Do you find it hard to have a gratitude mindset? Life kicked you in the teeth one too many times? Overwhelmed? Feel undervalued? Here’s you a thought. There are 7.8 billion people on planet Earth according to a 2021 census.
At least 1 billion of those would give anything to be you. Think about that for a minute. 1 billion people would like to be you. WOW! You might be thinking; my life sucks. I’m in debt up to my eyeballs. Who in their right mind would want to be me?
1.5 billion people (nearly 20% of the global population) live with hearing loss
Nearly 70% Of World Population Lacks Religious Freedom
1 billion people includes those with moderate or severe distance vision impairment or blindness
World unemployment rate for 2021 was 6.18%
Around 2 billion people around the world do not have access to clean and safe drinking water, and approximately 3.6 billion people – 46% of the world’s population – lack adequate sanitation services
150 million people are homeless worldwide
16 million people aged 16 or over who are ‘single and have never cohabited or married’, equivalent to 34.5% of the adult population.
185,000 amputations occur in the United States each year
This list could go on for a long time.
Again I ask, who in their right mind would want to be me?
Birds hit this window all the time. It doesn’t kill them. There is a nest under my gutters; maybe they miss their mark? Chico loves to bark at everything. So a bird hitting this window does not go unnoticed.
Kol and Kessa were going over their duties for the coming week. She raised her head, sniffing at the air “do you smell that?”
They both went to the balcony. In the distance, toward the beach a fire was raging. They ran as fast as they could toward it. Other citizens joined them along the way. Soldiers kept the citizens off the beach but allowed Kol and Kessa through. Bejhar and the soldiers were packing sea water to fight the growing flames. Max met them. He was covered in sot.
“Bonfire gone wrong?” Kol asked.
“I don’t think so my king.”
“Mordechai,” Kessa yelled. Kol grabbed her by the shoulders. “Mordechai.” She struggled against him.
Max lowered his head, “there is a body in there.”
“God, let them have been dead first.” She sank to her knees in the sand. “Let them have been dead.”
Kol and Max just stared at each other.
It took all night for the fire to burn out.
Whenever they could get close enough, they put water near and moved debris from around the body.
At the temple, Kol and Kessa stood over the little frame. “Is there any way to know if this is a child?” Kol asked.
Rajaf sighed, “I know of none. Frego is in the library researching.”
“We have to find out who this was?”
He put General Marcus in charge of a kingdom wide search to find if anyone was missing. Everyone, even on the outskirts of the city. The people who camped out at the wall. Everyone was to be asked. As General Marcus did that, Kessa sent Bejhar to Brum and Teo to find out if anyone was missing. They were to be informed discretely about the remains.
Many evenings, Kessa found herself drawn to the balcony. Something in the direction behind her house, across the mountains, something was out there. Kol noticed as well. Many times he would get to missing her only to find her on the balcony.
We sat there a long time listening to the waves pound at the rocks below. Finally I could bare the strain no longer. I gave the letter I had found in the house to Holmes.
After a moment, he gave it back to me. Said not a word but got up returning to the house.
As I shut the door behind me, he called my name. I found him in the master bedroom. He drew my attention to a painting over the fireplace. It was breath taking. There stood a lady with bright red hair flowing past her shoulders in gentle waves. Her eyes were the colour of an impending storm. Everything about her was alive, alert, and breeding mischief. It was quiet an amazing portrait. After what seemed like hours of studying the painting, Holmes turned to me, “the Lady we seek.”
“Holmes,” I gasped. “She’s breath taking.”
“You are much better in this arena than I.” He brushed past me out of the room.
The next morning Holmes told me, “Watson, since this will be our last night here, we need to search everything.”
“It would be helpful to know what we are looking for.”
“Indeed.” Holmes walked into the kitchen. He was frequently disconnected and indifferent; however, something about this case was causing him to be more morose than ever. Was this indeed the woman he used to love? I was sure it was; however, in this case the last thing I wanted to draw was false conclusions.
I decided to go to the charming little room where I had been sleeping. I had been so exhausted from the trials of the past couple days that I had not yet to stopped to look around; which, was unlike me. The room itself was small but comfortable. The bed was in the center of the room. It was most unusual. Though, it was easy to tell that it was made of wood; though a craftsman such as this would be hard press to come by. The detail work was incredible. On each side of the bed was a night stand. On the night stands were lamps. At the foot of the bed was a fireplace. Above the fireplace were portraits, one of a little girl and one of a little boy. I was captivated by the one of the little girl. Her eyes were alive and alert. Though she could have been no more than a child of five, there were years of knowledge behind her smile. Her red hair flowed down her shoulders like a waterfall of fire. It looked as if it would be hot to the touch. The little boy was solemn and somewhat distracted in his appearance. It was obvious to me that they were painted in the same room but not the same place in the room. For some reason, the little boy looked vaguely familiar to me. It was something in his eyes. Then I became full aware that this little girl was the same girl in the master bedroom, only older.
The more I studied the portrait of the little girl, the more something about it struck me as odd. It looked different somehow from the little boy. Though they were the same in shape, frame, and size, she was different. “Holmes,” I called, “if you are not engaged, I would like your opinion on something.”
Holmes appeared at the door. I noticed the bed was the first thing that drew his attention.
“Handmade?” I questioned.
“Surely the bed was not why you called for me?” Holmes was dry in his question.
“No, indeed. These portraits are troubling. There is something singular about the girl.”
Holmes studied them for a long moment. As he studied them, I looked them over some more. Then it hit me, I knew why the little boy looked familiar to me, he was standing beside me. “Holmes!” I cried.
“The girl has been moved.” He took the portrait down from its hanging place. And I was unable perhaps unwilling to draw this attention to the little boys portrait again.
Upon closer inspection, there was no name of the artist on the front. However on the back was written, E’mile Jean Horace Vernet, 1860, for my darling Lizzie. Holmes pointed out that the bottom of the matting has been taken loose from the frame. Upon doing so, he found three envelopes: two considerably older than the third.
On last walk through the house, found me in the large front room. Over the impressive fire place there was a drawing in a most handsome frame. Four children were playing by a stream. One child was running toward the group. He seemed older than the others. One little boy was chasing a little girl and the other small boy was laying on his back laughing. It filled me with a sense of playfulness.
“The bliss of youth.”
Holmes was standing behind me. I jumped for I had not heard him enter the room. “Holmes, you devil.”
“My apologies, dear Watson. I meant not to startle you.”
On the train ride back to Bakers Street, Holmes was, I could only deduce, lost in thought. “Holmes?” I asked. I received no response. “I think the little girl and the grown woman in the paintings is The Lady we are trying to find. Lizzie. She was a most captivating child and a most seductive woman. I wonder who the boy was; a brother perhaps?”
Holmes only scoffed at my remarks. Could he be aware that I thought the little boy was he?
Several years ago, I took the MBP. I don’t fully remember my outcome. I want to say it was INTJ. 🤔 I was given the opportunity to take it again. These no date on this so I have no idea how old this is.
As we age and gain experience, we change. How big of a change for me? Not fully remembering my original outcome, this is best guess.
Drum roll please. ISTJ
ISTJ (introversion, sensing, thinking, judgment) – the ISTJ personality type is not rare. It is one of the most common, accounting for around 11 to 14% of the population. It is more common among men, with 14 to 19% of men having this type compared to seven to 10% of women.
Kol asked Frego and Max to join he and Kessa. She wasn’t back to her strong self but the big scare was over. They all sat on the balcony off Kol and Kessa’s chambers.
Kol poured glasses of juice as he spoke, “I know the 3 of you have been talking about a replacement for General Marcus. Where do we stand?”
Kessa sighed, “no one wants it.”
“Who did you speak with.” Kol asked.
“Me.” Max answered. “I’m happy where I’m at, my king.”
“Who else?”
“George. He’s strong, smart, a good leader.” Kessa sighed, “Captain Rede turned it down. He wishes to remain at sea.”
“On the bright side of that, he did dismiss me.” Frego smiled.
“So where does this leave us?” Kol asked.
“Without a general soon. Marcus is eager to leave.” Kessa’s voice was dry.
“If George turns it down, what about holding a competition for it?”
Kessa thought about Kol’s suggestion, “interesting.”
“What about you?” He asked Kessa.
She just shook her head no.
They continued their breakfast in silence.
It didn’t take long for Kessa to get tired. After everyone left, Kol made sure she laid down to rest. “Kessa,” he sat on the edge of the bed. “I need to talk. Do you feel up to it?”
Her voice was soft, weak. “What would you like to talk about my husband?”
He took a deep breath; praying for God to guide his words, “what did you give up?”
She looked confused. “I don’t understand.”
“Rajaf told me the white liquid wouldn’t work anymore, why?” He held her hand. “We could have waited to have gotten married. We could have waited.” He lowered his head on the bed by her side.
She rubbed her fingers through his hair. “It wasn’t our wedding.” He heard the smile in her voice.
“What did you give up?”
“Kol, I didn’t give up anything.”
“Help me understand.”
“I can’t. I really don’t understand either.” He rose up. “When I was 12, dad sat me down and started telling me about choices. And how each choice I made would some day lead to the biggest choice of my life. I was so scared that I didn’t eat for a week. I was afraid I’d make the wrong choice.” She got lost in thought for a minute. “The pool of white liquid at the barracks, Dad was insistent on it. Every time I got hurt, he was there with the stuff.”
“Max told me once there was something in it that you needed.”
“I honestly don’t know. I know dad always had my best interests at heart. If he said it was good, it was good.” She kissed the top of his hand.
“Are you still dreaming about me?”
He blushed, “no. I guess that came off as being childish?”
“No. We all want to feel loved. It was sweet.”
He held her. She was soon asleep on his shoulder. Right where he needed her to be.
Create A Story: a prompt journal to help you write a story: page 197
I was given this book for my birthday? Christmas? Hmm..
Each page has a title and 15 words you can use in the body of your story.
Here we go: a hacker accidentally enters a new realm threatening cyberspace
16 words: computer, virus, encryption, digital, hive, dark, web, imposter, invasion, threat, sync, infect, code, failsafe, trigger, switch (I’m not totally crazy. The instructions say 15 words. But the list above is 16. 🤔
Have you ever gotten an e-mail saying, ‘your e-mail address was found on the DARK WEB’? Well, that’s me. Everybody wants me but no one can find me. I’m a COMPUTERs best friend and the wrong VIRUSes worst enemy. I like to think of myself as the Robin Hood of cyberspace. I track down IMPOSTERs. Have thorted INVASIONs. Stopped countless THREATs. And killed several INFECTions. Yeah, me.
As I was searching the end of the internet; yes, there is an end. I found a DIGITAL bee HIVE. Lines and lines of CODE stacked on top of each other that looked just like a bee hive. Only it was black and swirling in all directions. Almost hypnotic. Reminded me of watching a lava lamp. This thing had more ENCRYPTIONs than the Pentagon. *wink* I should know. Multiple FAILSAFEs. After what felt like hours of decoding, the hive stopped spinning. Then the lines of code started swirling inSYNC. I just watched it spin. It stopped again. ‘It’s the end of the world as we know it,’ was repeated over and over. Just that line.
What SWITCH had I TRIGGERed? Each digit formed a bee and they flew. I watched them sting every corner of the DIGITAL world.
At that moment, my electricity went off. I ran to the door peering out into a now dark world. No lights. No sounds. Nothing. My curiosity had gotten the best of me. What had I done?
