The Finale: When the Gods Spoke #PurposefulShortFiction

Easter is nearly here. On April 1, 2018 most of America will wear their Sunday Best and go to a church to give respects and honor to God’s Son who rose on the third day. Still…

Who is God, why does he seem kind and most diabolical? This short fiction is a combination of pondering and biblical research with a mixture of fantasy but the core of the story remains: Just who is God and does he love us as much as the bible tells us?

Enjoy!

*If you have not already, do read parts 1 and 2 of this spiritual fantasy. Thank you!

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Beautiful One pulled himself back from Silver One and regarded her as one would a difficult puzzle. “You’ve visited my planet already. Do you not see how much I love them?”

She shrugged. “I see. I really do. But they are in pain all the time. I may not see the light in my creation’s eyes, but yours has so many spirits in one flesh! They are so tortured. You have allowed them to create their own systems of beliefs when you decided to keep silent, then punish them eternally when they do not know you? Yes, Beautiful One. I am perplexed.

“You’ve walked among your people, whereas I have not. However, I have danced with them many moons ago, I’ve implanted my essence in their dreams and song. I have programmed them to be healthy and strong. All of them have made shrines in my image without having seeing me in this generation. I do not hide my face as you do.”

When Silver One spoke, her voice was soft, melodic. Not accusing in any way, but more of stating the facts. Beautiful One stroked his beard and suggested they stay on this planet longer. They both inhabited the bodies of ivory-toned women sipping coffee at a coffee shop(so no one knew who they really were). It was quiet and some bookish jazz music played softly in the background.

Beautiful One had to broach the subject, because there is one area all humans are fond of. “Silver One. My people feel pain and some even hail it as pleasure.” A sly smile grew on his face. Or rather, a pleased one.

Silver One exhaled and blew cool air over her coffee. “Ok. I’m all ears.”

“Take sex for example. That one act can cause affliction of the heart and can heal it. My humans have choices of how they wish to explore it and many times it goes against what is written. I am holy, therefore they must be…but I am kind. My humans have…rhythmic bodies, souls. They hurt, they cry, they moan and shout and interestingly enough, these same outward cries of pain can be one of pleasure. Oftentimes, even under a vow when their bodies belong to just that one, they share their bodies with another. Now their souls are split in two because they still love their first, although they will not admit it. What a funny lot!”

“Hopeless, Beautiful One. You are hopeless. You can regulate their pleasure. Make them faithful only to that one.”

“Silver One,” Beautiful One smiled and sipped a bit on his tea. He ordered green tea macha with sprinkles of cinnamon and they got it just right. “Who says I do not regulate anything?  Some are very faithful, almost to the point of obsession and that is also a fine line to walk.

He continued: “Who says I cannot tell the future? Listen: I see infinite possibilities of each one of my own. It is always the final possibility, right before death that intrigues me. Not their death beds, but the last ten or few years before their death when their possibility is no longer corrupt. When they know who they really are. Right as they begin to burn brighter than the stars I’ve hung.”

“And the children who are sick and dying on your world because you refuse to heal them?” Silver One countered.  “What do you see of their futures, or did see of their futures at all?” Silver One leaned back in her chair casually, a winning smile upon her attractive face.

Beautiful One did not hesitate to answer: “Sometimes there are moments before a human copulates when I peer down on them and wonder if the little signs I gave them would be enough.” He looked into his tea as if searching for more validation of why he allow babies to suffer. He found no way to explain. “All children deserve to be here but…I am God and my creation disobeyed me. All must suffer because they are Eve and Adam’s child..”

Silver One said nothing at first. She let it sink in her mind and drank up some more coffee. “This is what I mean, Beautiful One. You go back to announcing who you are as to why innocents must suffer. I know who you are and most atheists care not to know you but they know wind and chaos did not create them. Still, you understand your people’s anguish. No?”

“As I said. One may see years as years. I see generations as one day. Adam and Eve disobeyed me and then their spawn did as well, but I allow them to live and grow and make mistakes. Parents do that, Silver One.”

“Were they the first to make the mistake?”

Beautiful One gave a knowing smile again. Silver One liked when he smiled. “Oh no. They are not. The ones who got it right, survived a perfect ten thousand years before I began with Adam and Eve. This time when I made man, I used the earth and the wind of my breath, and water. Water is a current that moves constantly and can be beautiful and deadly, like people, Silver One. You may not understand my methods, but if there ever were a war between mine and yours, mine has so much drive, so much pain, so much passion- they will endure. It will amaze you.”

“Maybe one day we can arrange a War of the Made, how’s that sound?”

“Good.”

They both got up and anyone watching the reflection in the glass would see one was a tall proud bald silver woman while the other was the color of jasper with a long white beard. Not necessarily giants but they shone like the stars.

They both took a stroll down a well lit park and spoke of things not so cosmic and profound but joked and laughed about mundane things, simple things like how rabbits chase foxes on Earth 2 and how the men are more “sensitive” than women here as well. They also do not understand television and laptops, and social media at all. They understand it, but find it amazing what people tinker with.

After their stroll, Silver One took Beautiful One’s hand. “We are so different but I am glad we have these talks. Do you see why I run things like I do now?”

Beautiful One covered her hand with his own. Who said gods do not love or fall in love? Her large eyes were discs into unknown futures of futures and her lips were pouty as well and skin dusted with light from the moon and stars above, making her glow. “Silver One, you do what you must. I will do the same. You have given me…thought in my actions, or lack thereof.”

Silver One nodded but Beautiful One would not reveal to her his true nature. It would scar her poised shell and leave her blistered in the void. He will not tell her that he is neither male nor female. He will not reveal to her that she is an extension of himself. He will never tell her that these brief talks with her(himself) is what he needs all the time to balance himself.

“Oh! I forgot! What about Satan. Is he still around?” She asks letting her hand slip from his. “It would be cruel if he is still hanging on to tempt people.”

Without a second thought, Beautiful One took Silver One’s slender hand and pulled her hard and fast to his body so he could whisper in her ear: “The light bearer still lives.”

Silver One shivered as confusion riddled her face.

The Beautiful One was still cruel as fresh molten lava spitting upon the innocent in its path.

The End…Maybe.

Copyright 2018 Erica Jean Smith

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This Book Just Painted My Soul a Whole New Shade #TruthinFiction

Here is the gist of The Color of Heaven, taken from Amazon:

A deeply emotional tale about Sophie Duncan, a successful columnist whose world falls apart after her daughter’s unexpected illness and her husband’s shocking affair. When it seems nothing else could possibly go wrong, her car skids off an icy road and plunges into a frozen lake. There, in the cold, dark depths of the water a profound and extraordinary experience unlocks the surprising secrets from Sophie’s past, and teaches her what it means to truly live…and love.

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At first, I had to make sure the book was fiction because as I read it, it was sounding like a well thought out memoir and I could see the colors and taste the hope inside the book. Yes, this eBook packin’ 533 pages, and every moment I could, I had to read and see if Sophie would finally understand why she was abandoned, why she experienced the loss she had and then at some point we segue into the meaning of life…after death.

“Then you see a light- a brilliant, dazzling light- more calming and loving than any words can possibly describe, and everything finally makes sense to you. You are no longer afraid…” (MacLean, pg.11 The Color of Heaven: 2011)

*This book is free on Amazon and Barnes and Noble!*

For the life of me, I can not label this book as fiction. It would…cheapen the story. Yes, technically it is fiction. Never happened.

But…

But…

We’ve all experienced loss. We all dream of what heaven may look like. Through reading The Color of Heaven, I am actually understanding that the moments here on earth MATTER. They are pieces of heaven gifted to us. When you receive a hug from a child- that is heaven.

The beautiful, crisp fall leaves and dinner with family- is heaven.

Tasting the first kiss of real love- is heaven.

I am telling you. I am so inspired by this novel. If you are in a funk and you think the world is literally all darkness- the wonder Sophie experiences will give you the soul-electricity you need. I did not expect it.

Sophie got a glimpse of heaven and the supernatural side of it too. The book had everything: romance, great theme, adoring plot- just overall well written. I just learned there are more books in the series and I am ordering them right now!

More reviews like this? Please subscribe!

~The Write Web

 

Filtered, A Conversation Between Two Gods #ShortFictionFromaCrazyMind

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Photo Credit: Pixabay

 

In this short story, two gods meet across realms to discuss how they govern humans. Could both methods be wrong?

The Beautiful One, shining like jasper, sits upon an invisible throne and overlooks his creation. It has been millennia and more since he made them. He wound the clock, set them up and enjoy watching them from his heavenly view.

“Old Friend!” Beckons Silver One. “Are we well?”

“As well as can be,” Beautiful One looks down on a couple holding hands. His heart paces faster as they engage in a kiss and the soon to be groom plucks a hair behind the bride’s lovely ear.

“If you look to your left, Oh, Beautiful One, there is sand kicking up in that land over there.” Silver One’s platinum fingers rest on Beautiful One’s shoulder. Silver One laughed like a beautiful witch,  yet had the build of a gladiator.

Silver One would remind you Silver Surfer, but could be male or female.

“Yes. I see.”

“Will you not send your messengers to stop it? I hear the cries of the hungry too. They are akin to mewling kittens.”

Beautiful One chuckled, although with a long face full of sadness. “Some of the sand will stop. Someone is praying and they are strong.”

Silver One leaves Beautiful One’s side. He(or she) pulls out a very light, thin device. It is flat and similar to an iPad or a smartphone but much lighter. Silver One plugs in a few codes.

“Whatever are you doing now?”

“Someone’s thoughts went awry. Can’t have that. You know I saw her future ten minutes ago? She was literally going to stab the ones who made her. In their sleep!” Silver One cast white eyes back to the pad. “I’m signaling a messenger now to stop two couples from procreating. I think I may issue death by heart attack before the sex begins. Maybe he will topple over her.” He tsk tsked. “Bad programming or a bug.”

Beautiful One wanted to intervene, tell Silver One that would not be right, but Silver One was a god, just like him. Who was he to tell him(her) they were wrong? Perhaps this was best.

“This keeps you busy then.”

“Yeah. I have a filtering system built into all my humans. Some of them go off code and I have to turn them back to their true selves.”

“I’m quite surprised you allow them to reproduce.”

“Allow? No. Each one has a set time to procreate, dear Beautiful One. Keeps the population balanced.” Silver One clicked away on the device and mumbled something about goblins and guns. “I purposely selected a few to remain sterile for experimental reasons.”

Beautiful One turned his attention back to his people. Someone over in the Americas  was praising a flag before sport and the chorus of a single one lifted to his ears. Such beautiful notes from a people who choose to idolize fabric! To idolize his land!

Silver One was watching too. “If my own did that, I would have no problems with it.”

“Really?”

“Really. I have programmed their bodies to shut down if they ever did something like that.”

“How cruel.”

“You? Call me cruel?” Silver One’s face bunched up in disgust as if tasting something foul. “You unlovable goat. “You are the same one who sat by and watched some disgusting punk of flesh abuse and give his betrothed AIDS. Now you still have a poverty problem and let’s not get into race issues which should have been deaded long ago. It was only asleep.” Silver One’s eyes rolled.

Beautiful One took his old friend’s words with a pinch of salt. They always got into the same tired arguments when they cross lines like this.

“There was a time I did intervene,” he bowed is head. “No sense in doing that anymore.” Beautiful One was still as wrathful as ever and Silver One witnessed his pulsing fury. He deals with things in due time.

“They are disobedient!” Silver One spat. “They harm each other and then curse you! What of that? You could have eradicated the putrid squirt from the male as soon as it emptied into-”

“If you pay attention, you will see that even the bad works out for their good. Even in dark cruelty, I provide all they need to be strong. Are your people strong, Silver One?”

Silver One smiled. “They are because I made them that way.”

“But will they be able to face unique situations. Situations which makes them hardy?”

“Of course. I have programmed them for strength.”

Beautiful One stroked his majestic white beard. A stark contrast to his honey countenance. Endurance was the word he was looking for. People should be able to endure. Be stretched, pulled, come forth as gold by fire. Isn’t that right?

No. It is right. More than right.

Silver One’s attention went back to the device. Beautiful One knew what he(she) was up to. Clicking away to control another person.

After a moment, Silver One looked up. “For example. As soon as a cry enters my ear, I rush and help. There is no poverty, no murder, no unwanted babies. A perfect utopia.”

“Then what will they have to look forward to when they die? More utopia?”

“Haha. Very funny. It will better than where they are now.”

“Better,” Beautiful One repeated. “How will they know and realize what better is? May be boring.”

Silver One placed hands on their hips. “What would you know? You’re a tyrant. Your people write about how you are love and I hear their cries all over my universe too! They cry and you allow them to be maimed and mowed down and amazingly the same ones still believe in you- but with a different opinion of you.”

“Yes,” Beautiful One agreed with some anger. “They kill one another and have uncalled for prejudices. I made them all different for a purpose. I am an artist, a Designer. Beautiful flowers like the ones on our earths.”

“Big mistake, big guy, but you are a poet” Silver One pat him on the back softly like a comrade. In many ways, he was. “So much difference. So many different psychologies, so many different experiences, produces wicked results. And Moses! He struck a rock in anger and you made him miss out on paradise.”

“He’s in paradise. Not on earth of course.”

“Well of course not on earth. Your earth is a cesspool. Come, let’s go over to my earth and you will see how my people live.”

Beautiful One did not think “live” was a good word. More like programmed.

However, he stood up and joined Silver One as they embarked on visiting Earth Utopia 2.

To be continued…

Copyright 2018 Erica Jean Smith

I hope you liked this one. I’ve been reading some Christian Apologetics books and I have tons of questions about freedom, choices, and divine intervention. Let me know what you think!

~Ericajean

Prayers for an Anxious Heart( a review)

Prayers for An Anxious Heart

Compiled by Barbour Publishing Staff(July 1, 2017)

ISBN: 978-1-68322-171-5

*Book received for free from Netgalley

_________________

These prayer collections(there’s many of them!)published by Barbour, are really hard not to love.

If you are a Christian Woman then this neat little devotional is definitely for you.

Now, if you are not Christian or just need a pick me up to remind you of what’s really important- then the soothing words of this book is for you too.

“Just when I think I might have it all together, something happens to remind me that I am not in control.”(Prayers for an Anxious Heart, 2015)

The everyday stressful moments that seem to stunt our spiritual growth is real but having this powerful book with prayers in it is a great way to begin or end your day.

I think the beautiful factor of these books is that it offers biblical guidance without the need to bash you over the head with rules and structures on how to pray.

For instance, many of the “prayers” offered in the book are inspired by life and Scripture. Well, Scripture is life, but you get the drift.

You can take the prayers and tailor it to your life. Not repeat it word for word. But if you must repeat the prayers exactly, that is your choice too. Hey, it could strengthen your prayer life!

In sum, there is nothing bad to say about a neat book for women who face real troubles.

Five purple hearts!

P.S. I will try to post more reviews of the Spiritual/Christian nature on Sundays or once a month! Please subscribe if you’d like more reviews  and writing tips!

Heaven, or Nah?(A short, fictional romance)

Image from unsplash.com/Designed by Ericajean using Canva

His hands crushed mine, not tenderly, but tender in love and fiercely. The honey brown orbs that were his eyes, pierced mine as he grabbed hold of me, already feeling me slip away.

I never seen my boyfriend cry before. But I am now. It hurts like no other pain.

Everything was growing blurry…two of him, twin tearing men. His white shirt, rumpled with a few paling brown coffee stains splattered on the front, probably from rushing into to see me in my final hour.

“NANINNNNNE! Don’t you dare leave ME!” He growled, his hands no longer felt tight on mine. Was I slipping from this world to the next so soon?

I said something, I think. My lips moved, a tear raced down my cheek as my truly handsome boyfriend stared in terror.

Did not matter how often we prepped for this moment.

All the prayers and all the research of my breast cancer. Late stage, lead us here. I guess, the Final Act cuts deep.

My grip suddenly felt ghost to me. Foreign. My hold loosened on it own as Eric leaned closer to me. My family were all crowded around me, their hands touching my legs, my stomach. Praying. Weeping.

A door slammed in the distance. Another reaction to my dying.

Adin’s warm breath reached my eyelids. My heart began a lub….DUB….lub…..so achingly slow. My lungs couldn’t catch up to any natural rhythm either. The pain meds wore off long ago.

“Nanine.” He slides his hand up the side of my arm. “Don’t. You. Leave. Me. I will chase you across worlds. Remember? I will-” My poor man choked up. I gather strength enough to look into his eyes.

What I saw shocked me.

Shocked me enough to make my heart hit a few beeps.

His eyes, pupils dilated, were deep pools of black. His full lips leaned down over me and my gaze stuck to his as his hot lips landed on mine sensuously in front of everyone.

Only Adin can make me feel this way. Even with my bald head, body nothing but bones from the chemo that ravaged my body, he made me feel sexy. Alive. Always have.

His hot gaze, fierce, determined, supremely angry, swallowed me whole. I believed for a full minute that he literally could chase my soaring soul to wherever.

Our connection have always been so strong.

After the kiss, he only moved an inch from my face and ran his hand down my cheek. “I will find you.”

Suddenly, I couldn’t chase air. My heart’s rhythm, a normal drum in my chest, ceased it’s beat.

I can’t! I can’t breathe! My heart won’t tick!

Oh!

The room, Adin, my family their echoes of pain sounded so far away. I mentally clawed for life. Clawed for it.

Adin’s face of anguish, his honey eyes were the last things I saw before complete darkness overtook me.

*

My lips were kissing something wet and very cool. Smooth.

My eyes were drawn so tight, they felt like lead at this point and I was afraid to open them. My memory slipped from me. Where am I ?

I risked opening my eyes slowly, shocked at the clarity without my glasses. In clear, HD panoramic view, there were lush trees and bushes everywhere, birds chirping.

Some cherry blossoms, floated by me and landed near my face. My face was hovering above clear, beautiful liquid, too amazing to just call water.

My body felt so…clean and lightweight.

Staring at my reflection, I was shocked my skin seemed to glow whereas it was usually pale. It had a hint of gold to it, but the ripples in the water from my movement caused my shimmery glow to vanish.

I finally pushed myself up and on the bank, startling a small squirrel prancing around, chasing its own tail.

The squirrel seemed more orange than brown.

Where am I?

“Nanine Bijou.”

A deeply male, familiar voice made my heart race. I look down at my slightly sun kissed skin and was terrified at how I could see through hands, as though through a veil.

The male approached me.

He was as naked as I am. Shimmering like me. Barely solid, barely ghost.

Oddly familiar too.

His eyes were large, his body designed and perfected in some lab probably and his lips had to be fashioned in supreme love by God himself. I felt nervous, giddy, confused.

He approached me but kept a safe enough distance. “Welcome home, Nanine.”

“Home?”

He reached out to me with his hand. Feeling lost and so utterly confused, even with all the beauty surrounding me, I take his large hand.

“I told you I would chase you from one world to the next.”

Familiar words. Familiar face and lips. Those eyes.

Why did they look so familiar?

Why do I feel…connected to him somehow?

___________________________________

Stay tuned this week for the short conclusion to this love story!

Please comment. Like. Subscribe and share if you like this post!

Thank you!

©2017Ericajean. All Rights Reserved.

 

Come to the Garden Review, Was it all a dream?

Come to the Garden book with blue sky and lavender flowers
Cover Design courtesy of Howard Books

Did Jennifer Wilder Morgan have a powerful dream about an angel? A vision? Or was this something else?

Come to the Garden is marketed as a “Inspired by True Events” novel. However, is it really true and at the end, does it matter?

Here is my opinion of the book:

I really love angel books. I do. And Jennifer Wilder Morgan has penned a lovely, enriching story that’s captivating.

I have done many blog posts on angels: from what angels are made of, to fiction involving angels.

In the Author’s Note, Jennifer states,

Soon, the character of an intriguing angel named Margaret began to shape in the eyes of my heart. I would write a fictional story about her.”(Come to the Garden, pg. xiii)

In the Acknowledgements section, Jennifer even states: “I had a dream and wasn’t going to settle for a personal journal.”

So in essence, what we are reading is an allegory. Which in itself isn’t a bad thing.

Jennifer’s guardian angel explores her dreams. These dreams Jennifer has are about loved ones passing or being ill, and some dreams bring about hope, such hope that even you as the reader will stop and praise God for her vision, and then other dreams are wholly prophetic.

And her gentle, beautiful guide is right there explaining the metaphors and symbols(pay attention to these!)

I felt invited while reading. I felt that even my own dreams and fears were finally explained just by reading this book.

At the final page, I took a breath, read some of the Scriptures offered in the back and reflected on what I’ve read.

Perhaps Jennifer’s own events inspired her to create the angel Margaret. Now, whether this is real or if angels are guardians versus messengers is set for another discussion elsewhere. All I know is that I am now inspired.

*This book was received for free from Howard Books through Jennifer’s publicist.

Book Details:

Come to the Garden, Jennifer Wilder Morgan

Published by Howard Books(2016)

ISBN: 978-1-5011-3133-2(paperback)

*Also available in audio. Want it free? Please visit my Come to the Garden free audible giveaway which ends May 16,2016 so you can share the experience! Also narrated by Kathie Lee Gifford, the Today show host.

“Looking Right Dead At Me”-Fictional Origins

Looking Right Dead At Me!

Gazebo Take 2 by Erik Przekop

I fell asleep one night and never woke up. Anyone can attest to what happens when you are poisoned(anyone who is dead), but I digress. I fell into a deep one and woke up encased in a wooden gazebo with glass all around-no one in or out. I saw people, animals, trees and could smell them!

But I could not touch the living.

A small boy ran up to gazebo wearing a red jumper and had a part down the middle of his dark hair, light in his eyes and rainbows striking his translucent skin. He could have been at least six or seven.

He waves his hand at me.

I wave back.

I’m dead. but is he too? How can his skin be so translucent and pretty?

I looked all round, everyone else looked just like him. There was no distinction of race here: everyone was nearly see through. They jumped and morphed into balls of bubbles, then would bounce off trees and land on the sea.

Bubbles. People were like bubbles.

And the young boy with dark hair stared t me: “Am I really dead?” I asked him. I pantomimed death by grabbing my throat and making hacking sounds and then careened to the ground in an elegant theatrical fashion.

His eyes widened as he smiled, showing rows of white teeth.

He clapped hard. “We are all here!”

Did he say what I thought he said?

Then he said something else, and I saw his body stretch. Arms became longer and his skin complexion changed coloring. He was as brown as new mud and his hair was as long as mine.

Living Dead
Wow Living Dead Girl by Ryumo

“I am right dead as you!”

“Huh?”

“I am right dead as you!” He repeated, pointing at me. More an more he began to look familiar..he resembled-

“A doppelganger? Me?”

I needn’t ask more because he was like me now. Somehow, in this world, people can be who they wish and I just witnessed a boy transforming into…me.

Several years later and many lost memories to boot, I found myself reincarnated. Not in the sense of what the Hindus believe but my mind has been reborn elsewhere and I tried capturing my experience on a piece of scroll paper.

Lost it along the way on my way back to Earth.

And yet I have seen that the new humans’ do have look-a-likes. Called twins.

But I am cautious when I hear a human, that may have stolen my words say, “I’m looking right dead at you!”

Truth be told, you could be dead, looking at a bubble person pretending to be you.

 

*Okay so this is my drafted attempt at explaining where we get the phrase, “I’m looking right dead at you”. The narrator states they wrote their story and it fell into the hands of modern society. I think the reason is far more profound than that, but blessings!