As a Multiple Sclerosis patient, it has become necessary for me to reinvent myself. I have ... and continue to ... refuse to lie down and die, or in this case, follow the normally prescribed drugs and treatments that do nothing to defeat my disease. I am not only surviving by pursuing alternatives, I am thriving. I do the things specialists told me I would never be able to do. I walk and hope to one day even run regularly. I retain my cognitive and creative abilities for the pleasure of my readers. Although you may never see me on my daily walk, you are welcome to read my novel(s) and in doing so, come to ask yourself, "How can the 'out of the box' protocol she has followed, help my loved one with an autoimmune disease like Multiple Sclerosis?"


Title: Dark Days of Promise (excerpt is unedited and may undergo changes prior to publication)
Genre: Women's Fiction
Status: WIP

Not everyday ends as expected. Today my perceptions of my same-old semi-boring life changed, putting wheels into motion that had glided to a halt years earlier.


“My goodness, Kellie,” Janine exclaimed. “You didn’t tell me it was the mirror from above the mantel the boys broke. I could have brought the car down to your place. You didn’t need to carry the mirror up the hill just to add to my Halloween decorations.”

I smiled at my best friend. Thirty-five years separated my thirty odd years from her seventy plus but not our hearts. Janine had shown no sign of slowing down until the past summer despite her almost white hair and wizened face. Her stroke left its mark. Her smile often twitched and always seemed a bit crooked but still reached her gray-blue eyes. In her hand, she carried a cane but didn’t use it in the exact manner the doctor had instructed.

I strained to pull the mirror up the last step, my muscles not used to the effort. I considered resuming my impromptu exercise program to go with my third try at Marge’s outrageous diet. I didn’t have that much to lose, but I wanted my flat tummy back. The sight of my belly and hips reflected in the framed mirror with its spider web cracks made me momentarily cringe.

“I didn’t carry it, I used Krista’s wagon to haul it. I’m stubborn but not crazy enough to put my back out.” I panted, thankful that Janine’s drive wasn’t any steeper, that the pines kept the long drive well shaded, and that her porch boasted three steps instead of four like my own.

“What did the boys hit it with?”

“Would you believe me if I told you Phillip threw his football down the hall from his bedroom? Carter claims that he was going out for a long pass.”

Update:
This entery did not win the contest. Congrats to you sisters in ANWA who did. It looks like the agent was looking for something else.
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