I pleaded with her.
Heck, Silently. She had the oxygen mask over my mouth. I injected all the emotions I felt into my eyes. Cold steel pumped through a single vein at the back of my hand. I heard the silent hum of the machine as it pushed pain, again.
‘Take it out,’ my eyes said. ‘I cannot bear this any longer. I’d rather die than bear the pain.’
Did she hear me? Or had she seen this all before? I heard her say that she understood. She said I would be asleep soon. …
Last week, I had the most fun with five friends on Zoom, as I introduced them to a new space bringing not-so-new ideas into a virtual space. In this article, I take you through my journey.
Lockdown introduced everyone to the world of virtual meetings. Of course we always had virtual meetings, webinars and video calls, but lockdown took it to a new level. Team meetings, one to one meetings, daily catch ups, working groups, sales pitches — online. Parents and children chatted online, we had online weddings, birthday parties and we joined online conferences. Zoom became a household name.
A Tiny Life Moment of finding hope in the dreariness of life
The squirrel was not budging. It positioned itself in the middle of the path and watched me. I was the intruder, the outsider. But I was also the human, so I walked on. It scurried away, and I continued down the path towards the garden of hope, an area set aside for the burial of ashes. Right in the middle was the Hope stone. ‘’God is with us so there is hope,’ it read. On one side, and the other. A simple statement shone into my heart.
In the first lockdown, the birds seemed louder, the world was greener, we listened, we philosophied, we wrote. The planet was healing, the air purer. Everything mattered including toilet paper.
In the second lockdown, we didn’t notice the birds, the world was the same as usual, we no longer listen, the fumes returned, busy cars scuttling on crowded roads . Nothing matters, we all just want to get to the end.
In the first lockdown, we followed the figures, listened to Boris*. We were not sure how to stay alert, but we tried to control the virus. We sang as…
Love them, or hate them. ‘Commas’ and ‘fullstops’ are here to stay. What if we used them, but used them wrongly? Would we discover new meanings? A zing zang flow. Fun? A new way of writing sentences.
In this experiment, I wrote a short story about making Butternut Squash soup. Then I gave it a brand new look and flow. Most of my reworded story sucked, but within it, I found new gems, sentences I loved. I hope you find them too.
The Making of Butternut Squash
I must have checked the recipe at least five times. Out of ten…
The bots certainly knew what videos to choose. (Watch The Social Dilema on Netflix). So I am still on Facebook Watch, even as I write this. Reality talent shows are cleverly edited to tug at your heart strings. I know. But that does not stop me watching the best of x-factor videos and Britains got Talent videos.
I am moved by the several singers. As the judges skilfully without prior knowledge asks leading questions causing the contestants to reveal the previous pain and hurt that brought them to the stage. As an emotionally charged song plays in the background
You’ve been there. A brilliant story idea, exciting characters, fascinating new world. Thrilling scene sequences, cliff hangers. You have all the elements to write an amazing work of fiction. But how do you put these together, so readers turn each page with anticipation. Think of the number of times you start a book. Within ten minutes you’re bored. You force yourself to continue whilst losing the will to live. Finally you give up. A few days later, you watch E.T The Extra Terrestrial or The Hangover, and you are engrossed for over two hours until the last scene.
It was a DJ on the radio.
He asked a simple question, ‘when was the last time you ate humble pie?’ I thought about this and ended up blank. I very rarely eat humble pie, but that’s because I add caveats in every opinion I give. What about you?
Eating humble pie is the moment when you realise you were wrong in an area where you confidently thought you were right. Most people would apologise, some will back-track and rectify this issue. Others will stubbornly hold their views. Ring a bell?
Ouch, this could be a difficult write, but it…
Jesus, help me, save me. Get me off this motorway. Jesus spare my life. I am afraid. I cannot handle this.
I started off muttering to myself, the music blaring. Then the music became a distraction. I turned it off and prayed. This time aloud. Death if it happened would be a relief. If I survived an accident, it would be with life-altering injuries. The traffic on the road was way too fast, that dark rainy night.
I continued praying, this time loudly. Shouting in my car.
Jesus, help me, save me. Get me off this motorway. Jesus spare my…
It’s less than a perfect world
I am reminded
as I walk through the chaos of broken lives
That I live in less than a perfect world
As portions of humanity sweep by
leaving a wake of despair
I see scars of Adam’s fall
In less than a perfect world
As my heart in motion breaks
I wonder at the pain caused in God
for this less than perfect world
was the broken dream of a perfect God.
This entry was from my journal: Saturday May 13th 1995
I was 25 and I had visited Cheshire Homes, an…
Crafting sentences that heal, treasuring tiny life moments. Liberating a stochastic brain. Christian. Writer. Unfinished. Building a world of hope through words