Short story City
March 9 2024
The next day.
The unopened jar of cherries in the fridge would come in handy. She squeezed the lid and the jar popped open. She had cut the strawberries, grapefruit, bananas, and added blueberries, red and green grapes, blackberries and honey. The sprinkle of cherries on top would be a nice touch.
It was in thinking about the details, that she was able to distract herself from the glaring facts staring her in the face that would necessitate her attention. Facts that she noticed, responded to her information from the day before about people leaving the cities. But there was time to get to that later in the day. Right now she was doing what was in front of her in order to be of service.
The diplomatic guests had to know that they were important to her, and that she wanted to provide for them, the the best she could. The plates, from Mexico, beautifully handmade were decorative and had a mixture of red, blue, yellow pink and green, The dishes were accented by pressed yellow cloth napkins and shiny silverware and the glasses, were pretty stemware of a deep red, picking up one of the colors in the plates. The candles were lit and glowed on the table of copper streaked with blue copper oxide. The fare of flour tortillas filled with eggs, beef brisket, cheese and sissy sauce, were bound to satisfy.
The handmade tacos sat warm on the counter wrapped in foil. But no one had arrived. She looked outside and saw the gift that had been anonymously given to her, a few days earlier. She had time to tend to it, and make sure it was properly stored.
The Gift matched a gift she had also given to another, once upon a time. Both gifts were cruisers, both had wide white-walled tires and both were vintage. So when she looked for a “sign” or message, she recognized that the gift itself was a mirror from the past.
The gift had not been given to her but had been left where she would find it, and where she would be sure to respond with delight. Though it was in need of some repair…and she spent the hour she had waiting, working on it it was indeed delightful.
Quite a bit of planning had to have gone into the timing that would have been required to leave a gift for a specific person, and leave it where anyone else could have found it but did not. It was a perfect color. It matched the anonymous ring she had found several years earlier in the park on a remote path that she rode her bike on. And she still loved wearing the ring.
It was a bright spot in the morning to see, as she worked on the gift, how it immediately responded to the Clorox cleaning pads and steel wool pads, and gleamed. It was not something huge, nor was it something she needed, but it would be kept and would be something she enjoyed. Such was the world of diplomacy, and though diplomatic relations were difficult in this way, they did show goodwill.
She had joined the “5 AM club” which was a book about having a really early start to her day. And she had run into the new team person who seemed happy to see her and who made sure to tell her that “people were looking out for her”. She was glad to hear it even though she did not know who they were.
But back to the gift…was it a gift for a gift. Was she underestimating the value of friendship, the value of honesty, the value of integrity in others? Was her gift something that she “understood” in the real sense of the word.
Her guests made their appearance and the conversation though deep and varied, was mentally stimulating and helpful. There were many things in common to be shared and networking happened easily and organically. Once the tacos and fruit and coffees were consumed and the table cleared, she was able to think about the big boss who was very clear about yesterdays message as it was reiterated today.
Three days ago..the big boss had instructed her to say what she knew “to the flock” as the bellwether…to prophesy.
Two days ago she had been told that the big boss had shown which was the way of life and which was the way of death…and continued, saying that those who lived in the city would die by the sword, and by famine and disease.
And with that, was the sign given simultaneously, that the sword was being wielded by the leadership of her country…who was not holding the sword to defend the people but to destroy them.
Then there was the message today…
And there was no mistaking what was being said. There were those who would listen, and those who would not…and though the words seemed dark, she was instructed to give the warning to anyone who would hear what the big boss had to say.
“‘Doom to the city of murder,
to the pot thick with scum,
thick with a filth that can’t be scoured.
Empty the pot piece by piece;
don’t bother who gets what.
‘The blood from murders
has stained the whole city;
Blood runs bold on the street stones,
with no one bothering to wash it off —
Blood out in the open to public view
to provoke my wrath,
to trigger my vengeance.
‘Therefore, this is what the big boss, says:
“‘Doom to the city of murder!
She thought about which cities were still doing abortions. Doing them ruthlessly. She thought about how women who claimed that the right to murder, said it was because they had power and ownership over their own bodies, and over the bodies of babies inside, even though the babies had their own unique DNA separate from the mother. The Romans had also said that they had power, over the bodies of women by either fatherhood or marriage, as well as having power over the bodies of slaves. They had the power of life and death over these and at least a quarter of the roman population was enslaved. But did that make it right? DON’T THINK SO BUCKWHEAT.
Asserting power over the body of another, genetically unique individual was the technique or argument used by the Romans as an excuse for subjugating others…. and um yeah, ROME FELL.
It was no different from the way that women today were asserting their power over the bodies of defenseless infant to justify ruthless murder…those who are woke, will also fall. Indeed in the streets of the city, blood runs bold on the street stones…not just in China but in many cities all over the world.
City leaders who claim to be progressive, claim to care about the fate of mankind but she noticed, only when the way they “cared” allowed them to have power over others. The blood of the cities, was also blood money she thought. The cities, being forced to house others who were not legal, was politically motivated. Taxation without representation.
Waking up in the middle of the night she had a thought, which was, in the face of this warning, to make sure to follow the big boss more closely. She recognized that the only thing hampering mankind as a whole, was any wrong belief that they accepted. If evil could do a really good job as a “marketing agent”, and what it has to sell was actually destructive, HOW was mankind to protect itself. By doing what Jesus did. As closely as possible…. and also leave “the cities”.
City Acronym CAN I TRUST YOU.
She went back to bed and woke a few hours later to do her morning workout. With the air coated in pollen from the springlike early bloom, Her path was accented by pools of water in gutters, swirling with the bright yellow dust. That dust formed such beautiful patterns that she had to capture the image in photographs. But that same dust, was instead the reason for a belief in allergies. Could the belief of the power of the yellow dust, cause the symptoms. And if so, did the removal of those beliefs give relief, without necessarily removing the pollen.
Looking at the life of Jesus made her aware that he did not change anything about the body of those he healed, rather he changed their belief. If they originally believed that man was limited and broken, his “prayer” changed their understanding to one of the unlimited power of his father. The new beliefs, where each suffering individual was asked to give mental permission to the possibility of unlimited good, were the very beliefs that simultaneously contradicted what their eyes and ears told them, and accepting the “impossible, healed them instantly.
So she took the pollen as an opportunity to see only beauty in the pollen, and to learn about the power of good. Not just to learn that pollen has no power, but to learn that good is the only real power.
If city is an acronym for “can I trust you”, then perhaps to leave that city, was not just about a physical action but was also about a new mental view. Perhaps the warning was to tell the world that God was asking listeners not only to remove themselves physically from the company of evil, but to turn away from wanting to trust human beings, and turn to “Can I trust the Big Boss”. Those who could leave the one, and move to the other, were giving mentally, their permission to believe in a higher power, and would, in fact see the fruition of that which they believed.
She thought of the story of the shoemaker and his elves. The shoemaker was poor and needed help and humanly it seemed impossible to do all the work. But when he was asleep, some force came in the night and did all his work for him, fixing all the shoes.
The force was these little elves. These tiny little men who were also cobblers, who sang and worked all night long. Her dad had loved the elves, and had called them the little people.
But the little people to most grownups who did not have very good imaginations, were just plain silly kids stories. OF COURSE a “smart” person should not believe in, or trust in the little people, who could not possibly be real.
But her dad believed. He would do things secretly at home and at his office, to help others believe as well, leaving gifts and notes, from “the little people” that would help them out. She loved that about her dad.
And with regards to the shoemaker, because the elves were helping him, he started making enough money to buy all the things he and his humble wife needed. One the shoemaker crept out to see who was helping him all this time, and saw the little people and they were working without pants. They had on only boxer briefs.
And so in gratitude, he made them clothes…teeny tiny clothes. Then he laid the clothes out that night before he went to bed, beside the shoes that needed fixing, so the elves would see them.
When the elves saw the tiny clothes they put them on and saw that the clothes fit them exactly, so they danced and sang and went on their way, and never came back. Happily by that time, the shoemaker had all he needed and was successful. By giving a gift to one who seemed to be unreal, the shoemaker had to believe not only that the elves existed, but that it was important to show gratitude.
She realized that believing in God, for many, was as difficult as it might have been for the shoemaker to believe in tiny cobblers that fixed shoes in the middle of the night. But because he believed, the elves did not have to flee away pant-less, which maybe they would have had to do if the one they were trying to help, had NOT believed in them.
They were covered, literally, and they acted as his insurance policy. The insurance for them (a different way to view insurance), was the shoemakers confident belief in them. Whether or not he had believed though, they did in fact exist independently of his belief.
Apparently, those who have lots of money, who easily can pay to have things done for them, do not feel the need to rely on “ little people” very much. It is probably a lot harder for someone who is rich, to believe in “the little people” or elves, just like Jesus knew it was hard for rich people in the day, to believe in his father in heaven.
Rich people have too much belief in their own power. By believing, they had to forego belief in the supremacy of their own power and give mental consent to the power of God, which also involved not being self serving. Those with little human power, or money apparently believed more easily, and therefore benefited greatly.
Throughout the bible, it is the slaves, and the oppressed, and the sick who are able to most easily “believe” and it is they who get healed, saved or delivered out of the jaws of evil.
She wrote her orders…
March 9 2024
The next day.
The unopened jar of cherries in the fridge would come in handy. She squeezed the lid and the jar popped open. She had cut the strawberries, grapefruit, bananas, and added blueberries, red and green grapes, blackberries and honey. The sprinkle of cherries on top would be a nice touch.
It was in thinking about the details, that she was able to distract herself from the glaring facts staring her in the face that would necessitate her attention. Facts that she noticed, responded to her information from the day before about people leaving the cities. But there was time to get to that later in the day. Right now she was doing what was in front of her in order to be of service.
The diplomatic guests had to know that they were important to her, and that she wanted to provide for them, the the best she could. The plates, from Mexico, beautifully handmade were decorative and had a mixture of red, blue, yellow pink and green, The dishes were accented by pressed yellow cloth napkins and shiny silverware and the glasses, were pretty stemware of a deep red, picking up one of the colors in the plates. The candles were lit and glowed on the table of copper streaked with blue copper oxide. The fare of flour tortillas filled with eggs, beef brisket, cheese and sissy sauce, were bound to satisfy.
The handmade tacos sat warm on the counter wrapped in foil. But no one had arrived. She looked outside and saw the gift that had been anonymously given to her, a few days earlier. She had time to tend to it, and make sure it was properly stored.
The Gift matched a gift she had also given to another, once upon a time. Both gifts were cruisers, both had wide whitewalled tires and both were vintage. So when she looked for a “sign” or message, she recognized that the gift itself was a mirror from the past.
The gift had not been given to her but had been left where she would find it, and where she would be sure to respond with delight. Though it was in need of some repair…and she spent the hour she had waiting, working on it it was indeed delightful.
Quite a bit of planning had to have gone into the timing that would have been required to leave a gift for a specific person, and leave it where anyone else could have found it but did not. It was a perfect color. It matched the anonymous ring she had found several years earlier in the park on a remote path that she rode her bike on. And she still loved wearing the ring.
It was a bright spot in the morning to see, as she worked on the gift, how it immediately responded to the clorox cleaning pads and steel wool pads, and gleamed. It was not something huge, nor was it something she needed, but it would be kept and would be something she enjoyed. Such was the world of diplomacy, and though diplomatic relations were difficult in this way, they did show goodwill.
She had joined the “5 AM club” which was a book about having a really early start to her day. And she had run into the new team person who seemd happy to see her and who made sure to tell her that “people were looking out for her”. She was glad to hear it even though she did not know who they were.
But back to the gift…was it a gift for a gift. Was she underestimating the value of friendship, the value of honesty, the value of integrity in others? Was her gift something that she “understood” in the real sense of the word.
Her guests made their appearance and the conversation though deep and varied, was mentally stimulating and helpful. There were many things in common to be shared and networking happened easily and organically. Once the tacos and fruit and coffees were consumed and the table cleared, she was able to think about the big boss who was very clear about yesterdays message as it was reiterated today.
Three days ago..the big boss had instructed her to say what she knew “to the flock” as the bellwether…to prophesy.
Two days ago she had been told that the big boss had shown which was the way of life and which was the way of death…and continued, saying that those who lived in the city would die by the sword, and by famine and disease.
And with that, was the sign given simultaneously, that the sword was being weilded by the leadership of her country…who was not holding the sword to defend the people but to destroy them.
Then there was the message today…
And there was no mistaking what was being said. There were those who would listen, and those who would not…and though the words seemed dark, she was instructed to give the warning to anyone who would hear what the big boss had to say.
“‘Doom to the city of murder,
to the pot thick with scum,
thick with a filth that can’t be scoured.
Empty the pot piece by piece;
don’t bother who gets what.
‘The blood from murders
has stained the whole city;
Blood runs bold on the street stones,
with no one bothering to wash it off —
Blood out in the open to public view
to provoke my wrath,
to trigger my vengeance.
‘Therefore, this is what the big boss, says:
“‘Doom to the city of murder!
She thought about which cities were still doing abortions. Doing them ruthlessly. She thought about how women who claimed that the right to murder, said it was because they had power and ownership over their own bodies, and over the bodies of babies inside, even though the babies had their own unique DNA separate from the mother. The romans had also said that they had power, over women by either fatherhood or marriage, as well as having power over slaves. They had the power of life and death over these and at least a quarter of the roman population was enslaved. But did that make it right? DON’T THINK SO BUCKWHEAT.
Asserting power over the body of another, genetically unique individual was the technique or argument used by the Romans as an excuse for subjugating others. It was no different from the way that women today were asserting their power over the bodies of defenseless infant to justfiy ruthless murder. Indeed in the streets of the city, blood runs bold on the street stones…not just in China but in many cities in the world.
Cities that claim to be progressive, that claim to care about the fate of mankind but only when the way they “care” allows them to have power over others. The blood of the cities, was also blood money she thought. the cities, being forced to house others who were not legal, was politically motivated. Taxation without representation.
Waking up in the middle of the night she had a thought, which was, in the face of this warning, to follow the big boss more closely. She recognized that the only thing hampering mankind as a whole, was the wrong beliefs that they accepted. If evil was ablt to do a really good job as a “marketing agent”, and what it has to sell was actually destructive, HOW was mankind protect itself. By doing what Jesus did. As closely as possible….leave “the cities”.
City Acronym CAN I TRUST YOU.
She went back to bed and woke a few hours later to do her morning workout. With the air coated in pollen from the springlike early bloom, Her path was accented by pools of water in gutters, swirling with the bright yellow dust. That dust formed such beautiful patterns that she had to capture the image in photographs. But that same dust, was instead the reason for a belief in alergies. Could the belief of the power of the yellow dust, cause the symptoms. And if so, did the removeal of those beliefs give relief, without necessarily removing the pollen.
Looking at the life of Jesus made her aware that he did not change anything about the body of those he healed, rather he changed their belief. If they originally believed that man was limited and broken, his “prayer” changed their understanding to one of the unlimited power of his father. The new beliefs, where each suffering individual was asked to give mental permission to the possibility of unlimited good, were the very beliefs that sumultaneously contradicted what their eyes and ears told them, and accepting the “impossible, healed them instantly.
So she took the pollen as an opportunity to see only beauty in the pollen, and to learn about the power of good. Not just to learn that pollen has no power, but to learn that good is the only real power.
If city is an acronym for “can I trust you”, then perhaps to leave that city, was not just about a physicality. Perhaps the warning was to tell the world that God is asking us to turn away from wanting to trust human being, and turn to “Can I trust the Big Boss”. Those who leave the one, and move to the other, giving mentally their permission to believe, will in fact see the fruition of that which they believe.
She thought of the story of the shoemaker and his elves. The shoemaker was poor and needed help and humanly it seemed impossible to do all the work. But when he was asleep, some force came in the night and did all his work for him, fixing all the shoes.
The force was these little elves. These tiny little men who were also cobblers, who sang and worked all night long. Her dad had loved the elves, and had called them the little people. But the little people to most grownups who did not have very good imaginations, were just plain silly kids stories. OF COURSE a person should not trust in the little people who could not be real. But her dad believed. He would do things secretly at home and at his office, to help others believe as well, leaving gifts and notes, from “the little people” that would help them out. She loved that about her dad.
And with regards to the shoemaker, because the elves were helping him, he started making enough money to buy all the things he and his humble wife needed. One night he crept out to see who was helping him all this time, and saw the little people and they were working without pants. They had on only boxer briefs. And so in gratitude, he made them clothes…teeny tiny clothes. Then he laid the clothes out that night before he went to bed, beside the shoes that needed fixing, so the elves would see them.
When the elves saw the tiny clothes they put them on and saw that the clothes fit them exactly, so they danced and sang happily and went on their way, and never came back. Happily by that time, the shoemaker had all he needed and was successful. By giving a gift to one who seemed impossible to exist, the shoemaker had to believe not only that the elves existed, but that it was important to show gratitude.
She realized that believing in God, for many, was as difficult as it might have been for the shoemaker to believe in tiny cobblers that fixed shoes in the middle of the night. But because he believed, the elves did not have to flee away pantless, which maybe they would have had to do if the one they were trying to help, had NOT believed in them. They were covered, literally, and they acted as his insurance policy. The insurance for them (a different way to view insurance), was the shoemakers confident belief in them. Whether or not he believed, they did in fact exist.
Apparently, those who have lots of money, who easily can pay to have things done for them, do not feel the need to rely on “ little people” very much. It is probably a lot harder for someone who is rich, to believe in “the little people” or elves, just like Jesus knew it was hard for rich people in the day, to believe in his father in heaven.
Rich people have too much belief in their own power. By believing, they are giving consent to the power of God, which involves giving up being self serving. Those with little human power, or money apparently can believe more easily, and therefor benefit more greatly. Throughout the bible, it is the slaves, and the oppressed, and the sick who are able to most easily “believe” and it is they who get healed, saved or delivered out of the jaws of evil.
She wrote her orders…
The cities must stop providing abortions, and stop increasing taxes, which in fact must now be reduced, and those who are not legal residents must not only leave the cities but must return to their own land. Those who are residents of the city, who want to be saved, must leave…and until they do so, they must display the cross on the front of their home as a sign that they are listening and want to follow his leadership. The one who wields the sword, must turn himself in because he and his army have been compromised.”
This was how she interpreted the brief from the big boss.