Sunday, 21 February 2016
Salvation No Kissing Required Excerpt 2
Limbo
My name’s Dan Pierce; whether or not that’s my birth
name, I don’t really know. You’re asking; why don’t I
know my identity? Good question. But there’s also a good
answer; I’m Dea…d, and my earthbound memories have
been totally wiped out. I’m finding the D word kind of
hard to say, so excuse me. That revelation shocked you,
didn’t it? Well it came as quite a blow to me. In fact, it’s
a bit of a bummer, when you wake up and realize you’re
now a spiritual being.
I’ve discovered that entry into heaven is no mean feat.
It’s like starting a new college, or university, the powers
that be want to make sure that you’re qualified for the
tasks ahead. When you reach the pearly gates they don’t
say, “Hey you’re dead, come on in.”
Firstly, your name’s got to be checked against God’s
database. It used to be called the Book of Life; well it still
is, but it’s no longer etched on tablets of stone, or written
on papyrus. No way, Heaven has invested in a high
tech computer system and the gatekeeper accesses the
information via an android tablet. I couldn’t believe it;
the miracles of modern science will never cease to amaze.
Back to the Book of Life, it’s literally a journal of your
existence. You know, birth name, where you were born,
achievements, disappointments, the good and the bad
things you did; of course, it helps if you’ve led a blemish
free life and I don’t mean a life without zits. Finally, it
states where, when, and how you died. Now this data
allows God and his trusted elders to judge as to whether
you’re celestial material.
When I arrived several days ago, or was it several
years ago? Time isn’t measured the same way here. Sorry
I’m rambling, put it down to shock. I don’t even know if
it’s relevant as to when I arrived, what is relevant to me
is the fact that I didn’t actually know my name, never
mind how I died. But seemingly, this isn’t so uncommon.
However, there was a complication in my case and
that was the gatekeeper didn’t know my details either
and he certainly wasn’t expecting me. He had no note of
my arrival, nada. To cut a long story short, I didn’t get
in. I was named Daniel Pierce, for the sake of the records
and whisked away to Limbo, tout de suite.
That’s when I got the devastating news; take a deep
breath because this is a shocker. I was told that if they
couldn’t establish who I was, or why I was there, I’d be
thrown into the Lake of Fire for a second death. Well
knock me down with a feather, if it wasn’t bad enough
that I’d died already, I was to die again. No right to
appeal, no chance of a reprieve.
Well that was until Mikey, sorry, I mean Archangel
Michael, arrived in Limbo yesterday, to speak to me and
a bunch of undesirables. He explained that there was a
chance of salvation, all was not lost, we could prove that
we were worth saving.
He proposed that we enlist in God’s army to help
defeat the Red Rider, aka Satan and his foot soldiers who
are attempting to flex their muscles on Earth. It seems
that Satan has escaped from the burning sulfur lake and
he is determined to seek revenge on God for the years
he has lived in torment. He is proving to be elusive, his
army is growing stronger every day, and Heaven needs
all the help it can get.
Duh, now who would say no to this opportunity of
redemption? Surprisingly enough, some of my fellow
suspected hoods did decline. They didn’t fancy doing
good deeds, obeying God’s word, or Devil slaying. But I
said, “Bring it on.”
Sooo, that’s where I’m at in my celestial career. By the
way, I’m now an angelet, which is another name for a
probationary angel. How long will my internship last?
Well how long is a piece of string?
Guys, I’m about to embark on an important journey
and I could do with good friends like you around. What
I’m saying is, I’d like you to tag along. I’ll need someone
to sound off to. How about it? I believe I’ll be boarding a
bus in Las Vegas tomorrow, headed for Phoenix. I hope
to see you then.
Thursday, 18 February 2016
Salvation No Kissing Required Excerpt 1
Arizona, six months earlier
What’s happening? How did this all spiral out of control?
The sixteen-year-old boy is confused. With the promises
of no rules to obey, eternal life, and sex anytime he
wants, with anyone he so desires; yeah, who wouldn’t
be tempted? Besides, no money need change hands.
However, payment was expected; of course, there was
a charge for Utopia. Deep down, he had known it was all
too good to be true. The price was non-negotiable, no
haggling, no cutting a better deal was possible. What he
had been asked for in exchange was priceless, and he just
wasn’t prepared for it. No, selling his soul to the Devil
wasn’t something he would ever be prepared for and
something he wasn’t going to do.
Therefore, he was now fleeing for his life, he needed
to get away from Wingate and fast. Luckily, for him, the
road was quiet. He had been driving for about an hour,
he had only seen one other vehicle in that time and it was
following close behind. It had joined the road about three
miles back; the driver had not attempted to overtake
and was unlikely to do so now, due to the byroad’s
narrowness. At first he had thought it was a police car
following. Somehow, they may have been alerted that he
had stolen his father’s car, but eventually he had decided
it was unlikely his father would notice it was gone before
morning.
The tailgating car suddenly closes the distance
between them and it’s headlights illuminate the rear-view
mirror of the boy’s vehicle; blinding him on every
turn and twist of the winding road. He presses his foot
down, hard onto the gas pedal, but the car’s response is
sluggish. The young driver is certain that the engine is
protesting at being pushed so hard.
The two cars reach the summit of the climbing road
and the fearful teenager knows that the ground drops
steeply down away from the side. He can’t see the bottom
of the ravine, it’s as though it’s lurking in the bowels of
the earth.
“What the?” the teenage boy yells with surprise,
as the pursuing car gently nudges the rear bumper of
his. He moves forward slightly in his seat, but his seat
belt clicks and saves him from being hurt in any way.
His foot is flat to the floor, but his vehicle continues to
struggle to pull away from its pursuer. The boy grips the
steering wheel as though he’s on a white-knuckle ride at
the fairground. The road widens around the last bend
and will start to drop downhill, towards Highway 87. He
hopes the maniac following him will pass then.
Both cars are now traveling at high speed and the
awkward curves of the road are hard to negotiate. The
inexperienced driver is finding the steering heavy and
he knows he is being pulled closer and closer to the edge
of the precipice. He’s finally approaching the last bend;
he glances in his rear-view, but what he sees causes
him to lose his concentration. Just for a moment, but a
moment too long. The car leaves the road on the bend
and the darkness swallows the teenager up like a whale
consuming a minnow.
The tailing car doesn’t stop; it drives on, no looking
back.
Saturday, 13 February 2016
Today and Forever
Filling me with
excitement and delight
Your lips upon mine
send tingling through my body
Like nothing I have
ever felt before
The love you and I
express, I know is real
A love that we can
share today and forever
Thursday, 11 February 2016
With a Sprinkling of Fairy Dust
Magical Areas will be created |
River Nith, Dumfries |
But, his time in Scotland was never forgotten, it was the gardens of Moat Brae House, in Dumfries, where he played as a child that inspired his creation of the character Peter Pan and his land of make-believe, Neverland.
Finally, the derelict building and grounds are being restored in honour of J. M. after receiving £5.3 million pounds of funding and once again they will bring joy to children.
When completed it will house a children's literature centre and play areas. Now, they too can have their lives enhanced by story-telling and of course I'm sure there will be a sprinkling of fairy dust for all.
Neverland, will include gardens |
Monday, 8 February 2016
Common Sense At Last
Libraries in the UK are being chopped and squeezed with every austerity measure the Government inflicts upon the population. Something they have been doing over the last few years and yes, I have written posts on this subject before and I make no apologies for mentioning it again.
But, elsewhere in the world there are Governments who recognise that libraries and the reading of books is important, if we want to educate children and adults alike.
One such country is Spain, and like the rest of the world they don't have lots of money to go around, however they know that accessibility to literature is key to the future of their country.
So, thanks to promotion by the Spanish Ministry for Education, Culture and Sport, the library in Adeje, South Tenerife, Canary Islands, has seen increased numbers of students using its facilities including the usage of study rooms and Wi-Fi connections also rising sharply.
Thank goodness, there is some common sense being used by Government and of course that means, those year round sun worshippers can also take a book to the beach.
Friday, 5 February 2016
The Chinese whispers of Greyfriars Bobby
Greyfriars Bobby, Edinburgh |
Like any story that is passed down through the ages initially by word of mouth and then Atkinson's book in 1912, the story varies. His master, John Gray, in one version was said to be a local, Edinburgh policeman, or bobby an informal name used for the police in the UK and in another he was, John Gray a shepherd.
Greyfriars Bobby Bar, Candlemaker Row, Edinburgh. |
In Edinburgh's, Candlemaker Row a statue was erected in 1873 opposite, Greyfriars Kirkyard where his master was buried in 1858 and then Bobby, fourteen-years later. True, or myth I don't really care. I believe it's a story that will last forever and of course this little Skye Terrier can watch over his master for eternity too.
Sunday, 31 January 2016
Please, Please, Mr.Postman
Postbox in Dunblane, Scotland. |
They've been around since the 19th century in all the villages and towns throughtout the UK; some are built into walls and some are free-standing. No matter what shape, or size they come in, they're part of the British culture. What am I talking about? Postboxes.
However, due to the decline in the art of letter writing, an old favourite of mine, this rare breeed is in danger of becoming extinct, which is kind of sad.
The Post Office says that it isn't thinking of scrapping them just yet, but I've got a sneaky feeling that they'll soon be as rare as an dodo or a pterodactyl.
Please, Please, Mr. Postman keep taking my letters for me.
P.S. Gold postbox to commemorate Andy Murray's Olympic win.
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