One by one the lights of the city block winked out, the dark coming ever closer.
October 30, 2020
The official word was that the US government was putting in measures to ensure that citizens received protection from energy supply interruptions. However, according to Eddie Rainden, who is the VP of grid integration at NESS (National Energy Supply & Solutions), the government has some power plants that are purposefully generating the power outages. Rainden theorizes that this is another power move, an attempt to “control the masses” and reduce “voter turnout.” What says you, dear reader? Is our government literally trying to keep us in the dark? Let us know in the comments below!
Does the fact that the nationwide power outages, which are ongoing, started merely days from the Presidential election seem coincidental to you or do you think this was a strategic move?
Photo by Aleksandar Pasaric on Pexels.com
I keep having the same nightmare. Well really variations on a theme. I’m lost/ searching for something/ trying to help someone. But I am always in this same apartment complex. Hundreds of apartments, dozens of floors! My time is limited and there is no working elevator. The apartments aren’t even clearly numbered. It is an exhausting, frustrating dream. I never do find my way or what or who I’m looking for. Someone, please, wake me up!
She had long suspected that love wasn’t in the cards for her. She had even begun to accept her solitary lot in life. Now she had confirmation via a Tarot card reading by a trusted and respected friend.
“Well, this is just the icing on the cake.” she thought. It was just what she needed and she vowed to put thoughts of romantic love behind her and focus on other happinesses.
One could still have dreams.
One could still have passions.
“..and I still have love in my life, don’t I?” she softly asked the purring cat in her arms.
Who are you?,” you asked softly
Coaxing my answer with the whisper of your touch
“What makes you, you?,” you pleaded
Gently caressing my cheek with the back of two fingers
Peeling back my layers to get to my innermost truth
“I’m only beginning to understand myself.” I replied.
Sprinkling barely there kisses on my eyelids and forehead
Melting my resolve, crumbling my hard earned walls
“What is it you want to know?” I sighed.
Are you awake??
Have anything to say?
Have anything worth sharing?
Have anything you hold near and/or dear to you?
Why are you
Living a generic life?
Marinating in mediocrity?
Determined to be distant?
Are you asleep??
Are you lost ?
Wake up before you float away into nothingness.
Untouched books crowded his shelves, shiny leather spines and faded first editions, meticulously dusted and never read. A man in his position had to keep up appearances. He truly wanted people to think as highly of him as he did of himself. The bookcases made a fabulous backdrop for his picture to be taken for dust jackets and interviews. People expected him to be well read and he had, on more than one occasion, stated that he was indeed a voracious reader. In truth, he was a reader that never cracked a book other than his own. He needed to be able to answer questions regarding his work after all.
Yes, he was a writer that didn’t write. He was regarded as a prolific writer though after the fame and acclaim of his first novel he had delegated. He didn’t have the time or inclination for the tedious process of writing; though he surely had the talent if need be, but he had people for that. His time was better spent being seen, being heard, being well thought of and sought after.
The people of Gillyhead were a kind and hospitable folk, yet they lived in fear.
They decided to take turns acting as lookout. One villager would take up their place each night, in the crosswalk near the pub, so that ample warning could be given. When the signal was given the villagers would quickly whelve a tankard or goblet over any lit candle to try and avoid playing unsuspecting host to an uninvited guest.
Alfie, you see, was a fine fellow. It just so happened, they discovered, that after he imbibed in many an ale at the pub he considered himself a superb singer and as such he felt it an act of generosity to serenade the other patrons there. An act that caused many a raised eyebrow to be certain; one bloke described his signing as a toddler playing bagpipes while another said it was what they imagined the first person to stick their hand in a fire sounded like. But what happens at the pub can be tolerated, laughed over and forgiven. But the rub was that Alfie didn’t know when to stop.
He baltered from the pub, crooning and warbling through the village stopping at any house along his way home that happened to have a light burning.
Jaime spent the whole day browsing the antique store and left with just one thing. He didn’t intend to buy anything really; he was just passing away a few of the dull hours that always seem to make up his days lately. He’d been isolating himself even before social distancing was a thing and despite himself he just wanted to be in the vicinity of other people. He walked the aisles, scanning for something, anything to catch his eye.
He looked at antique furniture, oil lamps and the like but he had no place for them as beautiful and interesting as they were. If things were different, if he had money and a nice house of his own maybe he would invest in nice things that he actually liked as opposed to whatever was least expensive and wouldn’t be missed if he had to leave it behind. He wandered over to the thrift store side of things and poked about; picking things up at random and putting them back down. He had no need for a salad spinner or a chipped coffee mug even if it did say, “Introverts Unite, Separately.”
He watched the people come and go and wondered if they were really even there at all. It as a valid question as his mind did have a habit of playing tricks on him. At least that’s what he told himself and anyone else who was listening. That was much easier to accept than the truth. No one wanted to believe that the actual problem was that Jaime couldn’t tell if the person he was seeing was “real” or a ghost. He had a hard time distinguishing between the two. Or maybe they weren’t ghosts at all, maybe they were real… just running in parallel and he could somehow see both time lines. “6 of 1, half a dozen of the other,” thought Jaime. “Crazy is as crazy does.”
He had to focus to keep his thoughts from spinning out of control. So when he spotted the old man, shoulders hunched, shuffling toward the back of the store he decided to observe him and shut everything else out. He watched as the old man took off his jacket and placed it onto the dirty floor before slowly lowering himself down onto it. The man sat methodically flipping through the boxes of records stored there only occasionally pausing to give one a more in depth look. Jaime wonder what it was that caught his eye, what made him turn one over to read the back when others didn’t. Or was he looking for something in particular?
Jaime watched as the man went through one box after another until after quite some time had passed the man selected one record, sat it aside and then carefully and with much effort, pulled himself up off the floor. Jaime then watched in disbelief as the old man left without purchasing the record…why spend all that time and then leave empty handed? His curiosity piqued, Jaime went to see what record the old man had selected after hours of searching to only leave it behind.
He picked it up and couldn’t believe his eyes. Was this a joke? Some message from beyond? What did it mean? With his mind reeling Jaime made his way to the register and made his one and only purchase.