Thursday, November 29, 2012
Fear Of Darkness
A serial novel by Joe Lake.
(So far: Julie meets Susan, the social worker, who says that she is from five hundred years in the future and gives Julie a ring to travel in different parallel universes. Susan warns Julie not to turn the ring by herself. Back in the van, the hologram of a man’s face appears and tells them that Susan gave the ring illegally and it is to be given back. John tells the image to get lost. When John tried to step from the van, the door was still blocked by a glass wall. Julie said she’d turn the ring.)
“You turned the ring,” said the holographic image of Susan, the woman from another dimension. Her projection was hovering just above the driver’s armchair in the motor home.
Julie said, “I turned the ring, although you told me last time to throw it away which I couldn’t because I’ve never had anything so mysterious and precious and I thought that you might one day want it back.”
“It has a powerful transmitter inside of millions of gigabytes and is being manipulated by forces that are in opposition to myself and all well-meaning humans from the past, present and future. It wants to lure you and John into a trap beyond my, our, control.”
“But why are we prisoners with this force-field at the door and windows and suddenly we have been transported into what looks like a jungle?” said John.
The hologram began to fade in and out as the ancient television sets used to do when the reception was bad. “You are under the control of the people who created the ring which is a tool most of us here in the future use like a mobile phone, only these miscreants, these hackers, have moved your home through space into a parallel universe; actually, they haven’t, they made a copy of you both and your contrivance and now there are two of you, well, four in different universes. One Julie and John, here on this jungle planet, and two of you still there at Cooee where your twins are now free to leave the van to do whatever business pleases them.”
“But we still can’t get through the door, can we?” asked John.
“No. It is better if you don’t. Now, Julie, turn the ring right-side up and all may be back to normal and you won’t even remember that you’ve been in another universe.”
“We still remember flying through the air above Burnie when you took us,” said Julie.
“You didn’t, really. I put those images into your head,” said Susan.
Julie turned the ring right-side up.
(To be continued next month
Joe Lake's View
It will get warm for a few months here and then the cycle turns the other way; as the world spins.
I bought a laughing, singing Christmas decoration ornament ball that opens and shuts its eyes and mouth. Clever, from China.
Someone said to me the other day that the whole of the New Testament is fiction and that Christ was never born, nor did he ever exist except in stories. To this I say, how come he is alive and well in our hearts?
I have a little hot house at the bottom of the garden. I’ve planted some strawberries and some of them have committed suicide for no apparent reason. One is still going strong. I’ve given it sulphate of potash. I might give it some blood and bone next. The snow peas in the garden are climbing up their supports but only three are left, all the others went to a better place which is not in my garden. The broad beans have little black aphids on them and I was advised not to spray too much as this will keep the bees away.
I’ve been reading in New Scientist about death: its myths etc but they pussyfoot around the issue. I suppose they don’t want anyone to take independent action. Personally, when I had terrible pain and I had to go to hospital, they put me on a bed and gave me an injection, probably morphine. The world turned peaceful and warm and I could have easily slipped into whatever is on the other side.
Merry Christmas to you all. May the good Lord stay in your hearts forever.
Yvonne Matheson, Shine The Blue Away
Shine The Blue Away
The gold in the street of the
eternal home shines forever,
No blues. Everyone will be happy,
There will be beauty of such variety,
Look towards Heaven.
Think of gleaming jasper walls,
True believers in Christ
think of jewelled foundations.
On Earth, Christ was the
cornerstone foundation,
Wipe the blue away and think
of the eternal home
where no one wants to roam.
Life has many struggles,
But think of the wonderful
abode above - His love.
With our loving Saviour,
Heavenly bliss.
God’s children no need to wish.
© Yvonne Matheson
Post 9/11 Cheers
Post-9/11 Cheers
I’m holding a photo in my hand taken in 1995,
Of three smiling children sitting on Santa’s knee.
They have large brown eyes and olive skin.
The children’s mother is hovering with me
In the background while looking at candles.
She often reiterated how she loved the
Flickering candles in the churches of Damascus.
The mother of the children, on Christmas Day,
In the 1960s, gave Christmas gifts
And invited neighbours in for Christmas dinner.
Only she didn’t serve ham
As she is of the Islamic faith.
I wonder how these people celebrate Christmas,
the festive season, post 9/11.
© Judy Brumby-Lake
Jewels, Michael Garrad
Jewels
It pleases the rain
to balance upon the leaf
and slender branch,
To bask in the after-glow of storm,
To bedazzle as jewels
in this burst of sun,
Precious in the rich calm,
Priceless is the lure
upon the limb,
Riches within hand’s reach,
Plucked from sight
in bathe of breeze,
Scarce time for impoverished
eye to blink,
To vanish, so pure,
in the undergrowth,
This vale of green,
Such is the harvest of sad cloud.
© Michael Garrad October 2012
My View, Michael Garrad
It’s that commercial time of year again when businesses hope the local economy will see an upturn, which means increased turnover and, hopefully, some kind of profit.
Successful trading means jobs and don’t the pollies just love that – jobs growth (so positive!) and, maybe, just maybe, more votes!
That’s what Christmas is all about – increasing the take and then everyone (who is anyone!) can sit around the lunch table and, smugly, enjoy all the fare of The Day! (What about the workers?)
But, hey, have we lost sight of what’s going on here? Isn’t Christmas supposed to have religious significance? Isn’t it about carols, family, giving and receiving, and celebrating the birth of Christ?
Oh, yes, that’s right! I remember now. I read about it once on the back of a matchbox (thanks so much, John Cleese!).
Does Christmas still hold a certain magic for children – Santa and his sleigh and a sack full of presents? Most kiddies in this tech-savvy age know the real story about reindeers on the roof in the wee hours!
A lot of families go to church to pray and be thankful for what they have while others like to be seen praying because that’s socially desirable. Then there are still more who are thankful because they live to trade another year! Not forgetting those who make the banks thankful for their very generous use of credit cards.
Be happy!
Last Husband, Cherie H.
Last Husband
He loved the sea
more than me.
I, on the land,
did not understand.
© Cherie H.
The Legend Of Christmas, June Maureen Hitchcock
The Legend Of Santa Claus
It’s Christmas Eve and all is well.
Across the night sky, Santa in his sleigh speeds,
Cutting a path between the stars;
His elves have been busy all year round,
Making toys to meet children’s needs.
Wearing his best Christmas suit,
He will bring everyone cheer -
But sadly though, he visits only once a year!
Santa’s sack of gifts weighs him down
And in his haste, a toy or two might fall to Earth -
Perhaps to be picked up by a child
In a far-off land
Where Christmas doesn’t exist
And where children definitely don’t make lists!
For them, Christmas is known only
In rich nations’ song -
Oh why can’t the toys be given
To whomever they really belong?
Outlined against a silver moon,
Santa speeds on and on -
He’s in too much haste to hear the moon’s mirth,
For that old man laughs at the long-held myth,
When children constantly ask - does Santa really exist?
In this sad world, the real meaning of Christmas
Has been almost lost -
And, we all wonder at what cost?
In the future’s dark forests, in the mists of time,
Dear Santa Claus may be remembered
Only in rhythm -
And in rhyme.
© June Maureen Hitchcock
Give Us... Cathy Weaver
Eyeing The Options
All were sitting ’round the room mostly silent
the ladies looking at their hands or the floor,
while I eyed off one sitting opposite
whose hint of smile promised more.
Ladies held the numbers ten to one.
With such odds I was in with a chance
but my wheelchair would be a problem -
I could hardly go ask her to dance.
So I tried just making eye contact
’cos I thought she looked rather nice
but this was only my first time in here
I was struggling with breaking the ice.
Another, nearby, had soft shining hair
framing her kindly porcelain face
and her bearing suggested she’d come
from a life full of ease and grace.
Yes, this was looking quite promising
I could see no good reason to moan
though I wasn’t so sure to begin with
I’ll be happy in this nursing home.
© Pete Stratford
Give Us . . .
Give us love; not just lust;
Give us beauty; not ugliness;
Give us peace; not war;
Give us nourishment; not hunger;
Give us relief; not torment;
Give us rain; not drought;
Give us kindness; not hatred;
Give us happiness; not sadness;
Give us sanity; not madness;
Give us truth; not lies;
Give us life eternal; not extinguishment.
© Cathy Weaver
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