tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-280557912024-03-19T02:31:58.602-07:00The WatchersThis is a book blog. We publish flash fiction, poetry and writing tips.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger1007125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28055791.post-23691368078087843652018-08-24T15:49:00.004-07:002018-08-24T15:49:57.757-07:00A Political Poem ... Of sorts: It All Got Crazy Somehow<h2 style="text-align: center;">
It All Got Crazy Somehow</h2>
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<br /></div>
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You know what I did, </div>
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What I did today?</div>
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I tried really hard,</div>
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Really hard to pray;</div>
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Pray for the anger,</div>
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And pray for the hate,</div>
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Pray for the people,</div>
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Whose words we ate;</div>
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I don’t think it did much good—</div>
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My prayer</div>
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<br /></div>
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And the people have ears,</div>
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That cannot hear;</div>
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They have eyes</div>
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That cannot see.</div>
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There are only two sides,</div>
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Two sides so few.</div>
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One side is right</div>
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And the other, too</div>
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Their hearts are mad</div>
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Their minds are on fire</div>
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<br /></div>
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There is no answer to satisfy,</div>
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The minds that are on fire;</div>
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The eyes that cannot see</div>
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The hearts in sinking mire</div>
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<br /></div>
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There was peace once,</div>
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Once in the Garden</div>
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But deception came,</div>
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And it all got harder.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
The Singer sang,</div>
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“Creation is tired, and my children are angry</div>
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They hate, </div>
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They’re sad, </div>
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And painfully mad, </div>
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Homicidal</div>
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Suicidal, </div>
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What have they done?”</div>
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Is anyone willing? </div>
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Yes, even one</div>
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To remember the cross</div>
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And what was done?</div>
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<br /></div>
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“And my children return;</div>
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Return to dust.”</div>
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<br /></div>
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“Where are my children?” </div>
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The Singer asks.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
“Where are my children—the true and just?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">(Copyright 2018 by Deborah L. Alten)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOJ98Z8nhZrdnj_dqB3esEcQY8c6agzhhanMQQc8Nxxd6kYaKn2LWYEUzjlgMxjiKuVYAJMfwnPDUKikbqSdBgZw09f2-GInkxDMx0QwNYxTaLq-CK6QsROjWiXyYC4X62plSk/s1600/thunderstorm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="960" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOJ98Z8nhZrdnj_dqB3esEcQY8c6agzhhanMQQc8Nxxd6kYaKn2LWYEUzjlgMxjiKuVYAJMfwnPDUKikbqSdBgZw09f2-GInkxDMx0QwNYxTaLq-CK6QsROjWiXyYC4X62plSk/s320/thunderstorm.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28055791.post-15705128404507378712017-04-10T00:23:00.000-07:002017-04-10T01:58:52.521-07:00Easter: A Horror Story<div style="text-align: center;">
<h2>
<span style="font-size: large;">Blood On My Hands</span></h2>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<h3>
by <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Deborah-L.-Alten/e/B00EBWE4KA/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0" target="_blank">Deborah L. Alten</a></h3>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOq-Y4897kazKdnZ-pySYwAjgtDH5sGN1rWD_5oXLGkS2HlAmRR9931FdkaKradZmZ8y2iUz6Hk-RzvQKTJ5cXvp6p93Fwp-iTtvUmNgj5jYnbImINbLyuQgBBVPgX29O4-bV6/s1600/Easter+Crosses+with+Skull.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOq-Y4897kazKdnZ-pySYwAjgtDH5sGN1rWD_5oXLGkS2HlAmRR9931FdkaKradZmZ8y2iUz6Hk-RzvQKTJ5cXvp6p93Fwp-iTtvUmNgj5jYnbImINbLyuQgBBVPgX29O4-bV6/s320/Easter+Crosses+with+Skull.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">There’s blood in the courtyard, creeping into every crevice. A living force swirls it in all directions, gradually covering every stone till it slithers among the white lilies. An eerie hush envelops the garden withering within the shadows cast by three rugged crosses. </span></div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large; text-align: justify;">Walking through the courtyard, I tremble as my eyes follow a path of bloody footprints. Above me a mourning dove sings, then flutters its wings but remains perched; her cooing song haunts the dusk-like hours.</span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">From noon till three the sun had stopped shining. The darkness had taken our breath away. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">“I think we killed an innocent man today,” I whisper. “But my orders were to—”</span></div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">“There’s so much blood, so much blood.” In the growing shadows a woman crawls on hands and knees, disturbing the pool of blood.</span></div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I hang my head. Shame can choke a guilty man. </span></div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">She sobs, her tears dripping into the pool. Each tear, sparkling in twilight, splatters spots of red on her dress. It doesn’t matter, she’s already stained. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“You knew this man?” </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">She looks at me with sad eyes. “Yes, He was my Son. But not really.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-size: large;">I raise my eyebrows. “Why did He let me … let them do that to Him?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-size: large;">Slowly she stands to her feet and examines the cuts on my hand. I flinch. There’s a thorn embedded in the flesh near my thumb. I look away as she masterfully removes it. She smiles as she returns to her impossible task. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>There’s not enough rags,</i> I think, <i>or enough buckets.</i> “Leave it,” I tell her. “I’ll take care of it.”</span></div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">In the cool of the evening, having failed to clean the courtyard, I take a long walk to the place of the Skull. No amount of water could have washed His blood off my hands. It stuck, it burnt, it outlined my fingernails. I don’t like how His death is affecting me. “Let it go,” I mumble. “He was just another man.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">As I struggle up the hill a daunting breeze fights with my newly-assigned cloak: A gift for my first kill. It’s a guilt offering. Maybe I’ll leave it at the foot of His cross. I wonder if anyone will remember Him? </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">As I near the Skull I watch someone taking His lifeless body off the blood-soaked cypress. The wind rustles the one part of his loincloth that isn’t sticking to his flesh by oozing blood. I take a deep breath, keeping my distance. My heart beats through the walls of its chambers as I remember His words: “Father, forgive them. They don’t know what they’re doing.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">My ears are ringing. It’s deafening. I can still hear the echo of the hammer hitting the nails. I pierced his hands and drilled through his feet. "No!" I sigh.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Were you … are you the Son of God?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Yes.” </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">It was a still small voice but it knocks me off my feet, down the hill and into the wild brambles. The thorns pierce my flesh. I moan. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The way home feels unfamiliar. My shadow seems disconnected or there’s a second person walking beside me—invisible? Did I hammer the nails into the Son of God? Is there a greater sin?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-size: large;">Each tree I pass reminds me of Him: Every cypress, cedar, and pine shudder; spindly arms shooting out ready to devour me, laboriously uprooting themselves. I run, stumbling through creeping shadows, as a red moon rises. A raven caws, bringing an end to a day of infamy. It is finished.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The world will never be the same. What will I do with His blood on my hands?</span></div>
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</span> <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">~~*~~</span></div>
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<img alt="Religious Easter Comments" border="0" src="http://magickalgraphics.com/Graphics/SpecialOccasions/Easter/Religious/easterjesus10.gif" height="200" width="175" /></a><div style="text-align: left;">
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And it was about the sixth hour, and there was a darkness over all the earth until the ninth hour. And the sun was darkened, and the veil of the temple was rent in the midst. And when Jesus had cried with a loud voice, he said, <span style="color: red;">Father into thy hands I commend my spirit: </span>and having said thus he gave up the ghost. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Now when the centurion saw what was done, he glorified God, saying, Certainly this was a righteous man. (<span style="text-align: left;">Luke 23:44-47)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Please click below for more</span></center>
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<span style="font-size: large;">of my flash fiction chronicles </span></center>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> available on Kindle.</span></center>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></center>
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00DTVCZNW" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">Short Tales of Secret Worlds</span></a></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00RNQ6U9Y" target="_blank">Mrs. Shackles</a></span></center>
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<br /></center>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">~~*~~</span></center>
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My Easter Poem: The King On A Cross<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/e0ugczEveGc" width="560"></iframe>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28055791.post-78111543925870824872017-03-02T16:10:00.000-08:002017-03-02T16:10:05.522-08:00Free Flash Fiction: Where Dragons Live<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFXFWguq6SFDAekLGNMqRuJvguB3wI_PHytJhl1K9lyvh8GMT0ls8njvJixkMk54iuBarXSsDKWzOJHyI5BWaR-ZpjyxXqU82FUcEHauh3AXeyPYrPV8cRNeTok15XqKPWxhM7/s1600/dragon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFXFWguq6SFDAekLGNMqRuJvguB3wI_PHytJhl1K9lyvh8GMT0ls8njvJixkMk54iuBarXSsDKWzOJHyI5BWaR-ZpjyxXqU82FUcEHauh3AXeyPYrPV8cRNeTok15XqKPWxhM7/s320/dragon.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">by Deborah L. Alten</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“There are no more dragons, sir.” Gha’enna caressed the
innkeeper’s face with the back of her sun-bronzed fingers. “Perhaps you’d be so
kind as to pour me a pint of ale, slice me a piece of bread, and spare me a
bowl of warm stew.” Her lips were close to his, her nimble fingers unfastened
the buttons of his disheveled shirt. “Here’s me last few pence.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He trembled at
the mere touch of her skin on his. “Keep it.” His voice a quiver. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">She threw a
bloody tether onto a table and brushed off the crumbs. Her green eyes fixed on
the inn keeper. Never trust a man who … Well … never trust a man.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The stale bread, dipped in warm stew, satisfied her hunger …
for the moment. She washed it down with badly-brewed ale. Suddenly she slapped
one hand onto the coiled-up tether as she pinched her throat with the other.
She grinned nervously at the inn keeper who raised an eyebrow. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“I smell a
dragon.” The innkeeper grabbed a knife. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“I told you, sir. There are no more
dragons. You would call a lady a liar?” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He stood frozen, mesmerized, as
moonlight danced through her long red hair. And that smile rendered him
powerless. There was nothing he could do but stare. She knew he believed every word
that fell from her lips. “Forgive me. Ne’er would I call a lady by such a
name.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Indeed.” From the corner of the dimly-lit tavern, a figure rose from
the darkness. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">His voice was like a rushing wind and deeply disturbed Gha’enna. She jumped at the first sound of it. The voice seemed familiar, but she placed
no memory to it. A heavy black and bloodstained cloak covered him. His face not
visible. The innkeeper cowered behind the bar. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The man crept closer. “You would
not call <i>a lady</i> a liar?” He turned to Gha’enna. “She is no lady, Innkeeper.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Gha’enna held tight the tether. She backed away from both of them.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The man adjusted his cloak as he made his way around broken chairs
and spilt ale, toward her. “Where have the dragons gone, my Lady?” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“I have
slain them all.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“All?” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Have your eyes seen them then? Where and when have you
seen one?” The tether in her hand stiffened. Again she touched her throat; an
attempt to dislodge something she could not quite swallow. Her eyes searched
for his, to no avail. She coughed as she gasped for that extra breath of air. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Innkeeper, has she blinded you with her beauty? Her words, or perhaps the
sweetness of her lips has held you captive.” His gloved hand appeared from
under his cloak. Chainmail rattled beneath it. “She makes fools of men, and her
paths lead to spirits of the dead. At night she stands at forbidden doors. Do
you not see the dragon?” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“I only see her,” said the innkeeper.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Gha’enna giggled. Then unexpectedly she flung the tether
across the room. It coiled around the innkeeper’s neck and tossed him high
above the tables. An horrific, wicked growl tore the roof off the tavern. One
blood-curdling scream and the innkeeper’s feet dropped with a splat into a
puddle of his own blood. The other parts of his shredded body, burned, then
swallowed or trickled like bloody crumbs onto the dirt floor. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The knight
unsheathed his sword against the fury of dragon fire, but Gha’enna’s red wings
carried her away before he could plunge it into her cold heart.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">~from <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00DTVCZNW" target="_blank">Short Tales of Secret Worlds</a></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">**</span>(<i>This book is FREE till March 4th</i>)**</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28055791.post-11042142266145609292016-02-11T12:38:00.000-08:002016-05-18T14:12:26.351-07:00Her Bloody Valentine: A Mrs. Shackles Adventure<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZmCEjg_7Etguk_5tbqHLRAT_ZC4m4_mySz9yeQq1TzSfPQyVP0q-iKFgR6I1Z07uIqk-WKJ5QWNsOrv2oUhC28-yzDgaCEg113Gbs7VyK4MfNZ6rWJVkFghjhsSlmpEIN-nhi/s1600/cottage+haunted.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZmCEjg_7Etguk_5tbqHLRAT_ZC4m4_mySz9yeQq1TzSfPQyVP0q-iKFgR6I1Z07uIqk-WKJ5QWNsOrv2oUhC28-yzDgaCEg113Gbs7VyK4MfNZ6rWJVkFghjhsSlmpEIN-nhi/s320/cottage+haunted.png" width="320" /></a></div>
Deep in the forest, near the bend of the river, a man, under hood and cloak, trudged over a stone bridge dragging a scythe. The wind followed him through the front door of a dilapidated cottage into a candle-lit living room. <br />
<br />
Fourteen-year old Oliver Krankston, the banker’s son, cowered against the clay wall. Uncomfortable in his faded long johns and saggy woolen socks, the boy trembled. He squinted toward the flickering flames. “Mr. Fetters,” he whispered, “did you find him?” <br />
<br />
Mr. Fetters shook his head. “No.” <br />
<br />
On the wooden floorboards a long trail of bloody footprints glistened in the soft glow. Mr. Fetters tossed a few logs onto the fireplace while coughing up blood and vile. “Get to sleepin’.” His words were slurred.<br />
<br />
“Why did you take me?"<br />
<br />
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“Your father owes me his life. I’m collecting.”<br />
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Oliver opened the palm of his hand, unfolding a crumpled-up paper Valentine—from Lily Payne, it said. He hoped she had received the one he sent her. There might have been blood on it. <i>Maybe she’ll rescue me</i>.<br />
<br />
“Don’t fear, child.” Mr. Fetters flung his black cloak over the scythe propped against the stove. “She might just care enough to take your place.”<br />
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Oliver quickly put all thoughts of Lily out of his head. “You can’t have her!” <br />
<br />
Later that evening, a pounding on the door startled Oliver out of a restless sleep. The door almost creaked off its hinges as Mr. Fetters opened it. <br />
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“Mrs. Shackles and … Lily Payne? A pleasant surprise.” <br />
<br />
Mrs. Shackles shoved a shoebox into his hands. “Give me the boy!” <br />
<br />
“Only if you have his father in this shoebox.”<br />
<br />
“I do.”<br />
<br />
Mr. Fetters raised his eyebrows and opened the box. He recognized the banker’s hand. His displeasure became obvious as he flung the box into the snow. “He was mine!” he bellowed. “The boy stays!”<br />
<br />
“No!” Lily wrapped her tattered blanket tighter around herself and shoved her way into the cottage. “I am here to take his place.” <br />
<br />
Snow cascaded off the roof as the cottage rattled on its foundation. <br />
<br />
“Mr. Fetters,” Mrs. Shackles’s eyes widened, her head slightly tilted, “you do not want to mess with that girl.” She hobbled inside, shaking her head and rubbing her chin. “Oh, she’ll be a burden to live with if you make a hero out of her.” <br />
<br />
“You think I won’t keep them both?”<br />
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Mrs. Shackles grinned. She straightened up and raised both arms out to each side. Two large, black wings slowly tore through from the lower part of her back. The right wing was frayed. And then … a loud piercing scream broke through the howling wind. Two bodies slammed through the door, finally blasting it off its hinges. Lily and Oliver picked up the scythe together and crept out the back. <br />
<br />
Dark, spiny wings squeezed tight around Mr. Fetters. He gasped, but she had caught him off guard. Just before his last breath Mrs. Shackles released him into the river creating a large and loud splash.<br />
<br />
Turning over and over, his cloak cocooned him and carried him downstream.<br />
<br />
Mrs. Shackles tossed the severed hand into the murky water. “All you had to do was take it.” <br />
<br />
Oliver squinted into the waters. “Is that my—”<br />
<br />
“No, child,” Mrs. Shackles said. She blew out a painful breath. “It’s just a hand. Can’t quite remember whose father was attached to it.”<br />
<br />
Lily wrapped her tattered blanket around Mrs. Shackles. “Let’s go home.”<br />
“Yes, let’s.” Mrs. Shackles picked up the scythe. “Ah, there it is. I thought I had lost it forever.”<br />
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<center>
<a href="http://astore.amazon.com/sarahlayne03-20/detail/B00RNQ6U9Y" target="_blank">Find out what else Mrs. Shackles has been up to? </a><br />
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<br />
<br />
<br />
"Mrs. Shackles: Her Bloody Valentine"<br />
Copyright, 2016 by Deborah L. Alten (yep, that's me)<br />
<a href="mailto:DebbyAlten7@gmail.com">DebbyAlten7@gmail.com</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://s51.photobucket.com/albums/f390/gtargirl/signatures/?action=view&current=DebSigAngelicWar.png" target="_blank"><img alt="Debby A." border="0" src="http://i51.photobucket.com/albums/f390/gtargirl/signatures/DebSigAngelicWar.png" /></a><br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/IMxWMfShj4g" width="420"></iframe><br />
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<br />
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<br />
<li><a href="http://technorati.com/tag/YA+Horror" rel="tag">YA Horror</a> <a href="http://technorati.com/tag/not+gory+horror" rel="tag">not gory horror</a></li>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Mrs. Shackles says to buy your loved ones some <a href="http://astore.amazon.com/sarahlayne03-20?_encoding=UTF8&node=12" target="_blank">chocolate for Valentine's Day</a>.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbGkZQbnBmsoUD1D1xkEm4_kr71r4NgmbUPng6pzNgWRNckdyyu24jtx1Y-a5WweXbq5sGclEykQmbwX5RBRFlAsnRuSWp5i3Pf81yEVoq9EWxzPg-BcnhSAiMg6zQ62s11_Qv/s1600/valentine+chocolate+keys.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbGkZQbnBmsoUD1D1xkEm4_kr71r4NgmbUPng6pzNgWRNckdyyu24jtx1Y-a5WweXbq5sGclEykQmbwX5RBRFlAsnRuSWp5i3Pf81yEVoq9EWxzPg-BcnhSAiMg6zQ62s11_Qv/s1600/valentine+chocolate+keys.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://astore.amazon.com/sarahlayne03-20/detail/B004IJ05YU" target="_blank">Gourmet Valentine Chocolate Keys</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtYsleMDRQGRIJ1Xth6qy0eHx_X-i3YfNKfOP8oMNwVuL_0ZIahk03VLf5CguF4JWPjmrCsgqnbj8iJ6n3toxiTL-SsRaEBNvt-c06LYs9OZ8y10JKGSoPN0CBRZENrCb3wG6g/s1600/Valentine+chocolate+hearts.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtYsleMDRQGRIJ1Xth6qy0eHx_X-i3YfNKfOP8oMNwVuL_0ZIahk03VLf5CguF4JWPjmrCsgqnbj8iJ6n3toxiTL-SsRaEBNvt-c06LYs9OZ8y10JKGSoPN0CBRZENrCb3wG6g/s1600/Valentine+chocolate+hearts.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://astore.amazon.com/sarahlayne03-20/detail/B001QA2Q8M" target="_blank">9 Chocolate Hearts</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28055791.post-32747455513449071592014-08-22T14:57:00.000-07:002014-08-22T15:05:21.223-07:00Dear God ... A Poem<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN2RP3ZsToQrEc-db02utT-GkablPRboGV6jEzZd-N8VTdNPyQnAjCpmazPIEoXrJuW27waQfC07aZp7t1wxHkAJdowWXWEuMpJI_5yYA_MUnZ5RgwjIXd_1Io0XwuulY9oImj/s1600/Dear+God.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN2RP3ZsToQrEc-db02utT-GkablPRboGV6jEzZd-N8VTdNPyQnAjCpmazPIEoXrJuW27waQfC07aZp7t1wxHkAJdowWXWEuMpJI_5yYA_MUnZ5RgwjIXd_1Io0XwuulY9oImj/s1600/Dear+God.png" height="640" width="616" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://s51.photobucket.com/albums/f390/gtargirl/signatures/?action=view&current=DebSigAngelicWar.png" target="_blank"><img alt="Debby A." border="0" src="http://i51.photobucket.com/albums/f390/gtargirl/signatures/DebSigAngelicWar.png" /></a> <br />
<a href="http://technorati.com/tag/Christian+Poetry" rel="tag">Christian Poetry</a> <a href="http://technorati.com/tag/God+Letter" rel="tag">God Letters</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28055791.post-31209815525411361162014-07-26T20:39:00.001-07:002014-07-26T20:43:43.326-07:00She Flies: A Poem to Honor the Bluebird<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiowOY3ezss9MvfrfZma_D-WnV52aDD-GxYE5jb-5d1lgXBDPDT14CB8YPUXJn50FV1lr306dO4ruqYva_GTJRTIJsbH0syi71vEbwTlGRDgQqwNhVMH3lJuAGyUcZniwqhQOOX/s1600/Bluebird+by+Debbie+Rose+McEachern.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiowOY3ezss9MvfrfZma_D-WnV52aDD-GxYE5jb-5d1lgXBDPDT14CB8YPUXJn50FV1lr306dO4ruqYva_GTJRTIJsbH0syi71vEbwTlGRDgQqwNhVMH3lJuAGyUcZniwqhQOOX/s1600/Bluebird+by+Debbie+Rose+McEachern.jpg" height="223" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
When shadows shift</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
When snow first falls</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
She sits alone:</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
A bluebird calls</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The Branches sway</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Winter's breeze so cold</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Snow swirls to rain</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Her distress unfolds</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Shall she be brave;</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Fly through the storms?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Night shadows twist</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
To horrid forms</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
How will she fare</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
When moonbeams flicker?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
How will she dare</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
When sleet turns thicker?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Once more she cries</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Though echoes fail</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
She bears her soul</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
On wings she'll sail</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
An eagle's span ...</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
She flies</div>
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<a href="http://s51.photobucket.com/albums/f390/gtargirl/signatures/?action=view&current=DebSigAngelicWar.png" target="_blank"><img alt="Debby A." border="0" src="http://i51.photobucket.com/albums/f390/gtargirl/signatures/DebSigAngelicWar.png" /></a> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Copyright, 2014 by Deborah L. Alten</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">photograph by Debbie McEachern</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28055791.post-52209704012514846372014-07-25T14:45:00.001-07:002014-07-25T14:51:13.241-07:00End of the Night<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRifTnGrMw-Gku3tTXeqsoTtOy4ui-Z5RmPtuJ_dy4w5pkEO7xtz-0iqG_PJfsBUvDGpfImMXmnCd1wU0fVhg0ydYuII0adDMjeVX8ZRMbcMVEyQ31z50ZwR4IjuAC1FU3VgSF/s1600/800px-Makelessnoise_-_Bad_Moon_Rising_(by).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRifTnGrMw-Gku3tTXeqsoTtOy4ui-Z5RmPtuJ_dy4w5pkEO7xtz-0iqG_PJfsBUvDGpfImMXmnCd1wU0fVhg0ydYuII0adDMjeVX8ZRMbcMVEyQ31z50ZwR4IjuAC1FU3VgSF/s1600/800px-Makelessnoise_-_Bad_Moon_Rising_(by).jpg" height="220" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
Drops of moonlight cascade from the world above.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Water reflects and turns into stardust.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It's the time of night when worlds collide and surrender to each other.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Her fingers trace the moonlight as the water parts, soothing her soul.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
She drifts into the silver hues of the painted sky;</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It is the end of her.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The night is now adrift, moonlight fades to dawn</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
A shower of silver stars deflect to the other side.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The memories of dreams caress the lesser light.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Dusty streaks of sunlight filter through curtains of autumn leaves,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Wafting on morning breezes.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
She sings with the sparrow,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And laments with the coo of a mourning dove.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It's the time of day when worlds separate;</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
When the sun softly greets the horizon.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It is the end of her.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
In the distance she hears the hum of city shrills,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Engines sputter to life on overcrowded streets. A siren screams.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And finally she whispers: …</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"I don't exist here anymore."</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Her light disconnects from this world,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
She fades into day.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It is the end of her.</div>
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/" rel="license"><img alt="Creative Commons License" src="https://i.creativecommons.org/l/by-nc-sa/4.0/88x31.png" style="border-width: 0;" /></a><br />
This work is licensed under a<br />
<a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/" rel="license">Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License</a>.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://s51.photobucket.com/albums/f390/gtargirl/signatures/?action=view&current=DebSigAngelicWar.png" target="_blank"><img alt="Debby A." border="0" src="http://i51.photobucket.com/albums/f390/gtargirl/signatures/DebSigAngelicWar.png" /></a><br />
First published <br />
Deborah L. Alten, Yahoo Contributor Network<br />
Dec 3, 2013<br />
<br />
photo by MakeLessNoise<br />
Wikimedia Commons<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28055791.post-89581129688324033162014-02-14T23:12:00.000-08:002014-02-14T00:05:56.075-08:00Dance Over Sea and Under Moon: An Elvin Romance<span style="font-size: small;"><i>(A Valentine's Poem by Andy Poole)</i></span><br />
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<center>
<span font="" style="font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: large;">The heavenly shroud lifted,<br />
And the starry host peered down<br />
At a dancer well-gifted <br />
With nimble steps of renown.<br />
<br />
Waves of cascading black hair<br />
Skipped and swayed to the cadence<br />
Of bangles round ankles bare<br />
And the Sea’s hushed ambience.<br />
<br />
No song sang she, only danced<br />
To a secret song unsung,<br />
Shared by he that she romanced,<br />
Who danced, too, with silent tongue.<br />
<br />
His sylvan hair moonlight caught<br />
His sea-grey eyes knew one face<br />
That moment, his only thought,<br />
This jewel of elven-race.</span></center>
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<br />
copyright, 2014 by <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Adventures-of-Adrian-Barrow/112777502166715" target="_blank">Andy Poole</a><br />
image by <a href="http://s838.photobucket.com/user/kalytle7/profile/" target="_blank">Kimberly Lytle </a><br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://technorati.com/tag/Valentine%27s+Day" rel="tag">Valentine's Day</a> <a href="http://technorati.com/tag/Elvin+Romance" rel="tag">Elvin Romance</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28055791.post-31979575177268393372014-01-19T10:46:00.002-08:002014-01-19T11:07:53.610-08:00My "Speed Limit" Birthday and My Top Ten Most Wanted Birthday Gifts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVno9Xc_1rtBdS29zBrUX4iGHbIMjC5p2Z4vahcOiCpSPMx4jfJ04AkOMTg7CoAi4M5M_pnIMGW83bMp2Ch2IN2T1uErFEXZ19IzV9oXN-DuooEgXMoFOIJKowtIrUhB0N_gry/s1600/blue+sweater.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVno9Xc_1rtBdS29zBrUX4iGHbIMjC5p2Z4vahcOiCpSPMx4jfJ04AkOMTg7CoAi4M5M_pnIMGW83bMp2Ch2IN2T1uErFEXZ19IzV9oXN-DuooEgXMoFOIJKowtIrUhB0N_gry/s1600/blue+sweater.jpg" /></a></div>
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Today I've reached that milestone. Apparently 55 is the speed limit birthday. Who knew? But that's what they're telling me on Facebook. It's going to be a very peaceful birthday--no party, no guests (just the dog), no presents and that's all right with me. I got to do 30 situps before the dog jumped me and decided we needed to run around in the garden. Ah, good times.</div>
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So in my quiet time I've decided to publish my Top Ten Most Wanted Birthday Gifts. This of course, will be the Not of This World List. LOL.</div>
<br />
<br />
<u><i><b><span style="color: #134f5c;">Top Ten BD Gifts</span></b></i></u><br />
<b><span style="color: #134f5c;"></span></b><br />
10. 50 lbs. of See's Candy (chocolate nuts and chews)<br />
9. Hummer !!! A big YELLOW one with a black stripe on the sides<br />
8. A Castle somewhere in England<br />
7. A summer cottage in England near a river<br />
6. A Cruise to anywhere<br />
5. A Trip to Italy<br />
4. To be a size 10 again<br />
3. To be debt free<br />
2. That all my friends send me $1 <br />
Here, I'll make it easy for you. <br />
<input alt="PayPal - The safer, easier way to pay online!" border="0" name="submit" src="https://www.paypalobjects.com/en_US/i/btn/btn_donateCC_LG.gif" type="image" /><br />
<form action="https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr" method="post" target="_blank">
<img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="https://www.paypalobjects.com/en_US/i/scr/pixel.gif" width="1" /></form>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>And Number 1</b></span>. For my kids to be truly happy and to be extremely successful and to love God with all their heart because that will indeed bring true happiness and success. <br />
<br />
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<span style="color: #38761d;"><span style="font-size: large;">*********</span></span></div>
<br />
There you have it. I am truly blessed with wonderful friends, and an amazing family. We have come this far, but the journey has miles to go and I'm glad you're with me on this path. <br />
<br />
ps: Don't forget number 2. Just sayin'!!!!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEa1D9bgdzij4WlMtNEYFj5Cv7Ap2EpCxMEzgPtPR0fCumrmOxQJICQ80d_S4yEiCkwIGEoMqfF32sfHG4drcAs3L8lve1WUt7923rJEH35eTmnPe-uha2pVMgdpxucTgeErCU/s1600/happy+new+year.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEa1D9bgdzij4WlMtNEYFj5Cv7Ap2EpCxMEzgPtPR0fCumrmOxQJICQ80d_S4yEiCkwIGEoMqfF32sfHG4drcAs3L8lve1WUt7923rJEH35eTmnPe-uha2pVMgdpxucTgeErCU/s1600/happy+new+year.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
My Scripture for the new year is Psalms 121:<br />
<br />
A song of ascents (or The Traveler's Psalm)<br />
<br />
1 I lift up my eyes to the mountains—<br />
where does my help come from?<br />
2 My help comes from the Lord,<br />
the Maker of heaven and earth.<br />
<br />
3 He will not let your foot slip—<br />
he who watches over you will not slumber;<br />
4 indeed, he who watches over Israel<br />
will neither slumber nor sleep.<br />
<br />
5 The Lord watches over you—<br />
the Lord is your shade at your right hand;<br />
6 the sun will not harm you by day,<br />
nor the moon by night.<br />
<br />
7 The Lord will keep you from all harm—<br />
he will watch over your life;<br />
8 the Lord will watch over your coming and going<br />
both now and forevermore.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://s51.photobucket.com/albums/f390/gtargirl/signatures/?action=view&current=DebSigAngelicWar.png" target="_blank"><img alt="Debby A." border="0" src="http://i51.photobucket.com/albums/f390/gtargirl/signatures/DebSigAngelicWar.png" /></a> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28055791.post-89939262873479404652013-11-24T10:33:00.000-08:002013-11-24T10:45:36.659-08:00Flash Fiction: Ten Stories in One for Kindle Books, Just 99centsTHE GATEKEEPER'S PRELUDE<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMZl6sfIQMIa41wVeZbtpGD8yO4yyuTvmF3cz_JIqK5SsM49f7Q6QQiCt0gkL6PIKIXqtK0pqiWVumAM_GFILp7tnijpA_XSk9hpwrgPj5I_A-5gjbceQgErfXHmvhXsHa_6Hl/s1600/Ezra+Gimped.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMZl6sfIQMIa41wVeZbtpGD8yO4yyuTvmF3cz_JIqK5SsM49f7Q6QQiCt0gkL6PIKIXqtK0pqiWVumAM_GFILp7tnijpA_XSk9hpwrgPj5I_A-5gjbceQgErfXHmvhXsHa_6Hl/s1600/Ezra+Gimped.png" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It’s cold this morning on <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00DTVCZNW/ref=as_li_tf_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B00DTVCZNW&linkCode=as2&tag=sarahlayne-20" target="_blank">Eámanë</a>--a little unusual for this time of year, but not unexpected. Our realm, the last one before Heaven itself, has darkened. Eámanë has inched closer to the Ninth Gate, better known as Black Hole #32206445. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Recently, a reddish mist has emerged from it and the Ninth Gate might open and swallow us whole. It hasn’t yet, but it is a tale worth writing about. After all, it's what I do: observe, protect (those who let us), and to write down the history of each planet, world, and universe. I am the Gatekeeper, one of 300. The scrolls of every world, even yours, is at the tip of my pen. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Of course, if we should sink into the Ninth Gate, all the tales we’ve written are lost. Therefore I shall leave some of the scrolls with you. Keep them safe, these tales of secret worlds. Some say, they might even contain the history of an alternative world that never was. We dare to differ. </div><br />
<span style="color: #38761d;">~~ <i>Sincerely,</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #38761d;"><i>Ezra, 7th GateKeeper of Eámanë</i></span><br />
<br />
<iframe frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/cm?t=sarahlayne-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=B00DTVCZNW&ref=tf_til&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=B10000&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="height: 240px; width: 120px;"></iframe><br />
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<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Free Chapters</i></span><br />
<a href="http://voices.yahoo.com/flash-fiction-beneath-blithe-silver-moonlight-12021636.html?cat=44" target="_blank">Beneath the Blight of Silver Moonlight </a><br />
<a href="http://voices.yahoo.com/light-world-11935175.html?cat=44" target="_blank">Light of the World: A Christmas Story</a><br />
<a href="http://voices.yahoo.com/flash-fiction-knights-armor-11810722.html?cat=44" target="_blank">The Whisperer's Daughter</a><br />
<br />
<br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28055791.post-85364030132372928552013-10-28T18:13:00.000-07:002013-10-30T12:16:42.752-07:00It's Halloween Flash Fiction Story Time: Mrs. Shackles' Pumpkin Patch<a href="//www.pinterest.com/pin/create/button/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fgtargirls.blogspot.com%2F2013%2F10%2Fits-halloween-flash-fiction-story-time.html&media=http%3A%2F%2F1.bp.blogspot.com%2F-kKzdWPdyS4w%2FUm8RVVYniFI%2FAAAAAAAAFT8%2FXsf5oMAS2m4%2Fs400%2FThree%2BBloody%2BPumpkins%2Bgimped.jpg&description=Halloween%20Flash%20Fiction%3A%20Mrs.%20Shackles%26%23x27%3B%20Pumpkin%20Patch" data-pin-do="buttonPin" data-pin-config="beside"><img src="//assets.pinterest.com/images/pidgets/pin_it_button.png" /></a><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-5ev9e037lBYiB2HCKZQLH9vd2ZKK0_4bVD4GDgc3kcBJ1Y5l2qcXqNOxloDEVXXgr86AC5sdpQ3FCjVCBxFskxg_5amLz5q-pUcrEf1eY5TQ7u8d-zWZChR6V8sf0o1x4i91/s1600/Mrs.+Shackles+cartoon+transparent+from+generator.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-5ev9e037lBYiB2HCKZQLH9vd2ZKK0_4bVD4GDgc3kcBJ1Y5l2qcXqNOxloDEVXXgr86AC5sdpQ3FCjVCBxFskxg_5amLz5q-pUcrEf1eY5TQ7u8d-zWZChR6V8sf0o1x4i91/s1600/Mrs.+Shackles+cartoon+transparent+from+generator.png" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The ground beneath Lucy Shackles’ pumpkin patch was unusually hot and dry for Autumn. Lucy Shackles stomped her heels releasing pockets of foul air. “Small harvest,” she grumbled and picked up a handful of soil. “Need better fertilizer.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">When evening fell, vines shuddered, and earth’s groans ascended from the pumpkin patch; ghoulish giggles echoed into the night sky ’till a loud knock rattled Mrs. Shackles’ cottage. When she opened the door, a long shadow loomed onto her wooden floor.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Hello, Mrs. Shackles.” A tall, thin boy stepped out of the darkness. His red hair too stringy; his head too big. “I’m Jack.” He shook off crumbs of dirt and wisps of mist. “Small crop this year.” Jack lifted his lantern. </div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">“Just need one pumpkin.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Yes, and who shall I carve it for?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Lily.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Jack crunched his eyebrows. “And Lily is …?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“You’ll see in the morning.” Mrs. Shackles hurried Jack off her porch and watched him shuffle into the pumpkin patch. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">When the sun rose, costumed children ran about in a sea of orange. Mrs. Shackles trudged through waves of little goblins, witches and elves and found Jack playing tag with them. “Jack! Did you carve a pumpkin for Lily?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Of course!” Jack pointed to a pumpkin, with two hollow eyes and a triangle nose, grinning a toothy smile. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Well, that’s not scary at all. Kindda looks like you.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Jack shrugged his shoulders. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">At sunset, when all the children had gone, Mrs. Shackles and Jack sat on the steps of the porch.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“No Lily, Mrs. Shackles?” Jack tilted his head; apple cider dribbling from his lips. “Who is she anyhow?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Dr. Payne’s ten-year-old daughter. … Such a beautiful child. He claims she’s very clumsy. His way of explaining her bruises, cuts, and broken bones. ‘Lily crashed into a glass window,’ he says, ‘and fell out of it too.’”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Dr. Payne?” Jack sighed. “ The dentist?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Just then a shiny new sedan rolled into the driveway. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Speak of the devil,” Lucy Shackles muttered. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The dentist, a husky man, opened the door and yanked out a little girl. She fell on her knees and cried, wiping blood from her nose. When she spotted the pumpkin patch, she held back the tears. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi1OsgZFd-rhZRU5ZFqyTRjQBaMykkaCbmsypp5VY7_xHEqlOUmifR2NW3KvYXCT8hp8ltpOEZ7BzmaK3pzYWXmrWS2ptsSnsJqGIfTk3CONoQyFzhfvnWl1p9XlknAcFxW6Kc/s1600/Lily+transparent+from+generator.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi1OsgZFd-rhZRU5ZFqyTRjQBaMykkaCbmsypp5VY7_xHEqlOUmifR2NW3KvYXCT8hp8ltpOEZ7BzmaK3pzYWXmrWS2ptsSnsJqGIfTk3CONoQyFzhfvnWl1p9XlknAcFxW6Kc/s400/Lily+transparent+from+generator.png" width="312" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">“Pumpkins!” She dusted herself off and stumbled into the pumpkin patch. “See Daddy, I didn’t make us late.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Jack skipped toward her; Mrs. Shackles followed. “You must be Lily.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">With little scarred hands, Lily covered the bruise on her neck. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Dr. Payne cleared his throat. “We just came for a pumpkin, and we’ll be on our way.” </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“That pumpkin?” Jack raised his eyebrows.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Yes, we’ll take it.” The dentist reached for his wallet. “How much?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“It’s not for sale.” </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Lily bowed her head. “It’s not?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Mrs. Shackles grabbed Lily’s hand. “Come inside, Lily. I’ve got a special pumpkin just for you, and some warm cider too.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Alone in the pumpkin patch with Jack, Dr. Payne’s knees became very wobbly as Jack’s eyes lit up like flames and smiled a toothy smile. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">By the time Lily and Mrs. Shackles walked through the door of the cottage, Jack’s pumpkin had tasted blood. Vines wrapped around Dr. Payne’s mouth so he couldn’t scream; around his neck so he couldn’t breathe; around his arms and legs so his bones would break. Then the ground imploded and swallowed him whole. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Wait for me!” Jack picked up his lantern. “Bye, Mrs. Shackles! “twill be a better crop next year!” He leapt through the air and dove into the hungry soil. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Mrs. Shackles sang a happy tune as Jack’s ghoulish giggles faded away. “See you next year, Jack.” </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihObRZ44eKzDuAIanZhzOD10pYSdy0nIgfFaqaDEtFlz9HbwMt65maV9n09_QdOeznN0pzLGqZi0wtL1c3Gs_EJKzeTOH1WES3m8G-I-Gx_iKfc6ByolN6j_oP5dgkicsj68CS/s1600/Three+Bloody+Pumpkins+gimped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihObRZ44eKzDuAIanZhzOD10pYSdy0nIgfFaqaDEtFlz9HbwMt65maV9n09_QdOeznN0pzLGqZi0wtL1c3Gs_EJKzeTOH1WES3m8G-I-Gx_iKfc6ByolN6j_oP5dgkicsj68CS/s400/Three+Bloody+Pumpkins+gimped.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<a href="http://s51.photobucket.com/albums/f390/gtargirl/signatures/?action=view&current=DebSigAngelicWar.png" target="_blank"><img alt="Debby A." border="0" src="http://i51.photobucket.com/albums/f390/gtargirl/signatures/DebSigAngelicWar.png" /></a><br />
aka Deborah L. Alten<br />
pumpkin photograph by Aaron Jacoby <br />
<br />
<a href="http://voices.yahoo.com/mrs-shackles-cornfield-12364612.html?cat=44" target="_blank">Read more Halloween haunts with Mrs. Shackles.</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://technorati.com/tag/global+warming" rel="tag"></a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/deed.en_US" rel="license"><img alt="Creative Commons License" src="http://i.creativecommons.org/l/by-nc-nd/3.0/88x31.png" style="border-width: 0;" /></a><br />
<span property="dct:title" xmlns:dct="http://purl.org/dc/terms/">Mrs. Shackles' Pumpkin Patch</span> by <a href="http://gtargirls.blogspot.com/" property="cc:attributionName" rel="cc:attributionURL" xmlns:cc="http://creativecommons.org/ns#">Deborah L. Alten</a> is licensed under a <a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/deed.en_US" rel="license">Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License</a>.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28055791.post-26129139960036846612013-10-22T16:00:00.002-07:002013-10-22T16:00:18.533-07:00Halloween Flash Fiction: Mrs. Shackles' Cornfield <div style="text-align: justify;">
Lester Whittaker returned from a business trip a few days early. As he stepped off the bus he noticed old Mrs. Shackles' scarecrow. Lookin' kinnda scrawny. I could fix that for her. Anything to delay going home to Jaylan, his unfaithful wife. Not that he was any better.</div>
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He stepped into the cornfield where Mrs. Shackles worked and examined the stalks. "Hmm, no corn."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
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Mrs. Shackles wiped the sweat off her brow. "Lazy scarecrow."</div>
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"Easily fixed."</div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
"I'll leave you to it then."</div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
That's when Lester Whittaker lost sight of Mrs. Shackles and found a
small table set for one-with a glass of purple juice and a slice of
blackberry pie. His first bite was sweet. His first sip was quenching.
He never had a second.</div>
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~~ <a href="http://voices.yahoo.com/mrs-shackles-cornfield-12364612.html?cat=44" target="_blank">Read More</a> ...<br />
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<a href="http://s51.photobucket.com/albums/f390/gtargirl/signatures/?action=view&current=DebSigAngelicWar.png" target="_blank"><img alt="Debby A." border="0" src="http://i51.photobucket.com/albums/f390/gtargirl/signatures/DebSigAngelicWar.png" /></a> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28055791.post-37043443564168484462013-08-08T15:44:00.003-07:002013-09-16T14:46:13.340-07:00Bible Verses Using Go!Animate ...Go!Animate is free but it's probably worth it to upgrade. Will do that soon. <br />
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<a href="http://goanimate.com/videos/0nWKXq2r6xFI?utm_source=embed&uid=0jlkZtGJSaKs" target="_blank">Scripture Snapshots Jeremiah 29:11</a> by <a href="http://goanimate.com/user/0jlkZtGJSaKs" target="_blank">Debby Alten</a> on <a href='http://goanimate.com?utm_source=embed' target="_blank">GoAnimate</a><br />
<iframe scrolling="no" allowTransparency="true" frameborder="0" width="400" height="258" src="http://goanimate.com/player/embed/0nWKXq2r6xFI"></iframe><br />
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4de33c71c4ca76b1c269e2e56f1b7af73a63f2dfb58e87473dUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28055791.post-4409311337314592352013-08-07T14:18:00.000-07:002013-08-07T14:18:10.242-07:00Sometimes You Just Got To Change Your POVAnd sometimes you're just sitting on a comfy chair, thinking about where life has taken you, and a war of words stir in your brain. All you can do is write them down even if they don't make sense. After all, you've moved on, right? No one can stay angry, bitter, or hurt forever. You've gotta change your POV or there will be ... <br />
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NO REMEDY<br />
<br />
How should I get to the bottom of this?<br />
How can I tell you what I think of it?<br />
You’ve got the whole world thinking that …<br />
You’re brave and beautiful<br />
But I know what you did<br />
<br />
We’re flying upside down<br />
We’re seeing things from wrong perspectives<br />
Our pain is drowning out <br />
in that pool of blood<br />
With your knife in my back<br />
When you took his hand from mine<br />
<br />
And now we’re stats on a battlefield<br />
Like the cancer in your bones<br />
Maybe you are brave and beautiful<br />
But … I’m not that unbreakable<br />
<br />
We’re flying upside down<br />
We’re seeing things from wrong perspectives<br />
Our pain is drowning out <br />
in that pool of blood<br />
With your knife in my back<br />
When you took his hand from mine<br />
<br />
Now love has left us both<br />
You’re only whispers of a ghost<br />
And nothing matters more<br />
When we leave for distant shores<br />
But the sons and daughters who must carry on<br />
And will they ever know who was right or wrong<br />
<br />
They’re flying upside down<br />
They’re seeing things from wrong perspectives<br />
Their pain is drowning in that pool of blood<br />
With your knife in my back<br />
When you took his hand from theirs<br />
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<a href="http://s51.photobucket.com/albums/f390/gtargirl/signatures/?action=view&current=DebSigAngelicWar.png" target="_blank"><img alt="Debby A." border="0" src="http://i51.photobucket.com/albums/f390/gtargirl/signatures/DebSigAngelicWar.png" /></a> <br />
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<iframe width="560" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/FfJ8HALzKLU?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28055791.post-36101384169777015412013-08-04T13:07:00.001-07:002013-08-04T13:10:54.406-07:00Morning Bible Devotions with Baby Katie and Grandma<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/mr97GooOlDE" width="459"></iframe>
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Katie grew up to be a fine young lady. She loves God, family (loves her Grandma Marilyn, author of <i>High Chair Devotions</i>) and yes ... country. Katie is a nurse in the US Air Force. This video (or the content thereof) is part of this family's wonderful legacy.</div>
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<a href="http://s51.photobucket.com/albums/f390/gtargirl/signatures/?action=view&current=DebSigAngelicWar.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img alt="Debby A." border="0" src="http://i51.photobucket.com/albums/f390/gtargirl/signatures/DebSigAngelicWar.png" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://technorati.com/tag/family+legacies" rel="tag">family legacies</a>
<a href="http://technorati.com/tag/family+youtube+videos" rel="tag">family youtube videos</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28055791.post-79121698719787995402013-07-16T15:36:00.000-07:002013-07-16T15:46:05.360-07:00Genre: Metal ... Post Hard Core. Redeem/Revive, What Are Your Children Listening To?<div style="text-align: justify;">
We have to let our kids find their own way in this life, right? Hopefully they're looking in the right places. We pray that the path they're on will lead them to happiness, peace, love and God. The latter for us would be far more important than anything else.</div>
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What does a young man do when he's put all his energy, time, and honestly, his life into one dream and then that dream is ripped away from him by his friends?</div>
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What if I started a publishing company and then just when we signed, oh let's say Ted Dekker or the likes, and my bizz partners decide to vote me off the island: kick me out, rip up my contract, null and void. It happened to the Facebook guy. And it happened to my son. But he'll survive. He's tough, amazingly tough.</div>
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He played in a band called Redeem/Revive, signed with Outerloop Management who have pretty big-name bands under their belt. I could rant on about both of these (band and management) and how they betrayed my son. Ironically, their debut EP is called Betrayl ... yes, I believe the "a" is left out on purpose. But what good would my rants do?</div>
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They tore his heart out, stomped on it and left it on the sidewalk for others to trample on. But he only bent, he didn't break. He's like a <a href="http://voices.yahoo.com/trees-bible-5793240.html?cat=37" target="_blank">Palm Tree</a> (now there's a good story). My son will survive, they picked on the right kid ... or should I say, the wrong kid. This one will rise from the ashes. Too much prayer goin' on for him to go under. It's dark in this place he's in but he has options and they all point up, if you get my meaning.</div>
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But enough of that. I went to his show with Redeem/Revive and shot some video with my 'Droid. It came out pretty good. As I was listening to the lyrics, I heard the f word. I remember him telling me that their songs had that word. Well, knowing is one thing, hearing is another. And the clean singer was raised in the Church of the Nazarene ... Oh My!!! Mine was raised at New Song in San Dimas. What were our kids listening to? Or who are they listening to now?</div>
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In any case, when you get booted off the island maybe God has a better plan. This plan was looking a little dark and ugly. But then again ... who am I to say? Perhaps they're there to be a light. Well, then, I hope he left a mark.</div>
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<a href="http://s51.photobucket.com/albums/f390/gtargirl/signatures/?action=view&current=DebSigAngelicWar.png" target="_blank"><img alt="Debby A." border="0" src="http://i51.photobucket.com/albums/f390/gtargirl/signatures/DebSigAngelicWar.png" /></a> <br />
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<li><a href="http://technorati.com/tag/Post+Hard+Core" rel="tag">Post Hard Core</a> <a href="http://technorati.com/tag/Metal+Bands" rel="tag">Metal Bands</a></li>
<li><a href="http://technorati.com/tag/Redeem/Revive" rel="tag">Redeem/Revive</a></li>
<li><a href="http://technorati.com/tag/Chain+Reaction" rel="tag">Chain Reaction</a></li>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28055791.post-38181678680463036492013-07-15T14:07:00.000-07:002013-07-15T14:07:15.870-07:00Arm Yourselves with Coupon Codes and Other DealsWe interrupt this blog for a very important message. You see, none of us here in fantasy land would want any of you to be without your magic beans or better still, <a href="http://www.bestonlinecoupons.com/deals/" target="_blank">Discount Shopping Deals</a>. Pointing you in the right direction is something we take very seriously. <br />
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The village is always open for shopping but we can arm you with coupon codes. And arm you we shall--with Old Navy codes, or <a href="http://www.bestonlinecoupons.com/coupons/adorama.asp" target="_blank">Adorama coupons</a>, and coupons for flowers is always in your best interest--trust me on that. There's <a href="http://www.bestonlinecoupons.com/coupons/focus-camera.asp">Focus Camera coupon codes</a>, and new codes are added all the time.Yes, that is correct ... all the time.<br />
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There are new coupons, hot coupons, hot deals and expiring coupons. You must hurry for those unless you do not know what expiring is.<br />
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Take a look at the online offers for baby, kids and clothes; for arts and crafts, food and drinks, for shoes and even party needs. And how about for bride and groom? Oh to have a page so exclusive. Yes, the deals for that most important date is at your fingertips.<br />
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This journey will take you beyond Orbitz and Expedia and maybe even back again. To the Amazon for books and such or Barnes and Noble if you prefer. There are no Borders to contend with, just get your coupon codes.<br />
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So there you go, you have been informed. Remember new codes are added quite frequently. Therefore, do not hit the stores running without your codes. <br />
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<a href="http://technorati.com/tag/Brand+Name+Coupons" rel="tag">Brand Name Coupons</a> <a href="http://technorati.com/tag/shop+with+coupons" rel="tag">shop with coupons</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28055791.post-74469984297549910852013-04-24T10:29:00.001-07:002013-04-24T10:35:07.578-07:00My Youtube Promo Video<div style="text-align: justify;">
So I made this promo video on Youtube to ... promo me. The video has a few fantasy elements in it, therefore I thought it appropriate to place here on the Watchers. It's a tough world out there; jobs are hard to come by. In any case, here' the promo for Alten Ink. Thanks for watching. </div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/iUgqYNDiJIw?rel=0" width="560"></iframe><br />
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<a href="http://s51.photobucket.com/albums/f390/gtargirl/signatures/?action=view&current=DebSigAngelicWar.png" target="_blank"><img alt="Debby A." border="0" src="http://i51.photobucket.com/albums/f390/gtargirl/signatures/DebSigAngelicWar.png" /></a> <a href="http://technorati.com/tag/my+youtube+promo+video" rel="tag">my youtube promo video</a> <a href="http://technorati.com/tag/Alten+Ink" rel="tag">Alten Ink</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28055791.post-13386111773185843142013-04-01T00:00:00.002-07:002013-04-01T11:41:42.477-07:00Guest Post by Rikki Strong: Superheroes of the Bible<a data-pin-config="beside" data-pin-do="buttonPin" href="http://pinterest.com/pin/create/button/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fgtargirls.blogspot.com%2F2013%2F04%2Fguest-post-by-rikki-strong-superheroes.html&media=http%3A%2F%2F1.bp.blogspot.com%2F-bBGABGximfM%2FUVnQgd0hJiI%2FAAAAAAAAE_U%2FvrD7iK403pU%2Fs1600%2FRikkipic.jpg&description=Rikki%20Strong%3A%20Superheroes%20of%20the%20Bible"><img src="//assets.pinterest.com/images/pidgets/pin_it_button.png" /></a><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheesM5xdnK9PnGRoyyiw1bc5M6cMs2bskSnaogMLJP2zUSabHp9gt6dl_WE50Xg4gjGoryBYrqxV4KZ-Ituj-dkWTXJiQKQMxihXKGqVHpFOhHroXqC4xEs2dWa28xQ2717b_4/s1600/Rikkipic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheesM5xdnK9PnGRoyyiw1bc5M6cMs2bskSnaogMLJP2zUSabHp9gt6dl_WE50Xg4gjGoryBYrqxV4KZ-Ituj-dkWTXJiQKQMxihXKGqVHpFOhHroXqC4xEs2dWa28xQ2717b_4/s200/Rikkipic.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>I love superheroes. I always have. After watching the old ‘60s Batman series on reruns with my folks, I was hooked. Superheroes are just incredibly awesome. They can do things I cannot, like fly. Superheroes are everywhere—from movies, to books, to our soft drink cans, to the Bible. No, really, the Bible. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">There are all kinds of superpowers in the Bible. Here is a far-from-exhaustive list: </div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><ul><li>Magneto is a villain with the ability to control metal objects. But the prophet Elisha did it first. (2 Kings 6) </li>
<li>Superman’s super strength has nothing on Samson (Judges 14 – 16).</li>
<li>Wolverine’s amazing healing powers? Paul was bit by a snake and just shook it off into the fire (Acts 28).</li>
<li>Peter was, in effect, invisible during a prison break (Acts 12).</li>
<li>The Flash and his super speed? Well, Elisha outran war horses (2 Kings 5).</li>
<li>Pyro and his ability to control fire? Elijah got it first (1 Kings 18). </li>
</ul><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">Many superheroes have some the ability of precognition (seeing the future). But they stole that from the major and minor prophets.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><ul><li>Jonah was indigestible (Jonah 2).</li>
<li>Storm has nothing on Jesus (Luke 8)—in more ways than one.</li>
<li>Tarzan wasn’t the first to be able to speak with animals, but in one case, the animal spoke back (Numbers 22).</li>
<li>Elijah and many other prophets were given the ability to raise one person from the dead, but Ezekiel raised a whole army (Ezekiel 37).</li>
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</div><div style="text-align: justify;">So, if God gave those prophets and followers awesome superpowers, why doesn’t he give his followers superpowers now? Well, the good news is, he does. They’re called “Spiritual Gifts” and can range from compassion for those less fortunate to being able to raise the dead. The gifts he gives every single person who believes, though, are the superpowers of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5). </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Many people have accused my crossover superhero series (Karis, Flash) of being rote, predictable and nothing more than un-glorified fan fiction with a religious twist. To them I say: It is the comic books from which I—I will freely admit—borrowed concepts that are the fanfic. And God gave real people real superpowers. We need more Christian superheroes, so I wrote some. Not only do my new Christian superheroes in Flash have awesome super powers and help Tamara kick some butt but also help her recognize God’s will for her life—and helping others find God’s will for their lives is something of a superpower itself, and one we can all have.</div><br />
<strong><span style="color: #0c343d; font-size: large;">~~*~~</span></strong><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;">Rikki Strong has always been enamored with superheroes, and started writing the <em>My Life as a Superhero</em> series (currently Karis and Flash) when she was a sophomore in high school. She began writing for fun and profit in 2006 and has since written or ghostwritten more than 10 books and over 50 web articles. When not writing—which is most of the time—she is a stay-at-home wife and mom to a very active 6-year-old boy who has already about 500 words and 25 chapters into writing his own book. </div><br />
<span style="color: #0c343d; font-size: large;"><strong>~~*~~</strong></span><br />
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Visit Rikki on ... <br />
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/R-M-Strong/281097011925041" target="_blank">Facebook</a><br />
<a href="https://twitter.com/RM_Strong" target="_blank">Twitter</a><br />
<a href="https://plus.google.com/u/0/106319550273644506645/posts/p/pub" target="_blank">Google</a> _<br />
<a href="http://rachelstrong.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Blog</a><br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/author/rmstrong" target="_blank">Amazon Author Page</a><br />
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<iframe frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=sarahlayne-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=B00C01JIOQ&ref=qf_sp_asin_til&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="height: 240px; width: 120px;"></iframe><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #0c343d; font-size: large;">~~* ~~</span></strong><br />
<a href="http://technorati.com/tag/Rikki+Strong" rel="tag">Rikki Strong</a> <a href="http://technorati.com/tag/My+Life+as+a+Superhero" rel="tag">My Life as a Superhero</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28055791.post-33573519181606911722013-03-26T11:52:00.001-07:002013-07-31T20:25:39.027-07:00Flash Fiction: Priest: Truth and Consequences<a data-pin-config="beside" data-pin-do="buttonPin" href="http://pinterest.com/pin/create/button/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fvoices.yahoo.com%2Fthe-cross-still-divine-3503339.html%3Fcat%3D34&media=http%3A%2F%2F3.bp.blogspot.com%2F-ILfPxFzKygs%2FUVHrd5oeBdI%2FAAAAAAAAE-8%2Fe0Awny1B_JY%2Fs1600%2FRuins%2BCyrus%2BBaldridge.png&description=Easter%20flash%20fiction%3A%20The%20Priest%27s%20Betrayal"><img src="//assets.pinterest.com/images/pidgets/pin_it_button.png" /></a><br />
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<i>The following flash fiction is included in "Short Tales of Secret Worlds" now available on Kindle.</i><br />
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<span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-size: large;">~~*~~</span></span></div>
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“Make certain the tower is locked, and the priest still breathes. Then get out. The portal closes within the hour.” Gad retracted his battle-torn wings as he gave J’than his orders.</div>
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The soldier nodded and reached for his M16. </div>
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“Don’t bother.” <a href="http://voices.yahoo.com/light-world-11935175.html?cat=44" target="_blank">Gad</a> shook his head. “Your weapons cannot go through the portal. However, the Watcher’s sword rests atop the tower. The Nephilim left it there. For the priest I suppose.”</div>
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J’than frowned. He clenched his fists which wrapped his body armor around him from head to foot. Taking a breath, he stepped through the portal. But on the other side, hydrogen sulfide infiltrated his lungs. He coughed till he managed to activate his oxygen pack. This was the unfamiliar world. The one men tried not to believe in. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Image125h.jpg" target="_blank">The Glory of Reims</a></span></td></tr>
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J’than located the tower. Horrid cries, voices within the walls—exhausted voices—screamed for mercy. The soldier stood both in awe and fear of the tower. Yellowy-brown mortar oozed between the bricks, spitting out drops of red. <i>Blood</i>. “Still fresh.” Vines and roots choked the craggy stones, strangling life from each layer. The roots dripped with pungent liquid. And a constant banging of broken bones clanged through living walls.</div>
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He ignored the pleas. His job was to secure the tower. “Flight.” J’than’s voice-command equipped his body armor with wings: F22-Raptor particles. He fortified the tower, every lock he bolted, every crack and hole he sealed. </div>
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He found the sword. It was longer than he expected and heavier. With weapon in hand he walked into a cold cave. There he saw <a href="http://voices.yahoo.com/the-fray-2660673.html?cat=42" target="_blank">the priest</a>. A pouch of coins dangled from his tattered belt. His pale blue hand clutched a bloody sword. Red veins lined his black eyes. And an open wound, unable to heal, scarred his neck. “Where is your sign? Let me see your forehead.”</div>
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J’than’s grip on his sword tightened. “No sign.” </div>
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“No sign! No pass!” Then, with unexpected velocity, the priest charged toward J’than.</div>
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They clashed midair. Sword upon sword, resonating through cavern walls. </div>
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“Who are you?” J’than hollered as iron ignited.</div>
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“You can’t kill me. I’m already dead. We could fight for eternity.”</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
“You wouldn’t last. Just tell me who you are and I might let you live.” J’than backed away, though his sword pointed at the priest’s face. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
“I betrayed Him, you know. With a kiss no less.” Saliva trickled from the priest’s lips.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
“This I knew,” J’than replied, “I just needed to hear you confess it.” The soldier slashed the pouch with his sword which scattered the silver coins. “Your reward!” </div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
The priest scrambled to gather his coins but J’than grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and lifted him off the ground. “Scelestus. Traitor! You truly are lost.” He threw the priest’s body onto the parched ground. Thump! Bones rattled and broke. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The priest staggered to his feet. “Go then. Perdition waits. Why you travel here is none of my concern. You will not return.”</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
“I came to make sure you had not found a way out.” </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The priest stroked the wound on his neck. “Did they kill Him?”</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
“Who?”</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
“<a href="http://voices.yahoo.com/easter-king-cross-5617980.html?cat=42" target="_blank">The One who sang all worlds into being</a>.”</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
J’than walked toward the closing portal. “Yes, they did. But three days later he rose. I didn’t believe it myself until I saw you. I’m guessing it’s why they sent me.”</div>
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<br /></div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
The portal closed. The soldier was gone. Pockets of lava seeped through the parched land. The gnashing of teeth grew louder. The ancient tree appeared and a noose slithered down. The priest hung himself … again. Three days later, breath returned to him. He sighed. <i>Eternity</i> … “This is Hell.”</div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>~~*~~</b></span><br />
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<i>It's only hell when Heaven's in your view ... but you can't get there.</i><br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28055791.post-69364401284419407062013-03-18T11:53:00.000-07:002013-03-25T00:55:40.658-07:00The Flash Fiction Chronicles of Eamane<div style="text-align: justify;">There are worlds beyond our own, don't you know? Some of them beneath us, and above ... way above. We might even be sharing the same space, those dimensions can get pretty tricky. The universe is ever expanding, and no one has returned from black holes ... or have they? Nonetheless, we are not alone. How many times must we tell you that? I've been there, to other worlds. I've seen them, those who are not quite human but human still. I am the Gatekeeper, and you've been warned.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUXWEWnE0EyRdAodCrrNoZdbX5h2mnPID1o9r8ESqrAP6FOaSx0nMJFVbGjPcYyFXOI545F9pzZqjPnCggHw1YyfaGucCIGnDyxc-cRjIlU3iPdNNu-vWT_-MUXfWDn9VvHk4d/s1600/Short+Tales+of+Secret+Worlds+Book+Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUXWEWnE0EyRdAodCrrNoZdbX5h2mnPID1o9r8ESqrAP6FOaSx0nMJFVbGjPcYyFXOI545F9pzZqjPnCggHw1YyfaGucCIGnDyxc-cRjIlU3iPdNNu-vWT_-MUXfWDn9VvHk4d/s640/Short+Tales+of+Secret+Worlds+Book+Cover.jpg" width="436" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">Coming soon to your world.</div><br />
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<a href="http://s51.photobucket.com/albums/f390/gtargirl/signatures/?action=view&current=DebSigAngelicWar.png" target="_blank"><img alt="Debby A." border="0" src="http://i51.photobucket.com/albums/f390/gtargirl/signatures/DebSigAngelicWar.png" /></a> <li><a href="http://technorati.com/tag/flash+fiction" rel="tag">flash fiction</a> <a href="http://technorati.com/tag/Christian+horror" rel="tag">Christian horror</a></li>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28055791.post-27191565807242220532013-03-04T13:33:00.005-08:002013-03-04T14:10:27.149-08:00Flash Fiction: Beneath the Blithe of Silver Moonlight(or <em>The Tortured Souls of Elmsley Village)</em><br />
By Debby Alten<br />
<a data-pin-config="beside" href="//pinterest.com/pin/create/button/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fgtargirls.blogspot.com%2F2013%2F03%2Fflash-fiction-beneath-blithe-of-silver.html&media=http%3A%2F%2F4.bp.blogspot.com%2F-kIBMQUUD2uI%2FUTUYKqsAgkI%2FAAAAAAAAE9A%2F5uqsZXEV2Uo%2Fs1600%2Fgray%2Bwolf%2Bbordered.png&description=Flash%20Fiction%3A%20The%20Tortured%20Souls%20of%20Elmsley%20Village" data-pin-do="buttonPin" ><img src="//assets.pinterest.com/images/pidgets/pin_it_button.png" /></a><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1dopjfWqVLuvmqCi2qCFEsur5yT8D5esufALB7HVbh2jwPL22Dtznfv4Ct7X39QLvhC1g5W3MoqYqbXmJLKkmYrvMmdoS1jjJm4tHdVsVkM86G_nvcK56p7j6-apXdzn_dmFH/s1600/gray+wolf+bordered.png" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1dopjfWqVLuvmqCi2qCFEsur5yT8D5esufALB7HVbh2jwPL22Dtznfv4Ct7X39QLvhC1g5W3MoqYqbXmJLKkmYrvMmdoS1jjJm4tHdVsVkM86G_nvcK56p7j6-apXdzn_dmFH/s320/gray+wolf+bordered.png" width="256" /></a></div><div align="justify" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">As mist descended upon Elmsley village, a young man, wrapped within a heavy cloak, snuck upon the grey-stone cottage; set between two elms at the edge of the frozen forest. He was drawn to the lights of burning candles flickering through foggy windows. Then, as he backed up against the cold, moss-covered stones, a soft snarl escaped his lips. And breath became one with the mist.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">A wooden bench in front of the cottage labored beneath a layer of fresh snow. There, he thought, he would end it all: just one sturdy stab to the heart with his silver dagger. Surely the gods of winter would not frown upon him now. Surely no other had ever bore such a burden as his.</div><br />
<a href="http://voices.yahoo.com/flash-fiction-beneath-blithe-silver-moonlight-12021636.html?cat=44" target="_blank">Read more ...</a><br />
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<a href="http://technorati.com/tag/Flash+Fiction" rel="tag">Flash Fiction</a> <br />
<a href="http://technorati.com/tag/Christian+fantasy" rel="tag">Christian fantasy</a><br />
<a href="http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Grijze_Wolff.jpg" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Grey Wolf from Wikimedia Commons</span></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28055791.post-17472565807449477392013-02-14T15:04:00.001-08:002013-02-14T15:58:38.093-08:00A Valentine's Day Flash: Unless Death Be Our BridegroomBy<a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Adventures-of-Adrian-Barrow/112777502166715" target="_blank"> Andy Poole</a><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFTs68FKQD06Iv2hvYkg7Jw8WddkAnb7iDLm-ei-AZ5DqL3gvKu-qCo3sAMsbABFKqVfKO_8GrYLtjXZxL91_4wgzdezWiuCCdSM8NAanFJwdBuz4TKSGOO4Nnn4PZwSGBnnL5/s1600/Shekel+&+Raza.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFTs68FKQD06Iv2hvYkg7Jw8WddkAnb7iDLm-ei-AZ5DqL3gvKu-qCo3sAMsbABFKqVfKO_8GrYLtjXZxL91_4wgzdezWiuCCdSM8NAanFJwdBuz4TKSGOO4Nnn4PZwSGBnnL5/s320/Shekel+&+Raza.jpg" width="243" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Shekel & Raza: copyright, 2013 by Andy Poole</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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The solemn procession marched down the lonely path. Dust loomed overhead like Djinns, stirred up by moaning winds. The daughters of Ishbane, captain of the <em>Night Jackal</em>, came to lay their father to rest in the Necropolis, ancient city of the dead. Silent tears trailed down Raza’s cheeks as she led the procession in her sister’s stead; Shekel lay propped on a litter, fresh blood oozing beneath her bandages. <br />
<br />
They had flown through hostile skies to fulfill their vow: “Until our father is laid to rest in the ancestral tomb, we, the daughters of Ishbane, shall not take a husband, unless Death be our bridegroom.” <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
§</div>
<br />
They took to the skies early that morning, with a corpse for cargo and dirges for shanties. Their nimble machine had slipped past the Corsair fleet, but a lighter craft overtook them. The two ships rent the air with the lead of their guns, but cold steel decided the day. <br />
<br />
The Corsair hooked on the <em>Night Jackal</em> and the flying brigands strapped on their propulsion packs to board. The swarthy crew of the Jackal each donned a crimson battle scarf and twenty-five sabres gleamed along the deck. Corsairs hurtled to the deck from their body-mounted engines; the clash of arms and human cries succeeded the rockets’ scream. <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
§</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
Shekel lay back her head on the litter as her strength now waned. Her face greyed beneath the battering dust. The eldest daughter of Ishbane had bled for her father’s honour. “We are almost there, Shekel. There, see?” The procession came near to the vaulted gate of the Ishbane tomb. Yet before their eyes had seen the mosaic face of the tomb, they had seen blood. <br />
<br />
When the Corsairs boarded, the <em>Jackal</em> crew wavered. The pirates drove them to the rail and there would have killed them to a man when shrill voices cried, “Honour for Ishbane!” The sword of Ishbane extended from Shekel’s grip; Raza charged with her sister and plunged her khanjar dagger into the heart of a Corsair. <br />
<br />
The sisters’ courage inspired the crew who fought with the hearts of lions. Snarls rumbled behind clenched teeth as the men of the<em> Jackal</em> battled back, striving to shield the daughters of the late Captain. They surrounded the young women with a hedge of sabres facing outward; the fury of the cutthroats broke on the human wall, but with their momentum spent they shattered under the counteroffensive. The last of them launched back to their own ship. The Corsair ship detached and sputtered back to its fleet. <br />
<br />
The crewmen cheered at the backs of their foe, but Shekel collapsed in Raza’s arms. Raza laid her down and her heart chilled at the touch of her sister’s blood. She stared in horror as the scarlet flow ran down her fingers. <br />
<br />
“Unless Death be our bridegroom.” Shekel’s voice cracked. “That was our vow. You will have to carry me there, these skies are not safe and I’ve come this far.”<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
§</div>
<br />
The procession passed from the hot desert sands and into the cool shadow of the tomb. Shekel’s bearers lay her litter down and helped her to her feet. Both sisters tossed handfuls of dust in their long, dark locks. The walls echoed with haunting notes of the ancient death song borne on their wailing voices. But soon Raza was the only woman singing, and the song died on the lips of men as Shekel fell limp in the strong arms of the boatswain. Raza flew to her sister’s side. Shekel caressed her sister’s cheek with a weak hand. “Lay me at Father’s feet. Death is now my bridegroom.”<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
§</div>
<br />
On the deck of the <em>Night</em> <em>Jackal</em>, Raza looked over her shoulders toward the Necropolis receding in the distance. As sand clouds cleared, the setting sun bathed the Necropolis in scarlet light.<br />
<br />
“My Lady Raza.”<br />
<br />
She turned to face Desh, the first mate. “Set course for Dezra. I want the ship re-outfitted to fly again.”<br />
<br />
“You will fly with us?”<br />
<br />
Raza shook her head. “I will run Father’s business as his sole remaining heiress, and take a husband. Father’s legacy shall live on in my children, unless of course Death is first my bridegroom.” <br />
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<div align="center">
<strong><span style="color: #274e13; font-size: x-large;">~~**~~**~~</span></strong></div>
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<a href="http://technorati.com/tag/Micah+6+:+8" rel="tag">Micah 6:8</a> <br />
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They have a really large selection, so take your time and you'll find what you're looking for. By the way, this is not a paid post. <br />
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