Lightness

History is as light as individual human life,
unbearably light,
light as a feather, as dust swirling into the air,
as whatever will no longer exist tomorrow.

― Milan Kundera

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Silent Sunday

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The End Is Nigh

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The End is Nigh! the man shouted.

Is there still time for hot chocolate? Riley asked.

The-End-is-Nigh guy blinked. Ah, maybe, I don’t know.

― Jana Oliver, Forbidden

Why, thank-you, dearie. I never say no to a biscuit. And what’s your name, young lady? Louise? The old face cracked in a smile.

Do I believe what? That the dragon is coming and the world will end tomorrow?

Now, when I was your age, the world was always coming to an end. Left and right people were predicting disasters. I think it’s because they want the world to change. And right they are! But no, I don’t think the world will end tomorrow.

The dragon, now, that’s a whole other story. The old eyes twinkled. I’ve seen it myself, you know…

* * *

T.Mastgrave’s story challenge: the End of Time.

Up in the Air

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It was a beautiful day; clouds drifted lazily overhead. Jack and his Grandfather were lying in the grass.
– See the dragon? It’s turning into a duck! They laughed.

– Look, those two have joined. Are they still two clouds? Or is it one now?
Jack frowned in concentration. Over the meadow, the clouds seemed to peter out.
– What do you think happens to the clouds when they get there?
Jack pondered. People were always telling him things. Only Grandfather asked what Jack thought.

It would be the last time the two were together. Back in school, Jack’s teacher commiserated.
– It’s alright, Jack reassured his teacher. He’s in the air now.

* * *

T. Mastgrave’ philosophical story challenge: What is the soul?

Evil under the Sun

For every evil under the sun

There is a remedy or there is none.

If there be one, seek till you find it;

If there be none, never mind it.

– from Mother Goose

Splendid Silent Sun

Give me the splendid silent sun,

with all his beams full-dazzling.

Walt Whitman

St. Peter Has a Smudge Tool!

Proof!

I am told that I talk in shorthand

and then smudge it.

J.R.R. Tolkien

The clouds really looked blurred even to the eye.