Dear Friend, What is it about God…?

Lyn:

I cannot begin to say how beautiful this is.

Originally posted on Writings and Ruminations:

Dear Friend,

What is is about God that makes you so mad? The mere mention of His name causes your shoulders to tense, and your fists to curl, and your mouth to spit words of hate.

What is is about God that makes you so skeptical? The mere mention of His name causes indignant doubt and the passionate desire to prove His non-existence.

What is is about God that makes you so irritated? The mere mention of His name causes you to turn your back, to tune out your heart, to question the intention of the Believer.

What is it about God that makes it easier to believe in the universe, to believe in coincidence, to believe in “just meant to be”–all of which are equally unseen and void of visible proof and human explanation. Why is God so much more intensely unfathomable than those other things to which we…

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My Extended Absence

Just wanted to let all my lovely WordPress friends know I’m taking an extended leave from the world of blogging. Just after Christmas, I developed a lung infection that left me with little energy to do anything much more than walk from my bed to my recliner. I’m just finishing my fourth lot of antibiotics.

Cally at her best

Cally at her best

This weekend, our little dog, Cally, became very ill. The vet thinks she has a slipped disk in her neck. She’s on two different pain medication and some anti-inflammatory tablets. She has to be confined in a warm place and kept as still as possible. Fortunately, this is not a problem as she has no interest in moving around. When she does need to go on the grass, she staggers like an old drunk, poor little thing. I’m not getting much sleep – about three hours a night. Her brother, Napoleon (an Oriental cat), can’t understand why he’s not allowed to curl up with her in the basket. For those of you who haven’t met Cally and Napoleon, you can read their love story at, “Just so You Know, I’m the Boss .”

I’m back to reading blogs some days, but not up to commenting or participating in any of my favourite flash fiction sites. Lord willing, I’ll be back in full swing in a week or two. My very best to you all.

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Over Christmas and the New Year

I’ll be disappearing for a few weeks over Christmas and the New Year starting from Christmas Eve. During that time, I won’t have access to the internet – or it will be so intermittent, that I’m likely to do something desperate like throw my laptop across the room. This internet havoc will mean I probably won’t be able to read your wonderful posts. I shall return though, just like a bad penny. But, before I head off into a world without cyberspace, I’d like to wish all of you a very wonderful Christmas and a safe and happy New Year.

Love and Blessings,
Lyn

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Y Ddraig Goch – Sunday Photo Fiction

Each Sunday, Alastair supplies a photo from his collection for us to write a piece of fiction, poem, or whatever inspires you up to 200 words. If you’d like to join in, wander on over to Sunday Photo Fiction. Click on the little blue froggy thingy to leave a link to your post and read what others have written. My story starts after the picture.

DragonLewis stared at the apparition in disbelief. “Y Ddraig Goch!” his voice trembled. Whether from fear or awe, Gareth couldn’t tell.

“You know what it is?”

Lewis nodded, his eyes growing rounder as the dragon moved closer to their hiding place. “The Red Dragon. I thought he was just a myth—my Gran told me about him when I was a little boy.”

“Not very big is he…” the scorn in Gareth’s voice obvious, “for a vicious killer I mean.”

“He’s not a vicious killer. He’s a protector; our protector—Wales’ protector.”

The dragon stopped and sniffed the air; moving his head slowly from side to side. A low growl grew steadily until the dragon raised his snout, and a ball of fire erupted, melting the rocks that hid them.

“Lewis Blevins,” the dragon’s voice rumbled, “you will soon come into your destiny and become a true Bleddyn.” He lowered his head until it barely brushed the top of Lewis’s head and Lewis felt the dragon’s warm breath flow over him.

I’m going to die! But when Lewis opened his eyes, the dragon had vanished, Gareth was nowhere in sight and at his feet lay a sword and shield.

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Author’s note: The name Blevins is derived from the Welsh given name Bleddyn which meant “wolf cub”. Y Ddraig Goch means The Red Dragon.

Posted in Alastair's Photo Fiction, Flash Fiction | Tagged , , , , , | 24 Comments

Beyond the Waves – The Quest – Monday’s Finish the Story

It’s time for Monday’s Finish the Story. You have up to 150 words to dazzle readers with your brilliance, your wit, or even both – or just make us laugh. But unless you join in, we won’t be able to enjoy your story. So, hop on over to Barb’s Monday’s Finish the Story  and have a go. My story this week is part two of a story I wrote back in February.
Be sure to read the other stories too, by clicking on the little blue linky man.

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Donning her fins and snorkel, she headed out into the deep water. Her head told her it was hopeless, but she had to try; she had to find Olivia. It had been three months since their little girl disappeared. After the police investigation and the coroner’s verdict of accidental death, Charles threw himself into his work and she hardly saw him. He refused to discuss it.

“We imagined it, Lou. We wanted it to be true,” he’d insisted, “but giant dragonflies don’t exist. There is no fairy castle. Olivia fell from the cliff and drowned.”

But Louise knew what she saw—what Charles refused to admit he saw. This time it would be different. She’d use her fins and snorkel to reach the diving equipment she’d hidden and then dive down beyond the waves until she found that castle. She was going to get her daughter back from Queen Marigold and King Silvermist or die trying.

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The Pen is Mightier than the Leg – The Scribe’s Cave #50

Written for The Scribe’s Cave, a place where fiction dwells. Hike up the mountain and add your piece of flash fiction based on the photo prompt. You only need 50-200 words and the Cave Mistress will warmly welcome you. When you’ve written your story, add it to the link to share with others. Be sure to read the other stories too. You’ll find my post for this week after the photo. 83858357 Victor looked up as his brother hopped into the house carrying his right leg; there was a hole in the calf and the foot hanging at a ninety-degree angle. Hugo threw the leg onto the floor and himself into a chair. “What happened?” “All I did was cut through Jessup’s field. He shot me and then tried to run me down with his tractor.” “This has to stop, Hugo; someone is going to get hurt.” “Get hurt? Get hurt?” Hugo snatched the leg up off the floor. “This gaping hole wasn’t done by termites, Victor,” he brandished the leg like a club. “He could have killed me!” “But he didn’t. Keep out of Jessup’s field, or I might just shoot you myself.” “You’re taking his side?” “You’ve been a pain in the backside ever since Jessup got the lead role in the play instead of you.” “But I’m a better actor than him.” “No, you’re a lousy actor, but you’re a good writer. Stick to what you do best.” Hugo’s mouth dropped open. “I…you…you think I’m a good writer?” “Yes, you’re a bloody good writer. Now forget Jessup and go finish that book you started.”

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My Precious – Monday Finish the Story

It’s time for Monday’s Finish the Story. You have up to 150 words to dazzle readers with your brilliance, your wit, or even both – or just make us laugh. But unless you join in, we won’t be able to enjoy your story. So, hop on over to Barb’s Monday’s Finish the Story  and have a go. My story this week starts under the picture.

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“In the compound on the hill, lives a man with a dream.” The driver of the tour bus told his passengers. “He already has three domes partially built.”

“So?”

“See them?” he pointed towards a line of huge trucks. “They’re 793C mining trucks and each holds 248 tons of soil.”

“So?”

“He’s ripping out the pine trees, covering the whole area with soil and planting full-sized Oaks. It’s costing millions.”

“So?” The teenager was starting to annoy him.

“He’s building his own Hobbiton.”

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