Story part 3

If you notice a change in the quality of this part of the story, it's because I've reached the point where I really want to skip a head to the climax but am having to force myself to tell the story up to that point :p


I stepped out onto the harsh, unforgiving area surrounding the mountain and immediately felt the unforgiving wind attack. Relentlessly, the wind tore at my skin and bit at my eyes. Raising my arms to shield my face, I approached the mountain and began to search for a path over it. Its jagged terrain seemed equally inhospitable no matter where I looked. The mountain slopes seemed to have been forcefully discharged from the Earth at a daunting angle as if it had been rejected by the ground that once harbored it. Though a part of me desired to find a less severe path, the longer I spent on the scorched ground, the less my makeshift shoes protected me from the severe heat. Already I had to constantly swap my weight from foot to foot to keep either from burning.

Driven only by my determination to obey the lamb, I stepped onto the mountain, grasped a rough outcropping and began to scale what seemed to be as good as a place as any. My efforts were quickly rewarded as I climbed above the wisps of dust and left the heat of that unforgiving ground behind. My victory was short lived, however, as the intensity of the wind rapidly increased. Each inch I climbed was a painful battle that taxed my weary muscles against the downward gusts that threatened to tear me away from the mountainside and fling me into the air.
Slowly, painfully, I dragged myself up the mountainside. After what seemed to be an eternity, I found myself past the extreme slope at the base of the mountain and before a great, winding path as unwelcoming and devoid of life as the base of the mountain. I found a spot relatively free of wind and lay gasping for breath and assuaging my weary muscles.

Having regained some strength, I stood and peered over the wall I had just scaled expecting to find a great distance between myself and the ground below. To my dismay, I found that I had only come 10 yards at most from the mountain base. Dumbfounded, I began to struggle along the craggy path before me as I silently wept.
Each step I took along the path was fraught with pain and danger as my foot slid across the uneven ground. The shoes that had protected me against the heat now threatened to end my life as they leaked what little water they still contained. Though I tried to step carefully, the ground seemed to be ever changing. What I thought was flat ground actually tilted to the side. What I thought was slanted was actually a jagged point that nipped at the soles of my feet. Each stumbled threatened to send me tumbling all the way to the base of the mountain. No matter how I stepped, my feet would either find a sharp point or slide into a pinching outcropping.

As I stubbornly pressed on, I finally began to grown thirsty and hungry. I searched for some gathering of water that could have pooled from some previous rain, but despite the dark clouds that loomed above, I felt that the mountain had never been touched by the gentle kiss of rain. I wearily plodded onward hopping that the end of this mountain would reveal an area like the field I had left. It was then that I became keenly aware of time’s relentless march. Where before I was certain that many days had passed while I wondered in that beautiful field without ever growing tired, I now needed frequently increasing breaks.

Abruptly, I found myself at the precipice of an intimidating cliff. Gazing out, I saw an endless, flat expanse. Like the mountain, the expanse was devoid of life. Long dead trees were speckled amidst a sea of blood red sand. At once, I felt both a surge of hope at finding such plentiful wood to burn and a sinking despair that I could find no way down this cliff nor a way back up burdened with wood.

For a moment, it seemed as if the wind’s relentless torrent against my skin abated and instead wisped around me gently as if trying to caress my face or wipe the sweat from my brow. In that moment, the wind seemed to carry a fragrance that made my heart leap. I felt as if I should know this smell, like the scent of a grandfather or grandmother, but the moment was fleeting and left me feeling bitter and abandoned.
Resolved to build a fire, I began to descend the wall of the cliff. Each handhold tore and pinched at my skin, bit and gnawed at my toes, jarred my knees and scraped my face. I had hardly begun my descent when a gust of wind lifted me up and flung me into the air.

Time held its breath for me as for one perilous moment gravity failed to assert its hold over me. Then slowly, like many tiny hands reaching up and grasping at my clothes, I began to fall. Quicker, faster the ground rushed up at me. In vain, I grasped for the wall, but no matter how I moved, it remained just beyond my grasp. With one final desperate lunge, I reached for the wall. Despite all odds, my hand managed to find a hold and my body slammed into cliff face with stunning speed that caused my head to strike a rock jutting out from the wall. The world spun as I hopelessly struggled to regain my senses.

I managed to clear my head just in time to realize that when struck my head, I released my grip and was presently falling head first toward the sandy expanse. Before I had time to try anything, I hit the ground, and the world exploded into stars, then immediately sunk into a black, soundless darkness.

Story part 3

Story part 2

Build a great fire.

There was neither doubt nor hesitation in my mind that I should obey the lamb. I had chosen to follow to follow it already obedience to its undeniable authority seemed to be a given. I left immediately to gather the wood to build this great fire and presently found myself before a great, jagged mountain range. This range encompassed the field I had been in and created an instantaneous division between the meadow I had been in and the rest of the world.

Indeed, even the atmosphere had a dramatic change. The sun that had been so gently warming me had presently vanished behind a great furry of black clouds. Every so often, a deep rumbling of thunder would reverberate through the irregular crags of the mountainside. As each boom of thunder rolled across the mountain, small rocks rained from above as if the lifeless, rocky mass was so brittle it was threatening to collapse in on itself.

There was no gentle transition from the vitality of the field to the inertness of the mountains. The life that had flourished everywhere the eye could see in the meadow immediately stopped 50 feet from the base of the mountain range. In the place of rich, soft soil of the field, the ground surrounding the mountain was rough, and cracked as if beaten down by countless years of brutal sunlight.

The mountains loomed before me so fearfully, so majestically terrifying that I first recoiled in horror at the thought of traversing this mountain. It was only with the thought of that mysterious lamb that I was able to draw forth the courage to and step out onto that hostile ground and approach the mountain.

At once, I became aware of the fact that I had no shoes, nor any form of foot protection. In fact, my entire attire seemed tailored only for the perfect environment of the meadow. A white, simple shirt and matching loose pants rippled pleasantly in the wind of the meadow, but in domain of the mountain, it offered as much protection as my bare skin. The wind furiously charged down the side of the mountain and spun away in tiny circular torrents as the impacted the ground. Each gust brought with it new pinpricks of countless dust particles the wind tore from the ground and chafed across my skin.

The ground sizzled from the moisture of my skin and scalded the sole of my foot the moment I took a hesitating step onto its unwelcoming surface. Though I wanted to surrender and abandon the instruction of the lamb, I found myself unable to accept the thought of disappointing it. For some time I walked up and down the mountain range searching for some area that was less harsh than the rest, but no matter how far I went, the schism between the mountain and the meadow remained resolute.

As I stubbornly plodded along determined to find a way across the mountain, my foot brushed past an oddly soft and large leaf. As my foot touched it, it released a soothing aloe that eased away the pain in my feet and cooled the burns of my sole. Stooping, I inspected the plant and found that each leaf was roughly the size of my foot and was impossible to rip save tearing the leaf from the steam of the plant. Moreover, the steam was wrapped in a fine, thin vine-like string that coiled its way up and down the steam of the plant.

Taking off a single leaf, I placed it on dead ground of the mountain and firmly pressed my foot against it. Though it sizzled loudly, the heat was diminished to a tolerable, if not slightly uncomfortable, level. At once, I took several leaves and with the string-like vine fashioned a crude pair of shoes for myself. As I finished and stood proudly with my hand made shoes, I thought for a moment the wind held in it the gentle fragrance of the lamb. I briefly considered looking around for the lamb to ask if it knew where I could get some proper shoes, but I felt as if time was pressing and choose to continue on instead.

Story part 2

Story part 1

Here's the first part of a short story I plan to submit to DBU's writing contest thing. It's based on a dream I had a while ago and I had written (and posted) just a telling of my dream on my xanga site. I had wanted to turn it into a short story, but I never really did, I think I may have done a quick, rough version, but I decided this time to flesh it out and tell it the way I wanted to. I think an drawn version of this story would be really cool. Let me know what you think of this first part.

It was silent. No, it was more than that. It was mysteriously serene. If forced to describe it, I would call it the feeling one has in the moments before their parachute opens after jumping out of a plane. The air rushing past them, the profound silence that encompasses them as the plane roars out of sight, the wondering, “Will my chute open this time?” Time holds and in that moment there is an acceptance of what might happen and the adrenaline stops pumping and there is a smile. But in the next moment, the feeling is lost as the parachute bursts from its package and the wind bellows it into a proper shape.

This serenity, so mysterious, so profound, suddenly flooded my being where before there had been nothing. I knew before I opened my eyes that I lay in some kind of field, devoid of all animal life. The only thing that seemed to exist was the sound of a perfect breeze rustling through tall grass. The sun bathed the area with a gentle warmth known only to lethargic cats sprawled out in front of a sunny window.

It seemed odd to me that I did not know where I had been just a moment before. I felt that I had just before been nowhere and had suddenly come to exist in this somewhere. That did not make much sense but I felt that where I had been before did not matter and the only true pressing question I had to face was whether to continue lying here or open my eyes and walk around.

My curiosity eventually won over the great peace I felt in lying there and with a large stretch I sat up and opened my eyes. Slowly, I became aware of field surrounding me, as if my senses were turning on in stages to prevent the pristine purity of the field from overwhelming me. Where before I was aware only of the tranquility of the wind and the warmth of the sun, I now took notice of the enormity of the field itself.

As I stood up and looked around, I realized that I had been lying on the top of a hill in the middle of the most beautiful place I have ever seen. Each blade of grass rose high and began to slightly bend under its increasing weight. The wind blew across the meadow as if it were a great conductor leading the grass in grand ballroom dance. As far as I could see, the meadow stretched on in gently rolling hills. Each hill was attired more majestically than any King or Queen could ever dream of achieving.

And the aroma! Gazing out on the flowered hills, my nose became aware that it should wake up and experience the divine aroma permeating it. Anywhere else, such a densely packed field of flowers would immediately overwhelm me and send me running for the nearest Air condition controlled environment. But here, in this impossibly serene field, I found only the comfort of the sun, the majesty of the dancing grass, the regality of the elegant hills, and the intoxicating fragrance of the flowers.

Dumbfounded, I stood there. Unsure of how I came to be here and if my presence somehow marred the perfection of this meadow. Slowly, as if waking from a stupor or some deep sleep, I decided to pick a direction and search for way to remove myself from this place. I walked for some time without the sun growing in intensity or diminishing in beauty. I traversed hill after hill before realizing that I had grown neither hungry nor thirsty nor even weary. I knew somewhere in my mind that I should be wondering about this, or perhaps concerned, but though I observed these facts, I did not seem to worry about why they existed.

Suddenly, I found myself in a part of the field that expanded in all directions as a great flat expanse. From the midst of this expanse, I saw a solitary lamb approach me. It seemed to be a young lamb, only a single year old. I was covered not with the great, woolly mess that plasters older sheep, but a soft, dazzling pure white coat. As It came directly before me, it seemed to be surrounded by a unique fragrance, almost as if it had been covered in costly perfume. Coming before me, the lamb stopped and looked at me.

Follow me.

The lamb had not spoken but in my heart the words resounded with power and dropped me to the ground. The little lamb lovingly nuzzled my neck and again those words rippled through me. Each word felt full of power and compassion, of authority and understanding. It was a command and a request, one I could accept or reject.

Follow me.

The lamb gazed at me and standing I followed it. It felt as if we had traversed a great distance without going anywhere at all and bringing me before an area where the grass was cut low it stopped and addressed me again.

Build a great fire.

Story part 1

A Big, Bad, Social Blunder

I wrote this story a while back ago as a spoof on the well known story of, "The Big, Bad Wolf, and the Three, Little Pig". I thought it was mildly humorous and hope you enjoy it. (By the way, it's supposed to an article from a newspaper)

In local news today the mayor hopeful of Nowherevilles made a social blunder that may have cost him the political race.

He was supposed to be attending the vegetarian society, however spokesanimal Baa Ram Hugh claims that “Mr. Wolf’s daytime planner was tampered with to show that he was meeting at the live pig buffet society.”

When Mr. Wolf arrived at the vegetarian society meeting, still believing he was attending the live pig buffet society, he spotted three succulent pigs and decided to begin the buffet.

Little did he realize that the three little pigs he had set his eyes on when local congressanimals Dewy, Cheatem, and Bob.

When Mr. Wolf begin to attack, Congressanimals Dewy and Cheatem attempted to seek shelter in the real buffet. Congressanimal Dewy hid in an appetizer of hay while Congressanimal Cheatem hid in a platter of bamboo sticks.

Mr. Wolf had little trouble blowing away the poor protection the two congressanimals sought shelter in. Then to the horror of all present he made an opening course of them. After finishing with them, he turned to Congressanimal Bob.

Congressanimal Bob wisely sought shelter up the brick fireplace. It was while attempting to climb the fireplace without soiling his suit that the Police arrived and, to the relief of all, arrested Mr. Wolf.

Mr. Wolf will be place on trial latter this week for assault on a congressanimal. Pending being acquitted Mr. Wolf plans to press charges on whoever played this horrible prank and as Mr. Wolf believes, “destroyed [his] chance of being mayor.”

A Big, Bad, Social Blunder

Generation Mu

Edit: Congratulations to ANYONE who can actually follow my thought process in the following post. This just goes to show you shouldn't try to write anything way past your bedtime ;) I'm gonna leave it up though just for fun. Every person who enjoys writing should have a piece or two of horridness to keep them humble.


So, I've been considering this for a while. If I'm (technically) a part of generation y, my brothers are generation x, and my parents are around the baby boomers, then what will the next generation be known as? I've personally decided that all signs point to the next generation as being the Mu generation. For those who don't know, Mu, among being a Greek symbol and a cacophony of other things, is Japanese for "nothing" or "without" (see image below for how its "spelled")

So why do I believe that this generation is generation nothing? Take a look around. Currently in America there is a growing trend for white people to be ashamed of the color of their skin. I should be ashamed that 200 years ago people who had the same color of skin I did enslaved people of a darker skin tone. It doesn't matter that rival tribes of the same skin tone were the ones selling them to us, it only matters that it was my skin tone that did the actual enslaving.
Now I should get something straight, I abhor slavery, I abhor the notion that skin tone makes you somehow more or less inferior to other skin tones. The fact that slavery was supported back them is a source of shame for our entire nation history, but it's time to let it be history and tear down this wall of division that exists as a result of such a profound emphasis on what our ancestors did to one another way back when.
And it's not just whites who are told to be ashamed of who they are. Christians are told to stop telling others about their worldview. The Christian's worldview is too narrow mind and un-accepting, the only proper worldview is the (post?)modern one... is it odd that there is only one worldview that is acceptable and anything else is being narrow minded?
It's not acceptable to have an American culture anymore. Don't say the pledge, don't speak English, don't teach this, don't teach that. You can't pray in school if you're a Christian, but if you're Muslim you can pull out your prayer mat and go at it. Do you see a trend here?
As I watch the upcoming generation, I see the latching onto generations of the past. We have posers imitating the drug-crazed hippies of the seventies, posers latching on to the fashion of the roaring 20's, posers seeking identity in the closest god, er, I mean idol, um, pop "artists", sports star, or debauchery crazed actor.
This generation is growing up in an America that is completely hostile to its own culture! It creates these little cliques in which everyone knows what they hate, who they don't want to vote for, what not to do, but no idea on what they actually like and enjoy. As Americans, we must be open and inviting to the foreigner who wants the benefits of our country without having to change. As a result, mini-countries are springing up in America, this neighborhood is a mini-China, that one is a mini-Iraq, over there is mini-Mexico.
Again, don't get me wrong, I'm not some anti-foreigner guy. A quick glance of my friends will show that I enjoy friendship with people from all over the world. I love exposure to other customs and traditions.
Let me bring all the rambling to a single point. America is destroying itself by denying its own culture and identity. If you go to ANY other country you will be fully expected to speak their language and conform to their culture if you want to fit it. America should be the same way. People should be free here, but there should also be some form of unifying culture beyond MTV and Hollywood. Otherwise it will be the nothing generation that latches onto whatever form of past culture they can grasp onto without any unifying form of identity.

Generation Mu

So this is Christmas?

With Christmas upon us I just wanted to take a minute to remember with everyone what Christmas is really all about. I mean, we all know that Christ was not born on December 25 nor even any time in the winter. We even know that December the 25 was traditionally a pagan celebration. And ignoring little tirades about the commercialism of the holiday season, the question at hand is what is Christmas. The answer is easy, for Christians Christmas is the time of year we choose to remember and celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ our Lord and Saviour.

But I hope that you don't stop there, because while we celebrate the season and remember God's gift, let us not forget what that gift really was. A friend and I were talking the other day about the following line from Talladega Nights:

Ricky Bobby: Dear tiny infant Jesus...
Carley Bobby: Hey, um... you know sweetie, Jesus did grow up. You don't always have to call him baby. It's a bit odd and off puttin' to pray to a baby.
Ricky Bobby: Well look, I like the Christmas Jesus best....

That's the mentality of most people this time of year. We hang ornaments of these cutesy little angels and love hearing the story of a little baby. After all, the only offensive thing a baby does is make a mess in its diaper and the most divisive thing a baby does cause grandparents to fight over who gets to play with it. But let's get real here. The angels in the bible made grown men fall down in fear. Generally speaking the first words out of any angelic being in the bible were "Don't be afraid". Angels are not cute, they are awe inspiring and straight up frightening and the reality of this holiday is that a baby was not the gift we should be remembering.

God's gift to mankind was never a baby, yes Christ came as a baby, but that was not the gift. Ephesians 2:8-9 tells us what the gift is. It's salvation!

So in this time in which we remember the coming of our Lord, please don't stop your remembrance there. This is the season in which we are to celebrate God's gift. It's vital that we don't let people stop at baby Jesus, but that they come to know the truth about God's gift that we are celebrating this Christmas day.

So this is Christmas?

21 the last great birthday?

Now, when I say this, I do not mean as to imply that your birthdays become suddenly lackluster after 21, I mean that as you're growing up, 21 is the last mile marker for a child. In fact, I can remember that while growing up I didn't even consider an age existed past 21. Who cared if it did? What amazing thing happens to us after 21? So on my b-day this year, let us consider those awesome birthdays of the past and why 21 is the last great one!

5 - I don't know why, but children just love this birthday. It's almost the division between being just a little higher than a baby and being a full blown kid. School also starts at 5 and we, expecting it to be some sort of exclusive club that we had been denied up to that time, can't wait to start.

6-9 - Yes, each year brings a greater joy than the last in our child eyes. We're always looking forward to the next one, we're not 6, we're6 and 1/2 we're 6 and 1/4. We're always waiting for that birthday to come around so we can brag about being older than the last year.

10 - Ah 10, it's an enchanting number of mystery and intrigue. All of our 9th year we hear people talking about "the double digits". It causes us to yearn for it to come all the quicker as if we will gain some new life ability. 10 also bring about freedom for many boys. We can go a little farther in the neighborhood, and have to deal with a little less rules than we did before.

11 - This was a year I looked forward to all my 10th year because I was finally going to be a teenager! Yes, I couldn't wait to turn eleventeen. I was a little crushed when I learned that 13 was the beginning of the teenage years. It was on my birthday we were in Arkansas at my grandparent's house, I was opening a present facing the gas heater in the living room. Crushed.

13 - The real start of our teenage years!

15 - Every child waits for this birthday the minute they learn they will be able to learn out to drive. Having been driving now for 8ish years, I have to wonder why on earth I was looking forward to such a headache.

16 - This one goes without say. For boys, 16 is a mini 18. We can drive on our own and suddenly the world has become a much smaller place and ours for the taking! We look to this birthday as a right of passage to freedom!

18 - Not only do we become an adult (and graduate from school, hallelujah!) but we finally attain the age we where we can vote for the president. It rocked so much the first time. I voted for G. W. Bush Jr. I did it again 4 years later at 22. Don't like the war? Stop hogging all the freedom jerk.

20 - No longer a teenager! Even though nothing significant happens, it's a solidifying year as an adult. Not only are you over 18, but now you've lost the teen at the end of your age. AWESOME

21 - The last great birthday. It is the last one we build up with anticipation. At 21, there is nothing we cannot do anymore. From the time we're 15 we all know and hold 21 in a special part of our minds, waiting for the day when we too will be able to drink... even if we never use the right, we can't wait for the time when at least nothing is stopping us from doing so.

But what about after 21? As a child, did we ever look to anything after that? Nope, sure as an adult I could make another list, like

22 - graduate (for some (like me) this happens in a latter year than others)
25 - rent a car
29 - last year before 30
30 - the end of youth
40 - you were dumb at 30, 40 is the end of youth (somewhere around here is the added benefit year of finally paying off the college loans for the education you never used.)
50 - you were dumb at 40, 50 is the end of youth
55 - Four letters - A.A.R.P.

See adult list. But at 23, I don't really want to worry about that list quite yet, the kid list had a lot more fun birthdays and a lot less dreading it birthdays. Who morn's for 21, the last great birthday in the mind of a child?

21 the last great birthday?