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?


*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?”


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


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. 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!


Every Writer’s Fear…Or Maybe Just Mine

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I stick to safe topics. Often and darn near always.

In my mind I have these awesome stories to tell but then I stray away from them because I worry if some imaginary person will think it is too futuristic or too backwards, too religious or too sleazy. So some stories have slowly disappeared from my mind and I have not revisited them.

Have you ever gone though this as a writer?

For instance, today, I am excited because I am working on my third volume of poetry which is going to be a little different from my first two books but the love story I want to tell for my fiction…I don’t know. Are people ready for the genre blend? Has the dead horse been beaten already or should we take a closer look from a different angle?

I admire books by Philip K. Dick(Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?), Stephenie Meyer(The Host), Stephen King(All his work), and Dean Koontz(The Silent Corner)- they break genres and categories and maybe at some point thought about the audience and just said, to heck with it- WRITE!

But how much should audience matter? I love the fans of my work!

I guess it boils down to not being afraid. It’s a psychological drug candy, ain’t it? You shouldn’t be afraid of becoming a better you or writing a book that could be potentially amazing. But we are. We are all afraid, because I think deep down, along with greatness we may forget our humble, child-like selves. We know with more money more problems. We know with more fame, more potential shame.

As I write this, I take a deep breath and realize I am not alone. How do I choose what to write and promote?

My heart and mind must be one. My heart says go along with the traditional, you love this stuff! My mind says, bend it, break it all and see what happens. Watch what you have sown and it shall reap.


Anyway, I hope you all have a great day and don’t forget to share your thoughts below! I’d love to hear them!


Glancing Back, Looking Forward

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Glancing back, I’ll say I’ve had an amazing February!

Not only did I visit great blogs, but was able to get my hands on books about black culture, ancient civilization and editing. It was a very productive month and I thank all the bloggers who read my work and who also featured amazing blog posts throughout the month.

A special thank you to friends and bloggers, Nortina from Lovelycurses and Marquessa Matthews for her blog posts    for creating communities of for creative writers and bloggers.

I know there are more bloggers out there and if you’d like me to visit your blog just comment below with the link! Simple as that, I’d love to hear from you.

Next, I did not get to finish the book The Between in time for February and I am still reading it. It is by one of my absolute fav authors, Tananarive Due and is about a man who could be living a dream, or dreaming while living. Very Twilight Zone-ish and Tales From the Crypt type vibe. You would love it! I will let you know soon if the book was good, but I will tell you now- it is not boring at all!

Finally, I have been silent a while because I jumped back into Fanfiction writing. That’s my nerdy/Otaku moment that is kind of addicting. I would tell you the stories I write on there but they are full of lemons and other unadulterated mess…SMH! I amazingly get plenty of reviews and clicks. It can be a challenging community but an exciting one too!

Hope you all had a blessed month and continue to have a very blessed year.

~The Write Web

Without Shadows We Are But Ghosts, #BlaPoWriMo, #Slavery

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Photo Credit: Pedro Figueras


A shadow is a dark area produced by a body coming between rays of light. Without the sun, we would not have shadows.

Without the shadows we are but ghosts

In bodies

Carrying the implanted pain of

Abel and the soiled happiness

Of forced religion-

Without the shadows we are but ghosts

In bodies

Carrying the blood of the dark, lynched angels

Forced from a land

To a land of aliens

Where weapons fire rapidly into the backs

Of skin, of babes, of moms, of dads…

Where the cat o’ nine tails

swish into the

Toned plump back of a “pagan”

Whipping the passion of Christ into

This Foreigner

Without the shadows we are ghosts

In bodies of burnt clay and high hair, wooly

As sheeps, puffed as clouds

Such strange beauty!

Scarred for life, the umbilical cord

Still hasn’t been cut

As we float and wallow

In shame and perpetual confusion:

How are we here? Why are we here?


Tough love passed down the placenta

And into the mitochondria of

New Mothers

Producing strong, built babes

Feeding from massa’s god

Without the shadows we are but ghosts

In bodies

Loaned to us from our Ancestors

~©Copyright Erica Jean Smith

*Check out more on BlaPoWriMo this month via Nortina’s blog!


Black Poetry Writing Month: Traveling through Time… Slavery

One of my blog buddies here, Nortina, has created BlaPoWriMo. Get those pens ready because we are traveling through time of Black History 🙂 I am excited!

Lovely Curses

February is finally here! Did anyone else think January was way too long?

…And too cold; it was definitely too cold!

If February is your month to reset your New Year’s goals (particularly your writing goals), here’s a suggestion for you…

Why not join a new writing challenge?

That’s right. Black Poetry Writing Month (BlaPoWriMo) has returned for a third year, and this time I hope to see lots more participation. 😉

For the uninitiated, BlaPoWriMo is a month-long writing challenge that combines the ambition of National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo) with the history, education, and self-reflection of Black History Month.

Over these three years, I’ve explored various themes for the challenge. During its inaugural run in 2016, I gave you daily prompts based on poems from some of my favorite black poets, and last year, we spent a fortnight writing black love poems.

This year, I want to take you on a…

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Week 4 #HaikuChallenge2018 Get Inspired By the Books You Read

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Image Credit: Negative Space


If you are a bookworm like me, then this next challenge should be fun.

Sometimes we come across a word, a phrase, or a complete sentence in a book that knocks our socks off!

For this #HaikuChallenge2018, use the word, phrase, or sentence in a haiku. Feel free to use titles, blurbs, summaries, etc.

Or simply be inspired by what you’ve read.

Below are some amazing phrases pulled from books and quotes.


“Some words live in my throat, breeding like adders.”-Audre Lorde

“..a real narrator wouldn’t remember exactly what people said.”(The Language of Fiction, Brian Shawver, pg. 24, 2013)

“Roots like an oak tree.”(The Silent Corner, Dean Koontz, p.185, 2017)

“…in this dangerous time when shadows cast shadows of their own.”(The Silent Corner, p.56)

Below are my “bookish” inspired haiku!


And if they be snakes

let their forked tongues leave me

with an empty heart


we are all narrators

social media warriors,

the web never forgets


Leaves begin to fall,

yet you cling fast to me

holding strong like roots


Pale sun and bright stars,

still, we cast shadows among

the shadows of mortals

As you can see, I have broken some “rules” of haiku.

  • I did not make many seasonal references, aside from mentioning nature.
  • Many of my haiku are more/less than 17 syllables.

But I still had fun and the spirit of haiku is still there.

So go on, try to find some words and phrases to inspire you or use in your haiku! Feel free to share them here, or create them on your blog and link back to this post 🙂

~The Write Web