Horror Stories and Us….

Living the nightmare, clutching the cushion before you, hoping that the Hero see’s the danger before it gets him, or hoping that the demon catches the girl and devours her, there are many ways of looking at a scene, a story, even your imagination. Every set of eyes see’s it different, they all have a memory, we are the sum of our experiences basically. You are young, you are rooting for the good person, your emotions are invested, besides, you are a child, those you nurture and feel most for, are those around you, and you want no harm to come to them, it hurts when they suffer.

Solomon recalled the journeys of old, how things happened, what being a child was like, before the advent of technology into the heart of so many lives. You didn’t have to text your pal to say this is boring, you didn’t have to tell your pal that everything was wrong, in a nutshell, you didn’t have the time to complain, you lived in the now, today was the day. You are going on holidays, you know your going, you don’t have doubts, there is a place, there is a road, you have been there before, and you know how to get there, it’s rather simple. The sandy beach, the caravan park, the others you will meet, the swim in the sea, and the guarantee of sunshine and good times, that’s the thought, you are going on holidays. You are not worried about the cost, what does it matter, you are not worried about the food, you haven’t starved yet, basically, you don’t worry at all, cause it always works out. For the same reason, you want the Hero to catch the bad man, and not the other way around.  Does this sound too simple, well, it used to be the way it was for a great many people.

Today we live with the uncertainty of not knowing, insecurity is mainstream, what we thought was for ever, doesn’t seem so, leaders are going strange, and the use of twenty word tweets and posts, can make the global news in a matter of seconds, as if we need to know, how so and so is thinking. Lets hope we don’t lose our minds with all the worry out there, that is the real horror story.

Solomon encountered the Spirit, heavenly assistance, magical rescues as if it’s the norm. It is, it was, and it will be again, for anyone who puts the eternal truth into their heads; God exists, and in these trying times, this is one truth you can rely upon, amen. There is no horror story when divine intervention is your friend.

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I’m a neighbor too

They,

hurry past the house, they know who lives there, the old lady is weird, they hurry their steps as they pass by. Inside their home, they bolt the doors, safe in doors, free from the world, the only thoughts, those they share with each other. The news, the story of a sickness, she thinks more anticeptic, he plans to wash more, they are a careful couple. Around the world, mortality is threatened, news of infection, not far from the attitude of those, who having wealth, are not into mixing with their poorer friends; they will only ask for help, don’t you know what they want. Neighbors.

Solomon sighed, a world threatened is a chance to develop new ways, or the return to old styles of caring. He recalled the truly great philanthropists, from the early 1900’s, the landmarks they left behind, the culture they encouraged, the gifts they gave to all, not selecting among the friends, a long time ago. maybe the new crisis, would encourage a new world outlook. Time was needed to size up the dirt that needed cleaning; did they really want their children to grow up stressed; as if they could do nothing.

Solomon recalled the night of the Spirit, the power of words that came with it; no power on earth could come close to it, amen. Neighbors, where were the borders, since we could reach out to every part of the world with our thoughts, thanks to the web.

Insight to the Corona Virus

Preparing for a journey, bags packed, you are heading down the stairs, you better hurry Jack, he misses a step, lands on the ground floor, full of energy, the energy that lifts, no need to worry, this is a time to relax, everyone light in mind, the usual worries abandoned, less anxiety better health.

She checks the window, peers into the street, has a habit of worrying. Getting older, the streets are not so safe, she watches the news, the nightly reports of crime, ensures she lives in a well guarded house, three locks on the front door, double bolts at the rear, she’d feel safer in an apartment block, with no back door.

Restriction in movement, the normal path is not safe, he takes the long way round, avoids the road block. Getting to the appointment is not easy, there is a border to cross, and it’s busy everyday, as the local inhabitants who live on the Palestinian side are made wait, he gets to his appointment on time, because he knows how to escape the patrols.

Market trader sits in his office, numb, his futures market has been wiped out and no one is keen to trade, after loosing his capital he has no place to move, the house mortgaged, who could predict the 1929 crash, and then the aftermath, while those with the means, exploited the weakness in the market and the loss of so much paper credit.

The world is running out of control, the fish are gasping for breath, the animals are moving from the forest, clean water is getting rarer by the day, children are unable to keep up their stress levels, there is a rise in depression everywhere, they need to slow down. A voice calls from the wilderness, listen to the words of the prophets it says.

Treasure Box

 

Flying Spirit

Te Amo, she turns her head, she hasn’t heard that in awhile, she’s a migrant worker, and an illegal, she is waitressing,  the cook is flirting with her again, she smiles. Meanwhile there are three tables that need to be cleared and three other girls like her, vulnerable, waiting to take her job, no slip ups. She passes a table, two men in suits, are they immigration, she pretends not to look, we ordered two coffee’s one says. She nods, rushes to the table, her eye on the two men, are they there to spy on her. Being an illegal is hard work, she has moved every six months, trying to keep ahead of the posse. She possess’s a secret, one she can’t explain, not in the normal meaning of the word; she carries the Holy Spirit inside her. Remain calm, she repeats this to herself daily, evening, before sleep, calm, you live inside me she explains. It’s as if she carries a special child inside her.

Our coffee, she passes the table, makes a nod, coming she says. It’s lunchtime, the busy period, but she doesn’t mind, there are other young girls like her, who are not that lucky. One of them dances the tables, and smiles at leering men all day, it’s a job, provides shelter, things can get worse.

She fills the cups, makes for the two men, sorry she says, setting  down the two cups. His jacket slides to the side, as if he is reaching for something, she spots the handle of a gun, law enforcement he says, sorry if I upset you, she smiles nervously. He nods. He wears a brown belt, he fingers the clasp, a sign, they are on my side, she sighs…..

Protected Girl

It’s dangerous outside, there are those you have to fear, we are going to keep you close to us, so will have nothing to fear. But I want to become a mountain climber she says; No NO, her parents say, listen to your father. Another dream dies, she is afraid or made afraid, no matter what direction she looks. At the end of her days, she is like her Parents, afraid of everything, the protected girl.

Solomon sighed; there were those who were worldly wise, but not wise in the real meaning of the world; their children were reared in a world which was not the world at all, more a cage. Everything was laid on, the help, special teachers, even friends like herself; they never came into contact with real people. How can you empathize, when your heart is in a splint all the time.

Dictatorships are easy to achieve.

Solomon sighed, a friend, who was learning the road, who started in the slow lane, had her confidence stolen from her. He recalled the laughter, and the fun, he recalled the times he had the parties when everyone was gone, and the life that came into the old house, and how the Spirit is revived, amen. Lucky person, don’t give up, life is today, and it’s full of surprises waiting for you, amen.

Passing on the Spirit

How can you heal inside, those resentments you told so tight inside you, they are like rocks you cling to when in doubt, well that’s something true you think. Anger, to have a good reason for it, gives you the green light to feel like you do. So you get over the anger, eventually, that rock is no longer there to cling to, there has to be something else, you start looking inside yourself, your life instead of the faults others parade before you. We spend our life seeking relief from the world, planning our next break, looking into the future, aiming at some date into the future.

She listens to the old man, he has a weather beaten face, is out in the weather a lot, but his words have a resonance. You had the freedom of the world once, there was no where you couldn’t go, and you went everywhere, then the impossible happened, you became ill, the juggernaut stopped, leaving you in the middle of nowhere, how will you cope. Clinging to anger only drains you, makes you only more resentful, especially when you are feeling the emotions.

Can’t move too freely once, you are listening now, the fast paced life no longer practical. You begin to notice the life around you. How can this man your talking with be happy you think, there are none of the signs you associate with success. Still, you are listening.

We are all Spirit he says. You look at the shine in his eyes, there is something in there. The last time you saw that expression, you were looking into the eyes of a loved one. Just passing on the Spirit he says. You thought you stopped for a coffee, but what you got, was a lesson, on how we pass on y

our Spirit, well, this old man sure did remind you of other times.

Generations

The pot in the yard, the food is mostly vegetable, no one is worrying about the shops, they are miles away, no phone, no mail, primitive living. Years later, mobile phones in hand, not enough vegetables, and too many shops, everyone focused on the word bargain, modern living. Solomon was looking back on the steps we took, the inventions, the speed of life, how things hurry up, the elderly sent to homes, focus on the future, our greatest worry, the loss of our mobile.

The current generation, from 2,000 on, distant from many of the habits many grew up in. International travel, expansion of services, combined thinking, networking, trying to get a handle on opportunity, trying to overcome the opposition, funding is vital, no one does it for free. The Mayan calender’s warnings, the world will change after the year 2,000, some thought it would come to an end. In someways it has already, the turning point, the emotional gap between generations, how empathy for the past is over shadowed, by the fast thinking millennials, who under the barrage of the social network, have no time to dwell on how things as they were.

Solomon was reflecting; what would the current millennials think of older generations.

Isiah The Great Prophet…

Isaiah the Prophet

Who was this prophet, who was he, Solomon was wondering what was known about Isaiah, apart from the power of his prayers, they got heard too, amen. What would Isaiah pray if he wanted the demon thrown into the abyss, what would he pray, how would he put chains on the demon. If he had lived in the time of Jesus, well he did, in that his words are still alive to this day in time, but how would he “frame” his request. He’d find a place where there was peace and nature side by side supposed Solomon, sit on it and think it through probably, the way Solomon often did, being in nature, you are in the borderless world, no one can claim the skies, no one can lay claim to the clouds either, or the oceans. Solomon had time to spend and he wasn’t going to waste a moment, and it was wise to add to his growing collection of petitions, there were those too weary to pray, and how many others voiceless, he was the Spiritual vacuum filler, ask wisdom, ask the others gone up, to help with the suggestion, as it had to be divine.

Solomon’s request….

Dear Isaiah, old friend, you have been to heaven, my request is a simple one, a good prayer is called for, the demons are on the run and they need to be finished off, amen. I need your advice, the religious fraternity are as always, stubborn to the point of stupidity, nothing new in that dear friend, and in the face of divine intervention too, so I can’t expect them to be helpful, and I have the news that many need to hear also, which they are supposed to be making clear to others of all faiths, of God Most High’s great providence and mercy, so, in a nutshell, apart from thanking our Great God, I have need for a new prayer. Amen.

That ought to work wondered Solomon, would certainly get heard, being made for all the right reasons.

Words made it happen, and it was a tablet he was using, the modern version, the electronic news board, where all could see, especially those in his circle of trust.

The Quite Woman

How strange she thought, the men had finished their meal so fast, she wondered if she had given them enough. She watches from the door, she does not want to be seen. When it’s time, she will enter or send in a young girl, there is procedure to follow, and procedure can’t be interfered with.

Rules, the Bishop plays by the rules, it has to be done in order. Solomon sighed, if they were abandoning ship, order might be key, but with the numbers in the pews sinking, the rules didn’t apply, a new approach was required. Solomon wisely said, well, you have to give them reasonable access God.

The women come together, they meet regularly, they are not legally sanctioned, they are allowed, to meet on the topic of regeneration. Their own parents had a strong faith, and the results of that faith, all these women gathered in the room, prompted them to try and help re form the church.

The Mullah was reading the old book; there was a lot of change taking place in the Spiritual world, the rights of women and others were moving to a new meaning, being devout the  mullah wanted words of comfort from the old books before he’d accept the new alterations.

Solomon was reading of the works of Jesus, how he dealt with those around him, and how he managed people, who he dined with, what food he ate, his attitude towards women, what he,

Jesus might make of modern day rules in this world of ours. There was a lot of stuff there, but overall, compassion, and kindness, was everywhere in him.

You Measure Me…

What do you see she asks, her face is covered by a mask, she has only heard his voice. She didn’t want to meet him, the dream might then end, she is afraid of being rejected, and it’s a feeling her heart cannot bear. The mobile phone, the connection, her words will never be rejected. Her fears are based on what she reads and what the media produces. The President is surrounded by blondes, rich men, and powerful friends, what good am I.

Her Father is anxious, her mother distraught, their sixteen year old daughter is anorexic, and close to death, her bones show through her flesh, she resembles a concentration camp survivor, it would be hard to tell them alike. What are we going to do, what are we going to do, we are going to lose our baby her mother cries. …

Solomon listened to the words of ancient scripture, a habit of his. Listen to the words of God, there is life in them, and many warnings.

“Those in authority will be dealt with severely when the time comes!”

Solomon is on the street, minding his business, he hears the angry words of a demon, he stops, thinks for a few seconds, says a prayer. The noisy demon runs for cover. So you are unwell, imagine David as he faced Goliath, no one gave him a chance, except himself and God, the rest is history.