David Milch's John From Cincinatti

Might I suggest to myself to always research the TV shows young son gets work on. Although, management company is usually to be trusted they did leave out the fact that "John From Cincinatti" was a HBO show directed and written by John Milch. Language would be an issue. And it was. One word went flying after another and the crew was pretty comfortable using such language in front of the kids. Well, well, another teaching moment.

In any case, our day started at 4 in the morning with that quick 2 hour drive to Santa Clarita. Son's eyelids closed while I was content with my contraption, which
believes it's a radio, that actually picked up Air One. Nice to listen to Kutless and Sanctus Real so early in the morning. Get's the spirit part of me going. Awesome tunes as we prayed for safe passage from the 79, to the 60W, the 71N and the 57N to the 210W, and the 134W to the 5N and finally to the 14N. Oh, my aching tires!

It was a fine day and in the end it turned out to be an experience we dubbed "satisfactory." After all Son was paid a chunck of money (towards college fund) to skate all day and eat gourmet breakfast, luch and most excellent snacking of fresh fruit, yogurt, ice-cream and never-ending supplies of beverages. He went to school on set with the young co-star who was sweet and normal. Ms. teacher had problems with unruly students today and one parent was called in to settle his son down. No success and said Dad interrupted class with ensuing argument with studio teacher. Not pleasant.

We also met the wife of the pro-skater who invented the varial--still researching the authenticity of her claim. She did seem like someone who was sincere and not looking for attention. Spanky (son's new nickname) had fun talking to her.

So "John From Cincinatti" (Bruce Greenwood, Ed O'neill, Rebeca De Mornay) is a surfing show that borders on the supernatural. Yes, we have levitating characters and there is an alien, the kind from outer space. Would we accept an offer to work on this show for the season? Hmmm . . . flattered for sure but to stay on, that would require a few opinions and honest advice from good friends.

We returned home at a very decent time. Even still, it took four hours to get there, with one stop for gas, beverages and sunflower seeds and several other stops in the parking lots doubling as California freeways. Sleep was a welcome luxury till we woke early Saturday morning for Spanky's baseball game. And that is another story.

HBO David Milch John From Cincinatti

Call Time: 6:45am

Four a.m will come soon enough. So sleep is what I will seek right now. Layne has work to do on the morrow--6:45am to be exact!! He's playing an extreme skater and skate boarder in a movie (go figure) called "John From Cincinatti." This should be fun. We leave four in the morn' as it will take us two hours to get to Santa Clarita. Let's hope he doesn't fall flat on his face.

Still Bringing It Home

It is, to say the least, a wonderful thing when one can make a nice living doing the things one loves to do. In the case of the Gatekeeper, who writes for a paycheck, the extra income PayPerPost provides has been a God-sent.

Are writing skills fine tuned with each post? Oh, one would hope so. It's in the practice, though it be writing for the corporate world at times, it is writing nonetheless. Now if only I could find the secret of Alexa and why won't that little bubble upload in the world of my blogs? Yes, it's bittersweet. PayPerPost would let me earn a $1000 for just one post if I could only find a way to please the powers to be at Alexa. But wait, that number is slowly decreasing each day. We shall reach that goal soon.

So is it of interest to the reader to know how much the Gatekeeper has made thus far? And if this was revealed would said reader review this post and join her team at PayPerPost? Well then, I shall tell it to you. The earnings have been quite satisfying, a little over $500 now with more on the way. What shall it be used for? Good question, indeed. Writing conference, of course, where else would she spend it? Although a cruise to Hawaii with her beloved children would be her dream. In any case remember the little bloggers, PPP, and we shall never leave thee.

Scrolls of the Gatekeeper (Part VII) The Watcher

(He is the Watcher. Chosen to watch over the land of Canaan, the last outpost before the Heavenly realms. Son of Seth, a strong Warrior, the last of Paragon's Watchers. He is banished, however, no longer welcome and the Canaanites want nothing to do with his kind.)

**********

Josh Sethson’s spirit, trapped for the most part within his inner chambers, releases into a high state of alert. The Whisperers are here.

“I can smell your rotting flesh,” he says with a smirk. His pulse quickens and vibrates in every vein. Beads of sweat chill his face and cascade down his neck. In one hand, scarred with the reminders of battles gone by, he holds the dagger his late brother gave him (a six and a quarter inch steel blade with three different edge combinations). In the other, he clutches a few stones along with a slingshot.

White flakes disperse as brittle branches of the old forest tremble under the weight of an early snowfall. Birds flutter away in sudden panic. Josh turns to the left, then twists to his right.

“Too many shadows,” he mumbles. He is swift and stealthy. His movements only disturb the wind. Nevertheless, the Whisperers mock and frolic within the darkness that is beginning to surround the Watcher. He stops, giving cold mist a chance to catch up and settle around him. Finally, convinced that the creatures from the Land of Perdition will not fight, he returns the dagger between the leather straps that hold his boots together. The stones and slingshot he buries into his pocket.

His long black winter cloak sweeps over the hilt of his sword—a Watcher’s Sword. The last of the sons of Seth, heroes of the ancient world, steadies his hands and controls his breathing. At a moment’s notice, he is ready to release the iron blade from its weathered sheath. Still he sees nothing, but without a doubt, the whisper is heard—a very loud, scratchy whisper.

To Be Continued . . .

To keep your own scrolls visit the Gatekeeper's Shoppe for your special journal. And before you enter the castle ask the fair maidens for a few bars of their handmade soap if you please. We might be a tad bit rustic in decor, but we all be clean.

Gatekeeper Cafepress hand made soaps

Keep Sake Gifts For Mother

This is a sweet reminder that Mother's special day will soon arrive, most likely sooner than you had expected. The thirtheenth of May, we have set apart to celebrate our mothers. Do you not know what it is she desires besides chocolate and flowers? Let me be so blunt as to direct you to a special Shoppe, for just such an occasion, at Collectibles Today. Here ye shall find Mother's Day Pendants, Necklaces, Jewelry Gifts for Mom without leaving the comfort of your castle. It's a Gatekeeper's dream.

It is possible, from what I have heard and read, that one might not find these products anywhere else as 99% of all these precious jewels and other items are exclusive to this unique Shoppe of Collectibles. Needless to say then, you might also find that perfect gift for one's Grandmother or Daughter perhaps. Nonetheless, today we shall concentrate on Mothers alone . . . of all ages I might add.

Let's open up those pots of gold (Her worth is far more than your gold coins, do you not think so?) and explore the treasures that would light up Mother's blue, or brown, or hazel eyes.

There are music boxes for memories of days gone by with the enchanted carousel by artist Ardleigh Elliott. If Mother loves Thomas Kinkade--an intriguing, wintry music box playing I'll Be Home For Christmas, might be just what she was longing for. And what of those special jewelry pendants, and sparkling necklaces, and rings to grace her elegant fingers (especially lovely when playing the harp).

Furthermore, it would be wise to take advantage of the Shoppe's propietor who is able to inscribe on each gift a touching sentiment. This I would imagine will make this present a perfect keepsake gift that she, no doubt, will cherish for years.

So that you are without excuse, Mother's Day is in May, the 13th to be precise.

Out Of The Silent Planet (Book Review)

"They were astonished at what he had to tell them of human history--of war, slavery and prostitution.

"It is because they have no Oyarsa," said one of the pupils.
"It is because every one of them wants to be a little Oyarsa himself," said Augray.

Out Of The Silent Planet
By C. S. Lewis
Page 102

If you're expecting The Chronicles of Narnia type book, this one is far from it. Even so, Out of the Silent Planet is a must read for C. S. Lewis fans. He's brilliant, of course, with a story telling approach that is just masterful. The fact that he has knowledge of the Almighty God is very evident throughout his writing.

Dr. Ransom, the main character, is in fact (or based upon, one might say) J.R.R. Tolkien, one of his dearest friends and a member of The Inklings. They would have to be close friends as only such friends could talk to each other like they did at the end of this book. You'll have to read it for yourself--I'm not giving it away.

Speaking of the conclusion. This was a little odd. Not the ending one might have been looking for but satisfying nonetheless. I think it is expected from Lewis to finish this adventure the way he did, leaving it open for book two.

The book is a little slow to begin with (intellectual writers seem to take this approach). I do not know what a megalomaniacal physicist is. His writing and ever-developing plot, however, kept me reading on? His description of another realm is vivid and fun, new life forms are wonderful, loveable and to be honored. When it all comes together at the end, with one short sentence, it is revealed where they are and who these beings would be, you'll feel as brilliant as C.S. Lewis was.

It is definitely a study of the human condition and our need for a Saviour. This is done without preaching, which is most excellent I would suspect (I talk like that once in a while, sorry). On further review I will point you to the praise for Lewis written in The New Yorker which says the following . . .

"If wit and wisdom, style and scholarship are requisites to passage through the pearly gates, Mr. Lewis will be among the angels."

And from the Los Angeles Times . . .

"Lewis, perhaps more than any other twentieth-century writer, forced those who listened to him and read his works to come to terms with their own philosophical presuppositions."

C.S. Lewis Out Of The Silent Planet J.R.R. Tolkien Book Review

Chronicles Of Narnia Christianity God

It's A No-Crank One?

How does your garden grow? Spring has arrived and the sweet aroma of Jasmine blossoms is proof of that. After a frosty winter it seemed that our Cherry tree had breathed its last, but we were wrong. Life has sprung eternal and the hummingbirds have told us so. Nonetheless, oh stressfull burden of taking care of it all. Did Adam and Eve have such a task? That pesty hose, like a cranky old snake won't coil back where it's supposed to be. So there it lays over the flower beds. And there it stays.

But alas, you know the Gatekeeper will do her best to find a solution. Now this is something one must see for oneself. Even the Wall Street Journal seems to have aquired a taste for it, so to speak. Amongst all those hose reels this one claims you will need no strength and little effort to keep it nicely packed away. A No-Crank hose reel? Indeed. And with various designs to fit the look of your garden. No hands needed (though you might want to keep them).

How does it work? It's a little beyond the Gatekeeper's time but I believe it uses a water-piston engine to rewind that pesky garden hose. Flip a lever--use the power of water. No batteries, no electricity, not even a spring. And the cost of such a contraption--it won't empty your little pouch of gold at all. Furthermore, take a quick "looksee" and watch the video--truly amazing one might say.

The Weekend And Such

Our special treat this weekend, of course, was having Sarah home from Biola. Desert weather was kind to her with gentle breezes and a little morning mist before the sun showed its strength.

It was opening day for youth baseball, thus the reason we gave ourselves only four hours of sleep on Friday. Catching up on life and talking about this and that took us into the wee hours of Saturday morning. Does anyone else get really goofy at 3:00am? Ah, forgive them.

In any case, though the buffalo and the ostrich family were already roaming, 7:00am came much too quickly. But we armed ourselves with beach chairs, video camera, and bottled water. Then we relaxed under God's blue sky and watched over 300 children, who did their best not to get bored, as adults in much too tight baseball attire introduced all the wonderful people who had supported Hemet Youth Baseball since 1954. They even found the orginal league trophy.

All the local farm boys came out with their Chevy and Dodge trucks adding to the festivities. When someone, at last, introduced the NASCAR lady to sing the national anthem I was afraid she would break out into a very loud rendition of "Sweet, Home Alabama." Well, they'd have to change the words, but that was the atmosphere. Finally, at around 2:00 in the afternoon the day was done, the dust began to settle (on my car) and for the first time we witnessed what LA must think of as a baby traffic jam.

The next morning, way too early once again, we made the 85 mile trip to church. There's got to be something closer--we say it every Sunday. Ah, it's family you know. Pastor Dennis was marvelous as he spoke about that mustard-seed-size faith. After church we gathered at Applebee's with a friend before travelling to Uncle Josh' house (who was feverishly working to fill Emmie's Store orders) so he could fix Sarah's new computer which doesn't seem to like the Biola filtering system. Then it was another 85 miles on the 60 freeway, through cow country, around the lake and over the dirt bike tracks, back to our desert paradise. The night was peaceful, even the coyotes slept. We truly thank the Lord for that.

Today is Monday, Layne is struggling to get out of bed and I must make breakfast. Writing will be my main issue today. The next chapter of Scrolls of the Gatekeeper will be written in my next post. It's rather perfect timing since my lesson for The Christian Writer's Guild is on self-editing. That, no doubt, will need to be done. Till we meet again, I bid thee all a fair morning.

The Upper Room

Oh, if only I could get my brain to slap back into writing devotions. The mailman came today and left me a nice letter from the Upper Room. Check out the May issue and you'll find yours truly with a little bit of wisdom on one of their pages. Yes, I apparently get wise once in a while.


In any case, my writing life needs much more discipline. Although blogging helps I still don't count it towards my 500 words a day. Well, can't wait to get my issue: they've given me a free year's subscription. Nice. By the way, I believe the Upper Room reaches over 3 million readers. Not too shabby. Here's their writer guidelines.

It's my goal to complete a book of devotions for single moms and dads. That would be sweet.



devotions Upper Room Christianity writers guidelines

Reflections

I do not belong on planet Earth. That has become so obvious this past year and drilled into me these previous weeks. Not to worry, it doesn't sadden me, well not to depression. Actually it gives me more strength and a sense of purpose. Does that make sense? I agree with Paul, To live is Christ to die is gain. Again, not to worry, my kids need me. I'd stay for that.

Another scripture that gives me pleasure and much insight is the one that speaks of: "this home is not our home." Even though we have this awesome house to live in now, with wondrous gardens and open spaces, I just cannot call it home. Grateful? Absolutely. My gratitude cannot be put in words. Oh, btw, I'm feeling pretty sickly as I'm writing this so if anyone could actually quote me the scripture and where it, just "comment" it to me.

To continue: Layne and I live, play and work in Hollywood, LA, and Burbank more than half the year and it's pleasant most of the time. But, wow, both Layne and I know and feel that Hollywood is not our world. Yet, as the day progresses on the set or on location, the Lord always brings someone along side of us, both kids and adults, that needed to hear that there is indeed a God. That's a great purpose to be working there, not just that Layne has talent.

Then there's baseball. Hundreds of parents talk about how great their kids are--and they are. But you know, I believe they said somewhere along this March Madness tournament (I know that's basketball, same dif) that only 1% of these college players are headed for the pros. That's a very small number, yet all these parents are hopefull their kids can make it.

On the other hand, church makes sense, God makes sense, God's people--some of them, not so much. But even that's okay since I know that I probably don't measure up to most of them either. Single mom with no college degree (a few certificates on belt notch though) and no "real" job to speak of, unless you call freelance writing a job, and I do. Oh, and a brain which doesn't seem to remember things too well these days. Yellow sticky notes everywhere!

This I do know as I walk around the baseball fields--God is still mindful of me. Phew! I love Sharon Lynn's devotional about the birds. I might just post it again tomorrow. Don't you just love it. Birds! Yeah, why would He not take care of me if he bothers to take care of birds? Speaking of birds. . .

The Neighborhood: (awkward transition, just pay attention)

So many children. Hundreds if not more, gathered around the dusty baseball fields. It's different here in God's open desert lands. The heat of the day can quickly turn to a freezing dusk. No one seems to mind.

I look beyond the fields where the mountains display their glory (God's glory, since no one else can take credit for their creation). It's almost a painting with the whitish blue sky as its canvas. Trees in the desert? Certainly. Though tall enough, only one can enjoy its shade for now.

There are no streets here, no houses to line the park, only God's open fields with patches of grass here and there. The Lord decided, on this day, to release the hawks (I thought they were eagles). Mighty beings they are as they circled the desert scenery. And they flew low enough for most of us to dart out of the way till we stood still in awe. It's your sky, we know, I wish I could fly!

Gold

Believe it or not the castle is still in good hands. The gold is hidden somewhere safe, that's not to say I actually remember where it's hidden. But it is there nonetheless. Now, I must confess, there's nothing really that I would know of how to invest this, or anything else for that matter. A little help is needed perhaps. I'm thinking the value of that green paper stuff in our nation has lost its value, indeed.

Now, I'm not quite understanding it still, maybe you could lend your expertise. For instance am I right to disclose that such things as gas, food etc. has not gotten more expensive but, alas, the worth of our money is less. Quite, I dare say or something to that effect.

Ah, it is my gold that has not lost its worth. True, is it not? It is. Here we are then--may I suggest you unearth your treasure chest of Gold Bullion you stowed away for that rainy day, so to speak, and discuss monetary investment with the experts. Oh, yes, we have experts don't you know. Unfortunately it is not me, but may I direct you to the folks who live and breathe this stuff since 1967 (a little beyond my time I see).

Walk the path to Monex then as they have the experience and resources, I might add, in any precious metals. I do love that word precious. In any case travel back with them to a time when our dollar apparently was backed by real money or silver (or my gold!). This is not to say I have much of any knowledge in this world but, no doubt, they do. After all they have helped over one hundred thousand investors and they look forward to helping you with all your investments. For heaven's sake, my friends, keep the castle.



blogitive gold bullion precious metals

The Journals

The Gatekeeper has opened up her new Shoppe, and yes, she liked the spelling so she's using it no matter it be wrong or right. Should you be interested in keeping a nice, personal or not-so-personal journal? The shopkeeper highly recommends that you do (and so does former Disney Imagineer, McNair Wilson, btw). You see, everyone has a story. When the inspiration hits one could whip out their journal from book bag etc. and jot down life's mysteries and art work (or well produced squiggly lines, so to speak).

We'd like to mention at this point that we are seeking to self-publish a few ongoing projects with WinePress (preferably, but Lulu could come in handy) and are in need of a little bit of fundages (it seems we are making up words today). Nonetheless, have a quick looksee at the Gatekeeper's Shoppe, and by all means suggestions for journal covers are most welcome. Here's the first edition of The Gatekeeper's Journal (it's empty as she means for you to journal your life within those pages).

Gatekeeper Cafepress Winepress self publishing Lulu

Artisans Village

Well, I've lived my life around musicians and those artists type and I never tire of the music or the masterpieces of oil on canvas. So it's nice, of course, when I stumble upon a little corner of the web where they are selling art online which is a very noble endeavor. It's an artist wonderland over there at the market and plenty of gift ideas including the certificates if you can't decide.

It's a classy site, very pleasant to the eyes, with everything laid out for you. The artisans' talents range from vintage jewelry making, fine art and mom's favorite, the African basket weaving.

Take a look, the art alone will take your breath away. But beware, the quick minute you meant to spend over there might turn into a couple of hours. It's a good thing.

Remember Anne Rice

Well, we don't have the full story except to say that Anne Rice's new book is Christ the Lord Out of Egypt. I took note (from her photograph on her site) that she looks much happier. Indeed, are we not used to seeing her in black and forever hiding behind a veil? It might be the way I have always perceived her. Is Lestat no more? Probably a good thing for the Gatekeeper. It's all so intriguing, the dark side of Heaven. She states right there at Anne's new place that she has returned "to the fold." Must say, I'm grateful I never left. When one has known the darkness it does seem logical that one has always known, or at least recognized, the Light.

In any case Christ the Lord Out of Egypt is something I would like to check out allthough my TBR (to be read) list is exploding into something uncontrollable. Here's a snippet from Anne's site . . .

FOR THE READERS OF CHRIST THE LORD, OUT OF EGYPT: This new introduction appears in the paperback edition of the book, released November 1st, 2006:

This book seeks to present a realistic fictional portrait of Our Lord in Time. It is rooted in the faith that the Creator of the Universe became human in the person of Jesus Christ and “dwelt among us.” The magnificent mystery of the Incarnation is accepted and affirmed as fact. Scripture is the inspiration for the emotions and powers of the Child Jesus as they are envisioned here. History as well as the gospels is the source for this picture of a world in which Our Lord might have lived, as a little boy, in war and in peace, from day to day.

Ad majorem Dei gloriam.
July 12, 2006

So does anyone else have an opinion of Anne and her new book??


Jesus Christ the Lord Anne Rice thoughts of the Gatekeeper

Savings For You

It's time once again to visit the Coupon Chief. Wonderful savings for one and all are just one click away. If you don't have time to download your coupons at this very moment, one should at least bookmark the Chief. What say ye?

Shall we then investigate a little further? Starting with the boys of summer; we are pleased to announce 10% off on outlet items, of all things, at your MLB online store. There are a bundle of coupons all over that site so come and splurge.

And who could do better than the folks at Overstock dot com, except the Chief himself of course? Drift on over to the big O and grab your 7% savings on all orders. Newbies get free shipping on orders over $50. It's a good start.

I dare say, your basket of coupons is yours for the taking at the Coupon Chief.

The Chronicles of Marilyn's Neighborhood

It is a strange neighborhood indeed, the place where Lady Marilyn, our leader and mentor, lives. Not like ours at all. The desert here is void of children. Though I must admit it is a land of wonder--very quiet, which brings peace, of course. Here I shall stay for the next two days for there is work to be done.

Basil Bear Learns to Tell Time and Goes to School was given birth by our beloved leader and mentor, Marilyn J. Woody. Yes, it is important we mention her full name. The time for writing has returned to Palm Desert. Which again reminds me, the palms sway to their own song here. Oh and yes, the crystal blue stream runs by her castle with a man-made lake, or swimming pool if you must, just to the right of it. Serenity!

Today I was introduced to Talking to God: A Child's Guide to Prayer. Shamefull really, for I did not know the author was my friend. It would do me well to read friend's books. Oh, the shame. Not to worry, it shall be added to the list. Talking to God, of course, is quite easy to do here. Ducks fly overhead and adds to neighborhood charm. Unfortunately the geese did not appear today.

As we work on an unfinished manuscript, left behind by our dear friend Arleta Richardson, who has gone to be with our Lord we hope to breathe life into Marilyn's High chair devotions: Introduce your toddler to the Bible series. The work is endless but most enjoyable in a place where fountains whisper and breezes cool the the biting heat.


When one journeys on these neighborhood paths, one must be careful so as not to hit the golf carts that travel along the winding lanes. Sharing the road is crucial. Losing one's way is always a possibility here where grassy parks surround the rows of empty houses--population is low around this time of year which adds to the stillness of life. There is a small waterfall cascading just outside the open window of my bedroom. Gentle breezes escape through the lace curtains. I close my eyes . . .

It's News To Me

Big news is coming . . . it is what the good folks at PayPerPost are saying. Yes, something is up their sleeve, but alas, that something has not come out of the sleeve as yet. Of course there is always that chance that the Gatekeeper has heard a few tidbits here and there from her spies (uhum, she means friends) in the PPP offices. Keep it quiet please. She might have somewhat of a clue what's going on. I'm just saying.

You know, there are those of us still seeking to increase site traffic, are we not? We are indeed. Not to worry, you will know the secrets soon enough. Details later. Now let me see what those sneaky undercovers are saying . . . Could it be that minimum pay for those opps will start at $50. That would be big news. Um, it's always a possibility. Though undercover agent can't seem to unscramble the chatter over those frequency thingy-a-me-doodle lines. Info could be wrong to say the least.

Ah, they're thinking it could be that PPP is buying a major publishing house. Yes, the chances are good. Soon, full length manuscripts can be submitted to . . . oh, names are still encrypted. This could be a problem. Well, it seems you must actually be a PPP writer to be considered for publication, so joining seems to be a must. Oh, no! That's not it. The news at last. We can actually review bloggers posts. Yes that's it . . . review my post and I'll review yours and we both get paid and so on. I'm just saying!

PayPerPost reviewing posts increase traffic

Scrolls of the Gatekeeper (Part VI) Paladin

The road back home is long. Thirty hawk sitings have made it bearable, however. The bug juice on the window--not so much. Northern California, San Jose, is quite quant and I would like to update you on the Creative Spirit seminar later as well as the CineQuest film festival. In the meantime catch up with the Warriors, won't you? The chapter before can be found here.

“You thought otherwise?” Pernicious grunts, knowing his friend’s desire for him to return to all that is good. His voice is deep, raspy and depraved. It does not fit his appearance.

Paladin retreats, but no more than two steps. “How does it feel? Your former body?” he asks with a playful smile.

“No difference,” Pernicious muttered (a lie, in all probability).

Paladin grins and says, “I think you are most incapable of telling the truth.”

Talmud (acting more like Whisperer than Warrior) faces his foe and mirrors his every move. “So many scars on your body,” he snickers. “Does anyone care?”

“Many,” says the faithful Guardian. He kneels on one knee, letting the palms of his unshakable hand caress the freshness of soft grass. His demeanor, to say the least, bothers Talmud, who shifts within inches from Paladin’s face.

“Wouldn’t you like to join me?” he whispers. “I know you have thought about it. Struggled with it. Why have such conflict in your existence? I do as I please, take what I want, listen to no one. And there are things this world has to offer that have been kept from us, Paladin. It is all ours to take and to control.”

“What do you control, Talmud? Where is your kingdom?” Paladin asks. “Who is a part of your kingdom? There is not one you can trust. And it appears no one follows you either. I am but one Warrior crossing the river and those with you have scattered to the hills. And Tamarrah . . . did you not forsake Paradise for her? Yet you know she will never be yours. It is only desire, after all.”

“There will be no choice for her,” Talmud bellows. He is agitated now and turns his anger towards Paladin. The Whisperer takes one incredible Warrior-like leap into the cold night air taking dead aim for the Guardian.

Paladin’s skill takes him out of harm’s way. He pounces away like a cat on prey completely avoiding Talmud’s flight. Talmud lands hard on his back with a loud thump that echoes right through him. He rolls over, recovers slowly and sits like a wounded frog as madness and hatred fills his eyes. Talmud is wicked through and through and Paladin will not forget it.

The Warrior wipes his face, throws his sword into the Effervescence and stands ready to thrash his enemy.

“Fair enough,” Talmud scoffs. Charged lightning screams towards Paladin.

For a second time, the Warrior moves effortlessly out of the way and with unexpected swiftness seizes the forsaken Whisperer by the throat. A devastating blow to the chest knocks the air out of Talmud. Mercy abandons the Warrior. Paladin crushes his victim’s torso and shoves him deeper into the earth.

Talmud grimaces, wrapping his huge hands around Paladin’s throat. The Warrior smiles. He is not affected. “I don’t remember you this weak,” he says.

Paladin slams his right fist into Talmud’s sturdy jaw. Then, surprisingly, Talmud hammers his bony forehead into the bridge of the Warrior’s nose. They both stagger a few feet away from the other. Their blood drips generously. Each breath, for both, yields great effort to survive this contest.
Talmud tries one more time to lure Paladin over to his side. “Join me, Paladin,” he pleads. “We can do so much together.”

Paladin is not swayed. “There is nothing you offer that is worth betraying the King.”

“You’ve made your choice, then?” Talmud asks.

Paladin nods. “A long time ago, you coward. A long time ago.”

As he speaks those words, an inner strength fills the faithful Guardian. Talmud recognizes the source of that strength and is deeply troubled.

“And so it ends,” Paladin says. His attack is ruthless and direct. The fury of the elements clashes around them. True lightning strikes as wind blows water, dirt and blood together. The smell of doom is nearby.

An unwavering assault on Talmud leaves him dangling in Paladin’s arms. Every part of him is broken including his will to live. Yet live he must—in eternal agony, a deathless living in everlasting abandonment.

“Kill me, then,” he begs.

Paladin pities him but does nothing more. He watches the once mighty Warrior’s body change back to the spiny and worthless creature Pernicious has chosen to be.

At Paladin’s feet, Pernicious’ life lies sputtering in convulsions, defeated by his greatest enemy, though he cannot quite remember why he hates Paladin so. He just does. The earth scolds him as he whimpers away in loathsome puddles of mud. Why can’t I die, he thought.

Paladin turns his back. He walks into the Effervescence River where he eases his own wounds with the life-giving water. His scars remain, but fade from his memory.

Pernicious slithers slowly to the edge, “Let me die here in His water,” he hisses.

Paladin looks over his shoulder. “Your life cannot end, Pernicious. Do you not remember the consequences of your choices?”

Pernicious stumbles into the Effervescence hoping for an end, but the waters burn him alive. Paladin closes his eyes. A shell of a body floats upon the powerful river and carries it south to the Moribund.

Thursday Thirteen Edition #9

Thirteen PlacesI've lived, visited or wish to see.



1. Hollandia, New Guinea. Was born here. I'm a little jungle baby.

2. Beverwijk, The Netherlands. Lived there for 8 years--fell through a frozen pond once.

3. Strathpine, Queensland, Australia--I miss it down under! Chico rolls and rugby league. Oh and cricket too.

3. Washington, USA. Have bad memories here but a few good ones as well.

4. California, USA. I don't think I fit here very well, but it's home.

5. London. We were there for a couple of hours. I don't remember why though.

6. Capetown, South Africa. SCARY!!!! This was a stop-over on our journey to Australia. The Suez Canal was closed which forced us to go around the Cape of Good Hope. Life could have ended there. God had other plans.

7. Mauii, I'll take my parents there one day.

8. Colorado Springs . . . I didn't follow Dr. Dobson there but I trained the CO people and went back to CA.

9. Maine . . . I have a need to visit. It probably has something to do with Stephen King novels.

10. Chesapeake Bay or wherever there are lighthouses would be a wonderful vacation spot.

11. New Zealand . . . College girl and I would like to take the LOTR's tour.

12. I'd like to drive through England . . . London perhaps since I don't remember it the first time.

13. Italy. There in a seaside village the Gatekeeper will be happy till the end of days. We shall see.



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Happy Notes

Happy thoughts today. I believe the Gatekeeper had a small part in bringing long lost relatives together through blogging. What are the chances, indeed? Let us investigate. Bloggie friend, Janey Lorey at Notes From The Heart posts pictures from family reunion in Arizona. Writing buddy, Sharon Lynn, shooting the breeze over on California Breeze checks out Janey's pretty pictures and leaves comment that pictures look very familiar. I would say so, as the photographs are of the exact same ranch! It's quite heartwarming to see the exchange of comments at Janey's blog. Ah, family.

Next noteworthy news item--College girl (who would rather be at the beach) and Gatekeeper are on the road. Gatekeep' is actually blogging with her new PC wireless card at this very moment. We are making the journey to Cupertino for a film/screenwriting seminar with actor Stephen Baldwin, director Dallas Jenkins and a few imagineers from Disney. The road is dreadfully long and boring and we argue if the trees along the way are cherry trees or . . . ? Pretty, nonetheless. In any case I will bid you a sweet farewell for now, see you up North.

Stone Hawk

The Gatekeeper has seen the horrendous effects on one's body, and one's spirit I might add, when drugs invade. Lifes are chained, imprisoned in darkness, and the addiction controls the mind. God is always a good source for help and He also sends aid through michigan drug rehabilitation at Stone Hawk.

What impresses the Gatekeeper about this program is the drug-free approach--this is not always used in other programs. It is stated at Stone Hawk that their staff is not only qualified (there are three doctors on staff as well as thirteen nurses, available 24/7), but they also care and truly understand the hardships of the addict. Some of their caring staff themselves are graduates of the program. They've lived the nightmare and are living proof that there is healing.

You might also like to know that Stone Hawk's success rate is an astounding 76%. This would mean that 3 out of 4 graduates not only leave clean (body, mind and spirit) but stay clean--always a good sign.

I must add that the location is serene, indeed. Housing is near calm waters amongst the peaceful trees--much needed, I am sure. These last two things must be mentioned here; financing is available, forms are at their site, and an information package is ready for one and all to download. My prayers are with you and many blessings for the staff at Stone Hawk.

Another Peek Into Our Writers' Group

A hearty thanks from the Gatekeeper to my dear writing buddy, Sharon Lynn from California Breeze, who shall from now on be known as the Minutekeeper. Ah, truly, she does it well. Her local newspaper would do well to ask her to pen her own column. The following minutes were seen through her eyes . . .



The March Minutes

On a breezy Friday morning five writers headed up the pathway through the nodding daffodils. Music, from a nearby composer at work, drifted through the cool air, serenading their steps. One by one they ascended the stairs and stepped into Sharon’s living room.

Present:

Ruth
Marilyn
Jane Signs and Wonders in America Today: Amazing Accounts of God's Power
Debby
Brenda
Sharon (Check out her blog on Wednesdays for writing tips)


Absent:

Sharon Eliott (Teaching) Living a Milk And Honey Life: Letting Go of What's Holding You Back
Pat (Teaching)
Debbie (Singing and Speaking)
Sandee (At a Teen Challenge Gala) Daddy, Will You Dance with Me?
Deanne (Flying home from Texas)
Colleen (Chasing Children)
Yvonne (Missing in Action)
Becky (at a conference)

Ruth, the first to arrive, stepped into the house bearing crackers, walnuts and green and orange toenails. When questioned, she explained this related to St. Patrick’s day and that the color green symbolized Irish Catholics and the color Orange symbolized Irish Protestants. We are thankful for Ruth’s Irish history lesson on toes.

Marilyn arrived laden with a large manuscript and a bowl of pistachio nuts. She is working on a synopsis of Arleta Richardson’s (In Grandmas Attic (The Grandma's Attic Series) novel on Manzanar (Japanese Internment Camp) for the upcoming Mt. Hermon Writing Conference.

Jane, who making an effort to break from her frantic editing schedule slipped through the door looking wonderfully calm. Soon after, the Gatekeeper barged through the door in black suede boots—shouted a greeting—then trotted straight toward the restroom.

We opened with a prayer. Then suddenly the door rattled and it was Brenda! In a crisp white shirt and jeans. She held the latest draft of her children’s book. For some reason, it seemed good to open in prayer again. Brenda prayed for Cody, which meant a lot to Sharon.

We started the morning discussing Ruth’s idea of writing about her Father and Step-Father—who both were soldiers in WWII. Everyone had a different idea about where Ruth should go with this article. We finally left all our ideas in her lap, and eagerly anticipate what she will do with them.

Secondly, we discussed Arleta’s Manzanar novel which Marilyn would like to take to Mt. Hermon. A number of ways for Marilyn to enhance the manuscript were tossed around. This included improving the setting, more character development, intertwining the lives of the families. We also discussed how many years Marilyn has left in her life.

Thirdly, we read through Brenda’s latest children’s book draft. We really enjoyed it! The book teaches children that although their mother doesn’t go to school, she stays quite busy, meeting the needs of the family. We decided that Brenda’s husband should be in the background of each page, relaxing on the couch.

Fourthly, Jane, who is supposed to be taking a break from her frantic editing schedule, took on a small editing project for a friend—only to find it growing and growing into a book project. She hopes she can finish soon!

Fifth, Debby was excited to report that she and her 2 children have been invited to a conference involving screen writing, acting, and production. The three of them have strong interests in those areas!

Finally, Sharon, who was sitting in the love seat almost fell asleep. She said her dirt bike article is sleeping too. It’s been stuck at a major magazine publisher since September ’06.

Amazingly, we worked hard and stayed focused, and did not gossip about the people who were missing.

Yours Truly,

Sharon
Reporter of the Minutes (or The Minutekeeper)

What goes on in your writing group?? Would you like to share? The Gatekeeper will link to your minutes post, if you like. You could also read what went on with the Inklings here.

The Neighborhood

I dare say the chronicles of my neighborhood have been neglected. My sincere apologies. However, it occurs to me that our little village , and indeed our lives, cannot be all that different from your own.

Do you not have hawks surfing the wind beyond the golden brick wall of your gardens? I thought so. And is the snow-capped mountains not visible from your crystal clear windows while the sun gently touches the glass? Ah, such beauty. I will confess that the cherry tree is struggling to blossom underneath the morning frost but there are green leaves lifting skyward. The apple tree still holds its own and the purple flowers are sprouting. Their name escapes me. What is man, that thou art mindful of him? This was the question the Psalmist asked, as do I.

So on this particular morn' the wind blew so hard it sang a haunting song. Strange really, but it was a comforting sort of tune. And in those small sand storms the sounds of kids playing baseball, with the clacks of their cleats and smacks of ball on leather, stirr the path of the wind. My child is there--on a field of dirt and grass. New friends are at his fingertips, so to speak. A new season has begun. It promises to be full of wondrous memories.

New friends have come by here; Mr. Frank Viola and the Vicar--G. P. Taylor. Of course a return visit might never come this way again, but no matter, The Gatekeeper was delighted to have them, if even for a moment. It is hard to believe, I know, nonetheless I am now reading all three books in light of those visits. And soon I shall have a review on each of them; God's Ultimate Passion, Shadowmancer and Out of the Silent Planet.

Ah, my friends, it seems that neighbor to the right awaits the arrival of her husband who travels the highways of the nation. She watches our newly paved streets upon which the neighborhood children ride their bikes, skates and home-made boards. Neighbor across the street meets her half way between their country mansions. I shall meet them there under our very blue evening sky. I bid thee all a good night.