Category Archives: 05/2010

Perversion is in the Eye of the…

Written by Ken Carman

After he finished she felt dirty. She excused herself and went to the bathroom where she turned on the shower. Yet no amount of hot or cold water could help the way she felt. She used up the whole bar of soap trying to cleanse herself; but failed. Then she dried herself and, when she came back into the bedroom, he was gone.

She considered crawling back into the shower.

“Maybe if I scratch myself until I bleed I’ll feel better?”

But just then her husband walked in the front door. He looked at her with a condescending gaze and asked, “Did Jeff stop by?”

“Yes.”

“Did you do it?”

She considered lying to him just to annoy him, though she didn’t want to have to go back to the marriage counselor. Her voice managed to squeak out a meek, “Yes.”

Long silence.

Then his annoyed gaze turned slowly turned into a broad smile.

“I knew you could do it. I was hoping you weren’t a serial monogamist. Wait until I tell the guys you nailed the biggest stud in town!”

He left in a hurry and she knew he wouldn’t be back for a while. He’d be in the kitchen: on the phone, bragging to all his friends just how great a lay she was and that they should come over too. She felt very, very ill: like cancer was eating her heart out slowly.

“Maybe I should get help,” She said to herself. “I mean we all know that monogamy is a sickness: selfish denial of what God gave us. Didn’t Jesus did say we should love one another?”

All the reasons society disapproved of only bedding one person for the rest of your life came flooding in to her head, making her feel guilty for feeling as way she did. Yet, as she had many, many times before; she imagined herself living in a different kind of society where monogamy was the norm. And as sick, and as perverse, as that fantasy was considered… it made her feel more than a little horny.

She went through the door and walked into the kitchen, hoping she might find her husband.
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©Copyright 2010
Ken Carman
all rights reserved

Reflections of Love

Written by Millie Jenny C.

So many different kinds of love
It seeks us out
from the smiles of our parents
and relatives
Even before
we really remember
there are hints of love.
Soft murmurings
as we grow
from an embryo

Then
The voices of encouragement
as we reach out
and try
To understand
those surrounding our crib
then our bed
as we emerge
and grow
with increasing awareness

Friendships
that we cultivate carefully
taking chances
and then
shrinking back
as love hurts
Sometimes
we can become so wary
that we fail to understand the true nature of love. . .
It means risking being hurt

Family ties
that should be there infused with love
hurt so much when they fall short
Or even worse. . .

And yet love cannot happen. . .
will not shine bright
without holding our heart in suspense
Giving love that chance to bloom

Romantic love
can be the most rewarding of all
It can reach out and touch us
in the most funny and poignant ways
This kind of love
can start slowly and build to a crescendo
Or can start intensely
and continue to bloom
seem to fade
and bloom again
. . .this time even stronger
or with an increasing level of depth.

If. . .
and when
we let the tendrils of love take us unaware
and show us its many wandering paths and avenues
We can drink deep of the sweet nectar of love

And when the full bloom of love occurs
whether romantic
family
or friendship
it can be so sweet
. . .it risks overwhelming intoxication.

So take time to reflect every day. . .
Taking the risk. . .
taking that chance
those chances
That will allow love to take seed

Even from the weakest starts
the shakiest roots
that despite the weeds
or the rocks
somehow continue
to find its way
through the feltergarb
and through the maze
And take us completely unaware
with the strength and endurance

…of love’s magic
_________________________________
©Copyright 2/9/2009
Millie Jenny C.
all rights reserved
(Note: this version edited to provide a different perspective from the previous version by Lutin Muse)


Image courtesy myopera.com

The Day My Over Watered Flowers Died

Written by Lilith Raymour

Finally
A sunny day
After way too much rain
For my flower garden
Near a phone line…

The phone rang
The sound of rain pouring
Over the earpiece
Hung up

Sunny day

The phone rang
Answered
But only heard
More rain
Hung up

Sunny day?

Went to look
Storm clouds
Then rain poured
Phone rang

Flowers
Over the phone
As they died
Cried…

We tried to warn you
________________________________
©Copyright 2010
Lilith Raymour
all rights reserved

And You Will Deny Me

Image courtesy Stargate: The Ark of Truth and Wiki

Written by Ken Carman

In 2163 Time Adventure Corp started offering one time trips back to the past. These wormhole-based events were only possible because the newest in computing tech predicted where and when these random events would happen. Only very specific wormholes were usable for time travel, and only to certain destinations all assessed by sophisticated computer tech. Since moving the equipment via spaceship to various locations, and the equipment itself, were all hideously expensive, these trips were often purchased by large special interest groups and military contractors. What follows is a brief synopsis of one event as verified by control room devices, including commentary by the Controller. More to follow as this event is investigated.

“I watched the travelers come back through the portal quietly. All you could hear was the hum of the flat blue-green force field with just a few red streaks swirling in the middle: the wormhole trying desperately to break through and the force field resisting. The fact they were quiet raised an immediate red flag with me because the two groups couldn’t stop arguing before they left: mostly ‘What ifs.’ ‘If we find, will you avoid admitting Atheism, or Christianity, had been proven wrong headed, invalid, a false doctrine?'”

“So I called the leaders of the two teams over to the control board to talk, as the rest slowly came through and went to decontamination and dressing rooms, to take off their period costumes.”

“Before I could even ask, Rathsfeld: part of the Christian group of travelers, started yelling.”

This is the conversation as recorded by devices in the event room…

“You sent us to the wrong time period. That was not Jesus. Our pocket translators provided plenty of evidence he was not the real Jesus. Most of what he said wasn’t even in the Bible, and what he said that did seem biblical was so skewed it was as if he was interpreting the Bible… he didn’t look like any of the art or the Shroud…no, not Jesus at all. You sent us to a later period where some heretic was perverting his word.”

“No, I’m sure we…”

Then Lenman, the head of group of Atheists interrupted, “And what about those ‘miracles?’ They had to be typical parlor tricks.”

“Oh, so you came back proving what you wanted to prove: Jesus was a fraud, a sham or didn’t even exist.”

“No.”

“You saw sleight of hand? Devices with gimmicks? So how did he do them? You’ll have to tell us.”

“That’s the problem. We couldn’t tell. He was good… but we both agree: ‘not as packaged.'”

Rathsfeld made an annoyed, insulting snort and said, “‘Packaged?’ I certainly would never use ‘packaged’ to describe God’s word. And, no he wasn’t ‘good.’ He was a smelly heretic and those weren’t even the same supposed miracles he performed. That’s not what the Bible said he did.”

“I thought you’d be happy,” the Controller said to Lenman, the head of the Atheist group.

“No, we both feel cheated. You sent us back to witness a rather talented someone who may have simply been a prior to Houdini, Copperfield, or more recently Xan or Smith.”

Then in unison they said, “We want our money back.”

“You know the rules. You signed the contract that said ‘no refunds…’ You… wait….”

The Controller looked around the now empty room.

“What happened to Bar? The equipment says we’re missing one traveler that matches his weight, height… I watched: he didn’t come through.”

“Bar who?”

“Your guide. That’s his nickname here.”

“Oh, Dear Lord, no, no, no…” the Christian leader said. “We were hungry. Our supplies had been stolen went we first got there. Who could we complain to and not risk getting caught? After we ‘borrowed’ some food we were discussing how disappointed we were with what we’d seen. He told us he was going to give the rest of the food to some poor people we saw. We must have been so busy talking and agreeing we’d been sent to the wrong time we didn’t notice he was still missing.”

“Where did you see the poor people?”

“By the market.”

“By the market right next to…”

“…where Pilate judged…”

“Yes.”

“Unless either of you want to go grab him and come right back right now, I’m afraid he’s on his own. This event is closing in a few seconds. But you will be right back the same second on in our time. You are the only ones who can do it. You know the actual events, the exact terrain, who to avoid, which way he headed to get there and where he might be found. It has to be you.”

Both were silent.

“Oh. Are you afraid if you go back you may find out you both are wrong?”

Silence.

“You’re just going to leave Bar back there; trying to give away stolen food… to possibly get caught as a thief? Just so you know, his full name is Barab Bass. You know, as in Barabbas? One part of the story. Possibly proven true. Because you did nothing. Last chance… the portal is closing…”

They just shook their head “no” and walked silently to decontamination.

When asked how he felt about the problematic end to the event, the Controller simply added…

“I decided that I might head that way too when my shift was done. Yet I was afraid that no amount of decontamination could wipe the both of them off my skin, or un-stain their souls.”
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©Copyright 2010
Ken Carman
all rights reserved

Antonio Ciseri‘s depiction of Ecce Homo with Jesus and Pontius Pilate, 19th century.

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