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Timothy the afka Fred™ destined to roam the wild

Freddie Parks


Last Updated: 7/6/2009

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Gender: Male
Status: Married
Age: 32
City: Walla Walla
State: Arkansas
Country: US
Signup Date: 7/5/2006

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July 7, 2009 - Tuesday 

Category: Writing and Poetry

See here for part 1---> Sun Spots: Part 1
Sun Spots: Fin

By: “T” the wanderer

 

 

 

 

William’s eyes snapped open with the old familiar searing in the back of his brain.  The dream was the same but somehow over the last few weeks it had become even more vivid…the pain…the pain was more intense but with a strange comforting after affect as if something was building to a finale.

 

He turned his head at the contented sigh that issued from the body that lay next to him.  She was still there….she was always there now…every since that day…..

 

The blood on the carpeting was dark and crusted but the aroma of death still hung heavy in the apartment.  They had beat the “adjuster” to death with blow after alternating blow finishing in a crescendo of fury that had left them both weak and gasping for breath…yet more satisfied than either of them had ever been before.  The two of them had collapsed next to the body and lay there for what seemed like eternity…just staring at one another. Only one thought echoed and repeated in his mind.

 

I’ll free her later…later is better

 

William had resigned himself to fate.  He knew they’d come for them.  When they came he would snap her neck quickly and free her, then he’d jump from the window to the concrete 5 stories below.

 

But something strange happened…

 

Nothing happened….

 

No one knocked on his door…

 

No one ordered them out of the apartment…

 

No one broke the door in and stormed the room…

 

Maybe it had been exactly as he was always told.  Could it be true? Was it conceivable that despite the cameras that scanned every inch of his apartment, that it was really true?  Yes…it had to be.  He was actually protected by the very thing that had created him.  No one was coming because no one was allowed to.  No one was allowed to disturb his activity as long as it was contained in these four walls.

 

William’s mind replayed the events that followed their murderous indulgence.  It had been the young woman who had suggested that they simply push the lifeless body through the window of the apartment.  The reasoning was simple.  If they were caught outside this room with the body they could be picked up by the “adjusters” but as long as they operated from behind the closed door of his apartment then it stood to reason that they would be safe from capture.

 

They had inadvertently stumbled on to the most colossal loop hole of all time and it more than amused them both.  For the next few days they spread their wings and explored the darkest of their sun spots as they lured one after another back to the apartment and “freed” each soul in the most unique and creative ways they could imagine.

 

William looked around the room to see the blood spatters and stains of men and women alike when he was startled by the alarm clock sounding.

 

He reached out and took the annoying electronic device in his hand and looked it over.  It was much lighter than his old one…the one that had been a tool of destruction in his companion’s hand.  He switched it off as he felt her stir next to him in the bed.  For the first time in his life he had use of an alarm clock.  A slight smile crossed his face as he sat it back down then stretched his arms high above his head.

 

I’ll free her later….later is better- William thought as he stood up

 

“Want some coffee” he asked her as he moved across to the kitchette.

 

“Yes please” she said as she sat up on the corner of the bed and rolled her head while rubbing the knots from her neck muscles.

 

William prepared the coffee as the young woman dressed.  He watched her move and lost himself in the poetry of her motion.  She was so different.  She had fluidity to her actions that seemed to be lost to all others.  He almost thought he might find her attractive.  A guttural and primal stirring traveled through his body almost in defiance of the programming his mind had been subjected to for so many years.  He wanted her.  He wanted to be closer to her than he had ever been to another human being…but the feeling was alien to him.  He didn’t know if there was even a way he could be closer.  The two had lain next to one another exhausted every night after their “work” but they had never so much as touched since he had kissed her to lure the first of their “subjects” to the apartment doors.

 

The young woman leaned past him and took a coffee cup from the pantry then held it out toward him as if to ask him to pour the hot black liquid into the container.  For a moment he froze…something inside felt even more bound...chained.  He felt like a bird in a cage falling from the top of the world.  He had thrown off the bonds of one world and exchanged them for a far heavier yoke than he imagined…her.

 

Yet…

 

He didn’t even know her name.

 

What did it matter anyway?  Her name could be Venus for all he knew or cared.  In her eyes was ..Valhalla.. and she was his thunder, his breath, his…..

 

“You know it works better if you tilt the pot” she said with a giggle that broke him from his thoughts.

 

“Oh…yes…I’m sorry” he stuttered as he poured the coffee.

 

“Its getting late you know” she followed “we’ll be late for work”

 

Those words rang in his ears.  He couldn’t contain the smile that exploded on his face.  She was right.  They were in danger of actually being late for something…for work…their work.  Great was their love for their work and they believe their work to be of great importance. 

 

Fear had gripped the community as bodies continued to be found on the pavement just below his window.  Everyone in the building knew why.  Everyone on the block knew why.  In fact it was getting to be difficult to find “work” for the last two days.  They had to begin to venture out further away from the apartment to find suitable “subjects”.  Nevertheless the numbed minds of the people never let them down…they always found someone willing to come with them.

 

The status quo had been shattered and it had been William who was responsible.

 

“I was thinking” the young woman said as William lost himself once again in his thoughts.

 

“Work has been…well it’s been a bit boring lately hasn’t it” she said softly with a sigh.

 

William understood what she meant.  In the beginning the thought of getting caught, the thought of something unpredictable happening had driven their blood lust to a frenzy.  Now it seemed that something was missing.

 

“What do you have in mind” he asked as he sat the coffee pot back in its place.

 

“Let’s do the building” she said with a wicked smile.

 

“What” he asked in surprise.

 

“Think about it.  We’ll start here on the fifth floor and work our way all the way down to the basement.  Then we’ll burn this filthy disgusting building to the ground” she said with an eagerness to her words that set him mind ablaze with imaginings.

 

For a moment he nearly agreed with her but no…no, if they ventured away from the sanctity of these walls with their work, then surely they would come for them.

 

“It’ll never work.  We’ll never get them to come here.  They all know what we do in here.  They’ll never agree to come and I’m not strong enough to drag them all up five flights of stairs” William dismissed as he turned his attention to his own coffee cup.

 

The young woman’s lip protruded and she plopped down in a chair.

 

“You’re getting to be like the others you know” she said with a pout

 

Put a sock in it will ya” he snapped back at her.

 

“Oh you’d like that wouldn’t you” she said with a mischievous smile that made him very uncomfortable.

 

“I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to snap at you” he said quickly as he began to pace.

 

“It’s just…I’m not sure we can do this…I mean maybe two…three max but there are 52 people living in this building and I’m just not…” he tried to reason.

 

The young woman stood up and crossed to him; pressing herself against him. 

 

“We can do it” she paused and looked deep in his eyes “together”.

 

She’ll free you later…later is better- a voice that seemed like his own whispered in his mind.

 

“Ok” he finally answered after a few moments of silence.

 

The young woman squealed with excitement and jumped into his arms causing him to fling his coffee cup to the side and breaking it against the floor.  She kissed him and bit hard on his bottom lip bringing blood.

 

William didn’t care.  William felt alive.  William felt dead.  William felt….

 

The young woman pulled back and began hoping around the room as if she were a child about to receive a much anticipated birthday gift.  William watched with awe as she turn and twirled about the room.  Outside these doors people were doing the same things they always did.  They were walking the same routes, wearing the same cloths, eating the same foods and talking about the same subjects. Each of them dictated how to think, how to feel, how to live, how to die.  The whole of the world seemed like a large game board with rules that never seemed to make sense.  There was a starting point true enough…that was birth.  Then there was an ending…yes…that was death.  In between there were set squares for you to move to.  Never more than a few at a time.  Never backwards or diagonal.  Always forward to the next square.  Always you would move your token shoe, thimble or iron to the next block and wait for something new to happen…but it wouldn’t so you’d roll again, move again, wait again.

 

But William had changed the rules.  Yes…he had added a bloodied alarm clock to the board.  He had invaded the space on the board occupied by others and tossed them from the board like a child in a tantrum.

 

They would do the whole building…they would do it because it had to be done.  He would burn down the entire world just to touch her one more time…just to feel something besides his own insides twisting and churning within.

 

William closed his eyes and stared into the white hot sun that was burned in his mind.  There the black spots danced and chased one another like the young woman parading through his room.  Suddenly William was aware that there was very little light any longer.  The spots had won out.  The spots covered the face of the orb allowing darkness to replace the light…the heat of the sun rays.

 

It was over, the fight was finished.  He had won…or maybe he had lost.  He didn’t know which was the answer.  He didn’t feel remorse for the blood on his hands but he had never felt anything before.  It was possible, he mused that he had been doing evil rather than good. 

 

He…

 

Had he become worse than that he had hated?

 

William pushed the thought away.  He refused to allow morality to bother him now…not now when he was so close to her…so close to having something that the government didn’t give him, something he wasn’t entitled too but took by his own hand by his own desire.

 

After all it was their fault wasn’t it.  Wasn’t it the fault of the society he lived in that he couldn’t be satisfied, that he couldn’t be challenged.  If only he had of had choice in his life instead of having a shadow of provision handed to him every day.  If only he had been allowed to work and feel the accomplishment of bringing food from the land or seeing a building rise from his imagination, or…or…having a wife…not because he was told to breed but because he loved and in return was loved.

 

When this building blazed in the night the world would see that here in this little city in Eurasia all is not well…all is not simple and blissful…to the devil with the with Eurasia or Eastasia or Oceania or whom ever the powers that be would choose for them to be this week…to the devil with rations and provisions and “adjusters” and symmetry and conformity and equality and any of the things that made up the eking slithering life he was provided through an unwilling mother and a cloned father. 

 

William looked up at her as she continued to dance.

 

I’ll free her later…if there be a later- he thought as he crossed the room quickly and took her in his arms.

 

The two of them fell upon the bed.  He felt her underneath him as the stirring from earlier rose up again; tightening in his chest.

 

“Not now dear…later…later is better” she whispered in his ear as she pushed him away.

 

“Let’s get to work” she finished as they stood to their feet.

 

“Yes, let’s do that” he said “I know where to start”

 

The two of them left the apartment and headed out to the park where they had first met.  For six hours they sat on the park bench saying nothing to one another.  Both of them seemed to vibrate and hum with anticipation.  They knew that everyone would be returning soon…very soon then they’d light up the night with a blaze ignited by the spots on the sun.

 

When the time had come they walked casually back to the apartment and directly to Mrs. Higgins’ room.  Together they knocked on the door and waited patiently for the answer. 

 

The door opened slightly…

 

William forced the door with all his might and threw Mrs. Higgins to the floor from the impact.

 

He looked down at her ample frame and admired her.  She was quite lovely in her own way.  The young woman closed the door behind them and they set about their work.

 

Time was not a luxury for them in someone else’s apartment they knew… so they worked quickly by raining down heavy heals upon the woman.  When they were satisfied they moved to the next door. 

 

William began to see the flaw in their plan as doors refused to open to them and his strength was giving out.  Finally they decided it was time to set the blaze.  The fire would do the “work” for them.  The two of them ran down to the basement and gathered every scrap they could find that would burn.  Some kerosene used as a cleaner provided the accelerant they needed to start the fire to blaze.

 

As the smoke filled the enclosed room William felt dizzy.  Thick black air filled his lungs and he coughed uncontrollably.  His eyes fixed on the flames.  The heat from them burned at his retinas but he couldn’t blink.  He simply fell to his knees and stared at the fire. 

 

The yellow light danced and leaped as dark spots chased one another through the ballet of destruction.

 

William raised his hand for her.  He felt her hand in his and an embraced but he couldn’t see. 

 

“Close your eyes” her voice whispers

 

“I can’t” he replied

 

“Close your eyes” she exerted.

 

William felt his eyes close but the fire still blazed in his minds eye

 

She will free me laterlater is better -he thought to himself

 

A searing pain hit the back of his brain and he tumbled forward face first into the flame.  The young woman stood behind him with a crow bar she had found in the corner of the basement.

 

“Drop it” a voice shouted from behind her.

 

The young woman turned and lunged; screaming a terrible blood curdling shriek.

 

-bang, bang, bang-

 

Three shots ended the sound.  Adjusters filled the basement with white foam from fire extinguishers to contain the blaze which was on the verge of breaking loose to bite and gnaw at the structure of the building.

 

William felt himself evaporating into the spots on the sun.  He felt the heat building more and more intensely.  He felt darkness snap and rip at his soul.  He felt chains with unmanageable weight strap his body.  He tried to scream but no sound came.

 

As William’s heart stopped beating he realized he had only traded yokes…one for another…all his life and now in death.  He was born to bondage not of his choosing so he traded it for one of his own design…he traded it the lust of his sickness…his dark spots…but in so doing he had received another yoke…one he could never throw off or trade.

 

I’ll free you later- a horrible metallic voice whispered

 

After all…later is better- the voice finished with a sinister laugh

 

William’s senses exploded in fear and grief for he knew later would never come….

 

Fin

 

© 2009

July 7, 2009 - Tuesday 

Category: Writing and Poetry
Preface: Welcome to William's world.  Its a world were everone is the same.  Its a world of the unextrordinary.  No one works.  Everything is provided...what little there is to have that is.  No one is challenged.  No one is offended because everyone is equal to the highest degree of control possible.

William is bord, William's heart is full of the darkness of sun spots.  This is his story....

Sun Spots: Part I

 A short fiction

By: “T” the wanderer

 

 

 

Tears rolled down William's face uncontrollably.  The searing heat and light of the sun's rays devoured his sight as his pupils fought desperately to dilate enough to attempt to salvage his already damaged vision. 

 

Every muscle in his body twitched.  His mind’s subconsciousness sent messages to his eye lids to close, to his neck to turn, to his hand to cover his face.  Still he sat unblinking and staring into the sun.  Spots appeared on the surface of the yellow orb.  In them William felt this soul begin to slip.

 

He felt his body turn to mist and rise above the earth as if he had evaporated like water from a puddle.  William face contorted as the light enveloped the last of his sight.  Only the spots remained.  Only the stains could be seen now; stains of black on the bright yellow sun.

 

William wasn’t sure which had his attention now.  Was it the light and warmth of the sun or the deep black stains of the spots that now danced and twirled in his mind’s eye?  Either way it was an image now literally burned into his mind. 

 

Cleansing? Freedom?

 

No…just an impossible, impractical, means of forgetfulness.

 

He was numb from the neck up. Everything he had tried had failed.  It was as if life were hour glass sands that he desperately clung to even as grain after blessed grain slipped and fell away.  Everything he put his hands to fell apart like wet toilet paper.  Each person, each place that his presence touched was filled with his absence as quickly as the hole in a pond is filled with the removing of a single drop.

 

Williams’s heart sang spoken words without melody.  Just another testament to his awkward life:

 

To the spots on the sun

Eagerly I run

Twisting and flailing

Desperately this sinking ship bailing

 

All life changing

All vision rearranging

Sickness of mind

Who weeps for my kind?

 

Give in to the madness?

Let go of the sadness?

Eat the bitter gall?

Or, just run from it all?

 

No longer my choice

William has lost his voice

 

Unconsciously his hand rose to someone who was not there.  Reaching out as if to ask an unseen partner for her hand.

 

Dance with me” he whispered through the pain in his soul.

 

William could almost feel her hand. It had to be her, the hand of his imaginary only friend…his fantasy mate reaching out to him.  He felt her body press against his in embrace.

 

“Close your eyes my love” she whispered so clear and so calm.

 

“I can’t” he replied through tears of anguish.

 

Darkness washed his face and covered his eyes as if the sun its self had decided to take mercy on the young man.

 

“Is it done” he whispered, “am I free?”

 

William felt arms around him.

 

“Close your eyes William” her voice came stronger and with more authority.

 

William’s eyes slowly closed.  Searing pain struck the back of his brain as though burned by an inferno.

 

William opened his eyes to stare up at the ceiling in his room.  The alarm clock blinking as it always did.  He never set the time.  He never bothered.  What was the point?  He had nowhere to go.  There was no one to miss him if he was late.  No one to seek him out.

 

William was the last man on earth.  At least this was how he felt.  Each day he awoke from the same dream.  Each morning he opened his eyes expecting them to be burned from his head.  Each morning the searing headache awaited him.  Each morning she was gone.

 

Of course... she was never there to begin with.  How could she be? She was only a figment of his imagination; a manifestation of something either desired or feared… maybe both.

 

William sat up slowly and put his feet on the floor.  It was stifling hot in the little one room apartment.  The heating and air in apartment 223 just down the hall from William had been dysfunctional for the last three weeks so of course the entire block was required to do without…after all no one was privilege or had right to privilege.  Everyone was equal and everyone liked it that way…at least that was what he had been told.

 

He guessed he believed it well enough though he couldn’t understand how it was that one of the other neighbors couldn't have just taken in the old gentleman that lived in apartment 223.  It made since to him to open his own doors to the man, especially if it meant the block could return to some semi cool air of the buildings climate control system…but that had been forbidden.  William had been told that such a burden placed on one soul would be unfair to others.

 

“Nonsense” he whispered to himself.

 

It wouldn’t have been a burden at all to have Mr. Jennings as a house guest.  William longed for someone to talk to.  He longed for something outside his mundane life.

 

William slowly stood up and crossed the room.  He fancied pretending he had somewhere to be.  It was almost exhilarating to imagine he had over slept and would be late for work…

 

Work…

 

He had forgotten the concept.  Most everyone had. 

 

William stepped out into the hallway in only his grey boxer shorts.  For a moment he thought about walking down the hall, down the steps and through the door.  He wondered how far he would make it before he was “detained” by the “adjusters” in the building.

 

He took a deep breath and closed the door.  A wry smile crossed his lips as he pulled down his boxers and began sprinting around his room then upon the bed.  He jumped up and down… up and down…over and over…over and over until he fell backwards in a heap.  Laughter filled his room.

 

At least he had this.  Inside his room he could do nearly anything he wanted even while the cameras watched…and the cameras DID watch.  What they were looking for he could only imagine.  Maybe they were looking for signs of disparity.  Certainly they could find it easy enough by watching the apartments day and night.  The woman down the hall for instance had the largest bottom he’d ever seen.  Hysterical laughter erupted from his throat as he though of Mrs. Higgins doing just as he had just done; running naked through the apartment and jumping on the bed like a child left alone to his or her own devices.

 

Then again maybe they just liked to watch.

 

Either way there was always a fear of those cameras once you stepped across the threshold of your own little cell.  Inside the cell it was one thing but outside…that was a matter for the “adjusters” to take up.

 

The adjusters were always watching, always waiting like spiders in a web.  Most of them were automated now but some of them were still flesh and blood…some might even say human but William wasn’t sure that terminology would apply.  The fleshly “adjusters” were clones.  Each of them looked the same, walked the same, smelled the same…they were what humanity had chosen to be the next great thing…a forced evolution.

 

In the year 2100 all the women of breeding age had been require by law to spend three months at the Compound for Human Advancement or as most people referred to it, “the FunHouse”.  No one outwardly spoke of the things that went on at the fun house but it was common knowledge that the women and girls were impregnated by clones and offspring of clones for years. 

 

William stood up and crossed the room again, this time standing in front of the mirror. He looked his face over.  He wasn’t much different from any other male he’d ever known.  His nose, his eyes, his lips all within a certain geometric tolerance.  His eyes were blue but not deep blue, neither were they a pale blue…they were simply blue.  His hair was brown…but again, not remarkable in anyway…it was the same color as all other males.

 

He guessed that the FunHouse had been at least somewhat successful…at least from the perspective of appearances.  William’s mind once again turned to the big bottomed woman down the hall.  It was unclear as to why the female’s continued to have a bit more diversity to their body structures.  Still it didn’t seem to matter too much to him.  Nothing mattered. 

 

Nothing in the world was remarkable so why would anything matter.  The few differences even in the woman he saw seemed without any real allure.  One was skinny one was fat in the end they couldn’t exhibit any extraordinary talents any more than anyone else.  They still had to dress the same, they still had to walk the same, act the same…smell the same….

 

“ahhhh” William growled then set about dressing himself.

 

No job, no friends, no place to be, nothing to do and no one to do it with.  Each citizen however was required by law to spend six hours away from his or her apartment every day between the hours of ..6 am.. and ..12 pm...  During that time they were expected to walk.  The powers that be seemed to think it was dangerous for people to sit idle for too long despite the lack of purpose or maybe because of their lack of purpose. 

 

William stepped out of his room and into the hall.  As he did he bumped into Mrs. Higgins.  As her body touched his, a strange feeling overtook him.  Before he realized what he was doing he reached out and took a great handful of her bottom.  The woman jumped in shock and fear then ran away from him as quickly as her legs would take her.  William froze.  He looked around for the “adjusters” to swoop in on him. 

 

Silence

 

Still

 

He looked at his hand.  This was something extraordinary for him. Something different.  Something new.  He was exhilarated.

 

The darkness in his mind began to stir.  Sun spots danced before his eyes. Slowly he began to move his legs walking without thinking...

 

As he walked the streets a plan formed in his twisted and unchallenged mind.  He was careful not to smile however...despite the bliss he was feeling.  He was careful to keep the expressionless look that embossed the faces of everyone he passed on the street. Better not to draw attention...at least not just yet.

 

The intricacies of his plan unfolded in glorious depravity.  The sights, the sounds, the smells…all of it sent waves of ecstasy through his body.  His eyes darted back and forth in his head but he kept his neck still. 

 

Should it be him…

 

How about her…

 

The young one…

 

The old one…

 

Did it matter?  Wouldn’t there be many more?

 

Maybe…maybe not…there were so many to choose from…

 

But the honor of being first must be decided carefully.

 

At first he thought Mrs. Higgins was the only true choice but then he began to fear the proximity…Wouldn’t Mr. Higgins notice his wife was missing?

 

No he’d have to wait for her…maybe forever…

 

Still it was she who had inspired him…it was the feel of her diversity in his hands that had given him the idea…so she would always hold a place of honor in his mind.  Maybe someday he’d have the courage to free her but not now...not today.

 

Then he saw the one, the only one.  She was sitting alone on a park bench.  She was so different from others.  She wasn’t walking.  She wasn’t expressionless.  No…she was beautiful.  She was  as plain as white wallpaper but she was as different as the sun spots that danced in his mind.  She was his darkness.  The tears on her face solidified it.

 

William approached slowly and sat next to her.

 

“Are you married” he asked abruptly.

 

“Would it matter” she said as tears still flowed down her face.

 

“It might” he answered.

 

“No” she replied

 

“Why are you crying” he asked coldly.

 

“It didn’t matter to him” she said as she pointed at a clone adjuster that walked by eyeing them closely.

 

For a moment he felt something in the pit of his stomach.  Maybe it was compassion…but the emotion was so foreign to him that he couldn’t say for sure.

 

“If you help me I’ll help you” he whispered.

 

The woman looked at him with strange eyes.  Something inside of her seemed to understand him.

 

“I can make it better.  I can free you.  I know how” William said as he stood up and extended his hand.

 

The woman took his hand.  William felt electricity race through is body.  It was so intense he almost forgot what he had planed.  In that moment the plan changed.

 

“Let’s get him to follow” he whispered.

 

I can free her later…later is better than sooner.  She should have the benefit of feeling first.  She should be able to evaporate into her own sun spot. - he thought to himself

 

“I love you” William whispered as she stood up next to him.

 

“I hate you” she whispered back.

 

“I hate you” he replied

 

“I love you” she finished

 

The two stared into one another’s eyes for a long moment.  It was as if they spoke without speaking. Love and hate...before now meant nothing to William, now they were everything...all things...yet one in the same.

 

-I’ll free her later- he thought to himself once again.

 

The two began to walk with deliberately odd strides back toward William’s apartment.  The “adjuster” that she had pointed to followed closely.  Once at the apartment William pulled her close and kissed her deeply. 

 

The adjuster bolted toward them but the two sprinted away before he could close the distance.  At the apartment door the adjuster made it through just as it closed behind him.  He held a long billy club in front of him and wore a devious smile.

 

“In accordance with section 4 of behavioral code 9 the pair of you are hereby placed under detention for re-educational assignments” He said as he pointed his club at one then the other.

 

-click-

 

William locked the door.

 

The clones face changed.  William had never seen that look before.  It was filled with something he’d never known…fear…

 

The adjuster leapt for the door but William swung a heavy hand into the side of the man’s head taking him off guard and off balance.  The young woman took the alarm clock that was still blinking ..12:00 am.. and rained down blow after blow into the man’s head as he fell to the ground.

 

William took the billy club and alternated blows.

 

Clock

 

Club

 

Clock

 

Club

 

The sights

 

The sounds

 

The smells

 

Over and over the two of them indulged in their sun spots….

 

 © 2009

To be continued in part two
June 9, 2009 - Tuesday 

Category: News and Politics

 

Update 2: http://blackhillsportal.com/npps/story.cfm?id=3085



There I was minding my own business on my way to work when I happened to glance across the interstate.  There on a flat bed trailer was the head and torso portions of a huge statue.

I don't have a camera phone but sure wished I had of had one because you are probably not going to believe what I saw.  I hope it's there on the way home cause if it is I'm going to get some pictures to prove this.  If not keep you eyes open for it because nothing like this will fly under the radar for too long.

Care to guess whose graven image it was?

Update:

some of you guessed correctly, it was none other than his excellency Barack Hussein Obama
June 9, 2009 - Tuesday 

Category: Life
A Look inside a Musing Mind
 
By: "Timothy" Fred Parks
 
 
The last few days I've been taking a trip down memory lane.  For me that means music.  Music has always been a big part of my life.  I had written about seven paragraphs that rambled on about all the evolution of my musical repertoire (from Patsy Cline, to Led Zeppelin, to Bon Jovi, to Pearl Jam, to Disturbed, to Insane Clown Posse, to Elvis, to Eminem, to Third Day and everything in between).  Then I realized I was completely off the subject of what was on my mind so I just hit the old delete button and it went floating down the information super sewer.
 
Anyway before I start rambling yet again and have to start this whole process over one more time let me share a song with you:
 
..
 
Pearl Jam was always one of my favorite bands.  Veder is a poet if nothing else.  As I was reviewing old music I began to really think about some of these songs I used to listen to.  I realized a little something about the spirituality of the music. 
 
I began to think about how people look inside themselves for answers they can't put a tangible finger on.  What results can be a mish mash of spiritual concepts that ends in humanism.
 
..
 
My heart really began to ache for some of these artists who have poured out of themselves into these songs. I remembered my own struggles.  I remembered how hard it was for me to understand the things that my mind fought know.  I just wanted to be better; I wanted to be something nobler than this piece of flawed flesh.  I wanted to be given to fly:
 
(Please excuse the curse word in this song)
..
 
I looked at my life and realized I had lost a lot of time; I had squandered a lot of potential.  I had become a nothing man:
 
..
 
So in my restlessness I was off again:
 
..
 
In the end I found no peace.  I found no real answers.
 
Why?
 
Because, humanism can't bring peace.  Humanism can't save.  Mysticism comes in as a replacement for faith.
 
We look at these things and a part of us can truly understand and a part of it seems so right but then again that's how it always is.  This is how the lie becomes the truth in the minds of men; by adapting little pieces of the truth.
 
The truth is, there is so much more between birth and death.  There is an element of human cooperation with the creator.  We do have choices to make and those choices do have consequences.
 
No matter how well meaning we set out to be, we will mess it up because in the end we seek our own.  We speak of love. Love is the most noble of all our emotions, and knowledge but it is corrupted and twisted to be unrecognizable.
 
1st Corinthians 13
 
4 Love suffereth long, and is kind; love envieth not; love vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up,
   5 doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not its own, is not provoked, taketh not account of evil;
   6 rejoiceth not in unrighteousness, but rejoiceth with the truth;
   7 beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.
   8 Love never faileth

Where in this does it say that love is selfish and wants only what it chooses?  Where in this does it say that love is means patting evil things on the back for the sake of compromise, where in this does it say love gives up? 

Yet our humanistic idea of love does just that.  I’m not saying its done out of premeditation, its just the nature of mankind to distort what we don’t understand.
The songs above touch me with that understanding.  The world seeks but refuses the answers. 

The mind of men is a many splendored thing.  It is fertile and creative.  Fit for the growth of idea, of art, of compassion, of love….but it is also a garden of deceit, lust, and profanity; which is why we must be ever diligent in what seeds are planted.

John said that we must test the spirits.  There is a counter fit spirituality in life and it looks so very similar to the real deal.  Liberality for example is a counter fit form of compassion with deep roots in all I’ve just discussed.  In the end it fails which is proof that it does not come from love because as the scripture says “love never faileth”.

Truth is not subjective.  If it were it would be susceptible to alteration.  Truth unlike horseshoes and hand grenades can not be close enough. 

The things sought after in these songs are real and are available but only through Christ Jesus.  The restless soul can obtain peace, the salvation of the one truly given to fly has been prepared, the sacrifice did live on….. Christ is the peddle brake that we depend upon.
 
God bless you and keep you
 
© 2009
June 4, 2009 - Thursday 

Category: News and Politics
Dr. George Tiller
By: “Timothy” Fred Parks
 
 
 
Today I received an email asking if I would write something concerning the recent death of Dr. George Tiller.  This is a subject in which emotions run high on all sides.  It is nearly impossible to come at this without generating some form of controversy.  No doubt there have already been numerous blogs written on the subject with enormous amounts of passion and opinion, if not objectivity.  What I have to say about this may not be taken any better by any side of this discussion.  Nevertheless I believe this to be a subject that each of us should be very careful to examine our conviction in Christ and be very prayerful.
 
Before I present what I’d like to offer on the life and death of this man I feel it only right that I offer a prayer to his family.  Regardless of what we feel about the man and his behavior we should not forget he did have a wife, children, and grand children who love him.  For this family this has been a very difficult and tragic thing and we should not forget that.
 
Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ I came and humbly ask for a touch of the Holy Spirit in the lives of this man’s family.  Father I ask that you reveal yourself in a very personal way to each individual member of that family, that they might find peace and understanding in Your arms.  May Your will be done in this family’s life.  Amen.
 
As we have offered prayer for George Tiller’s family I too feel it only right to offer a prayer for the family of the man suspected of killing Dr. Tiller.  His family also has hard road ahead of them.
 
Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ I come and humbly ask for a touch of the Holy Spirit in the lives of this man’s family as well.  Father I ask that you touch them with peace and understand that they may have strength in this difficult time.  May Your will be done in this family’s life. Amen.
 
********
 
Was it right or wrong for someone to shoot and kill Dr. George Tiller?
 
This question is full of emotion and full of speculation that will rage on long after the trial of the person or persons involved.  It will rage on long after a conviction or acquittal.  It will rage on because this is a question of morality.  It is the age old question of right and wrong, righteousness and evil, justice and injustice. 
 
The confusion of our society concerning our moral compass is directly at the root of this argument.  Further more I believe it is the conflicting position of what people deem right and wrong and their own private interpretation of that morality that directly led to the shooting death of Dr. George Tiller. 
 
This has become a country of wishy washy morality.  It has become a country of impatient, immature, irresponsible and selfish people who generate their own since of righteousness based solely on personal desire. 
 
This may sound harsh but there simply is no other way to put it.  I think the Dr. Tiller discussion is a prime example of this reality.  Dr. Tiller was a man that under any other circumstances would be considered a murderer.  He operated one of only three late term abortion clinics in our country.  This means he performed abortions after what science considers viability (post 21 weeks).  Yet because we as the American people have allowed this to be acceptable and legal in our country he was able to perform these procedures under the protection of the law.
 
To those who cherish the precious and helpless lives of children in the womb these things are worse than repugnant, worst than abomination.  They break our hearts and give us pause to just how debaucherous our society has become. 
 
But the other side of this coin is those who see nothing morally wrong with the killing of viable lives.  I’m not going to delve into all the moral objections these people have to my pro-life stand or my objections to their rationality.  You’ve heard all the argument for and against abortion a hundred times or more.  Suffice it to say there is a large segment of our society that sees abortion as completely acceptable and have many reasons for their justification.
 
Many people today are decrying the death of Dr. Tiller and even herald him as some sort of medical hero of sorts.  These same people are looking for justice for Dr. Tiller.  They want his murderer arrested and prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.  After all, the man is a murderer..right? He destroyed a life and our society will not stand for such a thing.
 
Can you see the confusion in this?  Can you see that those who feel it’s perfectly acceptable to destroy a helpless human life through abortion are the same ones who are now screaming for justice?
 
Now let’s look at the flip side of this.  There are people celebrating the death of Dr. Tiller.  These people are the people who fought long and hard against the things the man was doing.  These people saw Dr. Tiller as a murderer.  To these people the death of this man was justice served rather than a murder.
 
Can you see some amount of confusion in this?  Can you see that those who fight for life have been put in the position to celebrate death?
 
The truth of the matter is this whole thing is senseless and avoidable.  The death of this man, the death of thousands of unborn at his hand all complete unnecessary.  If our society would have not stood for the legalization of abortion to begin with this whole sequence of events would have been avoided.  We gave place to the devil and he took full advantage of it and will continue to.
 
It’s hilarious to me in some ways to see people who are abortion supporters running around pointing fingers and saying “thou shalt not kill”.
 
I have a question I’d like you to ask yourself.  It’s a question that’s been debated for decades.
 
If you found yourself in Germany sitting in a little pub next to Adolph Hitler a year or so before he would assume control of the country and you had a gun in your hand, would you kill him?  Would you pull the trigger and take one life so as to be able to save over 56 million soldiers and civilians and 6 million Jews?  Would you kill one to spare 62 million + lives?
 
Can you see how someone may see the death of Dr. Tiller in the same regard?  Can you see that what those who see Tiller’s death as a positive are really seeing the saved lives rather than the loss of one?
 
Some might say in opposition that the work will not stop but only be slowed.  Dr. Tiller’s clinic will probably still operate and if it doesn’t most likely another will be started.  This again brings me back to the root cause, our lack of outrage concerning the act of abortion to begin with.
 
Regardless of what we all might think about this maybe we should think about what God feels about these things.
 
Let’s ask a few questions and see if we can find some answers:
 
How does God feel about murder?
How does God feel about the unborn?
Are there any Biblical examples of killing a few to protect many?
How does God feel about personal responsibility
How does God feel about submitting to the laws man uses to govern?
 
1. How does God feel about murder?
 
Even those who do not study the bible have heard “thou shalt not kill” many hundreds of times over the course of their lives.  Let’s look at this commandment a little closer.
 
The word for kill in this context is the word ratsach which refers to murder.  The verse could be translated “though shalt not commit murder”.  Murder is defined as the unlawful, often times malicious taking of human life.
 
Many people have used this verse to argue things such as capital punishment and war but it is very clear from the context of the commandment that the intent was not associated with the either of these two arguments.  In fact the punishment for murder was death.  If this commandment had dealt with killing in the general context that many people present it, then by very definition the punishment would violate the law.
 
In fact because of this law and punishment God even had Moses appoint six cities that could be used as a place of sanctuary against the avenger of blood in cases of accidental death.  In these cases those who killed by accident could flee to these cities and be safe from the avenger of blood who was the closest relative to the person killed, while an investigation was undertaken.  If the person was found guilty of murder then that person was not spared anywhere.
 
So we can see clearly that the verse “thou shalt not kill” instead refers to the willful taking of innocent blood.
 
2. How does God feel about the unborn?
 
God told Jeremiah that he knew him even before He formed him in the belly of his mother.  Isaiah, in a prophecy, acknowledged that God formed him in his mother’s womb with the purpose of being a servant of God. 
 
These acknowledgements tell us that it is God that forms the child, for His purpose.  We as human being may do what we do out of our own fleshly desires and lusts but God can bring beauty from pain.  He can take our mangled mess and turn it into something extraordinary and glorious.  We make our own choices and for each action there is a consequence. 
 
The vast majority of woman having abortions are not having them because of medical conditions, but rather for convenience.  Many will argue that these women are not mature, or other wise prepared in some way to have a child.  I would contend that if you are not mature enough or other wise prepared to have a child then you are not mature enough to be having sex to begin with.  If two people are not committed enough and have not made the decision to live the rest of their lives together, what business do they have in having sex?  This isn’t a case of me shoving my morality on someone; this is a matter of common sense and personal responsibility.
 
God loves the child in the womb.  In Exodus there is even a law concerning the accidental death of a child in the womb that allows for the husband of the woman to take the ones responsible before the judges and the proper punishment exacted.  The following verses are often quoted as it lays out the guide lines for punishments “eye for eye”.
 
Many have contested that there is no exact law against abortion in the bible but let me tell you this; the idea of abortion in the time of bible was completely foreign.  Off spring was cherished and prized in ways our society has no clue about.  Children were the continuation of life and of the blood line and were more important than anything. 
 
Does anyone remember the verse concerning Judah’s son spilling his seed on the ground instead of having a child with his deceased brother’s wife because it would be considered his brother lineage instead of his own?  Do you think God takes reproduction lightly?  If you do go back and read Genesis chapter 38 and you may understand better what I’m saying but this is another topic for another day.
 
3. Are there any Biblical accounts of killing a few to protect many?
 
Yes, let me deal with one in particular.  It is found in the book of Numbers.  A few men in Israel had taken some Midianitish women into their tents.  Basically they were having sex with these women who were teaching them to worship Baalpeor.  I’ve taught on Baalpeor before so I won’t spend much time on this but suffice it to say the worship of this idol was completely repugnant to God.  Because of their licentiousness a plague spread through the Israelites and killed some 24,000 people.
 
When Eleazer discerned the cause of the plague he rose up and killed the man and the woman who had brought the plague into the camp of Israel.  The death saved countless others from the plague.  The death of two spared thousands if not hundred of thousands.
 
4. How does God feel about personal responsibility
 
Have you ever heard of generational curses?  This refers to something God spoke to the people of Israel concerning the sins of the father following even the second and third generations.  If you don’t understand this principal take a look at our society right now.  How many times has someone been caught abusing a child and the defense has been that it was a behavior picked up because they were abused themselves?  How many times has a rapist or murder blamed their behavior on a traumatic childhood under a parent or some other close person who molested, beat, or other wise abused them.  We even say alcoholism is hereditary now don’t we.  So it’s clearly seen that the things we do can and do follow our children at times.
 
But I have a very strong conviction that we use this as an excuse because God later told Israel to quite blaming generational curses for their poor behavior.  In fact it’s in two places Ezekiel and Isaiah and it says almost the exact same thing.  The gist of it is this. If you see your father lives a certain way and you follow him then you’ll suffer the same problems but if you choose to break that chain then you will not have to receive the same punishments you’ll be free of it.
 
We each have a choice.  The things our family before us has done do not have to be the same things that we do.  We can choose a different life.  Therefore God has shown us that He takes personal responsibility very seriously.
 
We as a society have removed this teaching from our children and as a result we have opened wide the doors to compromise biblical morality and replace it with ever shifting and false sense of self righteousness.
 
It is this lack of personal responsibility that has allowed abortion to be accepted and as a result the spawning of people like Dr. Tiller.  Its all cause and effect. 
 
Make abortion legal…redefine life to expand abortion…expand the scope of abortion giving more occasions for individual to perform them…more doctors accept it…doctors begin to make a name for themselves in a controversial field…people are outraged…opposition ensues…law makers ignore the voice of the people…frustration builds…
 
All this begins in murder and ends in murder.  How can we possibly be surprise?
 
5. How does God feel about submitting to the laws man uses to govern?
 
In the New Testament there are many verses concerning submitting to the authority over us.  We have laws to protect and to serve the public interest. 
 
1st Peter 2:13 Submit yourselves to every ordinance of man for the Lord's sake: whether it be to the king, as supreme;
 
Not all of these laws will we agree with.  In our country we have the unique ability to speak out concerning these things and to take action to change them through those we elect to represent us and through other peaceful means.
 
Unfortunately right now in our country we have some very backwards priorities.  Those in the most need of protection are those with no voice; our unborn.  This has to change.  For it to change people have to stop being so afraid of offending people and stand up for their convictions.
 
The liberal elements of this country have done a great job of vilifying opposition and this has manufactured silence.  Because of this we end up with what we see with the death of Dr. Tiller.  People come to the point where they believe nothing will be done and thus they take it in their own hands to try and stop the injustice they see.
 
With this said, if the person who killed Dr. Tiller is caught and it can be proven that they did in fact commit murder then they will have a moral obligation to be held to the ordinance of man.  In short he’s going to have to accept the consequences of his actions.
 
What has happened is a tragedy for every life involved.  Dr. Tiller’s family have suffered the loss of a loved one.  The family of the person who pulled the trigger will suffer the loss of their family member from being an active part of their life for many years if convicted.  Another doctor will resume the work Dr. Tiller left behind.  In the end, no one has gained anything in this and in fact, in many ways much was lost.
 
Those of us who believe abortion is evil have more tarnish to our stand point.  The media never speaks of peaceful demonstration and opposition but they sensationalize anything that can make our conviction seem radical and dangerous.
 
Many of my friends celebrate Dr. Tiller’s death.  I can say I understand that point of view.  I can see that in their hearts his end means saving others.  I can see that it is highly likely that his death was a direct result of his lifestyle.  Because he was an usher at his church some have implied that he was a Christian man of faith.  I can not attest to that.  I didn’t know the man.  The only fruit from his life that I was ever shown was that I feel is morally and biblically wrong.  But for those who do believe he was a saved man let me remind you that God still does judge the behavior of those who are his.  Paul wrote that it is better that the flesh is destroyed that the soul might be saved.  Understand this, if he was saved…it is highly likely his death was for his own benefit.
 
I will not sit in judgment of those who feel his death was justified.  I will not sit in judgment of those who feel his death is a victory.  I understand the frustration.  I understand the need for justice that gives the feeling of relief at the death of this man.
 
Nevertheless my personal feelings on it is that I would have preferred a different conclusion.  I would have preferred to see his clinic shut down peacefully as the people come together and put an end to the irresponsible, senseless and selfish act of abortion.  I would have preferred to see the man repent and ask forgiveness for these acts.
 
If we ever want to see a change it’s going to have to begin now.  Otherwise this will continue to happen.  Doctors will continue to perform abortions and others will take justice in their own hands as a result.
 
Personally I believe that abortion is another case of man not trusting God.  I have a family member who the doctors tried to force to have an abortion because of her health.  She refused and has a beautiful child now.  So even the medical justification behind this act seems wrong to me. If we were more responsible as a people the whole abortion debate would be moot by now in my estimation.


I pray for an end to abortion.  I pray for a revelation for our country.  I pray that the people of God will come together and be the example we are called to be that things might change.
 
The answer to whether or not it was right to kill Dr. Tiller rests with God.  Our laws will be followed and the person responsible will have to submit to it. 
 
Justice was, and will be served.
 
God bless
 
© 2009
June 2, 2009 - Tuesday 

Category: Writing and Poetry
Love Lost, Never Forgotten
by: "Timothy" Fred Parks
 
 
 
Rain pelted the window and startling Celeste. She had been engrossed while looking through the old steamer trunk she had found in her great grandmothers room. At first she had been very apprehensive about the task. She had never really known her great grandmother and felt that someone closer to her should be handling these details. Nevertheless once she had begun going through the personal things she had become very intrigued.

A thunder clap echoed through the house and the room darkened. The weather had been horrible since she landed in London. She had always heard about the weather in England but sort of always believe it to be exaggerated but thus far her trip had been positively cliche.

When her mother called and asked her to take the trip to London for the funeral it had come as a great surprise. She hadn't even realized she had a great grandmother still living. She knew of the woman. Most of the family had interesting stories to tell of her but she had always thought they had been speaking of someone no longer living. At first she kicked against the trip. She had responsibilities at work and home but curiosity got the better of her and before she knew it she had booked the flight.

After the funeral she had been taken to her great grandmothers flat. It was humble to say the least. In fact Celeste's heart broke that the living space was so small. The one room apartment was more like a large closet than a living area. Despite the lack of space the room was immaculately clean and tidy. Still, nothing seemed all that extraordinary and she actually became a bit disappointed. She wasn't sure what it was she had been expecting but something inside had told her to be prepare for adventure.  Now as she looked around she realized that any adventure she may have in London would have to come from some other source.

Pictures on the wall of her grandmother and mother, doilies, and a the usual things one might find in an elderly person's room gave the room a comfortable feeling. With the gloom of the English weather front moving in it actually felt sort of cozy.

Celeste packed away the pictures first, then set about packing up some the porcelain brick a brack and knick nacks that lined most of the table spaces and ledges around the room. Once she had finished with the small things she turned her attention to the closet at the back of the room. What she found there had captured her imagination. It had been like stepping back through time as she pulled the old steamer trunk from its hiding space.

As she opened the steamer her breath caught in her throat. What she found there was the most beautiful blue dress she had ever seen. The fabric was like nothing she'd ever touched before and the style was something from times long forgotten. She held the dress to herself. The aroma was intoxicating. For a moment she could feel herself twirling and dancing to a classical quartet. Celeste's imagination ran wild with stories of Victorian age parties.

A beatific smile lit up her face as she laid the dress in her lap and continued to sift through the unexpected treasures. As she looked through the worn memorabilia a leather bound book caught her attention. Celeste ran her hand over the book and felt the smoothness of the aged brown leather.

She took the book in both hands and slowly cracked it open. Tears glistened in her eyes as she realized that she was holding her great grandmother's diary. Celeste thumbed through the pages. Her eyes searched the pages following the curves of her great grandmothers elegant handwriting:

September 4th 1911
The tower was amazing. It was as if the iron edifice reached up and took hold of the very sky.
Standing there taking in the world in one long gaze made me long for Jonathan's arms to be around me and hold me safe from the edge but he's not here.  He never seems to be there. Maybe that's why it didn't seem to hurt all that bad to leave him.

As I stood atop the tower and looked out over Paris I couldn't help but cry. We just couldn't seem to connect since our little Elijah was born. It was as if he had become a new man, obsessed with the pursuit of money.

None of that seemed to mater looking out from the tip top of this man made mountain people are calling
Eiffel's Tower.
I don't know maybe there is something in the air in this city that just stirs something in a woman's heart or maybe it that I'm just lonely. Regardless, I fear I may make a very impetuous decisions. I'm leaving tomorrow. I need to get out of this city before I throw caution to the wind and book the next steamer back to the States.
and took hold of the very sky.   A letter arrived last week from Jonathan. He asked me to come back home to Boston. I don't know what to do. I'm so afraid that I'll just end up going back to him and finding myself only keeping up appearances for his law colleagues. I'm afraid. More afraid than I've been in a long time.

Celeste allowed her mind to conjure the beauty of what the city of Paris in 1911 must have been like. She could see the lights and feel the night air on her face. How exciting it must have been to experience electric lighting for the first time or stand on the top of the Eiffel Tower when it was only a few years old.

Suddenly she began to regret never having had the chance to sit and visit with her great grandmother. How interesting it must have been to be able to hear the stories of the world in the early 1900's? How wonderful it would have been to hear of her time in Paris.

Celeste continued to flip the pages, eager to find out more about her:

March 15th 1912,
I'm so excited. Jonathan and I have decided to give it another try. Oh, I know its going to be difficult but I don't care anymore. He seems so sincere about making a change and Elijah needs his father.
Today I received our passage. Jonathan must have spent a small fortune. I'm amazed. A year ago Jonathan wouldn't have spent a shilling on a carriage fair for us but today I hold in my hand two second class passages for the grandest of all steamers; the RMS Titanic. They say she's positively unsinkable. I'm looking forward to the adventure.

Celeste couldn't believe what she was reading. Could it be true that her great grandmother had actually been scheduled to travel on THE titanic? Her mind began to try and process what she had just read. What could have happened to keep her from making that trip?

She hugged the dress closer to her body then frantically flipped through the pages looking for the answers her mind was asking:

April 10th 1912,
The fan fair by which we set sail today was unbelievable. Crowds of people were there cheering and waving as if their hand gestures would some how put the wind into invisible sails. My stomach is still in knots. Some part of me feels like this is all a wonderful dream and I'm going to wake to find myself still in London, alone and longing for something different.
Today I have hope for the first time in a very long time that life can be more than it seems on the outside. I think I can find a place of peace, perhaps. Perhaps.

It couldn't be possible. Of all the stories told in her family, none had ever included the small detail that her great grandmother had been a passenger on the most well known of human disasters. How could this be?

Celeste turned the page:

April 13th 1912,
I'm so confused. These last few days have been so wonderful. Have I fallen under the spell of the romance of this beautiful ship? I wish I knew. I feel so guilty. I'm traveling the ocean to return to a husband I barely know but my heart has been lost to a man I feel I've always known.
His name is Thomas. He works on this glorious ship. Of all things he is a librarian. Can you conceive of it, a librarian on a steam ship. I met him at the very beginning of our voyage.
I was having trouble with my baggage. It's no simple task to travel with a one year old child. There he was like a knight in shining armor. His chiveralous smile capture my attention. I tried to put it away. I told myself I'd never see him again...but I did.
Last night he invited me to see the grand staircase. I don't know what else to call it. It was beautiful and so romantic. I felt like a princess in my fine blue gown and on the arm of a officer in his dress uniform. Its a fairy story that can't last. I know that. I know that when I reach New York this is going to be as if it never happened.
Oh Lord I know I'm doing wrong. I don't want to hurt Thomas. He's been such a gentleman with me. He's never even tried to hold my hand. In many ways he's everything Jonathan never was. My heart is breaking but I can't seem to help myself. If I only have these few moments of bliss then so be it. I'm tired of fighting with my own emotions.

Celeste fanned her face as she reddened at reading such private things about her great grandmother. Her heart went out to her. She couldn't imagine how difficult it must have been for her to have her heart torn between to men. She slowly turned the page. The paper was tear stained:

June 12th 1912,
They never found him. I think that's what hurts so much. His family will never have a body to lay to rest, to say a finale good bye. I don't even know how to get in touch with them. He told me of a sister who lives in Belfast but I have no means to contact her.
If only I could tell someone. If only I could let some one know that Thomas saved my life, saved Elijah's life, but I can't. I can never speak of Thomas aloud to anyone. Jonathan would never understand. It would only hurt him.
Somehow it seems like I'm disrespecting Thomas' memory by remaining silent.
If I can't speak of him aloud. I can at the very least write of him here, in my private memories. Maybe someday after my life has ceased from this earth, these things can be known. This is how my life was preserved. This is for him, this is for Thomas.

Celeste paused. She knew that she was about to share in something that had not been spoken of for ninety plus years. The waves of emotions that hit her literally shook her. Her hand trembled as she turned the page:

Thomas had sent word for me to meet him on the promenade deck where we had looked out at the stars the night before. He had finished his duties and expressed a desire to speak with me. Despite the lateness of the hour I couldn't decline. My heart wanted nothing more than to share at least one more night with him under the Atlantic stars.
He was late and it annoyed me. I left Elijah with his nanny but he had been very fussy that night and could be comforted by none but me. I was about to leave the deck when the boat listed slightly and a large shock went through the ship. At first I feared something had exploded in the ship. Thomas had told me of the great boiler that powered the ship and how important it was to keep them maintenanced correctly.
As I rushed toward my room to check on Elijah, Thomas appeared. He was white as a ghost. I'll never forget that look. It was as if I was looking into his thoughts and he was telling me that something was very very wrong.
Yet, he didn't speak. He only took me by the arm and led me quickly to my room. He spoke quickly and clearly.
"We've hit a burg" he said.
I was shocked but not worried, after all this was Titanic and Titanic was unsinkable. Nevertheless the look on his face and the power in his voice gave me pause.
"Take Elijah and come with me" he said.
I trusted Thomas with my life. I trusted him with the life of my child. We followed him back to the deck where people were already beginning to congregate.
I'll never forget the sound of the laughter from some and the cries of others. Some felt it was all a joke. Others prayed prayers of deliverance. Thomas being a member of the crew, was obligated to set about organizing the launch of the life boats.
It was unbelievable but many refused to get into the boats and the first few were launched only half full. After the first hour that all changed. The ship was sinking and we all knew it.
Thomas worked hard to get us onto a life boat but I couldn't bare to leave him there alone. I put it off as long as I could but I also had Elijah to think of. The time finally came when we couldn't wait any longer. The last of the boats were being loaded. Thomas brought us to the front of the line but a shoving match ensued in front of us and I lost him in the crowd. The boat was launched without us.
I was very frightened. I feared we were going to die in the icy water. Lord forgive me I even thought of suffocating Elijah to save him from the horrible drowning that seemed inevitable.
The ship was tilting making it hard to keep my feet. I slipped and nearly fell but as I felt my feet leave me I was caught and steadied. It was Thomas. He smiled at me then kissed my cheek softly.
"Come on, lets get you to safety" he said earnestly.
I wasn't sure what he meant. All the boats were launched. He took me by the hand and led me to a place were the men had launched a collapsible boat and were lowering woman and children down.
I can still feel the rope tired around my waste some nights. Even in my waking hours I can still see him smiling down at me as he held the rope tightly in his hands.
The hours went by and we watched in horror as the unsinkable ship disappeared under the Atlantic waves. Debris littered the ocean like a frozen refuse pit. The sounds of crying and screams of help still haunt me but it was the bodies that floated past us that have given me the worst of my night terrors.
One of those bodies I know in my heart was Thomas. How many lives did he preserve because he stayed with the ship I do not know. I do know of two and I am forever grateful for it.
It is a sheer miracle that I can write these things in this diary and perhaps it is divine providence as it was in a steamer trunk that was salvaged during the rescue operations and returned to me.
Someday Thomas. Someday your story will be told my love. This I promise. For now rest in peace.
 
Celeste wiped her eyes and closed the diary. She knew what she had to do. She had to tell this story for her great grandmother, she had to tell it for Thomas.

Over the next few months Celeste fought hard to have her grandmother's story published by anyone who would listen but unfortunately very little attention was giving out side rags like the Globe.

Still the story was made available and for the first time ever her family spoke of something that her great grandmother always wanted to express herself.

© 2009

In memory of the 1,517 souls who perished in the icy Atlantic sea April 15 1912 and to the 706 who were preserved many of which due to the self sacrifice of others. 

May 31st 2009 just two days after my family and I toured the world's largest Titanic museam, her sole living survivor was called from this life.  Millvina Dean who was only 6 months old at the time of the sinking closes the chapter a chapter on this tragedy but as long as mankind still has a compassionate heart beating in our chest, we will never close the book.

God bless
May 19, 2009 - Tuesday 

Category: Writing and Poetry

Dancing Sheep

By: “Timothy” Fred Parks

 

 

 

Music sounding

Merriment abounding

All forsaking

Mistakes keep making

 

When sheep dance

Never notice the lance

That comes so fierce

The heart to pierce

 

Lost it seems

In endless dreams

Lust fulfilled

As blood is spilled

 

Notice none?

Is it all in fun?

Or a Steinbeck ending

Do we see descending?

 

A swim in the ocean

Floating emotion

Tossed on a wave

The outcome is grave

 

One calls “here”

There’s nothing to fear

Another shouts “there”

You must beware

 

The sheep dance to and fro

Which way, which way

Do you know?

Can we know?

Shall we know?

Or simply dance…..dance…dance

 

Till its time for feast…upon the sheep….
May 11, 2009 - Monday 

Ode to an Unsung Hero

By: “Timothy” Fred Parks

 

 

 

Wake up

Get Dressed

It’s already started

 

“Mine!” a shriek pieces the ears.

“Don’t touch me” another scream follows

 

Into action faster than a speeding bullet

Solve domestic dispute

Crisis averted

No news coverage, no pat on the back

 

“Hungry” the natives grumble

Put on the chief hat and begin breakfast

 

Order up

Off with the chief’s hat and on with the waitress’s apron

No tip left behind

 

Native’s feed but still restless

Off with the apron grab the pointer its time for school

English, Math, Science, and History she lays it all out

The natives grumble but quickly realize resistance is futile

 

Lunch time

On with the chief’s hat again

More food slung by the waitress

Natives are appeased

 

Off with the chief’s hat on with the dishwasher’s apron

Clean clean clean

On with the housekeepers apron

Vacuum, dust, wash, rinse, dry

 

Repeat, rinse and repeat again.  Every day... no day off. 

 

Welcome to my working week….

 

Though not really a poem I just kind of refer to the above as ode to an unsung hero…wife/mom

 

Moms are special people.  Moms are the ones there with the band aid when we fall and scrape our knees, she’s the one with the stick of butter when we burn ourselves, and she’s the one we cry out to in the night when we’ve had a nightmare. They do a great deal without any special recognition, without a big money contract, without the spot light, without news stories and without fan fair…they simply do what they do because they love their children, and they love their family.

 

Today I want to talk about a special kind of mom/wife.  I want to talk about the woman who has dedicated her life to taking care of the home.  I know there are many out there who feel that being a house wife/mother is something less rewarding than having a high profile career.  Some feel its old fashioned or belittling of a woman to be housewives.  But I say there is no greater calling than to be able to, and in some cases sacrifice to, be a homemaker.

 

Don’t get me wrong, those families with two who have to work are worthy of recognition for the hard work they put in, and single parents even more so….but we recognize those much more readily.  We recognize those because we see them juggling and we are in awe of it….all the while we over look the woman who spends everyday, without ceasing being the glue that holds the family together.

 

For example I offer my wife.  It’s well documented through my writings that she has a physical ailment that often times keeps her from being able to do things the way she’d like to, yet despite the pain in her body…the house is clean, the kids are fed and she manages to find some time to share her faith with others through internet ministry.

 

Quite frankly I could not do what I do without her.  The Lord has blessed me beyond words by sending her into my life.

 

I look around and see so much confusion in the world.  I see young woman doing things to gain attention and acceptance that in all honesty does the opposite.  They present themselves as objects and therefore they are treated like objects.  When we look at people like Lindsey Lohan and Brittany Spears how can we not see this.  When I look at those two young women I see a lot of pain and confusion that simply is not necessary.

 

Charm is deceitful and beauty is vain,
But a woman who fears the LORD, she shall be praised

                                                                                                ~Proverbs 31:30

 

 

Young woman of the world understand that being a wife and mother is a blessed calling, it is a holy calling and something that we take for granted.  Never be ashamed of that calling.  You don’t have to please anyone, you don’t have to sacrifice your modesty and self respect to find lover and appreciating.  In fact when we compromise that’s when we lose respect, that’s when things spiral out of our hands and we end up doing things under false pretenses that will never fulfill the hole in our hearts.  Instead be proud to be a gift to the world.  Women have always been a gift and to be cherished as such.

 

As many as have come to the knowledge of Jesus Christ through the anointed preaching and teaching of men and woman called to preach and teach I would venture to say there have been twice as many come to the Lord simply through the Godly love of a mother. 

 

So today I ask the Lord’s blessing on those of this calling, I ask for the strength to be given to keep us moving ever onward.  I ask for revelation to those woman of all ages now being called into the holy calling of motherhood that what they do is so very important and worthy of respect.  Above all I just thank you Father for giving us these women and blessing them to put up with everything we dish out.  I thank you for mothers and wives whom you delivered to us to be the vessel by which you bring life through and nurture through.  Amen

 

God bless you and keep you.

 

 

May 8, 2009 - Friday 

Category: Religion and Philosophy
Today as our country comes together for a national day of prayer I'd like to open up a place for people to come and open up concerning the needs and hopes for our lives in this great country or ours.

Let us join in unity for the salvation of others and the leadership of our nation.


Father we come to you humbly in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, asking that Your will be done in our lives.  We ask you to touch the hearts, spirits and minds of those who have been selected to lead this nation and indeed for all the nations of the world.  Let your love light so shine in their hearts.

Father for those who are hungry or homeless, those who are addicted and bound, for those who struggle each day just to open their eyes and for those whose wide eyes can not see, for those who've lost loved ones and for those with new born children, for those who feel like there is nothing left to live for and for those on top of the world I ask a blessing today.  I ask the blessing of the presence of God and Your shikinah glory to rest upon them.

Father for the young people of our world I ask for wisdom knowledge and understanding to rest upon them, for they are the future or our societies.  Mold them and make them in the image our Jesus Christ.

Father for the Lost I ask that you reveal yourself in a very personal and powerful way today.  Let them feel you arms about them that they might begin to know you and desire to know you more.  That they will even this day accept Jesus Christ as savior, a sin debt paid by his death on the cross; delivering the blessed assurance from His rising from the grave on the third day.

Father you know beyond anything we could ever recognize, what we need in our lives.  I humble aske that you reveal those needs and empower us to the changes necessary to fulfill those needs.  I pray that at the glorious appearing of our Lord Jesus Christ we will be found working; loving our neighbor as we love ourselves.

I thank you Lord for this day.  I thank you for giving us another chance to come together for your glory.  Let Your will be done here in this flesh and in this earth as it is in heaven.

For the glory and honor and praise of Jesus Christ and in His name I pray.

Amen.



Please feel free to share your prayer or express what is in your heart here today on this day of prayer 2009

God bless
May 6, 2009 - Wednesday 

Category: Writing and Poetry

warning: intense content, reader discretion is advised
Though this will be a Christian fiction, the opening chapter may be too intense for some readers.  Please let me know how you feel.  If it seems to be a little over the top I'll need to rethink it a little.


Chapter 1: The Fear

 

 

Sweat beaded on the young woman’s forehead as she desperately fought to control her breathing.  It was almost an exercise in futility as the all consuming fear in the pit of her stomach caused her breath to come in short shallow gasped.   A tunnel of darkness began to close in on her vision.  Little flickers of light danced around her.  She felt faint.

 

Tears broke lose from her eyes and ran down her cheeks.  A scream caught in her throat and she just knew she was going to pass out.  The vision through the crack in the door terrified her beyond anything she could have ever imagined.

 

Panic over took her at the sound of a horrified gasp.  She put her hand over her mouth fearing the sound had come from her own lips.  It hadn’t.  It had come from the young man lying on the stainless steel autopsy table.  More tears streamed on her cheeks.  This was her fault.  She had brought the young man down into this place.  In search of a thrill, the two had ventured into areas of the hotel that had been closed off to the public. 

 

She remembered how she had giggled and teased him.

 

“Come on scaredie cat.  I won’t bite unless you want me too” she had whispered in his ear.

 

She could almost feel the young man’s heart palpitate in his chest.  He would have followed her anywhere at that point and she knew it. Down through the hidden door the two had gone giggling and flirting.  There was little light but enough to see their steps.  As they reached the end of the hallway they found a stainless steel door.  He had wanted to go back but her curiosity was peeked.  In addition to her reckless abandon personality the alcohol coursing its way through her blood system dissipated any inhibitions she may have had.  She pushed the door open and pulled him inside with her.   It was the latest of incredibly bad decisions she had made over the last few years. 

 

Once inside she had felt a little creeped out but didn’t want him to know.

 

“What is this place” he had said apprehensively.

 

In the middle of the room sat the autopsy table. Next to it was a rolling table with an assortment of antique looking surgical tools.

 

“I don’t think we should be here” he had said and took her by the arm.

 

She had laughed nervously.

 

“This is just a gag; you’ve heard the stories about this hotel.  They leave this down here to scare people.  Come on that passage way wasn’t hard to find.  It’s all a part or the fun” she had said to him. 

 

She leaned against his body and kissed him.  She could feel his tension. 

 

“Tell you what let’s play a little game” she said then took a linen cloth from the rolling table and twirled it.

 

She kissed the young man again then placed the cloth over his eyes and tied it in the back.

 

“Have you ever played blind man’s bluff”, she asked.

 

“No” he said and tried to pull her close again.

 

She pushed him back playfully.

 

“Not so fast speedy.  You count to twenty then see if you can find me.  If you catch me, I’m yours to do with as you please.  If you can’t then your just out of luck aren’t you” she said teasingly.

 

“I don’t know about this” he replied.

 

“I guess I was wrong about you, I thought you’d be fun” she said feigning exasperation with his reluctance to play along.

 

She  reached up to take the blind fold from his eyes but he grabbed her hand and smiled.

 

“You better hope I don’t catch you” he said slyly.

 

She giggled.  She was going to play him good now.  She had notice the little door just off to the right as they had come in.  While he counted she crept backwards quietly and checked the door.  She was in luck, it was open.  She slowly slipped inside to find it much smaller than she had hoped.  Shelves behind her pressed against her back.  It seemed that it was some sort of pharmaceutical storage cabinet.

 

She peered through the crack in the door trying to keep her laughter from giving her away.  If only she had known a few minutes later she’d be fighting her emotions for a chance to live. 

 

It had been then that a dark clothed person wearing a hood had appeared seemingly from nowhere and stood in front of the boy.  At first she had though it was a part of the show; just another prop to scare them.  The young man feeling the presence of another reached out and grabbed at the man.  She almost broke into laughter.  That is until the man swung a heavy blow down on the top of his head.  The young man’s legs buckled and he fell to the floor limply.  Before she had time to react the figure hefted him up onto the stainless steel table.

 

If only she had listened to Em.  If she had of just stayed home and not gone to that party.  Then maybe she wouldn’t have had the accident.  She’d still be in Cleveland with her mother and her sister.  She wouldn’t have had to run away. She wouldn’t be here watching this horror unfold; a horror she felt responsible for. It seemed unreal to her how it was possible that one little decision could affect every other decision, not just in her own life but the affects seemed to touch other lives around her.  It simply was not fair to have to be responsible in this way.  Yet it was happening.

 

The young man’s arms flailed unexpectedly in the throws of  death twitch.  A gasp escaped her throat before she could prevent herself from crying out.  The dark hooded figure standing over the young man’s body turned slowly; peering toward her hiding place.  Though the room was darkened and a hood shadowed his face, she recognized him.  His eye seemed to almost glow with a menacing light.  A wicked grin curled around his lips.

 

He knew she was there.  Her mind fought for an answer.  There had to be a way out, a way to survive.  She had a knack for getting herself out of trouble or so it seemed.  Somehow she had always been skilled in talking her way out of problems especially with men.  If talking didn’t work then she moved on to flirting or crying and it always seemed to work.  That was until six months ago… until that accident.  Somehow her charm didn’t seem to make a difference to the officers as they had put her in the back of that patrol car.  Why wouldn’t they listen?  She didn’t mean to hit that lady, it was an accident.  After that she had picked up a new skill in avoiding trouble, she had learned how to run. 

 

“All else fail…run”

 

These were the words that ran through her mind.  They were the words that had run through her mind after she had been released on bond.  The urge had been overwhelming then and it was overwhelming now.  She had to run.

 

The dark figure stepped away from the table.  A glimpse of a surgical saw in his right hand threatened to cause her legs to give way.  Very slowly the man moved towards her.  She trembled uncontrollably but waited.  The wait was the worst.  She felt like her heart might just explode in her chest and rob the man of the need to dispatch her himself.  Nevertheless she remained as still as possible.

 

“Alle alle auch sind frei” the man’s voice almost sang playfully as he raised his carving tool to his face.

 

He was very near now, blocking out what little light was in the room beyond.  She had waited as long as she could.  It was now or never.  As the man reached his left hand toward the doorknob the young woman shoved with all her might against the door.

 

The dark clad figure stumbled backwards and tripped over his own feet.  His head slapped the floor as the cutting instrument skipped across the room.  The young woman let out a scream as all the pent up tension exploded in the form of sound.  She slid slightly on the bare concrete floor of the hidden dissections room.  She quickly regained her balance and ran. 

 

In the darkened room she was a bit disorientated.  She didn’t know which direction to turn.   She reached the far wall to find she had gone further from the exit.  Frantically she turned.  Her feet moved faster than her legs sending her tumbling onto the floor.  Quickly she crawled and tried to get her feet back underneath her legs. 

 

Before she realized what she was doing she reached out and grabbed the table that was in front of her.  Her hand dipped into something warm as she pulled up to her feet.  Her eyes met the lifeless eyes of the young man she had only just met that night.  His body continued to twitch slightly. 

 

A wave of nausea sent a cold chill through her.  She fought to contain herself.  Her eyes turned to the man on the floor who was beginning to stir.  Once again she launched herself in the general direction of where she believed the exit to be.

 

As she passed the man on the floor his hand came out and clutched at her leg.  The young woman shrieked as she hopped just out of his reach and bolted through the door into a corridor.  She remembed this hallway; it was how they had come through before…

 

At the end of the hallway the entrance to the hidden stairwell the two young people had stumbled across less than an hour ago beckoned like a lighthouse shines for a ship tossed by the storm.  She was going to make it.  She was going to live.  Only a few feet, twenty at most and she’d be free.  Her heart beat faster in her chest as she reached the stairs that led up into the garden behind the hotel.  She bounded up the stairs taking two at a time.  Her legs burned at the build up of lactic acid.  Her muscles screamed for more oxygen.  Her lungs ached at the strain to supply the demand.

 

Her eyes blurred slightly as tears continued to form but a small sense of relief almost gave her wings and she took the last nine steps three at a time.  She pushed against the small steel trap door that covered the exit.  The door slid back and a rush of damp fresh air rushed past her.  Rain spattered her face as she stepped out then pushed the door closed. 

 

“Help” she screamed as she ran toward the hotel.

 

“What’s wrong missy” a man said and rushed toward her.

 

The young woman fell into his arms and began to weep.  Partly because of her fear but mostly from relief, she was safe now. 

 

“There, there little one, it’s gonna be ok” the man said and patted her on back as he hugged her.

 

“Mister you’ve got to call the cops…he…he murdered him” she sobbed.

 

Two more figures appeared next them.

 

“That’s just a shame little lady” the man sighed sorrowfully “a real shame, I wish you’d just kept to your business”

 

The young woman felt her heart in her throat.  The two people next to them reached out and took her by the arms.  With everything she had left she wrenched away.  She turned to run.  Two strong arms caught her before she could.  The two menacing eyes of the dark hooded figure loomed over her; a maniacal murderous grin spread across his shadowed face.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Six months later

 

“No” Emilie exclaimed as she abruptly came awake from a nightmare.

 

Her breath was heavy and the vision from the dream continued to play over and over in her mind.  She turned her head and looked at the clock.  The red LED numbers indicated it was still an hour before she needed to get up and prepare for work.

 

Frustration filled her with anxiety.  She knew she’d never be able to get back to sleep and she was already so very exhausted.  This was the fifth time this week she had been awakened in such a manner and it was beginning to take a toll on her.

 

The dream was the same every time, her sister Deidra being pulled from the twisted wreckage of her car.  The lifeless eyes of her sister stared vacantly at her as if to beg “why”.  The thing that terrified Emilie the most about the dream is that it had almost happened.  It had been nearly a year since her sister had been involved in a terrible accident in which a woman was nearly killed.  Though Deidra only suffered minor injury’s her car looked as if it had been chewed up and spit out by some prehistoric beast.

 

Emilie tried to shake the vision from her mind as she threw back the blankets while sitting up on the side of the bed and stretching.  She stood slowly and arched her back a little.  The mattress needed to be replaced.  Eventually she figured she’d get around to it but each time she decided to spend the money she’d talk herself out of it and just replace the foam bed top instead.

 

She breathed in deeply then pulled her rob around herself as she made her way into the kitchen.  The coffee pot sat idle waiting on its timer to elapse to begin brewing.  Emilie pressed the button on the machine to bypass the timer and start the flow of hot water through the coffee grounds before taking a seat at her kitchen table.  She rubbed her eyes.  They were sore from crying.  She’d have to remember to pick up some things at the grocery store later to try and ease the irritation.  Her grandmother used to make a poultice out of grated apples, cucumber juice and witch hazel that she would put on the eyes of the children when they cried.  Something about it always soothed her though she figured it far less about the remedy and more of the comfort of her grandmother’s arms around her that made the difference. 

 

Her mind turned back to her sister.  She’d been gone for six months now.  No letter, no email, no phone call, not even a post card had arrived to let her know whether she was alive or dead.   Part of her thought it was for the best.  If she found out where she was, she’d have to turn her in, she’d have to tell the police.  Deidra had skip out on bond in typical reckless and irresponsible manner. 

 

Emilie believed her mother knew more than she was saying about Deidra’s whereabouts; at least she had a vague inkling.  She had pressed her mother on the subject but she refused to give up any information she may have; fearing Emilie would run to the police.

 

Her mother was in full on protection mode, allowing her heart to over rule her head.  Hadn’t she realized after repeatedly getting Deidra out of trouble that it had only harmed her daughter rather than helped her?  Each time the impulsive young woman avoided punishment she went a little deeper into ill advised behavior.

 

“You just don’t understand your sister Em.  Deidra is a free spirit.  Someday she’ll settle down, you’ll see.  Don’t give up on her” her mother had said.

 

Emilie would never give up on her sister but she felt in her heart it was time to force Deidra to face her life head on rather than slip past it at every occasion.   Nevertheless she’d concede even this point for one phone call from her sister, just to hear her voice and know she was ok; especially on mornings she awoke from the nightmare.

 

The coffee maker growled and bellowed steam indicating it was nearing completion of its assigned duty.  Emilie stood and crossed to the cabinet to retrieve her coffee mug.  She pulled the mug down from its resting spot and looked at the cartoon on the side; a fat orange cat holding its owner by the lapels and squishing their faces together.  In bold black letters the words “I want my coffee” were scrolled above the image, underneath in smaller letters it read “Welcome to my work week…Happy Monday”.

 

The mug had been a gift from Deidra to commemorate getting the job with the marketing agency she now worked for.  Emilie had been so nervous that she wouldn’t get the job that she had been bouncing off the walls.  After she received word she had, indeed, gotten the job she had phoned Deidra first.  Later that night she took her mother and sister to dinner to celebrate.  That’s when Deidra pulled out the mug with a smile.

 

Those were different days.  Emilie searched her memories for another as happy but none beyond that night came to mind.  Instead memories of  picking her sister up from parties when she was too drunk to stand much less walk and paying fines on her behalf for petty thefts or shop lifting had replaced anything that could have been considered happy.

 

Nevertheless Deidra was her sister.  Somewhere deep inside the young woman who gave her that silly mug was still waiting for the chance to live again.  She just knew it.

 

Emilie filled her mug with the coffee then loaded it with her favorite creamer and sugar substitute before taking a short sip.  Emilie decided there was no use in waiting for her usual time to shower and dress.  She’d get ready early and then take her time getting to work.  Maybe she’d even stop by the little park a few blocks from her place of employment and watch the sun come up.  Besides sitting in her apartment all alone only gave her more opportunity to worry.

 

Emilie took another sip then placed the mug down on the table and rubbed her eyes again.

 

~beep, beep, beep~

 

The electronic ringer on her phone startled her slightly.  At first she though she had forgotten to turn off her alarm clock but then she realized it wasn’t time for the clock to sound. 

 

~beep, beep, beep~

 

The phone rang again, this time Emilie hurried to the phone that sat on the bar that separated her living area and the kitchen of her small apartment.

 

“Hello” she answered.

 

“Em” her mother’s voice cracked.

 

“Mom?” Emilie questioned.

 

The sound of broken sobs told Emilie something was very wrong.

 

Mom, what is it, what’s wrong” Emilie pleaded.

 

“It’s your sister; I’m so worried about her.  I can’t sleep” her mother’s voice replied.

 

“Do you need me to come over” Emilie asked.

 

“Em, I just don’t know what to do.  I…I need to talk to someone” her mother answered.

 

“I’ll be right over mom, just let me get dressed” Emilie said quickly.

 

The sound of sniffles and sobs continued for a few seconds.

 

“I just need to talk to someone” her mother repeated.

 

“I know mom, I could use some company too, just hold on I’m only about fifteen minutes away ok.  I’ll be right over” Emilie said.

 

“Thank you Em” her mother managed to squeak then hung up the phone.

 

Emilie began to fear she had been correct in suspecting her mother knew something more about Deidra’s whereabouts.  The sound of the woman’s voice sent dread into the pit of her stomach.  Something had happened to Deidra.

 

 

 

© 2009 all rights reserved

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May 5, 2009 - Tuesday 

Category: Writing and Poetry


Principal Characters:

Deidra Collins: Opening character and catalyst to bringing the others together

Age 24

Dark hair, dark eyes, reckless and mischievous, on the run from the law due to several misdemeanor violations and one count of felony drunk driving involving the injury of a elderly woman.
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Emilie Collins: Deidra’s older sister.

Age: 34

Dishwater blonde hair, blue eyes. 

Emilie lives alone in a small apartment in Cleveland Ohio.  She is slightly shy and keeps to herself.  She works a web designer and lay out artist for a marketing company in Cleveland.  She is very concerned about her sister’s whereabouts.
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Jonathan Rourk: Detective assigned to the Deidra Collins case.

Age: 31

Dark hair medium build

Jonathan Rourk has just been promoted to detective.  His first case involves the tracking down a hit and run driver that nearly killed an elderly woman.  Dogged by his peers due to his age and experience Jonathan goes above and beyond protocol to attempt to track down Deidra Collins; seeking to gain the respect of his co-workers.
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Imae Kagome: Japanese tourist in the United States to take cross country tour of America’s most haunted places.

Age: 22

Hair dark, eyes dark.

Imae is a vivacious young woman always on the look out for something fun to do, especially when that thing is something others tend to avoid.  She has currently taken the year from school against her parent’s wishes to pursue research for a book she is writing concerning debunking urban legends and spiritual hoaxes.
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Lawrence W. Swift: Hotel Manger of the “The New Moon” hotel nestled in the Ozark Mountains in northwest Arkansas.

Age: 73

Lawrence W. Swift is a man of few words but when he speaks his subordinates snap to order. He runs a tight ship at the New Moon, some say too tight.  Lawrence has very little tolerance for “ghost hunters” who frequent the hotel looking for illusive specters of lore that have been touted as making his hotel their home.  Many of the hotel employees have speculated that Lawrence himself is nothing more than a ghost as he seems to pop up in unlikely places without being heard coming of going.  He also never seems to sleep as he is in the hotel seemingly without break. 
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I know I'm not finished with Enigma yet but I just can't help it.  New Christian thriller working its way onto pages very soon.  Here's a little tease.

BannerFans.com

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May 4, 2009 - Monday 

Category: Music

Once upon a time in a land far far away

..  

There was a maiden who was under the oppression of  of an evil magistrate. The young woman was very beautiful and the magistrate desired to make her his wife.

..  

The magistrate threatened her father and told her that unless he gave his daughter to him to be wed he would make them rue the day....that is rue the day.

But the maiden had a young love whom she would sneak out to see every evening after sun down.


..  

Unbeknowest to the two lovers her father made the deal and signed it in blood. 

On the next day the magistrate came for his bride.  The young maiden managed to escape and run to her love.  The two decided they must leave the land and never return.

..  


The magistrate filled with wrath vowed to track them to the ends of the earth and have revenge.

..

Years went by the couple were very happy together.  Life was simple.  They had a small farm with animals and two beautiful children who played in the yard.  The man felt nothing in the world could destroy the joy in his heart.

Still it was not to be.  The magistrate found them and while the young man was in the fields the evil man fell upon his family and killed them one and all.

..  


The young man returned home to fine his family dead.  Rage overtook him.  He ran through the fields until he caught up with the magistrate on the road.  With revenge in his eye he struck first kill the magistrate with a single blow.

But there were witnesses to his revenge and he was arrested the next day and thrown into prison.

..

The man spent many years locked away until he was completely forgotten.  Many men came and went through the dungeons. Some guilty some not but each man the no longer young man would speak with.  He would share his story with and share what he had learned in his time of meditation and prayer.

Rendering evil for evil will never right the wrongs of life but there is peace if one will allow it in.  There is life beyond the ills of this world and it all came through a savior that loved us even when we can no longer lover ourselves.

His story is both sad and liberating but in the last days of his life before he passed from this plain he was able to touch many lives by sharing the love story that ended in tragedy and the love story that ended in victory.

..



May 2, 2009 - Saturday 
I'm going to challenge myself today...to bring a little sunshine (I hope) to Myspazz....
I'm going to try and post one blog in every catagory all in one day.  I don't know why but then again we don't need to know the "why" of everything.

Be on the look out because the first one is coming in the next half hour ;-() then its on like donkey kong till I finish the last one.  Ready....SET....GO!!!!

Update: Finished with 15 minutes to spare.  I would love to hear what you think about the undertaking...was it worth while or just a colosal waist of time

Update number 2:  I back dated most of the blogs so as to not clog up everyone's subscriptions with my silly self challenge.  If you want to check them out however here are links to all 26 blogs ;-)

http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendId=90702690&blogId=486648718

 

http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendId=90702690&blogId=486693468

 

http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendId=90702690&blogId=486692282

 

http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendId=90702690&blogId=486690936

 

http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendId=90702690&blogId=486688080

 

http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendId=90702690&blogId=486685732

 

http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendId=90702690&blogId=486682026

 

http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendId=90702690&blogId=486675694

 

http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendId=90702690&blogId=486673822

 

http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendId=90702690&blogId=486672014

 

http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendId=90702690&blogId=486669045

 

http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendId=90702690&blogId=486663664

 

http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendId=90702690&blogId=486652180

 

http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendId=90702690&blogId=486610404

 

http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendId=90702690&blogId=486597594

 

http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendId=90702690&blogId=486590619

 

http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendId=90702690&blogId=486585464

 

http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendId=90702690&blogId=486583629

 

http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendId=90702690&blogId=486580935

 

http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendId=90702690&blogId=486571017

 

http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendId=90702690&blogId=486568272

 

http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendId=90702690&blogId=486563874

 

http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendId=90702690&blogId=486560910

 

http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendId=90702690&blogId=486558507

 

http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendId=90702690&blogId=486552867

 

http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendId=90702690&blogId=486695474
April 30, 2009 - Thursday 

Category: Games

Truth or Dare: The Myspazz Edition

By: Timothy Fred Parks

I originally intended to write a short story called “Jester’s Tear” to post this week but have put it on the back burner at least for a few days.  I have so many ideas for stories popping in my mind right now.  If I had nothing but time to write I think I’d be turning out something every few hours.  It’s been this way for the last few weeks.  I’m not sure why.  I haven’t been posting much here but have been on other profile sites as well as just storing back things that come to mind on my flash drive. 

 

Today however, I thought I’d just ask you to sit a spell with me and talk.  I mean how often do we just hang out anymore?  There always seems like there is something to do, something to write, to read, to fix….

 

Just call this a time to entertain and element of boredom. One night, just one night to kick up your heels and let what ever comes to mind, flow out.  

 

Say something random or ask a question like what’s you favorite Ben Franklin invention (even though the bi-focal and the lighting rod were impressive I do love his armonica…I mean who can’t love something that scared the crude out of so many people right)

 

I’ve got it,… now this might be fun if everyone gets involved.  I’m going to make this a game. We’ll call it truth or dare the Myspazz edition.

 

Ok how about this.  Leave a comment stating “truth” or “dare”.  I’ll answer your comment and give you a challenge.  Once you’ve completed your challenge you can give me a challenge of the same sort i.e. if you complete a dare, you can dare me to do something, if you complete a truth you can challenge me to a truth.

 

Sound fun?  I think so.

 

I have to set one or two little rules though ok.  Don’t shake you head like that at me, we can have fun but keep it clean right…right?

 

So here are the rules

 

Nothing illicit

Nothing profane

Use good judgment

This is just for fun…don’t forget the element of fun ;-)

 

Other than that it’s wide open. Feel free to also challenge other commentors as well if you like but remember the rules when you do.

 

So that’s it folks.  If you are like me and just need to blow off some steam this might be just what the doctor ordered.  If not well at least I tried right ;-)

 

God bless and let’r rip tator chip

 

 Here's my answer to East Tex' Challenge ;-)


 

HELLO I’M WILLY BAYS AND I’M HERE TO TELL YOU ABOUT AN INCREDIBALE PRODUCT YOU CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’VE LIVED WITHOUT FOR SO LONG!

 

THIS PRODUCT SLICES, DICES, JULLIANS, AND MIXES ALL WITH THE EASE OF ONE BUTTON TECHNOLOGY THAT ALLOWS YOU TO SET IT AND FORGET IT!

 

(uh Willy wrong commercial check you script)

 

(the sound of rustling paper)

 

HELLO I’M WILLY BAYS AND I’M HERE TO TELL YOU ABOUT AN EXCITING NEW PRODUCT YOU CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT.

 

ARE YOU FED UP WITH OVER PRICED BLINKER FLUIDS THAT DON’T LIVE UP TO EXPECTATION? HAVE YOU FOUND YOURSELF WISHING FOR FASTER BLINKING LIGHT THAT SCREAMS TO OTHER DRIVERS AND PEDESTRIANS TO “GET OUT OF THE WAY! I’M TURNING HERE!”

 

WELL NOW YOU DON’T HAVE TO WISH ANY LONGER BECAUSE KALEco AUTO (a subsidiary of Fink, Fink, and Finger incorporated) HAS EXACTLY WHAT YOU NEED! 

 

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THIS NEW SYNTHETIC BLINKER FLUID IS MADE FROM A SPACE AGE POLOMER THAT IS NOT ONLY SAFE FOR THE ENVIRONMENT BUT IT ALSO TASTES PRETTY GOOD (takes big swig of bottle).

 

MY LOWD THAT STINGS! DOESN’T ANYONE CHECK THESE SCRIPTS BEFORE HAND….I THINK I’M LOSING FEELING IN MY LEFT ARM.

 

(Willy the camera is still rolling!)

 

HERE’S A FEW TESTIMONIALS

 

(Camera cuts to man in three piece suit smiling largely)

 

Its amazing the difference KRAPco synthetic blinker fluid has made in my life.

 

(sir, its KALEco not KRAPco)

Whatever.

 

Before KALEco synthetic blinker fluid my marriage was on the rocks, my kids hated me and I was making 2.75 an hour as a male prostitute to support my crack and oxycotin addiction.

 

But now thanks to KRAPco I have this nice new suite, a new job in advertising, a girl friend named Babs that helps me with my new addiction; shooting up KRAPco synthetic blinker fluid.

 

(Cut! Doesn’t anyone screen these things.  Take it back to Willy will ya!)

 

HoW MuCh wouLd YoU EXpeCT tO PAy fOR sUcH a fAnTastiC pRoDuct?

 

SIMiLAR pRODuCTS SEll iN sTOReS FOR UP to 99.99 bUt IF yOU cALL nOw YoU CAN HAve kALEco SYNtHEtic bLInKER fLUId FOR jUsT 19.95.

 

BUT wAIt IF yOU cAll IN thE nEXT 30 mINuTeS wE’LL tHROW iN tHIS lIFe tIME SUpplY OF stEAK kNIVES.

 

PLeASE rUSh TO yOUr PHoNES nOW AND cALL 911 i tHInK I’M dIEiNG.

 

(cut to the title screen)

 

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April 28, 2009 - Tuesday 

Category: Writing and Poetry

My letter still unopened idol upon a sea of tears

in your words I have found realization of all my fears

what happened

what happened

Why have you given up

Why have you faded into the night and flown away on wings of doves

I beseach the Lord asking why must this be

I need some grace now from above

I can't bear this emnity

Don't say goodbye

Don't say so long

I'm all alone now here inside