tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11756562998724345412024-03-13T04:03:36.955+00:00Ramblings and ThoughtsMy small blog with samples of writing and thoughts. Damian Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01891554964149213015noreply@blogger.comBlogger356125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1175656299872434541.post-52471292937114988342023-07-07T08:05:00.003+00:002023-07-07T08:05:40.836+00:00Who<p>If you could, should or would, please open your social media
account. Any will do. Have a quick look at your friends list, scroll down,
slowly, taking in all the faces and names. How many do you know, really know
or, in fact, ‘think’ that you know.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_SBrtcM4PIcHgS6HTnFQPRFFCm8lk8ukga5TwABrVttTWCMTguiq0VrtlIfOrRKthM61wofUTVlZCXSOIsKe9EQPk8IhQYFZSQ-mVLZfvZ6ZjgKG7eC_qCkinqgevFQVOTVAZTvsNSmX2vHXIEZoOitVu0-G-JxqfqU0Fs5VizW1OlTORh8uyx_bbow/s720/bigstock-Who-Are-You-31479143.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="720" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_SBrtcM4PIcHgS6HTnFQPRFFCm8lk8ukga5TwABrVttTWCMTguiq0VrtlIfOrRKthM61wofUTVlZCXSOIsKe9EQPk8IhQYFZSQ-mVLZfvZ6ZjgKG7eC_qCkinqgevFQVOTVAZTvsNSmX2vHXIEZoOitVu0-G-JxqfqU0Fs5VizW1OlTORh8uyx_bbow/s320/bigstock-Who-Are-You-31479143.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">The world isn’t simply black with the white appearing ever
so often, it’s multiple shades of so many colours and, as I’ve read, many other
colours that we might never, ever, realise. This, of course, is the same with
people. Take a selection of people, from that glorious list of names. Think of
them. Recall them. Smile, as you remember moments, words, within sections of
time. They’ve touched your emotions, they might have even held your hand or,
let you go. Overall, we probably all know many, many different individuals.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Alternatively, do we? There are people that I haven’t seen
or, even, spoken with in years. There’s many that I’ve never spoken with, which
of course, is a shame. I’m a friendly person, but am I?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You see, each person on your list of friends
sees you in a different light. They see you as a different person.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">You, yourself, the I, the I am, believes that you’re a
certain person. You might believe that you’re liked, loved, missed and never
forgotten. You could appreciate the energies that you expel and bring into your
world. You’re magnificent, you’re lost, you’re heartbroken, your emotions finally
finding the stability you desired for the longest of time. You are, just as you
are. The moment captured, immortalised, held within your consciousness. Hopefully,
you know who you are.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Your ego, amongst many other facets, believes that you are
the x and y of the world. Each friend, however, within your list, believes that
you are something else. Each person we know, or have known, has an impression
of ‘us’, within them. To one person, we’re the joker, the smiler, the miserable
heartbreaker, the complainer, the yo-yoing person, the idiot, the cheater, the
looser, the mischief maker and more. Those impressions, albeit often incorrect,
are held like a polaroid picture taken years previous. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Once again, it matters not if you’ve achieved, expanded your
knowledge, healed, or regretted and come to terms with previous malicious
actions. It’s not recalled that you’ve adapted, succeeded or, even, become a brand-new
person via adversity, trauma, pain and near life ending situations. You are, in
essence, many hundred plus individuals within one body.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Although the histories of life proclaim that we’re all
connected, all a central consciousness of abundance, we, instead, rely upon the
simple, easy, miss-informed logical sense that a person is whom you think they
are. Your Mother, your Sister, your partner and your neighbour, all see you as
a different individual, despite actually being one solo person. Someone can
form an opinion about you and, if they never ask, will keep that opinion
despite it being completely, unequally, untrue.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">How, upon any singular day, can someone, anyone, truly
comprehend the complexity of any individual? We view a person as a book, the
cover of colour and shallow substance, with the synopsis being all we need to define
and decide upon our evermore imagined impression. No matter the effort, the
delusion we decide to present to the world’s individuals, we will always be
seen as someone else, other than who we really are. It makes a mockery of any
attempt to seem nice, polite, or understanding, as there’s always the
possibility of being miss-understood and fractioned into many, many alternative
labels.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">At this point, you might be thinking, “Well, yes, that’s
pretty obvious!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’d be correct.
However, we seldom think such thoughts. We’re sometimes occupied, attempting to
be something that we’re not. We’re thinking, feeling, hurting, healing entities
wrapped within a suit of meat, water and space. The outside is, frankly, a
limited view of the universe with the inside, that glorious ball of energy
called a soul/consciousness, being everything. Sure, it’s lovely to have the
car, the house, the clothes and the importance of having a hundred people love
us to bits, but the real conclusion, the actual truth, would be that hardly
anyone thinks of us and if they do, their thoughts and impressions are more
than likely incorrect depending on time. Alternatively, they could see you for
exactly what you are.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The snapshots we take, the moments we make, when imagining
another, are incredibly limited. A life can be static one week and then, the
next, every single part of that life could change, forming a brand-new person. The
safest path within the world is staying the same. The same day, the same
routine, the same people, the same kisses and, the same harsh memories grinding
us to dust. Slowly. That, as we know, is also incredibly boring. Personally, the
only opinion that matters, when it concerns who ‘you’ are, is your own. You can
change, you can grow, you can learn, and you can become something… more, than
you are. I believe in all of you, in everyone. However, I also appreciate that
my belief means little to the many and something, to the few. Realistically,
we’re hardly thought of at all and even then, it’ll be the same picture formed
in time.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Upon a day, maybe ‘never’ ask another ‘who’ you are, as they
probably won’t know. If you, as an individual, cannot answer the question of
‘who’ you are, then heaven help you, if you consider the impressions and opinions
of another. After all, the only person that really, truly, knows you, is you, and
even then, many hardly ever even consider the very question of, “Who am I?”<o:p></o:p></p>Damian Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01891554964149213015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1175656299872434541.post-66390252819674448212023-05-30T15:01:00.020+00:002023-06-05T17:41:50.644+00:00Glass<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Upon a day, be it planned or not, each of us is born into
the world kicking, screaming, crying or in silence. We learn, we adapt, we
adopt the way of things and grow forward whilst spending so much time looking
back. We become something, the other, what we are, and can even envision what
we’ll be. We follow the trends, to be liked, to be seen, even though we will
always be individuals. We are often followers, that wish to be followed.</span><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimQ-DwHtLFHqpPhbjOG0bA9SE7xrbNzcNqYH_355er5_a14lAcgRw6BncsUPYiDEnVqOLa_sPVs338Sv8e9YxBCcqHllHpBmzm4JlP2Ba0QJ58L7t8FKpb8jn3LsPcuZ9ZevNJorT2t-4VjRcQij0f5umaIzw31iJb3klokI49Wj5oVd9LK9YfuOc/s329/Small.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="212" data-original-width="329" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimQ-DwHtLFHqpPhbjOG0bA9SE7xrbNzcNqYH_355er5_a14lAcgRw6BncsUPYiDEnVqOLa_sPVs338Sv8e9YxBCcqHllHpBmzm4JlP2Ba0QJ58L7t8FKpb8jn3LsPcuZ9ZevNJorT2t-4VjRcQij0f5umaIzw31iJb3klokI49Wj5oVd9LK9YfuOc/s320/Small.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Then, upon another day, we start to rise within the world.
We form pedestals to stand upon but in this case, I’d like to suggest that we
form glass platforms. Upon these
platforms of formed glass, we stand tall. We look acr<span style="font-family: inherit;">oss the w</span>orld, our world,
like bastions of pure invincibility and grandeur. We know all, we supposedly
see all, proud and stoic. We are, amongst many offered names, the wide-eyed,
mostly happy, beings of faith, hope, love and most certainly, ego.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Another platform forms, be it a new job, a new partner, a
new set of adventures and more. Whatever our egos decide to place value around,
we can stand upon. Fierce, fire filled eyes, the very energy within slashing
out into the void without a care in the world. We are, supposedly, everything.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Upon another day, something happens. The new relationship
fails, two egos clashing, unable to find a balance and the abundance faulters,
fails, and you’re cast aside. You fall. For the very first time, you fall so
very, very hard. The glass platform beneath your feet, the sturdy construction formed
from your egoic thoughts, feelings and soul enaction, cracks and splits. You
fall. You fail. You land upon the platform directly below. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">You clamber, you grasp, you grab at any platform that you
can find. Friends, family, social media, as the moments within your mind
threaten to break the very body that holds you so close within. You,
eventually, find the platform that you desire, a place that feeds you, the ego
energised once again. Be it another individual, another lover, your pedestal of
glass confirmed, cemented, and anodised into your life. You save your ego, your
emotions and, thankfully, can ignore the thoughts that chip away at your stability.
You decide within, that you’d rather not face any of the consequences, actions
or circumstance. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">You’re stable, again. The cracks beneath your feet, ignored.
The trembling within your heart, pushed aside. The memories held within the
heart’s mind, ignored, despite the movies and plays repeating over and over
again. So much to say, so much left unsaid. It’s all okay, it’s all perfectly
fine, as you realise that if you smile long enough, you’ll believe all the lies
you tell yourself when the darkness caresses you at night.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Another day, upon another moment, your Mother, your Father,
your best friend, your loved acquaintance, leaves the world. The platform that
you find yourself standing upon, once again, cracks and you tumble. Finally,
truthfully, you reach the bottom of your world, and no further platforms support
you. Your head hits the dirt, the realism of life, as your hands bear the cuts
and bruises of your mind’s actions. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">You look above, you lift your head, to see further glass
bastions of hope, love and truth. You would reach, you would grasp, but deep
inside, you realise that none of them truly, honesty, afford you rescue from
the solitude you feel so very deep inside the depths of your very person. You
are, alone. You are, abandoned. You are, nothing but your very thoughts. No
action, no moment, can save you when the critically formed platforms of your
life descend, crack, and wither away to dust.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Darkness appears, as you close your eyes, whispering,
wishing, wondering, as you wipe away the tears from your outer skin. It’s only
you, just you, in the darkness. This, this place, is the most vulnerable,
lonely, vacant, exploratory space you can ever imagine. It’s real. It cannot be
ignored. It’s all you have. It’s all you’ve ever had and ignored. No school
teaches you of these moments. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">You breath in, holding the breath, exhaling ever so slowly
as you grasp the happenstance of the seconds. Yesterday haunts you, tomorrow is
but a thought, with ‘now’ being the very essence of your escape. Your fingers dig
into the dirt, as your senses smell the air around you. This is what you are,
in the dark, within the silence. You realise, suddenly, that the world outside
of you is but a mirror of your imagination. The platforms supporting you,
previously, were all based on false notions.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">You smile, you whisper further thoughts, as you attempt to
stand. You abandon your earthly body as you, instead, simply imagine your two
feet standing upon the world. You imagine the wealth, the very scale, of what
you’d like to accomplish, and at that moment, the remaining platforms descend
towards y<span style="font-family: inherit;">ou. Some crack. Some break. Some vanish.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Finally, you open your eyes. Around you are
frien</span>ds, remaining family, acquaintances, and so much valuable energy. You
embrace all of it and, at the same time, you let all of it go. You let it
escape the meanings that you’ve assigned. You are renewed. For a moment, your
ego asks you to step forward, to balance yourself upon a new platform of your
making but, instead, you smile another smile as you realise, as you finally
understand after so many years, that you simply no longer require any platforms
to stand upon. Especially, platforms made of glass.</span></span></p><o:p></o:p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIrrf_m2VzIebtJ_ok6Jc2tNU8-boQ1f1r47F1v_LijCaRrKDGDgtC4t40CWrowl_M8TXD_cqIAJPUFJpBUmzAKgbu1mhTibG5qsdJdZbz7i4bBfYjWxNzs791SCd1pj5bSyZyMRxNY5v2voeU65WaAF3nr_R2DMfU5KvQjRlamtgSQKJvsFLg4XI/s115/Listen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="109" data-original-width="115" height="109" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIrrf_m2VzIebtJ_ok6Jc2tNU8-boQ1f1r47F1v_LijCaRrKDGDgtC4t40CWrowl_M8TXD_cqIAJPUFJpBUmzAKgbu1mhTibG5qsdJdZbz7i4bBfYjWxNzs791SCd1pj5bSyZyMRxNY5v2voeU65WaAF3nr_R2DMfU5KvQjRlamtgSQKJvsFLg4XI/s1600/Listen.jpg" width="115" /></a><br /><a href="https://youtu.be/nqBV3Zdy-rU">Click HERE to Listen.</a></div><br />Damian Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01891554964149213015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1175656299872434541.post-28348611792224794212023-01-23T20:33:00.003+00:002023-01-23T20:58:30.484+00:00If<p style="text-align: center;">If... the ‘what would be’ of the world. The unknown, the
chance, the proposition of possibly something else. Do you, should you or,
even, could you? Take the leap, make the chance a realistic wish and then,
embrace whatever will be.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGErSdiq94-7f9lTFpmyGaoEdQ4KidBhGVSc3PsRrwJWQqU8x8RRgjMQ3lF0RoaYTV6Fvbs7NrIXo2VUS9FAkZ78AMmuxTLWk2lcv1fHiPykFEyUjTD_78ggieX2KyEh07DR0Ih5p2dUcOtlfzm_RZuBqYoKPFCtDqaeHoXEU7CSE57gQxbygUvOU/s540/dark-blue-evening-ipad-air.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="271" data-original-width="540" height="161" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGErSdiq94-7f9lTFpmyGaoEdQ4KidBhGVSc3PsRrwJWQqU8x8RRgjMQ3lF0RoaYTV6Fvbs7NrIXo2VUS9FAkZ78AMmuxTLWk2lcv1fHiPykFEyUjTD_78ggieX2KyEh07DR0Ih5p2dUcOtlfzm_RZuBqYoKPFCtDqaeHoXEU7CSE57gQxbygUvOU/s320/dark-blue-evening-ipad-air.jpg" width="320"></a></div><br><p style="text-align: center;">If... you decided to fall in love, with all the heart felt
embraces, promises and beautiful chemicals, would you be ready for months of
depression, solitude and weeks of self reflection if it fails? The fifty fifty
of life never believes the early promises of a person, with another hope filled
leap into the abyss.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">If... you or I made a promise, would either person stand by
that promise, through the thin, the very thick, along the ever changing 3d
world? A promise is a promise is but a promise. We shall say the words, speak
it, feel it, because then it’s real. Or is it?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">If... you fell upon hard times, would you reach out to me,
then remember how you treated others, my heart, your own feelings and more? The
karma afforded by life, might only be our own thoughts within the cold lonely
nights. The creature within is selfish but, upon a day, it can learn to be
more. To do more.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">If... you, I, we, allowed our ego to overwhelm and take the
staring role within our lives, what type of person would we be? Maybe it would
be too late, the implementation of such a state complete or, maybe, completely
removed from within.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">If... we built a home together, shared our dreams, communicated
as Kings and Queens of the state, would a foundation be built that could last
the tests of our time? We might hold childlike wounds within, allowing
corruption, doubt and pain to sever the connection, or become stronger before
the sun rises once again.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">If... we communicated, each step of the way, expanding
understanding, would that be an alien concept to two intelligent beings? The
dictionary has thousands of words and yet, one word to break, heal, harm or
help, all exist. Hardly ever spoken, never forgotten once it’s done, then
exclaimed by a wounded consciousness.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">If… one person found sustenance within the forms of change,
understanding and self-education, would the universe care, blink or even
notice? What would one person do, if they were dedicated to constantly
improving, resolving the within for an improved outside. Some people listen,
some people act but by then, by that point, the moment has moved away.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">If… you traversed a mountain path, found the soul you were
looking for, would you realise that it was within you all of this time? We
seek, we ponder amongst the world’s venues and yet, we can find peace,
prosperity, love, affection and warmth from one single source. Maybe it’s too
late, maybe fashion, status and pomp is all that’s worthwhile within a life.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">If… only if, we stop, stand still, close our eyes and inhale
with thought and exhale with emotion. To feel, to think, at the exact same time,
is but the magic of all ages or, do you believe in something else? Let’s
ponder, let’s resolve, let’s find a suitable middle ground and maybe, just for
a second maybe, we could all simply whisper… ‘if’.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><o:p>Partially written 06.12.2022. <br>Finished, today.</o:p></p>Damian Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01891554964149213015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1175656299872434541.post-35732920573095804322022-11-14T16:38:00.003+00:002022-11-14T23:01:06.453+00:00Queen<p style="text-align: justify;">At times, a man has to make changes. Maybe not a complete
radical change, but a change nonetheless. It could, despite what has just been
written, be a life-changing decision as long as it contains the fruits of
wealth, knowledge and wisdom. To an end will all things come. It’s what we do
before, or after reaching that end, that matters most. Either way, change will
come. The inevitability of life affords each of us multiple opportunities to do
so. We cannot ignore our chances.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuLzboJVMfXSfyPTcYN8nKsJe5jX2GnPHpGvS4e_TLjFnKacSw-uQn8BjyrG9DedohPvlqmR5CVUrCf4bsb9M3gLv8Y55VRcShh_Q5Am0piwgnncxuxBYIYMP8O12IizjiuU9-3V0OJLwT68513wzazcYXa18R1_PZqCVasEXXYc2_eReu84Oa21Q/s848/Screenshot%202022-11-14%20163650.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="848" data-original-width="788" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuLzboJVMfXSfyPTcYN8nKsJe5jX2GnPHpGvS4e_TLjFnKacSw-uQn8BjyrG9DedohPvlqmR5CVUrCf4bsb9M3gLv8Y55VRcShh_Q5Am0piwgnncxuxBYIYMP8O12IizjiuU9-3V0OJLwT68513wzazcYXa18R1_PZqCVasEXXYc2_eReu84Oa21Q/s320/Screenshot%202022-11-14%20163650.png" width="297"></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">A king should seek knowledge, but knowledge is nothing
without the wisdom to implement such information. You and I, or another, could be
a veritable encyclopaedia of information, with no actual intelligence to
implement the many ideas of wealth (Spiritual, emotional, financial or wisdom).
Then, there’s understanding. What is a man without such a moment? Absolutely
nothing. Understanding is, with many parts of life, a never-ending journey. You
can be wise, successful, wealthy, as well as unknowing, all at the exact same
time. It sounds odd, but a lack is just that.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Avoid the tyrannical moments, the incompetence, the silly notion
of being brave, a fool, or the narcissistic natures of men and women. Ignore
your naivety, your lust, as, instead, become the loved and benevolent king.
Suffer no fools and abandon the abandoners. Ignore the fake partners and seek
the one that you deserve. A king will only draw to him what he deserves, which
means to one and all, that his desires form his very person from bottom to top.
What a king thinks and feels, is what he will draw to him and be enacted by the
souls surrounding his very aura. If you feel lack, you will receive that lack.
If you feel that you will not be loved, then that is what you will become. Unloved.
If you do not ‘share’ love, attention and affection, then how can you receive?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Leadership, be that in your daily life, within the home, within
the workplace, is not sought by all individual men and yet, it is needed for
harmony. We can, of course, defer many decisions, but what is a king without
owning his very castle? A shadow of what he could and can be. Despite never being
voted into power, a king stands upon his created platform(s) and undertakes the
correct course of action, despite any fear or doubt. A decision is just that,
ready to be made. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Make a decision, be it
right or wrong, as a King can but try.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The king, centred, decisive, loyal to his subjects, stands
tall and grasps his duties with strength and passion. It is not enough to be
passive, to sit back, as the world never waits for such a man. Move forward,
forge plans, bring forward wealth and become majestic with the power within. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A man that does not make decisions when
counted upon, can never become a king. He will become indecisive, never
reaching the heights of the imposed leadership role. His subjects, adrift,
disenchanted, confused and more.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">A King lives with integrity, despite making mistakes, which
are understood, acknowledged and learned from. He protects his family, his
loved ones and friends, whilst presenting and strongly embracing order. The
creativity within him, flourishes and is held, enjoyed and loved by the people
around his person. Above all, he leaves a legacy that many remember, with
no-one forgetting his presence upon the day he no longer remains.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">For too long, men have stood upon their own two feet,
permitting their lives to move along within a passive nature. Decisions are to
be made. Changes to be implemented. Forward thinking and action being
undertaken upon each probable moment. Seize your power, embrace your
willingness to become more and, above all, make a decision and stick to it. Even
if it’s the wrong decision, it’s better to be made than regretted upon a later
date. Use the knowledge within you, embrace the wisdom of understanding and
enact the play created within your imaginational being.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">A king must live within a bountiful mindset, a wealth filled
form of thinking. Anything is possible, within reason. All adventures, to be
considered and possibly taken. The stories of old, understood and cast aside,
the old programs that have had their time within his mind, removed. A king
resolves his own issues, rises from any ashes created from his old personality
and remains strong. There can be weakness, there can be vulnerability, but
through suffering, wisdom and staying strong when everything falls around you, we
can forge a person from a shallow existence into a veritable king around mortal
man.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Upon a day, when each man stands tall, follows the correct
path and holds the hands of loved ones, each king will find their castle and
place the bricks upon the land. Upon that day, the queen and king will become
the strength to which all will behold. The five senses we hold close to us, are
not the source of any power or fortitude, as a man’s strength lies deep within
him. No man can stay the same, static, otherwise his life is thrown aside.
Those five senses often lie, the conscious mind making decisions that are
unjust, unfaithful and inappropriate.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Every king must imagine what he could be, before becoming what
he can be. Envision, dream, empower yourself and shift. Reality is ours to
control, before the dark and final curtain descends upon us. Above all, no
matter what a king understands, no matter the wisdom, the choices made, he’ll
be absolutely nothing, without a Queen that sits by his side. She will not use
lust against her king and he, at the same time, will keep his willingness in
check. She is his hidden strength, the order brought forward to quench his
inner chaos.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A king looks for one woman,
to be his shield, his strength upon the hard days and his peace when the weight
of the world presses against their lives. A worthy woman may never become a
queen until, upon a given day, she finds her king (King plus King, Queen plus
Queen or King and Queen. Love is… ). A king, above all else, even when the home
within which they rest burns around them, will protect his queen above all
else. This IS his duty. The children amongst them, his very breath, and without
them by his side, he can never be the king he swore he would be.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Such is the will of a king. He bears the burdens of life,
for himself and his family. He acquires wisdom from any wealth of teaching and
implements knowledge with vast understanding of that wisdom. He is decisive, speaks
the word and follows that word with action. Without action, a king is to
become nothing. All of this, everything, for his queen.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br></p>Damian Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01891554964149213015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1175656299872434541.post-81557939936114809582022-11-14T16:16:00.002+00:002022-11-17T22:10:10.467+00:00Experiment<p style="text-align: justify;">Day 01:</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Today, I decided to do something a little different. I know
who I am or, at least, I thought I did. Life has a way of creeping up on you
and, when you’re happy, it can kick you in the behind. Life can hurt. Life can
be amazing. Life is. That’s as simple as it can be explained. Which path, which
direction, which thought, will change a person forever. Are we happy, or are we
living a lie? One thing is for sure, we hardly ever fix ourselves. Just when
you think that you’re okay, there’s another layer to unravel. To expect
perfection from another person, let alone yourself, is idiocy running at
extreme levels.<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig3rvpeLaT61mG0bWySs66tB5_E_jwQMwFOWcGnCA0g2_aAjj3VK0Iu4bGiQMzodsESR8j1aasEYnovTCWXMwTnpgZnw3UqswqJv18vAuEFEI-UfSeToahZFG8a8-_sOYYgOjX6KavA8Op6WKUDH-scdveD0VjS_ws-hG4aPnbfIojoiJdf8x_q4k/s409/___________________________________Experiments.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="409" data-original-width="360" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig3rvpeLaT61mG0bWySs66tB5_E_jwQMwFOWcGnCA0g2_aAjj3VK0Iu4bGiQMzodsESR8j1aasEYnovTCWXMwTnpgZnw3UqswqJv18vAuEFEI-UfSeToahZFG8a8-_sOYYgOjX6KavA8Op6WKUDH-scdveD0VjS_ws-hG4aPnbfIojoiJdf8x_q4k/s320/___________________________________Experiments.png" width="282"></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I’m here, in this small little house. It’s basic, one single
room, with only the absolute essentials to keep me occupied. I’m not permitted
to leave this place, but the view from the large window, oh the view, is
something to behold. The world is full of beauty and yet, we often allow our
thoughts to create devastation to ourselves and others. Especially, the people
we purport to love.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">That’s why I’m here. No excuses. No lies. No alterations to
escape what needs to be done. It’s just me, my mind, my heart and anything in
between that they create.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I might even
find my very soul and hopefully, purpose.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Day 05:<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">So many people state that they’re lonely. You’re not alone,
truly alone, until it’s just you and you. Nothing else. No pets, kids,
partners, family or any other distraction we use to run away from ourselves.
I’m here. I cannot escape. I signed the page, and the waiver is astronomical. I
accepted this. I’m not climbing the walls, just yet, but I’m suffering. I’m
hurting. My mind. My thoughts. They’re hurtful, degrading, shameful expressions
of how I see myself. If you were here, you’d more than likely think the same
thoughts. We need to let go of the past moments. Every negative notion, word or
expression, is part of the old story. It’s done. You can hardly even prove that
the situations of old resided within a point of time. Outside of this room,
this sculpted hut, I cannot provide proof that the world exists. The supposed
3D, the sights we envision, the smells that we sense, the touch of fingers upon
skin, are they real? <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I want to leave, but I know that I should stay. This is an
experiment, but I really knew that it wasn’t. Too many excuses. Too many self
lies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t run from yourself, as you’re
all that you have. Be kind, be brave, wrap your own arms around your body and
tell yourself that it’s okay. It will all be okay.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Day 10:<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I’m… confused. My only companion, my singular friend, is the
person that lights the fire outside the cabin. I want her to speak to me, but
that’s against the rules. I haven’t spoken to a single soul, other than my own,
in ten days. Then, just then, maybe that’s not true. Maybe every singular
thought, tied to emotive energy, flows from me into the ether and strikes
against the soul of another. I cannot prove this. I do not know. Radio waves
fly through the skies. Bluetooth. Wireless. The proof is there but, hidden from
rational teachings. I want the world to mean more to me. I need something else
from the world. Wants, needs, are nothing when compared to desires.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I might be going a little crazy. Maybe we’re all crazy,
masquerading ourselves to the puppet master’s tune.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Conform. Wear the clothes we tell you to
wear, follow, be the same as everyone else. It’s all there in front of us. I’m
shaking my head. I’m not here to resolve society’s issues, as I’m here for me.
For once, just me, myself, the I within ‘I am’.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Day 15:<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Go deep. Even if you have to witness the darkest parts of
yourself. All the dank, desperate, despicable emotions buried within. Hold
them. Feel them. Let them escape. When you’re down at that level, as low as you
can be, you create new roots from whatever ashes you find. Maybe deep
depression is something that we all must suffer within our lives. It’s not
nice, it’s not poetic or something to shout about, but it’s there. Hold
yourself and cry. Let it breath within you. All the moments of despair, loss,
suffering and bile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let it out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How can a person tower into the sky, with
brittle roots? Eventually, through false notions, we come crashing down. Again.
Create solid roots from your sadness.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I’m both proud and ashamed of my thoughts. We are not all
meant to be angels. That’s a fallacy, a falsehood that only blind vagrants could
believe. Be as authentic as you can be, as you crawl through your own mud. I’m
not going to run, or hide, as that’s impossible. Face the demons, or they will
taunt you for the rest of your life. Then, upon the day of your end, they’ll
remind you of all your mistakes. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I am the sum of my memories. I am a child of my thoughts. My
actions are mine alone. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Create your
roots within the dark, to ensure the sunshine never burns you to your end. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Day 20:<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I don’t know what day it is. I’ve revised so many moments
within my memories. Nothing exists outside of this place I’m locked within. I
have my thoughts and finally, they are of peace, love, remembrance and this
very moment as I’m writing many words. I don’t know where I’m going, just yet,
but I’ve envisioned a new home, with someone. Someone special. A new start.
It’s what I’ve always wanted. I know that I ‘have’ to be a King amongst men,
for the Queen of my life. It’s an odd set of words to use and yet, we love the
words spoken upon the screens we find ourselves engrossed within.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I now know that every single thought, creates my reality. I
am, more or less, the only person that can change my life. One singular moment
can and will destroy so much work, so much peace, but that’s more than likely
from my own fears being projected to the world around me. Before I sleep, I
must never think ill or negative thoughts. We do not know the power we hold
within, despite watching or reading so many magical stories. We’re grounded,
but not in a beautiful way, a stranded fashion of the world’s order.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Day 25:<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The final day. I am at peace. Solitude, the soledad of my mind, is essential. No longer will I fill my days with vapid television,
adverts or meandering moments. I have suffered, mentally, for the longest of
times. I have tasted such loneliness and yet, managed to surface on the other
side of the most torrential, fierce, destructive notions created from this
conscious mind of mine. It’s okay, it’s meant to be, as I know myself far more
than I ever have. I now realise how my own mind works. So simple, yet ever so
complex.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I’m free, as much as I can be free, from an experimental
twenty-five days of solo life. I spend most of my normal life in the same way. I’m
never alone, as I’m here within myself. If I cannot find the answer, I will
envision the solution. If I do not know the path, I will create the path. If I
walk alone, I will ask for someone’s hand to accompany mine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I am, after all, the never ending experiment.<o:p></o:p></p>Damian Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01891554964149213015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1175656299872434541.post-50081241406342484062022-10-02T19:38:00.001+00:002022-10-02T19:38:17.118+00:00Artery<p style="text-align: justify;">Daniel looked out of the window, exhaling softly, moving himself
ever so slightly to gather comfort from the soft pillow behind his head. Emotionally,
maybe even physically, it hurt, from every corner of his mind, it hurt so very
much. He blinked twice, possibly wondering that if he did so, it would change
anything within his soul. It wouldn’t, it shouldn’t, as it couldn’t possibly do
so.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju5kCiKGGjFHYjbOZAIH_JoI93zUgsUtWBj8g8SFt7LsOHxf7JpwE-L5UVc5_i0BXYCiNqQsRHdXkv-MMLbW7DtsaOb2GYzxMnqlsaoezHKOeogwFPzsks_lFVbDEnTzJFpor5dCY2IE6FMUgo0lij8LHS2cZ52giGQ67NSWfq3uD3uj3VptshiUg/s1280/________________________________________________________Artery.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1280" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju5kCiKGGjFHYjbOZAIH_JoI93zUgsUtWBj8g8SFt7LsOHxf7JpwE-L5UVc5_i0BXYCiNqQsRHdXkv-MMLbW7DtsaOb2GYzxMnqlsaoezHKOeogwFPzsks_lFVbDEnTzJFpor5dCY2IE6FMUgo0lij8LHS2cZ52giGQ67NSWfq3uD3uj3VptshiUg/s320/________________________________________________________Artery.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">All of his misdemeanours, committed crimes and worse,
continued to haunt his thoughts. He truly thought that an eye for an eye was
the current climate of his life. He’d treated people to untruths, white lies
and more, over his many years and now, maybe his karma had finally arrived. It
mattered not that he’d suffered over and over again, when it came to
relationships. This was, after all, his script, his play, his inner worth and
more at work. He held the pages and he’d written the stories for others to
enact. He knew that if his own self worth wasn’t where it should be, his energy
would reflect such a state. The actors, within his play, enacting their parts with
aplomb.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He felt his emotions stir, memories returning once again to
haunt his waking slumber, as two tears moved from either eye. The warm, wet
emotions, falling around either side of his face. He knew that both tears were,
if he embraced honesty, pure, innocent, deep pain, falling away from his very
soul. He knew that he’d soon, very soon, no longer cry but until then, it still
all seemed so difficult.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He was a man. A male. A person that wasn’t supposed to feel
or, at least, suffer in such ways. His support structure, small, his
independence, the only thing he seemed to cherish. He wanted to scream, shout,
thrash about within his bed, but that wouldn’t be sensible as his energy levels
had, once again, reached the same old low. Night after night, month following
month, the broken sleep slowly grinding him down.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He looked up to the stars and, as he stretched out his arm,
his hand reaching towards some imaginary salvation, he opened his imagination.
In front of him, appeared a glowing image. He focused through his tear-filled
eyes, slowly, gradually, as an actual angel appeared within his view. Daniel’s
eyes widened at such a fabricated image but, seeing as he’d created such a
moment, he embraced his thoughts.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The angel smiled the warmest, most tender smile he’d ever
seen. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“What’s wrong?” asked the angel, as Daniel’s heart seemed to
glow within his chest.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“I have a broken heart,” he stated, with cracked words, as
more tears arrived to his eyes, “her emotional attraction simply fell and I
wasn’t enough. Whatever I am, however I was, no longer what she wanted!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The angel smiled, as she replied,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“My child. Hasn’t this event made you a smarter, more
knowledgeable, more repentant angel? Your ego has been reset. Your self-esteem
has levelled and, above all, you’re reaching within to find salvation! A new
path awaits you, no matter who follows alongside or holds your hand!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Daniel smiled a difficult smile, not able to reject the
Angel’s words. Instead, he nodded.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The Angel, leaning forward, reached inside of her own chest.
“I shall help you!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">After removing her fingers from within her chest, she held
out her hand and, within that hand, rested a glowing aorta, the largest artery
within the human body. She slowly, carefully, reached into Daniel’s chest and
replaced his artery with hers.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Now, you have a filter,” she said, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Whatever your mind thinks, will be filtered
before it reaches your heart and, through that, you will allow yourself some
space, a little more time, to think clearly with your heart! What will be, will
be just that. You own your own life, your own script. The 3D is yours to command!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Daniel smiled, his tears increasing, as he felt the glow
from within his chest. He could feel his heart, beating, thinking, becoming
something pure and calm. He looked towards the Angel, into her eyes, never
quite imagining that he’d feel something such as this. Upon the earth, the
realisation that heaven could exist, within each of us.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He closed his eyes, for the briefest of seconds, opening
them to daylight and a new day. His hand quickly shot to his chest, holding,
feeling, wondering if it was only a dream. He closed his eyes, listened,
knowing, that at times of such struggle, angels would, could and should, surely
be looking towards us for our greatest good. Even if it meant replacing an
artery, a heart, a soul or even a purpose, they’d make it happen.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Please don’t suffer alone. Speak. Talk. Communicate. Always.
xx<br /><br />(Audio will be added on the 8th)<o:p></o:p></p>Damian Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01891554964149213015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1175656299872434541.post-13883796504547200082022-10-02T19:08:00.005+00:002022-10-02T19:08:57.049+00:00Seasons<p style="text-align: justify;">Daniel, sat on the bench with legs crossed, looked out
across the lake. He found the view calm, quiet, serene and ever so beautiful.
This was his place, that place, where his breathing found a calm that the big
city never seemed to provide. He adored the time spent doing absolutely,
completely, nothing much at all.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQIxP-kFrOlUzCxQVFQqSjmWLqt5SLWzfKk9KpW3LA2MTy94GXJriAWf2In17btaOKc9DWpKqVzZG25_xGAmDjdp5SnGLw_Yez_dAD9sb07Mv36yjViZZCPAvlKLOe86fEyq_oZ2NuCrSxmKUzZMATCpNSAxdvMce8DaJ9nt_DKoyvC_PqUoBrZr0/s507/______________________________________________________Seasons.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="338" data-original-width="507" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQIxP-kFrOlUzCxQVFQqSjmWLqt5SLWzfKk9KpW3LA2MTy94GXJriAWf2In17btaOKc9DWpKqVzZG25_xGAmDjdp5SnGLw_Yez_dAD9sb07Mv36yjViZZCPAvlKLOe86fEyq_oZ2NuCrSxmKUzZMATCpNSAxdvMce8DaJ9nt_DKoyvC_PqUoBrZr0/s320/______________________________________________________Seasons.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">He’d visited this escape over the years, upon the days that
afforded him the luxury of undertaking the reasonably short journey. No beeping
cars, no screeching of tyres, no coughing individuals and, most certainly, providing
a slower pace of life. He’d seen the transformation of each season, moving,
adapting, changing to the ever-shifting planet. This year, he was joined by
another, his friend, companion, lover and, of course, the one that made him
smile.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">They’d seen the growth from Spring, the animals starting to
birth, the ducks around the lake creating new life, the showers of rain coming
and going, with the days and moments seemingly longer as each new day appeared.
They’d met in the Spring, the perchance meeting becoming a realistic notion,
within the couple. Friends before lovers. Understanding before connecting,
creating something new that would hopefully last as long as a spring filled
day. Daniel held her hand, relaxing that little further into the soft, plush,
outside self-cushioned bench. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">They’d witnessed the colours of Summer, where they’d both experienced
many adventures, away from the hustle and bustle of their normal lives. Summer
always brought warmth, the adventure of finding new places and moments, always
inspiring the both of them, to be more than they currently were. Arm in arm,
day by day, they’d walk around the small lake experiencing the calm afforded to
them both.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">They’d watched the Fall of Autumn, with colours fading to be
replaced with the yellow, red and browns of life. The weather, changing, with
the days becoming shorter, they’d find comfort inside. Holding, embracing,
becoming closer than ever before. This, to the two, involved a time to weather
any storm. Each day, colder than the next, with animals preparing to hide.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">They’d felt the cold of Winter, surrounding them, nipping,
biting at their fingers and toes. The landscape, changing ever further, covered
with the beautiful snow of change. They’d play, they’d roll within the days of inner
warmth, the fire alight within each of them. There would always be something
special about the cold storms of life. It brought people together, closer, the
embrace confirming the connection and stability. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Daniel loved this place. His escape, their sanctuary, from
everything and everyone else. They both knew that although the seasons were
becoming mixed, neither really acknowledged the fact that each new day seemed
to vanish with ease. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Effortless,
timeless, the drama of eventualities not even considered when embraced by the
authentic heart of another. He knew that no matter what was said, no matter
what they did, he didn’t care which season it was, as he’d spend each and every
single one of them, with her.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p>Damian Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01891554964149213015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1175656299872434541.post-64609781786248723552022-10-02T19:07:00.003+00:002022-10-02T19:07:52.729+00:00Who<p style="text-align: justify;">Let’s start by grabbing a small, little, slice of paper.
Let’s call this little bit of paper your imagination. Sure, your imagination
can be as big, or as little as you like, but today, it’s going to be just the
size you need.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC6ytg21ct118ZVefSSotIBKOTneoaX94AhbcdmhK6bBOYnDmtrxXtHS3BW4o756E7McFqeOsOP5Lo0vifj4DOcPau2Mw_5tT1ux28i0sdhcI2ujvhmW2JllPYqe1el5B7MMmNdgoCyeNp_ib9HPXT2nAE3vDubIWmZtd-VnKDbhuIcHbCW9sf2u4/s849/__________________________________________________________Who.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="566" data-original-width="849" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC6ytg21ct118ZVefSSotIBKOTneoaX94AhbcdmhK6bBOYnDmtrxXtHS3BW4o756E7McFqeOsOP5Lo0vifj4DOcPau2Mw_5tT1ux28i0sdhcI2ujvhmW2JllPYqe1el5B7MMmNdgoCyeNp_ib9HPXT2nAE3vDubIWmZtd-VnKDbhuIcHbCW9sf2u4/s320/__________________________________________________________Who.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Pick the characters, the participants, give them names and
above all, give them a purpose. A lover, a friend, a person that adds a little
tease, some play, or just annoys the heck out of you. Either way, they’re all
playing a part in your story. This, above all, is your imagination. We often
allow our imagination to run away like a fool, that disregards our sanity, but
today we’re taking full control.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Once we’re there, within your play of plays, create
situations, places, with even more random faces, that you may never actually
get to meet. Once you have the scenes, the players, the artists and the script
writer has been set (also you), you can enact the scenes that you’d like to
appear within.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Yes, that’s right, you and you alone, are the main star
within your orchestrated operatic performance. You’re the producer, the writer,
the script developer, the scenery artist and, basically, everything.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Now. You’re there. What’s your worth? How do you appear? How
do you feel? How do YOU… create your scenes? What is your worth? Have a think,
take some thought, before your imaginary pen touches the page of your mind.
This is serious, it’s delicate work and above all, you’re creating the very
‘you’, that every single person will see within your play. Let’s imagine that
this is also real life and, as you know, you’ll also appear to those people in
the same way you write your fictional character.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Picture your face, envision your smile, your thoughts and
your worth. Are you in love? Are you worthwhile? What ‘is’ your worth? So many
questions and yet, these thoughts form and create energy that ‘make’ your
thoughts become real life. When enacting, when you’re the person and character
that you would like to be, feel. Feel everything. The texture of your clothes, feel
the smile upon your own lips, enact with the characters with real emotion, with
certainty and authenticity. Feeling is… everything. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">That’s right, we’ve gone from an imaginary play, created and
played within your mind, to how you’re viewed and ‘felt/feeling’ in real life.
Every thought, every play that you create within your mind, forms your actions
in real life. If you’re not good enough, then that will sound LOUD and CLEAR in
the real world, not just within the play of your mind.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Now, we start again. First, create your character. You and
you alone, are the most important person within this play. You’re smart,
sophisticated, loving, caring, worthwhile and more than amazing. Remember,
every line of your script forms how your life will flow. If you think a person
will treat you bad, they will as ‘YOU’ make it happen with your exposed energy.
Of course, horrible people do exist, but maybe your play could change the way
they see you. Even idiots respond to energy. It’s the script, you see, the
words you create within your mind.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">After all, ‘who’ are you? ‘Who’ will you become? Who,
indeed.<o:p></o:p></p>Damian Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01891554964149213015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1175656299872434541.post-58596942640464225502022-09-16T20:07:00.006+00:002022-09-22T17:35:50.227+00:00Thirty<p style="text-align: justify;">Thirty days. Thirty days is all it takes.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Over the last twenty-nine days, we’ve experienced joy,
wonder, excitement, fun and far, far more. We’ve had smile filled adventures, mildly
planned for the future, and expressed so much to each other. It’s been wild,
silly, filled with laughter and the wonder of two people that really, really do
like each other.<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyR6varOjwYEkGtG4pKfK-JZJ3RIFaoavdV0vPNWxmVusuaSrqHWOz1oGkFLVmdzey2AvXHZJUrJVAoLLkJKvM149KjXgZVpx_OhnwYAFViIE1tMdkBZvC4-C7R_WAmxpBZvNXlMBWiY7IHZuov1q8mUtdJz1fMMGNRZTxn3mUL0iJZd1tSGcSpY0/s797/Thirty.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="431" data-original-width="797" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyR6varOjwYEkGtG4pKfK-JZJ3RIFaoavdV0vPNWxmVusuaSrqHWOz1oGkFLVmdzey2AvXHZJUrJVAoLLkJKvM149KjXgZVpx_OhnwYAFViIE1tMdkBZvC4-C7R_WAmxpBZvNXlMBWiY7IHZuov1q8mUtdJz1fMMGNRZTxn3mUL0iJZd1tSGcSpY0/s320/Thirty.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">On the thirtieth day, I did something wrong. Nothing that
bad, nothing to annoy the neighbours, scare the dogs or wake the dead. It was
an event, a moment, that could have been overlooked or, even, discussed and worked
upon. For every eventuality, there’s options, solutions and forward paths.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Upon that day, your mind started to play the usual games.
The devaluation. The worry. The thoughts forming scenarios within your mind. It
won’t work, it’s never going to happen, it’s over and now, just now, you’re
looking for a way out. It matters not that the same circular scenario has
played out again and again in our lives, as we often don’t realise that ‘we’re’ also the one
with the issue(s), repeating and playing around within our minds. I know, as
I’ve been there and resolved. It is a never-ending journey of realisation and
healing. We all have issues and, if we’re aware, we can resolve them.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">It escalates within you; it then escalates around you.
Growing. Placing roots, despite your other thoughts trying to move the ship
away from the storm bashed rocks. This shouldn’t be a shipwreck. You distance
yourself, hurting the other person on purpose, asking them to bridge the gap
that they, often, don’t even realise exists. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This wouldn’t be a total loss if, maybe, upon
a sun filled day, we evaluated and communicated our fears and follies.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Instead, we ruminate, procrastinate, devaluate and cast
aside something or someone that offers us such affection, that the angels
themselves shake their heads in disbelief. I’ve been here, there, on both
sides, so I’m no angel. I understand or, at least, I do once I’m far, far over
on the other side. It’s now, as well as forever, too late. You’ve become nasty,
the spite filled words affording the other person confusion, as they retreat
within themselves.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Upon the thirtieth day, we seemingly forget the previous
twenty-nine days. We disavow the moments, the kisses, the sordid promises made
within the darkness of emotion, choosing, instead, to escape to the green grass
of freedom. Selected solitary confinement, chosen away from the wilds of being
cared for. Such an easy decision, for a society filled with vapid options. We
then quickly embrace another, to escape the hollow feeling, the odd behavioural
nature of a child trapped within. We cast aside the person that loves us, to be
with another to fulfil our selfish pain and suffering. The scales, however,
never balance upon such an action. What once was, no longer required to fill
the never-ending void of empty feelings. The discarded person, perpetually
looking for rescue, with no sea faring vessel within view, struggles. The arms of
another not being an option, to such a crippled individual. The only option,
being learning and development. The leaving party, resolves themselves to
simply having fun until the ramifications appear within their emotions. Still,
as mentioned, too late for a reprieve, as we have to first become 'better' versions of ourselves.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Eventually, one day within another range of thirty, we look
back upon what we could have had. We look back to see what we let go of. It’s
too late. It’s done. Despite the twenty-nine days of wealth, prosperity,
abundance and gratitude for wishes fulfilled, we allow our insecurities and
past traumas to rule our worlds. It is a shame, it is a baseless wish, for
people to fix and fulfil themselves before destroying another. We seldom
embrace the fixing of oneself, until we ourselves, are abandoned. The abandoner
remains to commit the same mistakes, as well as sins, again and again whilst
pointing the finger to others. The selfish nature of a trapped child revolving
around and around. However, there should be no blame in a game that involves two. Or maybe, even three.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Our egos cannot ‘possibly’ commit a wrong upon another, when
that same said ego believes that we are the wronged. We believe that we simply
cannot find the correct person to love us, yet, right in front of us, stands a
person that would build a veritable castle upon the words of our name. It is
the way of the world. It is natural, the nature of things, with the circus
performing the same dance again and again. We are all broken and yet, once cast
aside, we grasp the eventual opportunity to gather wealth to our knowledge. It
is unfortunate, that another has the moment to hold a better version, instead
of becoming better for the person we once wished to love. We are unknowing,
until we’re forced to know. We are without, until we reach within.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Maybe, just maybe, we’ll one day manage to reach the thirty
first day and then, we can hold a hand forever or, at least, tell no lies when
wishing for something more. Thirty days simply isn’t enough, for someone that
has no intentions of actually trying to reach the thirty first day.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /><br /></p><div style="text-align: center;">(So many people having relationship issues, or splitting, lately!)</div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja6QnVH0E2pCyKqUZIbqZ9riilftSM9rYSxtrb_4nfr4fkoZzGSEt3PWRaxy1L0Ehri_2Qlaz5MT3tuKSkB5jKuufjkmAGB0epzzWsSOPvS6bptH49vWui5M6y9GLs7doL1gmlkKL3CC2WgFVidP6ZSz7Yyy97v1h8ce_rjpGXYxMSf3q2cLRpKEE/s115/Listen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="109" data-original-width="115" height="109" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja6QnVH0E2pCyKqUZIbqZ9riilftSM9rYSxtrb_4nfr4fkoZzGSEt3PWRaxy1L0Ehri_2Qlaz5MT3tuKSkB5jKuufjkmAGB0epzzWsSOPvS6bptH49vWui5M6y9GLs7doL1gmlkKL3CC2WgFVidP6ZSz7Yyy97v1h8ce_rjpGXYxMSf3q2cLRpKEE/s1600/Listen.jpg" width="115" /></a><br /><a href="https://youtu.be/jG1tq1xpZ8E">Click to Listen</a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><o:p></o:p><p></p>Damian Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01891554964149213015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1175656299872434541.post-67538005797619971512022-09-16T11:23:00.006+00:002022-09-16T11:23:44.474+00:00Imagination<p style="text-align: justify;">We live within a world that is less than perfect. We see
poverty, misunderstandings, greed, pestilence and more. It’s a shame, a
travesty, a concoction of reaching for a position of unfathomable betterment and
improvement. We’re often side-tracked by life, by situations, overwhelming our
senses and thought processes.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjppE4ZMsnpp2BnYSyJ2Dd-bQ_Fxv39ZNDS4Kyp5aZMMlNjf-GcmXAiQfsG2BwjUXUTyOeiRRc8Hdx4nGDhJ-pj_s6rq_pytJC4bcZYtt3ZPs0v169SKt03tu0fcDOhoV_w5Qf-fZGqCL3rQgpOeJvUKZralI92NpSnXgcNWNLH8PRUGZHMCkEVKCE/s986/Imagination.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="554" data-original-width="986" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjppE4ZMsnpp2BnYSyJ2Dd-bQ_Fxv39ZNDS4Kyp5aZMMlNjf-GcmXAiQfsG2BwjUXUTyOeiRRc8Hdx4nGDhJ-pj_s6rq_pytJC4bcZYtt3ZPs0v169SKt03tu0fcDOhoV_w5Qf-fZGqCL3rQgpOeJvUKZralI92NpSnXgcNWNLH8PRUGZHMCkEVKCE/s320/Imagination.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Personally, as a child, I knew that I had an amazing
imagination. It kept me company upon many a trip, sitting in a truck, waiting
for hours on end or watching the motorway miles vanish before my eyes. I
imagined that I could fly, whispering through the clouds at unimaginable
speeds. I would run, feel the earth leave my feet and I would flow into the air
like the mightiest bird. I dreamed of innocence. The thoughts of a young child.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Now that I’ve grown, again and again, often via forced
situations and pain, I’m once again turning to my imagination. For years, I’ve
stayed static. The inner voice, be it my heart, soul or mind, remained quiet
and I obviously thought that I’d found a place of solace. A reprieve from the
previous days, where my mind would castigate my actions again and again. If
your inner mind is quiet, you have truly reached a place of safety. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Unfortunately, this often does not last. To be a quiet soul,
means that you eventually wish to invite another into that space. The
inevitable is just that. My mind is no longer quiet and, my space is, once
again, solitary.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Like a child or, a teenager that’s been freed from a prison,
I once again wish to use my imagination. Every thought within my mind, or maybe
even my heart space, changes my energy, my world and my day-to-day life. If
you’re negative, then that energy ‘will’ flow from your body into the world. If
you’re happy, it will show upon your lips, eyes and flow. It’s difficult, it’s
arduous, to take control of your thoughts. They command you. They can berate
you. They can override all the smiles and words you speak upon a given day.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">No more. I’m trying. We should try. Change your thoughts. Be
polite to yourself. Be gentle with yourself. You’re sensitive or, possibly,
blocked due to your life’s arduous tasks. It will be okay. There are no
problems, only solutions. There should always be a path, if you allow the path
to exist. No, I’m not going crazy, as I believe that life is what you make it
and no-one else is responsible for your life, or situations, but yourself
(within reason). <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Imagine a better world. Imagine that specific person being
nice to you. Imagine holding the hand of the person you love, have lost, may
never see again and wish them well. Send the positive motives into the void and
raise yourself to a preferred space. Every single breath, is energy. Every
exhalation, another chance to reduce your stress and over-thinking. To feel, is
to become. To imagine, is to dream. We, you, I, us, together, can change the
world. Think big, think the small thoughts, smile when everyone is looking and move
through a room like you’re glowing.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Even when your pride has been crushed, even if your ego has
been shattered, even when your self-esteem has been reduced to a pile of
wounded tears, stand up, turn up, glow up and use your imagination to become
more. What you think, is what you become. If you believe that a person will do
something that makes you mad, then your own actions and thoughts can ensure
that it happens. It’s an odd set of situations. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I’m trying to imagine, to use my imagination to create a
better world for myself. I’m taking my energy, my thoughts, to form them into
something that overrides the negative spaces within my heart. It’s taking time,
but each day is a new day and upon every new day, we can bravely smile, accept
ourselves and use our imagination to form a new person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You truly, honestly, are what you think. They
often say that you are what you eat, which is often accepted without question,
so it’s obvious that your thoughts ‘are’ you. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I’m waking up to a new way of thinking and, if I’m honest,
it’s quite a change. No matter what someone takes from you, no matter how
you’re treated, no matter where you are, no matter the circumstance or situation,
no-one can ever take away your imagination. Use it. Enjoy it. Embrace it and
become something new with your given power. I’ll see you there, with a smile.<o:p></o:p></p>Damian Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01891554964149213015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1175656299872434541.post-54627037517350203552022-09-16T11:22:00.004+00:002022-09-16T11:22:30.909+00:00Am<p style="text-align: justify;">It’s taken a very, very long time but, finally, I truly hope
that I’ve realised what I am. That’s it, that’s the answer right there… ‘I am’.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">It seems so simple, so easy, yet there’s a radical shift
that has to take place within your mind before you ‘truly’ understand.
Actually, let’s remove the word, ‘understand’, to replace it with, ‘believe’.
We know what we are, or, so we think. <o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5upH9NKaNyT3ON9GfqchLWiOPkwqQJ_u-yz69Xlw2RdePOcbA8bn5ZKjhBbp-kvZ8yiorQlxZoEbpov32CU0jPIEN5h9z04OVF7tvrU8KRiuftLZ8UFkKMdumL_kIb1Pv70A3ovbbylLZ9uxKk3BjgcDS8WvxQ7WAaQ6Npxn04DhgwkbGnKuGNDI/s896/Am.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="504" data-original-width="896" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5upH9NKaNyT3ON9GfqchLWiOPkwqQJ_u-yz69Xlw2RdePOcbA8bn5ZKjhBbp-kvZ8yiorQlxZoEbpov32CU0jPIEN5h9z04OVF7tvrU8KRiuftLZ8UFkKMdumL_kIb1Pv70A3ovbbylLZ9uxKk3BjgcDS8WvxQ7WAaQ6Npxn04DhgwkbGnKuGNDI/s320/Am.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Over my life, I’ve experienced a couple of odd situations,
circumstances, that made me sit back and smile. I won’t dive into them, as
they’re for me to cherish and for you to find your own situations and
experiences. When I refer to, ‘I am’, I point towards a specific way of
thinking.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Have you ever wondered why relationships end, your weight
never drops, or you seemingly run into bad luck? Personally, I have a strong
mind and, thankfully, I’ve often been upon the path of understanding without
realistically appreciating the full ramifications of the situation(s).<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">If you believe that someone will leave you, they will. You
will, always, almost certainly, manifest your thoughts into the real world. It
is inevitable. If you ‘think’ that someone will never change, you will grasp
every ounce of whatever situation resolves your thinking into being. We, us,
ourselves, are our worst, best enemies. Being secure in our thinking is
paramount. It is absolutely everything.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Know your worth. We tell ourselves a story upon each given
day. We’re not good enough, we do not deserve to be happy, we often end up in
the same relationships/situations etc. No, sorry, you’re (possibly) wrong.
We’re (possibly) wrong. We bring our thoughts to life. There are no problems,
only solutions. There is no search, other than to ask for the very map to which
we find salvation. “Why does this always happen to me?” Well, it’s because we
often ‘make’ it happen. We can destroy such amazing situations, then blame the
other person. Sure, no-one is realistically blame free.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Yeah, I know, it all sounds dream filled and magical. Let’s
suggest that every thought has an energy to it, a life, a purpose. If you think
a thought, you will ‘eventually’ believe that thought. We are a race of
individuals that ‘must’ be right at every turn. “I knew that it wouldn’t
work!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, I know, it wouldn’t work as
your thoughts made it so. Thoughts within our mind should be expressed,
especially when they’re damaging. Person A will see you one way, with person B
seeing you a different way. You are still the same person, but our experiences,
regrets, loves, losses, failures, scars and reasoning make the difference. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I won’t lie. It takes a radical shift and, being honest, a
change of thinking along with your perception of the world. The world is
energy. It will always be energy. Sound is created by energy. A touch requires
energy. To break a heart requires energy. To heal a heart, even more.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Your inner dialogue, from your conscious mind, controls your
subconscious thoughts. What you think, is what you will be. Your body means
nothing, when all is said and done, with your mind ravaging your energy and
life. It’s taken a long, long time for me to reach this place and, above all,
I’m thankful. Sure, it’s going to take further time, before I grasp my mind to
change the ‘old’ stories. I no longer wish to see the world from whatever
platform I sat upon. I know, I’m more grounded than I’ve ever been, but there’s
still scars to bypass. Wait… no, I’m already far further than the scars, left
upon my person. I’ve visualised a new person. I’ve seen the end of the race. It
‘felt’ amazing. It’s here, now, within me. From within, your form is created.
Why waste time feeling bad? Believe. Become what you believe by changing your
thoughts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It’s hopeless!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, it is, if you keep ‘saying’ it’s
hopeless. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Believe. You, just you, are the most complete version of
yourself (if you believe). Deny the voice within. Stall the never-ending
dialogue that tells you that A is B. It isn’t. Explore. Talk Communicate.
Explain. Resolve. It’s easier than we believe. Once you’re complete, become
complete again and again. Learn. Achieve. Embrace knowledge and understanding.
Do NOT let your conscious mind control your world. It will and can destroy
everything. After all…<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I am.<o:p></o:p></p>Damian Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01891554964149213015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1175656299872434541.post-76076265973591441882022-08-23T15:31:00.001+00:002022-08-23T15:31:17.779+00:00Boat<p style="text-align: justify;">Simon’s eyes blinked a few times, his hand reaching up to wipe
away the water upon his face. He focussed, startled, shocked, not quite
understanding how he came to be in such a place. One moment, sun filled skies,
solid ground underneath his feet and the next, he’s in a rowing boat in the
middle of a stormy sea.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSMHph74x3mOvtLlyBZGL_k9jpMaAlxByE3RrMtGOo-uq3-tTYt_FSPhxzjeFRlL09aPRbX9PJwiz0H7RzMxmor0Nex2EJVgKUQx4OzLfOhvPb-efPmuv4ukgA0KYGPSXxgWhi6uxWp2mLGIIUfI22DGG6hVvAsieIV3zjQKUvpi7cmSQ-HqXbrLs/s396/0cd7ae2083f0ae3301c129b55eade5ce--ocean-storm-storm-clouds.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="259" data-original-width="396" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSMHph74x3mOvtLlyBZGL_k9jpMaAlxByE3RrMtGOo-uq3-tTYt_FSPhxzjeFRlL09aPRbX9PJwiz0H7RzMxmor0Nex2EJVgKUQx4OzLfOhvPb-efPmuv4ukgA0KYGPSXxgWhi6uxWp2mLGIIUfI22DGG6hVvAsieIV3zjQKUvpi7cmSQ-HqXbrLs/s320/0cd7ae2083f0ae3301c129b55eade5ce--ocean-storm-storm-clouds.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">His hands reached out, grabbing hold of the oars, not quite
understanding the situation or what he was supposed to do. His head turned to his
left, then right, trying to locate some type of sanctuary, a respite, a place
of safety. He focused his mind, trying to reach inward to find calm. For a
second, he believed, he actually believed, that he’d be okay. The weight of the
situation, all at once, pushing against his shoulders and thoughts.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The next second, mighty thundering lightning cracked
throughout the sky, sending him slightly backward into the boat. His back,
pressed against the cold wooden surface, found a form of stability within the
calm. He felt his mind juggle a thousand moments, a million emotions, as he
once again tried to find some form of rescue. It was, as he currently knew,
unlikely that it would be found.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The denial, the words of solace within him, sent out a
thousand messages, a million words, in the hope that some type of angel would
remove his solitude. The voices above remained silent, with another thundering
event sending flashes through the night’s cold. There were no angels within his
scenario, no rescue, only his thoughts, his body and himself.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He cried, the sudden tears rising within him as he lifted
his head to peek over the side of the boat. The waves were growing, angry
waves, that seemed to be calling him names. He was worthless, his self-esteem
falling to the very lowest level of emotional stability, as he succumbed to the
demands of his situation. It was a worthless effort, hopeless, no matter how
much he tried to move the boat. He defeated himself, without even trying, once
again, to move to safety.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">His tears joined the boat’s influx of water as, finally, he
realised that he had to remove some weight. Even tears held their weight within
his mind, which meant that he should cry, instead of leaving within the burden of fear. With both hands, he tried to remove the water. It was, to his
mind, more or less hopeless. The weight of the situation, his world, seemed to
be filling the boat faster than he could throw aside the growing boat’s
content.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He wanted to give up, to escape the boat, to simply let the
waves take him to the depths of darkness. He had, more or less, given up. The
darkness, the weight, the thoughts, the feelings and worth inside, all combining
together to seemingly crush his self-esteem, hope, self-worth and emotional
sanctity. He closed his eyes, as his hands continued to throw as much water
over the side as possible. He refused to stand still. He refused to simply let
the darkness, the thunder, the wild sea of life take him. It would be easy to
simply deny the willingness to continue. It would be quicker to just end his
suffering.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He gritted his teeth, with tears still falling around him, as
he grabbed the oars. He would at least try, he would at least envision dry land,
until the very last breath left his soul. He repeated positive words within his
mind, over and over again, as he calmed his body. Breathing in, slowly, deeply,
as he exhaled with each movement of the boat. Little by little, slowly, surely,
with each row, he found a small amount of peace. He didn’t wish to open his
eyes, but he did so regardless of his fear. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He wanted to smile, to believe, that there would be an island behind him but, instead, he felt the fear rise within, which was
confusing. Hope, to be happy for even a second, filled him with fear. If he
felt a smile upon his face, the boat could crack, a wave could take him at any
second, or the thundering light could strike him down. He wanted to smile, to laugh,
to find the situation, one of madness. He couldn’t, he dared not tempt the
anger of the universe. To even think of hope, at this time, could mean
disappointment within the very next second.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He shook his head, the rain saturating every inch of him, as
he finally dared himself to smile. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t and most certainly
shouldn’t let the wild seas take him away. He was on dry land, filled with
sunshine, barely seconds before and the next, this place. He knew that life featured roaring seas of turbulence, but what he didn’t expect was how suddenly it
appeared. Within a second, the madness had gripped him. Within a moment, he’d
lost so much of his very person, to fear, to loss, to having to learn and
adapt. It was an experience that he’d never forget, if he survived. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">As his mind, heart and most certainly soul, grasped the
thought of effort and persistence, the lightning stopped. He dared not look to
the sky, still afraid to tempt the fate of happiness. He continued adapting, learning,
understanding his situation and, with each movement, the sky started to clear as
the waves calmed.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He still wouldn’t smile, internally, despite the exterior
showing just that. The illusion of a smile, hiding so much. He looked behind
him, realising that the next few seconds would bring him to safety and then, as
the boat touched dry land, he jumped up and threw himself onto the sand filled
beach. He’d made it, he’d managed to make it through the turbulence, the
sadness, depression and uncertainty. As his hands pushed into the sand, his
smile vanished as he realised, that his situation would now require reflection,
study, understanding and energy. He would never wish to return to the boat, the
place that caused him so much stress, fear, trepidation and sorrow.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He stood, glancing back one last time towards the boat and
the sea. He was glad, in a way, as he realised that things would have been far,
far worse, without the boat that his mind had placed him in. <o:p></o:p></p>Damian Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01891554964149213015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1175656299872434541.post-83835111365023060512022-08-23T15:31:00.000+00:002022-08-23T15:31:14.572+00:00Beast<p style="text-align: justify;">Some would say that beasts mainly hunt at night, keeping to
the shadows to devour and hide their true intentions and bloodlust. Others
would say that some beasts stand beside you in plain sight, smiling, while
plotting your vey downfall. Personally, I feel that monsters and beasts come in
all differing shapes and sizes.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp25LFs1NA8G1n3as6lA0TqSeh-IeNgXfAAqCBokywBIvX678i_psnAPnxoAwYGaddRsH8NQV3qcRQm0u9irq4mIqfPlzRwlfYMLsGjNnNat_E4glAHn9T7WEx5TxemwVCup-z2hAUzUNohzwYZtc0V24LeT87ixL_dwNnEMCvln7-AeWWFeuWgm4/s636/3e5d98f64671eb99ef062a5715e2d2e3663e1570_hq.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="448" data-original-width="636" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp25LFs1NA8G1n3as6lA0TqSeh-IeNgXfAAqCBokywBIvX678i_psnAPnxoAwYGaddRsH8NQV3qcRQm0u9irq4mIqfPlzRwlfYMLsGjNnNat_E4glAHn9T7WEx5TxemwVCup-z2hAUzUNohzwYZtc0V24LeT87ixL_dwNnEMCvln7-AeWWFeuWgm4/s320/3e5d98f64671eb99ef062a5715e2d2e3663e1570_hq.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">There is something out there, that stalks us each and every
single day. It’s a slow monster, in a fashion, that constantly and utterly
wears a person down to dust. It waits for you, watches you, wondering when
you’re about to let your guard down or, even, dare to feel good for but a
moment. It seizes every opportunity and only the brave and strong escape its
grip.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">It’s hidden within all of us. It’s obvious as the night is
dark. It’s the hidden beast that prays for a chance at destroying you.
Self-confidence, self-esteem, happiness and more are but its playthings. It
laughs at our ideals and ignores our pleas of hesitance and suffering. It
hunts, hounds, claws at your heart and mind, while leaving scars upon your very
soul. It breaks you, slowly, destroying the chance of having a life of
normality. It evades and, all at once, can vanish to re-appear the moment that
you can breathe.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">It’s your own mind, your own failings. The doubt and
struggle within. Your mind, that mind of yours, has two aspects. One side of
you thinks fast, it saves you, cradles you, ensures that you eat and drink,
allows you to walk and far, far more. The other side of you, the beast within,
can be pondering, strategic, ever so fast but oh so cunning. It doesn’t mean to
hurt you, but it understands that if it were not for pain, the suffering, that
we’d never actually change.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">It's seemingly never ending, once the trauma starts. You’re
worthless, you’re good wasn’t good enough. Your efforts to become a better
person have failed, miserably. Everything you are, or might possibly be, is
pointless. It’s the demon within, the cold, calculating, horror of words and
whispers that ends even the finest person.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">We can reach a place, a safe place, where the monsters
cannot find us. It’s still there, within you, a part of all of us. The silence,
golden. The reprieve, magical. The moment, fleeting. We’ve all been there.
We’ve all experienced our monster within. It waits for us to fail. It wants for
us to feel weak. It’s the unrelenting parent within, almost always bullying the
inner-child that’s hardly ever had a chance to stand up and grow. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Despite the horror, despite the whispering words of deluged
trauma inducing moments, the beast within is there to be controlled. We command
ourselves. We own our own worth. We specify the length of time for which we
permit the monster to roam the lands of our mind. For everything, there is a
time. If you are beaten, if you are eaten to an inch of your life, descending
to the depths of despair and ever so slightly beyond, we can find our courage.
We can find our reason. We can hold that monster within a vice like grip and
refuse to listen. We are worthwhile. Our worth is not defined by another or,
even, our own monster within.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">We can stand tall, embracing the fear that we feel within
our very blood. Cast the words aside, allow the time required to become
stronger, broader, a learned character and flourish through the words of
self-deprecation. Replace the words spoken by an animal that’s never faced the
fear that you and I have. All it can do is speak, chastise, bemoan, garnish the
truth with frivolities and admonish without realising its own part in the
fantasy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s there to make you stronger,
to find the courage and energy to silence the beast once and for all.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Some would say that beasts mainly hunt at night, keeping to
the shadows to devour and hide their true intentions and bloodlust. Others
would say that some beasts stand beside you in plain sight, smiling, while
plotting your vey downfall. Personally, I feel that whatever is inside you is
there for a purpose and if that makes it a monster, then so be it.<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihLocmktGnj87snPSgDJEZyBULSyE1jGDdkicW5LIaw977KwnpqL-hc_GqDIjYpfeMqLf7VwKJ7cEsDNta1vzOukeK9J-mEDytTfz4AafOZad8ysSj8INNM2uSJ0apJaIog5QWi_zTM1ax_QJIkv7tSIYEhsg_7O6JQDAdAzsrSmrQxAlCmymIWLM/s115/Listen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="109" data-original-width="115" height="109" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihLocmktGnj87snPSgDJEZyBULSyE1jGDdkicW5LIaw977KwnpqL-hc_GqDIjYpfeMqLf7VwKJ7cEsDNta1vzOukeK9J-mEDytTfz4AafOZad8ysSj8INNM2uSJ0apJaIog5QWi_zTM1ax_QJIkv7tSIYEhsg_7O6JQDAdAzsrSmrQxAlCmymIWLM/s1600/Listen.jpg" width="115" /></a><br /><a href="https://youtu.be/R3EoO7VShgo" target="_blank">Click to Listen</a></div><br />Damian Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01891554964149213015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1175656299872434541.post-31548302306100637922022-08-23T15:30:00.001+00:002022-08-23T15:30:51.952+00:00Escaped (F2R)<p style="text-align: justify;">The hermetic seal broke as his eyes forced themselves to
focus. Groggy, the sick feeling within his stomach asking for sustenance, he
moved his head ever so slightly forward.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“It’s okay, focus on me. I’m going to open the enclosure so
let me assist you!”<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiznbQ5LY8R0-Z1cvNlHPYTGBhxjpl72MvKAwz_MF98xWj4Uq6FNX4QO122Acdfb7SYV2hxlekqTmHnCF_91Vt57S3G6odoFrrxozrRqtBQvdd8wx-ngQp1wPJMyAFz2tRluM-ayzsQHJaJbGcTJj-vlajgfo8v1VD0wh0AlPX_8eSZ2cjvcaUML0c/s360/________________________________________Post__Escaped01062020%20F2R.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="360" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiznbQ5LY8R0-Z1cvNlHPYTGBhxjpl72MvKAwz_MF98xWj4Uq6FNX4QO122Acdfb7SYV2hxlekqTmHnCF_91Vt57S3G6odoFrrxozrRqtBQvdd8wx-ngQp1wPJMyAFz2tRluM-ayzsQHJaJbGcTJj-vlajgfo8v1VD0wh0AlPX_8eSZ2cjvcaUML0c/s320/________________________________________Post__Escaped01062020%20F2R.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He watched, head spinning, as the enclosure’s door opened as
he found her steadying grasp. With her hand placed against his chest, she held
him against the bed that had been his home for two hundred plus years.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“What year is it?” he asked, blinking a few times, as the
woman in front of him placed her shoulder against the side of his chest, with
her left arm moving to hold his back. With her right hand steadying him, she
replied.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Take a step forward if you feel comfortable to do so! It’s
the year two thousand, two hundred and twenty-one!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">His mind, still grasping the images and thoughts slowly
appearing into his view, recalled the very last memory before entering the pod.
He was sick. Ill. Not exactly terminal, but one of the few that agreed to the
trial. He might not have died, but didn’t have anything to lose. His life, back
then, was filled with the sick and twisted people around him. Many physically
ill, but most mentally suffering. He couldn’t help, with his own demons
surrounding him from time to time. He wanted, wished and needed, to escape.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He stepped forward, slowly, tentatively, knowing very well
that his legs would need time to regain their strength. He felt weak, forlorn,
the chemical slope hitting his body as his stomach continued to ask for real food.
She led him to a white chair, which was next to a white table within the white,
sterile, chamber. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Sit, listen to my voice and keep looking at me!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Daniel watched, as the woman opened a small case, producing
something that looked like a gun. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“What’s that?” he asked with a small amount of trepidation. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“This? It’s a medical syringe that will give your body
everything it needs!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He relaxed, a little, as she pressed the gun to his thigh
and, after a small stinging pain faded, he immediately felt the feelings within
his body change. The lethargic, sickening feeling lifted and he suddenly no
longer wished to eat anything and everything. He smiled, nodding, thanking her
in his own silent way. She stepped back a few paces, beckoning Daniel to stand.
He wiggled his toes, tensing his legs a little, feeling brave after the
miraculous shot.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He stood, slowly, finding his balance after being vertically
stored for many, many years. He was keen, optimistic, as well as firmly wishing
to progress and acclimatise to whatever social system was now in place. He’d
read books, explored all of the possibilities, been instructed and finally,
after the chance of never waking firmly placed behind him, ready to live the
rest of his life.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Stepping forward, finally managing to look at her, he
suddenly realised how striking she was. The hairstyle, out of this world. Her
clothes, formal, clean and crisp. She wasn’t wearing any make-up, her natural
skin complexion and beauty shining through. Her eyes, especially, had a certain
glow that he hadn’t seen for many, many years. He laughed to himself, realising
that it really had been many, many years.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He walked around the table a few times, tensing, stretching
ever so slightly, reminding his body that he could and would actually move. He
raised his arms, slowly, into the air, moving them back down to his sides,
stretching. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">She smiled, watching every single thing that he did. “Okay,
if you’re ready, shall I show you what the world has become?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Daniel nodded, his eagerness apparent as he
literally dashed forward towards the door, only to be stopped by the fact that
it had no handle. Confused, he looked at her, <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“I’m being rude, what’s your name?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Oza!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Nice name. Bit different. Then again it’s probably not to
everyone alive today.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Oza nodded, as she looked at a panel to the side of the
door. “Optical sensors. You’re not yet in the database but you will be”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The door slid open with a whooshing noise that he found
very, very funny. “…and I thought that it was only in the movies!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Oza looked confused.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Sorry, a 2020 joke!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">She nodded, gesturing for Daniel to leave the room. As they
walked along a white corridor, the silence became apparent. There wasn’t a
single noise to be heard. Even the floor seemed to dampen sound. Peace, quiet,
no hustle and bustle of the way things used to be. As they walked Oza moved her
hand to his, holding his hand. Daniel looked to his hand, immediately noticing
what had just happened, then up to Oza. He shrugged his shoulders, going with
the moment. Things would have changed.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">They reached the corridor’s end and, all at once, the look
upon his face fell to complete shock. At the exit appeared the city around the
both of them. Glistening, a shine filed paradise unlike anything he had ever
seen. “This is absolutely amazing!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Oza smiled, still holding his hand, “It is. In two hundred
years we have eradicated violence, educated our differences, oppressed
oppression, opened our minds and found a better way. There’s also no such thing
as hunger.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“How did all of that happen?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“We realised that we’re all different and that greed, money,
did not make anyway happy. It started with the mainstream media being
eradicated, politicians being removed, and a new order established that had the
best interests of the people.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Daniel couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He’d never
imagined a paradise from where and when he came from. The established order
permeated every single strand of life. It truly would have taken every single
person to change the ways of the world.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Oza squeezed his hand, gathering all of his attention.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Are you okay?” he asked.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“I am. This might be difficult to accept, but I’m also the
most compatible person for you!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“What are you trying to say… that you and I?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">She blushed slightly, “Yes. We have a scale for sexual
orientation. We’re no longer Male or Female. Sexism no longer exists as ‘gender’
no longer plays a part.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Daniel, looking confused, but open to any new possibilities,
moved himself to face her as he held her other hand. “What do you mean?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Oza stepped forward, closer to Daniel, as she continued,
“Within each of us beats a heart that knows no learned trait or designation. We
as people, partly formed of animal nature, are attracted to so many aspects of
another person, that the gender idiocy no longer needs to exist. I am
designated as F8M. I am a Female with hormones and the mental attraction of
eight out of ten, for males. You are a M9F. A Male that is firmly attracted to
a more ‘female’ form.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Daniel looked to the side, letting the information sink in,
“So, what would a M5M be?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Well, at that point the lines are still designated but the
number five can mean that the individual neither prefers Men or Women, but
possibly both.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Daniel nodded, realising that in his time, the lines of
colour, sex, race, as well as the lines upon a map, were often used to control,
manipulate, subjugate and oppress people. If this new way of thinking led to
freedom for all, the acceptance that a person simply wasn’t their defined and
instigated gender, then he was all for that freedom. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Oza leaned forward, kissing Daniel, as his entire body
responded to her touch. He pressed his lips to hers, his appreciation being
expressed within the moment. He couldn’t believe that this was happening, a new
way of thinking, an end to hunger, as well as whatever was about to happen.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Oza looked into his eyes, as the kiss ended. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“You should see what your aura can do, as well as what your
mind is capable of. We’ve been free from oppression for a very, very long time
and the moment we freed ourselves, humanity has accomplished, flourished and
progressed further than you could ever imagine!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Daniel looked out into the city, once again, taking in the
splendour and reverence of such a sight. He had, thankfully and finally, escaped.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /><br /></p><div style="text-align: center;">(Originally written 01.06.2020) Not proof read.</div><o:p></o:p><p></p>Damian Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01891554964149213015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1175656299872434541.post-995823783711586242022-08-19T19:40:00.000+00:002022-08-19T19:40:02.811+00:00Tree (Special!)<p style="text-align: justify;">Mother stirred the contents within the large, strangely
shaped, cauldron of random items. They’d not had a reasonable meal for a few
weeks, with the scraps seemingly running thin. The air, outside, was becoming far
too treacherous for older lungs to handle.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8LtRqZrKk9xCSiqL2sXCAOmCJ-kwW07Npy2C5po7UiHb5lWigz0MSCYd3ic1V4fhaygqeFOMg9CDNLPUUKuNXbWCGevLL2OBtO77yOSxNEXJgUpGQbCssqr4dG8Basawvm9MTE-NuI6yWfUApjBGHA15VZ-eZXETB_4NqwDrJ4wKhw_uewGnp7oo/s852/______________________________Tree0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="568" data-original-width="852" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8LtRqZrKk9xCSiqL2sXCAOmCJ-kwW07Npy2C5po7UiHb5lWigz0MSCYd3ic1V4fhaygqeFOMg9CDNLPUUKuNXbWCGevLL2OBtO77yOSxNEXJgUpGQbCssqr4dG8Basawvm9MTE-NuI6yWfUApjBGHA15VZ-eZXETB_4NqwDrJ4wKhw_uewGnp7oo/s320/______________________________Tree0.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>She smiled, her mind drifting away as it often did,
recalling the day she’d arrived to this sanctuary. Lost, mentally vacant, only
to find the care and consideration of others that become her whole world. She’d
initially been given the task of looking after the youngsters, for a few hours
a day, while the parents foraged for whatever they could find. It was a simple
task, an easy task, yet it afforded her the chance to find a new life meaning. The
children asked her question after question but, to her heart, she felt wanted
and useful. She missed the pods, her previous life, which eventually started to
drift away. A speck of thought within her memories.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Young smiles, tender voices, with her given name being that
of ‘Mother’. Moment by moment, her inner monologue become real words, actual
expressions filled with such care and warmth, that she’d even impressed
herself. At the age of seventy-two, being called, ‘Mother’, made her heart skip
and her energy return. She, once again, had a place to call her home. It wasn’t
much, but when you had nothing, the smallest of treasures could mean
everything. A heart, priceless, a kiss, timeless.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">She adored them, all of them, especially as she’d watched
all of the newcomers form bonds with ease. The lovers, the huggers, the
dreamers and the nightmare screamers, all finding calm under the tree that
seemed to reassure each of them. A new world. A different world and place to
call their own. Such a simple thing, a singular tree, but so important to the
many that had never actually seen a real, authentic tree before. She’d
initially found it quite odd, even fascinating, watching people hug the tree
and endlessly feel it’s tough bark against their skin. She found their actions
to be that of children with brand new toys.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Brie was her favourite, the bright eyed, tender loving, soft
hearted romantic that hadn’t yet experienced the loss and heartbreak associated
with many, many moments of life. She was always upbeat, caring, while also
having a special place for Mother within her thoughts. They’d bonded
immediately, despite Mother’s craggy old face. Brie had stated that Mother’s
lines were the art of years of struggle, the chaos and life lessons of time.
Mother, instead, would call it the lack of moisturiser and too much sun. Either
would do, as either suggestion was close to the truth.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Then, one day, Seb arrived. Mother knew that there was
something different about the man. Hardened, troubled, traumatised by what he’d
either seen, or done. Battle scared, his body covered with marks and memories
Upon his arrival, the man had stood in front of the tree for over thirty
minutes. His eyes had never seen such a wonderous spectacle. He’d said that
he’d never seen such a sight, a living, breathing, creation of nature that had
mostly been long forgotten. Trees were more or less extinct when he was born,
with Mother remembering a fair few that were held in long destroyed parks.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Mother recalled, that after those thirty minutes of standing
with an amazed gaze, he was then softened by another view. Brie. He’d watched
her appear from behind the tree, slowly, casually, drifting as she did. His
eyes found her, distracted for a second as he looked back to the tree, before
returning his view. His mouth had fallen open in amazement and, just as Mother
had noticed, a few other people had started laughing at they witnessed his
obvious attraction. It was, as she later realised, a dual love at first sight.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Mother continued stirring the pot, sighing, finding her drifting
thoughts comforting. She’d foraged for herself a few times, finding a few items
and, as today was a special day, simply wished to provide all of them a
beautiful, warming, tasty meal. After all, this was what a Mother should do,
would do, for the people that she loved more than anything else in life. She
glanced to her right, taking in the view of the glorious tree overhanging the
area, surrounded by the building’s concrete. They’d found a home. A home with a
very special life, afforded by a simple, timeless, tree.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">She closed her eyes, the weight of her actions returning to
haunt, her. She held onto the makeshift spoon, realising exactly what she’d
done. It was, at this moment in time, far, far too late to un-do what she’d set
in motion. She loved them, each of them, as they’d given her genuine emotion
and care without asking for anything in return. They’d afforded her a place to
call her own, a space within life to create something beautiful. Mother,
instead, chose to return to her old life. She’d chosen to live her remaining
days with comfort, warmth and a fresh set of clothing each and every single
day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She opened her eyes, glancing at
the tree, admitting to herself that mistakes, once made, were for life. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">What was done, was truly just that.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">----</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Daniel held the grip, steady, assured, keeping himself calm
and rested. The process, each time, exactly the same. His eyes, closed, listening
to the sounds around him. He could hear the rattling of the various metallic
items, the laughter from the squad in front of him, as well the wheel bearing
that would shortly need replacing. He’d been here on many, many occasions and
this would, hopefully, run like that clockwork operation that he aspired to.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He was methodical, studied, an authentic military man
through and through. He continued to listen, the roaring laughter nearly making
his own lips form a brief smile. They were a good bunch of crazy idiots, even
if he could liken them to uniformed thugs, psychos or dreamers. He knew that
none of their dreams would come true, but at least upon their final day, they’d
have tasted enough adrenaline to last their lifetimes. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">His fingers moved across the new ‘NMP’ badge emblazed onto
his uniform. Their new ideals and instructions being exactly the same as
before, but with a supposed new enthused vigour that equated to jack all. Same
job, different day. The ‘New Militarised Police’, doing what they do, the same
as always. He snapped away from his thoughts, as his arm band vibrated ever so
slightly, set to medium vibe, which immediately resulted with his entire
demeanour changing. This was it, time to do what they did best and, no matter
what happened, to certainly return home alive. He’d lost a few over the years.
Good people. Young, eager, mostly stupid, but full of ‘in your face’ ego.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He let go of the hand grip, as the Combi-vehicle came to a
stop. Each of the group, in front of Daniel, ceased whatever they were doing
and looked towards him. They knew when to listen, when to stop, when to shut
the hell up and when to do what they were told. This was regimental discipline
and, unlike the rest of the world’s fairy-based politics, he demanded nothing
less. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He glanced at each one of them in turn, showing them the
respect that they deserved, despite wanting to slap a few around the head. Each
of them had earned their place beside him. He wanted each of them to be his
equal, despite their skill set, as they all brought something different to the
team. As he selected a G36c from the rack, with a rotex three silencer, he
started to run through the standard drill.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Listen up. This is a basic seize and demo operation.
Nothing special. Watch your six, cover your second and most of all, raise those
eyes!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The six of them nodded, knowing exactly what, where and how
to take care of business. Daniel waited a few seconds, loading his belt with
spare mags, expecting some type of banter to start but, uncharacteristically,
none of them muttered a word. Raising an eyebrow, he knew that they had to have
a little fun before they stepped from the Combi.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Daniel started the conversation the only way he knew how…
insults, “Hey, unlike Henderson, try not to get your balls shot to shit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even you ladies!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Cassie laughed, “Heck, I’d better be extra careful as my
balls are bigger than all of em’!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Debs nudged Cassie, “Definitely bigger dicks!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Henderson, jokingly kicked the side of a bench, “You haven’t
seen mine ladies, it’s glorious!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Ha, I’ve seen it. It broke the zoom on my pod!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Fluck you both!” replied Henderson, grabbing his crotch and
moving around the contents.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Daniel wouldn’t change any of this, or any one of them. It
took time to create a team. A reliable, dependable, construct formed of many
individual parts. Just like the human body, all living, vital, doing what they
did. He didn’t want the absolute best performers, the brown-nosed trainees that
wanted to reach the sky, as they would soon find their limit. He wanted people that
could trust each other. When the shit hit the fan, you needed someone that
would stand with you, take a bullet, crawl until they could no longer move,
dragging your sorry backside out of the fire. The world was full of cowards,
which meant that you had to have the willing and able by your side.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">This was what he had, a team, a triangle that could topple,
fall, but get right back up and break you in two. If anything, even though he
might never admit it, he was proud of them. Even Henderson, who seemed to
constantly be fighting or trying to bed anything that moved. Debs and Cassie
were magnificent. They could never be compared to men, which he’d never do, as
they equalled and excelled at each opportunity. The other three, Rich, Dave and
Roberts, were the heavy hitters, with the brawn resting between their skulls,
often misunderstood. Each capable, each brutal, with all three consuming more
protein than Amrazon sold in a month.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The cabin turned red, the silence descending, as their
tactical G77 helmets descended around their heads. Within seconds a full
display appeared in front of each squad member’s eyes. The display provided a complete
auditory, oral, olfactory, as well as complete field of view of their intended
area. Hardly state of the art military grade tech, but they had what they had,
and they made it work. Daniel tapped against the small chest plate which, after
a second, expanded around his chest and back. This was quite new to the squad,
a polymer that absorbed shocks and brunt trauma, depending on their stance and
awareness of attack.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The door slid open, the air within the Combi replaced with a
putrid smell and taste of re-treated, recycled air. No matter how many times
they faced this situation, they simply did not acclimatise to the air. Daniel, being
the oldest, could recall a day when the air was something different, a time
long gone and mostly forgotten. He was a child when the big change took place.
The catastrophic, disastrous moment, when the very air they could breath,
became a foot note within the history books. Times changed. Trash was still
trash, orders were orders and the innocent, were no longer considered to even
exist. This, all of this, was about a small, simple tree.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">When he’d first read the directive, he asked himself if the
orders were authentic. He questioned them, which is something that, in all his
years, he’d never done before. His remarks, however, were expected and met with
the simple answer of, ‘Air is money’. Humanity had to work for clean, premium,
fresh air. He could not question his orders, he would not stand aside from them,
which meant that he would have to do what any loyal soldier would do.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">----</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Brie, sat next to one of the large exposed roots, her space
away from her habitat, snuggled into the warm blanket that sat above the
beautiful earth. She loved this place, her special little spot, where she could
nearly hide but, at the same time, see the comings and goings of all the people
around her. She loved them all, this small group of hers, the rag tag ensemble
of nothings. She didn’t like the term, ‘nothings’, but that’s what the media
called them before they’d escaped their previous lives. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">She touched the side of her neck, reminding herself,
remembering, the time when freedom meant everything to them. The outcasts,
barely able to pay for their air, despite being surrounded by all of the
technical marvels and advancements the modern day could provide. The screens,
the Pods, the Combis, all costing next to nothing, while the air they breathed,
costing more than life could consume. She knew, even from an early age, that
she was trapped. They, were all trapped, until they broke free from their imposed
slavery.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">She closed her eyes, remembering the violence when the ‘nothings’
were forced out of their homes, no longer affording the rising tax upon their
very living lungs. She felt the tears rise within her, as she embraced and recalled
the anguish and abandonment. That was then, and this very moment that she found
herself within, was more than beautiful. She’d found a paradise. A tranquillity
through such simplicity that the very ideal, to her previous self, would seem
alien or even a wild fantastical dream.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">She smiled, knowing that she was no longer a slave to the
conglomerate overlords. With her breathing pod removed, she was completely and
utterly free. She used to feel ashamed, worthless, her own self-worth reduced
to the fact that she could not afford the basic fee for even a podison of air. She’d worked hard, every single day and all of
the hours presented, with the life-giving air being shared between six of them.
It wasn’t enough, as two of her family members had died from oxygen deprivation
poisoning. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">She pushed aside the thoughts, knowing that they’d return,
despite the utopia surrounding her. Scars. Broken love. Abandoned moments. No
matter the escape, the memories remained, haunting, taunting, reminding her
that some trauma, even when the moment had faded, would always remain within. She
looked at the clump of daisies in front of her, smiling, as she picked a few to
make a necklace. She adored the serenity of this place, as well as the peace of
these moments.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">As she knitted the daisies together, glancing to her side,
she noticed movement, “I can see you!” she whispered, with her smile growing
bigger, expressed with her playful tone and words. Seb bounced from around the
large tree root, falling to his knees to rest against upon his legs. He leant
forward, his flirtatious nature in full view.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Hello beautiful you, how is this day treating you?” he
asked, with his blue eyes beaming as they usually did. The glow from the
sunlight above, through the various windows, always seemed to provide that
shimmering look to his face. She adored him, even loved him, despite not yet
admitting her feelings. He was a rogue, that scoundrel, the flirty naughty person
that her Mother had warned her about many, many years previous. She didn’t
care, especially when he said, did what he did and held her close. Whenever he
was near, she felt his warmth, with his little side smirks and taunts teasing
her. He was, if she were honest, the man that she’d waited for her entire life.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“My day has suddenly darkened!” she replied, sticking out
her bottom lip.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Oh no, why would that be?” he quizzed, with a solemn look
upon his face, as he moved his bottom lip forward to match hers.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“I was about to finish this beautifully crafted daisy
necklace, and then someone stopped me!”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“How can I make it up to you?” he said, his smile beaming
and eyes softening as his head leaned to the side a little.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Well, I think…” Before she could finish, he moved forward
and kissed her. A small kiss, gentle, reminding her of why she missed him so
much. As was often the case, that small kiss turned into a full embrace that
would shame most people. He was intense, at the right time, understanding when
needed, as well as a great big pain in her backside when he was being his
ever-childish self. This place, this man, all seemed to be the gift that life
could and should give to every single one of them.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">She adored the innocence, the calm state of mind that the
tree surrounding them afforded, as the kiss slowed to a more emotionally connective,
embracing tempo. As they snuggled into the blanket, looking up to the mighty
behemoth of a tree, they both felt the connection to something larger than the
both of them. The very earth, the very aura surrounding them, breathing life
without the toxic, evasive, disgusting air tax that had been thrust upon every
single living human being upon the planet.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">To breath air, to breath real uncycled air, to the both of
them, all of them, was the finest natural luxury that life could afford. They
felt blessed, free, spiritually and emotionally lightened, with the simplest,
most transient moment, never being taken for granted. This was home. The very
magic of life giving them nothing but peace. This place, apparently, was once
called a shopping mall. A location that many people would visit to buy things
and to chat. She liked the idea, since local gatherings were now outlawed in
the shining cities that they’d all be castigated from. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">She looked at him, as his soppy, silly eyes, reaching into
her create to make butterflies within her stomach. He ran his fingers along her
arm, taking her hand in his, smiling with that calm smile he’d perfected. It
was time. It was the time. She’d waited so long, over the past few months, with
that time waiting for neither of them. To be pod locked was one thing, but to
actually decide who you loved, was another freedom that she intended to
brandish with all of her strength. She’d rehearsed the three words many, many
times, despite her fear crushing her motivation to dust. She could do this, she
would do this, under the great tree of life. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">She smiled, knowing, trusting, that the silly fool in front
of her would hold her forever. She knew that he was a good man, with hidden
suffering and darkness just behind those tender eyes, but that was okay as she
was the exact same. The shielded heart, the wondering imagination, the yearning
to be held as if the world was about to end and, more. She wanted more. All of
him. Every single part of him. She wanted to literally wrap herself around him
and never let go. Despite the fear, ignoring the suffering and vile nature of
the world, she believed and never wished to do otherwise. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">She smiled again, as he looked at her with an almost uncanny
awareness of what was being rehearsed within her mind,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Seb, I…”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Before her words could escape, Mother appeared in the middle
of the chamber, proclaiming with her sternest voice, for all of them to listen.
Brie had only heard her speak this way on two other occasions and neither were
pleasant. Whatever was happening was serious, a moment that they might never
forget. Everyone stopped what they were doing, whatever they were carving or
creating, turning to face Mother.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Mother braced herself, rallied the energy to tell them of
what was to come. She knew that she’d given each of them away, thrown aside
their love, to return to her previous life. She wouldn’t tell them of her
actions as, instead, she simply wished for them to continue with their freedom
in whatever way they could find. “They’re coming. Leave everything behind. This
place and this tree are lost to us. I’m sorry. I’m so very, very sorry.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Brie’s heart fell from her chest. This place, these moments,
were her life. Her mind failed to grasp the information, as the others rapidly
dashed backwards and forwards. She watched Mother walk across the room to stand
in front of them. She nodded to Seb, his facial expression immediately changing.
He knew what he had to do and, above all, what this moment meant. Brie held his
arm as he started to stand, “Where are you going, we should leave?!”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Seb knelt beside her, kissing her forehead, “I’m afraid that
I have to say goodbye!”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“I don’t understand,” proclaimed Brie, with utter confusion
and pain within her voice, “we’re supposed to be together?”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Seb glanced at Mother, who immediately understood the
situation and what to do. Seb stood, stepping away from Brie, as Mother wrapped
her arms around her. “I don’t understand?” asked Brie, with pain and fear
within her words.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Mother smiled, running her hand through Brie’s hair, “My
child. There are moments of great beauty within this world. There are people of
grace that can shine through such suffering. That would be you, my Dear. Then,
there are people that are born to protect and fight. Seb is such a person.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Brie, partially understanding Grand Mother’s words, felt the
tears appear upon her eyes. She watched as Seb walked across the chamber, as he
turned to smile, his sad eyes eventually falling from hers and then, she
whispered the words, “I love you”, under her breath. Mother grabbed Brie’s
hand, more or less lifting her from the ground. They both ran around the tree,
rushing towards the small gap made within the chamber walls. Their exit. Their
escape. Their tunnel to whatever would greet them next.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Seb tried to push away the emotional weight surrounding him.
He’d found innocence, despite his many sins upon the world. He’d found a place
of freedom, a luxury seldom afforded to a person of his worth. He’d been
crushed many, many times, only to find a saviour within the soft, tender smile
of another. He cursed himself. He knew that he was an idiot to think that the
world would offer him a happy ever after. She was, to him, the most beautiful
creature. He’d presented himself to her with such childlike glee, which
surprised him, as he would hardly ever call himself soft. She’d found
something, within him, unlocking a gentle heart from within a simple giant. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He shook his head, realising that the moment was now gone.
He would do what he was trained to do. Protect. This was his life before, this
would have been his life after and right now, it was the best he could do for
her. He knew that they’d send a squad, lightly armed, so there was a chance of
surviving. He also pushed those thoughts away from his thinking. ‘Fight to die’,
was the way he was taught. He had everything to live for but, in order to save
what he loved, he knew that he had to give everything he could, even his life,
to protect them. No remorse, no emotion, just cold hard brute tactical
violence. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He entered the long code, then opened the large locker in
front of him. Within sat a case, with the designation X12e scribed across the
top. He actually thought that he’d never see it again. He punched the locker,
again cursing the events that were about to unfold. The world was not fair, the
world didn’t care about his feelings or emotion, as they were all equally, disgustingly,
equal when it came to the mercy of fate.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Removing his clothes, he stepped into the fibre woven nano-pod
suit. He’d fight, he’d take the punches and the knocks, but the ballistics
would be ricocheted away by the multi-vector triangulated force shields. This
suit, upon detecting incoming high velocity weapon fire, would create a
vectored square upon multiple locations around his body. He was, in effect,
impervious to most weapon fire.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He’d always loved how the suit looked. Completely black,
with protrusions every five inches, to create the orange vectors. He didn’t
enjoy violence but knew what had to be done. With the suit fitted, he walked
from the small room, back to the main chamber. Silence greeted him. The glow,
from the surrounding lamps, as well as various skylights, highlighted the
tree’s beauty. He admired the very aura of the tree, making it seem almost translucence
in nature. He felt his neck itch, a little, reminding him of the day when he
had his own air-pod removed. It had always felt wrong, despite being with him
since birth while, this place, had only ever felt completely perfect. Fresh,
free, beautiful air. He stood by the tree, placing a hand upon the stern bark. Closing
his eyes, he breathed deeply, slowly, understanding that this might be the last
time that he’d have a chance to do such a thing. This was a dream, within a
life filled with taxed slavery and idiotically tempestuous marketing entities. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He smiled, remembering the days when he believed the taxation
to be a sensible option, that the very air they breathed, albeit manufactured
due to the world’s greed and consumption, should be taxed and regulated like
every other facet of their very lives. Nothing, absolutely nothing, upon this
world, was free. Not even the air. As he’d just found, even love had a price to
pay.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Thankfully, eventually, on one stupid long-lost day, he’d seen
his idiotically blinded nature revealed to him through the eyes and smile of
another. The world was what it was. His ideals were what they were. But then,
just then from within the blink of an eye, everything changed.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He engaged the suit’s HUD, enacting the start-up sequence,
as his very aura energy became the suit’s power source. He had thirty minutes
before his energy could no longer sustain the suit’s requirements and to him,
that was more than enough time for all of the others to escape. Now or never.
Today was the day. He glanced towards the small opening, wishing that he could
follow them, be with her, but instead, all he could do, was recall hearing the
words under her breath as he walked away, saying, ‘I love you’.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">----</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Seb stood perfectly still, legs slightly apart, arms
crossed, waiting for the inevitable. Things might work out for the best, the
resulting calm being afforded to common sense, but he knew that the likelihood
of that happening would be slim to none. He listened, the only noise being the
echo of silence. He loved this place, adored every single inch, wishing that time
had provided him a different outcome. Even, a new ending to the chosen path of
guided life.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Over his existence, he’d accomplished more than he’d ever
dreamed of, despite the violence being something that he’d often been proud of
and even enjoyed. The next second, not so much. He’d hurt people, ended them,
taken the very life of another with his bare hands. He knew, more than most,
that if it came down to him or them, it would always be the other person. If
someone tried to take your life away, then take their life instead. The simple
math of life, that equation that seldom appeared within a normal moment.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He felt sorrow rise within him, the remorse, only to remove
the feelings, to return to the last few months. This place was a spectre of
beauty. Haunting, the splendour pouring through the very roots of something as
simple as a tree. He’d never have thought, not even for a second, that he’d find
the person he’d found in such a place as this. The world worked in many, many
mysterious ways, but at the same time, the cold and indiscriminate ways of
nature chilled him to his very bones. Life blossomed from whatever corner it
could find yet, extinguish the very same life within moments. He was the same.
He’d found someone that he wished to create life with, a life, but in the very
next breath, he gave all of it away to simply, easily, stand in the near dark.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He knew that his life would always be given for another, the
others, as his training demanded nothing less. That sacrifice, the blood, all
of the pain for a moment’s glory and triumph. He’d laugh, cry, scream or even smash
his fist against a wall if, for a second, he could actually feel something.
Anything. He’d felt his very blood rush, when faced with the warmth of Brie’s beautiful
words, actions, deeds and smile. If he could un-do whatever made him the way he
was, he would. He’d often question his motives, despite being self-sacrificing
and honourable, as the human race was statistically the most selfish disease to
spread across the planet and universe.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He cleared his mind, holding onto the image of her face,
wishing, wanting, desperately needing to simply turn and run to her. It was too
late. It was done. Committed. Sacrificed. The path ahead clear, as clear as the
air surrounding him. They wanted the tree, which meant that they’d have to go
through him. Either way, he knew the outcome and his last few moments would
ensure that Brie would make it away from this place.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Daniel stepped from the Combi, tasting the acidic air,
bitter, the tang bringing a grimacing look to his face. He hated coming out
here, no matter the reason. The others did what they usually did, the clockwork
procession enacting with near grace filled movements. He looked at the building
in front of him, which was once a place of gathering. He remembered such places
from when he was a small child. He searched for the description, recalling his mother’s
long-lost voice, as the words ‘shopping mall’ appeared within his thoughts. Places
such as these vanished during the big quakes. A time of great struggle for
Humanity, where the very planet itself wished to throw them all from the very
surface.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Daniel crouched, opening a black case. Within sat a small
drone, its controller, as well as a heads-up display. He removed the contents,
closing the case, as he placed the drone onto the ground. Henderson slipped on the
HUD, taking the controller as the drone flew into the air. A few seconds escaped,
as Rich complained about how the air tasted funny. None of them appreciated
being here, but they had their given task and until completed, none of them
would be returning.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Henderson, pressing the various buttons, quickly and easily
ascertained the required information. He pressed the homing button, removed the
HUD and nodded to Daniel, “One non-mover inside, next to the target!”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">They had a go. Daniel knew that whoever was inside, would be
covering the escape of the others which, to him, wasn’t even remotely what they
had to focus upon. It was the tree. Just the tree. Daniel nodded to Henderson,
who quickly gestured to the others to move forward. They quickly covered the
ground between the Mall and the Combi, as they stopped at the Mall’s entrance. Cassie
rolled a small round pod towards the doors, checking the area for any possible
traps. Ten seconds expired, as Cassie nodded that the area seemed to be clear.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Slowly, like a well-oiled machine, they worked their way
into the complex. By the numbers, with ease, as well as all corners covered. They
could advance a little faster than suggested, due to there only being one
person inside. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Seb heard them, the inevitable coming for him, taunting him.
His adrenaline started to rise. His nerve endings firing, ready, expecting
nothing less than violence. It always went the same way, no matter the words,
actions or descriptive punches. He wished that the world worked in different
ways, a more eloquent understanding, but that wasn’t the case Heck, if everyone
would engage their heart, at least, things would, could and should actually
change. He shook his head slightly, not believing his very thoughts. He could
see them and, they could now see him.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Seb pushed aside his emotions, engaging the logic within. He
preferred this avenue, with violent anger being the secondary option. He had to
try. “We don’t have to do this! You could just leave and say that you burned
everything to the ground. Please, I do not wish to do this!”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Daniel heard the words, immediately appreciating the token
gesture for what it was. He also heard the person’s authenticity but,
regardless of the expression, he couldn’t change the outcome. Stepping into a
small amount of sky light, he addressed the person in front of him.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“By the power presented within Article 247b, within the
charter of the ‘New USoA’, please desist your action and stand aside!”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Seb, reaching behind him, lowered his head, sighing,
expecting nothing less. He muttered a few words under his breath, understanding,
realising, that his ideals would, one day, get him killed. “I tried,” he said,
the disappointment obvious from the tone of his voice, “but you people never,
ever listen.” His hand, now placed within the Orb holder, flexed a little. It
wasn’t a brutal weapon, meant more for crowd control, but his vow to protect
this place meant that he couldn’t viciously hurt another. He could have chosen
many options, with this was the most suitable to get his point across.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Seb, from the corner of his eye, noticed one of them moving,
trying to flank him. He quickly, fluidly, raised his right arm and, as his
fingers let go of the orb, pushed forward. The orb, the ball, flew forward with
incredible speed, smashing straight into the side of Rich’s protective head armour.
Daniel’s eyes followed Rich, as he flew across the mall, his head banging into
a metal shutter, as the ball returned to Seb. The game set, the match about to
begin, he knew that all hell was about to let loose upon his world.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Daniel watched as Rich flew across the mall. He’d not seen a
weapon, like the one in front of him, for a very, very long time. It would, in
most cases, be considered ancient. It was used within baseball games, albeit a
softer orb, but hardly a lethal weapon. He closed his mouth after his initial
confusion hit, quickly acclimatising to the odd circumstance in front of him.
The tree, just behind the combative, was all he was here for. He glanced across
to Henderson who, at that moment, was looking at Daniel with his face armour
open, silently stating ‘wtf’ with his lips. Daniel engaged his pod com and,
within seconds, expressed his desire to see the person ahead ground into the
very mall’s surface. Cassie and Debs, reversed their direction and headed off
behind Daniel, Henderson, Dave and Roberts.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Daniel nodded at Roberts who, immediately, ran towards the
combative. Non-lethal force, as each civilian based operation dictated, at
first, being his current option. He reached the individual, Seb, firing his
hand stunner. The bolts, just as they seemingly hit Seb, were met with two
orange, glowing, flat energy shields. As the bolts fell to the floor, Roberts
bridged the gap and threw a punch. Seb pushed aside Roberts’ arm and, within a
second, raised his foot to place it against Roberts’ upper leg, raising Seb
into the air slightly. Roberts didn’t even have time to comprehend what
happened as Seb placed his left hand onto his head and, with the weight of Seb’s
suit, pushed Roberts’ head into the ground as his legs flew into the air. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Roberts’ facial armour took the brunt of the damage, which
didn’t stop him from being knocked out cold. Seb ran sideways, firing the ball
straight towards Dave’s mid-section. Dave moved but, as the ball struck his
side, it still sent him spinning. He flew backwards, a few ribs breaking and a
leg shattering, as he smashed into a cement wall.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Daniel couldn’t believe what was happening, his unit being
taken down with ease. “Live fire engaged!” he barked, as he felt a small amount
of anger reach into his soul. Henderson, crouched on one knee, flipped the
safety, targeted, then fired. The bullets hit the target, as his satisfaction
rose from within his armoured enclosed headpiece. The feeling within Henderson fell
flat, as the flashes of orange, deflected each of his rounds into the
surrounding structure. The combative had a shield.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Henderson looked across, again, to Daniel, shrugging his
shoulders. “He’s using an x12p suite. Fuckers bullet proof!” retorted Daniel. The
both of them, silent, thought of their options until, after a few seconds, Daniel
recalled such a suit being used many years previous, “Henderson, get to the
Combi. Bring back magazine 443. Lock and key!” Nodding, Henderson hightailed away
from Daniel, not quite knowing what the heck ‘lock and key’ meant. Either way,
he’d get the job done.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Seb exhaled, breathing in slowly, trying to lower his heart
rate. It had been a while since he’d had this much cardio and it showed. He
watched as Henderson approached him, slowly, weapon stowed behind his back. He
knew that whoever they were, they were out of options. Although the x12p was
one of the long-forgotten weapons of the near past, it still held itself
together when based with conventional weaponry. He stood his ground, as he stood
in front of the tree.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Seb felt his compassion, his emotion, rise within him. “Your
men will live. I did try to warn you! Please, let this go. It’s one tree!”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Daniel sized the man standing in front of him. Medium bulk,
athletic, probably ex-military, “You know that we cannot do that,” he replied,
“you know that orders are orders!”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Oh, I know they are, but it’s not that we’re hurting anyone
here!”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“If it’s only one tree, then why don’t you be the one to
walk away?”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div style="text-align: justify;">Seb laughed, as he kicked aside a stone with his foot, “You
see a tree? I see freedom. I see a resource that has been destroyed, burnt,
desecrated, controlled and then sold. I see something free, that has been used
to control us!”</div>
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Daniel had heard all of this before, a few times, when the
big change arrived. The marketing companies, the big businesses that remained,
made the very air into a commodity overnight. He appreciated the argument, even
understood and agreed, but there were people that made decisions and then,
there were the many that simply did as they were told. He needed to buy time, a
few more minutes at least.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“and?” replied Daniel, the reply obviously showing a
disregard for Seb’s words.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“And?” Seb grimaced with disgust, “Since the very day you were
born your parents have paid to feed you, cloth you and move you through life. You
then pay taxes for the rest of your adult years. Then, THEN, the very air is
taxed! Air is free.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Daneil felt the anger and rage finally rise within him. He
simply wanted the pain to end, the fighting, the wounds, the memories of
failure and violence to fade. He took one step forward, with anger in his
voice.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“FREE!”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Daniel nodded, appreciating the point of view, still
stalling for time, “and what would you suggest we do?”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Outside, Henderson reached the Combi, practically jumping
through the widening door, not allowing a single second to escape his given
task. He rushed to the front of the vehicle, reaching the ammo section. “Lock
and key?” he said, over and over again. Cursing, a few select words in between.
His eyes scanned up, then down, each column of drawers. Finally, to the right,
he caught sight of a drawer with a Lock and key on the front. “Sweet Baby
Jesus!” he exclaimed, as he opened the drawer to locate mag443. He pushed aside
a few items and then, right there, sat 443. He smiled, kissed the air, turned
and ran from the Combi.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Seb continued his tirade, “Water, food, clothes, shelter,
warmth and then air. What next? Each of us fined and scolded if we cannot pay
for our very emotions? Please, leave the
tree and go!”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Henderson noticed the two red flashes to the side of his
HUD, the signal that Henderson was ready to take the shot. In another world, another
time, he would consider leaving the tree behind. If he was a better person, a
person that cared for such things outside of the constrained outlined world he
lived within. If he wasn’t on mission, he would smile at the thought. This
tree, this place, was the very last rogue location. All the other trees,
contained within mass manufacturing plants. The air, fed to those that could
pay the price for such a luxury. This
was the world to which they all agreed with. To do nothing, was to agree.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Daniel stepped back a few paces, his face armour rising to
cover his mouth, as he engaged the internal com, “Cassie, Debs? You in
position?” Two red lights flashed. “Okay, Henderson, fire upon my command.
Cassie, Debs, fire the moment I fire!” Daniel raised his hand, pressing the
small button to the back of his head armour. His eyes flicked to the side,
allowing his head armour to retreat.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Look, I agree with you. There is no reason for us to tear
down this tree, to hurt the people that are free, but that’s not the way the
world works. You will be silenced, even if you have no voice. That’s what we’re
here to do!”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Seb, out of options, raised his right hand and watched as
the orb started to spin, “Then you leave me with little choice…”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Now!” shouted Daniel, as Cassie and Debs stepped from the
shadows, weapons unleashing their content at full auto. Seb’s orange shield flashed
to life, two patches appearing upon his back, to his left and right side.
Henderson, raising his weapon as his head armour returned to cover his face,
also firing at full auto. Another shield appeared, ricocheting the bullets away
from Seb. Daniel stepped to the side, lowering to a knee, “Henderson!”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Henderson breathed, relaxed, taking another micro-second to
locate the perfect target. Mid body, the chest area, just next to Seb’s heart.
He lightly pressed the trigger and, with an almost slow-motion effect, his HUD
slowed his view of events. He watched as the slug flew forward, a bullet
slightly longer than anything he’d seen. As it moved, the bullet split into
five separate slices.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Seb stepped back, just a step, as something hit his chest.
He looked down to see the orange glow, protecting him. His eyes focused through
the shadows, finding a sliver of light. He could see the four small objects
drilling into the shield, with a fifth object at the centre. He opened his
mouth, knowing exactly what was about to happen. His suit, able to deflect
multiple bullet impacts, could have small, weakened areas depending on the
current situation. The bullets, hitting his rear, from both sides, as well as
the bullets from his front, would weaken the distributed power.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Henderson re-located his sight, firing another two times,
realising what he was firing. The bullet slices hit Seb, another two orange
squares appearing. A second expired as he, with his last breath, watched the
first bullet’s middle slice move past the orange energy shield. He felt the
bullet enter his chest, his sternum cracking, the very breath being removed
from both lungs. He heard the small explosion, before he felt the pain. Blood
appeared from his mouth, as he fell backwards. He’d breath, if he still had a trachea
to do so. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Daniel raised his arm, as the others stopped firing. It was
done. Over with. He turned, walking away from Seb, his very presence no longer
even being a factor within his life. Seb, to Daniel, was a minor inconvenience
in order to get to his chosen goal. The tee. Henderson walked up to Seb,
looking into his eyes, nodding ever so slightly with a modicum of respect for
what Seb had tried to do. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Seb felt the pain leave his body, life no longer allowing
his consciousness to remain. His mind flashed, his thoughts screaming, as he
focused upon the overhanging branches. The purity, the beauty of being able to
live as he’d lived, for the shortest of times, filling his last thoughts with
peace. He’d smile, if he even remembered how to do so. His thoughts started to
fade, as her face appeared just in front of his eyes. He heard the words, he
felt the emotion, the moment of ‘I love you’ warming whatever was left of his
being. The light faded, the moment done, as he left the living and escaped the
world.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Daniel looked at the tree, as Henderson, Cassie and Debs
joined him. He glanced to the left, accessing a secondary menu, checking upon Rich,
Dave and Roberts. All green, despite their injuries and current state. He
looked down as the menu vanished, once again filling his view with the tree. He
pressed the armour button, flicking his eyes, as his head armour opened. He
breathed in, a full, longing, healthy breath. They all stood still, admiring
such a creation, the natural nature of such a spectacle that they’d only seen
as children, or from a text pod. It was, to each of them, beauty beyond their
understanding. A symbol of freedom.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Daniel turned and walked away, turning his back, from the
very last known tree. The very singular remaining symbol of freedom.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Burn it down!”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Originally written 06.04.2020. Mostly proof read. :)</p><p></p>Damian Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01891554964149213015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1175656299872434541.post-34561486256029082932022-08-13T16:24:00.000+00:002022-08-13T16:24:08.672+00:00Harmony (F2R)<p style="text-align: justify;">The gangway touched the planet’s surface, the gentle, mild
thud bringing such a realisation to each of their minds. A new planet,
unexplored, not yet tainted by outsiders. They knew the rules, with the usual
checks being implemented, as first contact was always a relatively precarious
adventure. In this case, as far as they knew, the habitational animals were all
lower forms of life.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg38w8dXLaOdjV_FkdmifjhqaAPIjh1pd0lMNQtBHpdRIdFDgz-QSXsXsRPtoJNnHvJGaDhiq84LHlp5I8w-cnH7rNrLNhqQXn3b1nC8L0RDizGcikTz7HRBPP3AGYVnZlDSM7mkz84awRH1ZZFzr0cwKoNZ6hDBGA3RqNFqflEoiiKmGf2ib4gTtw/s748/262425-planet-space-748x468.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="468" data-original-width="748" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg38w8dXLaOdjV_FkdmifjhqaAPIjh1pd0lMNQtBHpdRIdFDgz-QSXsXsRPtoJNnHvJGaDhiq84LHlp5I8w-cnH7rNrLNhqQXn3b1nC8L0RDizGcikTz7HRBPP3AGYVnZlDSM7mkz84awRH1ZZFzr0cwKoNZ6hDBGA3RqNFqflEoiiKmGf2ib4gTtw/s320/262425-planet-space-748x468.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Selena couldn’t stand that form of thinking as, to her mind,
all forms of life existed upon the same level of creation. Free will, free
form, able to whatever their function defined for them. Simon, on the other
hand, standing in front of her with his hand resting upon his side firearm, saw
everything as a possible threat. Nigel, stood next to Simon, was the usual pessimistic
man-child that disliked, corrupted, ridiculed and malformed whenever he could.
A motley crew of three.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">They all moved forward, one standard foot in front of the
other, cautious as usual. She’d heard the stories, especially what happened on
Rigel 3 all those years previous. A guy nicknamed ‘Shark’ had stood on the tail
of a Primerium land zipper and regretted it. They found pieces of his body over
a two-mile radius. Caution was, in her mind, key.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">She felt her feet finally press against the planet’s surface.
Immediately, from within her, she felt a certain calm, an elegant furrow of
pleasing emotion making her heart seemingly glow. She’d never felt such
stillness before, her interest instantly peaking, as she removed a scanner from
her side satchel. The gentle buzz of animals, all around them, seemed to add to
the relaxation within.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The other two, walking forward a few metres, started to
annoy each other. Their words faded away into the distance as she concentrated upon
the readings produced by the scanner. Graphs and stats appeared in front of her
eyes, her mind consciously attempting to understand the feelings rising within
her. She glanced to her side, as a small flying creature, the size of a
butterfly, made its way to a colourful flower. She watched as the creature
collected, what she presumed, was pollen. The process of life, right in front
of her eyes. Then, from behind her, she felt a slight nudge. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Turning, she stiffened slightly, as an animal the size and
shape of a medium sized dog, looked up at her. She knelt, knowing full well
that the situation could escalate at any second, but within her she felt safe,
secure, relaxed at the unfolding events. She slowly raised her hand, with
outstretched, flat fingers. Gently, she placed her hand under the creature’s
chin and then, with a smile, gently rubbed with her fingers. The animals face
softened even more, as its eyelids closed ever so slightly, as a hind leg moved
to scratch its side.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">She laughed a little, realising that some things never
changed. Dogs, cats, whatever this was in front of her, all beautiful and
endearing to a heart such as hers. From behind, she heard a familiar sound and,
as she moved her upper body around to stop the event, she realised that it was far
too late. Simon, weapon pointed at the animal, fired. She heard a whimper; the
animals body falling to its side and then silence. She turned back to the
creature, her sorrow, anguish and emotional distress apparent upon her face.
The innocence, gone. The moment, senseless.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">She placed a hand upon the creature’s face, her emotions
expressing the regret of the event, as the life escaped its body. She pulled
her hand back quickly, as she witnessed some sort of essence, spirit, or maybe
even a soul, move from the creature’s body. She’d never seen anything like this
before, as she regained her mind of science. She lifted the scanner, pressed a
selection of buttons and, as suspected, the realisation of this place hit her
mind.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">A second escaped as her thoughts bellowed through her mind and
at that moment, she realised something. The gentle hum, the creatures around
them, had stopped. Silence. Bleak, unadulterated silence. The calm within her
suddenly sensed the complete change in emotional vibration, her eyes looking
for any sign of movement.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Get back to the ship!” she exclaimed to Nigel and Simon.
Without question, also sensing the change, they immediately did as requested.
Their aggression had to be removed, as their very energy was not suitable for
such a place. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">From all around her, animal appeared, hundreds upon hundreds
of animals of all shapes and sizes. She rested upon her folded legs, realising
that the situation in front and all around her was unavoidable. Her scanner
beeped and, as she glanced down, the realisation struck her. Her imagination,
her bewilderment, all joined together as her thoughts gathered and understood the
planet’s frequency. Five hundred and twenty-eight hertz. The frequency of love.
The equilibrium of peace and harmony, the very planet’s energy resting and
creating the feeling of love and connection. A pure emotion, not tainted by
human selfishness or any other trait. Everything upon the planet was
emotionally aligned.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">She engaged her own emotions, realising that events could
escalate. Her sorrow, the regret for what had just happened, her love for all
creatures, rose within her. Her chest glowed with emotional clarity, with her
soul glowing with radiant vibrance and colour. She placed her hand onto the
deceased animals face, expressing the loss within her, the sadness echoing her
thoughts into the world. Her vibration, her very frequency, matched their own.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">As a moment passed, a selection of animals leant against
her, connecting with her essence, as two other creatures carried away the
lifeless vessel in front of Selena. The moment, gentle. The loss, all but real.
She felt them, experienced the flow of energy, embracing her very essence and
purpose. She felt a part of herself drift, the connectivity arriving to her
energy points, as her mind quickly snapped her back to reality.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The savage nature of man, the brutal fear of anything other
than what they knew, resounded within her. This place was a pure bastion, beautiful,
peaceful and, most of all, out of bounds for her kind. Despite the resources
the planet would provide, she had no intention of allowing such a place to be
desecrated. She tapped the screen of her scanner, as the animals slowly
disbanded, the gentle hum returning to normal. She scrolled through the options
until, finally, tapping the word ‘quarantined’.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">She would not, never, ever, allow this place of beauty to be
destroyed due to the whims of man, machine and greed. She realised that her
judgement, of course, was compromised, but such beauty, peace and calm had to
have a place and if it was to be this one planet, she would accept that
conclusion. She closed her eyes, as she stretched out her arms, once again,
feeling the peace and love all around her. The unity, energy and calm, to which
she’d never, ever, experienced before.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">This place, this planet, deserved a suitable name and as her
mind flowed with the beauty of such a love, a single word reached her lips and,
as she opened her eyes, heart, soul and mind, one word appeared. This word, the
expression of feeling, was harmony.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p>Damian Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01891554964149213015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1175656299872434541.post-44673768375714433362022-08-13T11:05:00.000+00:002022-08-13T11:05:15.499+00:00Shallow<p style="text-align: justify;">Daniel studied the plant, knowing, realising, just how
shallow he was within. He simply, easily, just adored the shape and look of the
thing. It curved at just the correct angle, displayed such colours to warm a
heart and far, far more. He looked upon most things in life the exact same way.
The depth, not important. The worth, hardly given a thought.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6r7mYU8bbjVtg7pISeZDityDQZwGbbi8JYAqlF0gQBLSdmMoHWl1ykXMBLbPjARmOqTHhM09SI6JjYH3BYuZfKhlqLShy7QeDaNQaQ7Yw_XQ6K8Q7f-2Qi9jqXdI5N8GsHwPDZm9wDOIzoKSE0sf0aXZYhvt8MVF-QoCINhrTwXVVU9CmZMEKQV4/s864/________________________________________Shallow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="864" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6r7mYU8bbjVtg7pISeZDityDQZwGbbi8JYAqlF0gQBLSdmMoHWl1ykXMBLbPjARmOqTHhM09SI6JjYH3BYuZfKhlqLShy7QeDaNQaQ7Yw_XQ6K8Q7f-2Qi9jqXdI5N8GsHwPDZm9wDOIzoKSE0sf0aXZYhvt8MVF-QoCINhrTwXVVU9CmZMEKQV4/s320/________________________________________Shallow.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">The delectable delights of life, the clothes, the look, the grandeur
and surface level of it all, soothed his inner voice. Sure, he knew that it was
all transitory, that fleeting feeling, but his voice and expressions regraded
such things as an imperative.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He cared not for the essence of the plant, painting, or
music playing in front of him, just as he cared not for any individual unless
they were also a plentifully, splendidly looking person. Beauty was, above all,
the fashion of his view. He felt beauty, owned beauty, whilst denying the fact
that eventually most beauty fades.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He’d met people with beautiful personalities, but that would
always play second fiddle to the external. He’d met people that displayed such
energy that his very breath was taken from him, only to, seconds later, be
returned as they realised his vapid nature.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">His staff, all beautiful individuals, obviously hated his
ideals and nature, but that didn’t matter when showcasing the latest party for
his fashionably extended friends list. He also appreciated that they, more or
less, also couldn’t stand him. Beauty, vanity, were all strings within the
beautifully presented bows of life. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He smiled, tilting his head ever so slightly to the left, as
he leaned forward. He glanced along the flower’s stem, noting a slight ripple
effect. “What is that?” he asked, knowing that his decision was already made.
Daniel’s au pair stepped forward, clearing his throat before he replied.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Sir, the ripples are from earlier leaves that were cut and
ever so slightly smoothed.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Daniel nodded his head as he straightened his view. The
answer, acceptable. The decision, made. He’d witnessed an imperfection and,
instead of accepting that plants had such imperfections, his nature demanded
that the item, as well as a person, be devalued and cast aside. This was his
way. Perfection or nothing at all. He knew that he wasn’t perfect but, as he
also knew, the illusion outshone all other available information and facts.
Daniel stepped back a step, looking around the room, glancing at a silver vase.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Buy the vase!” he quipped, knowing that his quick conclusion
and words would hurt and discard the flower owner’s self-esteem. He cared not
that the flower, as well as seeds, were the finest the world had to offer, as
casting aside the owner and item empowered him. He was, after all, far more
valuable and absolutely had to have the utmost best for his own world. He cared
not for other’s feelings, what it would do to them or how they would suffer or
feel. It was, as always, all about him.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He smiled, as he turned, walking out of the gallery area
into the lobby. His au pair followed quickly behind, knowing that he only had
one chance to listen if Daniel requested anything further. As they neared the
exit, Daniel stopped and gestured for the au pair, Simon, to come closer.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Buy the plant. Wait a few days and don’t let her know that
it’s us!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Sir?” replied Simon, quite confused.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“I’m shallow, I want what I want and will throw away anyone
or anything that doesn’t please me but, yes, I want the damn plant!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Simon nodded, knowing that some people in the world would
always be, no matter what, shallow.<o:p></o:p></p>Damian Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01891554964149213015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1175656299872434541.post-59627928751702840702022-08-02T21:15:00.002+00:002022-08-02T21:15:58.295+00:00Alone<p style="text-align: justify;">He looked out into the bleak wilderness, the cold air and
harsh weather seemingly calming his inner voice. He was, for a better word, at
peace. Finally. Expectantly. Thankfully. The previous days, harsh. The reasons,
justifiable. The outcome, understandable. The result, betterment.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaKJv84xKh_mruHld3SwNYCPvSZCLHmGCBlDxJmAL9ktQlKDLydydXfo48Yya_tmxWPulqZRUzEOi3hXPZgGPJAqA1JNKpdcst1FsReWFXoIo7EsivMKRaMZ7aCiaiWIfXDA6Bufk6l4QQ8BDMzhQnXQNPUFos416gHmm5Dywajd-Az4_7KaihP9M/s662/man-alone.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="441" data-original-width="662" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaKJv84xKh_mruHld3SwNYCPvSZCLHmGCBlDxJmAL9ktQlKDLydydXfo48Yya_tmxWPulqZRUzEOi3hXPZgGPJAqA1JNKpdcst1FsReWFXoIo7EsivMKRaMZ7aCiaiWIfXDA6Bufk6l4QQ8BDMzhQnXQNPUFos416gHmm5Dywajd-Az4_7KaihP9M/s320/man-alone.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">He watched as a small leaf gently wisped across the sky,
just out of sight, but close enough for his weary focus to see. The small
things in life, the moments, the calm within found, expressed and enabled for
all to see. He’d suffered, he’d broken in two, but what was broken could be
fixed and re-born anew. He’d studied, amplified his knowledge, changed his
outlook, realised and, most importantly, felt the change within. The blind
shackles removed.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The silence invaded his space, his emotional level
connecting to such a silence, equalising his frequency to that of peace. He
enjoyed the peace filled moments, the reflection of his soul within his
actions. He’d protected himself, kept quiet for months without end, each day
being the only day that mattered. The solitude of the one, becoming his
everything. He had further plans, more adventures but right now, the calm would
be his closest friend. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He'd read books, many, many books. He’d watched videos, so
many videos. He’d gathered a new structure, different avenues of thinking, as
well as taking far, far too much into his mind in such a short period. The
overdose, the influx of information, seemingly scaring his brain upon the other
scars that hadn’t even managed to even gasp for healing air. He wanted to
change, as his previous fabrication, had failed.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Done. He was done, for now. He needed air, clean air,
inhaled gently, filling him with the calm energy of the universe. Then, and
only then, he’d cleanse his heart and exhale any imperfections as well as
negative forms. He wasn’t quite ready, but ready was a place that existed no
matter his form, function or ordeal. The now of the never, not quite right at
this time.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Within the moment, he was happy just sitting upon a mountain, looking
out into the abyss of the water in front of him. The night previous, he’d
listened to a hundred affirmations, exalting his peace within. The inner, far
more important than the outside exterior, despite the world stating that you
had to exude beauty. He witnessed no current use for clothes, beauty or other,
as he had to fix the inside of his confidence, before allowing the external
beauty to show his inner energy. He’d listened to hours of rain filled
thunderstorms, his inner-child finding comfort of memories long gone. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He'd recalled the images of being a child, when all
electronic devices were switched off, aerials unplugged, as silence descended
upon the family. The static within life fell to the floor, as the calming
sounds echoed into the ears of innocence. He was told not to look, but how
could one not look at nature’s beauty as it struck the earth with such energy. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He wanted people to be beautiful, within, their energy being
something of thunder, mostly subdued but still allowing a heart to beat. Some
people were loud, some silent, some withdrawn and some asking for life’s
abundance. The shame arose from the external, with so much time being spent with superficial beauty. He, in ways, was no different.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He smiled, returning to the present moment, understanding
that everything had a time. One day, one moment, his essence would escape this
world, blink from existence to another level of energy. He had plans, he had
wishes and, in a few more months, his work would be complete and he’d allow his
energy to once again be released into the world.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">For now, however, he had accepted that he was… alone… and that wasn’t a bad place to exist at all.<o:p></o:p></p>Damian Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01891554964149213015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1175656299872434541.post-72543109839798186702022-08-02T21:15:00.001+00:002022-08-02T21:15:11.446+00:00Born (F2R)<p style="text-align: justify;">Sandra splashed the water, which sent Aiden and Jake into
fits of laughter and joy. She adored moments such as this, as they warmed her
soul. She looked surprised, as her hand moved down the side of the bath.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“What have I found?” she uttered with glee and high energy.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The two boys gazed at their Mother, waiting, bracing
themselves for whatever appeared next.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“It’s rubber duckie!”<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy2WcNLKEOQ9FfsBXSnfrD9srZRjRNPDuCs2Nbm5T0nBV9cbdpLTPoiaz3Bu6ZZ1CuwuNeOowaKflrosDh4upE0VaevFt2w8E6EEOAOn599YiKwr28VX1y5-sk_4UUbldMn0QixBl6go0u7n5mjwP0EqPBQKLGrZPL3K22c5YtzC4qxp0CxRNG2BI/s667/________________________________________Born11072022%20F2R.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="667" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy2WcNLKEOQ9FfsBXSnfrD9srZRjRNPDuCs2Nbm5T0nBV9cbdpLTPoiaz3Bu6ZZ1CuwuNeOowaKflrosDh4upE0VaevFt2w8E6EEOAOn599YiKwr28VX1y5-sk_4UUbldMn0QixBl6go0u7n5mjwP0EqPBQKLGrZPL3K22c5YtzC4qxp0CxRNG2BI/s320/________________________________________Born11072022%20F2R.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The boys, once again, splashed the water as their gurgles,
laughter and smiling faces filled the room with beautifully positive energy.
The simple things in life, right there, in the moment.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“…and another rubber duckie?” said Sandra, raising a second
rubber duck from her right side. Both of them were to be treated equally, both
provided the essentials to ensure stability, care, affection and love. The
splashing intensified until, at last, Sandra presented each of them with the
duck. They both grabbed hold of the item, staring at the colours, the shape,
the absolute satisfaction of a new experience. Sure, they’d seen toys before
but this, THIS, was special. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“What do ducks say?” asked Sandra.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Deeehuuuhhh!” replied Aiden.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Nearly! Ducks say quack. Quack and quack!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Once again, they boys laughed, as Jake dunked the duck under
the water.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Sandra looked at her watch, her time just about to end.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Okay boys, Mummy will see you again tomorrow and you both
know what tomorrow is?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Aiden, once again, replied with an illegible noise which
might have made sense to his own thoughts.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Close, but it’s chopped up carrot and sweet potato day!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Jake’s mouth immediately started to dribble at the thought
of such things, as sweet potato was his absolute favourite.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“See you soon!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">All at once, the two boys vanished, as Sandra pulled the
plug from the bottom of the bath. She scooped up the two ducks, as well as the
various other items, placing them into the plastic container to the side of the
bath. She thoroughly enjoyed the time she spent with them, holding and
embracing every single second as if it were her real life. Sadly, it wasn’t.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">She felt the empty feeling rise within her stomach, chest
and heart, as there was simply no way around the situation. Each allotted visit,
based on the amount of electrical power within a building or habitat, stated
the amount of time she would have. Fifty people in the building, divided by the
number of rooms that required access to children, meant that she simply had one
entire hour.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">She wasn’t, as she knew, a part of the privileged that were legally
allowed to have children. Ever since the blackout, the changes, the food
shortages, she would have thought that there would be a baby boom. Such wasn’t
the case, to her dismay at first hearing about the new law.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">She stood, walking from the bathroom, closing the door as
she went. She sat at the kitchen table, her tears again reaching her grief and
dismay. She smiled a bitter smile, her heart aching, with her only solace being
that she was thankfully allowed to be born in the first place.<o:p></o:p></p>Damian Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01891554964149213015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1175656299872434541.post-50498306458544098402022-08-02T21:15:00.000+00:002022-08-02T21:15:01.525+00:00Face (F2R)<p style="text-align: justify;">Alexandra, sat looking into the large illuminated mirror,
felt a single tear move away from her left eye. She watched as it trailed down her
cheek, to her chin, only to fall away, never to be seen again. She’d spent nine
months perfecting the illusion, the game, allowing herself to become attached
to the situations, the people, the circumstance and daily endeavours of her new
life. In one moment, it was all gone.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMKx53TaRQfvyr0dcuTN-1p-F70ziQATOnggE-pUYdVGE_wYDSIEbZCX8aVwK9jajpCo5m0fpDXqPE_xZ5Tcgpam6_crca6LoJEdJ4VmfnOioho4eVD8Vndh3oqheRp0oNv_YMpq-ZbezcQyHleBa2yH7LqmaoHLpfYhVlLy1kRWW4guZnctZrPg8/s1212/________________________________________Face11072022%20F2R.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="494" data-original-width="1212" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMKx53TaRQfvyr0dcuTN-1p-F70ziQATOnggE-pUYdVGE_wYDSIEbZCX8aVwK9jajpCo5m0fpDXqPE_xZ5Tcgpam6_crca6LoJEdJ4VmfnOioho4eVD8Vndh3oqheRp0oNv_YMpq-ZbezcQyHleBa2yH7LqmaoHLpfYhVlLy1kRWW4guZnctZrPg8/s320/________________________________________Face11072022%20F2R.png" width="320" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">She picked up the cotton, starting to remove her make-up, as
she brought back the memories of the night. She’d said the wrong thing, at the
wrong time, to the wrong person and then, the situation cascaded as she knew it
would. One moment in time, one word, with the results being felt across her
very consciousness. There was a chance that she could recover from the
situation but, as she knew, when you lived within a perfect life, any mishap would be
remembered forever.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">She dropped the cotton items into the bin, just to the side
of her, as she moved her face closer to the mirror. Placing a finger onto her left
cheek, moving it down ever so slightly, she looked for a possible sign of a
line, or two. Nothing. The face was absolutely perfect. Blemish free, angular,
the perfect symmetrical impression leaving most people blessed with her beauty
and presence. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">She placed her left hand onto the other side of her face, as
she straightened her fingers to press gently. Ever so slightly, she
rotated her hands a few degrees and the seal broke. As she moved her fingers
and palms away from her skin, the face fell into her opened hands and she
immediately threw the mask into the bin. Done. Over. No longer needed.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Her replaceable face, no longer required. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Opening the drawer, to her left, she reached in and brought
out her actual, normal, original face. Her eyes scanned the item. Withered,
lined, the weathered surface warming her heart ever so slightly. She placed the
face onto the surface, where the previous face sat, then gently pressed with
her hands. A few moments escaped, as she twisted slightly. The seal applied itself
and, finally, she was her old self again. She smiled a fake smile, as her face
looked back at herself in the mirror. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Now, more than ever, she’d require a new face, a new
identity, as she would never make it in life if the face didn’t fit. Partners would
jilt her, parties would exclude her, all for the surface and shape of her face.
A small amount of anxiety rose within her chest, another tear appearing from
the same location as her previous face. Broken, within. Failing, outside.
Knowingly confused, most of her life.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">She wished that she could simply be who she was but, truth
be told, she’d lived three lives so far and now, she simply did not know whom
or who she was. The personalities, the fake faces, the auctioned words of vapid
connections and more that threated to break her mind. She’d laugh, smile, dance
around the room, if even a small spark existed within her soul. Her joy, long
gone. Any peace, a moment of the past. Her self-love, a fictional character
within the play of her own making.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">She wiggled her nose, moving it left to right, up and down.
The original, the face of her birth. Her Mother would not agree with the way
her life had evolved, but this was the way of things. Surface charm,
trivial moments in time and shallow happenings behind closed doors. The entire
world finally, fully, forgivingly, embraced within a cacophony of endless
posing and preening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Personality once
was. No longer.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">She stood from the small chair, switching off the mirror’s
vanity light, as she turned and walked to her bed. Moving the covers aside, she
turned and sat, lifting her legs into the bed, returning the covers once she’d
found her calm. She looked at the ceiling, still moving her nose. None of her
other faces felt the same. Not one. She could tell from moving her nose, as
she’d done a lot as a child because of hay fever. The other faces felt alien,
strange, plastic and fake, just like her life.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">A few moments of inner-silence moved through her mind as
she, finally, realised that she would no longer wear another fake face into the
world. She would be herself. She would be herself if, eventually, she realised
who she was. After all, she knew that the cover of a book only told the
smallest of stories, with the face of things being just that, a face.<o:p></o:p></p>Damian Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01891554964149213015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1175656299872434541.post-90585968975356841952022-07-28T07:41:00.003+00:002022-07-28T08:13:50.344+00:00Unconditional<p style="text-align: justify;">Danny, throwing the remaining wrapper into the bin, slowly
chewed the oat filled protein bar. It had a slight taste of chocolate orange,
despite the taste being quite bland. It was, however, a welcome treat from
eating vegetables and whatever else she decided to eat that was overly healthy.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQTmuHw391mpBO5d9Hlj646WuhoB8e7ohqCYMoevsynBFHk4pUjdJ8I_9ZlzQ_Rrtxq4foGQ9S6igTCLHzSjRY7Za8DdVFQr8qEw4m-H5_CJC1PuBvt7wwsbxPb2Lv7vk66kU7MA-2s0T5pSlTTWSvg-MtWSKHJPT4VADUSKqEfalY0t2i1AxiRvU/s1000/________________________________________Unconditional11072022.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1000" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQTmuHw391mpBO5d9Hlj646WuhoB8e7ohqCYMoevsynBFHk4pUjdJ8I_9ZlzQ_Rrtxq4foGQ9S6igTCLHzSjRY7Za8DdVFQr8qEw4m-H5_CJC1PuBvt7wwsbxPb2Lv7vk66kU7MA-2s0T5pSlTTWSvg-MtWSKHJPT4VADUSKqEfalY0t2i1AxiRvU/s320/________________________________________Unconditional11072022.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">She looked out onto the lake, it’s steady calm invading her
mind, soul and body. This place, of all places, was her go to whenever she felt
lost, alone, or simply struggled with life. It was her safe place, her own place,
despite many other people being around her at this point in time. She could see
a frisbee zipping back and forth, to her side, the barking of dogs to her other
side and, once again, the calm residing in front of her.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Her mind, her thoughts, as always, presented themselves
whenever she struggled to find a gap of peace within her moments. She wanted to
ponder a million subjects, but this one subject simply wouldn’t leave her
alone. Love. She’d often wondered, as a younger woman, what love entailed, what
it embodied to other people and more. Lately, she’d been reading about
unconditional love which, for some reason, evaded most people. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">She knew that she was mildly selfish, the same as most
people, but this unconditional thing kept creeping into her mind. She'd accepted that
she loved each of her partners, past, present and possibly future, for a
reason. They had a beautiful smile, knowledge, or just something about them
made her want to spend her life with them. Then, over time, doubt crept into
her soul and, as usual, she devalued and cast them aside. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">She’d realised that loving someone for a reason, meant that
once she no longer wanted, valued or required that reason, her love would fade
away and the process would start again. She would repeat the same situations
over and over again. All she wanted was to be loved but, of course, she knew that in order to be loved, it required sacrifice, effort, acceptance and struggle. She lowered her head, as she played with her fingers. She wasn’t proud of her actions, as she’d caused such distress, such
heartbreak, convincing herself that she would eventually, or never, meet the
one for her. She also knew that the one for her wouldn’t exist, until she dealt
with whatever demons existed within her.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">She closed her eyes, blocking out the surrounding noise.
Unconditional love, to her, meant that she accepted another person for who they
were, faults and all. No selfish motives or desires. She knew that thinking
would destroy any relationship, with thoughts being expressed, actual brave
communication, becoming the saving grace of all affection. All she had to do, was be brave. They weren't all the same and, deep down, she knew this to be true. She, however, often stayed the same and, above all, there would always be limits to how she was emotionally treated before the unconditional faded.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">She sighed a heavy sigh, as she opened her eyes. “If only!”
she whispered under her breath, to no-one in particular. The realisation of
loving unconditionally meant surrendering to fear, to possible future
disappointment, but she was willing. She wanted to find someone that was kind,
giving, sensitive, strong, well dressed, well mannered, perfect, hot, sexy and
more. To do that, all she had to do, on the other hand, was smile and love
unconditionally.<o:p></o:p></p>Damian Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01891554964149213015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1175656299872434541.post-69902689590147325552022-07-28T07:41:00.000+00:002022-07-28T07:41:06.847+00:00Blackout (F2R)<p style="text-align: justify;">It happened so fast. So quick. We didn’t have enough time to
breath, to even think, before chaos rained down upon all of us. Every street,
every city in the country, probably the world, erupted all at once.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">It was planned, we know that it was, now. A blackout. A
pure, sadistic, biblical, universal blackout. Not energy, but money. One day we
all had bank accounts and the next, absolutely nothing. Everything crashed, the
stock market, the entire system. Yet, funnily enough, we still had lights and
electricity. It made little sense, back then.<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaEXHQNN7MXwr3c5j_WelxpL1fmGwY6DotUawU9hahxPayN8W7SjOibIq22aHdk5_JLx2TTH6ffbH9MnJyoPceitF9YR7Qe7O1AaDlvU4ug_2SoU6AagJT7oyGJ_9cHXpX_5cJjWBRgKipTgG97KdqHkAp7HOrRIe2jJCaIN0i-44ndXJgYXl293w/s612/Blackout10072022%20F2R.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="408" data-original-width="612" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaEXHQNN7MXwr3c5j_WelxpL1fmGwY6DotUawU9hahxPayN8W7SjOibIq22aHdk5_JLx2TTH6ffbH9MnJyoPceitF9YR7Qe7O1AaDlvU4ug_2SoU6AagJT7oyGJ_9cHXpX_5cJjWBRgKipTgG97KdqHkAp7HOrRIe2jJCaIN0i-44ndXJgYXl293w/s320/Blackout10072022%20F2R.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Without money, there was the initial confusion as to how any
of us would buy food. Buy anything at all. After the confusion, many turned to
their basic, natural instincts. There was blood in the streets. Every single
day, hundreds, thousands, maybe even more, would be killed by random gangs of
marauding people. Then, the gangs turned on themselves.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">This happened a few years back, when we numbered eight
billion. Within one year, we numbered four billion. Then three. We literally
had to stand in line for hours at a time, just to be given water, food,
essentials and more. We’d seen the videos from other countries, over the years,
where such things took place, but not here, not to us.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Money, basically, stopped being a thing. We were then given
a social credit system, once the app appeared. It all seemed as if we were
being saved, being given our lives back again. Eventually the food vans would
drive door to door, keeping us in our homes for longer, making sure that we
received the basics. If we weren’t home, each and every single day, we could
miss out on so much. Also, the score would decline.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The mass media heralded the change as a miracle for a modern
age. Civilised, but we came to realise that it was all about control. The planned
blackout, the ruling parties of the world, of course, retaining their abundance
within their sectioned world. The governments remained puppets, as the common
people simply made do with what they were given. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">It was so harsh. Eventually, as history has taught us, the
mass population accepted every single change pushed upon them. There were a few
that pushed back but, as is usually the case, friends and family quickly cast
them out of society, shunned them and made their lives a living hell. A new blackout,
for the people that didn’t get with the program, or agreed with the new order. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">What’s done is done. There’s no going back to the system of old.
From one corrupt way of living to another and yet, we now have far less freedom
than we did before. Travel was basic, limited to the range of your electric
vehicle if, of course, you could afford one with the limited social credit and
available score. Only the previously rich, or famous, could afford such items
and, heaven forbid, if any of them said anything against the system.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">It was all corrupt. It was utter madness. Maybe it had to
happen, maybe it was the only way to save all of us. Maybe, just maybe, none of
us would ever know. Either way, it all changed with the blackout.<o:p></o:p></p>Damian Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01891554964149213015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1175656299872434541.post-69288062311255233812022-07-28T07:40:00.001+00:002022-07-28T07:52:46.532+00:00Body (F2R)<p style="text-align: justify;">Gerald stepped down from the pod, his weary legs shaking
ever so slightly. He smiled a withered, old, sunshine-soaked smile from his
aged skin. Stumbling slightly, he reached out and grabbed the sides of the seat
in front of him. He’d enjoyed his time, the many adventures, but it was now
time to say goodbye.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIdgBO0Tvg-3wk8ZwUSuo-OpKNCPmyDj5_4WTSYOMlXOz3vNfPfrDpvvV-ZnBsj3sLcF1_2xSvCJEQJQqD1yTqowGP0YDGjvbRb6m6BxkWFV0rODiMH771x0k0TEpFPEle9WgyjuvtjvFafxlLeI0au4KIbDvXxDkJ9a1CpZKnukxEewg8QHw9zeA/s800/professor-idoso-16648254.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="605" data-original-width="800" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIdgBO0Tvg-3wk8ZwUSuo-OpKNCPmyDj5_4WTSYOMlXOz3vNfPfrDpvvV-ZnBsj3sLcF1_2xSvCJEQJQqD1yTqowGP0YDGjvbRb6m6BxkWFV0rODiMH771x0k0TEpFPEle9WgyjuvtjvFafxlLeI0au4KIbDvXxDkJ9a1CpZKnukxEewg8QHw9zeA/s320/professor-idoso-16648254.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">He exhaled, a heavy burden leaving his mind, as he wiggled
into the comfy chair. He pressed the button on the intercom, next to him,
“Penny, they can come in now!”</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Thank you Mr. Sissero!” arrived the reply.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">As he licked his lips, trying to placate his dry areas,
three of his oldest friends walked into the room. He looked at each of them in
turn. He’d known Bobby since he was a kid, the two of them immediately getting
on like a house on fire, but also knocking seven shades out of each other
whenever the mood took them. Bobby was Gerald’s longest confidant, his friend,
the one that he could always count on.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Next appeared Barbera. She was his ex wife, the one that
stood by him despite his many faults, flaws and failings. She’d hated him,
loved him, hated him again but, at the end, loved him for his generosity, calm,
loving nature. They were like cat and dog, even if he was far too much of a dog
to keep such a wonderful woman by his side. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">After Barbera, Clive appeared with the usual big smile.
Clive was his business manager, the man with the miracle marvel of ensuring his
money stayed where it was or, should he say, increase the money wherever it
sat. All three, critical, all three, the people that he trusted more than
anyone else in the world.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Gerald smiled, nodding his head, knowing that they knew
exactly what was about to happen. He was, after all, a miracle worker. He’d
meditated, upon a day all those years previous, realising that the human
spirit, a person’s very consciousness and whole entity, could be moved from
body to body. He’d made his fortune, amplified the fortune to obscene levels,
which meant that the very world was his playground. Age, however, decided that
he had to curb his adventures. That is, or was, until the day he’d found the
human energy pool.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">His thoughts cut to the chase, telling the same story again.
He’d manufactured three bodies for himself, vessels, cores, transitory chariots
that could and would take his very person around the world. He’d give himself
more time, more energy, a solution, to live beyond his years.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">At first, placing his energy into another body felt alien, a
miracle, a technological marvel based upon the obvious arts of the bodies’
energy. He’d lived four separate lives, over the last twenty years,
establishing each of his vessel’s characters. Then, after discovering so much,
he felt that it was time to let his life fade away into old age.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He smiled a tired smile, knowing that each of them had to
purify their auric field, free their spiritual chakras and, above all, live a
clean life. Obviously, within moderation, where possible. In order for the
transfer to take place, they all had to successfully, at least once, make the
journey. Gerald gesticulated towards the pods. In turn, they’d all transfer to
their new bodies. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Each of his friends deserved their gift, the transfer of
life, their recidivation given another chance at purity and more. Bobby was
first. The pod closed and, after a few seconds, Gerald knew that Bobby would
feel the seven main metal prods pressing against his body. Then, after a short
time, two more would connect and the transfer would be momentary. Gerald hadn’t
really thought about what he’d do, or they would do, with their old bodies, but
he was sure that they’d shortly come up with a suitable plan.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">A few moments moved through the sand of time and the new
Bobby stepped from the pod next to the old enclosed Bobby. He lifted up his hands,
turned them over and then, the widest smile appeared across Bobby’s face. The
others eventually took their turn and quickly, surely, they were all given
their brand new gifts. Each of them, special. All of them, worthwhile.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Gerald smiled as the three youngsters left the room. He
needed no words, his last solitary few months would be enough to have one final
moment with all of them. His work, of course, would be catalogued, replicated,
then given to the world as his very final gift. For everything, a time. For
life, it would be forever. He knew that it would eventually be monetised, but
that would be for the next generation to resolve and figure out. For now, as he
lifted himself from the chair, he’d make do with the body that had held him,
protected him, saved him upon occasions and stored his very essence for many a
year. He was, finally, happy with the body that he called home.<o:p></o:p></p>Damian Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01891554964149213015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1175656299872434541.post-56556371376169270042022-07-22T20:02:00.005+00:002022-07-26T08:08:00.595+00:00Hearting (F2R)<p style="text-align: justify;">“How are you doing now?” asked Geraldine, as she sipped her
exotic drink of the moment.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Amelia, not really wishing to tackle the subject for the
twelve time this week, shrugged her shoulders as she replied. “I’m… doing
better. Ish!”<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaP2pYOp3Z3ISpEFkiCtNVnuW7_BFKKqNAmnQgS4NhXZWmaFlEI9p-_zy1f1OYW8bSHb1cNtQnd69GVkIowCYmIhkcURRrAB0mRYBxHXMTS8zNVRnBQncTWTUNLbR4hKPCxT02Wgod8vg26-6v_7L01fbEeQ1UhQmsJTKVCHlbXttLSfMb8IVZde8/s538/Broken-Heart-Wallpaper-Full-HD.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="303" data-original-width="538" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaP2pYOp3Z3ISpEFkiCtNVnuW7_BFKKqNAmnQgS4NhXZWmaFlEI9p-_zy1f1OYW8bSHb1cNtQnd69GVkIowCYmIhkcURRrAB0mRYBxHXMTS8zNVRnBQncTWTUNLbR4hKPCxT02Wgod8vg26-6v_7L01fbEeQ1UhQmsJTKVCHlbXttLSfMb8IVZde8/s320/Broken-Heart-Wallpaper-Full-HD.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">Geraldine nodded her head a few times, finishing off the
drink and immediately trying to catch the eye of an available waiter or
waitress.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Good. I like this.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Amelia felt her emotions rise within her. The constant
battle. The annoyance of just wanting to get on with life, once again disturbed
by the moment. They’d travelled out of town to escape reminders and yet, all
she could think about was that her ex would have liked the location. He’d have
enjoyed the time, the seconds, the affection and more. She felt a small amount
of anger rise within her, but pushed it aside as she, instead, gained control
of her inner monologue.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">She knew that her brain had thoroughly mapped the
relationship, making the other person easier to locate when related to
thoughts. She just wanted him to call her but, as she'd realised, it wasn't
going to happen. Her brain relied on experience instead of knowledge, with her
thoughts still searching and looking for him. This, as she knew, was grief. The
denial, the near madness, similar to feeling cold whilst looking at a switched
off heater. It made little sense and yet, it made perfect sense.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The heart's little brain, the thousands upon thousands of
neurons played a part in her suffering, with its own nervous system. The
communication, the speaking words of momentary pain, the suffering all playing
a part upon her mind and body. Or, should she say, her minds.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The warmth of another, pressed against her, providing the
calming moments within any storm or event, all gone. Vanished. Discarded.
Pushed aside. She'd never be the same again but, as she'd been informed from
every source, that would be the best thing for her. A new, improved version
and, above all, she’d never make the same mistakes again.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">She’d adjusted, understood, realised that self-love,
appreciation, looking after oneself was an absolute imperative. The love of
yourself, the greater intensity, meant that she could then share that love and
be equal and balanced no matter the situation. It obviously didn’t help that
much, seeing as her self esteem had been shattered into a thousand little
slices of pain inducing shards, but it was all part of the process. Elevating.
Progressing. Adapting. Improving her frequency and levelling up.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">She’d throw up if any further buzz words reached her lips
so, instead, she ordered another fruity, expressive drink once the waiter
arrived.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“How are you these days?” asked Amelia, knowing to expect
some crazy answer.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Geraldine, obviously about to embrace her absolute favourite
subject, herself, beamed a great big smile as she started.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Well, I’m totally over that guy I met the other month and,”
Geraldine paused, moving her top down a little, exposing the small ‘hearting’
device, “this thing is amazing!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Amelia knew what it was, realised that it would be the easy
way forward, but she simply didn’t wish to embrace such a solution. It
regulated emotions, castrated emotional pain which, of course, turned to
physical pain within the brain after a heartbreak. Sure, it hurt like hell, but
she’d rather feel than feel absolutely nothing at all.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“How long have you had that now?” asked Amelia.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Two years,” replied Geraldine, “it’s simply the best
device. All the fun with none of the pain.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Amelia smiled at Geraldine, “As long as you’re okay and
moving forward!” <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">She’d plead with Geraldine to throw it away if, at any
point, she believed that Geraldine would. Heartbreak and emotional pain, all
removed with a monthly subscription. The modern equivalent to happy pills ready
to go once you’ve completed the online form.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">She knew that the company behind the device would be making
billions and, as maddening as it sounded, even the dictionary added a new
description to the word, ‘hearting’. She replayed the words in her mind’s eye,
‘The pacification of emotional pain via electronic and electrical stimulation:
Hearting’.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Damian Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01891554964149213015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1175656299872434541.post-58149453426722943412022-07-22T20:02:00.004+00:002022-07-22T20:02:55.191+00:00Social (F2R)<p>Jack slammed the door, dropping his bag by the radiator, as
he ran up the stairs at full pelt. He was late, very, very late, which wouldn’t
do when you’re the centre of attention within hos social circle. He jumped into
the bathroom, checking his hair, his complexion, any random item or skin blemish
and quickly exited the room to hurry into his bedroom.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicO-OXtl1CfkviH4AN9Phf4WAnoWjNXJ4-RGxbUaCkT9C4gJ0EnXW1V7eJ4HHx4WC7W36GE8RBJpY7J6KCua0Gk7I0h0OmqLMMy7djMgSu8319M-qoXXCgS6tdk2truJ9Gw5pNMqOQv2TCh085XlTC3ODjlY8C7iuxCMdIadzRrD1qFWU45tW91Uk/s471/________________________________________Post__Social14062022%20F2R.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="216" data-original-width="471" height="147" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicO-OXtl1CfkviH4AN9Phf4WAnoWjNXJ4-RGxbUaCkT9C4gJ0EnXW1V7eJ4HHx4WC7W36GE8RBJpY7J6KCua0Gk7I0h0OmqLMMy7djMgSu8319M-qoXXCgS6tdk2truJ9Gw5pNMqOQv2TCh085XlTC3ODjlY8C7iuxCMdIadzRrD1qFWU45tW91Uk/s320/________________________________________Post__Social14062022%20F2R.png" width="320" /></a></div><p>Pressing the button upon his computer, he breathed a little,
trying to relax. One couldn’t arrive looking flustered as that wouldn’t present
the best face forward. It was, after all, all about appearances. He had to not
be not bothered, but bothered, but not ‘that’ bothered.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The screen appeared, scanned his iris and immediately
launched the social hub. He prepared himself, looking ever so slightly moody,
but at the same time, cool as he could be.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">‘No account found’<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">He stared at the screen, blinking a few times, his heart
skipping a beat and then nearly stopping. His adrenaline spiked a little, as he
restarted the machine. Seconds flew along as he calmed a little. Another scan,
another launch of the hub and, as before, no account was found.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">He pushed the thoughts aside, realising that if his account
had an issue, then so would others. He reached into his jacket pocket, grabbing
his mobile tab. Unfolding the screens, he tapped the side fingerprint scanner
and then launched the hub app with his free finger. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The app launched, with the same message appearing once
again, ‘no account found’. His head started to spin, ever so slightly, as he
launched the text hub.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Are you guys online?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">One by one the notifications arrived, the message read by all,
with the replies slowing appearing. They were all online. He was the only one
not able to connect. Even worse, he had no account. His social score, gone, his
credit history, vanished. His life outside of this house with all of his
friends, over. His heart, beating out of his chest, smashing against his ribs,
sent his mind into a spiral of confusion and trauma. His life was over.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Jack usually didn’t crumble under this type of pressure but,
of course, this wasn’t the type of pressure he was used to dealing with. He sat
down, taping the help icon on the front of the inaccessible application on his
computer. Almost immediately, a chat window appeared and he started to type.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">‘Hi, my computer and phone say that I have no account, no
account found. Can you help?’<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">He tried to calm his nerves, as he read the near instant
reply, ‘Hello, my name is Rachel. I see that you’re having trouble with your
account! What is your id or username?’<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">‘Yes. Username: SexySlushPup77*’<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">‘I see. Please wait while I look into this for you.’<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Jack sat, as patiently as he could, his knee bouncing up and
down. He could feel his nerves claw at his skin, his mind throwing thinking
towards his immediate thoughts. This was, in all cases, a nightmare of immense
proportions. A reply suddenly appeared within the chat window.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">‘Hello, I’m afraid that your account has been erased due to
inappropriate content.’<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">His fingers typed the reply at speed, ‘What content? I don’t
understand. I’ve not done anything wrong?’<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">‘It seems that your value to the Chat Hub has reached a
level to which your feedback, correspondence and participation has been
cancelled. Please apply for alternative social credit at your local credit
office. Thank you.’<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">‘I don’t understand? What did I do?’<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">‘The chat has ended. Please close your chat window. Thank
you.’<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Jack had heard about this before. Mistakes happened, but
this, this was one of the worst mistakes that could happen to any individual.
His life, as he knew it, was now over. He was, for a better term, a lower class
of citizen. Outcast, soon to be forgotten and snubbed by most of the people he
once knew. Once the system tainted an individual, once you were rejected, he’d
soon feel the results as people simply wished to conform.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Almost immediately, his phone started to ping. He scanned
his finger and, in front of his eyes, his friend list grew smaller and smaller.
It was happening. Already. His life, over, his chances and life opportunities,
reduced. He started to cry, the grief hitting him like the cruellest, most
destructive news he’d ever heard.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">He never thought that this would happen and, like all of the
rest, neither did they. The social score, destroying his life. <o:p></o:p></p>Damian Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01891554964149213015noreply@blogger.com0