Who wants to join me?

The hard parts gonna be finding the time. 

From Autumn’s newsletter;

Starting November 1st, the AEN Community is kicking off my FREE 100 mile walking challenge!

Especially during the holiday season, walking is a great tool to help support a weight loss and wellness goal.

So to help keep each other accountable and support one another along the way, we’re diving into our annual 100 mile walking challenge for the month of November.

That’s only 3.3 miles on average per day! And those steps can be taken on a treadmill, around your neighborhood or even in a mall ~ whatever works best for you!

100 mile walking challenge

Make sure to forward this email to a friend so that they can join in on the challenge as well ~ and it’ll ensure you have a walking partner, too 😉

❤️, Autumn

Reaching for something

Don’t know what I’m doing,

reaching in the dark. 

Searching the unknown. 

Never been down this path before.

Reaching. Touching nothing. 

Searching the darkness for anything. 

A string. A cord. A hand. An idea. 

Even a spider web.

Is there anything in the darkness;

reaching out for me?

Help me!

Guide me!

I’m coming undone!

Reaching with aching muscles,

through the darkness.

Is that a light?

A trick of mind?

Or a freight train to run my ass over!

Nothing in the darkness,

reaching back for me. 

Empty of sound. Light. 

The only thought, mine.

Desperate screams echoing in my ears,

from nothing. 

Help me! 

No?

Lost in the darkness. 

Something?

Anything?

Anyone!

Reaching in the darkness for something. 

Tired.

Cold.

Lonely.

Overwhelmed.

Blind.

Nothing but darkness. 

Lost Past; A Star Trek Story

Paramount Global owns the Star Trek franchise. This is a piece of fan fiction based on Star Trek the Next Generation.

Back to the drawing board

    Picard was furious. He summoned Data to his office. “Data, what is this?” He waved a recorder at Data.

     “The report on the Sheno’s history that you requested sir.”

     “This tells me nothing. It’s garbage.” Data didn’t move. “You did this on purpose.”

     “Yes, I did.”

     “Why?”

     “I cannot do what you ask.”

     “You will. Translate the Sheno’s history for me. I want to read it.” Data never said a word. He walked out of Picard’s office.

Translating the Sheno’s history was to this point the hardest thing Data had ever done. He would write awhile and be sick awhile. The actual process of translating wasn’t difficult. It was the personal aspects that killed him. The more he read it the angrier and more confused he became.

     Picard walked onto the bridge. “Well Picard,” he was greeted by Westerfield

“Where is your precious android?”

     “Mr. Data is busy by my command.” Picard sat in his chair forcing Westerfield up. 

     After a couple hours, Data walked on the bridge, he handed Picard a recorder. If looks could have killed, Picard would have melted in his chair. Data took his station. Picard began to read. 

     As he continued to read, Counselor Troi could feel Picard’s mood changing. She knew that whatever it was he was reading it wasn’t good. Time on the bridge seemed to stand still after that.

     “Mr. Data.” Picard got up; Data followed him to the ready room. “Is this true?”

     “Part of it is.”

     “Part of it?” Picard asked in amazement. “Which part?”

     Data was numb. He swallowed hard before answering, “I know there was an attack. I know the attacker was killed and in the manner described. That is all I can confirm.”

     “How?” The tone of Picard’s voice changed. It softened.

     I saw the aftermath of the attack and I watched as the attacker was killed.”

     “Data, Captain Dom said this was the last 100 years.” Picard laid the recorder on the table. “The first 70 years of this is pretty tame compared to the last 30.”

     “Was this woman that important? Important enough to recreate, as they call it, an entire planet?”

     “The importance is to whom is she important?”

     “I don’t think anyone is worth destroying this many lives over?”

     “What if that was your child? What if you had the power to do it? Would your answer be the same? You’ve never had children Captain. Think about your answer before you respond. A child is the greatest gift a man or woman will ever be given. Would you not avenge your child’s death with every means at your disposal?”

     “But the lady didn’t die.”

     “No, she didn’t. But if that is correct, her baby did.”

     “Was the baby yours?”

     “I do not know.” Data gagged.

     “Data, you said you saw the aftermath of the attack. What did you see?” Data saw that image again. “Her abdomen had been torn out, from her diaphragm to her ovaries. I could see her spinal column. There was blood everywhere. On her face, on her hands, on the ground around her.”

     “How was this fellow connected to her?”

“He was found in a cave on the far side of the planet.” Data choked back the tears, “eating his treasures.”

     “Data, I want you to go over to the Jormungad. I want some answers. I want to know how the attack on the Addo unfolded. I want a report on the ships logs. What are we getting ourselves into?” He sighed. “Perhaps it’s much too late?” 

     “Yes sir.” Data got up to leave.

     “I want you to take Geordi with you. Search every inch of it again.” 

     “Yes sir.”

     Data left

Lost Past; A Star Trek Story

Paramount Global owns the Star Trek franchise. This is a piece of fan fiction based on Star Trek the Next Generation.

Pray

    Data knelt beside his bed, “Sher I know you can hear me. Do not destroy the HaBlich home world. If you must destroy something, hurt only those that are responsible for your pain?”

    “That is very noble of you Data.”

    “Q, what do you want?”

    He walked around the bed to the other side, kneeling with Data. “I want the same thing you want. I want her to live.” He paused for a moment. “She can heal herself can’t she?”

    “It will take time. I,” he thought. “I have never prayed before. The concept was as hard to grasp as emotion itself. Now, I feel the need to pray for her well-being; though, I have no idea who to pray too.”

    “Pray to her God.”

    “How?”

    “Did she never tell you about her faith?”

    “If she did, I do not remember it.”

    Q materialized a book. “Read this.” He was gone.

    Data sat in a chair and began to read. Half way through the book, his door chimed. “Come.”

    Picard entered, “how are we doing Mr. Data?”

    “We are doing fine sir. What can I do for you?”

    “You are reading the Bible?” He questioned.

    “Yes sir, I am.”

    “May I ask why?” 

    “I feel the need to pray for her but I do not know who to pray to. Q suggested that I pray to her God. So I am learning about him.”

    Picard walked over to the bed. “How did you get her off the slab?”

    “It was not easy.”

    “Why does this purple cloth look familiar?”

    “It was Sera’s cape. She gave it to us to cover Sher with so that the sun would not cook her. I laid Sher on it to remind her that not all of the HaBlich are bad people. Sera knew they had committed a horrible act. Her dreams were a prophecy of what was to come. Sera has the capacity to reform her people and bring equality to the HaBlich. She needs the opportunity to live up to her potential.”

    “Data you are becoming more and more human everyday.”

    “This has been the most painful experience I have ever been through.” Data had joined Picard by the bed. He was staring at her. 

    “Is this the lady that was in the painting?”

    “Yes, Scheherezade.” Data let out a long sigh.

    “Do you have any idea what she went through?”

    “What she shared with me only scratched the surface.”

    “You are joking.”

    “I do not think this is the appropriate time for humor, sir?” Data questioned.

Not my home

I sit here staring at a computer screen;

this world is not my home. 

Traffic flows past my window;

this world is not my home. 

I flip over to read the headlines: body shaming, violence, natural disasters; 

this world is not my home. 

There’s an emptiness inside me that burns;

this world is not my home. 

Pour water on that fire. Yet the embers smolder. 

Get over yourself, build a home. 

At times, I feel like an unwelcome guest. A pest.

How many times have I tried to make this world my home?

Do this! Don’t do that! Don’t be a brat. You’re making this harder than it needs to be. 

You are home. 

If you would just ——,

this would be the perfect home. 

Make yourself fit into this delicate box.

See! You fit! Eureka! You’re home. 

How many times have I tried;

to make this world my home?

There’s a yearning. Wheels turning. A deep need, to find a place where I belong.

Yet, this world is not my home. 

The stars. The moon. The vast beyond, beckon me; to a great unknown,

that might be my home?

A heavenly place. A sacred space.

My forever home?

Microwave cup Brownies: Autumn Bates

1/2 of a banana or 1/3 to 1/2 cup pumpkin purée (depending on your taste, I used 1/2 cup pumpkin purée)

1 egg 

Splash of vanilla extract 

2 scoups chocolate protein powder 

1 teaspoon cocoa powder

2 tablespoons almond flower

1/2 teaspoon baking powder 

Microwave until done. Could take up to 4 minutes, depending on microwave strength. 

For the topping pictured; 

3 tablespoons plain Greek yogurt

1 tablespoon peanut butter

Mix the 2 until well blended

Added 1 teaspoon chia seeds 

A few more chocolate chips

This started out as dessert. Couldn’t eat it all so it became breakfast.

Lost Past; A Star Trek Story

Paramount Global owns the Star Trek franchise. This is a piece of fan fiction based on Star Trek the Next Generation.

Distress 

    Picard was sitting in his office when his door chimed. “Come.” It was Data.

    “What do you have for me?”

    “Nothing sir.”

    “Nothing,” he motioned for Data to sit. “Explain.” 

    “The Jormungad’s computer system is like the Enterprise. It will tell you automatically who accessed the computer system and when. According to the logs, the HaBlich deleted the astrological charts. I would theorize it was an accident. They were unaware of what they were doing?” Data was silent for a moment. “Captain, I brought something back with us from the HaBlich planet.”

    “What?” Picard sat straighter in his chair.

    “Come with me sir.” Picard followed Data to his quarters. In the corner of the room standing up against the wall was a large golden slab. Lying on Data’s bed was the gelatinous mass from the cage. 

    “Data, what is that?” Picard was shocked. “Do you know the harm this could do to my ship?”

    “It is not a what,” Data never took his eyes from the mass. “It is a who. A person. And it will do this ship more harm if we did not intervene.”

    “Captain,” Wil’s voice boomed over his communicator.

    “Yes.”

    “We are receiving a distress call from the HaBlich planet.”

    “On my way.”

    He and Data entered the bridge, “report!” He ordered.

    Geordi’s voice came over the intercom. “Sir, I have the engines in full reverse. We are still moving forward.”

    The view screen came into focus. The HaBlich princess was sending out a distress call to anyone that could hear her. The image was distorted. “Help us. Our planet is being destroyed.”

    “This is Captain Jean-Luc,”

    “Do not try sir.” Worf growled.

    “We cannot get through the atmospheric interference.” Data responded. 

    There is more to the message. I am attempting to clean it up.” Data reported. The Princess voice filled the bridge, “Enterprise; if you get this message, Data.” The image shook. The Princess fell. It was obvious she was struggling to get the message out. “My nightmares are coming true.” 

    “That is all of the message, sir.” Data reported.

    “Mr. Crusher, you are excused.” Picard ordered. Wesley promptly left the bridge. Westerfield sat in his chair.

    “What does that mean Data?” He turned around to face Picard.

    “The book I gave her was a dictionary of geologic terms. She told me she was having nightmares about her planet being torn apart by forces she was unfamiliar with. She said they had never happened on her planet in its recorded history. She had no names to call the events in her dreams.”

    “Her nightmares are coming true.” Picard restated.

    “Would it have anything to do with what you took from the planet?” 

    “It would have happened anyway sir. You read the Sheno’s history, sir. It can be a lot worse. If geologic upheaval is all they experience, they will be lucky.”

    “What did you bring aboard the Enterprise, Data?” Westerfield hissed.

    “Your mistake. And I left a present in your quarters.”

    “You went into my quarters?” Westerfield jumped out of his chair.

    “Do not worry. I just dropped something off. With the caliber of your personality, you will get great satisfaction out of it.” Westerfield backed slowly off the bridge. “Oh Admiral, every time you look at that. Imagine what it would look like as a coffin.” Westerfield tripped over the ramp leading off the bridge. He stood back up, scurrying out the door.

    “You scared the wits out of him.” Deanna reported. 

    “He does not comprehend the meaning of fear, yet.”

Love is

Love is a mosquito buzzing around your head.

Love is a concept, someone once dared. 

Love is lost. 

Love itself is a cost. 

Love is empty. 

Love? Simply?

Love is cruel. 

Love will kick you like a stubborn old mule. 

Love is an idea, written about in books, poems, songs, movies sold. 

Love has been theorized with words, untold. 

Love is fleeting.

Love is a chance meeting?

Love will leave you wrung out. Spent!

Love; there logic went!

Love; we want it. Need it!

Love will screw you while you try to achieve it. 

Love is a dull ache that won’t go away. 

Love – that’s all I can say. 

Monday Poetry Prompt: Falling in Love | Living Poetry