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Friday, April 11, 2014

D is for Divine Grace

D is for Divine Grace

Blogging Challenge from A to Z


The words startled her.  Looking around, curious expression on her face, she searched for the speaker.  No one was there.  Shaking her head, she thought “I have got to cut back on the coffee!”

Moments later, the words again. “You shall reap what you sow.” Jumping, in defense she grabbed the only thing near her, a flower vase.  Not a very sturdy vase at that.  However, the art-deco flowers embossed on the sides would put a sizable welt on someone’s head.  No one there.

Creeping as softly as she could, peeking around corners and behind closed doors.  She found no one there.
I guess,” she thought “at least the words aren’t telling me to do
something horrendous.”

Perched in her favorite chair, fuzzy lap blanket thrown over her knees, she began thumbing through her magazine again. 


Sitting as still as she could, she began to understand.  “Getting” the message, being able to hear the words, the gift of feeling the lesson.  She had finally reached that pinnacle.  Reached the spiritual, physical plateau where lessons from beyond were obtainable, and it seemed the knowledge simply poured forth.  Was it beyond?  Or simply beside? Or had she gone to them?


Thursday, April 3, 2014

C is for Crafts

C is for Crafts



Rising from the depths, the glowing orbs illuminated the sea as brightly as the mid-day sun.

The sea had been particularly calm that evening.  Gentle waves lapped at the side of the boat as we watched the magnificent sunset.  Bright oranges, yellows, greens and golds flared across the horizon.  It was an evening topped with good company and a flavorful bottle of wine.

Jelly Fish
We had been saving the wine for just a evening event as this.  Leaning against back in my deck chair, the warm breezes on my face, I truly felt Heaven couldn't be better.  The contented expressions on my companions faces told the same story; contentment.  We had worked hard the past few days, moving this lovely yacht to its new location for its new owner.  We had jotted down all the little “idiosyncrasies” we’d found for the new owner’s mechanic to check out.  Now we had our reward.

The sun’s last ray dipped below the horizon allowing the stars to simply pop.  Leaning back, we took turns pointing out the various constellations.  Their glittering may have been what delayed our noticing the ocean coming alive. 

Red Tide
“Waterway Transportation” is the name of our company.  We have moved everything from small sailing vessels to tankers, up and down the coast.  No, I no longer even own my own water vessel.  (have to be careful, the difference between boats and ships is considerable to my clients) If the vessel is large enough, we load our Harley’s.  If it isn’t we fly back to our base.  Each of us has a different base, it all depends on where your family lives.  That’s base.  But, I digress….
Vampire Squid

The twinkling from beneath the waves appeared to be rising faster than we anticipated and was going to surface all around us. 

Derrek was the first to notice. “Squid.” He said matter-of-factly.  We each took turns guessing at which bioluminescent creature would be rising to the surface to feed.  “Jelly fish” , “Red Tide”, “Atolla”, each of us shouted out something different.  Mind you, we certainly aren’t scientists but after a few years on the water you get so you have seen quite a bit and not too much startles us. 

After a short lull,  Lenny then hollered out, “The elusive pyrosome!”  We all looked at him.  “Just happy I remembered it’s name…”

“What?!”  We each blurted in unison.  Our boat began to rock. The waves became a stronger and higher and the gentle lapping was no longer.  They burst from the water, as a child would blow bubbles through a wand.  Dozens and dozens of them.  We each stood motionless, caught in the moment.  Filled with awe, our mouths dropped open as we watched their ascent.   

It began as a whisper, “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.” With each utterance it became louder and louder, until Derrek was screaming.  Screaming as he was drawn upward into the now airborne craft.


Wednesday, April 2, 2014

B is for Boo

B is for Boo

Opening my eyes with a jolt to the sound of the early morning alarm was actually a relief.  For weeks now I have been awakened, throughout my nighttime rest, by unknown noises. 

I anticipated some creaking and groaning from my newly acquired home.  I had expected the normal foundation settling could make some of the first nights restless.  Even the sounds of the roof flexing with the sun can make noises.  But these mid-night awakenings were far beyond that.

The second morning, after awakening six times during the night to loud bangs, I walked the perimeter and found a couple of places needing the attention of a handyman.  The third morning, I called a roofer.  The fourth morning I called an exterminator.  It’s now been six weeks.

Six weeks with little to no sleep.  I look like I could pack the bags under my eyes for a month long trip! Dark circles sagging skin all point to sleepless nights.  I haven’t dreamt in a very long time. 

Meeting for coffee, strong coffee, my friends comment on how much work I must be doing in my new home.  After my quizzical look, they all turned slightly away saying how tired I look. 

Jan was the first to say it. “It’s really there isn’t it.” Her words were a statement not a question.  Pursing her lips she stared accusingly at me.  “I told you the history of that house!  I told you what the previous owners said.”

I just don’t believe all that nonsense.  Ghosts, spectral beings, aliens…..come on.  Get real.  They just don’t exist anywhere but in the fantasies of the gullible.  The weak minded are generally being lead around by some “guru” for whatever money or other asset can get pumped out of them.

That being said, I allowed my friend Jan to make the call.  Jan had lived on that side of the city for a very long time.  She knew the best pizza joint, the easiest in and out coffee bistro, which salon had the best stylist.  Overall, she had this side of town down.  She knew everyone, and pretty much everyone knew her.  She could get the lowdown on any place, any thing, or on any body!  She made the call.

Our “spectral” retriever was to swing by my house the upcoming weekend.  In the meantime, I walked the perimeter of the house checking for “critter access”.  I went over the bills from the exterminator, no bugs/bees/rats or raccoons.  No trees leaning on the rooftop. 

Tired of looking at the house, I decided to calm my unreasonable nervousness with a nice cup of tea. Sitting on the front porch, sipping my herbal tea, I felt the hand touch me.  Whispers in my ear….”BOO..I know what you’ve done and it won’t stop me”.


Tuesday, April 1, 2014

A is for Airborne


Bloggingfrom A to Z

When I checked today I am number 1455 out of 2215 writers - feel free to check out as many as you can! My sister, Vicki Paulus, is number 1454. 

We ran down the hill. No, that’s wrong.  We galloped down the hill, slipping and tumbling as though the sands of the hillside were mud.  End over end, down the steep hill.  Mouths wide open gulping in as much of the gritty sand as air.   

Blue skies overhead erupt as the fly-boys from Kincheloe  scream overhead breaking the sound barrier with a deafening boom.  The sound reverberating off the hill sides.  Hurriedly we clap our hands to the sides of our heads, covering our ears.  

Somewhere nearby another flyer is heard, a large bird of prey screams at us.  We have, once again, disrupted it’s hunt.  Several rabbits take advantage of our distraction and scurry to cover. 

It’s late spring, nearly summer.  School will be out and we will have three glorious months.  Soon enough the hot sun will beat the sides of the sand-pit, turning the moist, pliable, soft sands into baked hard crust.  But for now, the tumbling is fantastic.  The sands have just enough moisture to cling, but not enough to make sludge. 

From the top, running as hard as we can.  Arms pumping, lips pursed in concentration, dodging the blackberry bushes on our freshly made path, feet pushing off the ground….out, out, into the air. Airborne, just like the fly-boys.  For just a moment…that one elongated, may last forever moment, we are airborne.  We can fly.

Our flying contest is marked, not by where your behind fell, or where you rolled until you could finally stop, but where your feet dug into the sands.  Your landing gear is what counts here, not the fuselage, not the wings. 

Brushing the sand from our hair, off our clothes and somewhat off our faces.  We give one another a knowing glance.  It will take days to get the sand out of our ears and nose and any other crevice it will have worked its way into. We laugh and trudge back up the hill to do it all over again. 


Thursday, March 20, 2014



The BloggingLounge   
Hosted by: Ariana Browning

Prompt #5

Racing against time, she pressed down upon the gas pedal more firmly.  Coaxing the old pick-up truck around the curves and bends in the road at what her father would call, break neck speed.  Gusts of wind had knocked down branches and trees across the road.  So far the downed trees had been small enough to simply drive over, jerking her back and forth, straining against the seat belt. 

Peering into the rear view mirror, she could see the lights gaining on her.  She could feel them trying to overcome her independence.  They were trying to probe her mind and control her without even being in proximity.  “Fools!” she spat out the word as she rounded a curve on two wheels.

Knowing full well the turmoil she would cause, she escaped her captors.  Unwillingly, she had left others behind.  Others she fully planned to go back for, once she had figured out how. 

Mind control.  There was no need for them to chain anyone.  There was no need for them to discipline anyone, they simply controlled your thoughts.  Oh, they said it wasn’t control.  They said they could only foster a thought process.  Instill a certain pattern and our brains willingly followed.  They said, from the time we are very young, we, the lazy humans would much rather be told what to think and how to behave rather than make those tough decisions on our own.  

It had taken years to figure it out.  But, that knowledge was the key to her escape.  Learning to block their suggestions!  Learning to think for herself!  Learning to made decisions on her own! Initially, these had been very nearly intoxicating.  Initially, she was nearly found out on many occasion.  Initially, she had been giddy with the new-found self awareness.

Escape had been relatively easy once she mastered the “turn about”.  Instilling a suggestion into her guard’s mind had been as simple as the old woman was.  She was just an old woman doing a job to get by in life.  No point in hurting anyone, that would only make her as bad a person as her captors.  No reason to start out her new life with a “bad omen”. 

The lights were getting closer, but so was the town she was heading for.  Expletives burst from her.  She shouted at the heavens.  Then calmed, quieted, and began the tiresome act of transmitting to her pursuers.  Slowing, merging into traffic, she disappeared.


Sunday, March 2, 2014

To My Younger Self


To My Younger Self

Blogging Lounge #4

Sitting near my Grandmother, she reaches out a gnarled claw like hand to stroke my hair.  Grizzled as she appears on the outside, she is all soft and love on the inside, at least I thought so.  She loved me like no other.  I had not seen her extend even a thought of kindness to anyone else, ever. 

My Grandmother lay on her deathbed.  She wheezed and groaned as she fought the inevitable.  Hard as nails, she was determined to see my wedding day.  She was determined to have the right to request her “wish” be granted.  Only my Grandmother knew what that wish was, but I had a good guess.  Often I could catch snatches of words, as I sat next to her.

After days of lifting her nearly hairless head off her pillows to spoon feed her broth, I finally got the gist of what her request was going to be.  I was struck nearly dumbfounded when I realized what she planned.  I dropped the warm cloth I had been bathing her face with.  Staggering backward, I knocked over the stool I had perched upon for the past week.  My back aching from hunkering over her was thrown into an upright position.  My very nerves jangled at the thought of touching this person I had so long thought of tenderly. 

The years of her telling me that if she had it all to do again, she wouldn’t change a thing.  The hours of plotting and planning she had divulged what she would do if she were young in today’s world.  How often she had said “if I were to tell my younger self anything, it would be to implement this plan sooner”.  I had adored watching the movements of such a swift mind.  Her ability to envision a plan and implement it down to every detail was astonishing and wondrous to watch. Her plans were always to her advantage, the other individual always left hurting.  She had no qualms about using the other grandchildren.  

Always whispering to me how much she loved me, how she was teaching them lessons I didn’t need to learn, and how I was her favored one.

My wedding day was also my 21st birthday.  Two magical days rolled into one!  I was so excited, and had been for months.  Giddiness was normally squelched by my Grandmother.  She did not delight in other’s joy.  It was difficult to hide my excitement.  She said she could “see” it on me.  She said it hung about me like a shroud, colorful and bright.  However, she did not punish me overly much.  I assumed she knew it would be futile to try to sober me up.

How wrong I had been!  How na├»ve!  This wicked old woman had been planning something so cruel I never would have conceived it!  “To my younger self”, indeed!  She was planning to utilize my magic day!  Every lesson she taught me, she would always add that even if I forgot the actual lesson, my body would remember when the time came.  

Every extra helping of food, every ministering when I was ill, every look she bestowed upon me was the path she had lain out to execute her plan. 


 That wicked old witch!  That devious horrible woman! The vileness radiated from her body.  I stepped back, with my hand to my mouth and my mind reeling.  Slowly, vowing she would NEVER again hurt anyone.  Vowing she would NOT be trading bodies with me on my wedding night, I moved her nearly hairless head from her pillow and forced it onto her face.


Something Worth Writing

Something Worth Writing

Rise of the Pheonix : Week #12
Quote and a Word

I had begun the class thinking I would stir the imaginations of those who dared think.  I wanted to stir the imagination.  Explore the “unexplorable” with those whose minds were formulating beliefs.  Bend their thought process to view their lives as a grand experience, rather than the drudgery obligatory grind I saw on the faces I knew. 

To behold the world and see what had transpired, not as though a great burden had been thrust upon them, but that they hold the knowledge and can weld it as a sword to make their life experience in a better world. I never anticipated my words, said with earnest enthusiasm, would lead me to this jail cell.  Anticipating a severe outcome does little to bolster forgiveness for those who put me here.

Awakening from the vivid dream, the colors still carry into my conscious mind.  Knowing that dreams are our minds way of rehashing the day, sorting the information, and filing it into pockets of brain matter, I am astonished by the transient images which waft across my vision. The orange bird taking yellow seed from my hand while it’s red mother looks on approvingly. I find it inspiring. 

Here we are in this brightly hued world, wondering at our “beginnings”, fighting over who’s ideas are the most accurate, and who is withholding information. Mostly, I think there are many withholding information. 

There are tales written in stone, depicted on the walls of caves, and inscribed upon the hides of animals no longer roaming the Earth.  We, the human species, were “made”.  Does that make us Golems?  Mindless drones to do the bidding of our overlords? If so, just who are the overlords?  Are the overlords benevolent or filled with
Inscriptions dating back to the Mesopotamian era tell of God creating mankind.  God gave mankind the ability to speak. Now we need think we need to figure out who's God and then which God? 

Acts 2:1-4 ''Now while the day of the [festival of] Pentecost was in progress they were all together at the same place,  and suddenly there occurred from heaven a noise just like that of a rushing stiff breeze, and it filled the whole house in which they were sitting.  And tongues as if of fire became visible to them and were distributed about, and one sat upon each one of them,  and they all became filled with holy spirit and started to speak with different tongues, just as the spirit was granting them to make utterance.''   

Does this indicate that prior to “interference” we, mankind, had as much ability to speak as most animals?  Therefore we were, as many claim, animals prior to intervention? Are we merely "tweeked" animals some claim we are?  Without the ability to actually "see".

Benjamin Franklin told us “ Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing” Silly me, I thought I was following those words to the fullest extent.  I held those words in my heart and followed as best I could see how.

Perhaps someday.  Perhaps someday someone will see my story and find it worthwhile to explore the unexplorable.  To see the world as an exhilaratingly wonder-filled place.  For, there are miracles, and whomever brings them really doesn’t matter to the one experiencing them!  We DO exist! I will escape this prison they have created.