Session June 3 2017

http://cdn4.list25.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/18-cumberlandspaceman-610x488.jpg

He sounded like her father, promising impossible things because he wanted to believe.
by CRT

"Fairies are 
real, ya know."  His 
hair 
tousled by the 
breeze, his 
eyes sparked with 
mischief, his 
smile 
curved 
upward 
invited her to his 
world. She 
smiled.

"Oh," she 
thought. "He 
sounded like her 
father, 
promising 
impossible things 
because he 
wanted to 
believe." She 
sighed.

http://atlantablackstar.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/Ancient-Africa-priest-in-front-of-triumphal-arc.jpg

Dust storms and forest fires were playing hell with the solar grid.
by MD

Rameses looked to the sky and spread his arms in exasperation. Dust storms and forest fires were playing hell with the solar grid. 

"Oh great god Ra," he chanted. "We've built your shrine in the desert, the dwelling place of the sun, to honor you and follow your commands. But, Ra," Rameses continued, "I'll be damned if I, your high priest, your chosen one, can figure out what the hell you are thinking. This is the desert! Nothing grows here. There's no water. And your shrine is now littered with the sarcophagi of the workers who've died in building this edifice. What are we going to do? You see the fires - it has destroyed the forest we planted at your command. You see the dust storms. The sand is eating away at the carved friezes. What is it you want from us?" Rameses fell prostrate and beat his arms and legs on the sand.

Just then, the skies opened up, lightning crackled and torrents - no sheets - of water rained down. Within minutes, the Nile overflowed and completely inundated the land, the shrine and Rameses himself.

"Oh, now I get it," he gurgled with his dying breath. "You wanted a condo, not a shrine. Sorry for the mix-up, great god Ra." Rameses breathed in the muddy water and abandoned his spirit to his gods.

https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRnjbfOnmkW33MX3E2GJj9V9YH3ZpxBKA38L80L7sp4J1kznhCkxQ

Maybe there were never rules at all. Maybe all we have are habits.

by TNT

Tiger Sharks

She was on vacation at the beach when she observed the tiger sharks in the water - she didn't want to swim there anymore so she walked down the pier towards the Ramada. There was no-one around. The day was balmy and tropical. Best of all she didn't see any tiger sharks in the water. Tiger sharks weren't usually dangerous and didn't attack humans very often but she'd rather err or swim somewhere safe. 

She sat at the end of the pier under the Ramada and dangled her feet in the turquoise water. After a while she leaned back against a post and closed her eyes. The lapping water lulled her into a waking dream where she dreamed she saw people in the water looking up at her expectantly and they were waiting. Waiting for me? To do something? What? She asked herself. What did all these faces expect of her?

She dreamed she slipped down into the water and joined the faces. They smiled and clapped. Then she looked closer at their mouths full of needle sharp teeth - they were the tiger sharks coming to haunt her dreams like ghosts. She had crossed the barrier of human self-consciousness and sense of individuality into the world of creatures inhuman.

Maybe there never were rules at all about this - maybe all we have are habits. The habit of being humans - one step beyond human. Only a habit.

http://36.media.tumblr.com/38a790e8b330e83a6864e64656932f63/tumblr_mvy95qGPL11sylo9io1_500.jpg

Without moving your head or finger, close your right eye.

by KL

We looked at each other and did not see. We faced each other with the same face and did not see.

Inside our heads we dreamed, and our dreams grew out of our heads and blossomed.

We wore our dreams like crowns of flowers and were beautiful.

You, I thought. Do you hear me? Do you know me? I thought.

The smell of crowns was heavenly.

The colors infused a deeper layer of my skin and I knew she glowed. 

Are you me? I wondered.

Are you me? She wondered.

Without moving your head or finger, close your right eye.

https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/02/c2/3f/02c23f2f5c74cb09e5538d6da16537db.jpg

 It’s time to cook dinner, she said.

By CC

John Herbert Smithson had been cross dressing for about 5 years and considered himself pretty good at it. He was so good at it that, when he went to the café downstairs, he had to hide his face in a newspaper, both to stave off advances, and to spare passers-by the cognitive dissonance of seeing his craggy nose and straggly grey beard sprouting beneath a glossy blond wig. 

Ethel, his wife, was growing less tolerant. She often said he had a multiple personality disorder, but he knew who he was, all right. He just liked to pretend. Life would have been a lot easier if he had been born a woman, he thought privately to himself. 

One day he said it aloud, tossing his blond mane as he stepped out the door on his way to the café. He shook the Wall Street Journal out of his bag and lifted it up in front of his face. He felt admiring glances falling on him and basked privately in the glow of being desirable. But suddenly a chill shadow descended as the bulk of Mrs. Smithson appeared at his side. 

“It’s time to cook dinner,” she said in a voice dripping with sarcasm. “Then you can wash up. Then the bathroom needs mopping.” Suddenly she ripped the paper away from his face. A chorus of groans erupted from nearby diners, and a thin scream wafted across the room from a distant table. John Herbert stood up angrily, tore off his wig and followed Ethel upstairs. Later, after he had murdered her, cleaned up and fixed his hair, he went downstairs to a neighboring café and enjoyed a pleasant evening reading the Washington Post.