. I was a big fan of Star Trek, catching every new episode when it aired. I followed the moon landing like a religious zealot updating their progress daily as the they traveled to our closest neighbor. My father understood my obsession and on the night the video feed was broadcast live of Neil Armstrong stepping onto the surface of the moon, my father woke me up so we could watch it together.

    My goal in life was to work for NASA, to be involved in some way with the space program. I had the smarts, but for me school was boring. I had been offered a four-year scholarship to the University of Maryland, that I turned down. I wanted to see the world so I joined the military with the intention of learning how to work on missiles, a skill set I believed would put me on a path to NASA.

    Unfortunately, between the moon walk and my graduation from high school, my father became quite ill. He had type 1 diabetes. He always tried taking better care of himself but as was the case with this disease, no matter how hard you tried, it eventually got you. I had spoken to the recruiter about working on missiles, and was scheduled to report to basic in Fort Bliss, Texas for my training. With my dad not working because of his health I chose to go into combat arms, armor to be exact, for the enlistment bonus that would help save our home. Sadly, my dad passed eight months after I joined, and we lost our home a year later.

    While serving I had plenty of time to read, my tastes running to the more macabre as I devoured works by authors like Lovecraft, Richard Matheson, Graham Masterton, William Peter Blatty, to name a few.

    Would I do it differently if I had the chance. I doubt it. I enjoyed my time in the military, the friends I made, the places I saw, the brotherhood I became a part of. It became a big part of who I grew up to become. Who I am now. I know there are many different paths I could have taken to follow my dream, but a new dream emerged for me, one I played around with when I was in high school, and that is to write about the things I love.

    I still dream of going into space. I’ve watched all the movies, good, bad, indifferent. Alien, Start Wars, War of the Worlds, Interstellar, The Right Stuff, Armageddon. You name it, I’ve probably watched it. I also play a game called No Man’s Sky on my xbox. It gives me a chance to pretend, if only for a little while, that I’m exploring space. Here’s a little clip from gameplay.

    I’ve had many false starts with my writing, but now, at 66, I’m fully committed to finishing what I started to do. You may have noticed I’m now sharing a new sentence every day from my WIP I’ve titled Bitter Hollow. I do hope you’ll follow along. Here’s the link.

    https://richardschiver.com/my-journey-with-bitter-hollow-a-work-in-progress/

    Thanks for stopping by and listening to me rambling. I hope I haven’t bored you too much. Drop a comment below if your so inclined, I’d love to hear from you. I’d also appreciate a like, or a follow on social media.

    Thanks,

    Richard Schiver