Insightful Prudence
“I know what you do not believe,”
she said, then asked of me,
“but what are the things
you do believe?”
There are degrees to tenets,
woven into minds and bodies,
affecting life from
existence to death, and for some,
beyond.
Beliefs imbued tinge deeply
whereas doubts draw judgment
and castigation. Rational perception
threatens others.
Do not ask. Watch me.
Look both ways when using reasoned thought.
Mind the gaps for hidden traps.
Why so Happy?
As Hanukkah ends
Kwanzaa begins, and it is boxing day in Canada.
Because yesterday over two billion enlightened
of the eight billion humans alive
decide a religious thing and dispute
coffee cups and well wishes,
which must be specifically selfish.
It’s also the climaxing week of
collegiate football bowls
so schools can decide who to fire
or to obscenely overpay with locked down
contracts having nothing to do
with anything educational (or successful)
except that we are better than you—
more near neurotic selfishness. Yay,
we’re number one (so what?).
But it is serious business
for calendars. The end of another
elliptical orbital trip around the
minor star we call Sun,
and another 365 days bite the dust.
In the meantime, libraries close,
school music programs falter
or are cancelled to reduce cost,
and art blows in the wind.
Happy holidays. Congratulations,
it’s a wonderful life, Mister Potter.
Look both ways except this week.
For twenty-twenty-two, it’s over.
Mind the gaps for “what have we done?”
Happy Hanukkah everyone.
The eight-day Jewish festival, which began at nightfall yesterday, is also known as the festival of lights, or the Feast of Dedication. It commemorates the recovery of Jerusalem and rededication of the Second Temple at the beginning of the Maccabean revolt.
As a child growing up in a relatively “strict” Roman Catholic family, I recall all the “Christmas” cards we received during December. Mom used them to decorate our home. I recall many of the cards wishing us Happy Holidays and Happy Hanukkah. This was from the late 1940’s through the 1960s.
While I attended a Catholic parochial elementary school, I also recall saying “Happy Hanukkah” and playing with dreidels (or similar toys). A dreidel is a four-sided top bearing Hebrew letters. I ate some Jewish foods (year-round) and drank sweet kosher wine, but I did not learn the full meanings and traditions until years later.
When my children were growing up, they (and we) had Jewish family friends. During the holiday season one Jewish friend went to our children’s public schools and explained the Hanukkah festival. During the eight-day festival, my children spent many evenings at their friend’s home learning about Jewish traditions, eating the special foods, and participating in lighting the nine light menorahs (Chanukiah).
While Hanukkah is a minor Jewish religious holiday, for me it is full of happy (and a few sad) memories, and I ponder the possibilities. One more time, Happy Everything, Everyone.
Look both ways to learn the stories our friends and neighbors have to share.
Mind the gaps because no two are exactly alike.
For our October’s eve challenge, Mistress Rochell has worked her magic of Friday Fictioneer redux by reviving a past portraiture of her own. It’s a busy time of year for our illustrious maven.
Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, commenced at sundown this past Sunday, marking a time of the high holy days. Soon to follow will be Yom Kippur, then Sukkot.
Click on the picture of Rochelle’s lamps to be magically whisked to her blog page where her cauldron formula for fewer than 100-word stories can be realized.
Genre: Semi-speculative Fiction
Title: Lamps of Enlightenment
Word Count: 100
***
“Whale oil lamps? Your witch’s coven meets here tonight?”
It’s our October bridge meeting. Don’t call us witches. We play cards.
“Tarot cards.”
Dammit Jim, I’m a doctor—a scientist. Rochelle will explain magic and witches in the Bible.
“She’s Jewish. They don’t believe in witchcraft.”
She’ll explain. The Witch of Endor is in ‘Samuel’ when Saul calls her. I want you gone.
“No worries. I don’t play bridge. They scare me.”
Before you go, please fetch my broom and large cauldron from the attic?
“Sure thing. Double, double, toil and trouble; lamps to burn and a cauldron to bubble.”
***
Look both ways when learning about friends.
Mind all the gaps lest someone put a spell on you.
What day is it boys and girls and other less binary-specific people? It’s not Howdy Doody time with Buffalo Bob. It is Wednesday’s Friday Fictioneers time hosted by the magical and majestic Mistress Rochelle, who by now we all know so well.
By slipping us a Lisa Fox pontoon boat photo taken in front of Preacher (formerly Buffalo) Bob’s Church of What’s Happenin’ Now, we are to be blessedly inspired to contrive a little lily-white, fib-ological story in all its radiant glory.
If you want the whole homily about telling your own fewer than 101 words heavenly-inspired story, clicking on Li’s pic should do the trick.
Genre: Magical Get Realism
Title: The Bigger Boat
Word Count: 100
Wanda said, “The kids are grown and gone. Let’s buy a boat and sail around the world.”
Alfie said, “Great idea, Honeypot. Preacher is selling his.”
At the church Brother Bob says, “Praise God. Wanda and Alfie. We ain’t seen y’all in a coon’s age.”
“We are empty nesters who wanna buy your boat and sail around the world. Wanda’s idea.”
Y’all’s boaters?
We ain’t, Preach. We aim to learn, quit our jobs, sell the house, and go for it.
Well dang, Alf! You’re gonna need a bigger boat. I’ll pray for y’all.
Thanks, Preacher. A bigger boat you say?
Look both ways, find what you love, and let it kill you.
Mind the gaps and check the weather.
The sharks are always biting.
Click HERE to link up with a parcel of other inspired stories, good to go until next Wednesday when we will discover another fine photo with which to proceed.
This story is not truly 100% fiction, but the line about the bigger boat I bogarted from the Jaws movie.
And the humorous nature of my Li-inspired lie was partly set to sail by a scene from Caddyshack.
Dale mentioned the Styx song “Come Sail Away” in THIS recent travel post, so I was tempted to use it. But I steal enough stuff.
Note: While I double check every link, I cannot determine if youtubes work outside of the USA. But it’s all about the micro-fiction. The links are ancillary.
Howdy, Y’all,
I think the a/c has been running since May. It’s August now, driving hotly through a summer of record temperatures and daily threats of more Texas power grid snafus. I just missed being born in this horrible month, but I know several who are so saddled. Yes. I should be grateful. Maybe I am, but.
I’m also somewhat non-clinically depressed and worried, not about me even though if I ain’t dead in ten years, I will be in twelve and if I leave the world better, will it be good enough?
Fourteen billion eyes, ears, and feet, for now; and I only ask for a couple dozen or so to be alright. Go ahead. Ask. How’s that workin’ for me?
Half of humanity seems nuts and hates the other half who hate back. There’s a hypothetical, conjectural god who seems completely cavalier about it all and is dismissal about unbridled slavery, too. They insist I stock credence and believe. What? Why?
The most important thing, apparently, comes conveniently after, and it’s not heaven. It’s hell. That’s where August takes all three-hundred and sixty-five days and nothing was last or is next and some guy keeps asking, what if this is as good as it gets? Ever?
Sweet dreams are made of this,
Amen to that,
Bill
PS: Everybody’s looking (both ways) for something. Mind the gaps for what some of them want to do. Who am I to disagree?
The Eurythmics have an interesting history.
Today the marvelous maven of Friday Fictioneers tempted us with a majestic photo of scenic waterfalls by David Stewart. What one-hundred-word (or fewer) story does it inspire you to tell us?
Click the pic to swim on over to Rochelle’s purple blog for the rules and to sign up for future email notices.
Genre: Romantic Fiction
Title: The Big White Lie
Words: 100
***
My fiancé and I hiked into the forest and up to the beautiful, dramatic waterfall scene.
She said, “Look how beautiful, Bill—proof that God exists.”
I took a deep breath. “Yes, Babe. It’s a wonderful gift of nature. No poem would be enough. Thanks for bringing me here.”
“Bill, I’m not sure about us marrying.”
“Why? Because I’m atheist? You want me to lie?”
She said, “Yes. Or at least don’t tell anyone. It’s embarrassing.”
I kissed her cheek. “I’ll think it over, Love.”
She looked puzzled. We left.
Her parents still think I’m a dad-burn heathen Yankee Catholic.
***
Look both ways as you decide what is most important and to whom.
Mind the gaps around the falls and in concerns of the heart.
Our Friday Fictioneers Mistress Rochelle has conjured up an inspirational prompt photo of her own, which sent my muse back to the beginning of it all. My story follows Rochelle’s picture.
Genre: Travel Fiction
Title: You Again?
Word Count: 100
***
I saw the snake, backed away, and warned Sarff.
“Is it poisonous?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
A feminine voice said, “I’m not poisonous.”
Sarff said, “A talking snake. How cool. What’s your name?”
“I’m Petra. You’ll be okay. Just watch your step.”
I said, “Snakes can’t talk. It’s a trick.”
“You’re such a skeptic, Ormr. Read the Bible,” said Sarff.
Petra said, “The pomegranates at the top of the hill are yummy this time of year.”
As we climbed up. Sarff said, “Thanks. I love pomegranates.”
I said, “It’s forbidden to eat the fruit here.” They laughed at me.
Look both ways when reading fact or fiction.
Mind the gaps for hidden serpents.
Taboo to Torched
Frightened by arrogant kens against freedom,
shocked by hubris karens of hyperbole,
flummoxed by fiddling fascist Boards,
saddened as lone librarians dodge discovery,
humbled by youth’s perseverance;
I ponder and cry, with my personal pride,
I stand wondering why, ready to satirize.
Look both ways as you war against the lunacy of banned books.
Mind the gaps and detest book burning and the dark side of religious fanaticism.
Many thanks to the wonderful Rochelle for herding us cats on Friday Fictioneers. We write micro-stories inspired by a new photo each week, provided by very creative and imaginative compatriots. Here is the photo and my story for this week.
Genre: Satirical Epistolary Fiction
Wordcount: 100
Dear Mr. Bill,
Back in 1969, you agreed to our soul safekeeping if you got lucky with one Fancy Fox.
Enclosed herewith please find your damned, odoriferous, devil-moth eaten, blackened, rotten soul.
Our Diabolical Board of Demons directed soul safekeeping be returned to original owners since repossession is inevitable.
Due to Texas PowerGrid uncertainties, the ravages of our dark virus experiment, and subsequent chip shortage, we are terminating soul safekeeping, forthwith.
Please store your stinking, grain alcohol-soaked spirit in a warm, damp, moldy place until we confirm by certification your final demise.
Insincerely,
Wormwood Chinaski,
Human Soul Safekeeping Division
Look both ways, keep smiling,
mind the gaps of the damned, and ride the soul train.
Our Literary Journey 