She and He

FallFrom_Grace in Fiction

39 reads

She and He

In the time before time, it was only she and he.

They were One, bound together, bonded long before humans tried to define “love,” before such things were fraught and complicated. Together they were everything, and everything was them.

But their existence was bound for greater things, she just knew. The core of her consciousness knew that time marched on, and she had a purpose.

He knew she was right.

In a cosmic moment, in a million lifetimes, there was Creation. They were no longer one; no, she was substance, she was strength, and he watched over her ceaselessly as she settled into form. From her came Life, and from him sustenance. They watched in awe as Creation perpetuated unendingly, as beings made their own way and changed their own selves.

They called themselves “people,” called other things “plants” or “animals” and gave them increasingly more complicated subcategories. They even gave her names, pretty ones like “Gaia,” “Danu,” “Prithvi,” or “Mother Earth.” They gave him names too, “Jupiter,” “Uranos,” “Dyaus.” The people grew plentiful and diverse, and it was with pride that the Two watched as humanity grew even as humans complicated themselves. They were learning, and Mother and Father were proud.

But sometimes it was hard. She had committed herself to a form, and now she was solid. She couldn’t be a part of his existence, not like she was before. They were separated by a physicality that he could hardly understand. It was worth it, they both agreed, for the sake of their Creation.

And so he stands watch as she nurtures and grows, teaches and blesses Life. He weeps sometimes; for joy at their Creation, for sorrow at her distance. From his tears she grows.

And when each have the energy, they reach out. He stretches his great arm down to her, and she, with joy, extends hers upward. Their hands meet in a blinding flash, and for one beautiful, mighty moment, they can touch one another again.

The concept of a Sky Father and Earth Mother is one that spans multiple faiths, myths, and traditions. It is a beautiful universal reflection of our understanding of our origins, and our love of the nature that surrounds us.

batmaninwuhan in Fiction

46 reads

the dangers of clouds and lightning awareness

The cause of lighting and thunder is a well established fact: clouds of different density are obscenely lascivious. Those prurient meteorological phenomenon know well that their time in the lower to upper stages of the troposphere is short, they have also no illusion as to the possible existence of an afterlife an so they seize every opportunity to rub, grind and even violently slam into one another. The result of this urgent, desperate quest for sexual release is FRICTION. As the clouds shamelessly do their thing, without even the least concern for their privacy, a tremendous amount of static electricity is created.

this form of electricity , known as static electricity, is not called ‘static’ for nothing. It is certainly not a free directional movement of electrons from one pole to another. It is a directionless excitation of electrons, who are left hovering in a looser form the they were before the act. This causes all kinds of interesting reactions, some of which can easily be observed by people in laboratory conditions and even children, if left unattended. However, the vastness of clouds, some of them amounting to many thousands of cubic feet of indecorous aggregate of water vapor, dust and other gases, makes this shameless exhibition more distressing, as that there eventually comes a moment, when the excited electrons can no longer remain static.

The wholesomeness afforded to electrons normally by conductors and circuitry are not afforded them in this immense scale of things. They become incredibly unstable. This instability, must be released eventually. the in some ways it is akin to an explosion. And yet, unlike an explosion, the discharge that follows moves in only one general direction-to the earth.

You see the earth, our seemingly pure and virtuous planet is not at all the way we think. All formations of land, all outcroppings of continents are the even more violent expressions of wanton engagement of TECTONIC PLATES, who seldom eschew driving against each other in groups of three or more, exacting immense forces and stresses upon each other. all weather phenomenon , the radiation that comes form our sun, and the gravitational pull between the planet and other objects all get those tectonic plates incredibly excitable. Their depravity which is observed by seismologists in particular, has caused many of that profession to lose much sleep in sweaty nights.

And so the phase of matter, which we call the troposphere, being a den of great debauchery influences the upper layers of the earth, known as the lithosphere.

It assumed by the great minds of our times that what lies even lower, in the inner core of the planet must truly be unthinkable in its impropriety. With this increasing order of depravity, it is easy to understand how, channels of ions form from the ever-hungry upper tectonic layers , which gleefully funnel those super-excited electrons that become unloosed in the act of savage coitus of the clouds.

It needs to be mentioned at this point, that while all cloud types are exceedingly concupiscent , the one type of cloud that is the most aggressive in their pursuit of their lustful drives is the famous Cumulonimbus. This massive formation is a vertical monstrosity of unspent needs. Being a single formation, they find the intensity of their desires too great, and often they would prey upon lesser clouds that they meet in the lower troposphere, once this happens, the violence of their discharge may be too much for these lesser clouds that they pounce upon. In such cases the discharge may not be confined to an extreme flow of electrons, amounting to trillions of amperes of electric flow but also to the creation of hail and snow, which are known to be the tortuous unholy product of this ill-matched engagement.

As electric discharge in the form of lightning is an unwholesome, carnal result of a meeting between clouds, and the eager channeling of this energy into the lustful earth, so can it have indelicate effects upon life and property. To avoid the dangers of a lightning, there are some things that must be known:

1) the earth prefers to created these salacious electrical channels through mediums that are conducive for this transference. Obviously, the best of such channels is that of shortest route. Mountains, the raised crumples and wrinkles which are the clear aftermath of the romping between the eager tectonic plates , are brought high above the plain and as such form a shorter channel for the hungry earth to siphon its vile satisfaction.

2) In lieu of such raised topography, a channel may be formed upon any other point of greater height, such as a tree, or a building. Sheep are also commonly favored as a channel for lightning .

3) in recent years, more and more people have been exposed to both the depravity of meteorological phenomenon, and the privation of being struck by lightning. In those rare occasions, humans, which are, in the whole, virtuous, become recklessly obsessed with their own sexual drives, and so if they should find themselves outside, in a clear plain, without the cover of a raised landmark AND with sex on their minds, they would form a rare conduit for these discharges. The best remedy for such eventuality is to avoid sexual thought, eschew long excursions outdoors, refuse the wearing of provocative clothing. If all else fails, a person who is obviously in peril of being thus struck by lightning, because of choice of apparel or his own indecent thoughts, must quickly find shelter under larger and higher landmarks , such as bell-towers, trees. finding shelter under sheep is also a good solution as that sheep think of little else but their procreation. It is important to raise awareness to the indecency of clouds in the community, and prepare houses and buildings for the imminent danger of clouds in their must. .

H1 in Fiction

16 reads

Hole In One (REPOST)

You never know power until you see your life like a feeble candle flame in a raging storm. Screaming winds, creaking beams, crashing trees, streaking bolts of light illuminating the raging sky, and thunder—that terrible beast. I hold my young brother close as he cries into my bosom. The sound of his wails cannot reach me above the tumult, but his quivering tells me all I need to know. The dim lights flicker overhead and all I see are shadows of faces huddled close together in the darkness, ever so often illuminated by another bright flash.

I lean my head close to my brother’s ear, lips brushing against it as I speak in a voice sounding low but loud enough for him to hear. Only he will know the words I speak this night. I tell him this story: “God likes to play too sometimes, and right now he’s playing golf.

“He plays with a long steel driver, which flashes like a sword when he swings it hard against the ball. That’s the lightning. He goes so fast that we can only see it for an instant, but when we do, it’s the most brilliant sight in the world. It’s heavenly, after all.

“After he swings, he hits the ball hard, and the sound of the impact is so loud it echoes across the world for miles, shaking us to the bone. That’s the thunder. Then the whoosh of his motion sends the winds whipping around us, strong enough to knock the trees down and make all the big tall buildings shiver. That’s how it goes every time: swing the driver, flash of lightning, drive the ball, crash of thunder, whooshing winds from the swing—and off the ball flies for a million miles, light years away in an instant.”

At this moment, another flash comes and the crackling thunderclap follows close behind, cascading winds crashing against the house. My brother, who has stopped crying, squirms beneath my enfolding embrace and his head emerges towards my ear. His face is stained with tears and fright, but he’s interested. “He’s that powerful?” he breathes.

“Yes,” I return softly, “Isn’t it amazing?”

He nods. Then, “Was that one a hole-in-one?”

I smile. “Of course!” I say, “He always aces his shots!”

“At least we’re not the ball he uses,” he sighs.

No, we’re not. He does just enough to display his power. He loves us too much to do any more. I cradle my brother close and we wait out the rest of the storm together.

N_Ameless in Fiction

17 reads

enLightn’ing

The Sun is always bright.

But the only ones who know it - abandoned it a majority of the Night.

The Sun gets Lonely , and sends the Moon in its place.

The Moon isn't always enough

Sometimes, Sun needs to be heard to re-affirm it isn't just on our minds during the day.

Thunder brings rain , So Shouts into the Darkness help hydrate the

Fray

Sun, tell us your secrets

No need to Whisper

shiffa84 in Fiction

22 reads

The birthright of storm clouds both young and those old

A jagged line spasming in shimmering gold

Slicing the sky, cutting up its void tenfold.

Fruit of the feud between beings transcendent

On mere mortal lives nor weather dependent

Greying-hair colored in conflict too sentient.

Lovers feel it in their hearts; elders in bones

Tribal shamans see it in strewn sticks and stones

Approaches rolling thunder, skies’ raspy moans.

Perhaps the pull is not so foreign at all

Perhaps it’s nature that enchants droplets’ fall

Perhaps we are answering a primal call?

But what are dying clouds that clash with the new

But reflections of our own earthly venue

Sparked with vigor each generation anew.

Streaks drawn across the sky by a godly hand

Mirror our reverie like footprints in sand

For the heavens are still a humanly land.