Science-Fiction Short Story

Well.
Ahem.
It's... um, well, it's been two months.

Hi, anyway!

This is a (very) short story I wrote for school.  It was supposed to be an essay about a futuristic piece of equipment, but my tutor let me turn it into a dialogue.  It's a rather crazy piece; I believe it is also my first "Sci-fi."  I thought I'd share it with you all.  Enjoy!

Psychic Colloquy

One couldn’t help meeting a few odd people when working as a salesman, but Alex still didn’t think that dealing with hooded monks was in the job description.  No one was supposed to wear cloaks and hoods and tunic-y things—not in this millennium.  To boot, the clothes looked scratchy and—well, organic.  Alex had never seen wool before, but he wondered if he was seeing it now. 

Wearing this odd attire was a woman who looked to be in her early forties who had just walked through the door of the store.  Despite her conspicuous costume, the woman looked quite at her ease underneath her head of copious black hair.  She had sharp black eyes and a sharp nose and a sharp chin, and Alex was willing to hazard a guess that there were very sharp elbows underneath that cloak.

But a job’s a job.

“How can I help you?”      

The strange woman leaned forward, and for the first time Alex noticed that, on top of everything else, she was chewing on the end of a very long blade of grass.  “Well, I’m looking to add to a collection of mine, you see,” she began, and as she spoke she rested her elbows on the counter.  “What’s your name?”

“It’s Alex.”

Tilting her head, the woman asked, “Isn’t that a rather… archaic name, now?”  Alex shrugged in reply.  His customer continued in a conversational tone, “Because it can be a little confusing.  Just sometimes.”  She lowered her voice conspiratorially, “I’ve just come back from what used to be Italy.  Visiting abbeys.  Thirteenth century.  Amazing, those monks.  Just amazing.  I got some superb additions to my collection.”

Realization hit.  “You’re at time-traveler?” Alex asked.  “I thought they were still figuring out how that works.”

The woman immediately frowned and demanded, “What’s the date?”  Alex told her.  “Oh,” she nodded, “Don’t worry then, you still have about fifty years.

“Back to business,” she resumed briskly, “I collect technology from different periods; souvenirs, if you will.  And you look like the man who can sell me what I need.  So—what’s the latest fad?  What’s the newest wonder no one wants to live without?”

Alex stooped under the counter obligingly and fished up a few very small boxes.  “Psychic Colloquy,” he explained.

“Oh, I remember hearing of those!  Went out of fashion almost sixty years ago, those did.”  Alex knit his brow, but his customer didn’t notice.  “Aren’t they supposed to read your mind and send your thoughts to the ear of someone who’s also wearing one?”

Alex stepped into his salesman role.  “Yes.  But your friend will have his own unique number that the device sends your thoughts to, so any communication using the device is private.  These things are very hard to hack.”  He opened one of the boxes, gently taking out two small pieces of curiously-shaped plastic.  “How it works is: you take this one piece and tuck it behind your ear.  Then this other piece, the clear one, goes in your ear.  The one behind the ear is reading your thoughts and transmitting them, and the one in the ear is receiving transmissions.”

“But it obviously doesn’t read all of your thoughts.  How does that work?” 

“It can only read your most clear thoughts, the ones that are foremost in your mind and are actually put in words.  To send a transmission, you have to begin the thought with the name of the person you want to receive it, and conclude the transmission with ‘End message.’  There’s also a setting that lets you hear your message and revise it before it is sent.  To turn the device on or off, you have to think very clearly, ‘Psychic on,’ or ‘Psychic off.’”

“Like walkie-talkies, only you don’t have to speak out loud,” the time-traveler mused.

“Walkie-talkies?”

“Never mind.  So—I’m guessing spies like these types of things?”

Alex grinned “You bet.  We also get orders from the military, and it’s rather popular with celebrities who like to get tips from their staff offstage.  We even have a product line for kids—not recommended for use in school, of course.”

“Wouldn’t it be rather distracting if you’re using this Psychic Colloquy thingy and trying to have a normal, face-to-face conversation at the same time?”

“Well, it’s not recommended for that type of use.”

“Recommended,” the woman mocked, the long blade of grass bobbing comically.  “What is it recommended for?”

“It was made to be reminiscent of ‘texting,’ which is a form of communication they had some decades ago.  While texting when driving was illegal, Psychic Colloquy doesn’t require the use of your hands.”

“Still sounds distracting to me.  Are there any glitches in how the gadget works?  No, let me rephrase that.  Have you had any law suits?”

Alex did his best to appear scandalized.  “I—”

“Come now, be honest!”

 “Some people believe the transmission waves are slowly radiating users’ brains,” he complied, blushing, “But we contend that the radiation is very minor, and we’re currently doing lab tests to prove that.” 

The grass blade dipped sharply, as if it doubted what the lab tests would prove.  “How do you think this mind-reading technology has changed the culture?  How has it impacted people’s mindsets?”

Alex lost it.  He said something no salesman ever should:  “Are you actually planning to buy this thing?”

The woman made a motion as if shooing a fly.  “Of course I’m buying it.  It’s for my collection; I don’t care whether it works or not.  Would you answer my question?”

Trying to hide his irritation, Alex replied, “The Psychic has been of great advantage to the military.  Among civilians, both news and gossip travels faster.  I suppose,” he paused, “I suppose, because spreading information is so easy, people don’t as carefully consider what they’re sharing.  But that’s life, isn’t it?”

“Sounds interesting enough,” his customer determined.  “What’s the price?”

The gadget was paid for and tucked under the time traveler’s arm.  “Ah,” she exclaimed, “Now I’ll be off to Ancient Egypt!  Thank you very much for your help.  Have a good day… what was your name?  Oh, yes, Alex.  Have a good day, Alex.  Good-bye!”  And she strode out the door, wool hood bouncing behind her.  Alex partially collapsed against the counter in exhaustion.

Well, he concluded, that’s what one got for talking to hooded monks.

finis.

 

Any comments? Really, any?

Panis de Deo

“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in Me.  In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you.  And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am."

--John 14:1-3

Harry Potter: A Review

My apologies for not posting in the last week.  I don't have anything like a good excuse to offer, so I'll just shut up and get on with this book review...

So.  I've finally read some Harry Potter.  My brother and I have breezed through the first three books: The Philosopher's Stone, The Chamber of Secrets, and The Prisoner of Azkaban.  We enjoyed them pretty well.  So now it is time for me to attempt to give a balanced review.  This review is for the beginning of the series in general.  From what I've heard, things get darker as the series progresses.

HARRY POTTER REVIEW- the first three books, at least
Here is the link to the Squeaky Clean Review for the first book (you can find the others from there).
Disclaimer: I unashamedly write from a Christian perspective.

The POSITIVE.
The best element of Harry Potter is the writing.  The plots are breath-taking.  You think you know who the bad guy is, and then BAM!  It's actually the last person you'd expect.  I giggled and laughed.  I was on the edge of my seat.  These are very hard books to put down.  There are no hanging threads in this series-- every single tiny event will be shown to be vital:  And if not in that book, then in the next.  I envy this writer's talent.
Another positive element is that Harry Potter's best protection from evil is love.  How many books have that, eh?  When Harry Potter is saved from the baddie the first time, it is because his mother loved him so much she let herself die instead of Harry, something Voldemort can't understand.  And that continues to play a large role through the series.

The NEGATIVE.
Well, there's the magic.  That's a major part of the stories, but I know it can digested by some people better than others, so I'm not going to condemn (nor discount) the magic right off the bat.  For me, I began to be disturbed in The Prisoner of Azkaban with the divination classes.  Even though the fortune-telling was shown to be phony, the palm-reading and such was still creepy to me.  More so than the whole the-dementors-will-suck-out-all-your-happy-thoughts-and-finally-your-soul thing, which I guess is odd.  In any case, Harry Potter is not for those who don't like wands and flying broomsticks in their stories.
On another note, the kids break the school rules constantly, even when the rules are obviously in place for the students' welfare.  They hardly ever get punished properly.  Then the reader is faced with the fact that the bad guy would probably never have been defeated if the children had not broken the rules.  Not the best way to set an example for the young people reading the books, is it?
Language wise, there's some uses of d--- and the Lord's name in vain.  At one point, a character starts to say an insult, but is cut off, and many readers' minds will fill it in as a Vulgar Name for Illegitimate Children.

THINK ABOUT IT.
Something interesting struck me while I was reading these books.  Despite all the magic, what a sad little world the characters inhabit.  Look how close their world is to disaster:  Voldemort is so powerful, and the only person who can defeat him is maybe Dumbledore or maybe Harry. 
And then it amazed me to see this contrasted with the real world:  Where the end of time is already written, and we can know Who wins!  Where our King can defeat Satan with one little word!  We write stories as a way to reflect God's Ultimate Story, but our little creations can only look deathly pale in the glory of His handiwork.  What an awesome God and what an awesome world we live in!

CONCLUSION.
I've been putting off entering the world of Harry Potter for quite a while.  Now I might have a few friends saying to me, "See-- told you you would like them."
But, after all, I think it was a good idea (in my case) to wait until I felt ready to read the series with a level head.  I think I would recommend the first books if just to enjoy J.K. Rowling's incredible writing style.  But I seriously warn any reader to keep in mind that she is not a Christian, and her writing will reflect that.  We must "Test all things, [and] hold fast what is good." (1 Thessalonians 5:21)
So enjoy, but with caution.  (:


Oh, and-- well, a little late now, but Bookworm Day was yesterday.  November 29th is the combined birthdays of C.S. Lewis, Madeleine D'Engle, and Louisa May Alcott.  Have a bookworm-ish weekend, all!  God bless!
ps. Did Azkaban make anyone else think of Alcatraz? I mean, their names sound the same and they're both on islands...

Filling the Void

This is a paper I wrote for school and wanted to share.  The testimony is real.  It has been one of my favorite papers to write, as it let me discuss a subject I love to talk about:  The God-sized hole in our hearts.

Why Should We Want Jesus?

~*~ 

The month before I turned twelve, I was a mess.  Five months earlier my family had moved from the suburbs where we had lived for my whole life to a small town where the only people I knew were my grandmother and my uncle.  A decade’s worth of friendships had been pulled out from underneath my feet.  I didn’t fit into the new town as of yet, but I knew that my old life was left behind forever.  I felt pretty homeless.  Perhaps the biggest shock was to discover just how frail my settled, adjusted lifestyle had been.

I had been so comfortable in my established life I had been able to convince myself that I didn’t need God.  When that sense of security was blown apart by the move, I was faced with the fact that my life was empty and had always been empty.  And it would continue to be empty unless I let Jesus fill that void.

I know what it means to push away Christ and to pretend I don’t need Him.  I did not want Christ in my life.  Praise the Lord that “God’s gifts and His call are irrevocable!” (Romans 11:29)

Why do we need Jesus?  Why should we want Him interfering in our lives?  The Westminster Shorter Catechism attempts to answer this with its very first question:

Q:  What is the chief end of man?  

A:  Man’s chief end is to glorify God, and to enjoy him forever.

Humans were wired since the beginning of time to need the strong presence of our Creator in our lives.  Without Him we are only shells of what we are meant to be.  To quote Saint Augustine, “Because God has made us for Himself, our hearts are restless until they rest in Him.”

The psalmist writes, “As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for You, O God.  My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.”  (Psalms 42:1, 2)

C.S. Lewis adds, “All that we call human history—money, poverty, ambition, war, prostitution, classes, empires, slavery—[is] the long terrible story of man trying to find something other than God which will make him happy.”

When we exclude God from our lives, there is a void within in us that refuses to be filled by anything in this world.  It is a “God-sized hole” in our hearts, as some have called it.  We can pretend that it does not exist, but it is there.

Jesus came to earth to fill that emptiness.  Of believers, He says, “I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” (John 10:8, 10)

We should want Jesus—and through Him, God—because we need Jesus.  We were created to enjoy eternity with Him.  Our sin makes us dirty and creates a barrier between us and God’s holiness, but Jesus destroyed that barrier by taking the penalty for our sin on the cross.  Now, He again offers us the chance of spending eternity with Him.

And that is the true prize:  Not Heaven itself, per se, but to spend infinity in the company of our glorious Savior.  We do not want Heaven because of its golden streets, but because it is where our hearts are full.  We desire Heaven because of the presence of our God.

Because we were made to be with Him.

finis.

Please respect my work and don't steal it.  Thanks!
And sorry for some of the odd formatting -- sometimes this blog is wacky.  --Rachel

Panis de Deo

Just gorgeous, this passage.

               When my heart was grieved
                   and my spirit embittered,
                I was senseless and arrogant;
                   I was a brute beast before You.

               Yet I am always with You;
                   You hold me by my right hand.
               You guide me with Your counsel,
                   and afterward You will take me into glory.
               Whom have I in heaven but You?
                   And earth has nothing I desire besides You.
               My flesh and my heart may fail,
                   but God is the strength of my heart
                   and my portion forever.

--Psalm 73:21-26

quote!

I have found G.K. Chesterson.  The guy was awesome. 

“Love means to love that which is unlovable; or it is no virtue at all.”

--G.K. Chesterson

Panis de Deo

               He gives strength to the weary
                   and increases the power of the weak.
               Even youths grow tired and weary,
                   and young men stumble and fall;
               but those who hope in the Lord
                   will renew their strength.
               They will soar on wings like eagles;
                   they will run and not grow weary,
                   they will walk and not be faint.

--Isaiah 40:29-31

Literary Descriptions

Have you ever read a description in a book and then breathed in wonder: "How beautiful! I can just see it!" Well, I have actually been keeping track of my Favorite Descriptive Lines, and have been trying to add to it.  For right now I just have two. If you know some good ones, please share in the comments!

 

__________________________________________________________________________________ 

 

Great shadows sprang up and fled, and for a second they saw a vast roof far above their heads upheld by many pillars hewn of stone. Before them and on either side stretched a huge empty hall; its black walls, polished and smooth as glass, flashed and glittered... Then the light went out.

-- The Fellowship of the Ring, by J.R.R. Tolkien
 

The walls of Palace Var trembled again, broke into millions of tiny pieces, and fell as rose petals drifting across the blighted plains of Arpiar.

-- Moonblood, by Anne Elisabeth Stengl

 

I Guess This Post Is About My Cat

Well, my poor readers, I thought.  I've been too busy for them lately.  They must feel so dejected.  I must do my best to make up for my absence.  Of course -- I'll give them a handful of cat pictures they don't care twopence about!  There will be nothing more soothing for their heartache.

Don't be too mad with me.

To start it off:

This is the little guy who made an undeniable impression in an earlier post of mine: Skittles.  He's my baby.  Demanding, stubborn, mischievous, and oh-so-cute.  A cuddler and a rascal.  And currently a flea-bag.  We're working on that bit. 

 

This is him doing aerobics!

 

He was sleeping like this.  I mean, his torso is turned almost 180 degrees from his hindquarters!  I don't know a large number of cats, but I'm pretty sure that this is unusual.  ;P

I AM motion!

 

Playing with the camera strap

 

 And one last pic for cuteness:

Panis de Deo

          Why do you complain, Jacob?
               Why do you say, Israel,
          “My way is hidden from the Lord;
               my cause is disregarded by my God”?
          Do you not know?
               Have you not heard?
          The Lord is the everlasting God,
               the Creator of the ends of the earth.
          He will not grow tired or weary,
               and his understanding no one can fathom.

-- Isaiah 40:27, 28

Panis de Deo

          Lift up your eyes and look to the heavens:
               Who created all these?
          He who brings out the starry host one by one
               and calls forth each of them by name.
          Because of his great power and mighty strength,
               not one of them is missing.

--Isaiah 40:26

Book Reviews?

When I first began this blog, I thought I would be writing some book reviews.  And I think I will be, but they will be the type that praise (or critique) the writing or the philosophy contained in the story.  (Hey, philosophy's cool!  In little bits.  Please don't be scared of me...)

So I thought I would recommend to you all a great website that better examines stories' moral content: Squeaky Clean Reviews.  I know, great name, right?  They will tell you if a book has swearing, sexual content, any questionable spirituality, etc.  They're pretty thorough.  All books are held to a Christian standard.  Reviews are written by other teenagers and adults and are edited (if necessary) by the website editors.

Yes, I am one of the many reviewers on there.  But I won't tell you who!

God bless!

Panis de Deo

          He brings princes to naught
               and reduces the rulers of this world to nothing.
          No sooner are they planted,
               no sooner are they sown,
               no sooner do they take root in the ground,
          than he blows on them and they wither,
               and a whirlwind sweeps them away like chaff.

 

          “To whom will you compare me?
          Or who is my equal?” says the Holy One.

--Isaiah 40:23-25

quote!

From C.S. Lewis, of course.  Hey, it's not my fault the guy said such cool things!

I really love this one...

 

“There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations - these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub and exploit - immortal horrors or everlasting splendors. This does not mean that we are to be perpetually solemn. We must play. But our merriment must be of that kind (and it is, in fact, the merriest kind) which exists between people who have, from the outset, taken each other seriously - no flippancy, no superiority, no presumption.”

― C.S. Lewis (emphasis added)

Panis de Deo

     Do you not know?
          Have you not heard?
     Has it not been told you from the beginning?
          Have you not understood since the earth was founded?
     He sits enthroned above the circle of the earth,
          and its people are like grasshoppers.
     He stretches out the heavens like a canopy,
          and spreads them out like a tent to live in.

 

-- Isaiah 40:20-22 (NIV)

 

God bless!

That Short Story I've Been Promising...

 

Worth Something

~A short story~

I think the first time my brother and I experienced the brevity of life was with my grandfather. 

I was twelve then, a young girl still learning when to speak and when not to.  Still learning the demands of the world outside my own.  Not that I fully understand those things now.  I was more myself then, I guess.  More honest with my thoughts.

Cory was a year younger than me.  He was five parts fun, six parts annoying, and a hundred percent little brother.  He was all right.

It all started when Grandpa had a stroke.  Before that, he hadn’t been very interesting to Cory and me.  He was a rather tall man with short gray hair who liked to pretend that he was younger than he really was.  Judging from the way our parents talked of him, he was slightly eccentric.  He was always off somewhere in the world or busy with one of his “projects.”  Cory and I could brag that we had a grandfather who had been in this country or that, but there wasn’t much more to say for him.  When we saw him, he would comment about how we had grown and perhaps give us some small speech about having a good heart or following your dreams.  I think he meant to be inspiring.  Now I see those lectures were too vague and, well, (I have to say it) shallow for them to ever get into our heads.   I suppose Grandpa’s traveling and souvenir-collecting really meant more to him than that type of thing.

Then that stroke came.  Thankfully, he had it while he was in the country.  The attack cost him the use of his left side.  He did retain his speech, though it was slow and broken.

He was moved into an advanced care facility.  Our parents brought Cory and me to visit him in his new apartment several times.  We were there to encourage Grandpa in his recovery because the doctors said that control of his left side could return with time.  We felt bad for Grandpa, of course, but we didn’t like being in that tiny little room any more than he did, I’m sure.  We weren’t really happy to visit.

One time my parents talked with Grandpa some while Cory and I waited outside.  Then Mom and Dad came out to tell us that Grandpa wanted to talk to us alone.  There he sat, his one side horribly limp and a sad smile on his face.

He said, “Tess and Cory.  I’d like to tell you something.  Would you listen to me?”  Cory rolled his eyes (so only I could see) and went to plop stomach-down on the bed.

He called me to the small chair next him, but Cory stayed collapsed on the bed, his chin resting on his fists. 

“Cory,” he began, “And Tess.  You’re young, you see.  You’ve a lot of years ahead of you.  I’ve lived a long while – not as long as other people, I guess, but still rather long.  Oh, I don’t plan on dying anytime soon.  But I’m tuckered out.  Look,” and his weak, leathery hand (his good one) gripped my shoulder, “Look, I’ve talked to you both before about making good choices and having good hearts, but, well, maybe I didn’t really listen to myself.”

His voice continued, broken and very earnest.  It was his unusual earnestness that made me pay attention for once.  “Listen to me, children.  Listen to me.  Your Grandpa is a sad, dejected, weary man.  Jesus saved me when I was younger, but some time ago I started living like He didn’t make any difference at all.  I see it now – all that traveling, all that work – I was just trying to please myself.  Some yearning inside me wanted to be satisfied, and I wanted to satisfy it myself.  I knew I couldn’t, I knew – but I tried anyway.  I knew only Jesus could satisfy that ache, like He had done for me before.  He wanted me to live fully for Him but I didn’t want to give that much of myself.

“Traveling: we think it’s so wonderful.  So free; you’re not just sitting around being a homebody.  That’s why I did it.  You’re told that you’re doing so much with your life.  But there were so many more things I could have done with my time.  So much more love I could have sacrificed.  All that time I spent in selfishness was time squandered.” 

Cory had crept off the bed to kneel by Grandpa’s knee, seemingly fascinated by his words.  Or perhaps he was tired of the bed.  His voice cracking, Grandpa kept on.

“Please.  Please, please don’t let you children do that to yourselves.  The years are so much shorter than you think when you spend it all on yourself.  They just fly by.  Because they’re nothing.  Nothing.  Look, I know you can’t promise, but, please, don’t spend all your time on what God tells you won’t satisfy.  Because it won’t.”

And he pulled us close with his good arm and there were tears in his eyes.  And I sort of gasped, because you don’t expect Grandpa to cry.  Cory was whispering, “It’s all right, Grandpa!”  I hugged Grandpa tight, partly because I wanted to comfort him, partly because I just wanted his tears to stop.  They made me feel I was supposed to be sentimental, which I didn’t want to be.  It’s uncomfortable.

So the beauty of Grandpa’s confession didn’t really hit me that day.  A little less than a year later a second stroke killed him.  It was the first time someone close to me died, and it was a bit of a shock, no matter how his health had been declining. 

I have been growing since then, and I think that speech left an undeniable mark upon me.  I never got to thank Grandpa for it, but maybe Jesus has told him for me.  Grandpa had squandered a lot of his time on selfish things.  He thought he had wasted his life, but he warned Cory and me against wasting ours.  And I think that must count for something, don’t you?

 

finis.

 

So, there it is!  I usually write in omnescient narrative (not to be confused with third-person), which I honestly think is the best narrative to write a novel in.  So writing this loose, first-person account was really fun for me.  Oh, and this is not taken from a true story, by the way.

And I finished reading one of the two novels I was talking about in my last post.  It was AWESOME.  If really complicated.

Please, respect my creative *cough* genius *coughcough* and don’t steal this story.  Many thanks!  – Rachel

And I Went Mad

A Bookworm and Her Books
Those who know me personally know I am generally a serious and practical person.  Coupled with my know-it-all attitude, I also happen to be pretty annoying -- but that's beside the point (for now).

I can assure you that I am really quite crazy; it's just all in my head.  I monitor all my craziness on its way out.  On the inside, I am a deep-thinker -- in a very rambling way -- and actually (who would have thought it!) get very excited about things.

But those who do know me will also know that there are a few things that set me off -- set me off in a good way, I mean.  There are things that set me off in a bad way, too, but I won't get into those.  LOL. 

In case you haven't noticed already, this post is going to ramble even more than usual.  Strap on your seat belts, folks.

Okay, so I have very few things that make me ecstatic/hyper.  It doesn't happen too often.  Perhaps that is partly why my hyper state absolutely terrifies my brothers.  Or perhaps it's the way I go about it.  When I'm ecstatic, I don't know how to get my excitement out properly, so I get really jittery and go around the house spasmodically shouting and punching the air with my fists.  I know, scary, right?  I just act all calm and all of a sudden
 
--------000000000 
*ytwpppppppppggggggsaaaa

Ahem.  Sorry.  That was my teen-aged kitten.  He's practically begging for my attention right now.  He's a very stubborn little guy.  I'll try to keep him m;l .y2lkkk77777777777777fc8 cybkmuuuuuuul0,pj +h */huj

Darn you, Skittles!  *Off to the side* Yeah, yeah, go sit on the bed and look all cute.  Whatever.  And I still have your drool on my arm.

Anyway, what I was saying was, that I'll be calm and then suddenly remember that there's something really exciting!  And then I go into that whole dance-and-giggle-like-a-lunatic thing.

yeesh.  That kitten completely stole the show.  I'd better finish this post up quick.

Just about the only things that really make me as described above are: seeing old friends, BOOKS, Narnia, and maybe an awesomely good movie.

So, this week I got two books in an amazing series (If you want to check it out) that I have been dying to get for about a month.  So I get them.  I've known they were in the mail for a whole weekend.  They're in their neat little packages.  I can just imagine the beautiful covers underneath the paper and the stories inside...

And I have to wait for the weekend to read them.  When all my schoolwork is done.


AND I WENT MAD.

_______________________________________________________
Note: All kitten-scratchings in this post are authentic.  And, don't worry, folks, I'll have that short story up tomorrow or the day after.

Panis de Deo

          To, whom, then, will you compare God?
              What image will you compare him to?
         As for an idol, a craftsman crafts it,
              and a goldsmith overlays it with gold
              and fashions silver chains for it.
          A man too poor to present such an offering
              selects wood that will not rot.
          He looks for a skilled craftsman
              to set up an idol that will not topple.

-- Isaiah 40:18,20

I love passages in the Bible that portray how useless idols are.  Isaiah has quite a few of them, but I think this one from chapter forty-four is my favorite:

Half of the wood he burns in the fire;
over it he prepares his meal,
he roasts his meat and eats his fill.
He also warms himself and says,
“Ah! I am warm; I see the fire.”
From the rest he makes a god, his idol;
he bows down to it and worships.
He prays to it and says,
“Save me! You are my god!”
They know nothing, they understand nothing;
their eyes are plastered over so they cannot see,
and their minds closed so they cannot understand.
No one stops to think,
no one has the knowledge or understanding to say,
“Half of it I used for fuel;
I even baked bread over its coals,
I roasted meat and I ate.
Shall I make a detestable thing from what is left?
Shall I bow down to a block of wood?”
Such a person feeds on ashes; a deluded heart misleads him;
he cannot save himself, or say,
“Is not this thing in my right hand a lie?”

Isaiah is earnestly pleading his case against idols, but you can almost sense a bit of sarcasm, too: as if he's saying, "Hello!?  Don't you see this?"


Later this week: I will be posting another short story. :)