300 Words or Less!

Lord willing one of these days i might start back with the stories of the traveling to the celestial kingdom .
You were in it dear sister . Remember .

Wynona said:

I remember!

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Ol pepe remembers too .

I came. I saw. I believed. Told others.

They say time heals all wounds. “What are you even doing in here?” her father asked. “All you do is cause trouble,” he said referring to the drunk that hit on her at the bar, resulting in his having to kick him—a paying customer—out of their barbecue joint. “It is your fault” went unspoken, but it didn’t need to be spoken, being right there in “All you do is cause trouble.” There it was the message, the one she sensed all along in every word, every look, every frown of disapproval from her father, to which, within her thoughts her response was always the same, “where else am I supposed to go?”
Things were different way back then; inside toilets and television were the new rage, moonshine was still a decent way to make extra cash, the introduction of cars with a rumble seat… and “Mush-Rat-Slide” called so because of its muddy street and neglected homes. Mush-Rat-Slide was her home. The muddy street where she dreams of a mother home at night to tuck her. Where she dreams of coming home from the barbecue joint before the am hours to prepare for school the best day. A place where men didn’t get drunk and flirt with young children, or where a father would never ask, “what are you doing here? You always cause trouble.”

Mush-Rat-Slide is long gone, along with her father and mother. Oh, she still lives over at Mush-Rat-Slide but the name has been healed; being replaced by a paved street and newly built homes. “Nothing looks the same.” She says riding shot-gun through, as if seeing it all anew “everything has changed.”

Except for one thing, that doesn’t change, “Why are you even here? All you do is cause trouble.” Three failed marriages later, one bent spine from the physical abuse, a body worn out from the wear and tear of it all, even a mind failing with long age…time has not healed this one thing: “what are you doing here? All you do is cause trouble.” It circulates, repeats, circulates, repeats…around and around in the slow passing, dragging of time. With every tick, every tock in the quiet passing of the clock…

They say time heals all wounds. But they also say that it takes a thousand words of approval, to cover up one ill word of disapproval. Yesterday she said “I talk to the good Lord all the time, but He doesn’t listen to me.”

My first thought was she meant that God doesn’t give her what she wants. But then it hit me, that maybe, what she meant was that same message on repeat “what are you doing here? All you do is cause trouble.”

Here's a little story i've woven around an incident involving a woman we'll call Jessica in Mark chapter 5..

JESSICA
Jessica had a good life in ancient Israel, she grew into a fine young woman, got married and had children, and was kind and friendly to all.
Like everyone else, she knew the story of the young carpenter from Nazareth who the snooty priests had killed years before when she was just a little girl, and she often used to sit and think about him and wished she'd seen him.
The years passed, and grey hairs began to appear. Her dear father died of old age, and then her mother became gravely ill. As she sat at her bedside holding her hand and talking to her, their conversation turned to years gone by.
"Mum" she said, "you were a young woman when Jesus was alive, and i just wonder if you ever saw him?"
Her mother looked up into her eyes and said with a gentle smile:- "Well yes, as a matter of fact he came to our town one day when you were just a little girl, but you wouldn't remember because you were...very ill.."
"Wow mum!" replied Jessica "and did you manage to catch a glimpse of him among all the crowds?"
"Yes i did, in fact he came down our very street!" replied her mother.
"Really?" asked Jessica in wide-eyed astonishment.
"Yes darling" answered her mother, "and as a matter of fact your dad ran out to him and asked him to come into our house"
Hearing this, Jessica's jaw dropped in amazement.
"Oh mum, thats fantastic!..I wish i hadn't been ill or i'd have remembered it, and i could have held his hand and talked to him!"
"Darling" replied her mother tenderly, "I've never told you this before, but when he came in he held your hand and he spoke to you!"
"Wow thats absolutely incredible mum!" said Jessica in delight, "And what did he say to me?"
Her mother looked into her beloved daughters eyes and replied:- "He said to you softly and gently 'Get up little girl'.."
"Ooh and what happened then mum?"
"You came back to life darling" answered her mum, "he brought you back to us.."

amigo de christo said:

Lord willing one of these days i might start back with the stories of the traveling to the celestial kingdom .
You were in it dear sister . Remember .

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Now that sounds good. I always enjoy reading them. Some bits of them are very humorous as well. Praise the Lord.

From the darkness I was caught up in the spirit above the earth.

A great sea of people tossed before a frozen wall of ice reaching up into the heavens which I began to beat upon with my fists. Large chunks of the ice began to fall and a massive door opened before me. Through the door was a narrow stairway leading up into the sky, at the top was my father.

I then found myself on the stairway in the midst looking back at the doorway. In through the door came babies, infants, wrapped in white linen blankets the way mothers wrap their newborn children. I reached out and took the first and pasted it up to my father's open arms, then reached for another and another and another, and did the same until I lost count.

Then like a shot--I was back in the darkness in a cold sweat. But the Lord had spoken, and I heard Him.

Wynona said:

I would like to invite everyone to try their hand at writing a mini story or micro story.

It could even be less than ten words. I once read one that went something like this:

Baby Shoes. For Sale. Never Worn.

Would love to see what we come up with!! Am tagging some folks

@LadyofFireandLace @shortangel @amigo de christo @Marvelloustime @devin553344 @L3astAm0ngManyB13ss3d @Lambano @MatthewG @Nancy @Ferris Bueller @Angelina @Karl Peters
@stunnedbygrace @Enoch111

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Oh, that's a sad story.

Wynona said:

I would like to invite everyone to try their hand at writing a mini story or micro story.

It could even be less than ten words. I once read one that went something like this:

Baby Shoes. For Sale. Never Worn.

Would love to see what we come up with!! Am tagging some folks

@LadyofFireandLace @shortangel @amigo de christo @Marvelloustime @devin553344 @L3astAm0ngManyB13ss3d @Lambano @MatthewG @Nancy @Ferris Bueller @Angelina @Karl Peters
@stunnedbygrace @Enoch111

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Oh, that's a sad story.

I tried but i can't make my short story work with only 300 words.


I have enjoyed the other posts here.
Nice.

Wynona said:

Great story, I love how you included the above statement because it's so true!!

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I saw your thread last night after my mom fell again. You inspired me to work out some thoughts concerning my mother. Mostly what she meant by her comment that God doesn’t listen to her. I’m sorry if I went over 300 words; I didn’t count but pretty sure i went over.

Here's another little story of mine based on John 4:26 around a woman we'll call Leonora..

Leonora had had a rough life. A string of lovers had treated her bad, and now she'd ended up with another one here in this remote village miles from anywhere, bored stiff and feeling as if life was passing her by.
Then her latest fancy man shouted from the other room telling her to go get some water, so she picked up the bucket and trudged wearily down the road in the sweltering heat.
A few travellers who she'd never seen before were sitting there in the shade of the trees near the well looking tired, yet good-humouredly talking among themselves, and one of them smiled and asked if she'd draw some water for them.
He chatted a bit more with her about "living water" and other matters, and about her poor track record with men who used her like a doormat.
She told him how she yearned for the bright lights of Jerusalem where things happened and where it said in the ancient scriptures the Messiah would appear, though if and when that would be, nobody knew.
She said she liked to dream what he'd be like, a warrior king maybe, in bright silver armour riding a proud white horse, and that he'd explain everything to the people once and for all.
"Huh! i'll never see the Messiah stuck out here" she said as a tear rolled down her cheek, "when I die that'll be it, nobody'll remember me or even know I existed, and he wouldn't want to talk to a nobody like me anyway".
The man gently brushed away her tear with his fingertips, lifted her chin, gazed straight into her eyes and softly replied with a smile:- "I'm him. He's talking to you now.."
And the woman in that tiny remote village long ago will be remembered in the Bible until the end of time..

This isn’t a story I wrote. I wish it was. I hope you’ll like and find some value in it.

Fable: Don’t Argue With Donkeys

The donkey said to the tiger: “The grass is blue.”

The tiger replied: “No, the grass is green.”

The discussion heated up and the two decided to submit to arbitration, and for this they went before the lion, the King of the Jungle.

Already before reaching the forest clearing, where the lion was sitting on his throne, the donkey began to shout: “Your Highness, is it true that the grass is blue?”

The lion replied: “True, the grass is blue.”

The donkey hurried and continued: “The tiger disagrees with me, and contradicts and annoys me. Please punish him.”

The king then declared: “The tiger will be punished with 5 years of silence.”

The donkey jumped cheerfully and went on his way, content and repeating: “It’s true. It’s true. The grass is blue.”

The tiger accepted his punishment, but he asked the lion: “Your Majesty, why have you punished me? After all, the grass is green.”

The lion replied: “In fact, the grass is green.”

The tiger asked: “So why are you punishing me?”

The lion replied: “That has nothing to do with the question of whether the grass is blue or green. The punishment is because it is not possible for a brave and intelligent creature like you to waste time arguing with a donkey, and on top of that come and bother me with that question.”

The worst waste of time is arguing with the fool and fanatic who does not care about truth or reality, but only the victory of his beliefs and illusions. Never waste time on arguments that don’t make sense.

There are people who, no matter how much evidence we present to them, do not have the capacity to understand; and others who are blinded by ego, hatred and resentment. All they want to do is be right even when they are not.

When ignorance screams, intelligence is silent. Your peace and quiet are worth more.

(Author unknown)