Monthly Archives: March 2019

The Lily Warrior

I’m writing this kind of stream of thought.

I feel I need to honor Ann now as I probably won’t be making much sense as I grieve in the near future.

Right now she is still with me and I can write this in honor of the fantastic, loving, fierce woman she still is.

Daughter, wife, nurse, mom.

We love you so much!

I’m sitting here next to mom now as I write this. Just watched a hawk startle some pigeons out over the Hartford rooftops I can see from her window.

Its a fine first day of spring, the sky is blue above the smoggy skyline of the city and the buds are beginning to pop on the trees.

Mom is resting peacefully now, I can hear her soft yet strong breathing over the usual hospital sounds just outside the door of her private room; nurses voices, beeping alarms, rolling carts and the sticky tread of sneakered feet.

Mom won a hard fought battle against breast cancer back in ‘82 when I thought the world would end any day when I wasn’t rolling a d20 to help keep Bingham the Brave alive to keep Rangering away, back when imagination and books were the shelter I sought from a fatherless reality.

My mother lost a breast to the beast that is cancer and I will never forget how she asked me to draw her a platinum dragon, an image she would use to destroy the savage cancer while the chemo drugs stripped away her hair, but never her courage or dignity.

Thirty seven years.

That was the gift that my mother was given, the reward she acquired for fighting the fight of her life back in 1982.

Let it be known that our family has been blessed with her presence, wisdom and knowledge for every second of all those years.

Her gardens are full of daffodils, lilies, hibiscus and a multitude of flowers I still haven’t managed to memorize, constantly asking questions and pointing, feeling like a child.

She is my Lily Warrior.

Stalwart and courageous yet sensitive and gentle.

The RN that she was in reality giving way to her katana wielding spirit in my minds’ eye.

Her adventurous, inquisitive nature brought her to many lands and wonders; from the Galapagos Islands to the cities of France, from Buckingham Palace and Stonehenge to the natural beauty of the Pacific northwest, Yellowstone Park and the Everglades.

She was always willing to share these adventures through pictures, her journal entries or just simply by word of mouth, either out on her porch on a warm summer night or holding court at the holiday dinner table.

Right now she is resting, having fought another fight of her life.

Resting up for another journey, another adventure and I wish I could know where it is that she’s going.

I wish she could tell us all about it.

Maybe she’ll see my dad where she’s going.

Her Bingham the Brave.

And a platinum dragon to ride over the seas.

Maybe some day I can go there too.

And she can tell me herself.

I love you mom.

Erik Hansen


5:58 PM EST


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Filed under American, Cancer, Contemporary, Creative Writing, Edges, Non-fiction, outdoors, Philosophy, Poetry, Reality, Writing

“Rogue” Teaser

Here’s a teaser from a short story I’m currently working on titled, “Rogue”

“The onshore breeze slipped around the water logged boles and through the exposed roots of the mangroves bringing with it the scents from the mudflats; rotting seaweed, brackish water and dead fish. Sweat caused his shirt to stick to his back just under his shoulder blades as he readjusted his rifle sling and peered into the dark latticework of the jungle ahead.

Somewhere within the primordial depths of these swamps and glades lurked the four hundred pound, silent killer of men that Jonathan had come to track down. He knew the beast would test all of his skills, all of his bushcraft and knowledge of jungle lore besides presenting him with the personal, physical trial these things always distilled down to every time he undertook them. Any mistakes meant death and he counted on his prey being the first to commit one in the days and maybe weeks to follow.

A gang of rhesus macaque hooted and scolded him from the safety of the tree tops, their antics serving to refocus his attention to the present task at hand.

He noted the direction in which the pug marks lead and, moving off to the side a few yards so as not to spoil the tracks, Jonathan slipped into the jungle after them.”

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Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, fantasy, Fiction, Literature, outdoors, Publishing, science fiction, Self Publishing, Short Fiction, Short Story