The Gamers Wrath

I finished my first ever video game last night! It was Strangers Wrath for X-Box. I have been playing video games for quite a few years but never actually was the first one to make it to the end. Why? I'm married. B loves to play video games and we usually "share" them, meaning we take turns playing in a given gaming night. It is most fun actually, except when it comes to the endings - he usually does the endings because he is usually the one who has the controller at the time.

For the past couple of weeks, B has permitted the X-Box to stay hooked up because JoJo is more grown-up than what she was and we have a nice coffee table to hold the X-Box safely now. So, while he has been at work I have been able to play a little through the day and he has been able to come home and relax by picking up where I left off. This time B even stopped a couple of times and said, "You can take care of him tomorrow." Of course the "him" was usually a boss of some type and my gaming skills actually went up because of it, so I have no complaints about that.

Yesterday was a very bad writing day: I had been working on a short story to submit but everything I tried just kept popping wrong and so gave up about four o'clock, which is my winding-down-time now, and started playing. B wasn't coming straight home so I had a couple of more hours of time to play, and in that time I actually finished Strangers Wrath!

Yes, I was elated. I was all alone except for the dogs and I was watching the ending movie with much interest and pleasure because I was seeing it first because of the actions I had led Stranger through. We had fought hard against Secto and now we had finally done what we needed to do in order to have peace in Oddworld!

And there was much rejoicing!

Now on the agenda is Panzer Dragoon Orta. I really wanted to play it but B said he wanted to play it first. Now the X-Box is up I feel as if I have a chance of beating this game as well.

Oh, and last night when B came home, I was able to tell him I had finished the game. I saw and heard the same happy disappointment that I had always had before in my own face and voice. And I really didn't feel bad about it.

Blog Book!

Today has been a day of much thinking. I have not been in the best of moods today, thus the thinking, and not all of the thinking has been good, but some of it has been most worthwhile - ergo, I've decided Fantasy Revealed is probably going to end up being a "blog book" and just accepting that reality has made me feel better.

I also promise, from here on out there will be an episode every Tuesday. Yeah, I know, I wanted Tuesday and Thursday, but other writing projects must also be accomplished - those I have the potential for getting paid for. Who knows, maybe once Fantasy Revealed is finished y'all may be able to go out and buy a hard copy for yourselves!

This is about the only change you will see in The News for a while. Everything else pretty much will remain the same.

Oh, and remember that self-overhaul I was talking about way back when? Well, I've started it. Saturday is W-Day - weighing day, to see if I have actually begun losing any weight. I feel as if I weigh a ton, but my clothes are just a wee bit looser (I know, it isn't grammatical, but you know what I mean).

Fantasy Revealed, vii

Fantasy Revealed, Part vii
By H.A. Handy
Copyright 2005 by H.A. Handy




--VII—

I woke up in a beautiful room upon a large canopied four-poster bed, the kind every little girl dreams of at some point in her life. The dogs were curled up on either side of me, just like always. The walls were stone covered in thick tapestries and coverings almost like quilts, very ornate quilts. A window was just to my right where a beautiful night sky peeped in so lazily I could almost forget, for a moment, what had happened.

Carefully I pushed myself up onto my elbows. Ella and Enyo raised their heads and thumped their tails against the bed in quiet greeting. I smiled at them and they lay their large black heads back down. A fireplace was just to the foot of the bed, and two chairs. Dremor occupied one of them, his head resting against his hand abjectly, his eyes closed in quiet sleep. Carefully I pushed the heavy covers away and was getting ready to get up when Dremor appeared. No traces of sleep were left in his eyes as he looked down at me. The light of the fire played about his handsome face adding atmosphere to....

I was suddenly very glad it was darkish in the room, because if it was not then Dremor would see me blush like a fanciful teenager letting herself wonder what if in the middle of a fantastic hopeful dream.

Dremor pulled the cover back up over me as he sat down at my side. He stroked my forehead gently. “Hungry?” he asked. I really didn’t feel hungry but I didn’t have anything to say, so I said I was. Without hesitance, Dremor propped me on more pillows and from a bedside table placed a tray in my lap. It was covered with a cloth and when the cover was removed the scent of warm stew and fresh bread made my stomach gurgle in earnest. Dremor smiled at that and left from the side of the bed long enough to bring his chair closer as well as a tray of his own, which he had obviously not fully eaten on in his vigil by my bedside. Ella and Enyo, of course, were no longer asleep because they were focused on the food Dremor and I were now eating.

“They have been fed,” Dremor said, reaching out to stroke Ella’s large head, which was the closer of the two. “They did not want to eat at first, but I made sure to feed them in here, which let them have some of their appetite.”

“And Cappa?” Dremor pointed to the other chair by the fire.

“Safe and sound and purring pleasantly.” He smiled at me in his warm, genuine way and I felt myself relax.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“A day only,” he answered.

“I’m sorry.” Dremor placed one of his warm, elegant hands over mine.

“There is nothing for you to apologize for anything, Marjorie,” he said, and, I have to admit I rather enjoyed how he said my name. It was suddenly very exotic and sexy. “You have come to a different world, literally, in order to help us, without thinking so much as one ounce for yourself. All of this,” he said, waving his spoon at the room as if encompassing it and so much more, “is undoubtedly shocking in the truest of senses. I know when I first went into your world I became extremely ill. We who Travel call it shifting sickness. I did not stop having it for almost twenty times!”

“Is that how many times you have come into my world? Twenty?” Dremor smiled at me and shook his head as he ladled a bite of the rich meat and vegetable stew into his mouth.

“I have been to your world many times, and each time it has changed in some way. Once there was a great battle being fought with cannons and people were falling horribly on both sides. It was called the Civil War, I believe. It was sad, and rank.” Dremor’s brow furrowed. “I am sorry, you don’t need to hear about all of that.”

“No, please,” I said, “go on.” And he did. He told me of the Civil War and of what he had seen. He had come to our world that time to bring someone back, but had only ended up bringing them back. Then he told me of Charles Dickens’ world and how it compared to what had been happening in America and my own history came alive for me in a manner I could never have imagined before. Finally, our bowls empty and the bread eaten, Dremor sighed and tucked me back under the nice warm blankets and told me dawn would be coming soon. He promised to be at his post the remainder of the night. As I scrunched down upon the comfortable bed and all of those pillows, I glanced down and saw Dremor replacing his chair by the fire and angling it so he could see the bed and the fire. Once I woke up, startled at everything being different, just as the sky outside was beginning to pale. Dremor was there, his head upon his hand, and the fire burning down to coals. I trusted him in a way I had never trusted anyone, and as I was drifting back off into sleep, I hoped I was not making a mistake.


### ### ###

The dogs’ frantic barking was what woke me up fully. They were off the bed and had stationed themselves in front of the large wooden door fiercely. Dremor was awakened too, his sword drawn and at the ready. Sounds from outside finally drifted in, and they were horrible sounds of people screaming, horses whinnying that terrified, frightened sound that made the blood chill in your veins. Then came the clash of metal upon metal and Dremor was at the window, throwing a large shutter (I had not even noticed before) shut just as arrows came whipping inside.

“Down! Get down!” Dremor yelled. I was on the floor and under the bed in seconds. Cappa soon came to join me. I called Ella and Enyo close and they sat on the floor, waiting. “It’s English! The fool!” Dremor yelled.

The door to the room burst open and oiled boots appeared. “Where is she?” It was King Arthur. I did not hear Dremor say anything but the king was looking at me beneath the bed. “Come child. We need to get you out of here.” I had almost made it from beneath the bed when Fredrick appeared, a satchel over his back and was dragging two others, both of them a lot larger than his. The effort was causing the little man’s face to break into sweat.

“Everything is there, including a change of clothes,” said Frederick as he slid one over to me. “Dress and we will be on our way.”

I reached for the pack and pulled out a pair of soft leather breeches, a shirt and vest, and a pair of extra soft boots with soft soles almost like moccasins. The sounds of a raging battle was growing outside, as well as a scent of feces and copper. I didn’t want to think about those smells, but they made my half-empty stomach lurch dangerous a couple of times. The men, much to my surprise, all turned their backs to me to give me privacy as I changed and I felt just a little sad for not being more self-conscious of changing in front of these strange men, especially when I would not change in front of my mother when I was home! Terror can make you re-think propriety it appeared.

I had just slid on the vest when a broad shouldered, very squarely built, almost stout elf appeared. He was about five feet nine and massive in his chest and shoulders, actually every where! He paused to give me an approving look then bowed low to King Arthur.

“What word Kolbar?”

“The gate is falling at the moment, but there looks like the reinforcements from Dal are going to arrive. The archers have already assisted us with their arrows, even from Dal. If we want to make sure the Keeper is safe, we’d best get her gone.” King Arthur nodded.

“I trust you will keep her safe, Kolbar?” King Arthur fixed Kolbar with a look that made me wilt, but Kolbar just looked into the king’s eyes and laughed.

“Aye, I’ll keep her safe, as long as my dear cousin agrees we go where I say she needs to go.” Dremor tensed.

“Dremor?” the king intoned. Several tense seconds passed before Dremor gave his agreement.

“Just remember, Kolbar, Dremor is ahead of you in rank.”

“What does a half-blood need of rank?” Kolbar laughed suddenly. “Come now, let’s get going while we still have a chance!”

Dremor passed close by me, grabbed me by the arm and we edged passed Kolbar whose bulk was taking up the majority of the door. Ella and Enyo followed me, and I heard Cappa mew sadly. Dremor had somehow managed to scoop up his pack from the floor without me noticing it (which really wouldn’t have been too difficult to do considering). Kolbar touched his forehead in a means of greeting. His eyes were dark and brilliant. A tight black beard and mustache outlined his full-lipped mouth, and his head was filled with long dreadlocks. I could not help but smile at him – he seemed so amused by everything. I also noticed his skin was darker and he smelled of...the out doors, like when you go camping and return after a week. You still smell like the out doors even after you have more than one shower, and that’s exactly what he smelled like.

I was still looking back at the curiosity that was Kolbar in time to see him scoop up Fredrick and Cappa and head out after us. Fredrick was outraged!

“Be quiet little man! I’m just giving you necessary aide!” Kolbar said, his voice sounding like thunder.

“I am a mighty and powerful wizard!”

“Aye, that you are, but your legs can’t keep up with Dremor’s and I am not so certain of mine, but mine have a better chance until we can get to the horses!”
Then Kolbar was after us, right on my heels, and I was right on Dremor’s who was hurrying down a set of stone steps with such sure-footedness I felt myself hard put to try and keep up with him.

At a landing he let me rest and Kolbar catch up, who then passed right by us, Fredrick still on his shoulder like so many pounds of potatoes, and then we were heading after Kolbar.

I did not get to see much of what was around me, but I did see beautiful glistening crystal archways and beautiful gold and gems upon some of the tiles we passed over. Then we were into a small tunnel behind a tapestry and we were hurrying in single file with a torch here and there to light our way. For myself I could see nothing. I had to trust to Dremor to tell me if there were steps or turns because I could not see, and he in turn was relying upon Kolbar who would shout out turns here and there or roar “Steps” or something else as he proceeded.

Kolbar put down Fredrick and told Dremor to wait, he would check the exit and he rushed off. I was tired and drenched in sweat from the many minutes run. Dremor was not phased and neither was Fredrick.

“I...thought...elves could see in the dark,” I panted. Dremor shook his head.

“Not here, it is protected by magic, but Kolbar can see. It is in his blood.”

“In...his...blood?”

“He is half dwarf!” Dremor virtually spat out the information. I wondered suddenly if everything I had read in Dungeons and Dragons was true: Did elves and dwarves dislike each other so much they would not cross breed? If Dremor’s reaction was any indication, then, yes there was something to it, but my line of thought could not follow up with a question because Kolbar appeared and we were continuing down the tunnel once more, this time very quietly.

Ella rumbled softly and everyone stopped.

Kolbar started on again and we followed.

Finally there was a crack around what appeared to be a door and Kolbar slid it open slowly. It took several seconds for my eyes to adjust. When they did, I was sickened at what I saw.

Humbled Beneath A Clear Blue Sky

The sun is shining and the sky is clear outside today, and a dear friend just informed me her grandmother passed yesterday. This is the first close loss my friend has had so she is feeling every ounce of it, every second of it, but is still dealing with it quite well. The old words of condolence I used to say I found myself unable to say to her, possibly because so much has happened in my own life that, well, I understood the words really didn't matter, but the actions did. So I volunteered to call our priest and tell him. Sometimes the little things really do mean more, and help more, than really big things. My friend is suffering and in shock, but the sky is clear and blue, and there is laughter in abundance.

It is always surprising when you discover you have grown. It is always a surprise to me to discover I am not exactly the same I have always been. It is really a surprise when I discover just how much words mean to me and I want to use them in the best way I can. That's how I noticed the change in myself: I didn't want to give my friend the old stale words and hope she would feel better. She is really grieving and the old stale words wouldn't have helped, just been there helping her to feel a little more lost, just perhaps not quite as alone. Now she is experiencing friendship and knows I won't, we won't, stand idly by and let her go through something painful alone. We are going to be there for her.

Sometimes growing makes you quite humble.

Yep

Kolbar has a tendency to do something very similiar to me.  Sometimes he will say, "Why not a pizza?"  I usually agree.  (Who, really, in their right mind, says "no" to pizza?  Even if you are following the Stallone rule of eating and only take 3 bites of the thing, do you EVER say "no"?)  Then he says, "You call."  I call.  The pizza place answers and then he, Kolbar, must know EVERYTHING that goes on the pizza.  So, for the next few minutes we discuss, with the pizza guy, the creation of our pizzas.  We usually get two: one for him, one for me.  Why?  Because he usually does the pineapple thing, and, although it may be widely accepted, even loved, putting pineapple on pizza is just simply WRONG.

The World of "New" Wrestling?

Being the wrestling fandom geek I am I found myself being just a little bored of my beloved wrestling. No, I still love the performers of extradinary size and musculature just as much (regular readers already know my favorites), the story lines were just getting old. I was ready for something new. It seems most of the wrestling world was ready for something new. Now we have it.

WWE SmackDown! has a new and different agenda. It has moved from Thursday nights to Fridays, which is going to cause a huge uproar with my TV watching schedule, and now something else. The first our is going to be broadcast on WWE.com. The second hour on UPN.

http://www.wwe.com/shows/smackdown/

I really want to watch my Sci Fi Friday shows, but I really like the line-up that is happening this new day. I am also very interested in seeing what is going to happen with the matches and if any of them will be uncut and if you have to pay for them on WWE.com. It is most interesting. Life, as we know it, in the wrestling world may be changing, but for the better.

Fiction, The House Guest

Hello, finally some more fiction! The next piece of Fantasy Revealed will finally be up next week. I finally have those weird coding problems dealt with I believe.

The House Guest
By Bonnie Gibson
Copyright (C) 2005 by Bonnie Gibson


"Time to get up kids, you can’t spend summer vacation in bed; there’s too many things to do," called Margaret Sampson to her children as she opened their bedroom door.

"Oh Mom," said Jerry, the oldest, "we don’t like it here. Why do we have to come here every summer?"

"Cause Mom and Dad want to get away from everyone, the phones, TV, everything," mumbled Scott, their eight-year-old son.

"There’s plenty to do if you look for it," said Margaret. "Get up and go down to the lake and fish. Fishing is fun if you’d give it a try."

The boys got up and got dressed. They went into the kitchen to get breakfast. Margaret had fixed a really good breakfast. Scrambled eggs, grits, bacon, and home made biscuits. This is the one thing that they liked about coming to the cabin on the lake for summer, the good breakfast.

Back at home in New York, they had had a busy life. Margaret worked full time as a legal secretary. Sometimes it would be after dark before she got home. Thomas was a firefighter and spent a lot of time away from home. There wasn’t much time for the boys in their life. They had a busy schedule just making a living. The boys came home from school every day and were by themselves until their parents got home. They did their homework and then played video games or watched TV. They didn’t get outside much. Living in the city was tough and their parents wouldn’t allow them to go out into the streets to play. Jerry was fourteen, plenty old enough to be left baby sitting Scott.

Scott was infatuated with fire. Since his father was a firefighter it made him curious about fire. Several times Jerry had caught him playing with matches in the apartment. Jerry didn’t tell on him, afraid his parents might want to hire a baby sitter. Jerry sure didn’t need a baby sitter. He was old enough to handle anything coming his way.

"Your mom and I are going down to the lake," Thomas told the boys. "Would you two like to come with us? We are taking the boat out today."

"Not me Dad," spoke up Jerry. "I’ll just hang around here. I don’t like the water."

"Me either," said Scott. "I’m going to stay with Jerry."

"Well okay, but you’re going to miss the fun," Thomas said.

Thomas and Margaret left. The boys finished eating and got up from the table. Jerry went to his room and Scott walked over to the window to see if he could see the squirrels eating at the feeder. He turned around and saw a lady in the kitchen. She was cleaning up the plates that they had just eaten in. She took them over to the sink and began washing them. Scott went over to her and began talking to her. He asked her who she was and if his mother had hired her to clean for her. She didn’t respond to Scott’s questions. She just continued to clean up the kitchen.

Scott went to tell Jerry about the lady. "She’s in the kitchen now," he said.
"She’s cleaning everything up."

"That’s good Scott," Jerry said. "Mom probably hired her to help out. Remember this is summer vacation for all of us. Mom doesn’t want to work all the time."

"But why doesn’t she talk to me?" Scott asked. "She won’t even look at me. She acts like I’m not even there."

"She’s just busy and doesn’t want to be bothered," Jerry said. "Find you something to do. Just leave me alone."

When Scott's parents got home he asked his mother about the lady. "Oh she’s just helping me with the chores. Just leave her alone. She doesn’t want to be bothered with kids."

Scott went outside and found a large stick. He had a knife and he wanted to whittle at the stick. He wanted to try and whittle a boat out of it. He had seen one in a store nearby and wanted to make one himself. He sat down on a tree stump and began to cut at the stick. First he cut off all the bark. Then he began cutting little bits of wood off at a time.

He noticed a man working on a car that was parked in his yard. He had the hood of his car up and was looking over into the motor. "Hi Mister," Scott said. The man never acknowledged that Scott was talking to him. "Are you checking your oil?" he asked. Still the man didn’t answer Scott. Why don’t people talk to me? Scott thought. He tried again. He turned to the man and asked another question. The man never answered. Giving up, Scott started to turn and go back to where he was seated on the tree stump. Before he could turn around the man started walking toward him. Scott just stood still; thinking maybe the man was finally going to say something to him. The man got closer and closer and finally ran right into Scott and right through him and kept going. The man never stopped. Scott wanted to run but he couldn’t. His feet froze to the ground. He’s a ghost, he thought.

Finally Scott managed to move. He ran as fast as he could into the house to tell his parents. "You’re just imagining things," they said. "Now just forget about it and go and play."

Scott continued to see the man outside. Sometimes he’d be cutting grass, sometimes just walking around in the yard. He tried to speak to him but the man wouldn’t even look at him. Finally Scott managed to get up enough courage to walk up to the man and tap him on his arm. The man immediately looked right at Scott, his eyes got big. He had a frightened look on his face and ran into the house. Scott went in after him but couldn’t find him in the house. He began telling his parents about what had happened and asking where was the man. His parents were really irritated with him. "Just leave them alone Scott," his father said. "They are just helping out around here for us this summer while we are here."

"The man is a ghost" Scott screamed. "He walked right through me. He is a ghost."

"If you continue this nonsense, I’m going to have to punish you," his father said. Now go to your room and don’t come out until I say you can."

Scott reluctantly went to his room. He tried to tell Jerry but Jerry wasn’t listening either. "Don’t bother me with your ghost stories," he said. "Can’t you find something to keep you busy?"

Thomas came to the door. "We are going out now. Scott, you can come out but you’d better be off the subject of ghosts when we get back."

Scott came out of his room. He wanted desperately to find out more about the man and the woman. He wondered if she was a ghost too. She was in the kitchen when he came out. He walked up to her and started talking. She never acknowledged him being there. She had turned on the radio and was moving to the music.

What is this music? Scott thought. I’ve never heard that song before. Just then the music stopped and the news came on. The newsman announced, "It’s 11 oclock AM June 5, 1998. Time for the local weather."

Scott was alarmed. He knew that it was the year 1995. Why would this newscaster be saying it was 1998? If it were 1998 he’d be 11 years old. He was only 8. He watched the lady. She didn’t seem to be alarmed at the radio announcer saying it was 1998. Something was very wrong.

After the weatherman was finished with the forecast, the music began again. The lady had the dishrag in her hand and was gently wiping the counter tops while singing with the music; another song that he had never heard. He tried once again to talk to her. He had to speak loudly because of the music. Still, she never acknowledged him. He was sure of it; she was a ghost. But he was still puzzled over the radio announcer saying it was the year 1998. Was she a ghost of the future? Was he in the future? Scott walked over, reached up to the radio and turned it off. The lady stopped in her tracks. Scott reached over to the lady and tugged at her arm. She immediately looked down at him and screamed. She ran out of the house. Scott followed her out of the house to see where she was going. He peaked around a bush and saw her talking to her husband. She was crying. He listened to what she was saying to him. "All we want is for them to leave us alone," the lady said. "We bought this land in confidence and built our house here. We didn’t know the full story behind it. I knew the other house that was here burned down and the people died. I think the couple had two boys. It must be the little boy who started the fire," she said to her husband.

"Yes, it must be, he said, “he doesn’t have peace so he’s coming back here to find it. I don’t think he means to hurt us."

"But what if he burns our house down?" Scott heard the lady ask. "We may be sleeping at night and burn up just like he and his family did. I heard he got up into the night and started a fire. They all burned up in the fire."

Scott was terrified at hearing this. I can’t believe it, he thought. He ran to out into the woods. He just kept running. Branches of trees were hitting him in the face. Finally he stopped and sat down. His memory was returning. He remembered that he didn’t want to leave his New York home to go to the lake house for the summer. He and Jerry had friends and wanted to spend one summer at home. Every year his parents wanted to go to the lake house. Jerry had a girlfriend. His parents didn’t know but she’d come over after school while they were at work. Sometimes she’d bring her little sister. She and Scott would play all afternoon together.

He remembered getting to the lake house. It was the very first night after they had arrived. He was in his room in bed but couldn’t sleep. His parents and his brother were fast asleep. He eased out of bed as to not wake his brother and gently opened his bedroom door. He went into the kitchen to find a snack. After eating a few cookies, he opened the back door that led to the deck. He sat down in the doorway. Sitting right beside him was a box of matches that his father had used to light the grill that evening. He couldn’t believe that his dad had left the matches out. He was always talking about fire safety. He reached down and picked up the box of matches. He just couldn’t resist striking one. One led to another. He struck another one but held it a little too long. It started burning his finger so he threw it down. It landed right on top of the charcoal starter bottle. Flames started coming out of the bottle. He jumped up to find something to put out the fire, stumbled and fell, hitting his head on a ceramic flowerpot sitting nearby. That’s all he could remember.

Oh no, he thought. It was my fault. I burned my family and myself up in the house. "I didn’t mean to," he cried. "I loved my family. I really didn’t mind coming to the lake house. I knew Jerry wanted to stay at home to be with his girlfriend. I just wanted Jerry to be happy."

Scott looked up to see his father, mother, and brother standing beside him. They were all smiling. "Scott," his mother said. "We never blamed you son. You are just a little boy."

"Yeah Scott," his father said. "It was my fault. I should have never left the matches out like I did. I knew better. I am a fireman. We love you son and want you to be at peace. It wasn’t your fault. You tried to put out the fire but you stumbled and fell. It knocked you out when you hit your head. You never knew anything after that. I know you would have put the fire out. You’re a good little boy."

"Scott," Jerry said. "I was selfish. I knew that you really liked coming to the lake house. I also knew that you liked pleasing me. I took advantage of that. I’m so sorry. Now no one blames you. We all love you, so be at peace my little brother."

The couple who lived in the house suddenly felt the presence of someone around them. At first they were frightened. Then they felt a sense of peace. They hugged each other and the man said, "it’s going to be okay now Maria."

"Yes," said Maria, "I can feel it too Randy."

Scott and his family were looking at them. "Be at peace," they said and vanished into thin air.






Bonnie Gibson owns and operates a bookstore in Thomasville, Alabama. She also lives in Thomasville with her husband John. She has three grown children and three granddaughters. She loves to read and write in her spare time. She has had two books published.

Feast of the Nativity of the Theotokos

For those who do not know, "Theotokos", which means "God bearer" is a title given to the Virgin Mary in the Orthodox faith. And the "nativity" simply means the celebration of birth. How else would Christ have come into the world as a child except through a woman? Thus all nations call her blessed.

The Nativity of the Theotokos Thursday, September 8, 2005
3rd Vespers at the Nativity of the Theotokos: Proverbs 9:1-11 Epistle:
Philippians 2:5-11 Gospel: St. Luke 10:38-42; 11:27-28 [KJV]

Deliverer of our Souls: St. Luke 10:38-42; 11:27-28, especially vss.
27, 28:

“And it came to pass, as He spake these things, a certain woman of the company lifted up her voice, and said unto Him, ‘Blessed is the
womb that bare Thee, and the paps which Thou hast sucked.’ But He said, ‘Yea, rather, blessed are they that hear the word of God, and keep it.’”

Through this “certain woman of the company,” God revealed the truth
concerning the Theotokos - that she is “blessed,” which she even
prophesied of herself (Lk. 1:48). Her womb was blessed, for Christ our
God took flesh from that womb to redeem our flesh. Her breasts were
blessed, for by them He was nourished for earthly life and ministry.
However, primarily, we call the Theotokos blessed because she ‘heard
the word of God and kept it’ (Lk. 11:28).

The Theotokos is called blessed especially because supremely she lived
the conditions of blessedness disclosed by the Lord Jesus in the
Beatitudes: poverty of spirit, mourning, meekness, hunger for
righteousness, mercy, purity of heart, and the enduring of persecution
and slander because of Him (Mt. 5:3-12). She embodied within herself
the way by which the Deliverer of our souls extends His blessing to our
cursed and fallen race so that we may achieve theosis.

As the Beatitudes are set at the beginning of the Lord’s first public
teaching (Mt. 5:1-12), the Sermon on the Mount (Mt. 5:1-7:27), so the
Theotokos was the first of the new race called Christians who strive to
incorporate these spiritual truths as foundations for living. She
models what God achieves whenever a person takes the Beatitudes as the
operational criteria for every choice and action. In response, the
Deliverer of souls meets us in that effort and presents Himself to us
as a yoke-mate (Mt. 11:29) with all the power required to bring us to
blessedness.

What the Church knows from meditation on and observation of the person and life of the Virgin Mary is that her Son also became her Deliverer, enabling her to attain theosis, the full blessed union of heart, soul, and body with the living God. That Mary conceived the Deliverer was a gift she accepted. The “woman of that company” rightly discerned that, by obedience and faithfulness, the Theotokos achieved that special unique state of blessed deification.

The Beatitudes are the perfect guide for striving as did the Theotokos to attain union with the Deliverer of our souls. Can you imagine
greater poverty of spirit than she displayed? “He has regarded the low estate of His handmaiden” (Lk. 1:48). Let us not be ashamed to say, “I have sinned against heaven and before Thee, and am not worthy to lift up my eyes to the height of Thy glory.” What greater mourning could there be than “the sword [which] pierced her heart” (Lk. 2:35) when her beloved Son and Deliverer said, “Woman, behold your son!” (Jn. 19:26)?

“Let us not be exalted in our own thoughts, but humble ourselves and cry contritely, God forgive us our sins.” What greater meekness could we seek? “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord” (Lk. 1:38). Let us show our hunger for righteousness and say with her, “Let it be to me according to your word” (Lk. 1:38), and pursue mercy as when she pointed out, “They have no wine” (Jn. 2:3). We, too, may introduce peace into confusion as she did: “Do whatever He tells you” (Jn. 2:5).

Consider her personal cross as she stood before the Cross of the Deliverer in silence; and let her be our icon in all our affliction and persecution.

Following the Dormition of the Theotokos, when her tomb was opened for
Thomas, the company of Apostles discovered that the Deliverer “Who dwelt in her ever-virgin womb did translate her to life.” May He also bless us to follow her in keeping the Beatitudes!

O Deliverer of our souls, having wrought salvation in the flesh, renew us to life immortal.

Photobucket

This is a test post from Photobucket.com

This is spookily weird. Yesterday my potassium decided to take a vacation from me for a little while, so really had to put the potassium back into me. One of my sisters called and she was going over all of the foods that are high in potassium, one of which is potato chips.

"How about potato chips? Eat some of those."

"I don't have any potato chips."

"You don't have any potato chips?!"

I don't believe I have heard that tone of utter surprise in anyone's voice in quite a while, and now Garfield speaks of chips. When did potato chips become a vital point of the diet for Americans?

To say it is "surprising" would not be all that correct, to say I am "startled" would be, perhaps, a little more accurate.

Mommy's Birthday Celebration

September 25th is my Mommy's birthday. She would have been eighty-seven years old this year. The past few times her birthday has been close I have not done well emotionally. I have felt her absence more on her birthday anniversary than almost at any other time, except for perhaps at Christmas.

I have tried to fill these passed events with so much to do I did not have time to think about what the day truly was, but when I managed to succeed (if I managed at all) as I would lay down to rest the grief would be over-whelming and intense, fresh and new. If friends managed to come and try and keep me occupied by the time the day was over, or the events of an evening, I still had to lie down to try and rest, to sleep to prepare for the next day and the old problem would still be there: I would think of Mommy and miss her and grieve just as much as before.

Last year I did not run from the fact it was Mommy's birthday so much. It hurt and I accepted it. I mourned fresh and new just like the times before and for the following week I had to figure out how to breathe again, how to live and BE as she would have wanted me too. Now, a new year has arrived and her birthday is close, and I am tired of hurting so much so I am going to do something totally different and it is all B's suggestion: I am going to make her a cake and I am going to cook a wonderful meal, and I am going to remember my Mommy with love and joy.

Yes, it is going to hurt, but I believe it is going to hurt less merely because I am acknowledging her absence, but not her loss. I am going to celebrate her life, her birth and I am possibly going to invite some very dear, close friends to enjoy the food and cake with me and B. If my mind changes and it is just B and I, this will be enough, probably more than enough. (Cheyenne was going to try and come in when I mentioned it to him, but he can't.) The important thing is remembering and honoring the woman who gave me so much of her life in order that I might simply live.

Fantasy Revealed, Part vi

Here it is finally! Part vi is up and running. Part vii is on its way and it is very ... well, you'll see. Enjoy.




Fantasy Revealed, Part vi
By H.A. Handy
Copyright (c) 2005 by H.A. Handy



--VI--


As if both of us were cued off stage, we turned and looked back at where the King and retinue were advancing. Were they shocked? The king didn’t seem to be acting any differently, but, surely he would think something strange of me, right? I mean I felt strange about me as it was!

Dremor looked down at me curiously.

“Could you do that before?” he asked. I shook my head. It was true of course.

The world suddenly grew dark. I knew I was there with Dremor, but I was also somewhere else. Somewhere filled with horrible darkness and pain that seemed to riddle my entire body and made me wish I was anywhere else but where I was. Just as suddenly as this feeling came I was very much aware I wanted others, every living thing I could capture, to hurt just as badly. If it wasn’t going to stop, then others would join me, others would suffer.

Then there was quiet blackness filled only with screaming. My screams.

What do you say? What do you do?

So much has happened along the Gulf that when I think of it, try imagine what it is like, my brain freezes. It cannot comprehend what is happening in Mississippi and Louisiana.

My heart aches to do something to help. My husband and I do not have the financial resources to where we CAN help, even going down there to try and help those we could possibly meet. Still, we pray.

At least we can pray.

Yep, This Is How I'm Feelin'

Fiction by Chris Bartholomew, Sharing an Anjuline World

Sharing an Anjuline World
By Chris Bartholomew
Copyright (c) by Chris Bartholomew


In times past, aliens have lived on the earth, mixed with the people. A large group of them founded another world underneath the sea. Since this was the most beautiful place any of them had ever seen, they decided to have families and live there forever. Wild vegetables and grains grew there, and of course, there were the fish.

They named the world Anjul, after the planet they had come from. Although they were in many ways similar to humans, they were more accustomed to dim light instead of bright sunlight people are used to. The caves under the ocean were perfect for them. It was cool, the walls were fluorescent somehow so that they could see, and it was beautiful.

At ten-year intervals, the sun would filter through the ocean and shine on the waterfall, making all the colors of the spectrum shoot through the land. The young and old appreciated, and looked forward to this manifestation. It was like the eclipse is special to those who lived above, but more beautiful.

From time to time, people happened upon the world by mistake, going through the waterfall underneath the sea. Their world was made away from the waterfall, just in case someone wandered in. Sometimes, people would come in and then after looking around for awhile, they'd leave, but there were times when whoever happened by would investigate more, and their world was found. Many were allowed to stay and families were made there.

These were lovely people, but soon their world was on the brink of over-population, so they had to quit letting those who wandered in, stay. They had the ability to erase memories, so people couldn't find their way back. In this land, everyone had people to take care of and they took pride in the fact that no one lacked for anything they needed. They hated to turn people away, but there was no choice.

All of the other inhabitants of the land called the aliens who founded this world Superior. They had made all of the rules for the people to live by and it was a peaceful place.

Anjuline lived in that world within ours. She was named by her mother, so happy was she to be able to raise her child there. One day, Anjuline went to talk to Superior. She was not really dreading this, but was a little nervous – just a little.

"This is a request from my family and me. Two people swam down and found the entrance, and they want to stay. As the custom is to erase the memory, I wanted to ask permission just this once," she told the Superior.

"Anjuline, what is so special about these two? You know we never let them stay anymore. We made that decision long ago, because we didn't want to be overcrowded. If you can prove to me that they would be worthy, and of some type of help here, I will take it under consideration," the Superior said.

"Well, you see, I am sad lately, and find myself thinking there is nothing new to do here. I have found through these two people that I have taken my life for granted. I've been doing my job, and taking care of people as instructed, yet I am not happy," she explained.

"My dear, what does that have to do with the reason you are requesting that they be allowed to stay?" he asked her.

"There have been many to come here, but this is the first time I've seen them cross over. How they looked amazed me. They told me that this place is the most beautiful they have ever seen. They said it makes them happy just to look at the surroundings. They made me remember how I felt when I was young and just learning of life," Anjuline said dreamingly.

"Well, it is a nice feeling, to be admired for your world, but how does that explain why you think they should be allowed to stay, when we've turned so many away? Why is this helpful to you?" superior asked.

"They say that in comparison to their own world, this one is where they want to be. Everything they gaze upon is new and wonderful to them. If you allow them to stay, then in ten years, when their sun touches the waterfall, they will see the most beautiful thing they will ever see. I want this for them. I've seen it six times; I'd love for them to see it once. I feel as if these two have given me back my life."

"This is very sweet of you Anjuline, but how did they make you feel that way?"

"Because when I see their happiness just being here, it makes me see things differently, it makes me happy. Through them, I understand that I have taken everything we have here for granted. One of the things about beauty that makes it attractive is being able to share it with others. Everyone says seeing the beauty of sun and the waterfall alone makes it worth being here."

"What do these two people from above say about staying here? Have you even asked them? You say this request is from your family and you, yet only you come, why is that?"

"My family thinks you will be mad at me for asking. They would not come, but they are showing them around as we speak. Everyone likes these people and they and would like to stay here."

"Please explain to them that they may stay, but they will have to abide by the rules. They must take care of someone. I think I will assign them to your house; they can take care of you. Mind that they understand that they cannot go home again after they have been here for one whole day. After twenty-four hours is up, I will erase the way to the door from their minds, and they won't allowed be to leave. It's too risky to let people who have disappeared from above re-appear there later."

"I understand, and I will tell them everything you say. Thank you for giving us this gift, I know it will make all of us better, knowing that we have a wonderful world that others would love to share with us."

"Anjuline, understand that they may decide not to stay after they have thought about their world. I know that to them this one seems better for the moment, but they have ties to the world they came from. Know also that we all take things for granted, but something always comes along to snap us out of it, even if for just a short time. Go now and tell them how you appreciate their take on your world. Enjoy it for however long they are here."

After obtaining permission from Superior, Anjuline went to tell the people that they could stay if they wished. Her family told her that they had already gone home after considering their lives and their families. She was sad, yet remembered Superiors words that something always comes along, even if for just a short time.

Anjuline decided after this never to take her life for granted again, finding new things to do and by thinking of others.

She felt happy and contented to the end of her days, which just happened to be right after the sun from above hit the waterfall. Anjuline was the sweetest and most beloved of all, and everyone in her world was happy that she had been able to see that one last time.

End

The Forty Year Old Virgin, a movie review

Saturday yours truly and B along with a friend we had not seen since she returned from France (and which she will be returning to at the end of September) met up because she wanted to hang out and see a movie. It was her choice of movie so we went to see The Forty Year Old Virgin starring Steve Carell as the nice forty year old virgin Andy, along with his three friends, David, Jay and Cal (Paul Rudd, Romany Malco, and Seth Rogan, respectively) who give him advice on how to get laid. Andy (Steve Carell) is reluctant but, of course, wants sex and goes through torture trying to get laid. Finally he meets someone he really likes, Trish, played by Catherine Keener, who is a single mother of three as well as a new grandmother as she says, "One of my kids has a kid."

This movie has a lot of potential, but, all in all, if we had not been with our friend, I would have requested my money back from the ticket office and left. Why? Because you heard the word "pussy" so much it became boring and distasteful. You also heard "fuck" every other word it seems and all in all it made me uncomfortable. I was uncomfortable that this movie was supposed to be funny and although it had funny moments and the ending was beyond hilarious, it wasn't enough to make me want to pay the $11.50 to see the movie, and how the people went through their scenes was painful. It worked only when you let yourself not think and revert to the adolescent years and only then if you were willing to be that screwed up again. I suppose I am not.

The theater was filled with younglings and they laughed and almost became upset when the virgin Andy didn't get laid until his wedding night. This was positive. This was good. And afterwards, it was funny. But getting from the beginning to the ending was painful! One man cheats on his girlfriend until he discovers she is pregnant with his child, and even then you wonder if he is going to stick to being faithful because he was nothing but a self-admitted man-whore. One friend was stalking an ex-girlfriend which had broken up with him two years prior and he had decided he wasn't going to sleep around but be celibate. And finally we have Cal who is a pot-smoking good guy despite his best half-hearted efforts to help Andy, the virgin, get laid.

There are snippets of pornography in the movie because Andy lights candles and settles down to have some quality pleasuring time with himself, and he just finally puts in another movie because that type of sex is not what he is looking for.

Trish, played by Catherine Keener, is a winner. She falls in love with Andy and wonders why he doesn't want to make love to her. It takes a bike and car chase scene for her to discover Andy is still a virgin, even though her teenage daughter figures it out fairly quickly.

As I said, there are funny moments, but not enough to make this a good movie - they were not consistent. If this movie was made to help push keeping your virginity until you find the right one, they maybe it worked. All I know is that I highly discourage people to see this movie because it just isn't good, unless you are in the ages of 18-25, then, perhaps it will be funny.

From one of the Master Poets

It is not Always May
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

No hay pajaros en los nidos de antano.
Spanish Proverb

The sun is bright,--the air is clear,
The darting swallows soar and sing.
And from the stately elms I hear
The bluebird prophesying Spring.

So blue you winding river flows,
It seems an outlet from the sky,
Where waiting till the west-wind blows,
The freighted clouds at anchor lie.

All things are new;--the buds, the leaves,
That gild the elm-tree's nodding crest,
And even the nest beneath the eaves;--
There are no birds in last year's nest!

All things rejoice in youth and love,
The fulness of their first delight!
And learn from the soft heavens above
The melting tenderness of night.

Maiden, that read'st this simple rhyme,
Enjoy thy youth, it will not stay;
Enjoy the fragrance of thy prime,
For oh, it is not always May!

Enjoy the Spring of Love and Youth,
To some good angel leave the rest;
For Time will teach thee soon the truth,
There are no birds in last year's nest!

A quick poem.

Unduly Refined
By H.A. Handy
Copyright (c) 2005 by H.A. Handy

Purple tassels
Blue fringe
Creamy pale milk white skin

Button nose
Amber eyes
Imagination unduly refined

I Think Not Me Buck O!

I was tooling around the 'Net today and spied this lovely little photo. What person in their right mind would kneel down by a truck where a dog is seriously thinking of making a few puncture holes in you?! Yes, I see the person's hand there holding the dog back...ahem...but I do not see anything in the dog's face saying, "O yes, I am just playing with you really. I don't really want to come over there and chomp your face full of holes." And can you see the owner's smile? It's there. It is half hidden by part of the dog's head, but it is there. Can't you imagine what that smile means? "Yes, that's right you dodo, I told you to leave my dog alone, and if you come any closer I will just let my hand slip and you will have to fend for yourself. Some people are so dumb where animals are concerned. Yes, that's right, go on and get yourself bit you moron."

Some people are really stupid when it comes to animals. They take them for "things" instead of creatures that have feelings and can love you back, or hate you, depending on how you treat them and how they are taught to treat a human. Wild animals are wild and deserve to be photographed (from a nice safe distance, especially where bears are concerned) and left to be beautiful not yelled at and garbage thrown at them. Have I seen this? Yes. Or people driving by and shooting them. Have I seen this? Yes. Some people are really stupid when it comes to animals.

Gail Godwin Has Confused Me

"The best antidote I have found is to yearn for something. As long as you yearn, you can't congeal: There is a forward motion to yearning."

– Gail Godwin

OK, I'm dense today because I simply don't get this one. Anyone out there like to give me a clue as to what this means?

Now and Then

I have wondered, more than once, where stars of my favorite shows are now and what they look like. So, I decided to look up photos of then and now of The Dukes of Hazzard just to see what the original cast members look like now as compared to then and this is what I discovered.



This was then. Uncle Jesse, Denver Pyle, passed away in 1997 right after the Dukes of Hazzard Reunion movie.



And this is them now at the CMT music awards. They don't look half bad.



Bo and Luke Duke then.









And this is now. Tom Wopat looks as if he has had a rough row to hoe but he still looks good, and what can you say about John Schneider other than he looks mighty fine! What else would you expect from Pa Kent? I believe part of Tom Wopat's charm is that he has that "everyman" quality and not just the star/muscian look. His eyes are still dashing aren't they.

I couldn't find a current picture of Catherine Bach except for the CMT photo which was a little sad, so didn't want to put up her old poster shot. How many guys did I know in the '70s that had that poster up on their wall or in their locker or something?! It was a fair number, more than I want to try and count.

What other shows did I love and watch almost religiously? Of course there was Gilligan's Island but SO much has been done on them what fun would it be to look them up? Batman of course and the old Tarzan series way back in the 1960s and I think early '70s. Who knows what I will come up with next!

A Wee Bit Stymied

OK, have been playing with the code to get things to post for Fantasy Revealed and still having problems. This annoys me. This annoys me very badly. I haven't given up, of course, the next portion is awesome! So, in the meantime, enjoy some poetry.


Expectations
By H.A. Handy
Copyright (c) 2005 by H.A. Handy

Each of us have expectations -
Life will go on tomorrow
There will be something to eat on the table
Or from the restaraunt
And we have enough time to do
All the things we've been dreaming of

We expect satisfaction
And failing that
We mourn for a bit
Spoiled children we are
Long over-due for that cosmic whupping

Sadly, we never seem to expect love
We take it for granted
We think it will always be there
Or that we will find it
And all our troubles will be over

But loving brings responcibility
And the other's expectations must be considered
And time doesn't always work out
So that we have all the time we need
With our beloved.

OK, something screwy

I have tried to post for the past couple of days - a new section of Fantasy Revealed and a poem today. They simply do not work and vanish when I press PUBLISH so there will be much to read tomorrow when I get all of these bats out of the News' belfry.

Ponderfications Extradinaire!

WHRTTT is finished, at the moment. My brain keeps teasing me with bits I could add here and there and how I could make it longer. I am almost positive it will be rejected or the editor will encourage me to "make it longer" so if he or she does I can be right on the money there. And, since WHRTTT is done I find myself turning to a new character that is beginning to have a lot of interest for me: His first name is Relick. I rather like how the story is progressing and I can almost feel or sense his story is going to be novel length as well.

There is a lot to come out in this story for Relick. He has a wife to save, a boy to figure out, and a life to live. He reminds me of the important men in my life all rolled into one. Hopefully others will find him as interesting as I currently do.

Since there is a new novel under way I find myself looking at my present life in earnest and seeing just how many hours are in the day in order to get writing done, cooking done, kitchen work done, and time with B ordered so we actually have time together. This means, of course, getting as much done during the day as possible. Now added to this mix is getting people to help with the clothing sale at Church (it was a "nice" surprise to discover we were in charge now of that yesterday) which is happening this coming weekend, commitments with a friend which also happens this week, and those little odds and ends you need to do just to have a life. As I said, I am looking at my life in earnest and I am seeing clearly, for the first time, just how much I do and can do from a wheelchair and I am finding myself stunned.

It seems as if God is showing me in large blinking fuchsia letters YOU HAVE A LIFE. When I have discovered I have indeed had a life I have become frightened and tried to hide in some other avenue so I wouldn't have to contend with so much because in some distant reach of my brain I have thought often that I do not have a life and never will. It is frightening sometimes to discover differences and life. This time I am not running away, but I am facing my life with a smile and squared shoulders with my prayer rope firmly in hand and my faith before me.

I think that is one reason why I like this story with Relick so much: He is surprised at discovering his own life and he doesn't quite know what to do with it at times. Maybe together he and I will figure a good chunk of it out.

Character Process

In writing WHRTT I have no qualms in saying this man is the basis for the character of Cook. For those of you who do not know, this is The Undertaker, a professional wrestler, during his "American Bad Ass" phase. This is Cook. There just isn't any getting around it.

Of course, not everything about 'Taker is Cook. His personality is, well, my own creation, a fantasy of my very own, but his look, his look is right here, almost. Cook doesn't have some things of this wonderful physique, but, you have to admit, for someone to be an enigmatic figure, you can't get any better than this particular picture. This fellow could be a 'good ol' boy' or a biker, both or something as yet unnamed.

Recently, in writing, I've noticed that if I have a general idea of how someone looks, they come alive in many different ways for me and my weird imagination. It is as if I can see the character in another way, even though, in reality, my Cook is nothing like this persona, yet in my head it is close enough to write about. Sometimes I believe all writers do this, they have certain actors in the back of their minds who could pull off a particular character, and if WHRTTT ever makes it to the big screen, this is the guy that needs to play him.

A Movie Review - The Dukes of Hazzard

A MOVIE REVIEW – THE DUKES OF HAZZARD
By H.A. Handy



I have to admit, when I heard they were making The Dukes of Hazzard into a movie, I was, let’s say, filled with trepidation. Why? Because The Dukes of Hazzard television show was good, fun, hokey and filled with fast cars, good looking good ol’ boys and pretty girls. You couldn’t beat it when I was younger, especially since I grew up in Leslie County which was right next to Perry County whose county seat was the town of Hazard. I mean, there were simply too many comparisons you could honestly make (and we were in Kentucky instead of Georgia). Plus, I had cousins who were young, fearless and foolish and had their own “Dukes of Hazzard” race where, well, one was playing the Dukes and racing down a curvy mountain road being chased by his brother in the local sheriff’s car they had been working on at the body shop. So, yeah, I have fond memories of the television series and I honestly didn’t want it messed with. Those were happy times, fun times, hard times, times I can never go back to.

When I found out who was playing which character in the film I was down right worried. Johnny Knoxville playing Luke Duke? Please! Couldn’t they find someone handsome to play Luke Duke? And Sean William Scott as Bo? Yeah, he can look scuzzy.

Having Willie Nelson play Uncle Jessie wasn’t too bad. I was convinced he could pull it off, and he was the only reason I decided I would go to see the movie.

The worst selection I thought the movie powers had made was casting Jessica Simpson in the role of Daisy. Jessica is a pretty girl and all, but after seeing “Newly Weds” or whatever that show was called, I wasn’t convinced.

Then I saw the video for “These Boots” and sort of changed my mind (she still doesn’t have enough butt though).

I can say, watching the movie was down right fun. It was fun in a nostalgic happy way I haven’t seen a movie in a long time. There were scenes where I could see my cousins doing some of the stupid things those guys did. I laughed heartily and gave up to the hokiness of the movie that was actually doing pretty good homage to the show.

Not all movies are made so you “think” about anything serious. Some movies give you time just to enjoy what is going on there on the screen and make as much fun of themselves as anything else they are doing.

Yeah, the movie could have been better. The cast could have been different (more handsome) but it wouldn’t have been the same movie with all of the chuckles and laughter I heard in the theater along with my own.

One of the best parts in the movie is when the Duke boys are driving into Atlanta and the reactions they were getting from the motorists and their confusion until they saw the Stars and Bars on the roof. This was an honest reaction in Atlanta. I can see it happening.

Go see the movie on the big screen people. It does justice to the car races and the hilarity of nothing less than pure fun. Don’t worry about analyzing it. Don’t try to read something more into it that what is there, because there really isn’t anything else there. Heck, just go see it for the soundtrack if you must, just go see it and enjoy and tell me what YOU think and what memories it brought out in you.

Fantasy Revealed, v

Fantasy Revealed, part v
By H. A. Handy
Copyright (c) 2005 by H.A. Handy


--V—


“Do not endeavor to try and mock me,” English said. He was trembling with rage as he stared at the king.

“Mock you? Mock you? May the heavens forbid such a thing...Lord English. If memory serves me correctly, I made you a lord of Avalon and gave you lands for exceptional service in battle once. If I gave you the title, I can just as easily revoke it!” King Arthur was standing with his feet braced, his hands open and loose at his side, but he seemed poised for grappling. I had never thought of King Arthur as a dangerous man before, but, really, why couldn’t he have been? He was a king who had served in battle and he was also a warrior; most of the time I read the story I was always interested in the romance and not the fighting. Now, standing where I was and hearing his words, seeing his face, made me just a little frightened. What made it even more frightening was the fact I was ever there!

“You wouldn’t dare!” Lord English hissed. He had blanched now and was even more intimidating, at least to me.

“Oh wouldn’t I?”

The two men stared at each other for ages. I discovered I was holding my breath, and looked over to Elise and saw she was tense, white really. Dremor was watching the two men carefully. The other elves, on both sides, appeared poised to attack one another. Suddenly I wished to be back safely in my living room dreaming up these type of scenarios instead of actually living one!

“Please, please,” Fredrick said, as he moved carefully between the two. “Much is happening in our land, it is affecting all of us,” he said. “Please, let us be calm. We have a guest,” he said, turning to look at me with a very disarming smile, “and we should never frighten guests as we are obviously doing.”

“This isn’t over,” Lord English said, loosening his shoulders with a shake.

“Yes, it is,” replied the king, and the knot of fear grew even tighter in my stomach. Dremor’s grasp of my elbow grew just a little more firm. “You are no longer a lord of Avalon. I rescind the award of title, and land.” A paper appeared floating in mid air between Lord English and King Arthur. It turned upon itself and split in two, then vanished in a mass of sparkling dots that reminded me of a Saturday morning cartoon effect.

English was livid now. He was clenching and un-clenching his fists so quickly it was as if he was pumping up to throw a punch. But he didn’t. Instead he wheeled around, mounted his horse and rode away – his elven guard looked at him and then glanced at me, and then King Arthur.

“You may return to your place in the army, of you may follow him,” Arthur was saying. “If you follow him, Avalon’s protection will not be with you.” Two guards dismounted and knelt before King Arthur, but the rest went after Lord English.

Dremor relaxed a little and let us go as King Arthur came back to where we were standing. “Forgive us for our foolishness this day,” King Arthur said to me softly, deeply. “Some things must be done quickly, and I cannot have someone undermining my authority.” I thought this part was said for Elise’s benefit more than mine. She was white as a ghost. “Come daughter, I shall ferry you home!” the king said with a flourish of his arm and he was smiling brightly, though he was observing Elise very closely. Elise took a staggering step toward her father and then seemed to snap out of something, because she smiled and color was slowly beginning to come back into her face. The hand that reached out to her father was trembling I saw.

When King Arthur turned, his daughter’s hand in his own, the people who had gathered cheered. I heard several shouts of “English is gone” mixed with “Long live the king” and “I just know he is in league with the shadows!” King Arthur lifted Elise easily into his saddle, side-saddle of course, and waving and nodding to the crowd who was still cheering, he headed through the gate and into Avalon proper. Dremor, the dogs, and I followed after.

There wasn’t much difference between outside the wall and inside as far as I could tell. There were a number of more well-dressed people, but the majority was still just peasants, shop keepers mostly, trying to make a living just like back in the 21st Century. Still, there was a general happiness in the faces I saw in comparison to the people I met on the street back home. Perhaps I was having a bout of the idea of the rustic-people-know-how-to-really-live. Whatever it was, there were very few pre-occupied faces I saw. Most were beaming and looked genuinely happy. What would they do when we had entered the castle? Would their faces fall and they go back to showing how the honestly felt rather than what they thought they should feel and show for the royalty? I couldn’t help but wonder if some of those thoughts ever went through the king’s mind as he waved and spoke to several people. A vender of vegetables rushed forward and gave the king something that looked like a pear. King Arthur bit into it happily and patted the man on the back and asked how his stall was doing lately. I didn’t catch the reply because Fredrick was suddenly beside me.

“I’m sorry you had to meet us under these conditions,” he said in a softer tone. He glanced up at Dremor with a quizzical look. “Lord English has been trying to play both ends against the middle. Several warned him his intrigues were going to get him into trouble, but he just wouldn’t listen.” Fredrick shook his head and the mass of blond and red curls swayed like seaweed on top of his head. I know the situation had been serious, but his curls nearly made me burst out laughing. “When we are back to the castle and you are refreshed, we will have food and talk f what needs to be done.” Fredrick bowed to me and disappeared with a soft pop. I jumped, and Enyo and Ella woofed. Dremor chuckled and slid his arm through mine.

“He does that,” he said, “it is just something you get used to.” Even though we were walking toward the castle, it still didn’t seem any closer and, frankly, my feet were hurting. It was probably because I hadn’t done so much walking on the ground without tennies that my feet just didn’t know how to handle the ground. All I had on my feet were thread bare slipper scuffs I had had for years. I wished we could just pop to the castle like Fredrick.

And we did. I mean we, because Dremor was with me looking just as shocked as I was.

The Times, and People, Are A Changin'

A PRAYER OF REPENTANCE

O Lord our God, good and merciful, I acknowledge all my sins which I have committed every day of my life, in thought, word and deed; in body and soul alike. I am heartily sorry that I have ever offended thee, and I sincerely repent; with tears I humbly pray thee, O Lord: of thy mercy forgive me all my past transgressions and absolve me from them. I firmly resolve, with the help of Thy Grace, to amend my way of life and to sin no more; that I may walk in the way of the righteous and offer praise and glory to the Name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

I have been going through something, Dear Readers, something that has torn at my very soul, thrashed it about to leave it quite tired, weary, and, well wanting to go on. In all my years of fighting to live I have never felt such a pull to go on, to accept that sweet sleep of eternity (if we do sleep for eternity) because then there will be peace in my life and soul. Falling asleep, death for the non-Orthodox, isn't my choice, of course. Still, to have peace and rest from all the labors of body, mind and soul is a wonderful thing for me to consider at the moment. And, in considering it I must also consider whether or not I have everything straightened out in my life so that I can actually taste that wonderful promised peace.

I have already begun by speaking with the Dormition Monastery and was instructed I needed to write a letter so I will have someone to speak with before I get there and while I'm there. Sometimes it is so much easier to speak with a woman than it is a man about some things. So, I am going to be working on that letter beginning today and tomorrow probably in deep earnest. The nun I spoke with was so kind and gentle, so loving and respectful some of the burden of living did seem to settle and shift to some other place letting my soul inhale deeply for a moment.

No, this doesn't mean I am going to the monastery to become a nun. It does mean, however, I am going to go to the monastery to have a good, soulful rest for once in a very long time, and help to get my head clear and my mind ready for what I need to do in order to straighten out this life of mine.

A dear friend did point out that in "straightening out" this life, it didn't mean not being happy, but to enjoy all of the pleasures God has given. My friend didn't say it that way, but this is what they meant. I know some hard decisions are going to have to be made and I am going to have to break a lot of habits and develop new ones (no pun intended) in order to keep going with what I hope to achieve.

Fantasy Revealed is being worked on and will pop up very soon, but most likely tomorrow. I just wanted to give you a heads up that The News may be changing a bit, as in having a bit more of me personally here, but little else. I suppose that hasn't changed all that much either, it is just letting you, and me, know that I am undergoing a change, and I never like changing like this without some friends somewhere.

Fantasy Revealed, Part iv

As promised, here is the next portion of Fantasy Revealed. Enjoy.

Fantasy Revealed, Part IV
By H.A. Handy
Copyright (c) 2005 by H.A. Handy



-IV-


Horns sounded from the ramparts and people were moving toward the large gates with hope and awe, and a lot of curiosity. They were no more than hard working peasants trying to make a living in the small town that was springing up outside of the gates proper of Avalon. The ground beneath my feet trembled with the approach of many horses. Ella and Enyo snorted. Cappa, in Dremor’s saddlebag sunk down lower into it until nothing could be seen of her, not even her furry little ears.

Dremor was still facing the ground as more men, and women, appeared on horses. They carried different shields from the first group. The first group had shields of black with a red cross; this group had shields of light blue with a white eagle or bird upon them. The leader of the group was a tall man with square shoulders and steely gray hair. He had a beard and mustache that were also steely gray, but his eyes were a dancing blue. With grace he swung down from his saddle and strode toward me.

“My Lord,” Dremor said, bowing even lower and backing away a step or two from me.

Could this possibly be him, King Arthur, the real deal, the man of myth and legend? His ears were only slightly pointed and he was elegant in mien and bearing the likes of which I never really suspected could exist in anyone.

He studied me as closely as I was studying him. Finally he seemed to have made some decision because he stepped forward and extended his hand. Hesitantly I took it and he kissed the back of my hand lightly. He smiled down at me then and, without letting go of my hand, turned to the riders and chuckled. They, in turn burst into laughter.

“It appears we may be on our way to having some answers after all,” King Arthur said jovially. “Come lassie, it is time for you to meet Fredrick and perhaps save a kingdom.”

“Oh, no pressure,” I said as he led me forward. King Arthur’s men, a bunch of hard looking men and women, elven and human, and even a few dwarves were there too I could see.

I don’t remember much about entering the city except for the fact that when we came through the great gates, the castle was in the distance still and was quite huge, even larger than I thought it was from the road. It glistened, too, with different shades of stones and in the tallest tower there were two people moving about. I couldn’t make out any description of them except one seemed to be wearing blood-red clothes. My mind wanted to say “robes” but I couldn’t possibly be correct about that.

The road Dremor and I had been traveling on earlier appeared to end at the castle, which was now our continued destination. People ran up to speak quietly with the king, much to my surprise, and then would bow away. Several times King Arthur would call out to a person and ask how they were doing. In all my years of reading I never expected him to be quite so friendly, I always imagined him to be like a modern king, stand-offish and distant to his people. Of course, that was the 21st Century and this was...well, it wasn’t.

A child came running around the corner of a booth and bumped directly into King Arthur’s leg. Arthur looked down, said something in elvish and lifted it high into the air to spin it around like a top. When he put the child down it was laughing and giggling and dizzy. He steadied it with a very gentle hand and it went running away again.

A woman with long red hair and finer dress than the peasants I had seen so far came around the corner of a vegetable stand with a large basket in her hand filled to the brim with vegetables. She saw the king and came straight to him. King Arthur kissed her on the forehead.

“Keeper, I would like for you to meet my daughter, Elise.” Elise curtsied and smiled at me. She was smaller than her father and very feminine, almost frail.

“Welcome to Avalon,” she said sweetly. “I hope you will be able to help us.”

“I hope I will be able to as well.” And I really meant it. I wanted to help, but I couldn’t figure out for the life of me what could have been hidden in my family for so long that would have any bearing for these people and their current need! It was enough to make you feel overwhelmed and over powered!

More people were coming down from the castle now. They were hurried according to the dust they raised. King Arthur made a soft growling sound and put his hands behind his back and rocked back and forth on his heels and the balls of his feet. Elise came to stand next to me, her eyes still on her father.

The new people were all dressed in blood red attire and carried flags of their own. Dremor came to stand between me and Elise and the dogs came closer to me as well. Maybe I was just over-reacting, but there was something about all of their actions that made me just a little nervous.

One man dismounted and approached. He was lean and tall enough to be considered lanky. He had long black hair and his eyes were equally dark. His skin was pale and delicate. Pointy ears peeked out of his hair and he had almost a ghost-like grace about him, as if his feet did not exactly touch the ground when he walked. Even though his face was set in innocent welcome, it didn’t extend to his eyes. His eyes were cold and calculating.

“Welcome to humble Avalon, Keeper,” he said, bowing low. The elves with him bowed from their horses. “I am Lord English offering my humble services to you.” There was little that was humble about him, I thought. “Our wizard awaits you in the castle hall my lord,” English said, turning to the king with a mixture of syrupy sweetness and malice which seemed barely held in check.

“English, I have not decided if you have been telling the truth of the matter,” King Arthur said suddenly, his voice dropping low. “I requested Fredrick’s presence HERE, not in the hall!”

“Please forgive me, my lord, I was only thinking of the Keeper and her fragile nerves. Fredrick’s appearance may be too much for her!” he said, his eyebrows lifting to emphasize his innocence.

“Fredrick, would you come here please?” King Arthur spoke softly, still rocking up and down on his feet. There was a humming and then a pop and a very small human was before us. He could have been five feet in height, perhaps, but I think he was really much smaller because he was shorter than me by a good foot! His hair was a mass of red and blond curls that went everywhere and his face was handsome and broad, as if he needed a lot of room for expressions there. He wore robes of violet and blue and he held in his right hand a staff with a gem of rich blue. His small hands made intricate signs in the air before he bowed low to the king and then to me.

“I’m sorry, milord,” he said to the ground, “but Lord English thought....”

“I know what he thought,” snapped the king. “But I do not believe I have lost in battle or become infirm? So this means I am still the king here of Avalon, not Lord English, though he does try to secure the throne with many deceits and trickeries.” English pulled himself up to his full height, and then some, because I was certain I saw his robes leave the ground by a good inch. “Elise does not wish to marry you. My son already sees through you at his age, and my dear wife does not wish you in her presence. Now you have disobeyed a direct command and stand before me as if YOUR feelings have something to do with importance here?!” The people were beginning to gather around us. Dremor took my elbow and Elise’s and pulled us slightly away and to the side. The air was tense.

Birthday Excuses

This weekend was my birthday, so, I'm sorry to admit, I lapped every single second of it up and have only now come down from cloud eleventy-one to get back to the normal of what is my life. I'm not complaining, not in the least, just that I let myself enjoy this birthday and now looking at the ordinary parts of my life make it less...enthusiastic. *sigh* Still, I have not forgotten you Dear Readers, and I feel actually quite guilty for not keeping up the flow of things as they should have been. This shows me I need to really work on my writing organization so this doesn't happen again and y'all have something good to read through the week while I am celebrating birthdays and anniversaries and such.

Fantasy Revealed is in the works, but it may be delayed for tomorrow and Friday instead of today and Thursday. And, I have made an interesting observation which is floating around the writing part of my head which I will post here eventually. I'm curious to see if any of you will comment on it.

Now, to the keys!

A Hearty Collection of FICTION and Thoughts

Hello my Dear Readers! Forgive the abscence of anything this week. There have been some technical difficulties on my end - Charlie, the computer, didn't really want to work on anything major, so, we didn't. Needless to say, yours truly is behind on EVERYTHING with a determination to catch up at least a little today.

First and foremost is a piece of fiction from Chris Bartholomew entitled "The Overstocked Pond" which really is something different than what has appeared in The News before. She has a writing style that is almost down-homey and yet can make the icy fingers of uncertainty trip down your spine with ease.

As soon as I can catch up with everything in the other writing departments, I shall have for you two sections of "Fantasy Revealed" and the review of The Dukes of Hazzard for you. Right now, how about some fiction!

The Overstocked Pond
By Chris Bartholomew
Copyright (C) 2005 by Chris Bartholomew

Near the house of Farmer Ray, there was a new pond being dug. No one knew exactly who owned the property but the town was abuzz about the newly developed land. After all, Farmer Ray was a mean old man who wouldn't let anyone near his property and if this pond wasn't intruding on his land, it was close.

Ricky Lambert loved to fish. He was a tall, lanky teen who kept a little to himself and had, by choice, only a few good friends. He did well in school, but always dreamt of summer coming with camping, hiking, and fishing all day and into the night. He was usually alone on these trips. They lived in a small town where everyone knew everyone else.

Ricky got up early one day and decided to ride his bike over to Farmer Ray's place to see how close the pond was to completion. It was only two more months until summer and he was curious if it would be finished so that he could fish, if they stocked the pond.

Halfway down the dirt path to the pond, he stopped short. Farmer Ray was standing in the path with a shotgun in his hand. He raised the gun and pointed it straight at Ricky.

"Hello Sir, I'm Ricky Lambert, and I live just a few roads over," Ricky hollered. "Nice day today. I came to see the pond, are you going to stock it full of fish?"

In answer to Ricky, Farmer Ray shot a few over Ricky's head. Ricky had been terrified, but the farmer couldn't tell it. He smiled when the boy turned around without another word and went peddling away.

When Ricky made it to school, he saw his friends under a tree so he made his way over to where they were.

"Hi guys, what's going on?" Ricky said looking at Tommy Wythe.

Tommy said, "Oh not much, but the other kids are taking bets whether you'll go fishing at the new pond or not. We didn't bet Ricky, we know you aren't stupid enough to go over there."

Ricky just smiled at them.

"We were right to not bet right Ricky, you aren't going fishing there are you? I don't like the look on your face," Jerry Batten said.

"If there are going to be fish there, how can I not go fishing? Everyone knows Farmer Ray isn't the nicest person in town, but he's never killed anyone. I've been yelled at and even shot at before, yeah, I'll go fishing there this summer, as soon as someone tells me he stocked the pond."

"Hey, is that pond the Farmers? Did you find out for sure?" Jimmy asked.

"No, but you can't get there without going on his property. It's not likely he sold land right in the middle of his. People just figured that he wouldn't be building something like that because he's so mean," Ricky said walking away to go to class.

Well into summer, Ricky snuck over to the pond and found it stocked with fish. Over stocked he would say and he couldn't wait to get a line in. He thought it better to go camping and snuck in right after dark, on a full moon where he could see enough to put the tent up.

That night he took out his gear and readied his pole for a night of fishing. About an hour into it, he noticed someone fishing on the other side. He didn't know when the person came, but didn't think it was Farmer Joe, the outline seemed to suggest someone around Ricky's own age. He didn't move until he saw the figure walk away, and then he packed up his gear and went home.

The next day, Ricky couldn't help himself; he had to go again. He went near dark, so he could find the place opposite where he was last night. He wanted to know who was there when he was. He didn't care if it was Farmer Ray, he just wanted to know, and felt that if he could see the figure, they could see him too, so if it was Farmer Joe, he didn't shoot him so Ricky thought maybe his fishing there was okay.

As he put his line into the water, another boy came walking toward where he sat.

"Hi, my names Ricky, didn't I see you here last night when I was fishing?" Ricky asked the boy.

"Hi, I'm Timmy. Yeah, I was here but the fish didn't bite and I went home. I saw you but didn't want to walk clear over to the other side there," the boy said.

"I've never seen you before, are you visiting Farmer Ray?" Ricky asked him.

"Nah, I'm here for good. I'm his son," Timmy laughed and added, "I saw you in the middle of the road when he shot over your head. Thought you handled that pretty well, at least you weren't crying or anything."

They fished and camped together for three days, and then it was time for Ricky to go home. They parted ways at the fork in the dirt road and promised to meet again at the beginning of the next week.

Ricky went home and showered and took a nap. He had been tired from fishing and talking to Timmy. When he awoke, he came out and asked her mother if she knew that Farmer Ray had a son named Timmy.

"Yes son. Farmer Ray hasn't always been so mean. When we all graduated, he married the prettiest girl in school. Her name was Marquette, and she was good for him. They had parties over at the farm all the time. They were very happy. She had twins in fact; we were in the hospital together. She had them right before I delivered you,." his mother said.

Ricky interjected, "If he's married, and has two sons, where have they been?"

His mother continued sadly, "Marquette, as beautiful as she was, wasn't ready for a family so when she had two boys at the same time, she was getting ready to leave Ray. He wouldn't let them go; in those days, you didn't just up and walk away. One day he took her with him to round up the horses. He used to have wild horses on that land. He would go to far away places and bring them back. Well, there was a stampede and both the kids were killed when she couldn't get them out of the way fast enough. She is now in an institution, very far from here. No one is allowed in to see her."

She let Ricky get his mind around what she was telling him but wasn't sure why he was so surprised.

"Farmer Ray wasn't always a mean man, like he is now. However, when the kids died and his wife was sent away, he kept telling people that he saw the children. The town's people started berating him for speaking to the dead. They just wouldn't give it up, and so he kept to himself, only coming into town to buy supplies and dared anyone to come onto the property. He was excommunicated from the church," his mother was finished talking about it but Ricky didn't let it go.

"Mom, I was fishing this week with a boy who said he's the farmer's son, his name is Timmy," Ricky said wide-eyed.

"Ricky, it had to be some other Timmy, I was at the funeral, both boys died."

Ricky told his friends, who told their parents, and they all gossiped about it, but no one was ready to believe.

He spent the summer with Timmy, but never found out where his twin brother was. He and farmer Ray became friends over time, and the town's people began to try to be friendly with the farmer too.

Little by little, people began to believe Ricky, and they would come to the pond and visit with their family who had passed over. It was a well-kept town secret, still is in fact. When someone passes through a small town in the south, and no one seems friendly, there is a reason for that. There are secrets to keep inside, and this was such a town.

End

Chris Bartholomew writes full time from her home in Jasper, Georgia. Her stories can be found at Ragged Edge Publishing, the ezine, Writer's Nook and Reader's Corner, Bewildering Tales, Astounding Tales, Anotherealm, a new print magazine Theatre of Decay will feature two of her stories, The Knob, and The Owl of DarkWood in issues #1 and #3. She has four works in the Ragged Edge Anthology entitled, Vault IX - Alpha Anthology, as well as a column at Ragged Edge Publishing entitled; The Fountain Pen. She won second place in Writer's Nook and Reader's Corners picture contest.

Upcoming This Week

Things are really becoming busy for me, both here at The News and elsewhere in both writing and non-writing projects! All summer the activities seems to have been increasing until now I am running at full roar and life is interesting to say the least.

This week on The News you will be seeing --

Tuesday - Fantasy Revealed

Wednesday - we have a new piece of fiction to offer by a writer (I hope) who will continue to support The News with submissions. I believe you will enjoy what is in store for Wednesday this week!

Thursday - Fantasy Revealed

Friday - a review of the movie Dukkes of Hazzard

Saturday - a grab bag, who knows what will appear!

Schwartz on Fear

To fight fear, act. To increase fear—wait, put off, postpone.

David J. Schwartz

An Interesting Thought Hit Me

"Christianity does not explain suffering; it shows us what to do with it." -- Baron Von Hugel

Recently I've been struggling. You name it I have been having problems with it. Today, upon waking, I felt the old horrible familiar oppression hit me and I was at a loss as to what to do with it, or for it. As usual, I began writing in my journal (the paper one), and pouring out all of my fears, the sorrow, the over-whelming feelings, and sought to try and figure out how to get my head, life, heart, spirit, you name it, back into some semblance of an order.

In the midst of the writing I realized I had said I was a Christian. The old Protestant training blared out in bold screaming words, "But if you were being a good Christian you wouldn't be having these problems!" That's when I stopped writing in my journal and actually started thinking about this.

IF I was a good Christian, was there really supposed to be no bad days, no pains and problems? I have rheumatoid arthritis. I hurt every day. Some Protestants have said I wasn't a good Christian or I would be healed. My husband and I are struggling to make ends meet, and there isn't a more devoted and devout man than my B, so why are we having problems with money? Is it me? And finally, I looked inside at my own turmoil and wondered what I had done to make all of this come about. What had I done to make me not be the "good Christian" I always wanted to be; was this what was causing me such mental and emotional anguish?

Then I thought about all of the people I know who are struggling to make it in their careers, their dreams, and in their personal lives and inside themselves. They ARE Christians in my eyes, so what was going on with them?

Yeah, I know, sometimes I'm quite blond, but I don't believe I'm dumb.

I picked up my Bible and began reading it. All through it there was turmoil, hardship, even some depression the prophets and apostles went through, even Christ Himself. If Christ, being fully human and fully God, went through these times, what made me so damn special? I wasn't. I'm not.

In seeing I am really not all that different from other people, from the Saints themselves, I can honestly say I looked at myself in a different light and all of the other problems I've been going through settled themselves. The deep dark abyss that seemed to threaten me with every ounce of malice it could muster receded a little. Oh, it's there, it's waiting and it will try and wash over me again, but, for now, I am doing better. I can make it through today, and if all goes well I will make it through tomorrow, but before tackling tomorrow, I'm going to do exactly what I did today: I am going to write about it, fix all of the negatives and positives, the tasks and the dreams, and I am going to turn to the Bible and to my prayer book, because I'm not going to make it without them through this tempestuous sea of life any more.

Yes, the medication I had helped beyond measure to keep back the dark abyss, but we can't afford it any more. Thank goodness God is free monetarily wise, it just means I have to practice what I think now, and I am trusting I will do that (even though I may stumble through the days at points).

Why write about this here? Why not? Isn't it good when you run across someone that honestly says, "Hey, I'm going through some tough shit, but I think maybe I've figured out something?" Sometimes it is good to know other people go through this stuff, too, and sometimes it is good to read about it.

No, I'm not preaching, Heaven forbid! I think maybe, just maybe, I have hit upon something that will help me out of the void into the place I was before. I can also hear Marx saying, "Religion is the opiate of the people." My answer? If people don't have something bigger than themselves to turn to, true happiness can't be found, or striven for. There are far too many problems we have to face as is, why try and take away something that is inherent in the human make up: belief. We have believed in something our entire history. We have been reaching out for something more, trying to reconnect with something we lost throughout history. You cannot stop people from believing. You cannot stop people, humanity from looking for something bigger than them to help them through their lives. It has always been, and it will always be, until we meet God face to face with fear and trembling. Personally, I'd like a few more good works and happinesses down here first before meeting Him. I would like to say I have survived life with my faith, my belief in tact, than to wonder on my death bed if I missed something vital. Who knows, maybe that will happen any way, but maybe, just maybe it won't. And maybe, just maybe, I can make it through today without having a semi-nervous-breakdown.