As the big engines of death power up to doom us all, or at least make a fast buck out of it, here are some stories to keep us going...
Image by garageband from Pixabay
And so it goes
“I could have been anything but I ended up a beggar,” said the beggar trying to touch his toes between the gaps of all he was.
The secret agent who was hiding and recording everything in his notebook was trying hard to hold back a sneeze which would be catastrophic in the cupboard he was in; but it wouldn’t stay in and came out twice as loud for being held in. The sneeze boomed and rattled the doors and made the window fly open.
“Who’s there?” said the beggar suddenly alarmed.
“No one,” said the secret agent in his most no one voice.
“Oh,” said the beggar suspiciously.
In the silence that followed two pairs of ears listened to see if anything more could be heard, but the more they listened the quieter it became until the secret agent could stand it no longer.
Bursting out of the cupboard the secret agent frightened the beggar so much he ran away to escape and look for another deserted house to live in, and of course checked out all the cupboards to make sure they were empty.
After the footfalls of the running beggar had gone and all was normal again the secret agent climbed back in his cupboard and closed the doors, picked up his notebook and wrote it all down.
Image by Felix Mittermeier from Pixabay
Drive it like you stole it
It was ten past seven when they found the bus: bright red it was, and gleaming, with the engine running and no one in sight.
See-through Mary took one look at it and fell in love, and that was it, she had to have it.
“Come on lads,” she said and dashed to the driver’s door and climbed in. Slamming the door and putting it in gear she released the hand brake and the bus began to move forwards.
In no time at all that seemed like a hundred years the bus was roaring along the road back to the waiting company. The time was seven fifteen.
Upstairs and fast asleep were two stowaways now along for the ride.
Image by Clker-Free-Vector-Images from Pixabay
Who needs a radio
It was a great big beautiful beast and it sang to her as they pounded along the road but without a radio it could have become tedious eventually; but who needs a radio on a singing bus?
See-through Mary sang along with it and after picking up the rest of the company and all their stuff carried on south with the bus swaying with all the singing coming from inside.
Image by Barrie Taylor from Pixabay
Saturday
The day after tomorrow came when I wasn’t looking and made me think I’d missed a day somehow, but on reflection I think it must have been the fairies who’d taken the day and left me with tomorrow instead.
Anyway, I took an hour to think about this and came to the conclusion the fairies had a lot to answer for and should be put to question so I determined to do just that, go get an answer that is, and also see if I could get my lost day back.
It’s not an easy thing finding fairies because they know you’re coming and can blink in and out of reality right quick.
There were lots of clues of course but they all led nowhere or into places I didn’t want to venture. I knew that eventually I’d find one, my mind was made up to do just that, but after a few hours of misdirection and almost catching glimpses out of the corner of my eye I was about to give up looking when 11.11 began blinking at me from out of a blank wall where no wall had been before and it gained my attention.
Most strange I thought as I went towards it, but on reaching out to touch it I felt a tingling in my fingers and then a flash as an electric shock flung me away into a huge whirling wind that sucked me in and my senses left me and I knew no more. “Damn the fairies,” was my last fading thought.
Sunday
When I woke up it was Sunday, or so my intuition said and I was lying beside a weed infested road with the sun shining hot overhead.
When I stood up to get my bearings all I could see was the greenery of wildness, so I sat back down to wait for something to happen and my hand happened to fall on a book half buried in the dust, so I picked it up and started reading it.
Image by Gisela Merkuur from Pixabay
Monday
It’s funny how we measure everything by our senses and yet quantum physics says that nothing is real and all we perceive is an illusion made up of energy and that by manipulating the energy we create our reality; but what creates the thoughts, where do they come from, and what is it that can change the thoughts to suit?
I could see it was going to be some kind of mustard Monday under the huge sky with far too many questions.
What is reality? Is it the norm, or is it the real? What is real? If all I can perceive with my senses is unreal then all I perceive is a dream and I’m dreaming it, and if I’m dreaming it then I should be able to dream something else.
But if I’m whirling about in the dream and all I know is the dream, where is the point I can come to, to have control of it and be able to change it?
Am I but a part of the dream that something else is dreaming? If so then perhaps I have little or no control of the dream.
But if I’m an intrinsic part of it, and not separate and I can wake up to this knowing then perhaps I can understand what I am and where I came from and what one day I will go back to. If I can get in touch with what is real the answers might become clear and I might understand something, perhaps fill in the missing link of a connection that could have profound effects for me.
All things are connected in some way and quantum mechanics has proven this to be so but quite how or by what has yet to be known and perhaps science like religion can only ever theorise what it is that connects all things.
It is possible that the mind can only go so far and that when it comes right down to it that connection can only be known as a feeling for no instrument can measure it, it can only be felt.
Which means that quantum physics will in the end fall short and become like a dog chasing its own tail or a snake swallowing itself and one day quantum metaphysics may fall through the smallest particle into the outside of the universe and come full circle upon itself to begin again all over to discover what it is that is real and what we are all made of.
Everything is governed by an unseen hand that keeps everything in place and allows order to be predominant even in the chaos.
If light was not set at 186 million miles an hour then it would be instantly everywhere and there would be no dark, no contrast, and time would no longer be relevant, and without the density and spinning of the planets there would be no gravity and therefore no life.
So something is keeping the order of all existence and is everywhere.
Before time began things happened quite naturally but afterwards people have been trying to fit everything into the hours and minutes of their cave dwelling minds and making a right mess of it all to the extent we are all now faced with a man-made extinction level event that really should be addressed soon by the ones who caused it or the end may come sooner than predicted.
But the ones who caused it are caught up in greed and corruption to the extent they’ll do and say anything to maintain what they have and the getting of more and are so entrenched in their systems that only an extinction level catastrophe can get rid of them, but then probably when we all go down screaming they’ll be in their bunkers laughing it up.
Why is all this happening, and how far will it go before it ends, and is there a way to stop it before it goes too far?
It’s highly likely that we’ve gone too far, and as a species we are on the way out and if we ever needed peace now is the time.
Why peace more than anything else? Because if enough of us find peace inside of ourselves we may decide not to go to war anymore and things would change for the better for all of us.
“Whoo,” said the ghost from the dungeon of doom and almost frightened me out of my skin so that I dropped the book.
“WTF,” I said, recoiling somewhat.
The ghost began a jig on the spot and my eyes opened a little wider in amazement. It was so incongruous to be watching a ghost dance it brought a smile to my face until the steam began to escape from between its voodoo lips.
Pretty soon it was all steamy like a hard fog and I couldn’t see hardly anything.
The sound of an engine from somewhere in the steam began to grow louder so I moved to the side of the road and waited to see what was coming.
From out of the bubbling steam a dark shape appeared, red, and roaring with what seemed to be a teenage girl at the wheel. It was the number 57 bus so I stuck my thumb out and it stopped for me.
The girl put her head out of the window.
“Where you going?” she asked.
“Anywhere,” I replied.
“Well hop aboard then,” she said and revved the engine.
So I hopped on the bus with nothing to take with me but the clothes I was wearing, I’d left all my stone tablets that I’d been carving outside the cave, they were too heavy to carry, and anyway, I was bored with them.
And then we were off. The lower deck was full so I climbed the stairs to the upper deck and found a seat in the corner and plonked myself down on it and looked around at the strangest bunch of characters come passengers you would never expect to find in one place.
Image by Melissa Angela Flor from Pixabay
Tuesday
An old love bite came today and left lipstick everywhere and the smell of perfume in the cave too where it made munchies and drank all my wine and was the last straw so I decided to leave the cave at long last and go down the mountain.
When I came back down from the top of the mountain I found the place had changed too much and I wondered if there was anything at all left for me to recognise, but the walls of my solitude only murmured their feelings at me and after a time of that I had to get away and so went for a walk where I was best served by the elegance of my own thoughts that were on a roll, and I let them for want of a quiet pair of slippers to gently slip away and be on my own.
“Extra, extra, ten percent,” said the wind over my shoulder pushing me on.
Image by smdesigns from Pixabay
Wednesday
The skinny feels of a lonely postcard fell at my feet and made me feel blue, so I bolted it to the tree over the fire and stared at it until the sun went down and the sky grew dark.
I knew it was there, not saying anything, with no hidden meanings or secret messages as I drifted off to sleep.
In the morning when I woke up it was still there and still silent so I resolved not to look at it or even think about it and went about the day trying to look normal.
Image by Stefan Keller from Pixabay
Thursday
I’m finally anonymous; no one knows my name anymore. Well then...
When the bucket of doom leaked fairies, messages came fast to say turn back now or else.
No, when the bucket of doom leaks fairies there’s nothing you can do but go to sleep and hope for a better day tomorrow.
Image by Jorge Guillen from Pixabay
Friday
Some kind of terrible fog had descended and made it slow going for the bus, things appeared out of the fog and had to be driven around, and some things were driven right over and made a crunching sound under the wheels.
See-through Mary was peering through the driver’s window as she drove the bus through the fog and hoping to find more fuel for the boilers as the coal supply was almost empty.
Suddenly, from out of the fog she saw an old man with a long white beard standing beside the road with his thumb out.
Pulling up beside him she opened the side window and stuck her head out.
“Where you going?” she asked.
“Anywhere,” he replied.
“Well hop aboard then,” she said and revved the engine as she waited for him to climb aboard.
And then they were off through the fog and heading south and as they advanced they saw tin men roaming the land and most strange it was to see this, almost Borg-like as they appeared in the distance walking their solitary paths as if searching for something.
Image by Dean Moriarty from Pixabay
End of part four
Images from Pixabay
