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The Cheat-Clover and Atlas

Anxiety

Feature Photo by Hannah Myers

“Atee, it’s Clover. You got a minute?”

 “Sounds serious, everything okay?”

 “Atee, we need to meet.” The sea breeze forced its way into the telephone booth and beach sand stung her legs.

“I’m fine, but we need to talk.” “Something wrong Clover?” “Nothing’s wrong. Look Atee if I called asking to be laid, would we have this inquiry session? No, we wouldn’t. So, message me a time and place.”

Click! Clover hung up. The phone rang, answered only by the howling wind tossing plastic bags into the air, and discarded coffee cups rolling along the sidewalk. What the hell has got into that woman, Atlas asked himself, shutting his return call down.

The bottle of bourbon stood flanked by two glasses and an ice bucket. Atlas sat in the moth-eaten easy chair; ice crackled as bourbon washed over into the glass. With two criminal cases back-to-back this week, he didn’t need this. What’s gotten into her, so seriously agitated? The purposeful knock at the door barged into his thoughts. Clover stood, her eyes glaring at him. Stepping into the room, she went to the side table and poured herself a double shot, swallowing it in one gulp.

Her behavior stunned Atlas and shaking he topped their glasses. The two sat. “You must have had a really hard time finding this shithole Atee, you’ve never done this before. Open the blinds it’s dingy in here, stinks too.” “We have got to be more discreet if Jessie finds out…” “Oh, your beloved wife of 30 years you mean!” Clover interjected, yelling. “Clover, what’s got into you?” “A baby, that’s what’s got into me, I’m three weeks and counting.” “What are you going to do, get rid of it?” “In one deft movement, Clover slid out of the chair and slapped Atlas across the face. His glass went tumbling onto the carpet; ashen-faced with a visible three-finger imprint on his cheek, Atlas fell back into the chair.  

“You bastard, you want me to kill my child? You’re a psycho. I will never do that! This child will grow up with the best of everything. I think I might even sign for an undergraduate in Cambridge, our child will study law at the best facility. After all, this little one will have two lawyers as parents, won’t that be grand? “What about Jessie?” “I don’t care about Jessie, I have my baby, and Jessie’s yours; the difference is I will not be sharing her costs with you. She may not ever find out about your other floozies, but she will certainly know about this one.”

The door slammed, Atlas went over and sat on the bed, twisting his fingers and then combing them through his hair. “I’m ruined!” He muttered painfully.

To Cheat is like throwing a boomerang, it will always return to you. When your cheat returns to you it will be very hurtful.

If you feel this article has value, please send this link to others. Writings are meant for people, not for dormant files in our computers. Often, when we share them, it results in positive changes in the lives of individuals and communities.

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Vince-The Plan

Thieves

Feature Photo by Upsplash.com

This is the plan, the chickens coming to roost, Vince thought.

Wind buffeted the late night; it began to drizzle, the cold drops spattering onto Vince’s face. Under the lamppost, he cut a ghostly figure. “Hi, Vince.”

“You’re late!” Vince grumbled.

“I know. Got laid up at the factory.” Gordon sounded almost cheerful. “Couldn’t you have found a better venue?”

“Piss off, will you? There are eyes and ears everywhere; out here, we are on our own.”

“Yeah, I get it, bleedin cold though, eh?” “what’s the pitch, mate?”

“We move in tomorrow at dawn. The warehouse only has one alarm system. From outside, we cut the mains, then come in through the roof. From there, the battery backup is accessible. Once disabled, it’s all go.”

“Do we have a location on the goods?”

“Sure, that’s mapped and easily accessed at the far end of the warehouse.”

“Where did you get the layout details?” Gordon was now showing signs of concern.

“Does it matter?”

“Feck you, of course, it matters! My life’s on the line here.” Beads of sweat were now visible on Gordon’s face, even in the poor lamplight.

“Join the team, mate; we’re all in the same boat. Team being the word, each of us has a part.”

“Yeah, right, how come I haven’t met the others then?

“You don’t need to meet them. You drive the van in, pick up the stuff, I join you, and we head for delivery simple.”

“The others?”

“They head in other directions.”

“From there?”

“You and I do the delivery. I get the dough, give you your share, drop you off at your spot, and we split ways.”

“Where will you go, Vince?

“Look, Gordon, the less each team member knows, the better. But I will ditch the van, meet the others, pay them out, and we each take to our different routes. Listen to me now. My advice to you is this. Don’t go back to your place. Take a taxi cross country. From there, catch the ferry and finally take a plane overseas, Don’t come back, ever!”

“Looks like a frikken long way to take a trip. Why don’t I jump on a plane from the first?”

“Gordon, you thickhead, think for a second. A long way around is a long way to trace, and we can’t leave any trace!”

“Yeah, you’re right, that’s frikken smart mate, cool.”

“Wake up, will you. It will be tickets for the rest of us if just one gets caught. Poof, goes our lolly, and we sit in the cooler for a few years. The feds have had a fair deal of practice with this stuff. They know how to extract information from the likes of us.” Vince went on. “You think on that boyo, have it fixed in your face all the time, one goes, all go, right? Let’s move.”

“Cut, cut, well-done guys, great scene! Let’s get the cameras and stuff packed up. Hot food and pints at the pub then, move, move.”

The Director was satisfied with the scene; no re-shoot was necessary.

When I do not see the results of what I want coming about in my life, I give up, often on the brink of these being realized. They would have fallen into my lap if I had been patient.

If you feel this article has value, please send this link to others. Writings are meant for people, not for dormant files in our computers. Often, when we share them, it results in positive changes in the lives of individuals and communities.

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If you are spiritually inclined see my other site; www.adcrucemchristi.com

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Revenge-Wisdom Snippets From Peter.

Desolation

Feature Photo by Kaylee Stepkoski upsplash.com

I do not practice revenge or retaliation, it’s just too risky; in the long term, as with mirrors, they always return my image to me. Sometimes with distortive force! Revenge and retaliation are the evil twins of their mother, desolation.

Throughout my life I have regularly set about changing my habits; detrimental for wholesome, and wholesome for better. It gives me the feeling of a brand new life.

Learning to shape my life into what is wholesome, has paid me handsomely. Just as dunes in the wind and sand with the tides.

Bending in the wind has benefitted my life enormously. I have lost a lot more by being resistant and inflexible.

If you feel this article has value, please send this link to others. Writings are meant for people, not for dormant files in our computers. Often, when we share them, it results in positive changes in the lives of individuals and communities.

All rights reserved sirpeterjamesdotcom©2020-01-20

If you are spiritually inclined see my other site; www.adcrucemchristi.com

Please feel free to send in questions (see ‘Contact’) and comments (hit the ‘Comments’ Button.)

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Weekly Words of Wisdom-The Dandelions.

Dandelions

Feature Photo by Galina Tcarkova Upsplash.com

Learn From The Dandelions

Looking out my window, I see hundreds of Dandelion seeds blown off the mother flowers into the wind. These float as lost and unsure of which way to go, sometimes shooting upward, sometimes downward. They have no fear, though, as their Guide, the wind, knows how to lead them to their destination. The seeds yield to the way of their Guide. Shouldn’t you and I do the same and surrender to our Guide?

Strange though it may seem, It has taken many years for me to grasp this principle of yielding to my Guide. Understanding this principle was easier than trying to apply it in my life, I’m sure you know what I mean.

While I was gazing at all the little yellow sticky notes surrounding my desk area, an idea came to me. Why not put a sticky note in my mind? I realize this may sound a little off the wall, but I felt it was worth a try.

If my Guide (who lives inside me) says it works, who am I to question the issue?

The next move was how I set about placing a sticky note into my mind. A reminder that will appear at an appropriate moment, just when I need it.

Have you ever tried focusing on something often enough, and eventually, it forms an image in your mind? So this is what I did after my Guide prompted me. Hey-Ho, sticky note, here we go!

In my following morning’s meditation time, I stuck the sticky note onto my mental vision board. Since then, I consciously see the little yellow message in front of me. When I become anxious about a particular event occurring in my life, I see the sticky note in my mind. I then allow myself to yield to my Guide. This arrangement never fails me.

If you feel this article has value, please send this link to others. Writings are meant for people, not for dormant files in our computers. Often, when we share them, it results in positive changes in the lives of individuals and communities.

All rights reserved sirpeterjamesdotcom©2020-01-20

If you are spiritually inclined see my other site; www.adcrucemchristi.com

Please feel free to send in questions (see ‘Contact’) and comments (hit the ‘Comments’ Button.)

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Trail of Wilderness

Medieval Prose by sirpeterjames.com

Youth in Wilderness

Along the trail of wilderness wandered I ,my heart did cry, who am, I who am I?

Yet no reply, no reply came to my reporte. Yet did the wind call in its flight yonder.

Is this the voice I seek, the voice of my thoughtse? Nay, surely not; the wind is but a knave seeking willful sporte.

Continue reading Trail of Wilderness

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Children

 

Children

Harry Martinson 1931

 

A group of children play here – the wind cleans the sky,

the clouds dance.

Someone flings rocks, someone helps an ant home,

someone throws the hazel spear through a spider’s web;harry Martinson

Some caress lovingly – a boy and girl,

explore the skin’s smoothness, blush red,

feel giddiness, kiss with red mouths.

The wind cleans the sky, the trees sway,

The children dance in unison – in group ecstasy.

Male and female buds live on the trees;

from the same trunk they emanate all around.

The wind, the wind! The Children, the children!

Don’t bring Lenin in here, don’t bring Ramakrishna,

Come with humility

Learn the important improvisations of wildness.

New origins are born with each child.

Come! the sea murmurs

Almost wild children – a thousand possibilities

Play marbles on the shore.

 

‘The Procession of Memories’

Selected Poems 1929-1945

If you feel this article has value, please send this link to others, Writings are meant for people, not for dormant files in our computers and very often when we share them, it results in positive changes in the lives of individuals and communities.

If you are spiritually inclined see my other site; www.adcrucemchristi.com

Please feel free to send in questions (see ‘Contact’) and comments (hit ‘Comments’

button).