Popular Opinion. #fiction #FOWC

Popular Opinion, copyright 2019                                                                                                         by Pamela Schloesser Canepa

 

“According to popular opinion, these humans are good for nothing but space fuel, or an after-dinner snack.  Not much substantial about them at all.” Dorf looked down at the landscape that grew closer and closer to them.

Mifkus just shrugged.  How could he convince the ogre any different?

“I mean, we’ve been visiting and observing for centuries and they don’t even suspect.  Politicians concern themselves with little more than the production and consumption of green legal tender.  I don’t see humans as worthy of a friendly greeting.  Destruction should be our goal.”

Mifkus zoomed his eyes into focus.  “Slow down.”  A dot on a city street below became visible.  Slowly, he pushed the share button and an image came to the big screen.

“There.  Someone knows we’re here.  She’ll be the bridge toward peaceful acclimation.  Destruction is not needed.”  He sighed in relief.

“Nonsense.  Those daft care-takers will erase any hopes of sensibility in that child.”

“Not if we make our appearance now.  A peaceful hello, to just this one.  Please, hear me out.  We’ll make a vote.”  He looked pleadingly at the others.

Peaceful appearance won out over hostile Earth takeover.  And today she lives to tell the tale of the odd green creatures that presented her with her first daffodil.  Tomorrow, who knows what may bridge us toward universal peace.

*You know what they say about popular opinion… Find the Fandango One Word Challenge and follow for your daily prompt at https://fivedotoh.com/2019/12/27/fowc-with-fandango-popular/

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Photo by Ahmed Aqtai on Pexels.com

There was a Frost on the Ground. #fiction #FOWC

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Photo by Egor Kamelev on Pexels.com

Why is my life such complete, utter crap?  Jackie pondered.

Santa would be coming soon for many boys and girls in the neighborhood.  Santa did not like coming to Jackie’s house when she was younger, because all that was left for him was an empty bottle of bourbon and cookie crumbs.  She had tried to tell her teacher that in second grade, much to her later regret.  A stay at Aunt Charlene’s house for two weeks was the result.  Even Charlene tired of that situation.

Dad lay on the floor by the couch, already passed out.  Mom was out with her new boyfriend.  How Mom and Dad could be separated and still under the same roof was beyond seventeen-year-old Jackie.  She wasn’t sure when Mom would be home.

Would he wake up and vomit? Jackie wondered.  Will Mom be home when he does?    Footsteps and cheerful voices approached outside the door.

“Hallo!”  Jackie’s mom walked in with a man in tow.  “I thought you should meet Tex. Oh,” she stopped short, as if surprised Jackie’s dad was on the floor.  He obviously had started early, which was not unusual.

Please, don’t wake up Dad, Jackie thought.  “You all should leave.  I mean, it’s nice to meet you and all, um, Tex.  But I don’t want him to wake up.”

“Nonsense.  This is my house too,”  Mom claimed.   With that, she sat down on the couch, and Tex on the chair closest by.

“Okay.  Suit yourselves.  Merry Christmas.”  Jackie headed for the door, grabbing her coat.

“Play cards with us?”  Tex called.

Jackie shook her head.  “I’m headed for Marissa’s house.”

Outside, there was a frost on the ground.  The first frost always held hope for Jackie.  Weather change meant to her that other things would change too.  She felt in her pocket for a twenty dollar bill and her toothbrush.  Tonight, at Marissa’s house.  And one day, she would leave for good.  I create my own reality, she chanted mentally, feet crunching on the frosty grass as she made her way.

*Posted for Fandango One Word Challenge, found at  https://fivedotoh.com/2019/12/25/fowc-with-fandango-frost/    12/25.

 

Dreamin’ #poetry #dreams

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Image courtesy of Pixabay.

Dreamin’ (c) 2017 by Pamela Schloesser Canepa

 

I dream of a California

that is untouched by flame,

of wide open spaces to which

no one lays claim.

I dream of a body

that’s not slowed down with pain

Of waterlogged islands

that can be home again.

I wish for outdoor concerts

not ruined by gunshots

And long for a leader

whose conscience can’t be bought.

I dream of a nation

embracing its weakest.

Acceptance and love,

to those of the outer reaches.

 

I dream with wanderlust

for I just want to escape

The feel, and the touch

of this year’s landscape.

I dream of a future

that is better than today,

that is spiritually evolved

from the world of yesterday.

I dream, but is that all?

For it has to start somewhere.

I dream, I share my dream,

and I wonder, just who cares?

 

*The poet, Pamela, was born in California.  Her own experience with the year 2017 has been a little rough.  Watching the news doesn’t help.  You may make conclusions about her political leanings.  That is your right.  We are all entitled to our opinion, but I think we’d all agree, the world, our nation, our people, have suffered a rough year.  Still, we can always hope for a better tomorrow and dream of a better world. 

 

 

 

 

Christmas Memories: No, I’m no Angel, but Sometimes My Prayers are Answered. #advent #faith #christmas memories

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This time of year brings back all kinds of memories. I volunteered to take a Bible verse and write a devotion to go in my church Advent devotional.  The memories were easy; the challenge was training my thoughts around a scripture as well.  Here’s the result.

Christmas Memories

Scripture- Psalm 16:11 “You show me the past of life.  In your presence there is fullness of joy; in your right hand are pleasures forevermore.” 

Advent season is a time for many memories.  Opening the door to the past, I think of my first Christmas memory.  Mom gave me a new red, velvety dress and pressed my hair in curls.  I was seven and we lived in Virginia.  Well, she dressed me up all pretty but it seems I caused her some embarrassment, plugging my ears and yawning a lot during the musical service.  Maybe I just wanted to be in the nursery with my little brother.   Despite my lack of decorum, we went home and Mom, Dad, and my little brother spent time listening to the record player together as I fell asleep watching the candles flicker, waiting for morning.  As close as I am to Mom, it’s odd that this is my first Christmas memory!  Yet what matters is that we enjoyed our time together as a family, my immature behavior was forgiven, and the occasion was still joyful.

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Then there is the memory of two years later being allowed to go into the ICU on Christmas Eve to see my dad through the glass.  *He’d had surgery on his esophagus and was in critical condition, but ultimately, lived.  It was a rough Christmas, but friends and neighbors all over shared their Christmas joy and cheer with us for the weeks he was hospitalized.  I was overwhelmed; we’d only known many of them for just one year.  Years later, as an adult, Dad said he saw me look through that window, and it felt as if he was visited by an angel giving him assurance.  Being told this made me feel really special.  I didn’t realize I could be so important to him.

While I recall many who have given over the years to share their joy and Christmas spirit with my family and with me, it is as deeply rewarding to do this for others.  I had a few opportunities to do so when I worked in retail.  I missed church service working late one Christmas Eve, and was anxious to get home to give three-year-old Austen his new tricycle.  Yet, I found joy in making one customer so happy when I found her a sought after TV in the stockroom, that she hugged me, saying, “God bless you.”   This was two minutes before closing time.  I talk about how retail zapped my Christmas spirit year after year, but this woman’s happiness and relief truly warmed me spiritually, and my son was still happy when I got home!

 

Prayer:  Lord, when I look back, please help me to see the good in all that I have endured, the lessons learned, the moments when I was someone else’s light in the dark whether I knew it or not, the many times that I was shown how much I was loved.  Help me to share that love and joy with others, for there is no greater pleasure.  Please help me to see that the goodness you have bestowed on me all my life will continue, for with faith in you, dear Lord, comes the knowledge and assurance that I will always be loved.

*Addendum:  If you were wondering, my father’s esophageal issue was due to a history of binge drinking and alcoholism.  He sought sobriety and finally, it stuck, after he stayed in a 30-day rehab when I was 20.  Almost thirty years later, he is still firm in his recovery.

tunnel-1484554_1280Light at the end of the tunnel.  Photos courtesy of Pixabay.

 

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