The Day After Impossible

A parable inside the unknown surrounded by accepted reality (Or … what happens next is up to you)!

wpid-04aff97b6b3444a0f72e281617759de1.jpg

“Hey! What’s that you’re holding in your hands? I can see light streaming between your closed fingers.”

“Oh you mean this,” the young lady responded.  She spread open her hands into a cupped position revealing a swirling glowing orb nestled in her brightly lit palms.

“It’s tomorrow,”  she said. “Well, sort of. Actually I’m holding time itself. Okay, to be absolutely precise you can view this as the energy of time. Like a miniature version of our solar system.”

“Oh don’t be ridiculous,” he responded. “Are you insane, you can’t hold tomorrow. It’s not a thing. That makes no sense, besides it hasn’t happened yet and you certainly can’t hold time either because it’s not a thing either so it’s … it’s … well it’s impossible.”

“How do you know it’s impossible?” The woman countered with a grin. The glowing orb seemed to swirl and shine more intensely while she spoke.

“Because it absolutely is. Some things you just know.” This he stated in a dismissive matter-of-fact manner.

“It’s obvious.” He added, even as he remained mezmerized with her current evidence to the contrary. He continued to watch the glowing orb and a small doubt began to worm its way into his brain’s clearly limited thinking capacity.

“Alright then, my good fellow,” said the lady holding the orb. “If you truly believe it’s impossible then you won’t mind if I drop this ‘orb of tomorrow’ on the ground so that it shatters?” She began to open her fingers.

“WAIT!” The man quickly thrust his hands out and up indicating she should stop. “Not saying I believe you, but if what you say is true why would you do that?”

“Why, to prove my point of course!” She stated, paused in her actions as if to consciously deliberate his words in her clearly more developed and open mind.

“Then what happens if there’s no tomorrow?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never dropped it before.”

“But if what you say is true, tomorrow won’t come!” His anxiety was mounting.

“Nah. According to you that would be impossible … right?” She smiled a confident little smile and let the brightly lit orb drop to the ground.

Nothing appeared to happen, as the ‘orb of tomorrow’ shattered into a multitude of sparkling pieces.

“What does this mean? Nothing happened.” His heart beating rapidly, the man surveyed the various pieces of orb laying all around.

“Well, not that we can see … at least so far,” came her ambiguous answer. She bent over and carefully picked up pieces and shards of broken orb placing them into the various pockets on her jacket. She paused then with a look of concentration on her face.

“Although we can’t really see frequencies.” Her brow was furrowed deep in thought. “But we can feel them. Frequencies of good feelings and bad feelings that will shape our thoughts and actions. So, I guess maybe we’ll be able to sense any changes that happen.”

“Yeah, sure. Fine. Whatever!” He said dismissively. “But what about tomorrow. Is it going to come or what?”

“I don’t know, I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

“I don’t get it. What was the point?”

“Point? Oh, right. I’m thinking the point was we have more control over what happens in our everyday lives than we think we do … if we act on them.”

“Okay, I guess I sort of understand that.”

“Good.” She began to leave.

He continued on. “… but what about tomorrow?”

“I guess we have to wait and see, unless you’d like to give today a try. We can test my ‘orb of today’ if you like.” She turned back towards him holding out a new glowing orb in her hands.

.

We, each one of us, do hold the reality of our future (today and tomorrow) in our hands. We should never doubt it, not for a single nano-second. Things may be happening all around us but we still have the ability to respond with how we’re going to react.  What we do with our reactions … that’s still up to each of us, isn’t it?

Hope your week is going well. As well as may be expected anyway, my friends.

Take care of you,

With much open and unconditional love,

~ Penny

Be Your Own Kind of Bravery

Fortune Favors the Brave

Gypsy tent and wagonThe gypsy fortune teller was very wise and wizened with great age. During this time of her current existence, she had told thousands of fortunes. Whispered and suggested mysterious and wonderful futures to a myriad of people. A great multitude of fools made her wealthy, as had the ambitious, vain, and greedy.

Of the down-trodden, the gentle, the forgotten, she had asked but a small token and then done her best to inspire; peering deep inside to witness their futures. Her “gift” – one not welcomed but accepted. On and on went her memories of those who sat across from her waiting breathless with anticipation for words pronouncing their fortune.

But before today, never had she viewed a woman of such gentle bravery, radiating from her being. Her soul – if you will. Her bravery shining piercingly through the air, hovering protectively as it spread out in progressive waves encompassing all.

A second glance within and the fortune teller finally understood. SHE had returned.

The fortune teller smiled a small, happy smile of relief. Holding out her hand in friendship, “hello my brave Sophia*, we meet again.” Fortune does favor the brave!

again and again

she comes forth to be heard

listen close my humans

~

“all life has purpose”

do you hear Sophia’s* words

echo through the ages

~

*Sophia, the Greek Goddess of Wisdom

And remember, small braveries are as valuable as big ones. Often more important too.

Have a great week ahead.

With sincere affection,

~ Penny

The Lesson of The Color Yellow … Friday Fictioneers

A big shout out to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields and Friday Fictioneers. An outstanding place for authors to finesse their writing style each week by writing a flash fiction (100 words or less) or short story based on a photo prompt. For more info on how you can be a part of this fun loving group of writers or to just sample their creativity, click HERE!

My entry:

PHOTO PROMPT © The Reclining Gentleman

PHOTO PROMPT © The Reclining Gentleman

The crowd was spellbound.

“It’s not just about the color yellow,” she said pausing for affect. “Although if one thinks about it yellow’s a most exceptional color. After all the sun shines yellow, the moon at its brightest is a rich golden yellow and we mustn’t forget glorious spring daffodils. Yes, yellow a truly fulfilling aspect of color.”

The shining vision of loveliness continued. “You see it’s not only about color in one’s life. It’s about the absence of it and most definitely one color should never be sufficient.”

Then with a mighty sweep of her wings the angel vanished from view.

*

Thanks for stopping by, I hope you enjoyed my words. Have a wonderful rest of your week and weekend to come, rich with colors of every kind!

With sincere affection

~ Penny

Sunday Photo Fiction – The Language of the Birds

 

This week’s Sunday Photo Fiction challenge is a sweet photo of a mother and her ducklings (Thanks Al), my offering follows. For more information about either participating or reading other writers entries click here.

141 01 January 31st 2016

photo copyright Alastair Forbes, 2016

The Language of the Birds

As I walk along the water, mind in a meditative state,  I feel most peaceful viewing the sweet scenic image of a mother duck keeping cautious eye on her brood of ducklings paddling nearby in the fresh water pond.  Colorful array of small fish and pebbles just beneath the shallow rippling waters create a pleasant visual sensation of harmony and tranquility, life and renewal.

I admit to being moved by this comforting view of reality, even with the realization of  knowing that we all live in a consciousness hologram, set in linear time for the experience and subsequent recording of related emotions.  Such is the nature of the great human ‘bio-genetic Earth experiment’ of which I was, until recently an unknowing participant.

Of course now that I am aware, the worldwide pattern recognition reoccurring in all areas of life seem obvious to me. Layers of past, present and future (“the all-time” as I like to think of it) linking together as one.  I hope my human experiences are therefore not compromised (as a result of this knowledge) in my memory banks.

However I find it most synchronous, even intriguing  to be strolling past this pastoral scene of life and birds, whilst also finding myself in the middle of deciphering a mystical and mysterious book “The Language of the Birds”. An ancient manuscript purported to be about our true human beginnings, mailed to me by an anonymous source. Clearly the language the ducks are speaking here is not of what the book is referencing … but then again, perhaps …

***

Thanks for stopping by, hoping the remainder of your week is a positive and creative one.

With affection,

~ Penny

 

 

A Warmth Against Her Skin – Sunday Photo Fiction

Hi Al and thank you for providing this wonderful weekly writers challenge (200 words or less) based on a photo. I love your city photo below, beautiful! For more information on how to enter Sunday Photo Fiction’s writers challenge (or to sample the other authors creative work) click here

My offering follows:

140 01 January 24th 2016

Photo Credit and copyright Alastair Forbes 2016

A Warmth Against Her Skin

Walking briskly along the street, she listened to early morning sounds of the waking city. Although warmly dressed, chilly air still managed to permeate the several layers of thick winter clothing. She hugged herself feeling an intense need for warmth against her skin.

Continuing her morning walk, she passed street vendors, inhaling the enticing aromas of breakfast fare being served to waiting customers. Recognizing her, a few vendors waved hello, welcoming smiles spread upon their friendly faces.

“Nancy,” one of the vendors called, volume of his voice raised so she’d be sure to hear him. “How about a hot cup of coffee and pastry to warm you up this morning? And say …” he added, noticing she was alone, “where’s your walking companion today?”

She shook her head, smiling a sad little smile back, hugging herself even more fiercely against the cold.

“I’m solo now,” She responded, an involuntary shiver to her movements, realization finally setting in that it wasn’t warmth against her skin that was missing, it was a warmth so desperately needed to stop the cold dark emptiness pouring out of her broken heart.

*

Thank you for stopping by, I hope your week is a great one filled to overflowing with warmth – in both your heart and your life!

With much affection,

~ Penny

She Plays So Well – Friday Fictioneers

A new week brings a new “flash fiction” writers challenge from Friday Fictioneers. Thank you to the always gracious and talented, Rochelle. To be a part of this wonderful writers weekly challenge or read some of the awesome other entries click HERE!

My entry (for those who follow my blog) is unlike those I generally write which tends to be positive, loving and upbeat. Still I hope all you creative types out there enjoy this very temporary change of pace from me:

PHOTO PROMPT © Jan W. Fields

She Plays So Well

“She plays so well,” he thought with undying admiration.

A virtuoso, her long slender fingers drifting delicately over keys with expertise rarely seen. He was only one of many applauding her amazing performance, but he was the lucky one asked to attend her in her dressing room after.

Happily sharing his love fully and completely, too late realizing he was also the one selected to replace depleted creative energy, he felt her demonic fingers drifting delicately over his body draining him of life.

“Ah, but she plays so well,” he thought even as his beating heart stopped in dying admiration.

*

Thanks for your visit, I hope you enjoyed this playful rendition of life not going the way you thought it should. A good idea to remember sometimes things aren’t what they seem.

Have a great rest of the week and weekend to come. May your days be filled with only good and positive things!

With much affection,

~ Penny

Sunday Photo Fiction – A Beaker of Magic Passion!

Too too long since I have written flash fiction for Al’s wonderful Sunday Photo Fiction, click here for more information on how to enter your own short short story based on the photo (around 200 words) or to read some of the other delightful entries. Thanks Al.

To me the object in the photo looked like a beaker, the lights at the bottom a little bit like magic, so I wrote accordingly:

137 01 January 3rd 2016

Copyright Al Forbes

A Beaker of Magic Passion

“As you can see,” she whispered seductively, “I hold in my hand a beaker of passionate magic. It is up to you to decide what’s to be done with it.”

He scoffed. “More likely a beaker filled with your overactive imagination.”

“Perhaps, as you say, it is a beaker of imagination. Yet I have found imagination to be closely related to the nature of passions in one’s life!” She responded with a sweet smile.

“You speak nonsense.” He said.

The smile remained on her face although there was a strained quality to it. “It is nonsense only in this reality that you currently endorse as your life. But there are many realities and in mine, the beaker I have is filled with passionate magic. What do you wish me to do with it?”

His caustic laughter most unpleasant and dismissive with intent. “Do with it as you wish, my love. As you wish. I care not for your silliness. I shall go about my day doing precisely as I desire – without need for any mythological magic.”

Removing the stopper from it’s container, her smile became sad as she spoke. “I will do as you have requested. I wish for my own passionate love of you to be transferred to someone who loves and respects me believing that all things are possible if you believe they are.”

A moment later she vanished. He never saw her again, but over the years in his loneliness he often thought he could hear her gentle happy laughter echoing in the reality of the empty chambers of his heart.

But of course he knew it was only his imagination!

*

Thanks for stopping by, hope you enjoyed. Have an excellent new week ahead.

With affection,

~ Penny