rocket

dig

 

The rockets rainbow glow spread across the heavens in its wake.  We were once again throwing our science and machinery into space, a feat as dazzling in math as beauty.  We are here.  We are doomed.  Our salvation is waiting for us beyond our shielding atmosphere, away from this tiny blue dot.

This rocket wasn’t even going that far.  It’s payload was orbit.  And yet it was still an essential stepping stone as the launch provided an opportunity to test capabilities that will make it easier for us to one day send our identity reaching far and wide.  The farther we can go the longer we will survive.

We have long operated from the principle of necessity breeds invention.  We run up against a need and then we figure out a solution and then we figure out how a more efficient solution and then, when possible, we automate that which frees us up to tackle new problems.  That was our history and is our future too.  We know we need to venture into that final frontier and so we will figure out how to make that a reality.  And on and on, and what a wonderful reality, beautiful and exciting, it will be.

Support Your “Local” Author

Local, as in you are all my faithful kingdomites, right?  Right!

Nothing says, “I love what you write,” like buying an author’s book.  As luck would have it, I happen to have a fun book ready for you to buy right here: The Erratic Sun

The Erratic Sun - Cover

Yep, just click the link, select Kindle or paperback, add it to your cart, check out, and then enjoy the heck out of it when it shows up in your mailbox.

And then do you know what says, “I love you more than the rest?”  Writing a review or two (or forty-two) and leaving them all over the internet for other people to find.

Did you need that link again?  Buy my book here, here, here, and here.

Or…

You could buy a signed copy of the book by sending $20 to me via: PayPal

If you decide to go that route, send me an email (djmatticus @ yahoo dot com) to let me know so we can talk inscription for the autograph and so I can get the address you want it shipped to.  (Also, some restrictions apply.  That price is for US only.  I’ll happily ship anywhere in the world I’m allowed to, but I’ll need to factor in the appropriate costs if you are in Azerbaijan.  Again, when in doubt or if you have any questions, just shoot me an email and we will figure it out together.)

Happy reading!

 

in their multitude

I step into the wind swept darkness, a hint of winter chill sampling my skin, and my steps hasten to carry me to the relative comfort of my truck and the heated morning commute.  My quickened footfalls echo in the alley; bouncing between walls and homes, speeding away from me in mimicry of my pace and returning slowly from the shadows.  The breeze has swept the air clean and the street lamps cast perfect halos, unblemished by fog or dust, to light my journey and destination, but there is more light than there should be.

My gaze is drawn to the heavens and there are so many stars…

So many stars.

Image Credit: John’s Consciousness: http://jjhiii24.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/the-fault-in-our-stars/

They send me messages of encouragement coded in winks and blinks.  They shower me in cleansing graces of the past.  They call out, each and every one of them, for my attention, demanding that I heed their warnings, take their advice, and rise to their expectations for my future.  And I find that I am overwhelmed in the glow of countless suns, with countless more spiraling planets hurtling unseen, in the space between where my feet falter to a stop and the infinite possibilities the stars imply.

This is but one reality.  This is but one truth.  This is but one planet, spinning around one sun, in a sea of life that cannot be fathomed and understood in its entirety.  There is too much to comprehend on the walk to my truck on a cold, dark, morning.  My thoughts crumble and scatter under the pressure of the beautiful unknowns and, while I flail in a vain attempt to maintain control, I only manage to keep one conscious observation as I renew my trek.

My feet carry me forward again, to one future, under so many stars…

So many stars.

time and space

He played all day in his room, from the moment he was excused from the breakfast table until he was called again for lunch, and then again in the afternoon until supper was placed on the table.  His parents worried about his antisocial tendencies but all attempts to get him to play with kids his age had ended poorly, with him in tears and the other children wondering what was wrong with him.  His mom had considered taking him to see a psychiatrist, but his father had convinced her that it was probably a phase he would grow out of if given the space and time to do so.

So, they had waited, and watched, and fretted, and years had passed and still he played with his toys and puzzles and cars and games, in his room, by himself.  His parents thought they had done something wrong, that they had somehow created a rift between him and normal society, that how he spent his days wasn’t really living at all.

It became a sad, personal, joke between them, that on the rare occasions when he was seen leaving his room on his own accord that there had been a ghost sighting.  “Did you see the ghost this afternoon?”  “Did you see that spirit sneaking food from the fridge?”  “Did you see that ethereal being wafting down the hallway?”  They were jokes, but neither of them ever laughed.

Their child was a ghost of the living, and it was all their fault.  They should have forced him to interact more.  They should have required him to spend more time outside, more time rumbling and tumbling with the neighbors, more time learning what it was to be a boy, to be alive.

Each time he asked to be excused and he pushed himself away from the table they hoped that would be the time he would ask if he could go outside and play.  And each time he dashed their hopes and disappeared into his room instead, they grew sadder and more distraught, distancing themselves from their own friends and lives until they too became ghosts.

The child had no understanding of his parents’ plight or sorrow.  He was happy as could be, building worlds, creating friends, running adventures, and allowing his rampant imagination the time and space to grow to its fullest potential.

Open Door Blue Sky

 

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The curse of the introvert?  The gift of the creative?  Where others see a problem, there may not be something that needs to be solved at all…

This is in response to this week’s Inspiration Monday writing challenge:

Inspiration Monday logo

The Rules

There are none. Read the prompts, get inspired, write something. No word count minimum or maximum. You don’t have to include the exact prompt in your piece, and you can interpret the prompt(s) any way you like.

OR

No really; I need rules!

Okay; write 200-500 words on the prompt of your choice. You may either use the prompt as the title of your piece or work it into the body of your piece. You must complete it before 6 pm CST on the Monday following this post.

The Prompts:

CARDIAC ARREST

FINGERLESS

GHOST OF THE LIVING

WASHING MACHINE

FRIDGE MONSTER

our future

Stars are the past and our future.  Endless possibilities reside in the open spaces between the twinkling lights.  One day we will be out there and it will be our intermittent beacon showing up in the sky years after we’ve become dust. ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………. Word Count:  42 This quick little space opine was written in response to the inaugural gargleblaster at Yeah Write:

“What’s so amazing that keeps us stargazing?

Remember: your job is to answer the question in 42 words. Don’t think you have to take it literally, either – be creative, and be intentional with your words.” ….. And you, dear kingdomites, why do you look to the heavens?