One Mississippi, Two Mississippi.....

Once again the sky lit up with a brilliant flash of blue light, causing the falling droplets of water for a moment to be sharply lit, seeming to pause a moment in their descent. The flash was quickly followed by a resounding rumble of sound that tore through mortar and stone.

There were several people that night that sat out on their porches to watch. They gasped when the sky lit up, and were awed when the rumble followed.

But there is, as with every thunder storm, one person who hid under a blanket in her bedroom, clutching her favorite stuffed bunny close to her chest.

The sky flashed again.

The world rumbled.

The girl whimpered and buried herself further in her bed.

From underneath the blanket, the girl heard her door slowly creak open, and the gentle yet heavy footsteps her father's feet made when he tried to step lightly.

"Sweetheart," the voice the girl's father called softly, "what's the matter, Baby?"

"I don't like thunder storms," came the miserable reply.

The father sat down on the girl's bed, next to a large lump that was the girl under her blanket. "Why don't you come out from under there, I would like to see you."

The top of the lump shook back and forth.

"There is nothing to be afraid of," the father continued, in a slow soothing voice.

"The lightning," the girl said. "There's the lightning to be afraid of."

"Nonsense," the father said, "there is no reason to be afraid of the lightning."

Despite any amount of assurance, and badgering, from her father, the girl stayed loyal to her bed and blanket, refusing to get off the first, and out from under the latter.

Eventually the father stood up and stretched, arching his back with several satisfying pops.

"Guess I'll have to drink all that hot chocolate by myself," the father said remorsefully. "Don't know how I'm going to do it, but guess I'll have to try." He started to go.

"Hot chocolate," the girl said, peeking out from under her blanket.

The father nodded. "Yep, and not the instant cocoa, the real stuff, made from real chocolate."

The girl cast a quick and wary glance around the room. She pulled the blanket off her head and around her shoulders. "I can drink some of that hot chocolate."

"No, that's okay. I don't want to pressure you. I understand that you have more important things to do."

"No, that's okay. Go get me some hot chocolate and bring it in here."

The father smiled. "Sorry no, this hot chocolate is only for the stout of heart, only those who are willing to drink it on the front porch can taste of it."

The girl pouted. "Why?"

"Because the chocolate that makes this hot chocolate is a specials kind of chocolate. It is super tasty, and it is super tasty because it is magic. The magic is this, if eaten outside, it has the most wonderful taste, if eaten inside, it taste like toe jam."

"Daddy!" the girl giggled. "I know you're trying to trick me. Can't I please have some hot chocolate."

"Only if you come outside," the father insisted. "There is something I want to show you."

The father left, leaving the little girl all by herself. She sat on her bed, wondering how long the hot chocolate was going to stay hot, and if she could somehow sneak some, when lightning crashed down, seeming to jump through the girl's window. She quickly hid under her blanket. After several moments, the girl slipped the blanket off her head again. One of the worst parts about a thunder storm was the thunder, but this flash of lightning seemed to not have any thunder. When suddenly it boomed. The girl nearly jumped out of her skin. Holding her blanket with one arm, and her bunny in the crook of her other, she ran through the house.

She jumped into her father's lap, shivering close to his chest.

"So you decided to come," her father said. He put down his book and took off his reading glasses, putting them in a black plastic case. He stood up, swinging his daughter around so she rode him piggy back style.

"So how about some of that magic hot chocolate?" the father asked. He felt the girl's head rub up and down his back in a nod.

The father made some of the afore mentioned hot chocolate, letting his girl add the magical chocolate, and stir it in with the warm milk. Soon it was ready, and the father poured it from the sauce pan into two mugs. One that was plane blue for himself, and a white one with pink and red hearts on it for his daughter.

With the girl riding on her father's back again, they made their way outside. As the father opened the door, the girl buried her face between her father's shoulder blades.

The father set the girl down on the first step, wrapping her tightly in her blanket. He sat down next to her and they sipped their hot chocolate.

The sky lit up with a brilliant flash of blue light, causing the falling droplets of water for a moment to be sharply lit, seeming to pause a moment in their descent. The flash was quickly followed by a resounding rumble of sound that tore through mortar and stone.

The girl shivered and hid under her blanket again. She hugged her bunny so tightly her knuckles turned white. It was even scarier being outside.

Once her heart had settled, the girl noticed her father was saying something, not to her. He was counting.....

".....five Mississippi, six Mississippi, seven Mississippi....." all the way to twelve, until the thunder pounded.

"Twelve Mississippi," the father announced.

The girl peeked from under her blanket. "Why were you counting Missippies, Daddy?"

"Darling," the father said, hugging his daughter close, "did you know that with each Mississippi that I counted meant the lighting was another mile away."

"So," the girl said thinking, "that lightning was twelve miles away?"

The father nodded. "About twelve, yes."

The girl looked up at her father. "It can't hurt me from that far away, can it?"

"Nope," the father said, shaking his head. "That's what I wanted to show you. You count the next one."

The girl did. There were eleven Mississippies between the lightning and the thunder. Then the father counted. He counted ten. The continued this little game. The girl got nine, the father eight, the girl seven, the father six.....

"It's getting closer," the girl said, a quiver in her voice.

The father kissed her on her head. "It's okay. Six miles away is still a long ways away. We'll be all right. Now, let's get back to the game. Let's see who can count the lightning with the fewest Mississippies."

So they continued. The girl got five her next turn, the father four, the girl three, the father two, all the girl managed to get out her next turn was the word "one....." before the thunder rolled onto them.

The girl felt sick. Her last one had been so close. And the way it was an exact count down. It was like the lightning was following them somehow

"Whoa," the father said, clearly impressed. "Looks like you won, I don't see how I can beat that. Guess I can try though."

The girl grew suddenly afraid. "No Daddy, let's stop playing, I don't like this game. The lightning is mad at us."

The father laughed. "Don't be silly. The lightning can't be mad at us. Why would it be mad at us anyway?"

The girl shivered. "It doesn't like that we are trying to show it, it can't hurt us. It thinks everything should be afraid of it."

The father hugged his daughter close. "The lightning doesn't think, Baby," the father said with warmth. "Don't ever let yourself be afraid of things that can't really hurt you. You're going to be okay." The father let his girl go. "Now, let's wait for the next lightning strike. It is my turn next and I want to see if I can beat your impossible record."

The girl didn't blame her father. He was an adult after all, he had forgotten what it was like to listen to the world around him. All adults did. They said everything was science and explained it away with math and experiments. It made the world a less scary place. A place where you could walk around safe. Even most kids had forgotten what it was like to listen to the world.

But the girl hadn't.

She jumped up, dropping her bunny and letting her blanket fall off her shoulders. She ran out into the street, her bare feet slapping against the wet ground and her night gown becoming heavy with the rain. She thought she heard her father calling her name, but she ignored him. In defiance she looked up at the sky, screaming the word "ONE!!!", even before she saw the lightning. She knew if she didn't, her father would insist in breaking her record, and she feared for him if he was to count next. What the lightning would do to him.

The girl felt it coming. Her arms and neck prickled, her breath came in short, it felt like her heart had stopped, the world became a blur.

Once again the sky lit up with a brilliant flash of blue light, and the thunder rolled without even a pause.

Conspiracy Starters

   Jarred hastily dropped the small stack of paper onto the passenger's seat as he slipped in the car. He glanced nervously at the papers before starting the ignition.

   Was he just being hyper paranoid? The majority of conspiracy theories were just that. Theories. One person concludes something different than what is published based on talk and blog post. Jarred should know. Especially with today's world wide internet connection where anyone could rant. One man's mussing could tun into a full blown conspiracy theory.

   Jarred had been so caught up in his mussing that he nearly drove through a red light. His foot slammed on the breaks, jerking him to a stop half way through the intersection.

   Fortunate the car behind Jarred was far enough behind to gave Jarred room to back up.

   Unfortunate it was a cop's car.

   No soon had Jarred finished backing up, than the cop's sirens went off. jarred waited for the light to turn green before pulling over. His back was rigidly pressed into the car seat and his fingers thrummed on the wheel as the cop's face leered in the window.

   Jarred ended up being less than nice to the cop, so his ticket was about a hundred dollars more than it would have been other wise.

   As the cop walked away, Jarred slammed his forehead into the steering wheel. Today was not going very well for him. He roughly pushed his glasses back up his nose and started the car again.

   Finally,Jarred pulled up at John Smith's house. The unspoken leader of the conspiracy starters.

   Jarred stiffly walked up the steps and knocked.

   "Come in," John yelled.

   Jarred let himself inn and found John on the computer.

   "John," Jarred said.

   "Yes," John said, still looking at the computer screen.

   Jarred placed his papers on Jon's desk. "Look at those. Now. It's important."

   John finally turned away from the computer screen, casting a glance at Jarred through the corner of his eye. He picked up the papers and started to read from a thread from a forum about conspiracies.

                        JudgeAwsome: Hey, junoe, did you know mos of those theories
                        where stared by the same source?

                        junoe: I didn't believe you at first, but looking it up, you are right.
                        Funny though, almost was like they were trying to hide it.
  
                        JuneCat: Don't know. Some of those theories were bog ones.
                        Made up by a certain person.
      
                        JudgeAwsome: Yea, but if you look a little deeper you'll find links
                        to blogs and threads that helped them start them.

                        JuneCat: Freaky. mmmmmmm...yet another conspiracy.....

At first John's face was confused, one eyebrow cocked above the other. Then his face was amused, fallowed by a burst of laughter.

   "Are you honestly worried about this?" John asked.

   Jarred pressed his lips into a hard line, not liking his concerns being laughed at. "It's clear these people have found out about us."

   "So?"

   "Well, one would think we are breaking some law somewhere."

   "There is absolutely nothing wrong with a group of collage buddies planting seeds to start conspiracies. We don't even really do anything. Just leave a hint here and there. The general population is the one who blows it hugely out of proportion. It's kind of a weird pass time I know, but so is spending all day locked up in a dark room playing a board game about dragons and elves."

   Jarred rolled his eyes and leaned against the desk. "For your information, I played Dungeons and Dragons seriously for only about five months."

   John snorted. "Oh only. Do you have to be so paranoid?"

   "Yes," Jarred snapped back. "That what makes me so good at making up conspiracies. It's a talent really. you have a certain situation, where everything fits but one little fact. And because I'm paranoid, I can take that one little fact, and make it a whole augment based on it."   He sighed picking up the papers. "Do you think we should even try to squash it out? Or should we leave well enough alone?"

   John shook his head, a smile on his lips. "What would be the fun in letting will enough alone? But I don't think you should squash it . I though you should us your paranoia."

   Jarred blinked. "Blow it ridiculously out of proportion?" He thought about it a moment. "Yes, that would be sick. The conspiracy starters are actually a circle of rich powerful politicians who control America by carefully selecting wide spread conspiracies. Or it could be an underground gang thing."

   "Or," John said arching his eyebrows, "a bunch of regular Joe's, some thinking it's just for kicks, while the others use it to control society."

   Jarred winced. "That is a little too close to the truth."

   John shrugged. "Just thought I'd throw it out there. What would be cool is if you could circulate all three at once."

   Jarred nodded. "Actually, that would be cool. Think I'll do that." He shook his head and laughed as he left. "Funny to think people actually buy this stuff. Honestly? A group of people who control the system by starting conspiracies? What a laugh," he said over his should to John.

   John let a sly smile creep over his face as Jarred shut the door. 'If only you knew.'

Reflections of the Moment

Why must every blessing,

Also bring a curse?

Why when things get better,

Must they also become wores?

No good did tears ever do.

Not for me, nor for you.

They never did any good at all.

All they ever did was fall.

Falling, falling, like the rain.

Falling, falling, without gain.

Now the ran is falling, falling.

So the pain is falling, falling.

For when tears do come,

Heavy like sleet,

The burning tears help melt the pain,

And help you to your feet.

For everything that ends with pain,

Further off it finds a gain.

Keep on holding oh, so, tight.

All dark things end up in light.

~~~~~~~Earthly Gods~~~~~~

Part two of two

God: Rescue the rights of the needy
         deliver them from the hands of the
                   wicked.

Queen: Why would I want to do a thing like that for? It is far too much work.

God: I appreciate your honesty.

Queen: Why thank you.

God: But that doesn't make you any better than the others.

Queen. Well I don't really care. My own opinion is the only one that matters, and as long as everyone caters to my every whim, I stay happy and I don't punish them. As fro their "rights" and junk like that, I couldn't care less.

God: Aren't you worried about your subjects not liking you?

Queen: Heavens no! They all fear me, they don't dare do a thing against me. Besides, they're use to it.

God: Use to it?

Queen: Yes, in the same way I am so use to such a find life. If I suddenly had to live in poverty, I wouldn't last a day. Likewise if the "needy" suddenly lived my life, they wouldn't be able to cope with it.

God: The needy don't need to live your life for you to help them.

Queen: The "needy" and I are two completely different species. We shouldn't mix. Besides, living in poverty is good for peasants. Gives them a better mentality. If I gave them even a bit more than they already had, they would become discontent and unmanageable.

God: Aren't you discontent then?

Queen: Of course not dreary, as long as I have everything I want.

God: And do you usually have everything you want?

Queen: Well no, but I would if my subjects would stop whining and get me what I want

God: Stop whining? Your subjects are whining because they are oppressed by tax collectors, abusive masters, and unjust judges.

Queen: I know. They should simply realize that that's how life is for them. I do wish they would shut up.

God: You are literally sending your subjects into the hand of the wicked. That is the opposite of what you're supposed to do.

Queen: So?

God: You are just as wicked as those people.

Queen: Not at all. I am simply delicate and have weak nerves.

God: Your delicacy and nerves don't seem to bother you while you behead anyone who mildly annoys you.

Queen: yes, fortunate that.

God: Mmm. I wonder how well they will hold up at your own beheading.

Queen: Now wait a moment. What is that suppose to mean?

God:.....

Queen: Don't be rude. Answer me.

God:.....

Queen: Please?

God: The know nothing, they understand
nothing.
       They walk about in darkness;
          all the foundation of the earth
                    are shaken.

Queen: How is that for an answer?

God: It was directed at you!

Judge: It was for me. And no wonder. Your nonsensical prattle would cause anyone to want to get away from you.

God: I'm glad you recognized your ill judgment so quickly.

Judge: What? I thought that you meant how in the dark everybody here was about your ways, and confining in me because I am not.

God: No.

Judge: Then I cannot possibly see how that applies to me.

God: You keep the truth to yourself. You keep the truth about life and the law, but most impotent me, from the people you judge.

Judge: I always have my reasons. I would never keep something from anyone unless I thought it for the best.

God: What if I don't think it is for the best?

Judge: Good thing that will never happen.

God: My, aren't we confident.

Judge: Yes we are. I knew you would trust my discernment.

God: I was being sarcastic.

Judge: Sarcasm is extremely vulgar.

God: Thank you. I was aware of that.

Judge: You're welcome.

God: So saying, what if we disagreed?

Judge: You placed me where I am, by your discernment. There is obviously no one else you'd have there before me.

God: What if those you judge don't agree with you.

Judge: They are all fools and idiots. Otherwise they wouldn't need a judge.

God: Are you calling my chosen children fools and idiots?

Judge? Well, er, certainly not all of them. Only the ones who need my help. Besides, them being that way helps with my job. They listen to what I have to tell them better.

God: I would have thought that fools would listen to your discernment even worse than others.

Judge: Oh, no. The fools are the least likely to listen to my discernment, but they are more easily convinced what I discern is in their favor.

God: You lie to them.

Judge. No, I simply keep certain truths from them.

God: About the situation...and about my law.

Judge: Such is the cost of keeping them all in line.

God: Did it ever occur to you that if you tell them all there was to know that they might be able to judge themselves better?

Judges: They would misuse the information.

God: Anymore than they misuse it by not knowing it?

Judge: They couldn't understand it anyway. They are not wise enough.

God: One must be taught wisdom, in order to be wise. you honestly cannot expect them all to understand my law if it has never been told the them.

Judge: I...that is not how it is.

God: Whoever loves discipline loves knowledge,
          but he who hates correction is stupid.

Judge: What could you possibly mean by that?

God: Oh, nothing. I was simply quoting one of my scriptures.
           I said, "You are 'gods';
              you are all sons of the most high."
           But you will die like mere men;
           You will fall like every other ruler.

Pastor: I agree. Every earthly god is distend to fail sooner or later.

God: You...agree with me? That's new.

Pastor: I know. Everyone has fallen. The only way to be redeemed is by accepting Christ. Even "gods."

God: Exactly! Being someone greater in human terms, such as a judge or ruler, doesn't mean they are greater in my teams. They are still fallen, and I long to rise them all back up.

Pastor: I know, so sad, but true. They have been so glorified in human offices, they honestly thing they are better than the average person. ne must not look at their physical greatness, but at their heart.

God: Which is how I judge man.....

Pastor: Which is why I'm the only righteous one here!

God: Um, excuse me.

Pastor: I have accepted Christ, and now the Holy Spirit lives in me.

God: True.....

Pastor: Every day I see the dozens of people's lives' I have changed.

God: That I have changed working through you.....

Pastor: Of course. I am just a humble vessel. I know that fact my church having over a thousand regular attendants is your work, not mine.

God: Your church is just a building. I always thing of church in the old fashioned way. Every believer is a part of one collective church. Also, when it comes to people's souls, quality is often preferred over quantity.

Pastor: My church has both.

God: Yes I.....

Pastor: Obviously I am doing something right. You don't attract so many people on false dreams.

God: I understand, I agree, (to a point,) but a "god" can be anyone who has much persuasion over the general population. That includes pastors.

Pastor: Which is why I am here. Though i am probably the only one here who is truly hole.

God: See, this is where we are running into our misunderstanding. You keep acting like it was something you did for you to become holey.

Pastor: I accepted Jesus.

God: Yes, but that still really wasn't something you did. It was more like you allowed me to do something to you. You, at the moment, are no better than those who surround you.

Pastor: But my sins have been forgiven! My soul has been washed clean!

God: You've been forgiven by me, and cleansed by the blood of my son. The destiny of every man is to fall. It is I who has raised you up once again.

Pastor: I have been saved since I was a child. I have never truly "fallen."

God: You fall every time you sin, even the smallest bit. Even though you are a godly man, you are still just a man.

Rise up, Oh God, judge the earth,

for all the nation are your

inheritance