Fool’s Gold

She didn’t want to remember the time 100 people signed a petition against me for being a witch when I was only in the fourth grade. Years of abuse was my normal life but people will only recall that I was a loser and a fool…

…so it is?

Yet way back before Time began there was a place. Today I was there for a nano-particle of a wave on the shores of the Universe. In a tiny place full of oddities and strange dragons and very very small gnomes sitting upon carpets of moss was a table of things for sale. As I approached the table, holding tightly to the staff of wisdom I have earned, with short and wobbly gait and a breath of eternity passed over me and I heard the laughter of the fields…

…now built over with homes.

It has been decades since the day I last had that breath upon me.

She and I would shortly start to discuss the fact that God is the only reason we are even still here as a species. How we don’t see reality even when we think we do. How we can say one thing with surety in one sentence and contradict that very same thing in another sentence and yet in between being the guardian and the philosopher I was a child and the sun was not too hot nor the breeze too strong and magic filled it enough for me to know that we are only temporary in these bags of flesh and the tiny, silver trays that once belonged to a now-scattered tea set would have, in times gone, held more riches than human eyes can see and I saw them all for that tiny slice of time.

I was going to buy the little silver tray but first I wanted to go inside the “crooked little house with the crooked little mouse” and see if a crooked little man lived there who was friends with the dragons. Slowly, painfully I pushed my way up the two steps in the crab-fashion I have adopted for these situations and opened the crooked door.

It was full of moss and terrariums and small miniatures of all a person would need for a fearie garden and on one table laid the bones of my homeland: Jasper, Quartz, Peacock Copper, Rose-rock, Trilobites, Agate and ‘Fool’s Gold.’ Papa started to laugh silently. I knew then that buying anything here would not buy me back that moment but only the memory of the moment but, Papa said it was OK to buy something to recall the moment with. I chose Iron Pyrite.

I held the gold in my hand and closed my eyes and the days flooded back. The days when no one ran the A/C in the Summer and the world outside was all there was to live in and way hot sun smelled on new blacktop and the way a grape Popsicle tasted near the loud and crowded pool at Sulphur Springs. The day I bent over and saw the glint of sun nestled in the ever-shifting red-lands and how I pried it loose from the bosom of the Land and held a piece of sunlight in my hand and knew I was going to be rich and…

…I ran, like the ‘wind the sweeps down the plains’, with a handful of GOLD!

Papa was in the garage and the hum of his rock-tumbler was going and I tugged at his red over-alls and screamed happily!

“GOLD! Papa GOLD! GOLD!”

I opened my hand. He took the Gold nugget in his hand and threw back his head and laughed and laughed. All white white teeth and black black hair smiling and laughing. When he stopped he said,

“Let me show you something. These are all rocks from this region…”

He began to teach me all about the rocks from where we lived. I started to collect rocks. I learned that what I had found was not real gold but fools gold and I went back to the place where I got it to dig for more of it and I found Feldspar and peeled it apart and saw the small crystals that were like what sheet glass could have been in Thumbelina’s Castle. All of this happened in less than a nanosecond. A whole day passed while Papa and I laughed in the crooked house with the crooked door at the Gold of Fools…because he taught me something more that day: Even if it had been real gold it still would have been nothing in the vast spans of time that are compressed in eternity.

Hacking The Mainframe

About 25,00 years…oops sorry I mean 25 years…no it was just a coupla days ago…

…ANYWAY!

I was doing a research paper on one of my fave subjects, The Mughal Empire, and went searching through the libraries data base to find the information.

To give you an idea of how old I am, the data base for the mainframe of the college I attended, was only a year or so old. They still had the card catalogue available for those who had no idea how to use the computers. Now I am STILL not tech savvy in the SLIGHTEST but I was curious. I had never used a computer before. Of course, back then, everything was still ‘DOS’ and you couldn’t ‘Google’ things it was basically just a data-base. I wanted to see if I could find all the books I needed without a card catalogue.

OK.

I am blond. This means, in American Terms, something like a ‘Pathan.’ In some ways very smart and in other ways…maybe it’s true blonds have more fun? Eh heck I don’t believe that but, yeah, in some ways I am a typical blond. I can’t tell you if that is culture (Blonds DO have a culture!) or if it was nurture but hey, this isn’t a psyche paper so ?

I was DETERMINED to find EVERY BOOK using ONLY the computer! (Right now my Facebook DP is distracting me because I think I look like one of mom’s Pomeranian and that is a BLOND thing!)

I went up to the monitors that were placed in a modular manner on some long tables and went to work…

…only I could not figure out what to do!

Slowly, carefully I put my data requirements in the search engine. I refined them using key words. I was looking very hard for information that was not in the data base and, no matter what I did, my efforts were in vain! Finally, on a whim, I decided to type in a foreign word to see if it could prod the ‘DOS beast’ into vomiting up the information I needed. I typed the word in.

Suddenly the computer went INSANE! Things started cascading across the screen so fast I could barely keep up and I am a speed reader! My heart started to pound! What had I done! I looked around and saw the other people using the data base were also freaking out! Some were cursing, softly, under their breath and in less than a nanosecond the whole thing went blank screen and locked up!

Quickly I got up and we all fought over the card catalogue!

The next coupla days the school college paper, (it was still printed on paper), came out and the headline blazed, “ANONYMOUS HACKER SHUTS DOWN THE ENTIRE COLLEGE DATA BASE!”

I cringed inside.

The article went on to explain how someone had used a key word known only to the programmer, who was from India, (yes things never change), and had done a malicious act of terror on the college data base system that would take a week to repair.

It was an accident…

…or blond destiny?

Mother

(A fictional piece by Irishasia)

He was coming back home again from home and it was confusing. To the world he presented a face of calm in every part of chaos and people had always looked up to him for that. He was what some call a ‘self made’ man, a man among men who had a successful marriage of decades with the kind of women his kindred were green with jealousy for and he could even have as many lovers as he pleased without any problem. In the eyes of the world he had the world. Everywhere he went people had automatic respect or hatred for him and sometimes they even loved him more than they loved themselves.

“Buckle your seat belts please and remember to turn off your cell phones…”

He did everything without thinking now he had done it so many times. He was a world traveler and it was like breathing to him. He had just come from Hajj and was in a hurry but modern technology, as fast as it was, was still not fast enough…

…she was gone before the plane’s wheels descended and touched the tarmac.

He knew this but he didn’t know HOW he knew it he just KNEW it and he was the strong man and he had the money to do all and he had made it just in the nik of time to…

She was young and so pretty! He looked up at her and saw the most beautiful woman in the world. He was so ashamed of his thoughts. He had watched his father make his mother cry when he wanted her to be more modern and had made her sit still…her long braid and her tears fell on the marble floor and he wanted to kill his father then. He wanted to save his mother from ever crying and he vowed to become the greatest success he could be so he could give her everything. He was so ashamed that he wished he was his father so he could take his fathers place and love her the way she was meant….

He shook the thoughts off. All his life he had been in love with his mother and never told a soul. No one knew. No one. Even before he reached puberty he knew he was going to hell for that alone and that he must have been destined to be a very evil person all his life and now he had just come from the Hajj and the timing of everything…

…yet life went on around him as if nothing had changed.

“…you may now turn on your cell phones and unbuckle your seat belts and welcome to…”

He turned the sound off again in his head. There was the day he met a woman who told him that all young people feel that way about their parents and that was much more normal than he thought but, by that time, he had already broken all of God’s Laws thinking he was going to hell anyway and might as well…

He had thrown rocks at the devil and run between the mountains and he had done everything he knew to do and he had taken all the people with him who could go and…and…again his mind went back to the last time he saw her. She was old and had lost all her teeth and the joy that lit up her face when she saw her oldest son transformed her into a young girl again not a woman almost 80 years old. Inside of him was an avalanche of tears that wanted to be released and flood the world because, for most of her life, the son she loved the most was the farthest away but she still loved him the most. That avalanche just needed one trigger…just one…but his face was stone as the baggage handlers threw his bags, filled with gifts for his family, onto the conveyor belt for him to pick up and he wondered how he had managed to walk into the airport without noting he did so.

“Sir? Sir are you alright?” It was a fellow traveler, a beautiful young woman who looked at him with hungry eyes and once upon a time a few days 1000 years ago he would have…No…just no. All he could see was his mothers face, young and beautiful, super-imposed on the face of the woman he knew he could have without any effort if he wanted her and…no! He was once more dropped into the abyss of whirling emotions and how he even answered her without raging and screaming like a mad man was beyond him. “Yes I am fine!” He snapped the words out and she looked scared and walked away swiftly while he had to remember to get all his bags as they went around and around and around and around like his mind…

“Uncle! Hey! Salaam’ alaikum.”

He turned around and there was his nephew. A serious kid. A good kid. In silence they picked up the luggage and they got a porter to help them take it to the waiting car and they gave him a few rupees. The driver made it in time to the Family Home where he had lived the first twenty of the formative years that made him into the kind of man he was now. The rest of his life he had only been able to come home to visit from time to time and that was really because of HER only. The house was full and they were only waiting on him. He had made it in time but not IN TIME. As tired as he was he had to keep going as he helped to carry the body of his beloved mother to the grave. He was to say the Salat al Janaza. He said it all somehow from just the way he had to memorize it on the plane and finished, “Assalamu alaikum wa rahmatullah” He felt like a hypocrite…

…he left with nothing but a hand-full of dirt and it suddenly came to him that most of his life amounted to what he carried in his hand. Still he could not cry. He knew they would call him heartless but they could not see that if he cried he would never stop until it killed him. He could not cry. She was gone from the world he lived in. The woman he loved most in the world. From that moment on he could not even speak of it at all. He would, silently, carry her in his heart the way she had once carried him, in hers, all the years he lived over 12,600 kilometers away from her.

His mother was dead.

He signed into his Facebook account. Suddenly he hated it. He opened his dusty Quran whose suras he had never bothered to learn to recite and began,


“Bismillaah ar-Rahman ar-Raheem
Al hamdu lillaahi rabbil ‘alameen
Ar-Rahman ar-Raheem Maaliki yaumid Deen
Iyyaaka na’abudu wa iyyaaka nasta’een
Ihdinas siraatal mustaqeem
Siraatal ladheena an ‘amta’ alaihim
Ghairil maghduubi’ alaihim waladaaleen
Aameen”

Nine of Ten

(These events are real but the characters and certain details have been altered to protect the family to which these events occurred.)

He watched his older siblings go to work every day. They were in their early or late teens and the oldest four, of those ten children, were already in the military or working in factories. It was the end of ‘The Great Depression.’ He had seen his father once or twice but his mother said his father was in prison now.

His father was a drunk, with other women besides his mother, but he did not know that until well into manhood. All he knew now was he was hungry.

“Mama? I will go out and hunt for eggs! If I get eggs you cook them?”

She said nothing but smiled at him and he ran out to the dirt yard out in what was then rural West Texas and found that the hens had run away. She watched him out the window. He was too young to understand that they were old hens and the chicks were too young to lay and that they had no food in the house and might not have until his brothers and sisters came home from their farm work later in the season. He was too young to understand that there was no food for the animals now and they had gone to make the soup they had eaten this week. She watched, with regret, as he grabbed his youngest brothers hand, and they ran to the now empty nests to look for food.

“CARL! BERTIE!!!!!” She yelled out the open door. “Get back to the house we are going into town!”

He still had Bertie by the hand and dragged him back. Bertie was only two years old but he knew he was FOUR years old! He watched his mother with her still-black, long straight hair, that was pulled into a bun on her neck, tie a scarf around her head and get out her red shawl she knitted herself. He looked at her face and he knew there was something wrong.

“Mama?”

“Hush Carl!”

He hushed. He always did what mama said because she would smack them with a rubber spatula if they misbehaved but she would hold him and rock him and his baby brother and sing French songs to them and tell them stories about a huge rich farm his siblings worked on in a different part of Texas. She would sing,

“Gue gue solangue

Balliez chimin la

Gue gue solangue

Balliez chimin la…”

He and his brother Bertie, whose nik name was ‘Bitty’ on account of that was what it sounded like when Carl said his name, would fall asleep. He loved her so much. She was the most beautiful woman on earth. Right now she had on her ‘Sunday-go-to-meeting’ clothes. That meant maybe the ice cream parlor! He started to dance around!

“Mama mama I LOVE YOU MAMA!”

“Bring your little ‘Bitty’ with you…you and Bitty hurry along now. Keep up with me!” She looked at the few pennies in her purse that was all there was left of anything they had in the whole world and made her heart hard for the sake of her boys. She started walking towards town on a dusty dirt road in the country that Carl would see again one day, paved, and part of the biggest city in Texas, but now he kept a tight hold of Bitty’s hand as they ran after their mother down the road.

They had started out in the morning. It was afternoon when they reached town. People here already had cars, radios and a very very few even had TELEVISIONS! Carl stared around with his skinny, knobby-kneed country legged pants, covered with road dust, and became very quiet as he followed his mother up a pretty, nicely paved street. She grabbed both boys hands and, looking resolute, stood tall and straight with her head high, and took both boys to the front door. She knocked and a woman, smoking a cigarette, answered. Carl had seen this woman before. This woman was married to his uncle…the one the townspeople called ‘nigger-lips.’

The woman let them in the house and both woman went into another room and left Carl and Bitty, sitting stiff and uncomfortable and hungry, on a fancy, brocade sofa. The woman of this house worked for a living and had worked most of her life. She was one of the original ‘Rosy the Riveters.’ She had no children.

She was well off by the standards of that day.

Both women came back into the living room and Carl’s mother told him the bare truth,

“Son, I can’t take care of you anymore. I had to divource your father. He is still in prison and I have no idea when he’ll get out. There is no food in the house and I know you are hungry. I am leaving you here with your new mother…”

She took Bitty by the hand and left quickly so he would not see her cry. He tried to follow her but the woman grabbed him and hugged him while he beat on her and tried to get away crying…

“Maaaaaaa maaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!!!! MAAAAAAAA!!!!! MAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!! BITTYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!”

When they were out the door the woman let him go and he quit kicking her and ran to the window and watched his old life walk away from him. The woman who would now be his mother said,

“Son? I have breakfast cooking. I have to go to work and the lady next door will take care of you while I am at work. You can eat all you want I know you have not eaten in a long time.”

Carl looked at the woman. She looked sad too like he felt. She looked like a nice lady. He was soory he kicked her.

“Is mama coming back?”

“No son she is not coming back she promised me you belong to me now. Your father will be home before I will be home. Be respectful.”

“He is Uncle Nigger-lips.”

He screamed and kicked her again when she smacked his face.

“He is your uncle and you will NOT call him ‘nigger-lips!”

Then she took him into the dining room and fed him the tallest stack of pancakes he ever saw covered with honey! With his belly full and all the stress of the day he fell into a deep sleep as his new mother left for work at the telephone company. He had no idea when the neighbour woman picked him up and tucked him away on a big soft fancy bed, with fancy carved furniture, in his own room.

He would later come to love the woman who raised him and even defended her when the Jehovah Witnesses came to tell her she was not good enough to raise him because she was a ‘working woman.’ He came into the parlor with a butcher knife in each small, childish hand and GLARED at them until they quickly excused themselves.

He had come ‘home.’

Zak Jah Dyed My Boyfriend Light Blue For Glazed Doughnuts…Ughhhh!

Puck, and his friend Zak Jah, decided to have some fun while my boof was sleeping at a rural campsite in Northern Okieville. They bet each other a box of Crispy Cremes that he would not wake up even if a tornado came by. Puck was pretty sure he would win.

He said Fred would wake up.

Under the beguilement of doughnuts he and Jah definitely  made a weird plan! Puck did not desire to do the dirty work he just wanted to watch so ZJ made a bucket of blue dye while Fred was passed out on the bare ground, from an overdose of homemade German beer, call Puck called ‘Blitzkrieg.’

OK…Zak was really a devilish guy.

Do to the circumstances everyone was a little ‘blitzkrieg-ed’ from that beer. I think Puck used too many hops. We were all pretty dozy. l broke up laughing on Zak Jah’s deadpan face as he poured that bucket of blue dye all over Fred. Fred mumbled, “Nooo nooo mom I am not waking up!” Then he rolled over in the hot Summer night with himself and his clothes covered with wet blue dye.

Puck and Zak argued all night long as to who won the bet. Fred talked so he was awake but he never opened his eyes so he was asleep and finally, before both imps passed out themselves, they agreed that they should split that box of Crispy Cremes.

I passed out next to Fred and the next thing I knew I was looking up at him as his head shielded the sun out of my eyes. He was going to kiss me with zombie-blue lips!

Ughhhhhh!!!!!!!!

(A flash fiction)

The End Of Main Street

“Come…sit next to me.” I patted the cement curb next to me on the last mile out of town. The freeway went on past what seemed like forever on the vast old prairie. He sat down. No one seemed to notice us in the cold sunset. Cars bulleted past until the stars began to open their eyes. Then the world became quiet. He was like unplayed music. I followed his dark eyes as they looked over the long road outlined in ghostly white. We sat there on the end of Main Street where the town ended saying nothing. There was something comfortable about the silence. It was as if we knew each others thoughts without trying.

I had never really met him before…or maybe I had met him many times in many places and just never remembered. Either way the space of time was fine with me. A few minutes in eternal present was enough. He looked at me and smiled without reservation.

The joy was enough for a lifetime.

He got up and started to walk away towards his destiny. I wanted to follow but his destiny was not mine. I watched him disappear into the night.

Somewhere in the distance a flute played…or perhaps it was a lark? I, too, got up off the curb and picked up a stick that had fallen from a tree by the high way. I used it to twist the ‘bob wires’ on the fence, that ran the length the eye could see along the road, and then I bent my body, carefully, and slid between the wires and started off across the farm fields. I, too, disappeared into the night.

Under The Closed Door…

…a slice of light shines from the long white hall with it’s shiny, black eyeball watchers embedded in the bottom of the upper floor. Under the door and through the light I escape the glassy black eyes and their impersonal stare. I rise to the sky-light in Winter’s still moonless night cold humid cloud fog feels more dense than the glass whose atomic structure yields to my unsubstantial existence.

You have called out to me.

This form feels no cold.

I am weightless darkness moving across the earth upon the winds. The updraft of a stray trade wind throws me aloft into the jet stream. 300 to 400 miles per hour I speed as the jet snakes past oceans and continents. I will reach you before you wake up, look in the mirror, and douse dark curls with water and look at your black eyes in the small mirror above the sink. I soar East and the sun has not yet shed a ray into the nascent skies.

I feel you. You are wearing that semi-circular torque around you…drawing me into your atomic structure…

…into your dream.

“I have come.”

You lay on a green hillside sprinkled with tiny white star-flowers. Your lashes brush your high cheek bones soaking in the sun before it arrives and the call to prayer breaks the hush of dawn. Your face smiles with the peace of the moment.

I look at her through barely opened eyes. This has always been a talent of mine: to call these creatures of the wind. She is small and fair like the flowers. Snow white curls blowing in the mountain wind framing a child’s face. She is one whose age means nothing. I say nothing. She stands there and moves, carefully, until she casts a shadow on my face and I can see her more clearly.

Green eyes. Slightly pointed ears. She does not look centuries old.

“Come…”

She moves over the earth without touching it and sits beside me. She lays her hand upon my chest and understands I am also not human…not in this place. Her hand is small and her touch is like feathers. Without words she lays down next to me and curls up very close. I hold her easily with one arm. The breeze blows her soft blue dress over the hairs on my arms tickling them and making my skin laugh. I can feel that she feels, too, the ground move beneath us. 

What a lovely creature it is who called me, who holds me so tightly to himself. Still he seems not to have seen me but I know him too well. This world is only overlaid upon the one we live in. I slide my hand under his leather jacket and feel the hairs under the cotton shirt making it stand away from his body. I feel his skin laugh under the material. Birds fly overhead speaking their chirrrrrr chirrrrrr language and somewhere drums beat.

Maybe it is our hearts that sound like thunder in counter-point?

The wind makes trees sing with the birds and the drums of our hearts make a music beyond the sound of humanity. My hand climbs to his face. It needs no mind to make it move. He still says nothing. Over the short beard my fingers stray to his lips. I feel a thread spin through my ether as he takes my fingertip between his lips and starts what I can imagine…

…I slowly pull away and cup his ear in one palm, curving it so that the wind sings louder.

“It sings for you beautiful one.”

His eyes open. Within them I see all the light and good things to my darkness. He is Day to my Night…Joy to my Sorrow…mirror of my soul.

“So it always is that darkness comes clothed with light…”

“So it always is that light creates the shadows of Time…”

Inside I become outside and outside she becomes inside. Sweet smells come from grass the colour of her eyes crushed for the sake of Love. 

Now both his arms encircle me as the sky does the planet and he pulls me on top on his long slender body until my arms frame his face like a pale halo and his long dark lashes sweep upwards, white teeth flashing into a smile. His eyes hold me like his arms hold me and the blue dress from the sky flows over his legs while my knees rest on either side of him, barely touching the ground. Green grass tickles my toes. The world sings a chorus of birds and hearts and the voices of the trees.

Fierce joy rises up in me. I want this one I have called to me; to serve and protect and love. One hand moves without thought to the soft white curls dancing in the breeze and cups and tangles and her sea green eyes close as she gives her mouth to me. Her hands tangle in my hair as well.

His mouth tastes like well water. I am thirsty for this kiss! Sing birds that fly! Sing for this love! Beat drums! I feel the love he cannot say with words pressed against my belly.

The first ray of sun reaches it’s greedy fingers over the pregnant earth. Azan is called.

I awake in the middle of the night.

My arms are empty.

She

Before the days of many gods and goddesses there was one Being who dreamed everything and spoke it into existence. Everyone knows this. The story is older than Time Itself. When ‘time’ happened there were men and women walking the entire Earth.  They bred and peopled the planet with children.

During these days all the creatures could be here, where I tell this story, all at the same time and everyone understood each other with a clarity one cannot find now. Lying was impossible. There was no concept of ‘naked’ nor was there any concept of ‘good’ or ‘evil’ and no one had any law other than the ones they made themselves. ‘Law’ is not a good word. They had a ‘way-of-life’ that was simple: wake up, bathe, pick food from the land, walk everywhere, breed, raise young, and people had very long lives then. They were simple people. Today we classify them as ‘close to ape-like’ as if we are somehow superior but they were nothing of the sort; they were as smart, and in some ways smarter, than we are today. They were able to create what they needed with very little thought or effort and they lived and loved and were at peace with the land.

The Great Being, who later was named ‘God’, was outside of Time and had no end nor any beginning. That One could see all that would ever be as if It were reading a vast book and, later, humanity would come to have the idea of such a ‘book’ and call such books ‘holy.’ Indeed, after a time those books were needed because of a singular event in Time.

The Great Creator was alone. It had created everything and loved the creation dearly but the creation could not understand that vast love and the Being decided to try to create something that It could talk to. It would be a stretch to call what It created a ‘child’ but, in some ways, that was a little bit like the idea. What It created was going to be the pinnacle of everything It had ever created and the crown jewel of Creation Itself for the whole of Creation was also alive and was, and is, aware and sentient. It wanted to create something like the people and angels that already lived, together, on the blue, white and green planet it had set spinning like a sapphire in the vast dark of space that had blown out with a ‘big bang’ and the Being exhaled the sounds that commanded It’s creation to ‘become’. It was close to all that It had made and could easily talk to all of it and all of it could reply but there was something missing.

The Great Creator went, personally, and caused a lovely garden to occur. It was paradise and the humans that came from it would later name it ‘Eden’. From the ground It created a ‘man.’

That man was the king of the world. That man could think on a level higher than all the other beings created and that man named them all because naming a thing was new and the first words of the first language were spoken. Those words were the same words, that you can see small traces of, in every tongue that utters sound today.

This story is an old, old story. It is so old it cannot be copy-righted. It is so old that most of the people, on what we now call earth, understand some similar version of this tale and the tales that came after it. It has become an ‘Archetype’ for the Human Race and also has been accused of being nothing more than a figment of the Human Mind but once upon a time…

…She existed.

We all call her different names. Only she knows her name now. There are no accounts of her death. She still walks the earth as the spirit of an old woman but, once upon a time she was young and had eternal life. The twist in Time had not yet been ‘cut’ by ‘Knowledge.’ For centuries She ruled this planet before men thought of ruling anything. For eons she was the Virgin Queen of Light in the days when the Earth was young and strong. She lived in a Paradise-on-Earth and she ruled it and all that was in it. She was not made of ‘dirt’ like the first creations but she was made of the finer stuff the finest creation, that existed before her, was made of: Flesh and blood. She was both a daughter and a sister at once. The Earth was under her feet.

On an endless lovely day she walked the garden. He was swimming in the lagoon after they had a water fight…she did not know about the conversations taking place without her awareness…

“Why did It create them to be over us? WHY! WE are the strongest of all! WE know things that pair of idiots has not been taught yet! LOOK at them! They are designed to reproduce and yet they do NOTHING!” This was said by an angry Angel.

“Brother…why does that bother you so? They will get to this with Time.”

“Why can’t WE make more of ourselves!” The angry Angel was yelling and thunder cracked across the Skies of the slowly spinning earth. The First People ran for the caves and the warmth of fires.

“We have eternal life. We do not need to reproduce. You know the Law. The Universal Law. They do not know the Law and they are innocent.”

“Then I will TEACH them the Law!”

“You know we are forbidden to interfere.”

“They can’t fly. They can’t make things vanish into nothing!” the angry Angel pointed at a tree and lightning struck it and the First People saw it as a bad omen.

“Stop being childish even YOU don’t know all there is to know yet!”

“I WILL know and I will teach….

HER!” The angry Angel pointed at the Queen of Earth.

She walked through the garden and admired it’s great beauty. This was home to all of the best and the most beautiful things on the planet and she had not yet seen them all. Each discovery was a new and lovely surprise. When she had first become aware she had seen His face looking at hers and smiling as they lay on the soft grass and flowers. He was, without doubt, the most beautiful thing in the garden! She smiled as she remembered how he had said she was the most beautiful thing in the garden. The rabbits and deer played at her feet and flowers grew where she walked. Millions of years later She would be portrayed in movies like this as many characters that Men thought they had invented but, in reality, she is the faintest memory of the perfect ‘Mother’ and, as such, is a part of the vast Human consciousness that strives to explain Life; but, on this day, she was simply the most stunning woman on Earth. As she walked she became aware of someone nearby,

“Come out of the trees! I thought you were still swimming!” She laughed and the trees sighed with joy! “Hurry! Catch me!” She began to run and heard movement in the bushes and was delighted! She loved this game! Later generations would call it ‘Hide and Seek’ but she just loved the game! She quickly climbed a tree! See if HE could find Her hidden in the leaves!

The Angry Angel shifted his shape angelic to humanoid. In the realm of Angels he was much larger than any human being but, He could shape-shift into a tall humanoid form with wings. He watched her running and laughing. He hated the man she belonged to and he knew that she was the key to his plans…

…but already he was beginning to fall in love with her. As light as a feather from his own wing she leapt from branch to branch. Without any effort he rose on the those wings that were as wide as he was tall and hovered as he allowed himself to appear to Her. In the distance he could see the Man, still swimming, in the lagoon. He watched as her eyes widened with joy at seeing a new creature: Himself. Often he had seen this look directed at anything new she saw and now she was looking at him with those amazing golden eyes! He hated everything about his own existence at that moment. He hated what he was going to do to Her. Once more he looked at the man who was swimming far away and decided he hated him the most.

“I have never seen you yet. What is your name?”

Her voice was liquid sunshine. Her mouth was the colour of red roses and her skin was like the smooth velvet a young mesquite branch. He wanted to teach her everything he knew. He wanted to take her away from HIM. maybe if he could make her love an Angel…? Maybe if he could take the place of the Man? Maybe if he could prove he was just as good?

Maybe?

His chagrin must have shown on his face because she was suddenly compassionate. Her slender, long fingered hand reached out to touch his face and he grabbed that hand and kissed it’s palm. She allowed this with such kindness in her eyes!

“Are you a kind of bird-man? I never saw anything like you before! What is Your name? Did He see you and name you yet?”

His heart flamed with dislike of the one that was now his competitor but he hid that emotion. “No I have no name but the name you give me My Queen.” he whispered that with every atom of his existence in the words.

“You are the most beautiful creature I have seen yet…so I will call you ‘Light’.”

She had named her first creature! Her heart was filled with joy!

His heart also thrilled with joy as he swept her up into his arms and carried her into the sky, both of them laughing. The Earth was happy and the weather was great and the First People came out of their caves and were glad after the terrible storm earlier. They gave thanks to the Great Creator and celebrated! They saw the pair flying overhead and laughing and thought they must be Angels of Mercy and chiseled rocks with pictures of the pair.

She looked into his black eyes as they flew and the force of forward motion carried her body against his.

“Wrap your legs around me and you will not fall.”

There was something strange in his eyes and she felt it down to her soul and was troubled.

“There is no need to be troubled.” He was soothing now. “I can teach you the secrets of the universe. I can teach you things beyond your wildest dreams. The first thing I can teach you is how much I love you. I want you to have my children.”

(later will be edited for content.)

And so it was.

She learned he had been appointed the ‘Watcher’ or ‘Guardian Angel’ of the planet Earth. She learned how to make love and how to reproduce herself with him. Her children learned how to wear colours on their faces and herd animals and farm and play music. Her children would be known as titans, nephilim, djinni, and they would be called ‘gods’ and rule the nations that began with the land of Ur…More angels would come and take her daughters as wives and they would be granted privileges as goddesses but first came the disaster:

As they lay under an Apple Tree she had been so full of the magic spells of her new lover she had forgotten everything before. It came back to her now as she looked upon the gorgeous creature lying next to her under the tree whose seed she now carried. He was clearly in love with her. They had flown outside the garden into the lands of the First People. She became afraid. She had never been afraid before.

“I think we have…”she could not find a word for what she felt.

“You are learning now. I am an eternal being and our children will have half of my life span and will seem like gods and goddesses to these people.” The creature beside her waved a lazy, finely tattooed blue hand at the surrounding area. “Would you like to be seen as a goddess? You are my goddess! I will find a way to make you live forever!” His eyes looked fierce and his blue-green muscles flexed in his arms. He later would, indeed, cause her to live in what seemed to be ‘forever’. She would be known as Ishtar and Astarte. She would be known as Hera and Ashura; some would call her Inanna and still others would call her ‘Lilllith’.

“We need to go back in the garden and check on HIM! I was not supposed to leave him alone!” Panic possessed her! What was she supposed to do? “Please! PLEASE take me back!”

“You belong to me now and no longer to HIM, but we may go back.” The angel caused wings to grow from her back and she cried out from the pain. “This will hurt only this time. Then you may change your shape as you please. Come. Fly back with me.”

They flew back to the Garden of Paradise and found an invisible barrier they could not cross. They could only watch as the Great Creator caused the King of the World to fall asleep a second time and they watched as a new woman, who looked exactly as the first one, was created for him. SHE began to cry as she realized what had happened. “Why are you sad? he will never know it is not you and I love you with all of my being!” She stiffened in his arms as her tried to hold her close and regain her once innocent heart but it was too late. She looked at the Angel with hatred and vowed to get even with him even if it took Eternity. He hung his head and huge waves of sorrow washed over him as she watched her fly away carrying his unborn children. He would never know that every daughter she raised she would raise to hate him and his kind even as she gave them all in marriage to the Sons of Light.

They would destroy the world.

The First People were kind. She was heavily pregnant and had no where to go, having adopted their shape they did not recognize she was one of the ‘others.’

Her once beautiful ‘Light’ had seduced the second woman and the third attempt at creative redemption. The child was born a cursed twin to his fraternal twin and the children of two different fathers had shared one womb. She felt soory for the ‘other woman’ but it was not her problem. She was also about to give birth. They had allowed her into their cave dwelling and, for the first time in human history, she noted they had killed animals and made leather. She tried to talk to the Great Creator as she had before but That One could not hear her anymore. She had watched, with both pity and satisfaction, as the man she had been paired with and his new bride had been driven away from their beautiful home and made to drink the blood of the animals they had named and loved.

Only one creature she had named. If he had loved her so much why did he go to the other woman as well?

“Oh God! Oh God please talk to me like days of old!”

But there was nothing. The First People thought she was praying and was a priestess. They made her sacred and they piled stones for her to sacrifice animals upon the alter so they could appease her God. To kill these creatures whose language she once understood killed her inside as well but it was ordained to be so. They showed her the drawings and carvings of the ‘gods’ on the rock and she recognized who she had been. They had told the story of the tree and the storm there as well and it made her feel the foreboding future.

When the pains came she screamed as she was torn in two and felt Death near to take her away as her baby girl cried “LIFE!” and was born. When Light came to save the woman he had once loved and restore her once more she allowed this and the people saw they had ‘gods’ living amongst them and they worshiped these gods. The baby girl was as fair as Light and the mix of blue-green and copper resulted in a pale and lovely olive gold with black eyes and hair. So it was the First People called her ‘Fire’ and she was the first of the many goddesses on the earth.

Light and Lillith danced again and made a son.

The son and the daughter married and what would become ‘Egypt’ one day was born to them. From them would come Greece and from Greece would come Rome and from Rome would come Europe and from Europe would come America: the youngest nation of that kind.

From the ‘other woman’ came Mesopotamia and that became Babylon and that became China, The Middle-East and Saudia and from these would come Pakistan: the youngest nation of that kind.

Everyone knows about the Great Flood and how humanity started over and why it had to be done. They don’t know all the details but it really isn’t needed to explain me or why I exist.

I am HER daughter. The one that some call ‘Lillith.’

One that other say is the spawn of shape-shifting lizard people. They are only partly right.

I found this out when I met her in a dream.

I was looking for something unknown,

There is a road,
An Old Path,

… It is not large enough to accommodate two travelers walking side by side. It winds around a lake in the north. The land is rolling hillside covered with Cedar Green and blood rusted dirt and yellow sunflowers. The air is thick and the wind blows hard from the south.

I walked on this same road alone many times.

I came to a place at the foot of a steep red hill

A grove of Cedar Trees lay ahead. The shade looked cool and easy to a traveler. As I entered the grove there was an old woman
sitting quietly at it’s center, tailor fashion, rocking back and forth, like I did as a child, while she crooned.

It sounded like some anguished prayer and I thought to myself, “What is wrong with this old woman to cause her such sorrow?”
I waited, curious but detached until she saw me. freezing in mid-prayer, she did not bother to look at me or turn,

“Who are you?”

“A tired traveler….”

“No…who are YOU!”

She commanded me

“I am a lion…captured and trained by evil gods,
I have all the instince to breed but the ability stolen…
I fled the cage with wild yearning but my keeper
Came and rescued me from near starvation
I was never taught to survive…
I escape every time and am returned to the cage….
Every time.”

“What is you NAME!”

Another demand….a harsh demand

“My name is Moira, Mara, Maria, Mary, Marie, Maryam, Mirium, Meara….”
I trailed off

“Mary” she sighed deeply,
“Each contact is a stab for me…it hurts to be alive…”

She rose slowly from the ground and turned to face me,

“Why would you speak with me?”

I wanted to leave because I had no easy answer. Had I been seeking her? I was only walking the Old Path. How could she have seen me so clearly? It seemed as if I knew those eyes: her eyes. They were at once both clear and black…bright and young in an old and withered face. As she studied my face she began to chuckle….

I DID KNOW HER!

“You know who I am and you are speechless!
What do you ask the first woman on earth?
What to you say to someone as old as dirt?
You believe that if you understand me
You will understand yourself…so be it….
But I will make no promises…”

I stayed with her until I went to sleep and woke up in the ‘other’ world where life is modern. The next night I woke up once more in the cedar grove and there was the old woman, praying and crying in that odd language,

“Why are you crying?”

“Why?” She almost swallowed the word with a sob,

She turned and those young-old eyes pinned me,

“I weep for my children who will, shortly, destroy each other. They will unleash the great force of light…Wisdom…but there will be no wisdom it it. The light will annihilate them…..once light was a rainbow after the first rains, and far away where I could no longer go was a lovely garden in my memory, I gave the gift of free will where only destiny should have been measured…
This would have been given when it was time to give it….I gave it too soon.”

She was crying again.

“I have been all over the world. Very few noticed me. I have seen everywhere but where I wish to return to. I have seen the Earth when she was an infant…I have seen what my children have done to her and to themselves….”

Again she was weeping…

While she cried I thought of all the places I would never see. I already knew in my heart and had seen that much was written. The Rift Valley, Mount Everest, The Khyber Pass….all dreams of dreams….The fables cities for song and story: Tashkent, Samarkand, and I might never see Kashmir. These places danced in my head and I knew the old woman had seen them all…how horrible to see the end from the beginning….the price to pay for teaching too much…to be deathless without any glory left…

“STOP NOW!”

She screamed at me.

“Do NOT dream of what you DO NOT know that way leads to the death!”

I looked at her stern face with it’s still strong lines etched in iron,

“How did you know what I was thinking?” I asked softly,

“You are a part of me I can never reclaim. You are that part of me which desired to learn. I know you as well as I know my own self. You are my daughter.”

The old woman walked stiffly away from the grove then and the wind shifted now blowing from the north and the sun…sun here?….cast long shadows…what had become of time??? As I mused she was about to round a corner of the tall canyon,

“WAIT!!!!” I cried out to her

But she was gone.

I, once more, went to sleep in her night and woke up to my day and then went to sleep in my night at woke up to her day.

As I awoke once more in the cedar grove it was nightfall and she came back around the corner with sticks for a fire. She blew on them and a fire appeared.

The oldest woman on earth…

… “I thought you were dead.”

She began to laugh and cackle almost like the crackling fire…

“In all your readings where was it ever mentioned that I died? In one tradition I was turned into a demon…but that was not so. This is my punishment. To see all things deteriorate into nothing. I had children with him. SHE had children with him. On this earth are two sets of these. You are of mine. ”

This struck me with a kind of force past words. She was not talking about what happened AFTER the flood…she was…

….as the idea exploded in my head she started to laugh….

“You are right….I do not ever recall a story about your death.”

“My body has wasted away to almost nothing and so the impression was that I died. This pleases those who rule. I am an earth bound spirit and I cannot leave until I have completed the years of my curse here. Why you are allowed to meet me in this dream I do not know.”

Then I woke up and I have never seen her again.

Someday in Paradise

He is in the distance but I know it is him. Behind him snow drapes the high peaks like the hairs of old men. In this green valley we walk towards each other, our feet crushing rainbows of spring flowers. My feet thrill to the feel of long, soft uncut grass and energy from mountains shoots through my legs and I start to run…and see you start to run towards me.

Huge gasps of air until my head is high as the clouds below us just were the tree line and meadows start. Does the hawk above see us running? Blue so high almost black but my eyes see you with cinnamon linen snapping over each stride. Closer you come and you smile with your eyes creased and beard slopped over one shoulder.

What do I look like to you in this world beyond worlds?

Finally,

We will meet. After years and lives and time is gone we will meet. I have waited for you a lifetime. The love I could never find in this life. 

My body flies over the heather and I feel my hair, now long again, streaming behind me like the soft skirt I embroidered with flowers of every shade, with my own hands. 

“Cinnaaaaaaaamonnnn!!!!!!!”

I cry your name and I think you run faster but time is not fast enough or it is too fast or it does not matter because you will meet me here in this paradise. Your arms reach out and as we meet the momentum makes us tumble, in a spin, to the soft turf. It breaks our fall. I find myself looking down at your glowing smile. Each of your hands is on one of my shoulders, holding me up while a smooth your long brown beard and comb it with my fingers. Still you have said nothing. Only your eyes have joy.

“What do I look like to you? I can only see you. I cannot see myself.”

I am resting with one palm on either side of your head now…our legs tangled in my skirts…my scarf falling across us and you grab it and let me go so I fall upon your chest and, without any words, you roll over until you look down into my eyes with cinnamon eyes. Breathing hard. Words are pointless. “No.” is pointless. You will not speak.

You pull the huge dupatta over our heads and touch my lips with yours. They are soft, warm and firm. Your body is heavy upon me and breathing is hard but I do not want to breathe I would be happy to die in this moment but now there is no death. Only You. 

I remember the lies I told you about how I really felt about you. I am startled as you say,

“I knew they were lies. I also lied. You meant as much to me then, even though we were both deeply flawed, as you mean to me at this moment. I have waited a lifetime just for this now.”

“You are my universe.” I whisper,

“You are also my universe.”

I reach my hand to touch his face and then both arms around his neck to pull him to me once more. How to put words to the flood of emotion? A kind of fierce sweetness and even his kisses taste like cinnamon. His hand behind my head now and his arm under the small of my back so I am pushing up against his body, arching into him. He feels strong like these mountains. I want to make my body a cradle for him. My hands move to his shoulders and hold on tight. I can feel him growing hard against my belly and I want him in it. I want him to fill me with eternity. 

The Edmond Mosque

Nadeem posted me some videos to watch by a popular Islamic scholar. I heard them over my iPhone he gave me and after the last one Memory came and tapped me on the shoulder.

First I have to say that, in recent events, I now have a cover like others who are also writers and help from an IT guy when I needed it and he was reliable and prompt to answer.

All these people are Pakistani.

People often call the names here having no real knowledge of anything. People from India, Pakistan and Saudia Arabia are all ‘Rag-heads’ but those ‘rag-heads’ are as culturally diverse and different and you can imagine and hardly anyone from Pakistan wears ‘rags’ on their heads. People just see someone brown and assume that shade of brown is the same and do not even bother to notice name, dress, or any other factor that might show there are differences.

As I finished listening to the videos and Memory came I told Nadeem the story from 1991.

I was living with my friends then. I lived with them for six months. During that time I learned so many things. The most important thing being that they loved and accepted me just the way I was and I was a crazy messed up person.

One night at midnight everyone was awake, with the exception of those who had to get up early. We were talking about God and Fahad and Faraz decided they would show me the mosque. I was concerned. I said,

“I am not Muslim. I am not supposed to see the inside of one unless I am Muslim because that is what I have always been told.”

“No no! It is not like that!,” said Fahad, “The imam there he loves all people he will talk with all people or teach anyone who asks and wants to learn. He will not mind.”

Fahad had a key. He was one of those who could recite much of the Quran and maybe even a hafiz, although if he was he never bragged about it. He was a very holy-minded person but not the kind that beat people over the head with it. He was the kind that lived what he believed and smiled and was always happy and peaceful. It was Winter it was and cold out so I was wearing a heavy knitted shawl. Fahad got the key and Faraz drove us both to the mosque.

We pulled into the parking lot and Fahad unlocked the door.

“Do I have to cover my head?”

“No you are not Muslim you do not need to cover.” Fahad smiled at me.

I was going to enter without my head covered but I could not show less respect in a holy building than I had shown in a Catholic Church when I had to wear a ‘mantilla’ to church when I was a child. To the surprise of them both I pulled my heavy shawl over my head….

…and we went in. It was very small and simple. There were notices on the wall and I peeked into the main prayer room where they held Jummah. The carpet was a curious set of lines that automatically oriented the one who would pray in the right direction. Along the tops of the walls was the lovely Arabic Script and Fahad said they were suras.

They showed me the door to where the women prayed because I said I wanted to pray. They did not know what a wreck my life was because, while I was with them, I was so happy to be accepted and a part of their lives. But I had been looking for God and looking for answers and not finding them anywhere. I felt like I had to pray while I was there. If God could not hear me anywhere else maybe God could hear me there?

I knelt on the floor facing the way the carpet lines directed and put the shawl over my body and started to pray. I did not know about looking right or left. I did not know to greet God first I did not know anything about Islam really except what was glossed over in Comparative Religions class or was a part of the history of the Mughal Empire. I prayed out the human wreck of my heart this way,

“God I have no idea what you want from me and no idea what to ask for so just be with me and let Justice happen and let all thing be for all people for the best good.”

That was all I knew to say and I stayed there for some unknown time, in the dark, crying because I had no more words. I was sad that there did not seem to be an answer but, resolved, I got up off the ground and wiped my face on my sleeve and, with the heavy knit shawl over my head went back out to meet them. They were talking in the foyer waiting for me. Faraz said,

“Did God answer you and do you feel better now?”

“I did not hear God answer but I do feel better now.”

“That is good. I feel better after I pray.” said Fahad.

I was to lose them all for 20 years and some of them I was to lose for my life time. The way they were I have never lost the memory. Whatever time has done to them and to me the memories of those days never leave me. But I was so happy to get two of them back 20 years later. You see I was sure it would be only in paradise before I saw them again.

Years later, in 2005, I became Muslim. I would be a liar if I said that my love for my old friends had nothing to do with it. Allah bless them them all for eternity.

(Dedicated to Pasha because he was dissapointed once)

I Love You Habibi

He sat in front of the computer feeling a little bit like an asshole and angry with her because she could not understand what she did to him. They had been soul friends for five years and he had shared things with her you can’t share even with your best friends or your parents. She was weird. She was loveable and comfortable until….

…he leaned back in the chair and thought about it. He had never wanted to know what she just told him, yes he had known, somewhere in his heart that it was true but it was never said and it could be avoided like not seeing the cockroaches at your aunt’s house. You love your aunt dearly and you hate the cockroaches. That was what she was like. She gave and gave and gave what little she had. She even helped the desperate men who had no where else better to go. He hated that. But those were cockroaches. She was amazing. She made him feel like he could conquer the world. She supported every dream he had and even once was his first customer. Sometimes she was even embarrassing like the retarded kid you don’t want to be seen with but he was tough enough for that until….

…he looked at the words on the screen in an odd mix of shock and knowledge. Somehow he had known it was coming and somehow he had wished it never was coming and…the words were there…accusatory…proof that what he believed was right and he had done wrong and yet…

Those words.

Suddenly he could not stand her anymore. Those words suddenly made her a joke. He hated that. He hated himself and he hated her for that too. What did he do to deserve this? This loss was as devastating as the death of a best friend. Now she was as uncomfortable as she had been comfortable all those years but, many times, he had known…

…there was the day he sent her the James Blunt song as an underhanded threat to tell her that she would be better off dead than to imply…but there were those words on the screen. Not only the words but the flood of the human heart. The fact that he was her hero. The best one. That huge amounts of her poetry were about him. That he was holy.

He hated that. He never wanted to be anyones hero. He just wanted to be….

He got up out of the computer chair and hit a wall. He felt like killing something. He felt like she had killed something special. You see he knew all about her too. He knew the reality that she would ever find true love was slim. He knew she was a lonely old lady stuck in childhood forever because she never was able to become a mother or grandmother and that all her life knowledge was the same a devdas would have and that…

He went back to the desk and looked at the words on the computer. He wished he could be a real asshole but his mother didn’t raise him that way. He wanted to kill her for being so lost. He knew some of his best friends had shared things with her from mutual lonliness…

…he winced.

The woman he had shared all these things with over the years, as if she was a jigri friend, and she blew it up with those words and he knew he was going to hurt her and there was no way to avoid it. He wanted to lay all the blame on her but he knew he could not it was his as well. That beautiful, amazing souled old jadu with the face he could barely look at…he could stare at her soul all day in facination but her face….

…butter face….

He laughed bitterly as he realized he was shallow, as shallow as the many who made a public joke of her. They did not know how much she loved them all but she said ‘I love you’ to everyone nearly…she loved everyone the way a mongoloid kid loves everyone…even the ones laughing at her and stabbing her in the back. She had no idea the flack he took for being so close to her and there were those words….

…he stared at the screen, numb, because he knew those words did not mean the same for him as they did everyone else. It would have even been better if she meant them with lust because then he could burn her to the ground with impunity…but those words were not lust they were real and he knew they were real: as real as Life itself is real.

He did not know if he wanted to scream or cry or beat someone up or…but there was nothing he could do she was a soul trapped in a box who had become as real as…and he had to leave the house with a straight face and feel nothing and act like nothing…he had already customized his posts so that she would not see, and be hurt, by the fact that she was not as important anymore as girls and life became more real to him than the witch-lady-in-the-box that had given him and taught him so very much. Deep inside he hated himself for what he was going to do and he hated her for making him do it….but those words….they were like a bomb that blew up his mental universe…he knew she would never be able to follow him into Life and he knew that many, like him, had done the same to her before and broken her heart over and over and over…and he was going to join their ranks.

He looked at the words again…

“I love you Habibi.”

And he said goodbye forever.

Your Highness

(A folktale)

The People asked God for a KING.

“Why do you need a king? Don’t you have everything you need?”

“We need a king please give us a king! We want what those people over there have!”

“What do they have that you don’t have?”

“They have roads and fancy buildings and farm-fields and…..”

“But they are not free like you are they have to pay taxes and….”

“But they have FANCIER WOMEN and ours look plain next to them!”

…..and so it was done and God gave the people a king. They got a king because they wanted “what those people over there” had. This was the start of all the trouble. You see before then they were pretty much free and could travel all over the place and they had magic shoes even but it was not enough. They wanted something someone else had. They got it. Being a king is not that easy because suddenly people quit thinking for themselves and expected the king to think FOR them.

“Your Highness when should we build a new barn? Your Highness should we coin money to represent goods? Your Highness the family that lives by the big rock refuses to work and their kids are starving and that isn’t right and….YOUR HIGHNESS YOUR HIGHNESS”

Your Highness had a bad headache. He had to figure out all by himself how to give the people what they wanted and that was hard work and no one said thank you and if he made a mistake they threatened to kill him and it was a mess but he did it anyway because God made him a KING and he was a CASTE unto himself and so his whole family should benefit and he should have a royal life too because he watched THOSE GUYS over THERE and that OTHER king lived in a PALACE and didn’t he deserve the same?

Your Highness made a mint and made money happen and taxes and buildings and he made LAWS because people NEEDED laws so that they would not NEED to think for themselves about not taking THAT GUY OVER THERE’s stuff away from him (starting with a palace with guards to help protect him from people that wanted to kill him) and pretty soon THOSE people OVER THERE noticed Your Highness had a better kingdom than they had and they decided to try to TAKE it from him by force.

Your Highness had ANOTHER headache and had to raise an army to fight the army that was coming to kill the king…and so it went on…

In the thousands of years in between then and now millions of people were born and died and born and the institution of Kingship was entrenched. People could not do anything without a King. They could not function without laws but over all those years a whole system came to be that put all the power in the hands of a very few and those few used that power like a hammer on the minds and hearts of the people. They HAD TO or they knew they would lose everything. They were scared to death to lose everything so they had to scare the people as badly as they were scared so they hired smart people to make scary weapons that would destroy the world and then they took the world hostage.

That is how a very few people came to rule millions of people who mostly hate their rulers guts and would like to take them out but are scared to death of the kingdom collapsing and losing all their goodies a kingdom gives…

They should have never asked for a king. Each man should have ruled himself. Worked for himself. Lived for himself and the good of the community. Maybe they would not have been fancy but maybe they would have been happy and everyone would still have magic shoes?

Neglecting Your ‘Inner Barbie’

Firey Kiss (modified)

The other day I had an appointment with my shrink.

Nobody wants to hear another person whine and moan and complain about the bad things in their lives and that is how shrinks came to make a good living.T hey make alot of money to listen to people complain about things while other people starve in Africa. Now the word ‘Shrink’ is short for the combined terms of ‘head-shrinker’ which was originally applied to the profession of the psychiatrist, but has since become a catch-all term for everyone in that field. It is a derogatory term with origins in the idea of your enemies cutting off your head and literally shrinking it to an easily portable size…therefore people pay alot of money to gripe at someone they cannot stand. Of course many people NEED thier heads to be shrunken just a bit as they are so full of themselves that they have grown extremely large heads and must have a cart in which to transport them as the human neck was not designed to carry so much weight. In modern parlance we often refer to these people as ‘Barbie’ and ‘Ken’. These are, of course, allusions to the plastic and fake nature of a certain type of person that is a metaphorical match for the actual plastic dolls themselves.

Interestingly enough Ken is not anatomically representative of a true male and is a further metaphor for what extreme feminism has done to the Western world…but I digress.

ANYWAY!

I had an appointment with my shrink. I was really upset at the lack of males I was able to find in my immediate vicinity. There were HOURDES of creatures who RESEMBLED men all over the place but each time I went fishing I caught a ‘KEN!’ The whole situation was very frustrating to say the least! I told her;

“I am tired of asking for dates and chasing men! Every husband I ever had, I asked them to marry me, and I divourced them. Where are the men? I wear a dress but underneath there is ALWAYS a pair of pants!”

She laughed gently. (Now you have to understand that my shrink is  five foot ten, weighs about 120 pounds, has huge plastic boobs and fake white Chiclet teeth! She is what was once called ‘the blond bombshell’) She said, “You are neglecting your inner Barbie.”

WELL! Some food for thought THERE!

“OK”, I am thinking to myself, “What does THIS mean?” While I am thinking she is smiling serenely. She lightly batted her transplanted eyelashes. Her permanent make-up was flawless. It came to me in a flash that she was a real life Barbie!

“Soooooo….my inner Barbie is SAD?” I asked her.

“Yes your poor inner Barbie has been very neglected.”

Well how could I tell her I was kicked out of a beauty pageant at the age of five for having asymetrical ears! Sheesh! It was not MY fault I was born with pointed ears! After that all my Barbies were hanging by the neck from my ceiling! I asked her,

“Soooooo…does this mean I have to get a boob job and Chiclet teeth?”

All of the sudden she looked HIGHLY offended! Something inside of me snapped and I laughed, “I know! I will BUY my inner Barbie a nose job and a mini-skirt like a hooker and I will buy her those ridiculous stilletto heels!”

By this time my shrink had a murderous look on her face and I realized I had just described her clothing. Somthing in me started to laugh at this point and all 250 pounds of me shook with it. I said, 

“I am going to get plastic surgery and spend about 50,000 dollars trying to look like my poor neglected inner Barbie! Can you write me a disability letter saying that I have this condition so my insurance will pay for it?”

I have to find a new shrink.

It Was Him

shannonWhen you are online you often fall in love with people. You never tell them. There are those you can never put in the ‘gutter-of-the-human-mind’….

…but you still love them with all of your soul. They become the ‘muses’ for the sweetest stories of all. This is one of those stories.

It is storming outside. I always did love storms. I am wishing to be able to dance in the rain once more….climb on the roof and defy the lightning and exchange greetings with the thunder while mom screamed at me from the front yard to come off the roof….
“SHHHHHAAAANNIIIIIIIII!!!!!!! YOU COME DOWN RIGHT NOW!”
“C-R–R-R-R-R-R-R-R-R-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-C-C-C-C-C -K-K-K-K-K-K BOOOM BOOOM!!!!!!!”
“AYEIIIIIIIIIIIIAYEIIIIIIIIIIIAYEIIIIIIIIIIIAYEIIIIIIIIAYEIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!!”
“MAMAMAMMAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!! IT’S TALKING!”
….I slipped on the rain-wet roof and slid, joyfully down to the gutter and grabbed it just in time and swung down. Mom was crying in the rain. I felt bad.
“Y-y-y-yoouuuu c-c-c-ould-d-d-d have d-d-d-d-died….” her teeth were chattering in her skull….and I hugged her…..
“I love you mom.”, I looked up at her lovely face streaked with tears, “Mom is my dad my real dad or is my dad really an alien?”
She sighed, “You read too much…..” and took me by the hand and we went inside all cold and wet…and I was so elated with my chat with thunder.
Ahhhhhhh…..memory is so cruel. These legs now….no there is no point to think about it just go stand outside in the rain with your stick planted on the ground and defy nature more gently this time….yes….
I creak my way out of the chair and hobble over to the stick, made of strong, fire-hardened Ash that a sister had given me long ago. I grab the worn handle and gheta-walk outside my little hobbit hole into the pouring rain…I stand in the rain and cry…stick planted…and when the thunder cracks I have no voice to yell as days of yore…I whisper to the storm…
“I love you.”
I am thinking about the photo I had been gazing at for about an hour lost in a kind of half awake reverie…lost in those eyes. I hate myself for my thoughts as nothing could ever come of them and I was proud that I had never even flirted or even played with him online once. He was sacred to me…not in the sense of being GOD but in the sense of a person who is so far above you you glow with joy to get even one word. Even my most romantic thoughts I kick myself for a million times. I never let him drop into the gutters of my soul but I dream of those eyes….
…..it did not matter he would never know and nothing mattered anyway really. It never does you know. I am turning to go back inside and blinding light strikes from the sky with the smell of ozone and somewhere in the explosion of light in my brain the metal melts from my teeth that are left and I disappear into the light….

******************************************************************************

I hear the sound of sirens and radios. I look around and I am in the air. I look down and mom and one sister are scooping something black off the sidewalk where I had been standing. It is day? Where have I been? I go down…
“Mom?”
She closes her eyes and smiles and says to my sister while tears roll down her face….”She never did belong here. I can feel her near me. She will be happy now.”
There is another voice behind me.
“Come.”
“My mom?”
“Your mom will be blessed. You have a mission. You were groomed for it all your life. It is time to go now. Those ashes are not you. Those are an Ash-wood stick and you do not need it anymore.”
“Can she hear me?”
“Do you want her too? Would it be wise? Look at her she is happy….she hated what you had become.”
I watched the firemen come and hold my moms hand and my sisters while they cried with joy and sorrow both that I would not suffer anymore….
“Come. You do not, you never did belong there…..you are not human. Think…are you in any pain or grief? Do you feel loss? Let them go. You loved them and they loved you as best they could…
…..”
I ‘turned’ around………

………..It was HIM.
“I promised you we would go hiking together….”
He was smiling….he was trying not to show his teeth. IT WAS HIM! baseball cap, plaid shirt, cargo style jeans, trimmed beard, one eyebrow and eyes like lazars!
“You….”
He was still smiling.
“You look JEWISH! All you need is a ‘talat’ and….you….”
He suddenly laughed and his teeth were like mine…slightly imperfect…one front one sticking out just a LITTLE bit farther than the other one…
…..My GOD he was beautiful!
I began to smile back and suddenly was ashamed.
“I am sorry I should not….”, he was laughing softly and he cut me off
“I always was curious what you looked like when you were in your late teens….you look like ‘Legolas.’
OOOoooooooo!!!!!!!!!
I ran at him I planned to knock him down easily as big as I am….and…..
…..I WAS RUNNING! I was really surprised when I hit something solid going full steam….
“UFF! You can’t knock the wind out of me like that!”
He grabbed my wrist with one strong brown hand and I looked and as he caught me and kept us both from falling backwards……
…..my hand
…..my wrist
…..slender and no wrinkles….no warped fingers!!!!!!
As he held my hand we kept falling backwards into….?
“Where are we?”
He just kept on laughing…..as we fell he kept on laughing.
We fell into white wet clouds and he wrapped his arms around my shoulders and laced his fingers through mine and held on to me very tightly from behind…..
“Remember when you asked me if I could make you fly? Well get ready!”
We shot up out of the cloud bank still wet and into the sun and over cloud fields that looked like vast snow-scapes dotted with round rainbows. We went so fast and yet felt no resistance like we should have…..he was laughing even more and in my ear he whispered,
“I joined your Martian Space-time Folders Union!” ,
“Hey that was just a jo….”
Suddenly we were doing spirals and loop the loops and my words got left behind….It hit me then and he yelled to nothing in the vast space…
“Ahahahahahahahahaha!!!!! I always know what you are thinking!”
Up ahead was a huge mountain poking through the clouds! It blended in very well and it was covered with snow.
“K-2″ he whispered in my ear….all your dreams are about to come true.
We flew down beneath the clouds…..
Down below was a lovely land I had seen only in photos. In a valley in the high mountains…there was a green forest and a low rock wall along a road. Details became more clear as we descended. I took a deep breath.
“That’s the smell of eucalyptus trees!” Now we were encountering the resistance of wind and sound. Suddenly I noticed he seemed more solid and the ground was coming up faster. he was warm and strong and his beard tickled my neck through my….
….MY HAIR! I had cut it all off because it was too hard to take care of….now his beard was sticking through long hair trapped on his chest because he was holding on so tight…and I could feel his breath and his smile….
“You are the way you were a long time ago. Restored. You always belonged with us. With me.
Restored? What? How? What was that supposed to mean?
As I pondered this conundrum we hit a hillside and were rolling down it with his arms still locked around me. The grass was thick and green and at the bottom he had lost his cap somewhere and he was laying on his back with me laying on top…he was still laughing….
He should be gasping for air! he should be…..
“I should be letting you go right about now. I just don’t feel like it.
He released my hands and opened is arms and I tried to sit up and not crush him to death and I found myself flipped over and looking into lazar eyes…
“You are not too heavy. I wish I had a mirror. Oye…How am I going to explain you to my mother!”
I suddenly realized I was wearing something. He had put his arms around me again and I could feel material….soft lightweight material.
“Salwaar-kameez….blue….green and yellow embroidery….you look beautiful….not like Legolas at all…We are going to have to hike back. This is trail number four.”
“Thik hai..” I whispered, but I am tired…”
“It’s OK rest a little bit but we have to get back before anyone is worried about me….”
I fell asleep.
When I woke up my hair was a tangled mess and he was laughing and making little long, blond braids in it…he had shifted me around and put the dupatta over his own head and his eyes were smiling at me in the sun that would soon be hidden behind a mountain. He was laying beside me with one leg thrown over my legs and one forearm under my neck while we lay slanting upwards in the soft grass.
His lips reached up and kissed my forehead and he pulled the dupatta off his head as he unwound himself from around my body and pulled me up from the ground until I was standing upright and he fixed the scarf over my head. he had a cell phone with him. He called someone and I recalled another life another lifetime ago when I heard that comforting sound every day. I did not understand all of it but I knew he was explaining to someone he was bringing a guest home. he flipped the phone shut and sighed….
“This is going to take a while. Just trust me. You can walk this far now. Just follow me I know you loved hiking once…..
He was right…I did.

The Library

Library0309_039(Every once in a while you meet someone you will just have to love in the next life. Even if you WANTED to write naughty stuff about them you CAN’T. The attempts do turn into very sweet stories. Here is another one.)

He’s beautiful. I am sneaking peaks at him over my book while inhaling the smell of books. Stacks of books. Everywhere books. This is an old style library and I did not think I would find another human anywhere. I have been living here for some months but I cannot tell you how long. This whole town is abandoned. It was so far out from the cities it was not looted bare after the riots, floods and earthquakes. Books had been spilled out of shelves over a cracked foundation that was still level although I had noticed rain had ruined some of the books when I had found this place.
When I first got here I started to clean up the mess a little bit at a time, walking to the various stores in the small town main street for supplies I had hoped to find people but all of them were gone. It was eerily strange. No bones. No vultures. I was very glad at that time to find a town with food stocks and a pharmacy left. There were neatly parked cars everywhere. Some of them were even unlocked but nothing worked after the EMF’s went off. No people.
The place was full of people’s pets, however, and horses and cows and many had already broken free or died from starvation but, for the most part, there was food everywhere. Toothpaste to last one human a life time. Books full of knowledge. And now….
He’s beautiful.
I would have loved to see even an ugly human being, ANY human being but I have the great good luck to see a really handsome fellow. He has dark, wavy hair and a dark brown beard and moustache. Dark eyes like sweet chocolate and long long eyelashes. His brow is like a bird with wings outlining those amazing eyes with a frame of perfection. His lips are like what mom once said about my little sister, “She has such sweet lips the bees stung them.”
Mom. Everyone lived all over the United States and I have no idea who is alive or dead but mom was lucky. She passed away smiling before the wars. I pushed those thoughts back. Thinking that way is a great way to go crazy. I had seen some crazy people on the way out of the chaos the city had become when the power failed, suddenly, everywhere. Planes crashed at the air force base. Cars wrecked on the freeways and there was so much destruction no medical personnel could really help because there was no neighboring state or place where the same things did not happen.
He’s beautiful.
It has been so long since I talked to anyone I wonder if I have a voice left. I had watched him come in: the door that didn’t fit right on the slightly slanted frame let in the raw sun. I never went out in that sun without protection. Part of the atmosphere was probably missing: the good part. silhouetted against the light he did not know anyone was in here as I was behind a bastion of shelves, at a small table, looking through a hole in the books. Just in case the light would shine on my face I keep the book before me and peek over it and watch him. he shut the door and wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve. Sun bleached jeans and a red plaid shirt and a base ball cap. He went over to the water fountain to try it. It still works. The whole water system in this weird town still works. When he threw the cap off to throw handfuls of water over his dusty hair I wanted to tell him that but I could not say anything. What should I say to a stranger?
I watch him. he looks tired. Throwing water all over his face and head in the water fountain. He looks hungry. OK this is the time.
“Hey.”
My voice sounds rusty and I think he just jumped ten feet and hit his head on the ceiling!
“Hey. I am soory I did not mean to scare you.”
He is looking at me like I have two heads and one eye! I get tense watching him walk slowly towards me as if he is not sure I am real. I can tell he is speechless. He is standing right in front of me and in this broken, dusty library in this broken, dusty world he reaches out and I still as still as a rock while his hand touches my cheek.
“You…you are REAL!”
He is snatching his hand back like I am on fire! That is OK I spent most of my life with guys who were that kind to be serious about running AWAY from me…the aim low players all had a great time with me and I did with them too because, face it, we all get what we can get. If he thinks I am repulsive that’s OK. Maybe I can get him to be friends.
“Would you like a Snickers Bar?”
“YES!!!!” His whole face is bright and he is smiling! Oh hell I think I am in love!
“Here, be my guest.”
He is trying not to eat that Snickers bar too fast but it is gone in less than a minute. he looks up, suddenly, with guilt on his face…
“I am soory. I was so hungry I did not leave you any.”
“Not a problem. This town was not looted. This town is very very weird.”
We spent the rest of the day exploring the deserted town. It wasn’t much fun to do alone but it was alot more fun with someone else. Especially with someone that good looking!
(Fini)

(I would write more but then it would turn into a love story and I can’t do that to you…but in case you ever might wonder how females might see you this is my gift to you…you are beautiful.)