"Well... did It work?"

The young man heard his voice close to him

He turned and saw the old man sitting next to him, drinking a cold glass of water

Young man was confused

" scuse me mister? "

Old man took a sip of his drink

" I said... did It work? "

" did what work? "

" that plan of yours."

Young man became defensive, not as defensive to pick up his revolver; but defensive enough to fix his posture for quick aim

" what are you talking about old man?! "

" You becoming lonewolf and all... leaving everyone you cared about. "

Young man was shocked

" h...how do you know this? "

Old man finished his drink and ordered another glass of water

" you feel closer to yourself now? "

" I... I don't know. Im not there yet. "

Old man smiled

" but you do miss It don't you? "

" miss what? "

" people caring about you. People knowing you."

Young man accepted that old man knew things about his life and so became more relaxed

" I never wanted to be in the center of attention. But for a long time my actions made me become that type of man. I was the villain in other people's eyes, be it friends or other folks... even family members... I thought things would become more clear If I take this road but... not yet. "

Old man left his drink half empty and got up.

He looked at the young man

" don't punish yourself oliver. What you seek doesn't come from others. It comes from your heart. Make peace with yourself first and then... you'll be at peace with others. "

Old man walked to the exit

" Im here whenever you wanna talk young feller. I haven't forgotten you. "

Oliver looked at old man speechless

He turned around and saw the bartender cleaning the table

"Do you know who that was partner? "

" Who? "

" the old man who just left."

Bartender looked at him confusingly

" there was no one in the bar except you mister."

Once upon Ye Olde English heath, as the door to her cottage swung open, Hildegard smelled burning. Her husband’s boot had crossed the threshold, he would expect dinner, and he would not want it to be burned.

Hildegard rushed to the hearth. She grabbed the dangling pot of stew and instantly, agonizingly, the metal seared her palms.

“Zounds!” she cried.

“Woman!” her husband remonstrated.

“Zounds, it hurts!”

“Hold thy foul tongue!” her husband roared. “Thou wilt not blaspheme in my house!” (For zounds, dear reader, derived from God’s wounds, a reference to the crucifixion of Christ, and to employ the torture of one’s Lord and Savior as an epithet was as shocking to a pious old Englishman as the lyrics of NWA would prove to his descendants' erstwhile colonists 400 years after.)

“But it hurts!” Hildegard cried. “Thy stew burneth, and the metal hath proved too hot for my tender hands!”

“Stow thy pitiful excuses!” her husband retorted. “Find thyself a godlier path, or never again look me in the face!”

Hildegard departed. She wept even after she treated her second degree burns at the home of a crone who practiced homeopathic medicine, for Hildegard loved her husband, for some reason, or at least loved having a roof over her head to escape the goddamned English rain. To keep her husband roof husband, she needed aid, so Hildegard set out to a person who could set her on a godly path.

“Woman, why dost thou weep?” the Archbishop of Canterbury asked.

“Forgive me bishop,” Hildegard answered. “I hath displeased my husband.”

“How?”

“With an ill word.”

“What ill word did thee speakest?”

Hildegard hesitated. “I said, Zounds, your bishopness.”

“Jesus,” said the Archbishop of Canterbury, “that’s fucking awful word. Why wouldst thou say such a thing?”

“I burned my hands, your bishopness. On a pot. Heaven help me, if I don’t find a safer way to hold a pot, I might blaspheme again, and my husband will disown me. Is there any hope for such a disgraced wench as me?”

“Let us pray.”

And Hildegard and the Archbishop knelt and prayed, and, i dunno, burned frankincense or something, and lo, the Holy Ghost sent them down a dove, which carried in its beak a thickly woven fabric, and they gave thanks to the Lord.

“Almighty God,” asked the Archbishop of Canterbury, “what wouldst You, in Your Infinite Wisdom, have us call this thickly woven fabric with which to hold pots?”

The candles flared, the stones of the cathedral shook, the Archbishop wet himself, and a voice from the heavens boomed, “A potholder.”

And so Hildegard carried the potholder home, and gave knowledge of it unto other women, and prepared many delicious stews without burning her hands, which meant she never again said the unforgiveable zounds, which meant her husband loved her, five times a week whether she were in the mood or not, and she bore many children and had a roof over her head to protect her from the goddamned English rain, and they all lived happilyish ever after until the plague destroyed their bodies and minds.

The End.

“Shoot for the moon,” they said. “Even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars.” And so I did. I aimed for the moon, shot higher than I had ever dared, higher than I had ever dreamed.

I didn’t quite make it, but that’s okay. They were right – I landed among the stars. And it was beautiful.

It was darker than I had imagined among those tiny pinpricks of light. From Earth, they always seemed so close together – little communities of stars joined together in their constellation neighborhoods. But once I was out there, I realized how lonely they truly were. Even the closest stars were hundreds of thousands of miles apart.

And now I am among them, a dark spot floating in a dark sea, occasionally passing other shadows, blacker than the inky void that serves as our background. Sometimes when I remember who I once was, I search for something to reach for again, but I think I’ve gone as far as I can go. There’s nothing left to reach for, at least nothing that I can see. I can’t even move backward because there is no backward; there is no direction at all. There is only blackness and shadows and tiny pinpricks of light too far away to reach in one timeline or a hundred.

I long to search for the inspiration and motivation I once had, but it’s hard to see by the light of stars and shadows.

The winter outside is stifled,

The pyre ablaze, our survival.

Since weve no place to go

Reap and sew reap and sew reap and so..

We dont show signs of stoppin

We still mow down rainforests for loggin

An impact we dont yet know

Reap and sew reap and sew reap and so..

When fossil fuels do run dry

How we will hate going out anymore

Cause without any ozone sky

The suns rays will be way too warm!

The planet is slowly dyin'

And as a species we're not trying

To possibly ebb the flow

Reap and sew reap and sew reap and so..

The planet is slowly dyin'

And our dear resources drying'

Now we can't say we didnr knoŵ

Reap and sew ×3

All the local hobo's and their tiny hobo juniors met just after dark near the tracks.

It was story night off the slab and tonight Pissbag and Bobby were tell a tale of the tide.

Everyone had recently come home from a trip to the ocean and all the wonderfully filthy children, liked best the way the water ebbed and chased.

Once everyone's cans of pork and beans had been open and Snotbox's mom gave everyone their shiney silver spoons- Pissbag appeared from behind a sheet hung from two Uncle Jeff's.

'Ladies and Gents tonight we hear one whale of a tale- how the tides got their game.'

Bobby shook a piece of plastic in the air real hard and it made a weird woobly noise everyone enjoyed.

"Now- we already learned about all biggest hobos on the grid- whales."

Bobby held up a poster with the symbol for 'whale crossing' on it. The kids laughed.

"Whales, like all other brothers and sisters fart- but one whale fart is like 700 people farts for 5 minutes. That is power. That is movement. That is pressure from the depths of the ocean that keep on rollin through the water."

Bobby wobbled the plastic again.

"At night, with the help of the gravity of the moon, all those whale farts eventually start to catch up with one another and cause a wake of sorts."

Bobby wobbled.

"At the fart bubbles pop and merge the displaced energy causes the water to churn back and forth on the shores."

Bobby wobbled once more.

"All that sand that has been played on all day needs to be washed you see. Those whales are not just doing as nature bids, their fart waves are helping the ocean clean the beaches."

Bobby held up another large sign this time with the symbols for 'clean living here'.

"In fifty years, by the year 2000 if we don't make sure the future protects all those whales, the beaches will become filled with trash. Wouldn’t that be such a terrible situation?"

Bobby wobbled once more, and all the children agreed.

Tempest, sister of five, was a woman of dreams.

Every night, her eyes would gaze up at the moonlight, and though she was not tantalized by the moon's advances like her sisters were, she would wonder what it was like to live in a land of air, to be of the sky and free to go where no one else could dare.

The moon promised her that he could give her such things, and she wasn't sure. He had tried to goad her, to bring her to him with advances that promised warm breeze nights that he would light. He told her he could help her swim more upright, but she was not swayed.

Still, Tempest would rumble the water surface, pushing back at the windy messengers who came to visit each day. She tired of the moon's advances and so she ventured out from her depths where the shore came and her world became shallow. This was the place of man, a place Land had claimed and called its own, but Land had no soul, no spirit per say and spoke to no one. Still, she sat on his shores and lamented that she could be no freer from her home than a prisoner of the depths, but Land did not answer.

Liking the silence, she returned to him once more, washing over his beaches and asking if he minded. No answer. And so she started to swallow up little caves, filling them with pretty little things, returning Land his people, and sometimes when man was dumb enough, drowning them to tell Land to respect her realm. Still, Land did not respond. Despite his lack of response, she felt free, more free than she ever had, but Moon became jealous, tugging on the waters surface with his pull to bring her back. To ask her to come away with him since he could not have her. Her sisters became angry, bemoaning his advances on her as he gave them less attention and Tempest remained resolute. She would not feed into it.

And so, every night, Tempest rises up to the shores to see if Land will answer her, but feeling at home with being able to be herself, she continues to ignore Moon's requests for marriage. On some nights, his tug is stronger, keeping her busy and away, but on others... she returns and Land sprinkles gifts from beneath his shores of what little trinkets Tempest left behind.

It was the bang that laid out this path.

Lovers more star crossed than

Any love past.

Sir Ur (our earth)

And lady moon

did swoon so!

This took place

In the hollow vacuum of space;

but it is that the gravity of the situation made it so

these two celestial Spheres

love affairs could never be.

So; Sir Ur

filled up with tears.

They swell when she is near.

Close, but

always too far to touch.

So it is so that

our Earth must

(try as it might),

Attempt to catch

the path of her flight.

Hoping against all reason

to bring them together

evermore.

It is as he weeps

That rain pours.

Waves will crash

on distant shores,

all while the

wind speaks the pained shrieks

of the fight.

This is why

every night

The lonely Lady moon comes.

Yet

(try as she might)

she too fails the plight

Never to reach

Her Sir Ur.

Like a siren to

Our world;

Her amorè.

It is

the thrashing tides

Who keep the score,

And their woes whisper in the wind.

"Mother, why does the water rise?"

Summer's Reach was cold. The old seaside home where Daloran spent his childhood days, unaware of his future cares, saw that day a morning of wind.

Daloran did not care; and nor did his mother Kana, who sat above him on a stone bench while he played in the white sands at the edge of the beach.

"What do you mean?" she said, after only a moment's consideration. She had been watching the horizon, uncaring as the wind blew her dark hair this way or that. Her son was making shapes in the sand, little mounds in a circle.

"I mean..." he said, looking up and studying the nearby cliffs with a troubled look. "When we got here the water wasn't so high. Why did it go up?"

"Oh," she said. "Well... do you see the moon at night?"

"Yes," he said, "and sometimes in the day."

"That's right," she nodded. "Well, what my father told me was that the water follows the moon."

"Follows?" he protested. "Then why isn't it up there?"

She breathed in the salt spray, not answering him. After a moment, he came over and took her hand.

"Mother, how does the water follow the moon?"

She smiled and patted the stone bench next to her.

"Well," she said as Daloran sat, "if you like, I'll tell you a story..."

Many years ago, it is said, a hunter went looking for a silver doe. For the land had been dry for a very long time, and it was said that if someone were to find and kill the doe, the skies would open up again and rain would fall, quenching the ground's thirst.

So, many years he searched, through every forest he could find. But to no avail. So he searched across all the plains, then into the mountains... but he couldn't find the silver doe.

But he would not give up. The land was desperate for rain.

At night he watched the skies, looking for an answer, a sign of where to look. "I have travelled long," he began to say each night, "and I search for what no man should be able to find. Yet I will hunt until my last breath. Would that my journey be met with the smallest of aid?"

As his eyes searched, suddenly a star in the north blinked once brighter than all the rest. He stood immediately, shouting his excitement and praise; and, ever one bound by duty, he continued on his way.

He followed the star in the north for many months; through many nights and sleeping very little. Through forests and over plains he journeyed again. And finally, after crossing perhaps the tallest mountain he had ever seen, he stopped when the star brought him to the sea.

There he stood for a long while, the whisper of the waves in his ears. He thought perhaps he was to build a boat and keep going, but something stayed him on the sand. So he waited until nightfall, that perhaps he could again look for direction.

When night came, however, and the great moon was over head, something shining appeared from the waves. She strode from the wake with both grace and majesty, a silver doe, bowing to the hunter as he approached.

"I come to you," she said, and her words sang through his chest, "you who have searched for so long, that now I may return to my home."

So the hunter drew the first arrow of his long hunt, and loosed it upon the silver doe. And as it struck, the doe burst into a cloud of moonlight, lingering there on the shore for only a moment. With a final whisper of farewell, she soared upward through the clouds and into the moon; and at the moment she broke through the sky, rain began to pour down, blessing the dying land; and as the rains came down, the water came up to meet it, crashing together in a joyous thunder.

The hunter fled before the torrent, but he was not fast enough. So great was the land's joy that it drowned its savior. And though at first he thought perhaps it was unfair, he remembered the rain falling on the dry ground and the doe's flight home... and he drifted off with a smile.

Now... each time the moon comes around in the sky, the waves remember... they hear the whisper of the doe's voice... and the sea rises up to be nearer to her...

"That's why the water goes up, Daloran."

In the ancient times of Mirtholia, there dwelled a whimsical sea deity named Tidewoggle. With a twinkle in his eye and a chuckle that echoed across the ocean, Tidewoggle was known for his mischievous nature and love for laughter. He was the guardian of the tides, responsible for their rise and fall, and he took his role quite seriously, albeit with a playful twist.

You see, Tidewoggle had an insatiable fondness for jokes and jests. He would often play pranks on the sea creatures, causing waves to splash unexpectedly or sandcastles to vanish with a mischievous wink. The sea turtles would grumble, the seagulls squawked, and the crabs clicked their claws in mock annoyance.

One day, as Tidewoggle roamed the shores, he encountered a wise old seagull named Gulliver. Gulliver was renowned for his wisdom and always had a thoughtful perspective on the world.

"Ah, Tidewoggle, your laughter brings joy to the sea, but have you ever wondered why you control the tides?" Gulliver asked, gazing at the mischievous deity with a knowing glint in his eyes.

Tidewoggle, ever the jokester, replied with a grin, "Oh, Gulliver, my friend, it's all for the fun of it! I create the tides to see the sea creatures dance and the land-dwellers scramble."

Gulliver chuckled softly and said, "Indeed, your jests bring delight, but there is more to your gift than mere amusement. The tides, like life itself, have a deeper meaning."

Perplexed, Tidewoggle tilted his head, eager to hear Gulliver's wisdom.

"Look beyond the splash and foam," Gulliver advised, "The tides rise and fall with the dance of the moon and the sun. They symbolize the rhythm of life, the ebb, and flow of emotions, the cyclic nature of all things."

Tidewoggle listened attentively, and a glimmer of understanding flickered in his eyes.

"You control the tides, dear Tidewoggle, to remind all beings of the interconnectedness of laughter and tears, joy and sorrow," Gulliver continued. "In the highs and lows of the tides, we find the balance between mirth and contemplation, between playfulness and introspection."

A profound silence settled over the beach as Tidewoggle pondered Gulliver's words. The laughter that once echoed boisterously now had a hint of reflection.

From that day on, Tidewoggle's pranks and jokes took on a new depth. The sea creatures would laugh heartily when he playfully splashed them, but they would also pause and contemplate the meaning behind the tides' rise and fall.

And so, the tides of Mirtholia continued to dance to Tidewoggle's tune, a reminder of life's ever-changing cadence. The mischievous deity's laughter still resounded across the sea, but now, it held a profound meaning, touching the hearts of all who heard it.

For in the laughter of Tidewoggle, they found not just amusement but a profound lesson: that life's journey is a beautiful tapestry of highs and lows, of joy and reflection, and that through it all, laughter and meaning intertwine like the waves upon the shore.

Long ago, when the world was young, Mother Nature, and her family, the Keepers of Life still held dominion over all things. In their wisdom, they knew the world would need extra care, so they made People to be their stewards in the nurturing of creation. The Keepers all agreed that people should walk on two legs so they could see the world from different perspectives and so they navigate by the stars Father Sky set out each night to light the darkness. People were gifted with two hands to help them create the things they needed as well as to produce things of beauty. Mother Nature gave them eyes so they could behold the beauty that surrounded them. She also gifted them with ears to hear the songs birds sing and the many duets played by the wind and water. Finally, since People were going to have the great responsibility of caring for creation, the Keepers gifted them with the most complex and capable inner workings. No other heart on Earth was as strong. No other mind as capable of reason and imagination, No other lungs could create voice, language, and song as those given to people. The Keepers of Life were so pleased and so proud of these very complex beings they encased them in skin clearer than the most perfect crystal so that they could look upon them and admire the beautiful and intricate beings they made.

As capable as People were,

The Keepers of Life knew there was much their new stewards would need to learn if they were to be given care of all creation. So, every year when the leaves began to fall and the heat was cooled by the breath of Sister Wind, the wisest and most clever of People were gathered from their dwellings on Grandmother Earth to learn and ask questions of the Keepers. They were taken to a different place each year. Some years they were taught on the Savannah, other years they learned huddled in the snow on the highest mountain tops. Many were held within the forests of the Earth. No matter the place, these gatherings of People and Keepers came to be called the Great Times of Learning.

One year, People decided to ask he Keepers for just one more gift. The People admired and held in awe all the colors in nature that were created by the Keepers. They loved the deep blues, pinks, and purples of the sunset and the clear shimmering blues and greens of water. Many loved the creamy color of the ivory worn by some creatures and the shimmering pearly white of snow. Others marveled at the multitude of colors the birds showed off as they flew through the sky. Some loved the greens found in the plants that grew and the rich browns, tans, and greys, and metallic gleam found within the Earth. More were so memorized by the sparkles that shimmered in certain stones that they made them into things to adorn themselves with. Finally, some were in awe of the reds, yellows, oranges, and blues that danced and changed within the light of Grandfather Fire. Coming together, People wanted to ask their makers to replace their perfect crystal skin with colors like those given to all the other creations of the Keepers, but fearing they would be seen as ungrateful, no one was brave enough to put forward their desire.

The Keepers spent that Time of Learning on a vast plain surrounded by foothills teaching People how to till the Earth and plant seeds to make food grow. People were also shown how to take ore from the Earth to make form metal to make stronger tools. As the air began to grow chill and the last of the leaves fell to the Earth the Time of Learning came to a close. Preparing to say his farewell, Father Sky noticed that People were strangely quiet. For the first time he could remember, People seemed nervous and uncertain. Usually, they laughed and asked a multitude of questions about all manner of creation. Troubled, Father Sky asked his fellow Keepers if they had noticed the difference in People. Indeed, all had noticed the difference in their favorite creation and agreed to determine what the change was all about.

So, before being swept up in Sister Wind's arms for the journey back to their homes, The Keepers sat before the People. Mother nature, noticing the nervousness in the People, decided to soothe their worry and observed. "Our People are strangely quiet this Time of Learning. You do not sing or laugh and your questions are few, what has changed, my children?" she asked, careful to keep her voice gentle as the light percussion the rain makes as it lands on the water.

One of the People, an elderly woman was encouraged by Mother Nature kind words, so she stepped forward and gave a humble bow and choosing her words carefully answered, "Dear mother, we were too afraid to ask because you have already given us so much...but," the woman's voice faltered as she became aware that the eyes of all the Keepers looked upon her.

"But what?" asked Brother Water, his voice rumbling like a summer thunder storm.

Another of the People stepped quietly forward to stand beside the old woman. This was the young boy's first Time of Learning and he possessed the bravery only to be found in the young. With a low bow, he finished the old woman's reply, "We are forever grateful for all you have given us, Mother, but we want to be adorned in color like the rest of your creation. We love the blue you painted the sky, the green the plains wear, and the ever changing blues, reds, and yellows within Grandfather Fire. We are also in awe of the other you've covered your lesser creatures in. I beg your pardon and patience my Mother, but we too wish to have the gift of color." The boy finished unable to hid the quiver in his voice. As he stepped back, he was relieved to see that The Keepers didn't seem angered. Instead, they seemed thoughtful, and Sister Wind and Brother Water seemed to be trying to hide a smile.

Sister Wind, who always struggled to stay quiet broke the silence with her breezy laughter, "You poor little ones." She said with a waive of her hand. "We should have considered that being as crystal would be undesirable. Who would desire to be covered in skin clear and unsubstantial as air, when you're surrounded by a world filled with color."

Grandfather Fire seemed to scowl, which filled People with fear. He was the most unpredictable of The Keepers and his feelings could only be guessed, "And what colors would you want to be adorned in? Not that we promise this gift you seek." His inquired his voice shaking the Earth like the first stirrings of a volcano.

Finding hope in Grandfather Fire's question, the dam of want was opened within People and they started to shout out the colors they loved and desired, "We want to be blue!" some called. "Green and gold!" others exclaimed. "We want to shimmer with many colors like the scales on the fish in the sea!" others shouted.

With a raise of her hand, Grandmother Earth silenced People, "All are great colors" she said calmly to People, "But you are children of Earth." she explained. "Blues, greens, oranges, pinks, purples. These belong to the creatures of the sky, water, and trees. Their colors are the symbol of our promise to watch over them. They were first but lesser than you, so these colors you cannot have. Your request can be granted, but as creatures bound to me, your skin will take on the warm colors found within the Earth." Grandmother Earth finished her obsidian eyes looking to the five other Keepers for agreement.

The other Keepers nodded in agreement, for of them all, Grandmother Earth was the wisest. So, to honor People's request the Keepers stood as one and sang their song of creation. The melody filled the with the sound of glaciers breaking, rock falling down a mountain, rivers raging, and sand in the wind. The song echoed off the hills surrounding them reminding People just how small they really are. As the song ended, People looked down at themselves.

Their colors were just as Grandmother Earth promised. Some were adorned in the color of bronze, others covered in the tan of weather worn copper, some were the warm browns of fertile Earth, and still others were a white splashed in pinks and browns. People looked at each other and marveled in the colors of their brethren. All offered the Keepers their thanks and promised to wear their colors well.

"The brave boy that spoke to the Keepers suddenly laughed with joy. "Some of us have eyes of blue, green, brown, and gray!" he exclaimed. "And look! Some even have hair the color of flame." Sister Wind, Brother Water Father Sky, and even Grandfather Fire smiled with mischief. Before Grandmother Earth could voice her displeasure at going against her desire that the colors be of Earth, Grandfather Fire patted her on the hand saying, "Now mother," he said with a chuckle. "You said their skin must be the colors of the Earth. You said nothing of the eyes or hair." For all his size, Grandfather Fire was somehow able to avoid the swat to the head which was Grandmother Earth's response when someone was more crafty than her.

Looking around and seeing the amusement in the eyes of her children and grandchildren, Grandmother Earth realized she was outnumbered and she had no choice but to sigh and accept People would now have eyes the color of earth, plant, and sea and some would wear hair the color of flame.

Though satisfied with the gifts given to People, Father Sky knew that they were young and often erred in their ways. So, he stood up with a stern look on his face. "Now People. You have been given a gift. I have watched you on high and have witnessed acts of greed, anger, arrogance, hatred, foolishness and pride in you" his eyes met the eyes of all People to make sure they were listening before he continued, "Know this. No matter what color covers you, you all walk on the same Earth and live under the same sky. None are greater or lesser, none more capable than another. Do not let these gifts puff you up and divide you, for you are all made of the same stuff, the color that adorns you is no deeper than your mortal shell."

The People nodded and promised to heed Father Sky's words and so they did for many generations. Sadly the memory of People is as finite as their lives and future generations would eventually forget Father Sky's sage words of warning. So, based on the color adorning them, some People would claim to be more blessed, smarter, wiser, and purer than others. They would forget that they all live under the same sky and walk upon the same Earth. The truth that their differing colors were all born from the same Earth would be ignored or lost on them. Finally, Mother Earth would weep as People's blood would be spilled upon her and Sister Wind would wail as she had no choice but to bear the sounds of suffering and misery as People killed in the name of a gift that was only skin deep.