This post is an annual event I usually post on Maunday Thursday to raise awareness of some of the smaller events of hearts 2,000 plus years ago that took place that night and into early Good Friday morning and what it all now means to me. The original posting was also a Maunday Thursday twelve […]
Category: Short Stories
FREE Audio Narration Experiment Several people have asked about audio narration, so I’ve decided to try it out for the first time. The story is a freebie, so I would love to hear your comments at gdogwise@live.com “Reluctant Princess” was the short story I selected. The recording runs 53 minutes and can be listened to […]
The Thickness of Relationship Is every castaway someone marooned on a deserted island? Is that the first image that comes to mind? One can be a castaway who has been cast away. This circumstance can be a precursor to depression if not addressed by finding and maintaining meaningful relationships with the Spirit and others stranded […]
Categories
Scattered & Smothered
This is a true story, though it may have been embellished just a bit by taking pieces from several occasions where I immersed myself into the world of Waffle House at 2:30 AM…or so. For those who have never had this opportunity in life, prepare for a little cultural learning experience whether you find yourself […]
Stupid shows up in many of these stories and represents numerous missed opportunities for the Grim Reaper to have taken me out years ago. He is either incompetent, or I’m just damn lucky to still be here, still writing stories, still lying, and still embellishing the truth to add color and interesting commentary.
I only ask that you do not judge me, as I’ve already earned an express ticket straight to hell on my own for one enhanced truth you’ll read about shortly in “Possom Wars.”
An AI supposedly has no emotions or feelings and virtually none of the senses of an organic, which is what AIMEE calls humans. Take emotions ranging from pleasure to rage and plug them into an AI with no experience or context, and you have, lets’ say…opportunities.
How far can they trust an AI with access to every team member’s mind? The AI had enabled huge successes, so they could not afford to have AIMEE’s servers powered down. They needed to embrace AI-empowered thinking, which proved to be more painful to some than others.
If we had not been gifted by what He did for us on Good Friday over 2,000 years ago, the bunnies, plastic grass, and colored eggs would be all that matters on this Easter Sunday. I hope those of you who are reading this for the first time (or again) feel the increased appreciation for Good Friday as I have, and I welcome those of you here who are reading Happy Easter!
This writing will become a living work, and new Farts and Thoughts will be added as they happen…or as soon as I get around to it. I will add new writing additions at the top of the list to minimize scrolling to find whatever is new. As a warning, I confess to being awake most of the time…but a far cry from woke…so if I offend anyone…bummer!
This post is the third installment of Mirror, Mirror. It may be the final posting since this piece is heading toward a larger self-published project. I welcome your thoughts, be they good, bad, or ugly because they only improve future work. Enjoy!
Coming awake in a strange place can be unsettling; consider how much worse it could be to figure out the strange place is a county jail cell. That’s where Sandy found herself. In a cell, by herself, with the floodgates opening, she let in the memories of how she managed to be in the slammer. Suspicion of murder, accessory to murder, or the entire enchilada of murder in the first degree; they were not sure which charge would stick. While law enforcement attempted to sort out a best-fit fate, they decided she should spend a little time in the county lock-up and dressed in the latest fashion statement – an orange jumpsuit with PRISONER stenciled across the shoulders on the back.
The mystery deepens for Sandy, knowing her arrest was imminent for something she did not do despite what the murder prevented happening to her.
When Sandy returned to her room, she dropped the backpack on the bed, climbed in, crossed her legs under her, pulled the book from the pack, and pushed away the plastic covering. She turned to where she had stopped reading earlier and began to read. She was not so concerned about ending the relationship anymore, thinking she had better find out what else the book could reveal to incriminate her should push come to shove with law enforcement.