You can check out my website at www.RDLarson.com or you can read my stories FOR FREE after you sign up at www.bookrix.com or you can BUY my book, EVIL ANGEL at Fictionwise.com and at www.Mobipocket.com and at Amazon.com
I got these flower seed pods on my fushia? Does anyone know what to do with them? No I am not making jelly either. Can you plant them?
Not a good year here for plants-- they are pitiful. Nor last year either. Just ask Al Gore!
What do you think about "The Super Congress"? Should we scream, laugh or worry? All three? Yeah maybe.
Bam is getting so grown-up; he isn't running off so much which is good because those pesky teen-age eagles are low flying these days.
Saturday night we hit a fox. It was almost across -- well past the yellow line. Then it turned and was hit by front and rear wheel. I felt so bad. I love them even though they eat chickens they also eat mice and rats. I think they are wonderful.http://animals.nationalgeographic.com/animals/mammals/red-fox/
Anyway I am still grieving. I remember one year the kits played tag in backyard in the moonlight. It was amazing.
Showing posts with label RD Larson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label RD Larson. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Thursday, July 7, 2011
You can read my stories FOR FREE after you sign up at www.bookrix.com or you can BUY my book, EVIL ANGEL at Fictionwise.com and at www.Mobipocket.com and at Amazon.com
Kira stepped out of the taxi into a driving rain at Fifth and Market and ducked under the overhang of the nearest building. She glanced at her watch, as she pushed a wet strand of dark hair back from her face. She had a golden alabaster skin that made her beautiful. Her hair was pulled back with a silver clip and her eyes held great curiosity in them. She shook the rain from flaps of her tan trench coat and glanced around.
She was an hour early for her appointment with her attorney so she might as well shop in the neighbor hood. She noticed an antique store on the opposite side of the street. She didn’t remember seeing it last month. Not many cars were around this early in the morning. She dashed over to it. Wei Loo's Antiquities, she read above the door. The windows had various statues and boxes stacked in them. Nothing unique or original, but still she had an hour to wander. A smell of mould and old papers mixed with a smoky berry smell seeped from the ill-fitting door.
She pushed the red door. It held but then gave way so quickly that she stumbled over the door sill. Kira entered the dim shop which was mostly lit by spotlights accentuating the artifacts from various Dynasties.
Temple dogs and dragons lived side by side in the antique dust. Masks and tassels hung from drawer pulls. Kira noticed a small old man sitting in a pool of dim light from a banker's lamp on a central table. A sweet aroma rose from his pipe.
She bowed toward him. He raised his head. "Good morning, my granddaughter ."
"Good morning, Grandfather,” Kira replied, using the respectful title. “I hope you are well."
"I am well. May I assist you?" His black eyes were hard and bright while wrinkles stitched his old face together. His hair was pulled back into a greyish queue.
"I'm just looking -- until my appointment. If something calls to me, I will ask you . . ." Kira let her voice trail away.
"Perhaps, something old will be of interest to you because you are young." The shopkeeper chuckled softly.
Kira smiled at him and continued her tour of the store. Each item was a story of the past. There were some replicas though. As she came up to a heavily lacquered chest, she notices a small drawer stood partly open. She pulled the tassel gently to open the drawer.
A bronze mirror lay in the drawer. Drawn ancient figures and designs covered the back of it. In the center stood a small knob. Augury? Some sort of omen? She gently took it out, admiring the fine work and beautiful details of the gods.
“Is this a replica of the mirrors from the Western Han Dynasty?” She turned to look at the old grandfather. He appeared to be asleep on his stool. A small pipe resting in a bowl gave a plume of scent to the room.
She held the mirror in both hands, turning it carefully. There were four gods on it. A tortoise and a snake drawn into one black creature represented the north. The second god was a red phoenix, the third one was a white tiger and the fourth was a the lucky blue dragon. The mirror felt warm in her hand.
“You don’t want that; it’s a poor copy,” said the grandfather shopkeeper, apparently having awoke. He drew in a breath through his porcelain Kiseru pipe. “It is similar to those of the Han Dynasty. Nevertheless, a poor copy. Who knows when it was made?”
“It’s very attractive all the same. I could never afford a true antique. What is the price?” Kira held the mirror against her body.
“I would sell it for only $6,000, since it’s a mere copy,” he said opening a local newspaper written with Chinese characters. “It won’t bring you luck, you know, because it isn't a true antique. Please look further, granddaughter.”
“To me it is a happy omen.”
Shock spread over the old man’s face. He had spoken too soon. He grunted and picked up an abacus. When they had finished their business, they bowed politely. Kira went away with her treasure wrapped in tissue in a plastic bag.
A thudding thrill hit her chest, nearly making her cry out in glee. It wasn’t a copy; it was authentic. Buyer, beware, she thought. Through the sleet-like rain, she stalked down the short block to her attorney’s office.
Bartoli and Sons was a typical city office on the seventh floor of an old building with a refurbished elevator and marble entry. Bartoli and his two sons were deadly serious and very devoted. No wonder her father had used them for everything. For his accusing foes and his many wives as well as his final will, the Baroli’s law firm stood for the time and the precision of the law. Her father, an honorable man, understood their philosophy just as they understood his.
Today they would read to her from her father’s will. Perhaps it would be Angelo. As the elder brother, he often took time to see her whereas his father had always seen her father. Generational law, he laughingly called it. Kira already knew that her father had left her all of his assets and nothing to his brother or his ex-wives. There are benefits to being an only child, she thought.
She waited impatiently as the receptionist took her name. She didn’t bother to sit, as she knew one of the Bartoli lawyers would not keep her waiting long.
“Kira, my dear, I would have sent a car for you. It’s pouring out there,” said the man as he opened the door. Anthony Bartoli at more than seventy had great dignity with erect posture and silver hair.
“Well, thank you for seeing me.” Kira offered her hand. His warm grip made her think of her own father. Her eyes filled with tears. She brushed them away.“Damn, I’m sorry. How silly of me.”
“No, not silly. You still miss him after seven months. I do, too.” Anthony said, putting an arm around her shoulders as they headed toward his office. “And the legal problem with the will has been exhausting for you as well.”
As they went through the tall panelled door, Kira saw that both Angelo and Rocco stood in the office. They greeted her and offered coffee, which Kira eagerly accepted.
When the steaming mug began to warm her hand, she sat down in the brown leather chair. Chitchat is over, she thought. Get on with it.
“We can read the outcome to you but we’ll send the papers with you if you like.” Rocco raised his bushy brows. Kira nodded. “In that case, we’ll tell you the results. The attorneys for your father’s brother and his ex-wives have offered to settle for three properties. Moreover, after taking it under advisement for the last three months, the plaintiffs have decided to not proceed further in their case. So your father’s fortune comes to you just as he wished.”
“Uncle Gai? How is he taking it?” Kira looked at them, trying to read their three swarthy faces. Oblique eyes crinkled at the edges.
Rocco said, “We’ve just heard that your uncle has had the misfortune of being diagnosed with dementia and will have to have twenty-four hour care. I spoke to his wife early yesterday and she told me that not only he is abusive to her but he has taken to walking away. She is afraid that he’ll be hurt.”
“Good Lord, he is a terror. They’ll have to put him in a strait-jacket!” Visions of her Uncle Gai’s six-foot frame restrained made her slightly hysterical. Laughter bubbled in her chest.
“I gather he told his wife he would send her back to Manchuria. Mrs Sung has already filed the paper work. He will be taken to Dunn’s Gateway Home.”
“I can’t believe it. He’s always had such personal power, such fierceness,” Kira said, her eyes looking at her hands. “Like my father but far more selfish, less respectable. I wondered sometimes if he skated around, you know, legally.” When Kira looked up, Paolo smiled at her.
“Don’t worry, Miss Sung, the poor old fellow has lost his mind. You’re not going to have to deal with him any longer.” Paolo, the younger of the brothers, had always fancied her, even once asking her to dinner.
Kira stood. “As I have a noon meeting, I really need to go. You will continue to represent me as you did my father. Thank you and let me know when the funds have been transferred to my bank.”
“Yes, of course, Miss Sung.” Old Anthony stood as she did and walked with her to the door. Kira patted his upper arm and murmured a low thank you. With great relief, she walked through the reception room and into the hall.
As she stepped into the elevator, she remembered her shopping bag, and peered into it. There was her wonderful mirror, bought and paid for, her very own piece of the past. She whispered softly, “I respect you, ancestors.”
She drove to her condominium, parking in the underground garage. As she took the elevator up to her floor, she thought about the generosity of her father. He had never offered her money. She had paid her own way through college and bought her own car. She had finally bought this condo just last year. Although she knew he loved her, he told her many times that life could be hard and that he wanted her to be independent.
As she unlocked the door and went in, the back of her neck prickled as the hairs stood up. She looked around carefully. She had learned to trust her instincts in the art-dealing world. Liars abound wherever money changes hands, she knew. Nothing seemed amiss.
Kira carried the bag with the bronze mirror to the couch. As she sat down, she sighed. She couldn’t believe her good fortune, the blessing of the blue dragon, one of the figures raised on a quadrant of the mirror. Her lucky blue dragon! Her slim finger touched it, calling for good fortune.
Standing, she took a Ming Dynasty plate from its stand on the mantle of the electric fireplace. Kira placed it in the book self with her statues of palace dogs. Then she placed the mirror in the exact center of her mantle. It caught the light from the window and the sliding door that led to her small balcony. The antique mirror held a fractured and shadowed outline of her bamboo plant. She peered at her own image.
Not too young any more. Nor too old. The perfect age, she thought. Then thinking of her inheritance, she knew she would travel now. She had been to Hong Kong and Tokyo Still, many places intrigued her, and not just the art but always the culture. She thought as she stared out at the continuing rain, that she would first go to New Zealand, where it would be summer.
She turned and went into her bedroom. Feminine and flowery with an Asian tone, it suited her. She stepped out of her shoes and dress, walking toward her small bathroom.
As she pushed the door open, she gasped. Then a terrified scream rose from deep inside her body. Before she could let out a sound Uncle Gai had pressed a stiletto against her pale throat, slicing downward. As he pulled the bloody knife away, she cried out. A thin trickle of blood spread down her front. It did not hurt but bled.
“Why? Why, Uncle?”
“You and your dog of a father! Always cheating me out of my own money! Always! Worthless girl. Art! Bah! You couldn’t get a real job.” Uncle Gai pushed her back into the bedroom. His eyes were an evil square, glassy and surrounded by a yellowed white. Kira’s own blood shined slick on the thin blade of the knife.
“If I can’t have my money, do you think I will let you take it?” He stepped closer as Kira backed away. Fearful that he would kill her, she tried to think but only a blur filled her thoughts. His mouth opened, drooling spittle flicked onto her slip and neck. “Daughter of a liar and thief. You will not live to see me suffer.”
She turned, nearly running as his claw-like hands reached out to snatch her slip. She felt herself falling backward and gave a hard push with her feet. As she bounded forward, she pulled him off balance enough to get a few steps away. Yet he was between her and the door!
Uncle Gai laughed, his eyes becoming mere slits. “You fool of a girl. I will make you rue the day of your birth.”
He came at her again. Kira backed away -- away-- from the insane old man. Then quickly past him, she ran into the living room He trapped her by the couch, his stiletto pointed at her throat again. She backed up, reaching blindly behind herself for one of the heavy temple dogs. The knife flashed near her arm. Then near her face. Quickly it cut again at her throat.
The pain made her gasp. “Aieee!”
She fell against the mantle when her Uncle crouched with the knife now pointed at her heart. Flaying her arms behind her, she found the bronze mirror. Without knowing, with only senseless terror, she flung it at him.
The mirror caught him just above the ear with a wide cut. As Uncle Gai fell forward, the pointed knife slid into his gut, drawing a wound that penetrated his bowels, vividly pink and pulsing, which pushed out. He fell heavily to the carpet; blood everywhere.
Kira shrieked and shrieked. As he lay there twitching, she finally was able to control herself enough to call 911. Blood from her neck cuts ran down her torn slip on to her arms and even on her hands. Numbly she saw her own blood smear the numbers on the phone.
“Nine-one-one. Emergency. How can we help you?”
Kira gasped out, “My uncle tried to kill me. He’s here. I’m bleeding; I’ve been cut. He fell on his knife. He’s hurt. Please help me!”
“Medical and police are on their way. Your address?”
“I'm at 209 Green Lantern Lane. Hurry, hurry.” As Kira slipped to the floor, she picked up the bronze mirror with its four gods, not the least of which was the lucky blue dragon. She trembled, shivering as she could smell the aroma of a sweet briar pipe.
As she gripped her unbroken treasure, her Uncle Gai groaned once and died.
The Ancient Mirror
By
RD Larson
By
RD Larson
Kira stepped out of the taxi into a driving rain at Fifth and Market and ducked under the overhang of the nearest building. She glanced at her watch, as she pushed a wet strand of dark hair back from her face. She had a golden alabaster skin that made her beautiful. Her hair was pulled back with a silver clip and her eyes held great curiosity in them. She shook the rain from flaps of her tan trench coat and glanced around.
She was an hour early for her appointment with her attorney so she might as well shop in the neighbor hood. She noticed an antique store on the opposite side of the street. She didn’t remember seeing it last month. Not many cars were around this early in the morning. She dashed over to it. Wei Loo's Antiquities, she read above the door. The windows had various statues and boxes stacked in them. Nothing unique or original, but still she had an hour to wander. A smell of mould and old papers mixed with a smoky berry smell seeped from the ill-fitting door.
She pushed the red door. It held but then gave way so quickly that she stumbled over the door sill. Kira entered the dim shop which was mostly lit by spotlights accentuating the artifacts from various Dynasties.
Temple dogs and dragons lived side by side in the antique dust. Masks and tassels hung from drawer pulls. Kira noticed a small old man sitting in a pool of dim light from a banker's lamp on a central table. A sweet aroma rose from his pipe.
She bowed toward him. He raised his head. "Good morning, my granddaughter ."
"Good morning, Grandfather,” Kira replied, using the respectful title. “I hope you are well."
"I am well. May I assist you?" His black eyes were hard and bright while wrinkles stitched his old face together. His hair was pulled back into a greyish queue.
"I'm just looking -- until my appointment. If something calls to me, I will ask you . . ." Kira let her voice trail away.
"Perhaps, something old will be of interest to you because you are young." The shopkeeper chuckled softly.
Kira smiled at him and continued her tour of the store. Each item was a story of the past. There were some replicas though. As she came up to a heavily lacquered chest, she notices a small drawer stood partly open. She pulled the tassel gently to open the drawer.
A bronze mirror lay in the drawer. Drawn ancient figures and designs covered the back of it. In the center stood a small knob. Augury? Some sort of omen? She gently took it out, admiring the fine work and beautiful details of the gods.
“Is this a replica of the mirrors from the Western Han Dynasty?” She turned to look at the old grandfather. He appeared to be asleep on his stool. A small pipe resting in a bowl gave a plume of scent to the room.
She held the mirror in both hands, turning it carefully. There were four gods on it. A tortoise and a snake drawn into one black creature represented the north. The second god was a red phoenix, the third one was a white tiger and the fourth was a the lucky blue dragon. The mirror felt warm in her hand.
“You don’t want that; it’s a poor copy,” said the grandfather shopkeeper, apparently having awoke. He drew in a breath through his porcelain Kiseru pipe. “It is similar to those of the Han Dynasty. Nevertheless, a poor copy. Who knows when it was made?”
“It’s very attractive all the same. I could never afford a true antique. What is the price?” Kira held the mirror against her body.
“I would sell it for only $6,000, since it’s a mere copy,” he said opening a local newspaper written with Chinese characters. “It won’t bring you luck, you know, because it isn't a true antique. Please look further, granddaughter.”
“To me it is a happy omen.”
Shock spread over the old man’s face. He had spoken too soon. He grunted and picked up an abacus. When they had finished their business, they bowed politely. Kira went away with her treasure wrapped in tissue in a plastic bag.
A thudding thrill hit her chest, nearly making her cry out in glee. It wasn’t a copy; it was authentic. Buyer, beware, she thought. Through the sleet-like rain, she stalked down the short block to her attorney’s office.
Bartoli and Sons was a typical city office on the seventh floor of an old building with a refurbished elevator and marble entry. Bartoli and his two sons were deadly serious and very devoted. No wonder her father had used them for everything. For his accusing foes and his many wives as well as his final will, the Baroli’s law firm stood for the time and the precision of the law. Her father, an honorable man, understood their philosophy just as they understood his.
Today they would read to her from her father’s will. Perhaps it would be Angelo. As the elder brother, he often took time to see her whereas his father had always seen her father. Generational law, he laughingly called it. Kira already knew that her father had left her all of his assets and nothing to his brother or his ex-wives. There are benefits to being an only child, she thought.
She waited impatiently as the receptionist took her name. She didn’t bother to sit, as she knew one of the Bartoli lawyers would not keep her waiting long.
“Kira, my dear, I would have sent a car for you. It’s pouring out there,” said the man as he opened the door. Anthony Bartoli at more than seventy had great dignity with erect posture and silver hair.
“Well, thank you for seeing me.” Kira offered her hand. His warm grip made her think of her own father. Her eyes filled with tears. She brushed them away.“Damn, I’m sorry. How silly of me.”
“No, not silly. You still miss him after seven months. I do, too.” Anthony said, putting an arm around her shoulders as they headed toward his office. “And the legal problem with the will has been exhausting for you as well.”
As they went through the tall panelled door, Kira saw that both Angelo and Rocco stood in the office. They greeted her and offered coffee, which Kira eagerly accepted.
When the steaming mug began to warm her hand, she sat down in the brown leather chair. Chitchat is over, she thought. Get on with it.
“We can read the outcome to you but we’ll send the papers with you if you like.” Rocco raised his bushy brows. Kira nodded. “In that case, we’ll tell you the results. The attorneys for your father’s brother and his ex-wives have offered to settle for three properties. Moreover, after taking it under advisement for the last three months, the plaintiffs have decided to not proceed further in their case. So your father’s fortune comes to you just as he wished.”
“Uncle Gai? How is he taking it?” Kira looked at them, trying to read their three swarthy faces. Oblique eyes crinkled at the edges.
Rocco said, “We’ve just heard that your uncle has had the misfortune of being diagnosed with dementia and will have to have twenty-four hour care. I spoke to his wife early yesterday and she told me that not only he is abusive to her but he has taken to walking away. She is afraid that he’ll be hurt.”
“Good Lord, he is a terror. They’ll have to put him in a strait-jacket!” Visions of her Uncle Gai’s six-foot frame restrained made her slightly hysterical. Laughter bubbled in her chest.
“I gather he told his wife he would send her back to Manchuria. Mrs Sung has already filed the paper work. He will be taken to Dunn’s Gateway Home.”
“I can’t believe it. He’s always had such personal power, such fierceness,” Kira said, her eyes looking at her hands. “Like my father but far more selfish, less respectable. I wondered sometimes if he skated around, you know, legally.” When Kira looked up, Paolo smiled at her.
“Don’t worry, Miss Sung, the poor old fellow has lost his mind. You’re not going to have to deal with him any longer.” Paolo, the younger of the brothers, had always fancied her, even once asking her to dinner.
Kira stood. “As I have a noon meeting, I really need to go. You will continue to represent me as you did my father. Thank you and let me know when the funds have been transferred to my bank.”
“Yes, of course, Miss Sung.” Old Anthony stood as she did and walked with her to the door. Kira patted his upper arm and murmured a low thank you. With great relief, she walked through the reception room and into the hall.
As she stepped into the elevator, she remembered her shopping bag, and peered into it. There was her wonderful mirror, bought and paid for, her very own piece of the past. She whispered softly, “I respect you, ancestors.”
She drove to her condominium, parking in the underground garage. As she took the elevator up to her floor, she thought about the generosity of her father. He had never offered her money. She had paid her own way through college and bought her own car. She had finally bought this condo just last year. Although she knew he loved her, he told her many times that life could be hard and that he wanted her to be independent.
As she unlocked the door and went in, the back of her neck prickled as the hairs stood up. She looked around carefully. She had learned to trust her instincts in the art-dealing world. Liars abound wherever money changes hands, she knew. Nothing seemed amiss.
Kira carried the bag with the bronze mirror to the couch. As she sat down, she sighed. She couldn’t believe her good fortune, the blessing of the blue dragon, one of the figures raised on a quadrant of the mirror. Her lucky blue dragon! Her slim finger touched it, calling for good fortune.
Standing, she took a Ming Dynasty plate from its stand on the mantle of the electric fireplace. Kira placed it in the book self with her statues of palace dogs. Then she placed the mirror in the exact center of her mantle. It caught the light from the window and the sliding door that led to her small balcony. The antique mirror held a fractured and shadowed outline of her bamboo plant. She peered at her own image.
Not too young any more. Nor too old. The perfect age, she thought. Then thinking of her inheritance, she knew she would travel now. She had been to Hong Kong and Tokyo Still, many places intrigued her, and not just the art but always the culture. She thought as she stared out at the continuing rain, that she would first go to New Zealand, where it would be summer.
She turned and went into her bedroom. Feminine and flowery with an Asian tone, it suited her. She stepped out of her shoes and dress, walking toward her small bathroom.
As she pushed the door open, she gasped. Then a terrified scream rose from deep inside her body. Before she could let out a sound Uncle Gai had pressed a stiletto against her pale throat, slicing downward. As he pulled the bloody knife away, she cried out. A thin trickle of blood spread down her front. It did not hurt but bled.
“Why? Why, Uncle?”
“You and your dog of a father! Always cheating me out of my own money! Always! Worthless girl. Art! Bah! You couldn’t get a real job.” Uncle Gai pushed her back into the bedroom. His eyes were an evil square, glassy and surrounded by a yellowed white. Kira’s own blood shined slick on the thin blade of the knife.
“If I can’t have my money, do you think I will let you take it?” He stepped closer as Kira backed away. Fearful that he would kill her, she tried to think but only a blur filled her thoughts. His mouth opened, drooling spittle flicked onto her slip and neck. “Daughter of a liar and thief. You will not live to see me suffer.”
She turned, nearly running as his claw-like hands reached out to snatch her slip. She felt herself falling backward and gave a hard push with her feet. As she bounded forward, she pulled him off balance enough to get a few steps away. Yet he was between her and the door!
Uncle Gai laughed, his eyes becoming mere slits. “You fool of a girl. I will make you rue the day of your birth.”
He came at her again. Kira backed away -- away-- from the insane old man. Then quickly past him, she ran into the living room He trapped her by the couch, his stiletto pointed at her throat again. She backed up, reaching blindly behind herself for one of the heavy temple dogs. The knife flashed near her arm. Then near her face. Quickly it cut again at her throat.
The pain made her gasp. “Aieee!”
She fell against the mantle when her Uncle crouched with the knife now pointed at her heart. Flaying her arms behind her, she found the bronze mirror. Without knowing, with only senseless terror, she flung it at him.
The mirror caught him just above the ear with a wide cut. As Uncle Gai fell forward, the pointed knife slid into his gut, drawing a wound that penetrated his bowels, vividly pink and pulsing, which pushed out. He fell heavily to the carpet; blood everywhere.
Kira shrieked and shrieked. As he lay there twitching, she finally was able to control herself enough to call 911. Blood from her neck cuts ran down her torn slip on to her arms and even on her hands. Numbly she saw her own blood smear the numbers on the phone.
“Nine-one-one. Emergency. How can we help you?”
Kira gasped out, “My uncle tried to kill me. He’s here. I’m bleeding; I’ve been cut. He fell on his knife. He’s hurt. Please help me!”
“Medical and police are on their way. Your address?”
“I'm at 209 Green Lantern Lane. Hurry, hurry.” As Kira slipped to the floor, she picked up the bronze mirror with its four gods, not the least of which was the lucky blue dragon. She trembled, shivering as she could smell the aroma of a sweet briar pipe.
As she gripped her unbroken treasure, her Uncle Gai groaned once and died.
End
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
So if Crazy Hair Trump who has more money that all of us can't prove Obama WASN'T born in the ol' USA
what does that say about his power? C'mon, the guy is a reality TV star who makes others look stupid through the work of gifted writers. I don't think anyone will vote for him.
I have a new story, a month's diary called Ramona's Barcelona Diary up at www.bookrix.com It's a contest but you don't have to vote. Read on while I write on. I write -- you read!
Sunday, February 20, 2011
You can read my stories FOR FREE after you sign up at www.bookrix.com or you can BUY my book, EVIL ANGEL at Fictionwise.com and at www.Mobipocket.com and at Amazon.com
I also have a new story up at Amazon.com Kindle Singles called The Whimsy and it is a Gothic Horror set in Scotland in the 1880's. It is only $0.99 to download to your Kindle, PC Kindle, Droid Kindle or Ipod Kindle.
I am thinking this stalemate between the Republicans and the Democrats are going to cause many of us to vote out the incumbents.
My dogs are so sweet. They love their walks. They love me. They love to lay in front of the fire place. Our lives should be so uncomplicated. Or should they?
Friday, February 11, 2011
Egypt, Dogs, Written Words
You can read my stories FOR FREE after you sign up at www.bookrix.com or you can BUY my book, EVIL ANGEL at Fictionwise.com and others at www.Mobipocket.com and at Amazon.com
I am happy for Egypt. I think it is a wonderful beautiful country and I think they will move forward in a sane and solid manner. My best wishes for all of the people there. You are an inspiration to the world. I honor you.
My dogs are well and happy. Bam can't eat some things that other dogs can so he is more like me than not.
I am writing an new novella about embezzlement and it is called "Face the Rain"!
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
You can check out my website at www.RDLarson.com or you can read my stories FOR FREE after you sign up at www.bookrix.com or you can BUY my book, EVIL ANGEL at Fictionwise.com and at www.Mobipocket.com and at Amazon.com
Writing is a great thing for me to do. All those stories, and all those people living out their lives in my head. The second best part is for me to have readers (just like you!) that continually read my stories and tell me how you feel. Thanks a million! I am so grateful to you all.
Writing is a great thing for me to do. All those stories, and all those people living out their lives in my head. The second best part is for me to have readers (just like you!) that continually read my stories and tell me how you feel. Thanks a million! I am so grateful to you all.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
oh not again
You can check out my website at www.RDLarson.com or you can read my stories FOR FREE after you sign up at www.bookrix.com or you can BUY my book, EVIL ANGEL at Fictionwise.com and at www.Mobipocket.com and at Amazon.com
Here I go again. Another surgery! Not so bad this time I think. Got some good research done in Memphis as well as visiting with family near there. If you by some chance stumble across this blog, please read some of my work since I write for you. okay? deal? okay.
Here I go again. Another surgery! Not so bad this time I think. Got some good research done in Memphis as well as visiting with family near there. If you by some chance stumble across this blog, please read some of my work since I write for you. okay? deal? okay.
Friday, June 11, 2010
You can check out my website at www.RDLarson.com or you can read my stories FOR FREE after you sign up at www.bookrix.com or you can BUY my book, EVIL ANGEL at Fictionwise.com and at www.Mobipocket.com and at Amazon.com
I really worked to get Obama elected but he sure seems to be a hands-off guy. He has to take charge of the people in charge. People aren't always doing what they are supposed to do. DANG!
I guess I think the dogs are just wonderful. Especially Bambi. He is still a baby in so many ways. He does an arabesque after his business and it is very elegant but funny. He tangles himself in ferns and can't figure out how he got there. He chases moths and wants to eat them but then opens his mouth 'cause they aren't tasty to him and there is the poor nearly dead moth falling off his silly tongue.
I feel very stressed these days. Nobody reads this so I am perfectly safe in saying that. I am also sure not very many people read my work. Maybe nobody reads much any more. I find it harder to get into a TV show than a good book but then I am old. I even like ebooks. I love the Internet. There is always something to read. I am going to ignore being anxious and just go along doing what I can do each day.
I really worked to get Obama elected but he sure seems to be a hands-off guy. He has to take charge of the people in charge. People aren't always doing what they are supposed to do. DANG!
I guess I think the dogs are just wonderful. Especially Bambi. He is still a baby in so many ways. He does an arabesque after his business and it is very elegant but funny. He tangles himself in ferns and can't figure out how he got there. He chases moths and wants to eat them but then opens his mouth 'cause they aren't tasty to him and there is the poor nearly dead moth falling off his silly tongue.
I feel very stressed these days. Nobody reads this so I am perfectly safe in saying that. I am also sure not very many people read my work. Maybe nobody reads much any more. I find it harder to get into a TV show than a good book but then I am old. I even like ebooks. I love the Internet. There is always something to read. I am going to ignore being anxious and just go along doing what I can do each day.
Friday, June 4, 2010
The Hell It is!
You can check out my website at www.RDLarson.com or you can read my stories FOR FREE after you sign up at www.bookrix.com or you can BUY my book, EVIL ANGEL at Fictionwise.com and at www.Mobipocket.com and at Amazon.com
I am so disgusted that nobody seems to be up in arms about this leaking well. I would think thousands and thousands of people would line the beaches with pantie hose filled with cut hair from beauty shops waiting to suck up the damn oil.
This is actually what we deserve for using so much energy in this country. India is the GREENEST country according to CNN. And I want to know why? Do they live in dark? Go to bed with the sun? Take a shower once a week? Walk to any nearby market for whatever food there is? What the hell do they do? Do they have a higher rate of disease because of poor hygiene?
OMG, the possibilities are endless. We turned of one television and save $30. I am the first one to say we don't do enough but so are you and you too. What the hell are we going to do?
I'd say that about now we're screwed environmentally. Another case of no exit strategy.
I am so disgusted that nobody seems to be up in arms about this leaking well. I would think thousands and thousands of people would line the beaches with pantie hose filled with cut hair from beauty shops waiting to suck up the damn oil.
This is actually what we deserve for using so much energy in this country. India is the GREENEST country according to CNN. And I want to know why? Do they live in dark? Go to bed with the sun? Take a shower once a week? Walk to any nearby market for whatever food there is? What the hell do they do? Do they have a higher rate of disease because of poor hygiene?
OMG, the possibilities are endless. We turned of one television and save $30. I am the first one to say we don't do enough but so are you and you too. What the hell are we going to do?
I'd say that about now we're screwed environmentally. Another case of no exit strategy.
Friday, March 5, 2010
You can check out my website at www.RDLarson.com or you can read my stories FOR FREE after you sign up at www.bookrix.com or you can BUY my book, EVIL ANGEL at Fictionwise.com and at www.Mobipocket.com and at Amazon.com
Writers have to drive themselves to be sociable. Writing is a solitary existence. We need that peace and quiet to write. I am pretty focused when I write. I often don't hear the phone or the door or even being called.
I often carry my "story" around in my mind and if I don't recognise you in the grocery store, please tell me who you are. I am probably working on plot kinks.
So here's a free story:
http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/RDLarson/518544/ Write a comment so I don't feel like John the Baptist crying in the wilderness. Or whoever it was. Islands aren't real wilderness to me.
Good luck and Good day!
Writers have to drive themselves to be sociable. Writing is a solitary existence. We need that peace and quiet to write. I am pretty focused when I write. I often don't hear the phone or the door or even being called.
I often carry my "story" around in my mind and if I don't recognise you in the grocery store, please tell me who you are. I am probably working on plot kinks.
So here's a free story:
http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/RDLarson/518544/ Write a comment so I don't feel like John the Baptist crying in the wilderness. Or whoever it was. Islands aren't real wilderness to me.
Good luck and Good day!
Monday, February 22, 2010
Sick of it!
You can check out my website at www.RDLarson.com or you can read my stories FOR FREE after you sign up at www.bookrix.com or you can BUY my book, EVIL ANGEL at Fictionwise.com and at www.Mobipocket.com and at Amazon.com
I am sick of writing political blogs! Not writing any more.
I am not sick of dogs! I want another one! I miss Zippy! But I am not writing doggie splash any more!
I love to write so instead of links to what I've have up I am going to write about writing. Of course I might still let you know when something gets published or epublished. Everyone has a Kindle these days and I think I have at least five books at fictionwise that you can get on your Kindle.
But mostly I am going to write about being a writer and the pain it entails. Not one person admits it -- it is killing to be a writer and I am going to tell the whole truth about it. I love to write; I do. And I will never stop. But I guess I will confess some of the awful truths as I see them. I am going to rant and rave. So don't bother to read it. Oh maybe once in a while you will get some golden words but omg don't hold your breath.
Writing is hard. That is the first commandment of writing. It is damn hard and it is never easy. So before you write and tell me you want to be a writer, think about the hell it will put you through.
Remember the Shining? Remember Nicholson? He wasn't CRAZY -- He was a writer!
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Doggie Splash, Political Slash, and Fiction Flash
You can check out my website at www.RDLarson.com or you can read my stories FOR FREE after you sign up at www.bookrix.com or you can BUY my stories at Fictionwise.com and at www.Mobipocket.com
Doggie Splash: Faline has been chasing mousies every night. She corners them in the wood pile and we set a trap where she can't get it. Then she comes in and we wait for action. She is the Huntress of Islewood Cottage!
Political Slash: Just saw Cheney on CNN. Who wants to listen to that old windbag? All I have in common with him is a pace maker. I wish he would shut up. I am mad at CNN for giving him air time. CNN and Anderson Cooper gave too much time to Rush Cheney and the octomom! Who really cares? Nobody but airheads that's who. Of course I don't mean YOU.
Fiction Flash: New stories from me at http://www.bookrix.com/ including a Christmas story with Albert Einstein as a character, egg nog and time travel. You can't go wrong with mix! There are others as well including the prize winning Losing Touch. My book Evil Angel has been re-released and now is available for download at Cambridge Books, writewords.com, fictionwise.com or mobipockets.com and of course amazon.com. A straight link to my book Evil Angel is
Saturday, March 7, 2009
The Gradephy Award for Literary Achievement
You can check out my website at http://www.rdlarson.com/
It isn't every day that you have a dream come true. For my friend, Susan Wingate, today was the day her dream came true. Literally and fictionally. She had a dream that she won The Gradephy Award for Literary Achievement. NOW GO THERE AND READ WHAT HAPPENED NEXT!
Now if we can get Pamela Sue, Paris Hilton and Oprah to support this Award we'll be thrilled. Not to mention if we get Barack Obama to say this is an America Award which is born of dreams. LOL. (NOT little old lady, either!)
So when she woke up she told her husband. Then she put it on Facebook Wasn't that smart? She is very smart and if you think making up your own Literary Award from a dream is fun, you should read her book, Bobby's Diner. It's about a wife and an ex-wife that inherit the deceased hubby's dinner. Cats do fight, ya know. Go to get her book at Amazon.
You can also order a copy of my book Evil Angel at Writewords So read it already. Obsessed woman tries to hold on to what she thinks is HER man. Suspense thriller set in Aspen, CO. Not for prudes. Adult readers only.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Cover for The Whimsy soon free to read again.
You can check out my website at www.RDLarson.com
I think Obama is doing pretty good. It's only been a month but the talking heads of television are acting like it's a year. What gives with them? And all the dwelling on the Octomom? It's her life. LOTS of people with LOTS of kids are on the public dole. What do people want? Mass sterilization? People wouldn't do that if they thought having kids was the most important thing in their life. I personally think one and possible an adopted child is the perfect family. There's too many people on the planet now.
So how are you doing at going green? Every day I work at it. Also I'm frugal and proud of it. I have been buy "consignment clothes" for years and also other stuff.
I still MISS Zippy. I miss his big eyes and his cuddly nature. He was such a dear just like Max was. I love Faline but she's not the same. She's different, she's got her own agenda and she sticks to it. She is HIS DOG. But like I said I lover her.
I am tired more than I like to be. What's with that?
I think Obama's election has made people more tolerant of color. I sure hope so. I might be black somewhere in my past; if so I good with that. If not that's okay too.
I want to write literary stories and not commercial fiction but I don't think I can.
Go to Bookrix.com or Bewildering Stories.com or Fictionwise.com to read my books or stories. Soon they will be at a new place. Come back.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Obama for President
You can check out my website at www.RDLarson.com
Okay, I can't help writing about this election. What are the Republicans doing? I know Tushi Bushi sucked but to let that make the whole party fall into chaos is unreal. Para-Sailin' drag the He-row into the slim from which she cam is dire. It's sad. No platform, no sense, no way.
I would much rather have a calm, principled and dedicated man like Obama any day. He is genuine and sincere. I urge you to go out and vote for him. You will be able to tell your children that you voted for that president that cared so much. Don't put it off -- if you have mail-in ballots send them after you mark Obama and if you're going to the polls, vote for him them. You know it's the best choice.
I know my whole, ever-so-wonderful family, is going to vote this year. I am so proud of them.
Okay, I can't help writing about this election. What are the Republicans doing? I know Tushi Bushi sucked but to let that make the whole party fall into chaos is unreal. Para-Sailin' drag the He-row into the slim from which she cam is dire. It's sad. No platform, no sense, no way.
I would much rather have a calm, principled and dedicated man like Obama any day. He is genuine and sincere. I urge you to go out and vote for him. You will be able to tell your children that you voted for that president that cared so much. Don't put it off -- if you have mail-in ballots send them after you mark Obama and if you're going to the polls, vote for him them. You know it's the best choice.
I know my whole, ever-so-wonderful family, is going to vote this year. I am so proud of them.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
No Politics for a while!
You can check out my website at http://www.rdlarson.com/
I am busy with my writing and cleaning up my flower garden so I am going to take some time off my political rantings. My beloved is going to carry on for me in his own blog. I have two blogs to add one for Annika and one for Lainey. If you check them out I know you will smile. These are very very very young women whom I admire and enjoy.
Annika: http://purlaround.blogspot.com/
Lainey: http://freehardt.blogspot.com/
I am lucky to be so VERY grown-up and have such a wonderful spouse for all these years and a wonderful family as well. I am also very grateful for those of you who read my work -- all the stories, novella, novels and articles -- I love my work and will be writing for the next 35 years one way or another so stay tuned.
I am busy with my writing and cleaning up my flower garden so I am going to take some time off my political rantings. My beloved is going to carry on for me in his own blog. I have two blogs to add one for Annika and one for Lainey. If you check them out I know you will smile. These are very very very young women whom I admire and enjoy.
Annika: http://purlaround.blogspot.com/
Lainey: http://freehardt.blogspot.com/
I am lucky to be so VERY grown-up and have such a wonderful spouse for all these years and a wonderful family as well. I am also very grateful for those of you who read my work -- all the stories, novella, novels and articles -- I love my work and will be writing for the next 35 years one way or another so stay tuned.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Just when you thought it was safe
You can check out my website at www.RDLarson.com
POLITICAL SLASH
I get so torqued out about all the slamming of the candidates. And you know who is at fault? The stupid news medias, CNN, FOX, ABC, CBS, MS NBC and multiple others. What do they think? That these candidates for PRESIDENT are somehow really rock stars like Brittany or publicity hogs like Paris? Their personal lives do matter but the lengths to which these media moguls scramble for do not exist. Good Grief! Give IT a rest. So what does it matter if this wife or that guy said something off? Or the Candidate stumbles? Let me see you talk for 17 months straight and not repeat yourself! Okay, end of soap box tirade!
DOGGIE SPLASH
Zippy had his third "arm" surgery for cancer a few days ago. He's doing great but it it comes back the vet says he is a good candidate for amputation. Now I got a whole host of questions about that. He is 15 or thereabouts. As long as he is acting happy eating sleeping and playing he has a good life. If he gets so bad that I think he is suffering, you know what I will do. It's like this. He can't talk; I can and I think what would be right for me in this situation. I think people need to take their responsibilites to their dogs seriously. They are our alter egos and our true friends.
FICTION FLASH
The Heat of Spring
by
RD Larson
As the hot wind swept through the park, a man watched. It was late afternoon, dry for once after nights of rain, yet warm enough to be summer.
She would be here soon. Finally he heard the sound of a horse and soon the carriage pulled up.
Adrianna stepped out with the help of the driver. She looked fragile and ethereal. She had been his goddess for all these months.
She should have known that he had spies everywhere. She should not have coupled with that writer from England.
"Good afternoon, my dear. How lovely you look," Cyril bowed and extended his hand, "Let us walk."
"Please wait for Miss Alford," he called to the driver who nodded his head, already dozing in the fading sunlight.
"Cyril, how kind to think of a picnic under the trees. Thank you for sending your carriage."
"Darling, you can't know how I love to surprise you," Cyril lead her into the trees. He patted her pale hand where it lay on his forearm.
Her blue eyes, so innocent, hid her lie. A surge of anger like a torch seared his stomach.
Cyril reached for her, wanting to kiss her one last time. As she raised her lips to his, he envisioned her in the arms of that young man. As his lips touched her, the flame flashed to his hands and set him afire.
In an explosion of fury, as their lips met, his hands closed around the white throat, pressing -- squeezing as the young woman realized her death was near and struggled. Cyril could not feel his own hands as they fulfilled his tormented jealousy. Crushing her neck, his hands snuffed out Adrianna's last breath.
Gently, lovingly, he lifted her into his arms and carried her through the trees to the stagnant pond near the deep forest that bordered on the park. The fetid stench floated in the heat. He threw her body into the murky green slim and watched it slowly sink into the bottom mud.
Cyril sighed. He turned away walking until he reached his horse; he swung up on to the sorrel mare.
"My lost love."
POLITICAL SLASH
I get so torqued out about all the slamming of the candidates. And you know who is at fault? The stupid news medias, CNN, FOX, ABC, CBS, MS NBC and multiple others. What do they think? That these candidates for PRESIDENT are somehow really rock stars like Brittany or publicity hogs like Paris? Their personal lives do matter but the lengths to which these media moguls scramble for do not exist. Good Grief! Give IT a rest. So what does it matter if this wife or that guy said something off? Or the Candidate stumbles? Let me see you talk for 17 months straight and not repeat yourself! Okay, end of soap box tirade!
DOGGIE SPLASH
Zippy had his third "arm" surgery for cancer a few days ago. He's doing great but it it comes back the vet says he is a good candidate for amputation. Now I got a whole host of questions about that. He is 15 or thereabouts. As long as he is acting happy eating sleeping and playing he has a good life. If he gets so bad that I think he is suffering, you know what I will do. It's like this. He can't talk; I can and I think what would be right for me in this situation. I think people need to take their responsibilites to their dogs seriously. They are our alter egos and our true friends.
FICTION FLASH
The Heat of Spring
by
RD Larson
As the hot wind swept through the park, a man watched. It was late afternoon, dry for once after nights of rain, yet warm enough to be summer.
She would be here soon. Finally he heard the sound of a horse and soon the carriage pulled up.
Adrianna stepped out with the help of the driver. She looked fragile and ethereal. She had been his goddess for all these months.
She should have known that he had spies everywhere. She should not have coupled with that writer from England.
"Good afternoon, my dear. How lovely you look," Cyril bowed and extended his hand, "Let us walk."
"Please wait for Miss Alford," he called to the driver who nodded his head, already dozing in the fading sunlight.
"Cyril, how kind to think of a picnic under the trees. Thank you for sending your carriage."
"Darling, you can't know how I love to surprise you," Cyril lead her into the trees. He patted her pale hand where it lay on his forearm.
Her blue eyes, so innocent, hid her lie. A surge of anger like a torch seared his stomach.
Cyril reached for her, wanting to kiss her one last time. As she raised her lips to his, he envisioned her in the arms of that young man. As his lips touched her, the flame flashed to his hands and set him afire.
In an explosion of fury, as their lips met, his hands closed around the white throat, pressing -- squeezing as the young woman realized her death was near and struggled. Cyril could not feel his own hands as they fulfilled his tormented jealousy. Crushing her neck, his hands snuffed out Adrianna's last breath.
Gently, lovingly, he lifted her into his arms and carried her through the trees to the stagnant pond near the deep forest that bordered on the park. The fetid stench floated in the heat. He threw her body into the murky green slim and watched it slowly sink into the bottom mud.
Cyril sighed. He turned away walking until he reached his horse; he swung up on to the sorrel mare.
"My lost love."
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
Excited
Well Iowa caucuses will set in motion the rest of the year. Everybody in Iowa, get out there and make your choice known. It's the American Way!
Faline has a new video up at You Tube. She's folding clothes.
Zippy is good enough to be called WELL from his cancer surgery.
I am working on two short stories, one about changing life. And one about a man and wife on their boat having an argument. Also working on Cleanup Jobs and Car Jack. Still tired from my recent illnesses though.
Faline has a new video up at You Tube. She's folding clothes.
Zippy is good enough to be called WELL from his cancer surgery.
I am working on two short stories, one about changing life. And one about a man and wife on their boat having an argument. Also working on Cleanup Jobs and Car Jack. Still tired from my recent illnesses though.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
When will I get my vision back?
During the postoperative period, the air bubble in the eye will be pressing on the macula to ensure closure of the hole. While the air bubble is present in the eye, the eye is unable to focus light properly, and therefore vision is significantly disrupted. Often patients are only able to see shapes, shadows or hand movements in front of their eyes while the bubble is large. As the bubble begins to shrink, usually between the third and fourth week, vision begins to return. Final vision recovery is often not achieved for 6-12 weeks following the operation after the bubble completely resolves, the macular hole heals, and a final prescription for glasses is given. For those patients who have not had cataract surgery, the vision may begin to exhibit gradual deterioration approximately 6-12 months after the operation as a cataract develops. Once cataract surgery is performed, vision would then typically return to its maximal level.
Basically, I've had quite a bit of pain but it does seem to be getting better. Not expecting much vision as yet. My biggest bother is the right eye weeps when I try to use it and the left of course is useless. L. is being the world's best nurse, I'm telling you. Thanks for all the cards, letters, notes, pictures and books. I am so grateful for such kindness from friends and readers.
Not to worry okay? I am teaching the computer to convert sound to print and print to sound so in three months I should see very well again and will also be able to do what I did before these three eye surgeries.
I have always thought that a challenge and a struggle makes a person stronger and more resilient. I'm living proof of that. I am looking forward to finishing my fourth book, Cleanup Jobs. www.RDLarson.com books at Amazon, Fictionwise.com and mobipocket.com. See you on the same page!
During the postoperative period, the air bubble in the eye will be pressing on the macula to ensure closure of the hole. While the air bubble is present in the eye, the eye is unable to focus light properly, and therefore vision is significantly disrupted. Often patients are only able to see shapes, shadows or hand movements in front of their eyes while the bubble is large. As the bubble begins to shrink, usually between the third and fourth week, vision begins to return. Final vision recovery is often not achieved for 6-12 weeks following the operation after the bubble completely resolves, the macular hole heals, and a final prescription for glasses is given. For those patients who have not had cataract surgery, the vision may begin to exhibit gradual deterioration approximately 6-12 months after the operation as a cataract develops. Once cataract surgery is performed, vision would then typically return to its maximal level.
Basically, I've had quite a bit of pain but it does seem to be getting better. Not expecting much vision as yet. My biggest bother is the right eye weeps when I try to use it and the left of course is useless. L. is being the world's best nurse, I'm telling you. Thanks for all the cards, letters, notes, pictures and books. I am so grateful for such kindness from friends and readers.
Not to worry okay? I am teaching the computer to convert sound to print and print to sound so in three months I should see very well again and will also be able to do what I did before these three eye surgeries.
I have always thought that a challenge and a struggle makes a person stronger and more resilient. I'm living proof of that. I am looking forward to finishing my fourth book, Cleanup Jobs. www.RDLarson.com books at Amazon, Fictionwise.com and mobipocket.com. See you on the same page!
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
eyeballing the future
Hi ya'll,
This is what I have and I will have surgery in the next few weeks to correct it. Thanks for your many notes of concern. Google me to read my stories or go to www.fictionwise.com or www.mobipocket.com
See ya later, RE
. http://www.stlukeseye.com/eyeq/FluoresceinAngiogram.asp
Central Serous Chorioretinopathy
This is what I have and I will have surgery in the next few weeks to correct it. Thanks for your many notes of concern. Google me to read my stories or go to www.fictionwise.com or www.mobipocket.com
See ya later, RE
. http://www.stlukeseye.com/eyeq/FluoresceinAngiogram.asp
Central Serous Chorioretinopathy
(CSCR)
Overview
Central serous chorioretinopathy (CSCR) is a problem that affects the macula (central portion of the retina). The exact cause is not understood. CSCR occurs when a small break forms in the pigment layer of the retina. Fluid from the layer of blood vessels that lie underneath the
retina seeps up through the break, causing a small detachment to form under the retina.
This problem is somewhat similar to a water blister that forms on the skin. The process is similar to CSCR: fluid collects beneath the skin's surface, causing the layers of skin to separate.
CSCR affects men more often then women and usually occurs between the ages of 25 and 50. Stress is thought to be linked to this problem. CSCR typically resolves spontaneously, but it can recur. In some cases, it may lead to moderate but permanent loss of central vision.
-
Blurred central vision
-
Wavy, distorted vision
-
Central blind spot
Usually the doctor can diagnose CSCR with an exam of the retina using ophthalmoscopy. In most cases fluorescein angiography is used to gather additional information about the extent and severity of the problem.
Treatment
Most patients with CSCR do not require treatment. The fluid usually absorbs gradually over a period of months. Occasionally, steroid and non-steroidal anti-inflammatory eye drops are prescribed. In cases where visual recovery is delayed, laser treatment may be required to seal the leak and help the vision improve.
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