The Untold Story of Texas Bob Laredo and Stumpy Hollers

Stanley Hollows was a child of the Great Depression. Raised by his maternal grandmother, in the dust bowl of the Texas Pan-Handle, in a one room shack that had a dirt floor, no door, and no glass in the windows.

When Stanley asked his Granny why they didn't live in a nice house like other folks, she told him, 'There ain't no doors in heaven.'

A growing boy can't grow right if he doesn't get the nutrition he needs. The best his Granny could coax out of the parched soil was dandelions. Dandelion tea for breakfast. Dandelion leaves for lunch. Dandelion soup for supper. And if Stanley was ever hungry between meals, there were always more dandelions.

His short legs were an object of ridicule, and it wasn't long before everyone started calling Stanley "Stumpy".

Granny was as thrifty with her affection as she was with her purse, and as crazy as a two dollar watch. But she was all Stanley had. When she couldn't, or wouldn't, buy Stanley a guitar for his birthday, he made his own from a biscuit tin and other bits and pieces found in a junkyard.

The guitar didn't sound right, any more than Stanley looked right, but he could sing. Lord, could that boy sing! He sang in church every Sunday at the Southern United Baptist House of Christ the Redeemer. And had the voice of an angel.

Folks said the Hollows were so poor, even Stanley's hand-me-downs had been somebody else's, and he never owned a pair of shoes in his life.

When Stanley asked his Granny why he didn't have shoes to wear to church, she said, 'There ain't no shoes in heaven. The bless-ed don't need them. They walk around on clouds.'

But then it didn't matter, because when Stanley was singing, people weren't looking at his feet. He sang Peace In The Valley, and May The Circle Be Unbroken, and his heartfelt Were You There (When They Crucified My Lord) caused every soul in the congregation to tremble...

Tremble.

Tremble.

At the age of twelve, Stanley won a talent show at the county fair. First prize was a spot on Hank Holsom's Holy Hour, on a Christian radio station broadcasting out of Abilene, TX.

When his Granny wouldn't pay for a bus ticket, Stanley walked all the way with no shoes, praising the name of Jesus in song, and dreaming of being a star.

"There's a better home a-waiting. In the sky, Lord, in the sky."

The show's host, Hank Holsom, promised Stanley regular appearances. But that never happened.

One night, thinking there must be something better than a crazy old woman and dandelion soup, Stanley wrapped all his worldly possessions in a hand-me-down blue and white polka-dotted handkerchief, picked up his biscuit tin guitar, and ran away from home to join a traveling carnival.

Through the week, Stanley sat in a tent as "The Wild Man Of Borneo", and people paid their two cents to throw peanuts and popcorn at him.

Every morning he knocked on the door of the carnival owner's trailer to ask when he was going to get a chance to sing.

'Soon, Stanley,' was always the answer. 'Real soon.'

In the town of Broderick, Stanley jumped freight and joined the seven piece band at a burlesque theater. Where he started drinking. And fell in love with a tall, blonde exotic dancer by the name of Busty Valentine, whose real name was Misty Pearl. But Stanley was a violent drunk, and Busty left him for a trombone player.

Carrying his biscuit tin guitar, and a broken heart, Stanley drifted from Texas on the east coast, to California on the west coast, and back again. He played in beer joints, and at roadside cafes for the price of a hot meal. He'd bought his first pair of shoes, but they hurt his feet, so he tied the laces together and slung them over a shoulder.

Back in the Lone Star State, he rolled into Laredo like a tumbleweed. And it was there Stanley met Texas Bob.

Texas Bob was a classically trained guitarist, who couldn't find any work for his "fancy pickins".

His real name Moisie Aaron Liebowitz. And he'd been a high school quarterback before dropping out to play at Dance Halls and such.

They sold Bob's 48 Studebaker Champion for the money to make a record at Sun Studio in Memphis Tennessee. The car had cost $1500. They sold it for $300.

'That's cause it were yellow,' said Stumpy.

'What's wrong with yellow?'

'Real men don't drive yellow cars.'

'That's horse-shit,' said Bob, 'n you know it.'

They toured with Johnny Cash, Elvis Presley, and Carl Perkins. On the road, Stumpy developed a drug habit, washing everything down with bottle after bottle of straight bourbon.

They set up as song writers in Nashville Tennessee. When they couldn't get anyone to sing their songs, Texas Bob said to Stumpy, 'Why don't you do it?'

The record went to number one on the country charts, with titles like My Ex-wife Came Back (And Burnt My House Down), and A Dog Called Tiddles (He Squats When He Piddles).

They won a Country Music Award, and then a Grammy, for best original song. They performed at the Grand Ole Opry, and toured to sold out performances all over America.

Stumpy spent $2,000 on a pair of crafted, tooled spanish leather cowboy boots. Only to get drunk one night, and wake up in an alley the next morning to find his boots had been stolen.

'Why don't I have shoes for church, Granny?'

'There ain't no shoes in heaven, child.'

They never had another hit song.

They started fighting.

Texas Bob left to buy a watermelon farm in Dripping Springs, 23 miles west of Austin, in the Texas Hill Country.

Back in Nashville, Stumpy recorded an album of duets with Tammy Wynette. But the album was never released after Stumpy was caught trying to cross the Mexican border with his pockets stuffed full of cocaine.

His defense attorney argued the drugs were for personal use, but the Judge wasn't buying it, and sentenced Stumpy to twelve years in the State Penitentiary, with the chance of parole after six.

Released from jail, Stumpy found a job sweeping floors at a bar called The Whistle Stop Ribs N Wings. In the early hours of the morning, after everyone had staggered home, he would sit on stage and sing to an empty room.

Then, one night, he had the none too bright idea of stealing from the cash register. He "borrowed" the bar owner's pick-up truck, a bottle of Jack Daniels, and drunk at the wheel, he was killed in a head on collision with a school bus.

Texas Bob came to Stumpy's funeral. It was just Bob, the Preacher, Stumpy's coffin, and the rain. He was buried with no shoes on.

You don't need shoes when you're walking on clouds.

Texas Bob went back to his watermelon farm.

So ends the true, if tragic, tale of Texas Bob Laredo and Stumpy Hollers.

There once was a Monkey who climbed a mountain.

And at the very top of the mountain, he met a Fox.

Good fellow, said Fox, why have you made so perilous an expedition for one as small as you?

I come seeking knowledge, said Monkey. There must be more to the world than what we see around us.

Fox reached up, and with his paw, he plucked the ripest and sweetest piece of fruit from the Heavens.

Most intrepid of Monkeys, he said, your courage shall not go unrewarded.

Here is the world. Study it closely, so that you may learn all you can.

But that is only a norange, laughed Monkey. The world is not a norange!

And yet I tell you, this is what you seek, said Fox. Would you refuse my gift?

Having climbed all the way up the mountain, Monkey knew it would be a long way down again, especially with an empty stomach, and so he accepted Fox's offering gratefully. Even though he did not believe the norange to be anything more than it appeared.

Now I would ask something of you, said Fox.

Anything, said Monkey.

Promise me you will not eat the whole fruit yourself, but portion it equally among all of your kind.

There are so many of us, said Monkey. One norange will not be enough.

I will have your word, said Fox, or you will leave here with nothing. The choice is yours.

In that case, said Monkey, I will share your norange.

And so Monkey made his way back down the mountain, to his family and friends.

What did you find? They asked.

Only this, said Monkey, holding out the fruit for all to see. And a fool of a Fox.

But remembering his promise, he tore open the norange and gave a piece to each of them, saying: My world is yours. All that I have in the world I give willingly.

And for every segment Monkey gave freely, a new one took its place, until every other Monkey had eaten of its flesh, savouring its sweetness, sucking the piece dry, and spitting out the pips.

From the seeds grew trees. And on the trees grew more noranges.

There was no place where Monkey did not simply need to reach up and pick for himself a full ripe and sweet norange.

One day, many years later, Fox came down from the mountain.

Who is the fool now? He asked Monkey.

I am, said Monkey. I did not believe you, but look... See how happy we are. You gave me the gift of more than a norange. You gave me the wisdom to realize the importance of sharing. Not just food, but knowledge. Thank you, friend Fox. You are truly the wisest of all.

The setting sun was purple shadowing the sagebrush when The Rocking Horse Kid moseyed on into the town of Moist Gusset to go a courting his sweetheart, Miss Fanny Dimples.

He rode a white maned and tailed appaloosa with black spots painted on its hindquarters, like polka dots on a neckerchief, he called Joiner. Joiner Dots.

Twin leather holsters held a pair of pearl handled revolvers. Not that The Kid had ever shot anyone. He didn't need to. When the bad guys heard he was in town they skedaddled for the hills as fast as their ske could daddle.

A white stetson hat kept the sun out of his eyes.

His cowboy boots had pointed, silver tipped toes.

He wore a pair of fringed chaps for fringing the high chaparral.

A cow hide vest with a sheriff's badge pinned over his heart.

And spurs that jingle jangle jingled.

Miss Fanny Dimples lived in a two room tar-paper shack behind the respectable tearoom where she helped her widowed mother. When The Kid jingle jangled through the tearoom's door, Miss Fanny looked out the window with its blue gingham curtains.

Where's your horse? She asked him.

The hitching post was already taken, he told her.

Moist Gusset was a one horse town.

The Kid's full name was G. Russell Horne. Miss Fanny had soon shortened it to Rusty. Rusty Horne and Fanny Dimples were often seen parading, arm in arm, down Main Street. Moist Gusset's only street. Her twirling a yellow parasol all the way from Paris. Paris Texas. And him trying not to trip over his spurs.

On Sundays after church, Rusty would hire a surrey from the stables to take Miss Fanny picnicking by the river. And if he played his cards right, she might even allow him the familiarity of dunking his jam fancy in her pot of cream.

Everything was satisfactual. Little bluebirds were doo-dahing their zippeties. Miss Fanny was the belle of Moist Gusset's annual harvest barn dance and christian ladies' mud wrestling contest, taking home the winner's blue ribbon.

Down in the barnyard

Swinging on a gate

Take your girl

And don't be late

Chicken in a bread pan

Picking out dough

Swing your girl

And do-si-do

Allemande left

With the corner maid

Meet your own

And promenade

Promenade

Two by two

Now walk 'em home

Like you ought to do

Here we go

Heel and toe

Hurry up cowboy

Don't be slow

Swing 'em high

Swing 'em low

Turn 'em loose

And watch 'em go

Bow to your corners

Weave the ring

Cats can't fiddle

And dogs don't sing

Rusty was proudly promenading Miss Fanny in step and in time with the other heel kickers when Pecos Pete tapped him on the shoulder.

Pass on through, said Rusty. Nobody's handling my Fanny, but me.

Pete had been drinking. Corn-jugged to the eyeballs, he wasn't about to take no for an answer. He swung a wild haymaker at Rusty's lantern jaw.

Rusty ducked. Pecos Pete just about swung himself off his feet. His punch found the preacher's wife instead. Reverend Lamb was a peaceful man of God, but he couldn't abide to stand there and turn the other cheek. Snatching up a bottle of elderberry wine from the refreshments table, he smote Pete a mighty blow crying, Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord!

Stumbling backwards, one of Pecos Pete's windmilling arms knocked the fiddle player's elbow. And while the wallflowers wilted, the young bucks yee-hawed and waded in. All hell broke loose. Tables were overturned. Chairs were thrown. A smashed lamp set the stacked strawbales ablaze. And the fiddler struck up Bonaparte's Retreat as the barn burned around them.

Hoisting Miss Fanny over his shoulder, The Rocking Horse Kid done git while the gittin' was good.

There was nothing Rusty Horne would have liked more than to sit in the tearoom, eating jam fancies, and talking about Fanny, but then the tearoom door crashed open and the barkeep from the Floating Nugget staggered in.

We need you down at the saloon! He hollered. His face behind the handlebar of his beeswaxed moustache whiter than his crisply starched apron.

Remembering his manners, The Rocking Horse Kid folded his napkin and brushed the crumbs off the blue gingham tablecloth into a saucer before excusing himself to Fanny’s mother. He picked up his hat. Loosened his twin pearl handled pistols in their holsters, just in case, and moseyed on down to the Floating Nugget to see what the trouble was.

Pushing through the batwing doors of the saloon, Rusty realized, too late, that the barkeep was right behind him. The spring hinged doors swung back, lifting the man off his feet and sending him flying through the air to land with a wet SPLAT in the mud of Moist Gusset’s Main Street.

The barkeep wasn’t alone in his predicament for long. Old Corky Sniffter, who was Moist Gusset’s town drunk, came windmilling through one of the Floating Nugget’s two plate glass windows, with their expensive gilt lettering, to land head first in the sludgesome quagmire.

Inside the Floating Nugget was a riot of splintered furniture and cracked skulls. Men sprawled everywhere, black eyed and bloody nosed, nursing bruised ribs and even more bruised egos. And in the middle of it all stood Moist Gusset’s blacksmith, Dolorous Dire.

Dolorous like Delores: Only the spelling was unfortunate.

Dolly Dire wasn’t a mean drunk, Rusty knew, and she wasn’t the type to start a bar room brawl. But she knew how to finish one.

Meanwhile, back on Main Street, the barkeep had managed to extricate himself from the sticky situation he’d been in and pushed through the batwing doors, only realizing, too late, that Old Corky Sniffter had also unpredicamented himself, and was right behind him.

It really wasn’t Corky’s day.

Who’s going to pay for all the damages? The barkeep quavered like an asthmatic soprano.

Don’t look now, Dolorous said to Rusty, but Pecos Pete is standing right behind you,

What’s he doing? Asked Rusty, cucumber cool.

He’s pointing a gun at your back.

The Kid’s palm scraped his stubbled lantern jaw. You don’t say?

I guess he really didn’t like you kissing his Fanny, said Dolorous.

The barkeep had already absconded as fast as his ab could scond and was crouched, snivelling falsetto, behind the bar.

This town ain’t big enough for the both of us, said Pete, thumbing the hammer back on his six shooter. Putting your hands on my Fanny was the last thing you’ll ever do, gravelled Pecos Pete. Say your prayers.

Back on Main Street, Old Corky Sniffter was snapping his braces and setting his shoulders, ready to make a run at the saloon doors. The thirst was on him something powerful, and nothing and nobody was going to stop him!

He hit them like a runaway locomotive.

Barrelling through the batwings.

And ploughing into Pecos Pete.

Causing Pete’s finger to tighten on the trigger.

The gun fired.

BANG!

The bullet ricocheted off a spitoon to part the barkeep’s toupe straight down the middle before it shattered three bottles of whiskey and one of tequila on the mirrored shelf behind the Floating Nugget’s spit polished mahogany bar and PINGED off a brass lampshade.

Where it went after that nobody knew...

Until Rusty hauled Pete’s head up by a fistful of lank hair and grinned at him. And there, clenched between The Kid’s teeth, was the bullet.

Many of the best 'last words' are, inevitably, apocryphal, or the exact wording is disputed. Nevertheless, the following are ones that I rather like.

'I should never have switched from Scotch to Martinis.' (Humphrey Bogart, actor)

'The executioner is, I believe, very expert; and my neck is very slender.' (Anne Boleyn, consort of King Henry VIII)

'Bugger Bognor.' (King George V)

'This wallpaper and I are fighting a duel to the death. Either it goes or I do.' (Oscar Wilde, humorist & writer)

'The Sun is God.' (JMW Turner, painter)...Or did he mean 'Son'?

And mine...?

I can do no better than the final words/thoughts of Robert Lungfesty, the protagonist of my novella 'The Last Piece'...

'Peace at Last.'

(or is it really 'Piece at Last'?)

Part 2 of The Wizard Of Whyr

Aldhyrwoode was troubled. He sat at the kitchen table in the crofter's house, holding a horn of untasted mead, thinking he might have made a terrible mistake. The cat-woman, Shadow, stood behind the wizard's chair, while two of the Skraaal guards patrolled the yard outside.

Is something wrong? The crofter asked.

Hmmm, said Aldhyrwoode, still deep in thought.

I'll pour you another, said the crofter.

But Aldhyrwoode waved him away, saying, You have horses?

Yes?

We need them, said the wizard. And he pushed his chair back to leap to his feet so suddenly, Shadow had to move aside just as nimbly.

Where will you go? Asked the crofter.

To Castellayne first. To speak with King Aldhyn. And then, said Aldhyrwoode, I will need to go to Qin Xa, and the Jade Temple.

What if the dragon returns? The village is in an uproar as it is. What with the forest burning and...

Her Imperial Highness will not be back, Aldhyrwoode told him. It was Eav she wanted, and Eav is not here.

Take me with you, said the crofter. If Eav is in danger, I want to help.

The child's life is not at risk, said Aldhyrwoode, but ours might be. All of human-kind. Oh, I'm a fool! A fool! Come if you will - And be quick about it!

In the century since Aldhyn's great-grandfather had founded the kingdom, Rhealmyrr had grown in power and influence to rival its much larger neighbour, Navarre. The two were now bound firmly together by blood, the Duke of Navarre being Aldhyn's cousin, Rafael, who was the son of Duke Rhowyn, who was the son of King Robin, who was the son of Rhealmyrr's first king, D'Arturian. And the wizard, Aldhyrwoode, after whom Aldhyn was named, had been there from the very beginning.

Where is my rug? Aldhyrwoode asked loudly, striding through the doors of the Great Hall at Castellayne.

Presumably where you left it, replied King Aldhyn, seemingly not the least bit surprised by the wizard's sudden appearance. But might I ask why you need it? And who is this with you?

This is the crofter, said Aldhyrwoode. His name is...

Colm, Your Majesty.

Comb? Asked Aldhyrwoode.

Not Comb. Colm.

That is what I said!

C o l m, spelled the crofter.

Whatever, said Aldhyrwoode. Where is my rug?

Do you mean my grandmother's flying carpet? Asked King Aldhyn.

That is exactly what I mean. Where is it?

You had it last, said the king. What did you do with it?

Aldhyrwoode threw his hands in the air. If I could remember, he said, I would not need to ask!

Take Shadow, Aldhyrwoode told the crofter, and go and find my rug. She knows what it looks like. I must speak to Aldhyn - Alone.

What is it? Asked the young king. Is it about the child?

Aldhyrwoode nodded. Eav is who I thought. She is The Dragon's Pearl.

And her mother?

The Empress of Qin Xa was there.

Did it go as badly as you feared?

It did not go well, said Aldhyrwoode. The De-Xian were there, as arranged. And I gave Eav over to her father. Or I thought I did. Only, now...

You have doubts?

I think The Dragon Emperor was someone else. An imposter. I did not recognize him in the confusion. It only came to me later. The Emperor's human form was a bit too human. And, if I'm right, then...

If it wasn't the real Emperor, said Aldhyn, who was it?

It was your father. The Snow Bear - Felix Ulveus.

There were a thousand questions. The crofter, Colm, asked most of them. Aldhyrwoode did his best to explain.

Ulveus is the bastard son of Don Matteo, the younger brother of Don Sebastian, who was the Duke of Navarre, with one of Bjern Bearskinner's three daughters. When Don Sebastian's son, Alejandro, died at the battle of The Isle Of Bones, against the Clan uprising, Sebastian adopted Prince Rhowyn as his grandson, and nominated him to be the next duke. The council of Navarre's most noble families agreed, but only after Rhowyn was betrothed to the daughter of Don Javier Des Santiago. The dukedom was never offered to Matteo when Sebastian died, even though he had as much right to be put forward as anyone. Ulveus and his father, Matteo, were frequent guests of King Robin and Queen Saavi at Castellayne, until Ulveus raped the Princess Marisanne. King Aldhyn is their son. But Felix Ulveus also could have become the Duke of Navarre, through his father's side, and would have if he could have, if the noble families had not concurred with Rhowyn's wish that his first born son, Rafael, succeed him. Rafael being half Des Santiago made all the difference. That and the fact that Ulveus has never been...

The full bale of straw? Suggested Colm.

Yes, said Aldhyrwoode. Exactly.

The "rug" was found rolled up and shoved under Aldhyrwoode's bed.

It's always the last place you look, grumbled the wizard.

Where are my spectacles? He asked Shadow. Have you seen them?

They are on your face, Master.

And my hat? I will need my hat.

You are wearing it.

Eh? Oh. Right. Spectacles. Hat. Staff. Magic carpet. We have everything we need!

Yes, Master.

Then what are we waiting for? Said Aldhyrwoode. Let us be off!

Shadow followed the wizard to the door of his chamber, where he suddenly stopped and, over his shoulder said, And bring my spectacles with you.

On the ground outside the wizard's tower, two of the castle guards unrolled the flying carpet for another eight to stand on its edges and corners until Colm, Shadow, and Aldhyrwoode were sitting comfortably. The guards were ready to step back and release the magic carpet when King Aldhyn appeared, dressed for an adventure in a pair of old boots, russet brown hose, and a forest green tunic that was belted at the waist. The short steel sword in its plain leather scabbard at his hip was plain and practical.

Is there room for one more? He asked.

The Stairs To The Eternal Throne formed a natural border between the lands surrounding the fortress city of Jal Naghrahar and the federation of nation states and their provinces ruled by the Qin. The mountains' snow-capped rugged peaks were higher than the clouds. The Jade Temple was exactly that; built using solid blocks and columns of the green stone that had been shaped and intricately carved by no human hand.

Must be a bugger to heat, said Colm.

It would be, Aldhyrwoode told him, if the mountain was not a volcano. The De-Xian use vented shafts inside the walls to circulate hot air, as well as thermal springs that flow through pipes under the floors, to regulate the temperature. And there are gardens, in raised beds watered by mountain streams, all under artificial lights powered by energy generated from underground rivers using pressure to turn turbines.

Like a mill-wheel grinds flour? Colm asked.

Yes and no, said Aldhyrwoode. The technology is a bit more complicated than that, but the theory... I can explain it to you later, in more detail, when we have time. And, perhaps, even show you. If the De-Xian allow it.

What kind of welcome are you expecting? Aldhyn asked the wizard.

Let us hope it is a warm one. replied Aldhyrwoode, but not too warm.

Is my father there, do you think?

Unlikely, said Aldhyrwoode. He would have known we would come here.

How did he manage to get one of the airships? Said Colm.

By force, said Aldhyrwoode. That is how Ulveus gets most things.

The evidence was there, scattered all around them, when they landed in a large paved courtyard behind a crenellated wall that was draped with the bodies of dozens of dead Imperial Guards.

The halls of the Jade Temple were silent and empty.

We are too late, said Shadow.

No one, it seemed, had been spared.

The dead lay piled, one on top of another, where they had fallen, in what must have been one last stand of desperate and savage hand to hand fighting.

Most were Qin, but more than a few were De-Xian, and among them lay the bodies of their attackers.

These are Horned Men, said Aldhyn, kneeling to inspect one of the corpses.

This one is Gir, said Shadow. But there are others with painted faces and feathers in their hair.

And there are Leopard Men here, said Aldhyrwoode, from the jungles of Zuul.

Mercenaries, said Aldhyn. They must be. Here is another from Navarre. And there a Petroan. And these two are raiders, from Greyshale.

The defenders did not die easily, said Shadow.

I think this one might be Skraaal, said Colm, but I can't be sure. He could be De-Xian. How do you tell?

Their colour, said Aldhyrwoode. The Skraaal are always varying shades of green. The De-Xian are blue. Or silver.

Or gold, said Shadow, like the Empress.

No blade did this, said Aldhyn, who was crouched over the body of a Qin warrior. The throat has been torn out... By some kind of animal, it looks like. A wolf, maybe. Or a tygre. What do you think? He asked Aldhyrwoode.

But whatever the wizard was thinking, he kept to himself, saying only, We have no more time for the dead. Let us worry about the living.

The Dragon Emperor had been mortally wounded. They found him slumped at the base of the Imperial Throne, somehow, by some miracle or sheer strength of will, still alive.

In his true form, Ataam was more reptile than human, though no less noble, or handsome. Layer upon layer of irriedescent silver scales shimmered from the top of his ridged and crested skull to the very tip of his long sinuous tail.

Hearing the echo of footsteps, he stirred and called, Who is there?

It is King Aldhyn, answered Aldhyrwoode, of Rhealmyrr.

Aaaaah... A king has come to bury an emperor.

What happened here? Asked Aldhyrwoode.

I know you, said Ataam. You are the one they call Al Den Whyr.

It is a name I have not heard for a very long time, said the wizard.

What is a hundred years or so? It means no more to us than a single grain of sand in an hour-glass.

Who did this? Aldhyn asked. Was it Ulveus?

There was no reply.

The Dragon Emperor was fading.

Do something, said Aldhyn.

But Aldhyrwoode shook his head.

There is nothing he can do, said Ataam. I feel no pain. I am beyond that. Be quiet now and hear me. Ulveus supplied the temple with eunuchs. That was how he was able to come and go without suspicion. We never thought... We did not expect... He came for Eav. Xer Xia took our daughter and escaped. I did not know where until a raven came... It brought a message from the other side of the world. Ulveaus was still here then. Do not blame yourself, Al Den Whyr. You could not have known. You must find The Empress. Xer Xia is not of our race. Not De-Xian. She existed before... Before the world. Before the mountain. And, yet, Xer Xia is the mountain... Eav created the world. But Xer Xia is the world. The... Life... The Spirit of... Qi. Find her. There is a monastery. Tell the Abbot. The monks will care for the -

He is gone, said Aldhyrwoode.

There is something over here I think you should see, said Colm.

Aldhyn and Aldhyrwoode stepped over bodies to where the crofter had found the dead Skraaal. Or so he had thought.

The wedge-shaped head with its long lower jaw and prominent brow above the eye were the same, and so were the muscular torso and serpentine tail, but the forearms were shorter, the legs more like a bird than a lizard. And there was something else. The most obvious difference.

That is not green, said Colm, or blue.

How odd, mused Aldhyrwoode. Most peculiar. The scales are larger, and more coarse.

And black, said Colm.

And note the roughness of their edges. They are not uniformly curved.

And they are black, said Colm.

Note also, said Aldhyrwoode, the lack of a crest or ridges on top of the skull.

Black with a dull red at the throat, said Colm.

Look at the tongue, the wizard continued, see how it forks? Now, that is different!

There is more of the same red on his abdomen, said Colm, and the underside of his tail.

I wonder, said Aldhyrwoode, if he might be a separate species...

The tongue would make clear speech difficult, said Aldhyn.

As yet undiscovered, said Aldhyrwoode. Imagine that!

But mostly black, said Colm. Not green. Not even a deep blue.

Aldhyrwoode looked up the crofter - finally. What are you waffling on about?

Shadow had joined them. Who are the painted men, Master? She asked.

They have the same coloured skin as the Gir, said Aldhyn, a dark copper. And the same, or similar, hair. Shaved on both sides of the head, but with a braided top-knot, or stiffened like porcupine quills with... What is that?

Whatever it is, said Shadow, it smells!

Aldhyrwoode rubbed the greasy substance between his thumb and forefinger, and raised them to his nose, sniffing. It is some kind of animal fat.

What of the animal pelts? Asked Aldhyn. I know buckskin when I see it. And wolf. But what are those hanging from his shoulders? Beaver?

Or possibly otter,' said Aldhyrwoode.

Then this man, and the others like him, Aldhyn gestured, must come from...

Aldhyrwoode beat him to it. The New Worlde!

Eh? The crofter looked confused.

It is the only place where otters can be found, the wizard explained, and it may be where the odd looking fellow you showed us comes from.

Do you mean the black one?

Yes, said Aldhyrwoode. But why do you keep harping on about his colour? Shadow is black, and you are not obsessed by her... Much.

Returning to the magic carpet, they rolled away the dead guards they had used to hold it to the ground.

Colm said, We cannot leave them like that.

The monks will perform the proper funeral rites, Aldhyrwoode told him. And burn the bodies.

And Ataam?

Will lay at rest in a magnificent tomb, befitting The Dragon Emperor.

And what about us? What are we going to do? Look for the Empress?

Greyshale first, said Aldhyrwoode. To speak to Harald.

Do you think he might know something?

Aldhyrwoode shrugged. He is Bearskinner's grandson. And cousin to Ulveus. But that is not our reason for going there. We will need a small army, if we are to have any chance of rescuing Eav. And to move such an army, we are going to need ships.

The De-Xian have ships, said Aldhyn, Ships that are faster than longboats.

You are forgetting something, Aldhyrwoode said. We do not know how to fly them.

Aldhyn grinned. How hard can it be?

They separated to search for the airships. Aldhyn with Shadow. And Colm with Aldhyrwoode.

One thing still puzzles me, said the crofter.

Aldhyrwoode raised an eyebrow. Only one?

What Ataam said about Eav and Xer Xia. How could the Empress be the world before the world was created.

So, what you are struggling with, said Aldhyrwoode, is which came first: The dragon or the egg?

Well?

Well what?

Which is it?

Fortune favours those who procrastinate. They were still debating the advantages of airships, Aldhyrwoode arguing he had never seen a longboat fall out of the sky, when Colm spotted the saffron robes of monks approaching the Jade Temple.

We have company! He called.

Ascending the thousands of steps cut into the steep slope of the mountain, the monks were closely followed by as many as five score De-Xian, and the same number again of Qin. But these weren't warriors. They were farmers and herdsmen, armed with hoes and axes, and anything else that had been near to hand.

Someone must have gone for help, said the crofter.

The De-Xian, as many as half their number mounted on yaks, were very definitely not farmers. They wore moulded plates of armour, and carried what looked to be short spears, made of the same dull grey metal as the airships.

Maybe they were out on patrol, said Colm, and are just now returning.

Whoever they are, said Aldhyrwoode, we had better go and meet them. They will have a lot of questions... And we have a lot of explaining to do.

They were joined by Aldhyn and Shadow.

You did say we would need a small army, said Aldhyn, pointing toward the De-Xian. I think we may have found one.

The Qin stayed to gather the dead, before returning to their farms and herds.

The De-Xian paid their respects, bowing their heads as The Dragon Emperor's body was carried past them by the monks. There would be no tomb for Ataam. His corpse would be cremated with the others and the ashes scattered to the four winds. It was their way.

When it was done, the De-Xian commander, Draaal Vooor, appeared before Aldhyrwoode. Fully the height of two men, he towered over the wizard. who was taller than most.

Goodness, said Aldhyrwoode, craning his neck to meet the Draaal's gaze. You are a big fellow!

Althen-ood, Vooor rasped, sounding like two giant boulders grinding against each other in a landslide. Half go. Half stay.

Fifty will do very nicely, thank you, said Aldhyrwoode. If the other chaps are anything like you, they will be more than enough.

The Draaal nodded curtly and turned to stalk away, signalling to the yak riders to mount their shaggy beasts.

Did you ask him why the monastery is so heavily guarded? Said Aldhyn.

It would seem, replied the wizard, that the Draaal is tasked with protecting all the different peoples of the mountains, not just the monks, from a very large, very hairy, hominid.

A what-in-id? Asked Colm.

A creature that walks on two legs.

Like a man?

Like a man, yes, but not exactly. They call them Yeh Ti.

Aldhyn asked, Does the Abbot have any idea where Xer Xia might be?

We do not need the Abbot to tell us that. The Dragon Empress will be wherever Eav is.

But we do not know where the child is.

Oh, I don't know. I think we could hazard a guess.

West, said Shadow.

With the otters, said Colm.

And the painted men.

Draaal Vooor's second in command, Na Laaam, supervised the loading of the De-Xian and ten of their yaks onto a large airship designed and built to carry cargo. The magic carpet was rolled up and stowed onboard as well.

Do you know how to fly one of these? Aldhyn asked.

No, drawled Na Laaam, but the yaks do.

Is that a joke? Said Colm. That was a joke, right?

Na Laaam almost smiled. I will be your pilot.

A De-Xian smiling was a gruesome sight, and the crofter stepped back, away from the rows of crocodile-like teeth.

First things first, said Aldhyrwoode. We find the Empress. She will lead us to Ulveus. The bond between a mother and her child is a strong one. For all we know, Xer Xia may have already rescued Eav, and does not need our help. But we cannot be certain. We can be sure that Eav is still alive, and resisting whatever the Snow Bear has planned, because the world has not changed, and we are still here, in the world, and not toads, or mushrooms, or specks of dust. For Eav's powers to work, it must be a conscious thought made willingly by her. Not forced. Not some childish whim, or something in her dreams. He has to convince her, somehow, that the world would be a better place if she was to do what he asked of her.

Why does she not just zap him into oblivion? Asked Shadow. I would.

He must be keeping her drugged, Aldhyrwoode hypothesized. It is the only explanation I can think of.

But he would need Eav to be awake, said Colm, just to speak to her, if, as you say, he wants her on his side.

Not necessarily, said Aldhyrwoode. It is possible to communicate with someone who is in a state of unconsciousness. They do not stop hearing. Or understanding. Eav will be aware of what is happening to her, and around her, but she will not be able to do anything about it. Ulveus cannot, dares not, bring her out of her sleep state until he is certain she will do his bidding. And that buys us time.

The question, said King Aldhyn, is what does Ulveus want?

Simple, answered Aldhyrwoode. Everything. The world. The stars. The worlds beyond the stars. Eav's powers for his own. Ulveus does not just want to be a god. He wants to be the only "God".

They called themselves the Che De Naw. It meant "First People". Or "Only People". Every tribe had the same idea. But they were nothing more than animals. Savages. No better than the Gir nomads of the plains.

First People my arse! Ulveus shouted. Do you hear me? You are not even human!

There was a great roaring from outside the entrance of the sea-cliff cave, where the Che De Naw sheltered with Ulveus and his mercenaries.

If you want me, you scaly bitch, he roared back in reply, come and fucking get me!

There was nothing "new" about the New Wolde. The De-Xian had always known about it. The western continent had existed for as long as the Old Worlde of Rhealmyrr and Navarre, of Petros and the Darkelyn forest, of Qin and Jal Naghrahar, and Greyshale, the island stronghold of the Northmen. Others had reached its shores before Bjern Bearskinner. The ancestors of the many tribes who inhabited its verdant wilderness and sweeping prairies had made the perilous journey over the polar ice that linked the two worldes tens of centuries before. And were surprised to discover those who called themselves the Drooon, the Snake People, already there.

The Dragon Empress could have filled the cave with fire, roasting every living soul inside it like spitted spring lambs, or shook the earth itself to bring huge boulders crashing down - If Eav was not tied to a wooden stake at the cave's only entrance.

Is there any way we can signal Xer Xia? Aldhyrwoode asked Na Laaam. We might never find Her Imperial Highness otherwise.

The Empress will know we are coming, said their De-Xian pilot.

Aldhyrwoode did not ask how.

Dragons move in mysterious ways.

They have powers no mortal can begin to contemplate.

Aldhyn could not have been more wrong about the straightforwardness of flying an airship, and yet he could not have been more right. There was no chair for the pilot, and no control panel of buttons, or levers, or blinking lights. A pulsing blue-lit globe floated, without any obvious means of suspension, at waist height for Na Laaam, who moved an open hand near the globe in whichever direction he wanted the airship to go, while speaking commands such as faster, slower, up, down, and hold, when he needed the airship to hover in place.

It looked a lot easier than it actually was; something Aldhyn discovered for himself when he grazed the tops of a giant redwood forest as they flew south, following the New Worlde's eastern shoreline. But Na Laaam only nodded for the young king to stay with the globe and continue, no matter how loudly Colm requested the pilot to take back control.

He will kill us all! Cried the panicked crofter.

I think it might be wise to remember whom you speak of, said Aldhyrwoode.

Sorry, said Colm. His Majesty will kill us all!

Relax, the wizard told him. There is no need to be "Alaaamed"

They were skimming over a rocky coast with sheer vertical cliffs when Na Laaam announced triumphantly, There! Do you see?

Soaring towards them came Xer Xia. The great golden dragon, clothed with the sun.

Where can we land? Asked Aldhyrwoode. I must speak to the Empress.

The word "Speak" rang through the interior of the airship.

A woman's voice said, Greetings, Al Den Whyr. For once your interfering is not unwelcome.

Greetings, Your Imperial Highness, replied Aldhyrwoode. We have fifty of your finest De-Xian warriors with us. How may we serve?

Na Laaam, said the Empress. There is a beach. You cannot miss it. The albino's ships are anchored there. Land and deploy your troops, and await my further instruction.

Understood, said Na Laaam.

Aldhyn, King.

Your Highness?

If I asked you to stay with the airship, could you fly straight and level toward the cliff face?

Yes, You Highness.

The defenders will pose no risk to you, their numbers are few, and their weapons are primitive. Do not alter your course until I say so.

Understood, Your Highness.

Now... Al Den Whyr. Make your way to the rear of the ship. Na Laaam will lower the loading hatch. I will be there. Climb onto my back. And, please, do not fall off.

As if I would! Huffed the wizard. Riding a dragon is no different to riding a horse!

What about me? Asked Shadow. I want to help.

And me, added Colm.

Ah, yes, Said the Empress Xer Xia. The cat and the crofter. My daughter remembers you fondly. And, because Eav trusts you, yours will be the most perilous mission of all.

There is a cave, the Empress explained. It cannot be seen from the beach. You must leave the airship with the De-Xian, and climb up to the cave's entrance. Eav is there. Untie her, and carry her to safety. Can you do that?

Yes, said Shadow.

You can rely on us, said Colm, Your Uhm... Holiness.

Standing behind two ranks of his De-Xian, with the yak riders positioned on the left flank, closest to a natural rampart of tumbled together rocks and boulders of varying shapes and sizes at the base of the cliff, Na Laaam told Colm and Shadow, My orders are to create a diversion. And to assist you in rescuing the Earth Mother with covering fire.

Good, said Colm. Because something tells me we are going to need all the help we can get. But what are you going to do after throwing your spears? I noticed your warriors only have one each.

They are not spears, said Na Laaam, unslinging the short length of dull grey metal tubing from his shoulder. This is a Sonic Disruptor. It uses high frequency sound waves to vibrate particles of carbon until they implode.

Eh?

Perhaps if you show us, suggested Shadow.

Na Laaam pointed the weapon at a longboat lying at anchor nearest to the shore. There was no thrum of a crossbow. And no visible projectile. But the hull began to shudder so violently, the caulked planks peeled away from the oak frame, bronze nails screeching as they were torn free of the timber. And then the entire longboat suddenly appeared to dissolve, until there was nothing left but sawdust and splinters floating on the rippling water.

The crofter swore.

Shadow looked impressed.

Your people know not to aim those things anywhere near us, right? Asked Colm.

Our weapons will be set to incapacitate, said Na Laaam. The effect will not be so... destructive.

Still, said Colm nervously. Better safe than sorry, eh?

The Dragon Empress glided behind the airship with occasional beats of her wings to maintain height. Anyone looking out to sea from inside the cave would only be able to see the large De-Xian cargo carrier, being piloted by Aldhyn, but that was enough to cause panic among the native tribesmen, and even more so for the Drooon, their sibilant hissing drowning out the voices of their human masters - The Horned Men of Darkelyn.

Never mind that bloody thing! Ulveus roared, trying to make himself heard above the panicked shouting and yelling that echoed off the walls of the cave. Worry about those scaly bastards down there! Go and chase them away from the boats! Go! GO! We need them! Do you want to be stranded here? In this shit-hole?

He hadn't forgotten The Dragon Empress. She would be out there, he knew, somewhere. But as long as he had Eav...

In his excitement, his staff held like a jouster's lance, Aldhyrwoode was digging his heels into Xer Xia's sides, crouched over her serpentine neck, flapping his elbows, and urging her on with clicks of his tongue.

Stop kicking me, you old fool. There is a ledge near the cave's entrance, the Empress told him. It is too narrow for me to land on, so you will need to be ready to jump. Keep Ulveus away from Eav until the others can reach you. But do not kill him. That pleasure is mine.

The Snow Bear was a bastard, by birth and by nature, but Aldhyrwoode knew in his heart he could never take Ulveus's life. He had known Felix since he was a boy. Nor could he allow the Empress to. And if he could not convince her, then he would find some way to stop Xer Xia from taking her revenge for a murdered Ataam.

But that would have to wait.

The airship veered to the left and up.

The great golden dragon swooped to the right and down.

Suddenly, the narrow ledge was there.

Aldhyrwoode clutched his staff tighter - And jumped.

Almost blinded by sand and grit blown into his face by the dragon's pounding wings, he stumbled and had to cling for life to a rocky outcrop. His wizard's staff was knocked out of his hand. And with it went all that was Aldhyrwoode.

The yak riders moved forward, slowly. In the middle of them, Shadow and Colm were screened from the Drooon, who were throwing rocks at the De-Xian. A yak went down on its forelegs, bellowing in pain. Its rider aimed his Sonic Disruptor and one of the black Skraaal fell to the ground, convulsing spastically, and foaming at the mouth.

Shadow didn't bother to ask Colm if he was ready, but took the more direct approach of grabbing him by the arm and yanking him out of the knot of snorting grumbling yaks, and onto the first of the many rocks they would have to scramble over.

Na Laaam to Aldhyn! Circle around and come back to the beach!

Understood!

Na Laaam to Mother! Activate and engage!

Mother? Who's Mother? And what did you just do?

It was just a stick, Aldhyrwoode told himself. I do not need it.

Ulveus snatched a handful of a Che De Naw child's braided hair.

There, boy! What do you see?

It... It is an old man.

The Snow Bear didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

You old bugger! What are you doing here?

Felix?

Yes, it's me. Who else would it be?

I have come for the child, said Aldhyrwoode.

Ulveus stepped in front of Eav with his arms folded. You cannot have her.

Holding his hand out toward Ulveus, Aldhyrwoode said, I was a fool. I should never have been so slow to see through your deception. Give her to me... It is the only way I can save you from the Empress.

You were a fool to follow me here, said Ulveus. And an even bigger fool if you think I would give up The Dragon's Pearl so easily.

Her wrists bound with leather cuffs, that in turn were chained to a tall thick wooden stake, the size of a small tree, hammered into the ground, the unconscious Eav hadn't stirred.

What have you been using on her? Aldhyrwoode asked Ulveus.

The seed of the poppy flower.

Ah... How large a dose? The wizard was familar with the properties of opiates.

No more than she can handle, replied Ulveus. Don't worry. I'm not stupid.

The airship hovered low over the small fleet anchored off the beach.

Target identified. Do you wish to proceed?

It took Aldhyn a moment to realize the voice had come from the floating blue orb.

Is this Mother? He asked.

Do you wish to proceed? The orb repeated.

Proceed with what?

Do you wish to proceed?

Through the viewing screen, Aldhyn could see a Petroan galley. Was that the target?

Do you wish to -

Proceed. Said Aldhyn.

Target engaged, said Mother. Activating.

The galley was there.

And then it wasn't.

The Drooon lay everywhere. Senseless. Helpless. Shadow and Colm picked their way between them, or simply stepped over them. There was a clattering above them, the sound of something bouncing off rock. Colm looked up just in time to catch it.

They must be out of stones, he said to Shadow. They're throwing sticks at us, now.

That is no stick, said the cat-woman. That is the Master's staff!

The airship turned.

Target identified.

Aldhyn could see a three masted Qin ship. Short and broad, with a tall forecastle and stern.

Do you wish to proceed?

Proceed.

Na Laaam to Aldhyn! How do you like our Mother?

She's full of surprises!

My Lord!

One of the Horned Men stood behind Ulveus.

The Snow Bear didn't bother to turn around. Fuck off!

But, My Lord! The ships! They are gone!

Gone? What do you mean gone? They can't just -

His albinism meant Ulveus always struggled to see long distances in bright sunlight. But he could see well enough.

He glowered at Aldhyrwoode. Who's out there? Is it her? The great golden snatch?

Before Aldhyrwoode could answer, Ulveus had spun around.

Don't just fucking stand there! He snarled at the faun. Go and tell those stupid savages to make themselves useful!

Useful? Asked Aldhyrwoode. How can they hope to -

Just wait, Ulveus told him. You'll see.

Eav opened her eyes and screamed.

What came leaping and bounding out of the cave to race and tumble down the steep and uneven side of the cliff were not human.

They were Che De Naw braves, yes, but they ran on all fours. Cloaked with wolf pelts. Snapping. Growling. Howling. Slavering.

The Sonic Disruptors had no effect on them.

They crashed into the De-Xian like an avalanche.

Eyes were gouged out with clawed fingers.

Throats were torn open with bare teeth.

Aldhyrwoode was still staring after them. What... What are those... things?

Those, smirked Ulveus, are Moqwaio.

Lycanthropes?

Ulveus shrugged. The Che De Naw call them Skinwalkers.

Na! Our Disruptors cannot stop them!

Increase the frequency!

Na! How high?

Shoot to kill!

The great golden dragon came out of nowhere. Sweeping the beach. The Skinwalkers erupted into flames. Others appeared to collapse within themselves, as if turned inside-out, to collapse in visceral piles of bone fragments and intestines, blood-splatter and liquefied brains.

Eav was wide awake. Shadow-cat!

Here! Called Shadow. And she and Colm clambered onto the ledge.

Eav!

Colm!

Master! Your staff!

Shadow threw it.

Aldhyrwoode caught it.

He was himself again.

Ulveus saw it.

Give me the child, snapped Aldhyrwoode. You are running out of time, Felix.

The Snow Bear looked from Aldhyrwoode to Eav, from Eav to Shadow, and then from Shadow to the enormous golden wings spread out behind her - As the Empress Xer Xia rose to hover, malevolently.

Spitting on the ground at Aldhyrwoode's feet, Ulveus sprinted for the edge of the precipice.

No one saw him fall.

His body was never found.

It was a dark and stormy night, lit only by intermittent flashes of blue-white lightning and their reflection against the sea's writhing surface. Had the wind not been so strenuous the water would have been a perfectly glossed mirror of blues and greens, marred only by the occasional patch of floating wreckage and the rippling wake of a ship with a black flag. As it was, those details were lost in the blurred edges of the driving rain. Furious waves pounded what remained of the Merry Blue, seemingly angry that the majority of the vessel had already sunk and was even now descending ponderously towards the sea floor. The storm seemed determined to punish every piece of flotsam left of the ship, heedless of the child clinging to a barrel's top and the sailors' desperate attempts to grasp something, anything, that might help them float.

The child seemed oblivious, rain and tears streaking down its face indiscriminately as it peered in the approximate direction of the Storm's Wrath. If the child had been less shellshocked it might have found irony in the name. As it was, it only knew that its home was sailing away.

It heard the cries of drowning men as they fought for the few pieces of flotsam large and buoyant enough to offer some hope of survival and shied away from them, glad that the angry men were too far away to pose a threat. The child had been jettisoned after the battle, tossed overboard just far enough for safety but close enough to hear the souls it had condemned.

Why, why had it told the captain what it saw from the rigging? It knew what the crew were about, knew that they were starving for blood and riches. They hadn't had prey in weeks-- of course they wouldn't care about the risks of the approaching storm.

The child pressed its face into the rough wet grain of its barrel, heedless of the splinters and small cuts that had already started smarting in the brine. Closing its eyes, it tried to block out the memories. It still cowered from the shouting among the tall men as they stomped around on deck, felt the phantom of the captain's blood painting its face, heard the chaos as half protested the violence and the others clamored for more.

It had thrown itself over the captain, trying to wake him up, small hands slipping in blood and the storm's first spits of rain. Until that point the child had lived five, maybe six years-- death was something whispered about but never confirmed. It had asked a crew member, a large, nice man who sometimes bought it sweets, and he said death was just a different kind of sleeping.

But the captain didn't wake up. And the child, shaking with anger and grief and confusion, had thrown itself at the murderer.

Now the child clutched the barrel tighter, closed its eyes, and waited for that different kind of sleep.

‘God is good’, we blithely proclaim. ‘Goodness’ is a quality that many of us - certainly if we are theists - automatically associate with the supreme being. And most people, whether or not they believe in His existence, probably assume that the word ‘god’ is, indeed, related etymologically to the word ‘good’. But is this really the case?

The answer is a very simple No.

My Collins English dictionary reveals that the English noun for the (or a) deity goes back to Old English god, which is related to the Old Norse goth, and Old High German got. By contrast, the English adjective good goes back to Old English gōd, related to Old Norse gōthr and Old High German guot. As you can see, the long vowel preserved in the modern English adjective was there from the beginning. The words - and the underlying concepts behind them - were always linguistically distinct.

Moral goodness is not something that the Greeks and Romans, or other ancient cultures, automatically attached to their gods. The Olympian gods (by way of example) were a capricious, jealous bunch, consumed and riven by petty differences, constantly scheming against one another, with their human worshippers on earth below forever used as proxies and pawns in their intrigues. They were gods made in our image - very much the opposite of what the Book of Genesis asserts when it claims that humans were made in the divine image.

The gods of the Canaanites and other Ancient Near Eastern cultures that YHWH opposes in the Hebrew Scriptures are depicted in even more despicable terms than the gods of Olympus. The greatest condemnation is reserved for the Canaanite god Moloch, whose worshippers indulge in child sacrifice. In no sense would we regard such deities as ‘good.’

But in the 21st century we live in an age where the ‘goodness’ of any god is open to question. When we consider how religious belief has been used to justify some of the most heinous acts in human history, then it is no surprise that the casual and causal linkage between ‘God’ and ‘good’ is challenged. The late author and journalist Christopher Hitchens famously entitled his atheistic polemic, published in 2007, God is not Great - but he might just have easily entitled it God is not Good. The moral argument for the immorality of faith is increasingly heard these days: and when one hears the leader of the Russian Orthodox Church describe Vladimir Putin’s war of aggression in Ukraine as a ‘Holy War’, it’s not surprising that many almost want to puke at the very suggestion that such an individual can truly be a man of God. For if he is - then what kind of God would use him as (one) of his servants and instruments upon earth? Hardly a ‘good’ God.

Of course, Christians and other people of faith would wish to remind their critics of the inherent goodness displayed by many of their most cherished leaders, and certainly the founders of their faiths. They would also point out that the greatest depths of human depravity and wickedness were probably plumbed by individuals who lacked any sense of understanding or being answerable to an all-loving, all-wise, all-knowing God. And as a person of faith myself, I wouldn’t disagree with that assessment.

But - ‘good God’ - all I’m saying is…

‘It ain’t necessarily so.’

Choose your words as wisely as your gods.

It’s really rather simple -

A purple-headed pimple

Arose upon my face;

And feeling rather cross

With my beauty at a loss,

I asked my son to place

His finger and his thumb

On either side. Feeling numb,

As he pokes and peeks

At my deeply-reddened cheek,

I wince, and I beg:

’Don’t squeeze it, like some egg,

Or else…’

Splat.

So - That’s it.

The popping of my zit.

It was a dark and stormy night when the lights went out. Lightning lit the room brighter than it had been all night. Believing someone had turned on the lights, they turned their heads to catch the culprit, only to lose sight of things as the night returned. Rubbing her eyes to determine whether they were still open, her hands immediately rushed to cradle her as the window blew in from behind her. Amidst howling wind and thunder, somebody resort to releasing a scream, imploring as to how everybody else stood in this situation. Unanswered, deserted with only the sounds of the creaking floorboards beneath them, it wasn't until the tremor began to approach that they realized something was wrong. But by then, the air had turned salty, and it was too late. She realized she had lost all feeling, her body so cold that the wind ceased to creep up down her spine. Blind, deaf, and senseless, she succumbed, knocked to her knees. Her hands still cradling her, she wondered whether they might miss her in the dark--or worse, trip over her. Suddenly, time and space tripped...a hand clenched her shoulder--she screamed. Hoping to catch her assailant, she dared open her eyes and found the room lit brighter than it had been all night. A switch had been flipped…her giggling friends now no longer what they once were, she left them hanging the next morning.

IT WAS A DARK AND STORMY NIGHT...

BUT OTHER THAN SOME CLAPS OF THUNDER, IT WAS THE FURTHEST THING FROM MY MIND.

IN THE MORNING I START A WHOLE NEW EXCITING CHAPTER OF MY LIFE.

AT 8:00 AM TOMORROW, MY BOYFRIEND AND I PICK UP THE KEYS TO OUR NEW APARTMENT. WE HAVE BEEN DREAMING ABOUT IT FOR YEARS AND HAVE BOTH BEEN WORKING OUT THE DETAILS FOR MONTHS.

WE HAVE ALREADY BOUGHT A KING SIZE BED, A 60 INCH TV, AND MOST OF ALL, TO BOTH OF US, WE ADOPTED A GOLDEN LAB PUPPY.

BUT TONIGHT, IT IS REALLY HITTING ME THAT THIS DARK AND STORMY NIGHT IS THE LAST TIME I WILL BE IN MY BED, MY BEDROOM, AND THE HOME I HAVE KNOWN ALL MY LIFE.