No Kissing Required Chapter Two

 Chapter Two

“These in white robes - who are they, and where did they come from?”
Revelation 7:13

 
Phoenix, Arizona

    Thanks for deciding to join me. I’ll fill you in and then you can keep up with me the rest of the way. I’m sitting near the back of a Greyhound bus, I boarded some seven hours or so ago. Mikey and I arrived on Earth together; he said he had some business to take care of in Las Vegas.
    He’s most probably following up a sighting of Satan. But from what I can gather, these sightings are as regular as people saying they saw a dead rock ‘n’ roll star working behind the counter of a burger joint. Scary.
    Everything for my mission has been taken care of. I’ve got clothes, money in my pocket, and even a tablet with an app especially installed for heavenly beings. This app allows Heaven to contact me 24/7 and they can feed me useful information about my assignment, amongst other things.
    I also have a small gold stud in my right ear, but it’s no normal piece of jewelry, it’s a demon early warning device. But it’s a prototype, so they’re still uncertain on its reliability. That’s the boooring stuff out of the way, let’s talk about the exciting stuff, like me.
    My human form is that of a seventeen-year-old male. I’m not too shy to say that I’m a gooorgeous guy. Amigas, you’ll love me. You’ll love my buzz cut, my piercing blue eyes, and of course my toned pecks and abs. I’m not quite as tall as I would have liked, but hey, none of us are perfect. Oh, I forgot to say, I’m a little tiger; grrr. Amigos,don’t worry, you’ll like me a lot too. Why? Because I’m a real cool dude to hang around with, that’s why. Need I say more?
    I’m feeling pretty exhausted, I’ve got roughly an hour to go before I reach my destination and meet my guardian, she’s called Sylvia Angell. I’ll be living with her for now. The cover story is that she’s my Aunt and I’m living with her because my parents are working overseas.
With me? Good. I’ve got a little homework to do, you can read along with me, but not aloud, because I need to concentrate. Information is downloaded in story form on to my tablet, kind of like an e-book, and you’ll be able to read what’s available to me. No pictures though, so I hope you can read. Duh, that was a stupid thing for me to say, of course you can!
    Hopefully no little gremlins, or devils as the case may be, manage to hack into my system and tamper with my data. The IT department is working on security software as we speak. Unfortunately for heaven, they have no software available here as yet to secure their system.
    Oh and another thing, if you see quotes from the bible dotted here and there, well these are little messages sent to me by the Elders. They have a couple of purposes, some are for my spiritual guidance, you know; so I remember that I’m on God’s side and he’s on mine. The others give me an indication, or as I like to call it; step for a hint, as to what my day ahead may be all about.
    The step for hint stuff is based on information gathered from Earth. I suppose it’s what government agencies would call their intelligence. Now I have no idea if this intelligence is gathered from intelligencers, a bug in Satan’s chambers, or geek angels analyzing incoming data.
    All I know is that I have to take some direction from these messages and act upon them where appropriate. With me so far? Good. Right, eyes down, get reading.

Paul’s Story

    “Now Paul, you take care walking home. Don’t detour, and use your cell phone to call your pop at the first sign of trouble.” The small, gray haired woman is full of concern and apprehension as she addresses her grandson.
    “Gran, stop fussing. I’m a big boy now.” The six foot, one hundred and seventy pound seventeen-year-old tries to make light of her anxiety.
    “I know you are, but it’s not like it was when I was a teenager. You could safely walk for miles and not a soul would bother you.”
    “Gran, nothing’s like it was when you were a teenager. You’re prehistoric.”
    The old woman slaps the young man playfully across the back of the hand. Then throwing her arms around him, she hugs him with all her might.
    “Goodbye, I’ll call you later,” says the teenager and he kisses his Gran on her cheek.
    “Goodbye, I love you Paul.”
    “I love you too Gran.” The young man leaves his grandmother standing on the top step of her front porch.
He stops before finally stepping onto the side-walk. He turns around, blows her a kiss, and then goes on his way. She blows one back and she continues to wave until he is out of sight.
It isn’t just Paul Mitchum’s grandmother who’s apprehensive about her grandson’s walk home, Paul has his own doubts. But his father made it clear in their last man-to-man talk that he expected his son to fight his own battles. He told him that “he needed to start acting like a man.”
    When his father, George, went off on one, as he regularly did since Paul’s mom had gone, there was no reasoning with him. There were regular heated exchanges of words between father and son, caused by George drinking copious amounts of liquor.
    On these occasions, Paul is left with no alternative but to lock himself away in his bedroom. Only coming out when he hears his pop snore, after him falling into a deep alcohol fueled sleep. Paul’s only confidante is his Gran, but he doesn’t like to tell her about his rows with his pop. After all it seemed disrespectful, speaking to her about her own son.

Phoenix, Bus Depot

    My bus draws into the depot, and I’m feeling slightly nervous about the challenges that lie ahead. There is only one man waiting, as the bus finally draws to a halt.
    I know this has to be Aunt Sylvia’s neighbor Isais. I stand up and tug at my backpack; it drops heavily from the overhead parcel shelf onto my seat.
    Making my way down to the front exit, I notice the deep-set eyes of the waiting man scour the length of the bus, presumably in search of me. He hasn’t caught sight of me yet. I start to descend the steps of the bus, and now he’s looking straight at me.
    “Are you Sylvie’s ward, Daniel?” His Native American face lights up, he sure is a good-looking man for an oldie. I mean to say he’s over forty years old.
    “I am, but call me Dan. You must be Isais Bia?”
    “I surely am boy and you can call me Isais.” He chuckles at what he thinks is a witty reply and continues,  “Sylvie will be so glad you’ve arrived safely. She’s been baking pies all day. She’s even tackled a new ‘un, mango and banana. Hell knows what that’ll taste like.” He slaps me on the back heartily. Putting his large arm around my shoulders, he pulls me towards him and hugs me. My internal organs feel as though they have just been squished like an accordion.
    According to my app, he’s six feet five inches and two hundred and seventy pounds. His large frame dwarfs all of my five feet seven inches, one hundred and thirty seven pounds. I can’t help but like this guy, I hope we’re going to be very good friends.
    “Isais, I don’t care what the pie tastes like, I’m starved.”
    “Boy, you sure could do with some of Sylvie’s pies inside you. Fatten you up a bit. Give me your backpack; it looks as though the weight of it is going to snap you in two.” His arm remains tight around my shoulders and I gladly hand over my bag.
    His firm grip assures me that I’m in safe hands. As he guides me through the large bus depot, my feet only make contact with the ground on every second or third step I take. I must look like a puppet or cartoon character.
    Finally we’re out into the warm July night, the parking bays across from the depot are all taken. I couldn’t even take a guess at what this guy’s going to drive. Whatever it is, it’s going to have to be big.
    “That’s my truck over there.” Isais releases his grip on me. His big long legs take such wide strides that I have no alternative but to start running. We cross the street to an old battered Nissan, Isais puts a key into the driver’s door, and the central locking clicks. “Climb in boy, I’ll throw your bag in the back.” Isais opens the rear passenger door and I hear my bag thump onto the seat.
    I climb up into the front passenger side and look around. Brightly colored throws cover the leather seats of the truck and a small leather bound dream catcher hangs from the rear-view mirror. Its blue colored beads catch the street light and its feathers move with a wisp from the warm breeze that’s coming in through the now open driver’s door. There’s a picture of a kid around my age fixed to the dashboard. I wonder if Isais has a son. I wasn’t told about one, but then again maybe it’s for me to find out.
    Isais climbs in, the truck groans gently under his weighty movement, then he starts the engine and we move out into the flow of traffic and head North.
    “How long will it take us to reach Aunt Sylvia’s, Isais?”
    “Twenty minutes ride to Wingate, boy,” says Isais cheerfully.
    “How long have you been a neighbor of Aunt Sylvia’s, or Sylvie as you call her?”
    “Sylvie is my pet name for her. How long? Eh, I’m not sure exactly how long, because it seems as though I’ve known her forever.” Isais scratches his head, as if in a hope that he’s going to come up with the answer to my question. But I think that’s one question he isn’t going to be able to answer.
    Isais and I continued to chat non-stop, like long lost friends, for the journey. The kid in the picture is his son. But it seems I won’t have the pleasure of meeting him. The kid’s the D word, same as me. I felt like such an idiot when I asked about him, but hey ho, I had to ask. We finally turned into a small street located in what I am reliably informed is the older side of town. The wide streets are lined with small single story homes; cacti and palms fill the gardens.
    The truck stops in front of number six, North Orange, Wingate, Scottsdale. The porch lights are on and a woman I can only assume is my new aunt sits on a rocking chair. As I jump out of the truck, she smiles and outstretches her arms. I think I’m going to like her.

No Kissing Required Prologue

No Kissing Required Chapter 1

DOS BESOS

 

    Kissing here in the Canary Islands is part of everyday social interaction. In Spanish culture, kissing friends and even comparative strangers is a normal action when greeting, or saying goodbye to people.
  I don’t mean a great big smacker on the lips or cheek, but an air kiss when two people's cheeks touch, first the right then the left.
  In my homeland of Scotland, kissing was reserved for family, close friends and of course an act of intimacy.
  International Kissing Day ⁄ World Kiss Day, is being celebrated throughout the world today, July 6 2023. So come on, find a quiet corner, purse those gorgeous lips of yours and give someone a special kiss today.
  If that doesn't take your fancy, why not go to Amazon and buy my ebook? I guarantee, No Kissing Required.  https://www.amazon.com/No-Kissing-Required-Salvation-Book-ebook/dp/B08GD315P1

 

Thank You

 

    It doesn't  matter where we live in the world, what language we speak, the words thank you are, or should be, a common expression in our every day lives. The definition in the Collins Dictionary being, expressing one's gratitude or thanks.

    Sometimes, however it doesn't matter how much we appreciate the actions and words of individuals, or the everyday services we receive, we don't use the phrase to show our appreciation. 

    July 2, in the UK is, National Thank You Day, this year it is being dedicated to all the unacknowledged carers and volunteers in the UK. The anthem is, Thank You For Being a Friend, written by Andrew Gold. This cover is being sung by Tony Christie, Sting and others, in partnership with, Music for Dementia. 

    Organized sing–a–longs and events are taking place throughout the UK to  help connect communities. By thanking the unsung heroes that live amongst each and everyone of our neighborhoods helps strengthen the community spirit and can help us meet up with the people that we would otherwise walk on by. Well done to all involved.

    Wherever you are today, whatever you're doing have a great one and THANK YOU for taking the time to drop by and read my ⌗Blog.

⌗ThankYou

 

   

   

A Life of Fiestas and Tapas

 

      Since restrictions due to the covid epidemic were lifted here in the Canary Islands, normal service of our local tradition of fiestas has now resumed.

   
    Someone once said to me, "There's always a reason to party here in the Canaries, we have many to commemorate, firstly we have Our lady, followed by the saints, farmers and fishermen." This explanation I can now confirm is accurate and true.

    Fiestas are a time for friends, neighbours and family to gather together eat food, drink local wine and dance the night away.

      For example last weekend was the, Fiesta de San Juan.  The celebrations started on St John's Eve, June 23, with many places burning bonfires on the coast, honoring the arrival of the summer sun and protection against the wandering evil spirits.

     On the 24th, El Baño de Las Cabras takes place in, Puerto de la Cruz. Shepherds bring their goats and horses to the harbour of the city, to bathe them in the Atlantic Ocean. This annual event is both a purification and fertility ritual, and while slightly bizarre to many, it is definitely a crowd pleaser.

     I just love these islands, the people and the traditions. I've included some pictures of the fantastic cuisine you can find here and of course I couldn't forget about the goats.

    Have a great day. 

   

 ⌗Tenerife ⌗Food ⌗Tapas ⌗wine ⌗Fiestas    

Hyperlink to Lost Souls Chapter 3 (Book Extract)

Day Three: Clued up?

   Si, Beth, and I are on the outskirts of town. The landscape is flat and very, very snowy. We’re zipping about all over the place on our snowmobiles. I’m having the time of my life; of my angelet’s life anyway.

    My new amigos are up ahead; they’re taking me to a spot where we can do some fishing. I need to tell you about Beth, she is sooo beautiful with her black, bobbed, chin-length hair and those ebony eyes. She looks so sad sometimes, I just want to hug her and k… Here I go again.

    Now, Si is a good-looking dude too. He’s not dissimilar to Beth, except he’s a dude and eh, his hair isn’t bobbed, and eh… Listen, he’s a handsome dude. I feel as though I’m digging myself into a deep hole, trying to describe the guy. Goodness, use your imagination. We must have reached the place because they’ve stopped.
    “Is this the place you were telling me about?” I pull up behind them.
    “Yes, this is it. First one to catch a fish doesn’t have to clean or cook. ” says Si.
    “Okay with me. But I’m a bit feckless when it comes to cooking or fishing come to think of it,” I say.
    “We’ll see how feckless you are because I’m the best fisherman around,” boasts Si.
    “Whoa, boy, nothing like blowing your own trumpet,” I say. I slap him hard across the back. He knocks me over onto the ground and we start play wrestling. There’s only going to be one loser in this mock fight—Aagh!— not me. Beth has just smeared a big piece of icy snow allover my face. It’s a pity it wasn’t her I was wrestling with in the snow. Aaagh! 

    Beth kindled the fire, while, yes, I gutted the fish. Si has done nothing but brag about the size of his catch. Both of these kids are accustomed to the outdoor life and are now enjoying the heat from the fire, which was soon blazing. Their catch is in a large frying pan, blackened by the soot from the fire. Notice I said their catch; that’s because I caught nada.

    “Are you enjoying yourself, Dan?” asks Si.
    “Yes, I am very much and you look as though you are too. I must say you both seem a lot happier than you were when we first set off this morning,” I say.
    I’m putting the burnt offerings out onto the three tin plates and I can now settle down by the fire on one of the little collapsible stools Beth packed.
    “We hate when the so-called grown-ups argue,” says Beth.
    “She says so-called because they weren’t acting like grown-ups at all. We hate when dad and Charlie are at each other’s throats,” Si sighs. Beth nods in agreement
with her brother.
    “That’s understandable. Do they argue often?” I ask. I’m tucking in, so excuse my speaking with my mouth full.
    “Well, since…” Si hesitates. “Hey, I’ve said enough already.” He looks down at his plate and he starts to fiddle with a piece of herring.
    “Since what?” I ask.
    “Please don’t tell dad I’ve told you this. They were arguing about Ruth,” says Beth. “Who is Ruth?” I ask.
    “Our sister,” blurts out Si.
    “Oh, where is she then?” If I sound surprised, it’s because I am. This is the first I’ve heard about an additional member of the family.
    “We don’t know,” says Beth.

    Pick me up, I’ve just fallen over. Don’t worry, I haven’t actually fallen over. My goodness, you take everything so literally, don’t you? You haven’t changed one bit. Listen, I’ve no time to explain every little thing to you. I’m just getting to the juicy bit.
    “When did she go missing?” I ask.
    “Six months ago,” says Si. His eyes are filled with tears and he’s scratching his fork across his plate.
    “What happened to her?” I ask.

    Beth looks at her brother and says, “Actually, we’re not sure. You see, Ruth has always been rather rebellious. She seemed to hate everything about her life. Although we’re triplets, sometimes she was like a stranger to us. She was never interested in school; she never handed
in her homework assignments on time. Sometimes she didn’t even hand them in and her grades were poor.
    “On numerous occasions her behavior was so bizarre that we thought she may be taking drugs. Then there were the times that she came home under the influence of alcohol. Falling about, swearing, totally and utterly bizarre. Our parents were losing patience with her and
for that reason, we think she decided to run away from home.”

    “So, your mum, dad, your grandfather, and the police all believe she ran away?” I ask.
    “We searched high and low for her. We can’t find her anywhere. We’ve given up hope of ever finding her,” says Si.
    “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. But why were they arguing about her?” I ask inquisitively.
    “Charlie keeps saying Ruth is dead and her soul has
been stolen. Her soul is being held captive on the Island of Lost Souls. He says if we don’t get it back soon, she is destined for the afterlife,” says Si.
    “I take Stan doesn’t believe him?” Cough, cough, cough. I’m choking on my herring and tears are running down my face. Si’s about to pay me back for slapping him hard earlier. Whack! Whack! That’s the noise of my shoulder blades exiting my body via my chest.
    “Of course not. Stan started calling him an old fool and that’s when you came in,” says Beth.
    “It is a bit farfetched,” I croak my words.
    “Is it?” says Si. He’s staring at me. “Yeah, you’re right, it is a little farfetched. Dad said Charlie’s imagination is playing tricks on him.” He shakes his head, then pushes a piece of bread and fish into his mouth. 

    Beth stays silent, thank goodness. I felt as though my head was on a swivel when they were speaking. You ask one a question and the other one answers; it must be because they shared their mom’s womb. At least I have a clearer picture of what’s going on here. I knew at some
point soon I would get an inkling as to why I was here in Tuk. Looks like I just got my first clue.

Hyperlink Chapter 1 Extract1

Hyperlink Chapter 1 Extract 2 

Hyperlink Chapter 2 Extract 1 

Hyperlink Chapter 2 Extract 2 

Here Comes the Sun

 

    April 1963, three young men from Liverpool, UK packed their suitcases and headed for Puerto de la Cruz, Tenerife, the Canary Islands. They had been recording their first album in the EMI studios, in Abbey Road, London and now needed a break.

    These, lads were called Paul, George and Ringo. The fourth member of the pop group, John had decided to go it alone and holiday elsewhere in Spain. Whether, you were born in 1963 or not, I'm sure you will recognize the name of the band, The Beatles.

    If you read my blog, or follow me on Instagram you will know that I’m a regular visitor to this beautiful city and when I was back there in May I couldn’t help but think about them walking the same streets and taking in the same beauty as I was.

    I’ve included a few photographs of some of the same places that I know they visited. Although sixty years on, the place has probably changed a little! 

    It’s the first time I can say  that I’ve followed in the Beatles footsteps. If you want to see any more of my photographs, catch me on Instagram @christinarowellauthor.

  Hoping you’re having a great week guys and we’ll catch up soon.

No Kissing Required CHAPTER ONE

 

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.

 https://www.amazon.com/No-Kissing-Required-Salvation-Book-ebook/dp/B08GD315P1