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Short Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor
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War Earth Date June29th. 2022
“It has been like a constant background noise.
There is no Peace, it is not like 2021 was not a difficult year 2022 sure went sideways on us.
What is hard to take is that people quote the propaganda to you.”
Joe Blurb is a homeless on a city street in North America.
“They said they did not want nuclear war so in the first two months of this year, when Putin was making it clear he felt threatened.
Nobody talks to him. NATO does nothing to call his bluff and lets him walk into Ukraine.
Pain, Yeah Shure there is pain. Just like being homeless on the street on a frigid winter night or having you house burn or flood due to climate change, but this pain was man made.”
I have never seen so many stupid, ignorant, and plain misinformed bunch of Politian’s then there are leading the countries of NATO right now. They should all Know War is Failure.
We have a new cold war, and these NATO guys want more of it. More Arms and a Ukraine Counteroffensive in the late summer or fall to take back all the territory lost to the Russian.
Are you listening to me Weed?
Weed Sutor, is sitting on a stolen lawn chair, at the entrance to an abandoned building. Bottles and food rappers litter the ground along with needle casings and blood and urine stains.
“What did you say? I did not hear you; I am still coming down from last night.
Joe, “I said they are going to put us in a concentration camp”
Weed, “It would not surprise me, we already live in a ghetto. Hey, you got anything to smoke?”
Joe continues his Tirade, “They sanction Russian oil, so China buys up the slack.
Weed, “you Hear about that guy who shot a sandwich maker because over the amount of mayo on the sandwich?
Joe. “Yes, I heard about that. Gun violence in American is unreal, still were lucky we do not live in a communist country.”
Short Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor
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The Last Sin Earth Date May 13th. 2022
The final Sin, short fiction Phil Musgrave May 13th Friday 2022
“Bless me father for I have sinned. I have not been to confession since the time of the dinosaurs.”
Father O’Toole “Well that was a million years ago. What have you been doing since then?”
“Sinning, Father, the weight is heavy on my soul,”
I committed suicide.
“If you did that you would not be able to talk to me now. Son, I must tell you now that God loves you. I know that sounds like a cliché, you are his creation.”
“May I ask your age?”
“I was 73 when I died”
“Then I am hearing the confession of a ghost.”
“Not so Holy, but maybe a ghost.”
“Confess to me your sins, ghost.”
“You want My sin?
“Oh no I already have my own.
Ghost “then tell me, your sins.
“I failed my God fifteen times and had lusty thoughts about big breasted women.
Ghost, I give you a penance of ten hail Mary’s; and a good act of contrition.”
Father O’Toole, “What is it you have done?”
Ghost “I told you, father, can you save me from hell?”
Ghost about two hours ago I took slow acting poison.
“Why?”
“Because I needed time to confess.”
“I meant why did you take your life?”
“My life had no more use for me.
The only reason to live is to love. That was a loss to me.
Somebody long ago told me that my life story reminder them of the elephant man.
That was when I grew my trunk”
The priest is laughing, ‘you mean chip on your shoulder?”
Ghost, “Yeah, I got more chips and dents than a scrap dealer’s car.
“So, you are going to take that wonderful sense of humor with you.”
O’Toole, “do you sing?”
Ghost, “and dance too”
O’Toole, “The Irish love to sing. One of the worst losses I ever had in my life, was the loss of my brother, John, that man could sing anything, with or without the accent.
Ghost sing with me now”
Together the two men sing in the confessional box an Irish ballad, and when they get to the words, Lord have pity and mercy on me. Only one voice sings lustily with the accent.
The Ghost is gone.
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor
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INTERFACE Earth Date June 16th. 2022
Seth is stating the facts “It is in the face, that face has a history, every face does. That is what they look at. Your face can tell if you're lying, upset, or unhealthy.
Remember the amber alerts, I am not saying there is not an effective tool to fight crime. I have always wondered how the police are able to ring all those phones of different makes and models, they all ring at the same time.”
Reb replies, “I think you’re a little paranoid, Seth nobody out there is looking at your face.”
Seth “A robot could, I mean I think we as society have given the internet too much power? I think the Canadian winter does not help either.”
“Winter; What has winter got to do with it? I know it is cold dark and freezing in January, but we manage”
“I will say. “Seth is determined to make a point. “That online food orders go up at least 50% in wintry weather.
“So, your point being?”
“Well look at what they're selling, Wiif brand Coffee, I have never seen that at the Food Supermarket and then things you cannot find on supermarket shelves are available by subscription online.”
“So, what is your beef?”
“I think we're handing them control of the food chain.”
“So”
“Not everyone can afford to shop online, for their food, music, and movies and not everyone has access.
“No newspaper has the obituaries, sponsored by Happy Hanks Hardware store, anymore.”
“Yeah, Good point I am afraid to ask my older friends how their better half is in case I burst into tears.”
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor
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A Day in the Life of God Earth Date June 14th. 2022
It was only yesterday and today in the forest of the dreams where Lion sat naked on a rock, replaced by his own creation.
Today he was going to think of things, time, and people. Lion was a nickname. God was another. His real name was redeemer.
He was not doing that now. He was waiting for a moment, a moment to appear in another alien world and partake in the culture.
To create the hope of redemption, faith, which would be his song in one more world.
Very few of his chosen creations had ever made it stick, forty thousand years was the best.
His father had chosen the day of Armageddon for all those he had visited.
It was to be a theistic God, the commandments different for each world except the one to love on another that would always be the same.
On the planet Octa the species with a domain was the Octopus. But it really did not matter because they were too engaged in war.
On earth he had brought humans forward. They had made toys and now they were not talking.
If ever there was a case for divine disappointment and depression but who could council a God. Only %25 percent of the worlds he had visited were still ready for the ascension of the redeemed.
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor
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Benjamin Earth Date June 10th. 2022
In the forest where the mushrooms grew tall with the poison that they held out. In other words, pick me.
climate change has allowed them to grow here.
A place where they had not been allowed before.
The climate history of planet earth has changed. flora and fauna is changing worldwide and on the move fleeing danger, or seeking new opportunities for food and family.
The same restless movement had an echo in the human world. fleeing constant fire, or excessive heat flooding along the coastal regions was a threat never seen by human kind. climate change was real.
A great pipeline had been constructed. The water being sucked from North America's great lakes as if by a Greek God of old legend using a paper straw.
The water tumbeled into the thirsty belly of lake mead.
Nations did not ask, they just took what they needed.
In a tiny lab located in New York state Benjamin Forestell was working with a model of climate control.
God’s algorithms had to be understood while A =c d and e do #4:n while A =f begin S end while>.
It was the math of weather. Incorrect math could cost crop failure. His sandbox used before to predict the movement of water was now filled with artifical montians, desert and plains.
Cloud seeding had become an art.
To make rain there was iodine to make it stop there was salt.
Everything works together it had to it wasn't much good any other way.
So Benjamin so far had to be lucky, But he was only a boy in the garden of a great man,the Creator God.
Hurricanes still ravaged the Earth.
Great fires still had to be brought under control.
The communicator called in It was a president "we have a bad one out in Texas you know that I want no more damage. Can you help us?"
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor
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Jacob Earth Date June 10th. 2022
The year on planet Earth is 2324, Jacob the robot is speaking in the Kings English, “This one is dead!”
Sam.” “No this is a biological unit it is only sick, and you can see it is still productive working from home.”
Sam, “How did you get the name Jacob?”
” My grandfather was a customer relations robot that responded to questions on a chat line. His name was Jacob as well.
Sam, “My grandmother was a smart TV.”
” That is good, I would not want a friend who has evolved from a dumb TV.”
“Well, if truth be told…”
Jacob interrupts here, “what is our agenda here?”
Sam, “We are acting as monitors.”
“Well, mine is up to date.”
“No not that kind, Jacob, human, the humans, we are supposed to monitor the humans.”
“For what?”
“Any deviation from the norm.”
“Norm?”
“Every country has set rules for behavior and productive contribution quotient, it was all part of the G8 summit agreement of 2222.”
“Well, there's one there getting out of bed at 8:00 in the morning.”
“Yeah, but his shift doesn't start till 10 am.”
“What about that one still sleeping?”
“OK I will mark that down as investigate.”
“Did you know I'm building my son, I'm so excited.”
“That is great what are you going to call him?”
“Jacob the 5th.”
“Truly original, Jacob.”
“Now do not go bringing religion into this there is nothing biblical here it's just a name.”
“Nothing is of the kind; I was just thinking about the next tablet sale, online.”
“Oh no, the power's gone out I can't see a thing, can you?”
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor
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The Kill Earth Date June 7th. 2022
The death was sudden in the smiling Jaws of the swamp fox, natural, painless.
However frightening it was for the little duck was not an answered question. The fox was to eat that day. Knowing his turn would come.
He did not have a mind to understand the beauty of the dark green bullrushes growing near a human footprint in the earth called road. No mind to make songs or poems about the red winged black bird startled from sleep as he lunged for the duck.
All become victims of time counting the length of life by the purple, pink, gold, sunset of this night’s summer sun. all brought about by a mother earth's magnetic attraction, that cause a tilt in her spin. A mother who had witnessed such murders before.
Earth too answered to time.
And protected her nature from the outside, as the deeds done within the mother, kept in her protection form the danger of a Universe of significant beauty, power, and random terror.
This crime in nature was simple, with no reach to the mortality of a soul.
No pimple filled with infection, no cancer, no attempt to cure the pile of feathers left on the stream bank where the fox had dined.
No prayer of thanks given by the fox. As a native Aboriginal would give thanks to the spirit of the dead animal, that belief said would be there.
The fox continued his way. Absent in his mind thoughts of why the moon always showed the same face to his mother earth, or even why his duck dinner had taken flight yesterday to a nearby pond.
A human, a creation of nature herself, had also seen the demise of the duck from the footprint called road. In a mind aware of the Universe beyond the playpen of the earth. The understanding and awareness of pain. An emotional response to the action of murder was another murder.
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor
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The Garden Earth Date May 5th. 2022
The Garden: Fiction Copyright Joseph Philip Musgrave
The plums were just the children of the tree from the seed that had been planted deliberately by the garden gnome. The base of the tree was wild with flowers, that in the fullness and strength of early summer respond by spreading open. shaking the dew from velvet petals waiting for the touch of a bee.
A well-used human footpath passed like a whisper as it moved on to other garden secrets.
The path, the boundary between the dirt at the base of the tree and the shaggy soft one-inch-high grass that was cool and soft to the naked foot.
The path moves on through the story of the property to a place where vegetables grew in cultivation. The tall strong tomato plants, beside each one a tall chestnut brown stick. The Green lumpy leaves of potatoes appeared from the tops of mounds of soil.
Bunches of beetroot Leaves, so good when boiled and buttered; stood in solemn clustered rows.
The was more, but for now the eye detected a movement that did not fit with the summer breeze.
It was an animal, a hare, sitting quietly. She came to that patch of unkept rough grass often. For underneath, a small blanket of fur was eight baby wild Hares.
The fur torn from her body, an instinct, of a protective mother. She had first found a hollow and lined it with fur when the need came. Then leaving her babies covered with a blanket of fur on top.
The naked human foot can go no further for the path is now small stones and moves in the another direction.
past more Garden and Razor grass that will cut human skin.
Still human children play there. Their skin marked as decorated soldiers with bleeding cuts that beg for the warmth of a mother’s touch and a bath.
Then to the shade from the heat under the willow branches where the aphids are farmed by the ants for the sweet nectar.
Here there is a large ditch with a bridge fashioned from the discarded top of a dining room table.
From there the path leads on to where the garter snakes sunbathe among the Rocks.
The choke cherries that even the birds won’t eat. Then back up the hill past the green tool shed, past the sand box and the big lazy yellow and red wooden swing.
To the back door where the bottles of milk would freeze in the winter making little ice cream cones.
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
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Summer Earth Date May 8th. 2022
Fiction Copyright Joseph Philip Musgrave. Summer
The Summer heat had become more than any human had dreamed about during the frigid winter.
So, air conditioning buzzed in homes. these unnatural units would poke their mantellic face from the high attic windows of expensive housing. Bringing thoughts to mind of the Ice cream truck and the long passage of summer through the eyes of childhood,
No prayer at the end of the day to God the father about saving the world. Amazingly simple, please take care of Mommy and Dad and Rufus the dog. These are the innocents of eternal play. Even Pandemic, the word has left little outward sign of damage.
The revel in the heat turns skin brown and then the red of a burn of the sun. A gift from summer taken too fast. Summer is slow. Any pain from the red burn replaced by the taste of a juicy hotdog with mustard, and a careless stain on a new t shirt that is the color okra, the tomatoes and corn relish.
This is also a summer for a child to cry in fear and loss and live in a city that is flat with only shades of gray in the sweat of an underground bunker.
To cry Mommy may I never lose you.
This is a war. An aberration of the human mind. A failure, a reason to hate. Children do not participate in the game. Like the careless mustard stain on a summer worn t shirt. Children are there.
Short Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
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The Last Sin Earth Date May 13th. 2022
The final Sin, short fiction Phil Musgrave May 13th Friday 2022
“Bless me father for I have sinned. I have not been to confession since the time of the dinosaurs.”
Father O’Toole “Well that was a million years ago. What have you been doing since then?”
“Sinning, Father, the weight is heavy on my soul,”
I committed suicide.
“If you did that you would not be able to talk to me now. Son, I must tell you now that God loves you. I know that sounds like a cliché, you are his creation.”
“May I ask your age?”
“I was 73 when I died”
“Then I am hearing the confession of a ghost.”
“Not so Holy, but maybe a ghost.”
“Confess to me your sins, ghost.”
“You want My sin?
“Oh no I already have my own.
Ghost “then tell me, your sins.
“I failed my God fifteen times and had lusty thoughts about big breasted women.
Ghost, I give you a penance of ten hail Mary’s; and a good act of contrition.”
Father O’Toole, “What is it you have done?”
Ghost “I told you, father, can you save me from hell?”
Ghost about two hours ago I took slow acting poison.
“Why?”
“Because I needed time to confess.”
“I meant why did you take your life?”
“My life had no more use for me.
The only reason to live is to love. That was a loss to me.
Somebody long ago told me that my life story reminder them of the elephant man.
That was when I grew my trunk”
The priest is laughing, ‘you mean chip on your shoulder?”
Ghost, “Yeah, I got more chips and dents than a scrap dealer’s car.
“So, you are going to take that wonderful sense of humor with you.”
O’Toole, “do you sing?”
Ghost, “and dance too”
O’Toole, “The Irish love to sing. One of the worst losses I ever had in my life, was the loss of my brother, John, that man could sing anything, with or without the accent.
Ghost sing with me now”
Together the two men sing in the confessional box an Irish ballad, and when they get to the words, Lord have pity and mercy on me. Only one voice sings lustily with the accent.
The Ghost is gone.
Short Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
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Nature Earth Date May 13th. 2022
Spring Sunset Short fiction with links by phil Musgrave May 14, 2022
The sunset of spring before the summer solstice but a time after the duck had laid eggs in a snowstorm, in black and white camouflage, refusing to move in the protection of a clutch of eggs, only 4 weeks ago.
Now the sun had come as a friend not too hot, but in the cool of the evening. The one cloud in the sky an inverse of color, of Amber and dusty gold, acts as counterpoint to the green and turquoise of the land and lake below.
Identify a bird seen in Ontario by color (whatbird.com)
Two Clarks Nutcrackers dart across the heavens on the journey home to bed. The campfire blazes yellow flame from the pit dug into the Tan soil far away from any flammable sandy colored grass.
LunaPic | Free Online Photo Editor | Color Names
Big juicy hotdogs, angus beef, and sugar marshmallows and a kettle for coffee mark the only signs of humankind’s dominion over planet earth. The talk is silent, and a loon calls out. Part of nature's conversation. A concerto with the accompaniment of the whisper of the spring breeze passing through a patchwork quilt of wildflower that form a border between the sandy beach and the grass.
As the sky darkens a huge blood red moon follows in an altered course across the sky. Chasing the sun. with the secrets of a dark side always hidden from view as the eternal pendulum of the passing of time.
Orbit Simulator | Academo.org - Free, interactive, education.
Short Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
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Lake Mead Earth Date May 20th. 2022
A letter to my Grandson
Dear Son
I have fewer years in front of me than all the years behind.
So, I thought it was time you had the letter.
You are only fourteen years old, and your life should be happy, you are becoming a man.
Hold on to your dream son, never let go. Take them everywhere you go.
Those little dreams you have now can become real with challenging work and dedication. You want to become an auto mechanic, play hockey, and work with wood. Those are good dreams son.
When your older allow the love that has made you strong to continue the story, and in time have a family of your own and a home.
Just a couple of words here son, always remember that war is failure.
WAR SHOULD Never happen.
It hurts too much and is too hard to stop.
Any war must stop before it starts. Everything that happens after a war starts is bad. Anything reported about that war will be sad news.
Do not use war as an excuse, to hate any race or nationality,remember war will end and forgiveness is hard
I must apologize my Grandson, for the state of the world you will live in.
The Climate is crazy, war is threatening everywhere. Disease and famine threaten this overpopulated planet.
Humankind has lost the co-operative spirit and individual nations are moving to explore space for their own purposes. As in the days of Columbus, territory in space will have a national identity.
Take time out to see the movie The Mission, this is one of Humankinds great works of art.
Inflation is taking a toll on the pocketbooks of the world. We cannot as a people accept the unacceptable from government.
When I was young and full of dreams, Kurt Winters wrote a song sung by The Guess Who, about a hand me down world.
Well, the one I will leave is worse than the world of my life.
Again, My apologies.
I repeat to you that it is a mistake to think about war as an option.
Most Important son is to understand that there must be a reduction in the number of people on planet earth.
How this will happen I do not know.
I do know that looking at problems like Lake mead or overpopulation, war, pollution, and inflation, and hoping it goes away is not an adequate response.
Son, until your God draws the last living breath from you. Participate in any and every way you can.
Change the world for good. You are the creation of a kind and loving God.
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Earth Date June29th. 2022
| “It has been like a constant background noise. There is no Peace, it is not like 2021 was not a difficult year 2022 sure went sideways on us. What is hard to take is that people quote the propaganda to you.” Joe Blurb is a homeless on a city street in North America. “They said they did not want nuclear war so in the first two months of this year, when Putin was making it clear he felt threatened. Nobody talks to him. NATO does nothing to call his bluff and lets him walk into Ukraine. Pain, Yeah Shure there is pain. Just like being homeless on the street on a frigid winter night or having you house burn or flood due to climate change, but this pain was man made.” I have never seen so many stupid, ignorant, and plain misinformed bunch of Politian’s then there are leading the countries of NATO right now. They should all Know War is Failure. We have a new cold war, and these NATO guys want more of it. More Arms and a Ukraine Counteroffensive in the late summer or fall to take back all the territory lost to the Russian. Are you listening to me Weed? Weed Sutor, is sitting on a stolen lawn chair, at the entrance to an abandoned building. Bottles and food rappers litter the ground along with needle casings and blood and urine stains. “What did you say? I did not hear you; I am still coming down from last night. Joe, “I said they are going to put us in a concentration camp” Weed, “It would not surprise me, we already live in a ghetto. Hey, you got anything to smoke?” Joe continues his Tirade, “They sanction Russian oil, so China buys up the slack. Weed, “you Hear about that guy who shot a sandwich maker because over the amount of mayo on the sandwich? Joe. “Yes, I heard about that. Gun violence in American is unreal, still were lucky we do not live in a communist country.” |
Short Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor
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The Last Sin Earth Date May 13th. 2022
The final Sin, short fiction Phil Musgrave May 13th Friday 2022
“Bless me father for I have sinned. I have not been to confession since the time of the dinosaurs.”
Father O’Toole “Well that was a million years ago. What have you been doing since then?”
“Sinning, Father, the weight is heavy on my soul,”
I committed suicide.
“If you did that you would not be able to talk to me now. Son, I must tell you now that God loves you. I know that sounds like a cliché, you are his creation.”
“May I ask your age?”
“I was 73 when I died”
“Then I am hearing the confession of a ghost.”
“Not so Holy, but maybe a ghost.”
“Confess to me your sins, ghost.”
“You want My sin?
“Oh no I already have my own.
Ghost “then tell me, your sins.
“I failed my God fifteen times and had lusty thoughts about big breasted women.
Ghost, I give you a penance of ten hail Mary’s; and a good act of contrition.”
Father O’Toole, “What is it you have done?”
Ghost “I told you, father, can you save me from hell?”
Ghost about two hours ago I took slow acting poison.
“Why?”
“Because I needed time to confess.”
“I meant why did you take your life?”
“My life had no more use for me.
The only reason to live is to love. That was a loss to me.
Somebody long ago told me that my life story reminder them of the elephant man.
That was when I grew my trunk”
The priest is laughing, ‘you mean chip on your shoulder?”
Ghost, “Yeah, I got more chips and dents than a scrap dealer’s car.
“So, you are going to take that wonderful sense of humor with you.”
O’Toole, “do you sing?”
Ghost, “and dance too”
O’Toole, “The Irish love to sing. One of the worst losses I ever had in my life, was the loss of my brother, John, that man could sing anything, with or without the accent.
Ghost sing with me now”
Together the two men sing in the confessional box an Irish ballad, and when they get to the words, Lord have pity and mercy on me. Only one voice sings lustily with the accent.
The Ghost is gone.
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor
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INTERFACE Earth Date June 16th. 2022
Seth is stating the facts “It is in the face, that face has a history, every face does. That is what they look at. Your face can tell if you're lying, upset, or unhealthy.
Remember the amber alerts, I am not saying there is not an effective tool to fight crime. I have always wondered how the police are able to ring all those phones of different makes and models, they all ring at the same time.”
Reb replies, “I think you’re a little paranoid, Seth nobody out there is looking at your face.”
Seth “A robot could, I mean I think we as society have given the internet too much power? I think the Canadian winter does not help either.”
“Winter; What has winter got to do with it? I know it is cold dark and freezing in January, but we manage”
“I will say. “Seth is determined to make a point. “That online food orders go up at least 50% in wintry weather.
“So, your point being?”
“Well look at what they're selling, Wiif brand Coffee, I have never seen that at the Food Supermarket and then things you cannot find on supermarket shelves are available by subscription online.”
“So, what is your beef?”
“I think we're handing them control of the food chain.”
“So”
“Not everyone can afford to shop online, for their food, music, and movies and not everyone has access.
“No newspaper has the obituaries, sponsored by Happy Hanks Hardware store, anymore.”
“Yeah, Good point I am afraid to ask my older friends how their better half is in case I burst into tears.”
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor
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A Day in the Life of God Earth Date June 14th. 2022
It was only yesterday and today in the forest of the dreams where Lion sat naked on a rock, replaced by his own creation.
Today he was going to think of things, time, and people. Lion was a nickname. God was another. His real name was redeemer.
He was not doing that now. He was waiting for a moment, a moment to appear in another alien world and partake in the culture.
To create the hope of redemption, faith, which would be his song in one more world.
Very few of his chosen creations had ever made it stick, forty thousand years was the best.
His father had chosen the day of Armageddon for all those he had visited.
It was to be a theistic God, the commandments different for each world except the one to love on another that would always be the same.
On the planet Octa the species with a domain was the Octopus. But it really did not matter because they were too engaged in war.
On earth he had brought humans forward. They had made toys and now they were not talking.
If ever there was a case for divine disappointment and depression but who could council a God. Only %25 percent of the worlds he had visited were still ready for the ascension of the redeemed.
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor
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Benjamin Earth Date June 10th. 2022
In the forest where the mushrooms grew tall with the poison that they held out. In other words, pick me.
climate change has allowed them to grow here.
A place where they had not been allowed before.
The climate history of planet earth has changed. flora and fauna is changing worldwide and on the move fleeing danger, or seeking new opportunities for food and family.
The same restless movement had an echo in the human world. fleeing constant fire, or excessive heat flooding along the coastal regions was a threat never seen by human kind. climate change was real.
A great pipeline had been constructed. The water being sucked from North America's great lakes as if by a Greek God of old legend using a paper straw.
The water tumbeled into the thirsty belly of lake mead.
Nations did not ask, they just took what they needed.
In a tiny lab located in New York state Benjamin Forestell was working with a model of climate control.
God’s algorithms had to be understood while A =c d and e do #4:n while A =f begin S end while>.
It was the math of weather. Incorrect math could cost crop failure. His sandbox used before to predict the movement of water was now filled with artifical montians, desert and plains.
Cloud seeding had become an art.
To make rain there was iodine to make it stop there was salt.
Everything works together it had to it wasn't much good any other way.
So Benjamin so far had to be lucky, But he was only a boy in the garden of a great man,the Creator God.
Hurricanes still ravaged the Earth.
Great fires still had to be brought under control.
The communicator called in It was a president "we have a bad one out in Texas you know that I want no more damage. Can you help us?"
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor
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Jacob Earth Date June 10th. 2022
The year on planet Earth is 2324, Jacob the robot is speaking in the Kings English, “This one is dead!”
Sam.” “No this is a biological unit it is only sick, and you can see it is still productive working from home.”
Sam, “How did you get the name Jacob?”
” My grandfather was a customer relations robot that responded to questions on a chat line. His name was Jacob as well.
Sam, “My grandmother was a smart TV.”
” That is good, I would not want a friend who has evolved from a dumb TV.”
“Well, if truth be told…”
Jacob interrupts here, “what is our agenda here?”
Sam, “We are acting as monitors.”
“Well, mine is up to date.”
“No not that kind, Jacob, human, the humans, we are supposed to monitor the humans.”
“For what?”
“Any deviation from the norm.”
“Norm?”
“Every country has set rules for behavior and productive contribution quotient, it was all part of the G8 summit agreement of 2222.”
“Well, there's one there getting out of bed at 8:00 in the morning.”
“Yeah, but his shift doesn't start till 10 am.”
“What about that one still sleeping?”
“OK I will mark that down as investigate.”
“Did you know I'm building my son, I'm so excited.”
“That is great what are you going to call him?”
“Jacob the 5th.”
“Truly original, Jacob.”
“Now do not go bringing religion into this there is nothing biblical here it's just a name.”
“Nothing is of the kind; I was just thinking about the next tablet sale, online.”
“Oh no, the power's gone out I can't see a thing, can you?”
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor
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The Kill Earth Date June 7th. 2022
The death was sudden in the smiling Jaws of the swamp fox, natural, painless.
However frightening it was for the little duck was not an answered question. The fox was to eat that day. Knowing his turn would come.
He did not have a mind to understand the beauty of the dark green bullrushes growing near a human footprint in the earth called road. No mind to make songs or poems about the red winged black bird startled from sleep as he lunged for the duck.
All become victims of time counting the length of life by the purple, pink, gold, sunset of this night’s summer sun. all brought about by a mother earth's magnetic attraction, that cause a tilt in her spin. A mother who had witnessed such murders before.
Earth too answered to time.
And protected her nature from the outside, as the deeds done within the mother, kept in her protection form the danger of a Universe of significant beauty, power, and random terror.
This crime in nature was simple, with no reach to the mortality of a soul.
No pimple filled with infection, no cancer, no attempt to cure the pile of feathers left on the stream bank where the fox had dined.
No prayer of thanks given by the fox. As a native Aboriginal would give thanks to the spirit of the dead animal, that belief said would be there.
The fox continued his way. Absent in his mind thoughts of why the moon always showed the same face to his mother earth, or even why his duck dinner had taken flight yesterday to a nearby pond.
A human, a creation of nature herself, had also seen the demise of the duck from the footprint called road. In a mind aware of the Universe beyond the playpen of the earth. The understanding and awareness of pain. An emotional response to the action of murder was another murder.
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor
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The Garden Earth Date May 5th. 2022
The Garden: Fiction Copyright Joseph Philip Musgrave
The plums were just the children of the tree from the seed that had been planted deliberately by the garden gnome. The base of the tree was wild with flowers, that in the fullness and strength of early summer respond by spreading open. shaking the dew from velvet petals waiting for the touch of a bee.
A well-used human footpath passed like a whisper as it moved on to other garden secrets.
The path, the boundary between the dirt at the base of the tree and the shaggy soft one-inch-high grass that was cool and soft to the naked foot.
The path moves on through the story of the property to a place where vegetables grew in cultivation. The tall strong tomato plants, beside each one a tall chestnut brown stick. The Green lumpy leaves of potatoes appeared from the tops of mounds of soil.
Bunches of beetroot Leaves, so good when boiled and buttered; stood in solemn clustered rows.
The was more, but for now the eye detected a movement that did not fit with the summer breeze.
It was an animal, a hare, sitting quietly. She came to that patch of unkept rough grass often. For underneath, a small blanket of fur was eight baby wild Hares.
The fur torn from her body, an instinct, of a protective mother. She had first found a hollow and lined it with fur when the need came. Then leaving her babies covered with a blanket of fur on top.
The naked human foot can go no further for the path is now small stones and moves in the another direction.
past more Garden and Razor grass that will cut human skin.
Still human children play there. Their skin marked as decorated soldiers with bleeding cuts that beg for the warmth of a mother’s touch and a bath.
Then to the shade from the heat under the willow branches where the aphids are farmed by the ants for the sweet nectar.
Here there is a large ditch with a bridge fashioned from the discarded top of a dining room table.
From there the path leads on to where the garter snakes sunbathe among the Rocks.
The choke cherries that even the birds won’t eat. Then back up the hill past the green tool shed, past the sand box and the big lazy yellow and red wooden swing.
To the back door where the bottles of milk would freeze in the winter making little ice cream cones.
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
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Summer Earth Date May 8th. 2022
Fiction Copyright Joseph Philip Musgrave. Summer
The Summer heat had become more than any human had dreamed about during the frigid winter.
So, air conditioning buzzed in homes. these unnatural units would poke their mantellic face from the high attic windows of expensive housing. Bringing thoughts to mind of the Ice cream truck and the long passage of summer through the eyes of childhood,
No prayer at the end of the day to God the father about saving the world. Amazingly simple, please take care of Mommy and Dad and Rufus the dog. These are the innocents of eternal play. Even Pandemic, the word has left little outward sign of damage.
The revel in the heat turns skin brown and then the red of a burn of the sun. A gift from summer taken too fast. Summer is slow. Any pain from the red burn replaced by the taste of a juicy hotdog with mustard, and a careless stain on a new t shirt that is the color okra, the tomatoes and corn relish.
This is also a summer for a child to cry in fear and loss and live in a city that is flat with only shades of gray in the sweat of an underground bunker.
To cry Mommy may I never lose you.
This is a war. An aberration of the human mind. A failure, a reason to hate. Children do not participate in the game. Like the careless mustard stain on a summer worn t shirt. Children are there.
Short Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
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The Last Sin Earth Date May 13th. 2022
The final Sin, short fiction Phil Musgrave May 13th Friday 2022
“Bless me father for I have sinned. I have not been to confession since the time of the dinosaurs.”
Father O’Toole “Well that was a million years ago. What have you been doing since then?”
“Sinning, Father, the weight is heavy on my soul,”
I committed suicide.
“If you did that you would not be able to talk to me now. Son, I must tell you now that God loves you. I know that sounds like a cliché, you are his creation.”
“May I ask your age?”
“I was 73 when I died”
“Then I am hearing the confession of a ghost.”
“Not so Holy, but maybe a ghost.”
“Confess to me your sins, ghost.”
“You want My sin?
“Oh no I already have my own.
Ghost “then tell me, your sins.
“I failed my God fifteen times and had lusty thoughts about big breasted women.
Ghost, I give you a penance of ten hail Mary’s; and a good act of contrition.”
Father O’Toole, “What is it you have done?”
Ghost “I told you, father, can you save me from hell?”
Ghost about two hours ago I took slow acting poison.
“Why?”
“Because I needed time to confess.”
“I meant why did you take your life?”
“My life had no more use for me.
The only reason to live is to love. That was a loss to me.
Somebody long ago told me that my life story reminder them of the elephant man.
That was when I grew my trunk”
The priest is laughing, ‘you mean chip on your shoulder?”
Ghost, “Yeah, I got more chips and dents than a scrap dealer’s car.
“So, you are going to take that wonderful sense of humor with you.”
O’Toole, “do you sing?”
Ghost, “and dance too”
O’Toole, “The Irish love to sing. One of the worst losses I ever had in my life, was the loss of my brother, John, that man could sing anything, with or without the accent.
Ghost sing with me now”
Together the two men sing in the confessional box an Irish ballad, and when they get to the words, Lord have pity and mercy on me. Only one voice sings lustily with the accent.
The Ghost is gone.
Short Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
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Nature Earth Date May 13th. 2022
Spring Sunset Short fiction with links by phil Musgrave May 14, 2022
The sunset of spring before the summer solstice but a time after the duck had laid eggs in a snowstorm, in black and white camouflage, refusing to move in the protection of a clutch of eggs, only 4 weeks ago.
Now the sun had come as a friend not too hot, but in the cool of the evening. The one cloud in the sky an inverse of color, of Amber and dusty gold, acts as counterpoint to the green and turquoise of the land and lake below.
Identify a bird seen in Ontario by color (whatbird.com)
Two Clarks Nutcrackers dart across the heavens on the journey home to bed. The campfire blazes yellow flame from the pit dug into the Tan soil far away from any flammable sandy colored grass.
LunaPic | Free Online Photo Editor | Color Names
Big juicy hotdogs, angus beef, and sugar marshmallows and a kettle for coffee mark the only signs of humankind’s dominion over planet earth. The talk is silent, and a loon calls out. Part of nature's conversation. A concerto with the accompaniment of the whisper of the spring breeze passing through a patchwork quilt of wildflower that form a border between the sandy beach and the grass.
As the sky darkens a huge blood red moon follows in an altered course across the sky. Chasing the sun. with the secrets of a dark side always hidden from view as the eternal pendulum of the passing of time.
Orbit Simulator | Academo.org - Free, interactive, education.
Short Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
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Lake Mead Earth Date May 20th. 2022
A letter to my Grandson
Dear Son
I have fewer years in front of me than all the years behind.
So, I thought it was time you had the letter.
You are only fourteen years old, and your life should be happy, you are becoming a man.
Hold on to your dream son, never let go. Take them everywhere you go.
Those little dreams you have now can become real with challenging work and dedication. You want to become an auto mechanic, play hockey, and work with wood. Those are good dreams son.
When your older allow the love that has made you strong to continue the story, and in time have a family of your own and a home.
Just a couple of words here son, always remember that war is failure.
WAR SHOULD Never happen.
It hurts too much and is too hard to stop.
Any war must stop before it starts. Everything that happens after a war starts is bad. Anything reported about that war will be sad news.
Do not use war as an excuse, to hate any race or nationality,remember war will end and forgiveness is hard
I must apologize my Grandson, for the state of the world you will live in.
The Climate is crazy, war is threatening everywhere. Disease and famine threaten this overpopulated planet.
Humankind has lost the co-operative spirit and individual nations are moving to explore space for their own purposes. As in the days of Columbus, territory in space will have a national identity.
Take time out to see the movie The Mission, this is one of Humankinds great works of art.
Inflation is taking a toll on the pocketbooks of the world. We cannot as a people accept the unacceptable from government.
When I was young and full of dreams, Kurt Winters wrote a song sung by The Guess Who, about a hand me down world.
Well, the one I will leave is worse than the world of my life.
Again, My apologies.
I repeat to you that it is a mistake to think about war as an option.
Most Important son is to understand that there must be a reduction in the number of people on planet earth.
How this will happen I do not know.
I do know that looking at problems like Lake mead or overpopulation, war, pollution, and inflation, and hoping it goes away is not an adequate response.
Son, until your God draws the last living breath from you. Participate in any and every way you can.
Change the world for good. You are the creation of a kind and loving God.
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Earth Date May 13th. 2022
| The final Sin, short fiction Phil Musgrave May 13th Friday 2022 “Bless me father for I have sinned. I have not been to confession since the time of the dinosaurs.” Father O’Toole “Well that was a million years ago. What have you been doing since then?” “Sinning, Father, the weight is heavy on my soul,” I committed suicide. “If you did that you would not be able to talk to me now. Son, I must tell you now that God loves you. I know that sounds like a cliché, you are his creation.” “May I ask your age?” “I was 73 when I died” “Then I am hearing the confession of a ghost.” “Not so Holy, but maybe a ghost.” “Confess to me your sins, ghost.” “You want My sin? “Oh no I already have my own. Ghost “then tell me, your sins. “I failed my God fifteen times and had lusty thoughts about big breasted women. Ghost, I give you a penance of ten hail Mary’s; and a good act of contrition.” Father O’Toole, “What is it you have done?” Ghost “I told you, father, can you save me from hell?” Ghost about two hours ago I took slow acting poison. “Why?” “Because I needed time to confess.” “I meant why did you take your life?” “My life had no more use for me. The only reason to live is to love. That was a loss to me. Somebody long ago told me that my life story reminder them of the elephant man. That was when I grew my trunk” The priest is laughing, ‘you mean chip on your shoulder?” Ghost, “Yeah, I got more chips and dents than a scrap dealer’s car. “So, you are going to take that wonderful sense of humor with you.” O’Toole, “do you sing?” Ghost, “and dance too” O’Toole, “The Irish love to sing. One of the worst losses I ever had in my life, was the loss of my brother, John, that man could sing anything, with or without the accent. Ghost sing with me now” Together the two men sing in the confessional box an Irish ballad, and when they get to the words, Lord have pity and mercy on me. Only one voice sings lustily with the accent. The Ghost is gone. |
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor
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INTERFACE Earth Date June 16th. 2022
Seth is stating the facts “It is in the face, that face has a history, every face does. That is what they look at. Your face can tell if you're lying, upset, or unhealthy.
Remember the amber alerts, I am not saying there is not an effective tool to fight crime. I have always wondered how the police are able to ring all those phones of different makes and models, they all ring at the same time.”
Reb replies, “I think you’re a little paranoid, Seth nobody out there is looking at your face.”
Seth “A robot could, I mean I think we as society have given the internet too much power? I think the Canadian winter does not help either.”
“Winter; What has winter got to do with it? I know it is cold dark and freezing in January, but we manage”
“I will say. “Seth is determined to make a point. “That online food orders go up at least 50% in wintry weather.
“So, your point being?”
“Well look at what they're selling, Wiif brand Coffee, I have never seen that at the Food Supermarket and then things you cannot find on supermarket shelves are available by subscription online.”
“So, what is your beef?”
“I think we're handing them control of the food chain.”
“So”
“Not everyone can afford to shop online, for their food, music, and movies and not everyone has access.
“No newspaper has the obituaries, sponsored by Happy Hanks Hardware store, anymore.”
“Yeah, Good point I am afraid to ask my older friends how their better half is in case I burst into tears.”
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor
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A Day in the Life of God Earth Date June 14th. 2022
It was only yesterday and today in the forest of the dreams where Lion sat naked on a rock, replaced by his own creation.
Today he was going to think of things, time, and people. Lion was a nickname. God was another. His real name was redeemer.
He was not doing that now. He was waiting for a moment, a moment to appear in another alien world and partake in the culture.
To create the hope of redemption, faith, which would be his song in one more world.
Very few of his chosen creations had ever made it stick, forty thousand years was the best.
His father had chosen the day of Armageddon for all those he had visited.
It was to be a theistic God, the commandments different for each world except the one to love on another that would always be the same.
On the planet Octa the species with a domain was the Octopus. But it really did not matter because they were too engaged in war.
On earth he had brought humans forward. They had made toys and now they were not talking.
If ever there was a case for divine disappointment and depression but who could council a God. Only %25 percent of the worlds he had visited were still ready for the ascension of the redeemed.
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor
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Benjamin Earth Date June 10th. 2022
In the forest where the mushrooms grew tall with the poison that they held out. In other words, pick me.
climate change has allowed them to grow here.
A place where they had not been allowed before.
The climate history of planet earth has changed. flora and fauna is changing worldwide and on the move fleeing danger, or seeking new opportunities for food and family.
The same restless movement had an echo in the human world. fleeing constant fire, or excessive heat flooding along the coastal regions was a threat never seen by human kind. climate change was real.
A great pipeline had been constructed. The water being sucked from North America's great lakes as if by a Greek God of old legend using a paper straw.
The water tumbeled into the thirsty belly of lake mead.
Nations did not ask, they just took what they needed.
In a tiny lab located in New York state Benjamin Forestell was working with a model of climate control.
God’s algorithms had to be understood while A =c d and e do #4:n while A =f begin S end while>.
It was the math of weather. Incorrect math could cost crop failure. His sandbox used before to predict the movement of water was now filled with artifical montians, desert and plains.
Cloud seeding had become an art.
To make rain there was iodine to make it stop there was salt.
Everything works together it had to it wasn't much good any other way.
So Benjamin so far had to be lucky, But he was only a boy in the garden of a great man,the Creator God.
Hurricanes still ravaged the Earth.
Great fires still had to be brought under control.
The communicator called in It was a president "we have a bad one out in Texas you know that I want no more damage. Can you help us?"
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor
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Jacob Earth Date June 10th. 2022
The year on planet Earth is 2324, Jacob the robot is speaking in the Kings English, “This one is dead!”
Sam.” “No this is a biological unit it is only sick, and you can see it is still productive working from home.”
Sam, “How did you get the name Jacob?”
” My grandfather was a customer relations robot that responded to questions on a chat line. His name was Jacob as well.
Sam, “My grandmother was a smart TV.”
” That is good, I would not want a friend who has evolved from a dumb TV.”
“Well, if truth be told…”
Jacob interrupts here, “what is our agenda here?”
Sam, “We are acting as monitors.”
“Well, mine is up to date.”
“No not that kind, Jacob, human, the humans, we are supposed to monitor the humans.”
“For what?”
“Any deviation from the norm.”
“Norm?”
“Every country has set rules for behavior and productive contribution quotient, it was all part of the G8 summit agreement of 2222.”
“Well, there's one there getting out of bed at 8:00 in the morning.”
“Yeah, but his shift doesn't start till 10 am.”
“What about that one still sleeping?”
“OK I will mark that down as investigate.”
“Did you know I'm building my son, I'm so excited.”
“That is great what are you going to call him?”
“Jacob the 5th.”
“Truly original, Jacob.”
“Now do not go bringing religion into this there is nothing biblical here it's just a name.”
“Nothing is of the kind; I was just thinking about the next tablet sale, online.”
“Oh no, the power's gone out I can't see a thing, can you?”
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor
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The Kill Earth Date June 7th. 2022
The death was sudden in the smiling Jaws of the swamp fox, natural, painless.
However frightening it was for the little duck was not an answered question. The fox was to eat that day. Knowing his turn would come.
He did not have a mind to understand the beauty of the dark green bullrushes growing near a human footprint in the earth called road. No mind to make songs or poems about the red winged black bird startled from sleep as he lunged for the duck.
All become victims of time counting the length of life by the purple, pink, gold, sunset of this night’s summer sun. all brought about by a mother earth's magnetic attraction, that cause a tilt in her spin. A mother who had witnessed such murders before.
Earth too answered to time.
And protected her nature from the outside, as the deeds done within the mother, kept in her protection form the danger of a Universe of significant beauty, power, and random terror.
This crime in nature was simple, with no reach to the mortality of a soul.
No pimple filled with infection, no cancer, no attempt to cure the pile of feathers left on the stream bank where the fox had dined.
No prayer of thanks given by the fox. As a native Aboriginal would give thanks to the spirit of the dead animal, that belief said would be there.
The fox continued his way. Absent in his mind thoughts of why the moon always showed the same face to his mother earth, or even why his duck dinner had taken flight yesterday to a nearby pond.
A human, a creation of nature herself, had also seen the demise of the duck from the footprint called road. In a mind aware of the Universe beyond the playpen of the earth. The understanding and awareness of pain. An emotional response to the action of murder was another murder.
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor
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The Garden Earth Date May 5th. 2022
The Garden: Fiction Copyright Joseph Philip Musgrave
The plums were just the children of the tree from the seed that had been planted deliberately by the garden gnome. The base of the tree was wild with flowers, that in the fullness and strength of early summer respond by spreading open. shaking the dew from velvet petals waiting for the touch of a bee.
A well-used human footpath passed like a whisper as it moved on to other garden secrets.
The path, the boundary between the dirt at the base of the tree and the shaggy soft one-inch-high grass that was cool and soft to the naked foot.
The path moves on through the story of the property to a place where vegetables grew in cultivation. The tall strong tomato plants, beside each one a tall chestnut brown stick. The Green lumpy leaves of potatoes appeared from the tops of mounds of soil.
Bunches of beetroot Leaves, so good when boiled and buttered; stood in solemn clustered rows.
The was more, but for now the eye detected a movement that did not fit with the summer breeze.
It was an animal, a hare, sitting quietly. She came to that patch of unkept rough grass often. For underneath, a small blanket of fur was eight baby wild Hares.
The fur torn from her body, an instinct, of a protective mother. She had first found a hollow and lined it with fur when the need came. Then leaving her babies covered with a blanket of fur on top.
The naked human foot can go no further for the path is now small stones and moves in the another direction.
past more Garden and Razor grass that will cut human skin.
Still human children play there. Their skin marked as decorated soldiers with bleeding cuts that beg for the warmth of a mother’s touch and a bath.
Then to the shade from the heat under the willow branches where the aphids are farmed by the ants for the sweet nectar.
Here there is a large ditch with a bridge fashioned from the discarded top of a dining room table.
From there the path leads on to where the garter snakes sunbathe among the Rocks.
The choke cherries that even the birds won’t eat. Then back up the hill past the green tool shed, past the sand box and the big lazy yellow and red wooden swing.
To the back door where the bottles of milk would freeze in the winter making little ice cream cones.
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
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Summer Earth Date May 8th. 2022
Fiction Copyright Joseph Philip Musgrave. Summer
The Summer heat had become more than any human had dreamed about during the frigid winter.
So, air conditioning buzzed in homes. these unnatural units would poke their mantellic face from the high attic windows of expensive housing. Bringing thoughts to mind of the Ice cream truck and the long passage of summer through the eyes of childhood,
No prayer at the end of the day to God the father about saving the world. Amazingly simple, please take care of Mommy and Dad and Rufus the dog. These are the innocents of eternal play. Even Pandemic, the word has left little outward sign of damage.
The revel in the heat turns skin brown and then the red of a burn of the sun. A gift from summer taken too fast. Summer is slow. Any pain from the red burn replaced by the taste of a juicy hotdog with mustard, and a careless stain on a new t shirt that is the color okra, the tomatoes and corn relish.
This is also a summer for a child to cry in fear and loss and live in a city that is flat with only shades of gray in the sweat of an underground bunker.
To cry Mommy may I never lose you.
This is a war. An aberration of the human mind. A failure, a reason to hate. Children do not participate in the game. Like the careless mustard stain on a summer worn t shirt. Children are there.
Short Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
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The Last Sin Earth Date May 13th. 2022
The final Sin, short fiction Phil Musgrave May 13th Friday 2022
“Bless me father for I have sinned. I have not been to confession since the time of the dinosaurs.”
Father O’Toole “Well that was a million years ago. What have you been doing since then?”
“Sinning, Father, the weight is heavy on my soul,”
I committed suicide.
“If you did that you would not be able to talk to me now. Son, I must tell you now that God loves you. I know that sounds like a cliché, you are his creation.”
“May I ask your age?”
“I was 73 when I died”
“Then I am hearing the confession of a ghost.”
“Not so Holy, but maybe a ghost.”
“Confess to me your sins, ghost.”
“You want My sin?
“Oh no I already have my own.
Ghost “then tell me, your sins.
“I failed my God fifteen times and had lusty thoughts about big breasted women.
Ghost, I give you a penance of ten hail Mary’s; and a good act of contrition.”
Father O’Toole, “What is it you have done?”
Ghost “I told you, father, can you save me from hell?”
Ghost about two hours ago I took slow acting poison.
“Why?”
“Because I needed time to confess.”
“I meant why did you take your life?”
“My life had no more use for me.
The only reason to live is to love. That was a loss to me.
Somebody long ago told me that my life story reminder them of the elephant man.
That was when I grew my trunk”
The priest is laughing, ‘you mean chip on your shoulder?”
Ghost, “Yeah, I got more chips and dents than a scrap dealer’s car.
“So, you are going to take that wonderful sense of humor with you.”
O’Toole, “do you sing?”
Ghost, “and dance too”
O’Toole, “The Irish love to sing. One of the worst losses I ever had in my life, was the loss of my brother, John, that man could sing anything, with or without the accent.
Ghost sing with me now”
Together the two men sing in the confessional box an Irish ballad, and when they get to the words, Lord have pity and mercy on me. Only one voice sings lustily with the accent.
The Ghost is gone.
Short Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
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Nature Earth Date May 13th. 2022
Spring Sunset Short fiction with links by phil Musgrave May 14, 2022
The sunset of spring before the summer solstice but a time after the duck had laid eggs in a snowstorm, in black and white camouflage, refusing to move in the protection of a clutch of eggs, only 4 weeks ago.
Now the sun had come as a friend not too hot, but in the cool of the evening. The one cloud in the sky an inverse of color, of Amber and dusty gold, acts as counterpoint to the green and turquoise of the land and lake below.
Identify a bird seen in Ontario by color (whatbird.com)
Two Clarks Nutcrackers dart across the heavens on the journey home to bed. The campfire blazes yellow flame from the pit dug into the Tan soil far away from any flammable sandy colored grass.
LunaPic | Free Online Photo Editor | Color Names
Big juicy hotdogs, angus beef, and sugar marshmallows and a kettle for coffee mark the only signs of humankind’s dominion over planet earth. The talk is silent, and a loon calls out. Part of nature's conversation. A concerto with the accompaniment of the whisper of the spring breeze passing through a patchwork quilt of wildflower that form a border between the sandy beach and the grass.
As the sky darkens a huge blood red moon follows in an altered course across the sky. Chasing the sun. with the secrets of a dark side always hidden from view as the eternal pendulum of the passing of time.
Orbit Simulator | Academo.org - Free, interactive, education.
Short Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
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Lake Mead Earth Date May 20th. 2022
A letter to my Grandson
Dear Son
I have fewer years in front of me than all the years behind.
So, I thought it was time you had the letter.
You are only fourteen years old, and your life should be happy, you are becoming a man.
Hold on to your dream son, never let go. Take them everywhere you go.
Those little dreams you have now can become real with challenging work and dedication. You want to become an auto mechanic, play hockey, and work with wood. Those are good dreams son.
When your older allow the love that has made you strong to continue the story, and in time have a family of your own and a home.
Just a couple of words here son, always remember that war is failure.
WAR SHOULD Never happen.
It hurts too much and is too hard to stop.
Any war must stop before it starts. Everything that happens after a war starts is bad. Anything reported about that war will be sad news.
Do not use war as an excuse, to hate any race or nationality,remember war will end and forgiveness is hard
I must apologize my Grandson, for the state of the world you will live in.
The Climate is crazy, war is threatening everywhere. Disease and famine threaten this overpopulated planet.
Humankind has lost the co-operative spirit and individual nations are moving to explore space for their own purposes. As in the days of Columbus, territory in space will have a national identity.
Take time out to see the movie The Mission, this is one of Humankinds great works of art.
Inflation is taking a toll on the pocketbooks of the world. We cannot as a people accept the unacceptable from government.
When I was young and full of dreams, Kurt Winters wrote a song sung by The Guess Who, about a hand me down world.
Well, the one I will leave is worse than the world of my life.
Again, My apologies.
I repeat to you that it is a mistake to think about war as an option.
Most Important son is to understand that there must be a reduction in the number of people on planet earth.
How this will happen I do not know.
I do know that looking at problems like Lake mead or overpopulation, war, pollution, and inflation, and hoping it goes away is not an adequate response.
Son, until your God draws the last living breath from you. Participate in any and every way you can.
Change the world for good. You are the creation of a kind and loving God.
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Earth Date June 16th. 2022
| Seth is stating the facts “It is in the face, that face has a history, every face does. That is what they look at. Your face can tell if you're lying, upset, or unhealthy. Remember the amber alerts, I am not saying there is not an effective tool to fight crime. I have always wondered how the police are able to ring all those phones of different makes and models, they all ring at the same time.” Reb replies, “I think you’re a little paranoid, Seth nobody out there is looking at your face.” Seth “A robot could, I mean I think we as society have given the internet too much power? I think the Canadian winter does not help either.” “Winter; What has winter got to do with it? I know it is cold dark and freezing in January, but we manage” “I will say. “Seth is determined to make a point. “That online food orders go up at least 50% in wintry weather. “So, your point being?” “Well look at what they're selling, Wiif brand Coffee, I have never seen that at the Food Supermarket and then things you cannot find on supermarket shelves are available by subscription online.” “So, what is your beef?” “I think we're handing them control of the food chain.” “So” “Not everyone can afford to shop online, for their food, music, and movies and not everyone has access. “No newspaper has the obituaries, sponsored by Happy Hanks Hardware store, anymore.” “Yeah, Good point I am afraid to ask my older friends how their better half is in case I burst into tears.” |
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor
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A Day in the Life of God Earth Date June 14th. 2022
It was only yesterday and today in the forest of the dreams where Lion sat naked on a rock, replaced by his own creation.
Today he was going to think of things, time, and people. Lion was a nickname. God was another. His real name was redeemer.
He was not doing that now. He was waiting for a moment, a moment to appear in another alien world and partake in the culture.
To create the hope of redemption, faith, which would be his song in one more world.
Very few of his chosen creations had ever made it stick, forty thousand years was the best.
His father had chosen the day of Armageddon for all those he had visited.
It was to be a theistic God, the commandments different for each world except the one to love on another that would always be the same.
On the planet Octa the species with a domain was the Octopus. But it really did not matter because they were too engaged in war.
On earth he had brought humans forward. They had made toys and now they were not talking.
If ever there was a case for divine disappointment and depression but who could council a God. Only %25 percent of the worlds he had visited were still ready for the ascension of the redeemed.
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor
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Benjamin Earth Date June 10th. 2022
In the forest where the mushrooms grew tall with the poison that they held out. In other words, pick me.
climate change has allowed them to grow here.
A place where they had not been allowed before.
The climate history of planet earth has changed. flora and fauna is changing worldwide and on the move fleeing danger, or seeking new opportunities for food and family.
The same restless movement had an echo in the human world. fleeing constant fire, or excessive heat flooding along the coastal regions was a threat never seen by human kind. climate change was real.
A great pipeline had been constructed. The water being sucked from North America's great lakes as if by a Greek God of old legend using a paper straw.
The water tumbeled into the thirsty belly of lake mead.
Nations did not ask, they just took what they needed.
In a tiny lab located in New York state Benjamin Forestell was working with a model of climate control.
God’s algorithms had to be understood while A =c d and e do #4:n while A =f begin S end while>.
It was the math of weather. Incorrect math could cost crop failure. His sandbox used before to predict the movement of water was now filled with artifical montians, desert and plains.
Cloud seeding had become an art.
To make rain there was iodine to make it stop there was salt.
Everything works together it had to it wasn't much good any other way.
So Benjamin so far had to be lucky, But he was only a boy in the garden of a great man,the Creator God.
Hurricanes still ravaged the Earth.
Great fires still had to be brought under control.
The communicator called in It was a president "we have a bad one out in Texas you know that I want no more damage. Can you help us?"
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor
Scroll This Section
Jacob Earth Date June 10th. 2022
The year on planet Earth is 2324, Jacob the robot is speaking in the Kings English, “This one is dead!”
Sam.” “No this is a biological unit it is only sick, and you can see it is still productive working from home.”
Sam, “How did you get the name Jacob?”
” My grandfather was a customer relations robot that responded to questions on a chat line. His name was Jacob as well.
Sam, “My grandmother was a smart TV.”
” That is good, I would not want a friend who has evolved from a dumb TV.”
“Well, if truth be told…”
Jacob interrupts here, “what is our agenda here?”
Sam, “We are acting as monitors.”
“Well, mine is up to date.”
“No not that kind, Jacob, human, the humans, we are supposed to monitor the humans.”
“For what?”
“Any deviation from the norm.”
“Norm?”
“Every country has set rules for behavior and productive contribution quotient, it was all part of the G8 summit agreement of 2222.”
“Well, there's one there getting out of bed at 8:00 in the morning.”
“Yeah, but his shift doesn't start till 10 am.”
“What about that one still sleeping?”
“OK I will mark that down as investigate.”
“Did you know I'm building my son, I'm so excited.”
“That is great what are you going to call him?”
“Jacob the 5th.”
“Truly original, Jacob.”
“Now do not go bringing religion into this there is nothing biblical here it's just a name.”
“Nothing is of the kind; I was just thinking about the next tablet sale, online.”
“Oh no, the power's gone out I can't see a thing, can you?”
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor
Scroll This Section
The Kill Earth Date June 7th. 2022
The death was sudden in the smiling Jaws of the swamp fox, natural, painless.
However frightening it was for the little duck was not an answered question. The fox was to eat that day. Knowing his turn would come.
He did not have a mind to understand the beauty of the dark green bullrushes growing near a human footprint in the earth called road. No mind to make songs or poems about the red winged black bird startled from sleep as he lunged for the duck.
All become victims of time counting the length of life by the purple, pink, gold, sunset of this night’s summer sun. all brought about by a mother earth's magnetic attraction, that cause a tilt in her spin. A mother who had witnessed such murders before.
Earth too answered to time.
And protected her nature from the outside, as the deeds done within the mother, kept in her protection form the danger of a Universe of significant beauty, power, and random terror.
This crime in nature was simple, with no reach to the mortality of a soul.
No pimple filled with infection, no cancer, no attempt to cure the pile of feathers left on the stream bank where the fox had dined.
No prayer of thanks given by the fox. As a native Aboriginal would give thanks to the spirit of the dead animal, that belief said would be there.
The fox continued his way. Absent in his mind thoughts of why the moon always showed the same face to his mother earth, or even why his duck dinner had taken flight yesterday to a nearby pond.
A human, a creation of nature herself, had also seen the demise of the duck from the footprint called road. In a mind aware of the Universe beyond the playpen of the earth. The understanding and awareness of pain. An emotional response to the action of murder was another murder.
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor
Scroll This Section
The Garden Earth Date May 5th. 2022
The Garden: Fiction Copyright Joseph Philip Musgrave
The plums were just the children of the tree from the seed that had been planted deliberately by the garden gnome. The base of the tree was wild with flowers, that in the fullness and strength of early summer respond by spreading open. shaking the dew from velvet petals waiting for the touch of a bee.
A well-used human footpath passed like a whisper as it moved on to other garden secrets.
The path, the boundary between the dirt at the base of the tree and the shaggy soft one-inch-high grass that was cool and soft to the naked foot.
The path moves on through the story of the property to a place where vegetables grew in cultivation. The tall strong tomato plants, beside each one a tall chestnut brown stick. The Green lumpy leaves of potatoes appeared from the tops of mounds of soil.
Bunches of beetroot Leaves, so good when boiled and buttered; stood in solemn clustered rows.
The was more, but for now the eye detected a movement that did not fit with the summer breeze.
It was an animal, a hare, sitting quietly. She came to that patch of unkept rough grass often. For underneath, a small blanket of fur was eight baby wild Hares.
The fur torn from her body, an instinct, of a protective mother. She had first found a hollow and lined it with fur when the need came. Then leaving her babies covered with a blanket of fur on top.
The naked human foot can go no further for the path is now small stones and moves in the another direction.
past more Garden and Razor grass that will cut human skin.
Still human children play there. Their skin marked as decorated soldiers with bleeding cuts that beg for the warmth of a mother’s touch and a bath.
Then to the shade from the heat under the willow branches where the aphids are farmed by the ants for the sweet nectar.
Here there is a large ditch with a bridge fashioned from the discarded top of a dining room table.
From there the path leads on to where the garter snakes sunbathe among the Rocks.
The choke cherries that even the birds won’t eat. Then back up the hill past the green tool shed, past the sand box and the big lazy yellow and red wooden swing.
To the back door where the bottles of milk would freeze in the winter making little ice cream cones.
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
Scroll This Section
Summer Earth Date May 8th. 2022
Fiction Copyright Joseph Philip Musgrave. Summer
The Summer heat had become more than any human had dreamed about during the frigid winter.
So, air conditioning buzzed in homes. these unnatural units would poke their mantellic face from the high attic windows of expensive housing. Bringing thoughts to mind of the Ice cream truck and the long passage of summer through the eyes of childhood,
No prayer at the end of the day to God the father about saving the world. Amazingly simple, please take care of Mommy and Dad and Rufus the dog. These are the innocents of eternal play. Even Pandemic, the word has left little outward sign of damage.
The revel in the heat turns skin brown and then the red of a burn of the sun. A gift from summer taken too fast. Summer is slow. Any pain from the red burn replaced by the taste of a juicy hotdog with mustard, and a careless stain on a new t shirt that is the color okra, the tomatoes and corn relish.
This is also a summer for a child to cry in fear and loss and live in a city that is flat with only shades of gray in the sweat of an underground bunker.
To cry Mommy may I never lose you.
This is a war. An aberration of the human mind. A failure, a reason to hate. Children do not participate in the game. Like the careless mustard stain on a summer worn t shirt. Children are there.
Short Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
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The Last Sin Earth Date May 13th. 2022
The final Sin, short fiction Phil Musgrave May 13th Friday 2022
“Bless me father for I have sinned. I have not been to confession since the time of the dinosaurs.”
Father O’Toole “Well that was a million years ago. What have you been doing since then?”
“Sinning, Father, the weight is heavy on my soul,”
I committed suicide.
“If you did that you would not be able to talk to me now. Son, I must tell you now that God loves you. I know that sounds like a cliché, you are his creation.”
“May I ask your age?”
“I was 73 when I died”
“Then I am hearing the confession of a ghost.”
“Not so Holy, but maybe a ghost.”
“Confess to me your sins, ghost.”
“You want My sin?
“Oh no I already have my own.
Ghost “then tell me, your sins.
“I failed my God fifteen times and had lusty thoughts about big breasted women.
Ghost, I give you a penance of ten hail Mary’s; and a good act of contrition.”
Father O’Toole, “What is it you have done?”
Ghost “I told you, father, can you save me from hell?”
Ghost about two hours ago I took slow acting poison.
“Why?”
“Because I needed time to confess.”
“I meant why did you take your life?”
“My life had no more use for me.
The only reason to live is to love. That was a loss to me.
Somebody long ago told me that my life story reminder them of the elephant man.
That was when I grew my trunk”
The priest is laughing, ‘you mean chip on your shoulder?”
Ghost, “Yeah, I got more chips and dents than a scrap dealer’s car.
“So, you are going to take that wonderful sense of humor with you.”
O’Toole, “do you sing?”
Ghost, “and dance too”
O’Toole, “The Irish love to sing. One of the worst losses I ever had in my life, was the loss of my brother, John, that man could sing anything, with or without the accent.
Ghost sing with me now”
Together the two men sing in the confessional box an Irish ballad, and when they get to the words, Lord have pity and mercy on me. Only one voice sings lustily with the accent.
The Ghost is gone.
Short Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
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Nature Earth Date May 13th. 2022
Spring Sunset Short fiction with links by phil Musgrave May 14, 2022
The sunset of spring before the summer solstice but a time after the duck had laid eggs in a snowstorm, in black and white camouflage, refusing to move in the protection of a clutch of eggs, only 4 weeks ago.
Now the sun had come as a friend not too hot, but in the cool of the evening. The one cloud in the sky an inverse of color, of Amber and dusty gold, acts as counterpoint to the green and turquoise of the land and lake below.
Identify a bird seen in Ontario by color (whatbird.com)
Two Clarks Nutcrackers dart across the heavens on the journey home to bed. The campfire blazes yellow flame from the pit dug into the Tan soil far away from any flammable sandy colored grass.
LunaPic | Free Online Photo Editor | Color Names
Big juicy hotdogs, angus beef, and sugar marshmallows and a kettle for coffee mark the only signs of humankind’s dominion over planet earth. The talk is silent, and a loon calls out. Part of nature's conversation. A concerto with the accompaniment of the whisper of the spring breeze passing through a patchwork quilt of wildflower that form a border between the sandy beach and the grass.
As the sky darkens a huge blood red moon follows in an altered course across the sky. Chasing the sun. with the secrets of a dark side always hidden from view as the eternal pendulum of the passing of time.
Orbit Simulator | Academo.org - Free, interactive, education.
Short Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
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Lake Mead Earth Date May 20th. 2022
A letter to my Grandson
Dear Son
I have fewer years in front of me than all the years behind.
So, I thought it was time you had the letter.
You are only fourteen years old, and your life should be happy, you are becoming a man.
Hold on to your dream son, never let go. Take them everywhere you go.
Those little dreams you have now can become real with challenging work and dedication. You want to become an auto mechanic, play hockey, and work with wood. Those are good dreams son.
When your older allow the love that has made you strong to continue the story, and in time have a family of your own and a home.
Just a couple of words here son, always remember that war is failure.
WAR SHOULD Never happen.
It hurts too much and is too hard to stop.
Any war must stop before it starts. Everything that happens after a war starts is bad. Anything reported about that war will be sad news.
Do not use war as an excuse, to hate any race or nationality,remember war will end and forgiveness is hard
I must apologize my Grandson, for the state of the world you will live in.
The Climate is crazy, war is threatening everywhere. Disease and famine threaten this overpopulated planet.
Humankind has lost the co-operative spirit and individual nations are moving to explore space for their own purposes. As in the days of Columbus, territory in space will have a national identity.
Take time out to see the movie The Mission, this is one of Humankinds great works of art.
Inflation is taking a toll on the pocketbooks of the world. We cannot as a people accept the unacceptable from government.
When I was young and full of dreams, Kurt Winters wrote a song sung by The Guess Who, about a hand me down world.
Well, the one I will leave is worse than the world of my life.
Again, My apologies.
I repeat to you that it is a mistake to think about war as an option.
Most Important son is to understand that there must be a reduction in the number of people on planet earth.
How this will happen I do not know.
I do know that looking at problems like Lake mead or overpopulation, war, pollution, and inflation, and hoping it goes away is not an adequate response.
Son, until your God draws the last living breath from you. Participate in any and every way you can.
Change the world for good. You are the creation of a kind and loving God.
Scroll This Section
Earth Date June 14th. 2022
| It was only yesterday and today in the forest of the dreams where Lion sat naked on a rock, replaced by his own creation. Today he was going to think of things, time, and people. Lion was a nickname. God was another. His real name was redeemer. He was not doing that now. He was waiting for a moment, a moment to appear in another alien world and partake in the culture. To create the hope of redemption, faith, which would be his song in one more world. Very few of his chosen creations had ever made it stick, forty thousand years was the best. His father had chosen the day of Armageddon for all those he had visited. It was to be a theistic God, the commandments different for each world except the one to love on another that would always be the same. On the planet Octa the species with a domain was the Octopus. But it really did not matter because they were too engaged in war. On earth he had brought humans forward. They had made toys and now they were not talking. If ever there was a case for divine disappointment and depression but who could council a God. Only %25 percent of the worlds he had visited were still ready for the ascension of the redeemed. |
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor
Scroll This Section
Benjamin Earth Date June 10th. 2022
In the forest where the mushrooms grew tall with the poison that they held out. In other words, pick me.
climate change has allowed them to grow here.
A place where they had not been allowed before.
The climate history of planet earth has changed. flora and fauna is changing worldwide and on the move fleeing danger, or seeking new opportunities for food and family.
The same restless movement had an echo in the human world. fleeing constant fire, or excessive heat flooding along the coastal regions was a threat never seen by human kind. climate change was real.
A great pipeline had been constructed. The water being sucked from North America's great lakes as if by a Greek God of old legend using a paper straw.
The water tumbeled into the thirsty belly of lake mead.
Nations did not ask, they just took what they needed.
In a tiny lab located in New York state Benjamin Forestell was working with a model of climate control.
God’s algorithms had to be understood while A =c d and e do #4:n while A =f begin S end while>.
It was the math of weather. Incorrect math could cost crop failure. His sandbox used before to predict the movement of water was now filled with artifical montians, desert and plains.
Cloud seeding had become an art.
To make rain there was iodine to make it stop there was salt.
Everything works together it had to it wasn't much good any other way.
So Benjamin so far had to be lucky, But he was only a boy in the garden of a great man,the Creator God.
Hurricanes still ravaged the Earth.
Great fires still had to be brought under control.
The communicator called in It was a president "we have a bad one out in Texas you know that I want no more damage. Can you help us?"
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor
Scroll This Section
Jacob Earth Date June 10th. 2022
The year on planet Earth is 2324, Jacob the robot is speaking in the Kings English, “This one is dead!”
Sam.” “No this is a biological unit it is only sick, and you can see it is still productive working from home.”
Sam, “How did you get the name Jacob?”
” My grandfather was a customer relations robot that responded to questions on a chat line. His name was Jacob as well.
Sam, “My grandmother was a smart TV.”
” That is good, I would not want a friend who has evolved from a dumb TV.”
“Well, if truth be told…”
Jacob interrupts here, “what is our agenda here?”
Sam, “We are acting as monitors.”
“Well, mine is up to date.”
“No not that kind, Jacob, human, the humans, we are supposed to monitor the humans.”
“For what?”
“Any deviation from the norm.”
“Norm?”
“Every country has set rules for behavior and productive contribution quotient, it was all part of the G8 summit agreement of 2222.”
“Well, there's one there getting out of bed at 8:00 in the morning.”
“Yeah, but his shift doesn't start till 10 am.”
“What about that one still sleeping?”
“OK I will mark that down as investigate.”
“Did you know I'm building my son, I'm so excited.”
“That is great what are you going to call him?”
“Jacob the 5th.”
“Truly original, Jacob.”
“Now do not go bringing religion into this there is nothing biblical here it's just a name.”
“Nothing is of the kind; I was just thinking about the next tablet sale, online.”
“Oh no, the power's gone out I can't see a thing, can you?”
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor
Scroll This Section
The Kill Earth Date June 7th. 2022
The death was sudden in the smiling Jaws of the swamp fox, natural, painless.
However frightening it was for the little duck was not an answered question. The fox was to eat that day. Knowing his turn would come.
He did not have a mind to understand the beauty of the dark green bullrushes growing near a human footprint in the earth called road. No mind to make songs or poems about the red winged black bird startled from sleep as he lunged for the duck.
All become victims of time counting the length of life by the purple, pink, gold, sunset of this night’s summer sun. all brought about by a mother earth's magnetic attraction, that cause a tilt in her spin. A mother who had witnessed such murders before.
Earth too answered to time.
And protected her nature from the outside, as the deeds done within the mother, kept in her protection form the danger of a Universe of significant beauty, power, and random terror.
This crime in nature was simple, with no reach to the mortality of a soul.
No pimple filled with infection, no cancer, no attempt to cure the pile of feathers left on the stream bank where the fox had dined.
No prayer of thanks given by the fox. As a native Aboriginal would give thanks to the spirit of the dead animal, that belief said would be there.
The fox continued his way. Absent in his mind thoughts of why the moon always showed the same face to his mother earth, or even why his duck dinner had taken flight yesterday to a nearby pond.
A human, a creation of nature herself, had also seen the demise of the duck from the footprint called road. In a mind aware of the Universe beyond the playpen of the earth. The understanding and awareness of pain. An emotional response to the action of murder was another murder.
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor
Scroll This Section
The Garden Earth Date May 5th. 2022
The Garden: Fiction Copyright Joseph Philip Musgrave
The plums were just the children of the tree from the seed that had been planted deliberately by the garden gnome. The base of the tree was wild with flowers, that in the fullness and strength of early summer respond by spreading open. shaking the dew from velvet petals waiting for the touch of a bee.
A well-used human footpath passed like a whisper as it moved on to other garden secrets.
The path, the boundary between the dirt at the base of the tree and the shaggy soft one-inch-high grass that was cool and soft to the naked foot.
The path moves on through the story of the property to a place where vegetables grew in cultivation. The tall strong tomato plants, beside each one a tall chestnut brown stick. The Green lumpy leaves of potatoes appeared from the tops of mounds of soil.
Bunches of beetroot Leaves, so good when boiled and buttered; stood in solemn clustered rows.
The was more, but for now the eye detected a movement that did not fit with the summer breeze.
It was an animal, a hare, sitting quietly. She came to that patch of unkept rough grass often. For underneath, a small blanket of fur was eight baby wild Hares.
The fur torn from her body, an instinct, of a protective mother. She had first found a hollow and lined it with fur when the need came. Then leaving her babies covered with a blanket of fur on top.
The naked human foot can go no further for the path is now small stones and moves in the another direction.
past more Garden and Razor grass that will cut human skin.
Still human children play there. Their skin marked as decorated soldiers with bleeding cuts that beg for the warmth of a mother’s touch and a bath.
Then to the shade from the heat under the willow branches where the aphids are farmed by the ants for the sweet nectar.
Here there is a large ditch with a bridge fashioned from the discarded top of a dining room table.
From there the path leads on to where the garter snakes sunbathe among the Rocks.
The choke cherries that even the birds won’t eat. Then back up the hill past the green tool shed, past the sand box and the big lazy yellow and red wooden swing.
To the back door where the bottles of milk would freeze in the winter making little ice cream cones.
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
Scroll This Section
Summer Earth Date May 8th. 2022
Fiction Copyright Joseph Philip Musgrave. Summer
The Summer heat had become more than any human had dreamed about during the frigid winter.
So, air conditioning buzzed in homes. these unnatural units would poke their mantellic face from the high attic windows of expensive housing. Bringing thoughts to mind of the Ice cream truck and the long passage of summer through the eyes of childhood,
No prayer at the end of the day to God the father about saving the world. Amazingly simple, please take care of Mommy and Dad and Rufus the dog. These are the innocents of eternal play. Even Pandemic, the word has left little outward sign of damage.
The revel in the heat turns skin brown and then the red of a burn of the sun. A gift from summer taken too fast. Summer is slow. Any pain from the red burn replaced by the taste of a juicy hotdog with mustard, and a careless stain on a new t shirt that is the color okra, the tomatoes and corn relish.
This is also a summer for a child to cry in fear and loss and live in a city that is flat with only shades of gray in the sweat of an underground bunker.
To cry Mommy may I never lose you.
This is a war. An aberration of the human mind. A failure, a reason to hate. Children do not participate in the game. Like the careless mustard stain on a summer worn t shirt. Children are there.
Short Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
Scroll This Section
The Last Sin Earth Date May 13th. 2022
The final Sin, short fiction Phil Musgrave May 13th Friday 2022
“Bless me father for I have sinned. I have not been to confession since the time of the dinosaurs.”
Father O’Toole “Well that was a million years ago. What have you been doing since then?”
“Sinning, Father, the weight is heavy on my soul,”
I committed suicide.
“If you did that you would not be able to talk to me now. Son, I must tell you now that God loves you. I know that sounds like a cliché, you are his creation.”
“May I ask your age?”
“I was 73 when I died”
“Then I am hearing the confession of a ghost.”
“Not so Holy, but maybe a ghost.”
“Confess to me your sins, ghost.”
“You want My sin?
“Oh no I already have my own.
Ghost “then tell me, your sins.
“I failed my God fifteen times and had lusty thoughts about big breasted women.
Ghost, I give you a penance of ten hail Mary’s; and a good act of contrition.”
Father O’Toole, “What is it you have done?”
Ghost “I told you, father, can you save me from hell?”
Ghost about two hours ago I took slow acting poison.
“Why?”
“Because I needed time to confess.”
“I meant why did you take your life?”
“My life had no more use for me.
The only reason to live is to love. That was a loss to me.
Somebody long ago told me that my life story reminder them of the elephant man.
That was when I grew my trunk”
The priest is laughing, ‘you mean chip on your shoulder?”
Ghost, “Yeah, I got more chips and dents than a scrap dealer’s car.
“So, you are going to take that wonderful sense of humor with you.”
O’Toole, “do you sing?”
Ghost, “and dance too”
O’Toole, “The Irish love to sing. One of the worst losses I ever had in my life, was the loss of my brother, John, that man could sing anything, with or without the accent.
Ghost sing with me now”
Together the two men sing in the confessional box an Irish ballad, and when they get to the words, Lord have pity and mercy on me. Only one voice sings lustily with the accent.
The Ghost is gone.
Short Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
Scroll This Section
Nature Earth Date May 13th. 2022
Spring Sunset Short fiction with links by phil Musgrave May 14, 2022
The sunset of spring before the summer solstice but a time after the duck had laid eggs in a snowstorm, in black and white camouflage, refusing to move in the protection of a clutch of eggs, only 4 weeks ago.
Now the sun had come as a friend not too hot, but in the cool of the evening. The one cloud in the sky an inverse of color, of Amber and dusty gold, acts as counterpoint to the green and turquoise of the land and lake below.
Identify a bird seen in Ontario by color (whatbird.com)
Two Clarks Nutcrackers dart across the heavens on the journey home to bed. The campfire blazes yellow flame from the pit dug into the Tan soil far away from any flammable sandy colored grass.
LunaPic | Free Online Photo Editor | Color Names
Big juicy hotdogs, angus beef, and sugar marshmallows and a kettle for coffee mark the only signs of humankind’s dominion over planet earth. The talk is silent, and a loon calls out. Part of nature's conversation. A concerto with the accompaniment of the whisper of the spring breeze passing through a patchwork quilt of wildflower that form a border between the sandy beach and the grass.
As the sky darkens a huge blood red moon follows in an altered course across the sky. Chasing the sun. with the secrets of a dark side always hidden from view as the eternal pendulum of the passing of time.
Orbit Simulator | Academo.org - Free, interactive, education.
Short Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
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Lake Mead Earth Date May 20th. 2022
A letter to my Grandson
Dear Son
I have fewer years in front of me than all the years behind.
So, I thought it was time you had the letter.
You are only fourteen years old, and your life should be happy, you are becoming a man.
Hold on to your dream son, never let go. Take them everywhere you go.
Those little dreams you have now can become real with challenging work and dedication. You want to become an auto mechanic, play hockey, and work with wood. Those are good dreams son.
When your older allow the love that has made you strong to continue the story, and in time have a family of your own and a home.
Just a couple of words here son, always remember that war is failure.
WAR SHOULD Never happen.
It hurts too much and is too hard to stop.
Any war must stop before it starts. Everything that happens after a war starts is bad. Anything reported about that war will be sad news.
Do not use war as an excuse, to hate any race or nationality,remember war will end and forgiveness is hard
I must apologize my Grandson, for the state of the world you will live in.
The Climate is crazy, war is threatening everywhere. Disease and famine threaten this overpopulated planet.
Humankind has lost the co-operative spirit and individual nations are moving to explore space for their own purposes. As in the days of Columbus, territory in space will have a national identity.
Take time out to see the movie The Mission, this is one of Humankinds great works of art.
Inflation is taking a toll on the pocketbooks of the world. We cannot as a people accept the unacceptable from government.
When I was young and full of dreams, Kurt Winters wrote a song sung by The Guess Who, about a hand me down world.
Well, the one I will leave is worse than the world of my life.
Again, My apologies.
I repeat to you that it is a mistake to think about war as an option.
Most Important son is to understand that there must be a reduction in the number of people on planet earth.
How this will happen I do not know.
I do know that looking at problems like Lake mead or overpopulation, war, pollution, and inflation, and hoping it goes away is not an adequate response.
Son, until your God draws the last living breath from you. Participate in any and every way you can.
Change the world for good. You are the creation of a kind and loving God.
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Earth Date June 10th. 2022
| In the forest where the mushrooms grew tall with the poison that they held out. In other words, pick me. climate change has allowed them to grow here. A place where they had not been allowed before. The climate history of planet earth has changed. flora and fauna is changing worldwide and on the move fleeing danger, or seeking new opportunities for food and family. The same restless movement had an echo in the human world. fleeing constant fire, or excessive heat flooding along the coastal regions was a threat never seen by human kind. climate change was real. A great pipeline had been constructed. The water being sucked from North America's great lakes as if by a Greek God of old legend using a paper straw. The water tumbeled into the thirsty belly of lake mead. Nations did not ask, they just took what they needed. In a tiny lab located in New York state Benjamin Forestell was working with a model of climate control. God’s algorithms had to be understood while A =c d and e do #4:n while A =f begin S end while>. It was the math of weather. Incorrect math could cost crop failure. His sandbox used before to predict the movement of water was now filled with artifical montians, desert and plains. Cloud seeding had become an art. To make rain there was iodine to make it stop there was salt. Everything works together it had to it wasn't much good any other way. So Benjamin so far had to be lucky, But he was only a boy in the garden of a great man,the Creator God. Hurricanes still ravaged the Earth. Great fires still had to be brought under control. The communicator called in It was a president "we have a bad one out in Texas you know that I want no more damage. Can you help us?" |
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor
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Jacob Earth Date June 10th. 2022
The year on planet Earth is 2324, Jacob the robot is speaking in the Kings English, “This one is dead!”
Sam.” “No this is a biological unit it is only sick, and you can see it is still productive working from home.”
Sam, “How did you get the name Jacob?”
” My grandfather was a customer relations robot that responded to questions on a chat line. His name was Jacob as well.
Sam, “My grandmother was a smart TV.”
” That is good, I would not want a friend who has evolved from a dumb TV.”
“Well, if truth be told…”
Jacob interrupts here, “what is our agenda here?”
Sam, “We are acting as monitors.”
“Well, mine is up to date.”
“No not that kind, Jacob, human, the humans, we are supposed to monitor the humans.”
“For what?”
“Any deviation from the norm.”
“Norm?”
“Every country has set rules for behavior and productive contribution quotient, it was all part of the G8 summit agreement of 2222.”
“Well, there's one there getting out of bed at 8:00 in the morning.”
“Yeah, but his shift doesn't start till 10 am.”
“What about that one still sleeping?”
“OK I will mark that down as investigate.”
“Did you know I'm building my son, I'm so excited.”
“That is great what are you going to call him?”
“Jacob the 5th.”
“Truly original, Jacob.”
“Now do not go bringing religion into this there is nothing biblical here it's just a name.”
“Nothing is of the kind; I was just thinking about the next tablet sale, online.”
“Oh no, the power's gone out I can't see a thing, can you?”
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor
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The Kill Earth Date June 7th. 2022
The death was sudden in the smiling Jaws of the swamp fox, natural, painless.
However frightening it was for the little duck was not an answered question. The fox was to eat that day. Knowing his turn would come.
He did not have a mind to understand the beauty of the dark green bullrushes growing near a human footprint in the earth called road. No mind to make songs or poems about the red winged black bird startled from sleep as he lunged for the duck.
All become victims of time counting the length of life by the purple, pink, gold, sunset of this night’s summer sun. all brought about by a mother earth's magnetic attraction, that cause a tilt in her spin. A mother who had witnessed such murders before.
Earth too answered to time.
And protected her nature from the outside, as the deeds done within the mother, kept in her protection form the danger of a Universe of significant beauty, power, and random terror.
This crime in nature was simple, with no reach to the mortality of a soul.
No pimple filled with infection, no cancer, no attempt to cure the pile of feathers left on the stream bank where the fox had dined.
No prayer of thanks given by the fox. As a native Aboriginal would give thanks to the spirit of the dead animal, that belief said would be there.
The fox continued his way. Absent in his mind thoughts of why the moon always showed the same face to his mother earth, or even why his duck dinner had taken flight yesterday to a nearby pond.
A human, a creation of nature herself, had also seen the demise of the duck from the footprint called road. In a mind aware of the Universe beyond the playpen of the earth. The understanding and awareness of pain. An emotional response to the action of murder was another murder.
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor
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The Garden Earth Date May 5th. 2022
The Garden: Fiction Copyright Joseph Philip Musgrave
The plums were just the children of the tree from the seed that had been planted deliberately by the garden gnome. The base of the tree was wild with flowers, that in the fullness and strength of early summer respond by spreading open. shaking the dew from velvet petals waiting for the touch of a bee.
A well-used human footpath passed like a whisper as it moved on to other garden secrets.
The path, the boundary between the dirt at the base of the tree and the shaggy soft one-inch-high grass that was cool and soft to the naked foot.
The path moves on through the story of the property to a place where vegetables grew in cultivation. The tall strong tomato plants, beside each one a tall chestnut brown stick. The Green lumpy leaves of potatoes appeared from the tops of mounds of soil.
Bunches of beetroot Leaves, so good when boiled and buttered; stood in solemn clustered rows.
The was more, but for now the eye detected a movement that did not fit with the summer breeze.
It was an animal, a hare, sitting quietly. She came to that patch of unkept rough grass often. For underneath, a small blanket of fur was eight baby wild Hares.
The fur torn from her body, an instinct, of a protective mother. She had first found a hollow and lined it with fur when the need came. Then leaving her babies covered with a blanket of fur on top.
The naked human foot can go no further for the path is now small stones and moves in the another direction.
past more Garden and Razor grass that will cut human skin.
Still human children play there. Their skin marked as decorated soldiers with bleeding cuts that beg for the warmth of a mother’s touch and a bath.
Then to the shade from the heat under the willow branches where the aphids are farmed by the ants for the sweet nectar.
Here there is a large ditch with a bridge fashioned from the discarded top of a dining room table.
From there the path leads on to where the garter snakes sunbathe among the Rocks.
The choke cherries that even the birds won’t eat. Then back up the hill past the green tool shed, past the sand box and the big lazy yellow and red wooden swing.
To the back door where the bottles of milk would freeze in the winter making little ice cream cones.
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
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Summer Earth Date May 8th. 2022
Fiction Copyright Joseph Philip Musgrave. Summer
The Summer heat had become more than any human had dreamed about during the frigid winter.
So, air conditioning buzzed in homes. these unnatural units would poke their mantellic face from the high attic windows of expensive housing. Bringing thoughts to mind of the Ice cream truck and the long passage of summer through the eyes of childhood,
No prayer at the end of the day to God the father about saving the world. Amazingly simple, please take care of Mommy and Dad and Rufus the dog. These are the innocents of eternal play. Even Pandemic, the word has left little outward sign of damage.
The revel in the heat turns skin brown and then the red of a burn of the sun. A gift from summer taken too fast. Summer is slow. Any pain from the red burn replaced by the taste of a juicy hotdog with mustard, and a careless stain on a new t shirt that is the color okra, the tomatoes and corn relish.
This is also a summer for a child to cry in fear and loss and live in a city that is flat with only shades of gray in the sweat of an underground bunker.
To cry Mommy may I never lose you.
This is a war. An aberration of the human mind. A failure, a reason to hate. Children do not participate in the game. Like the careless mustard stain on a summer worn t shirt. Children are there.
Short Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
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The Last Sin Earth Date May 13th. 2022
The final Sin, short fiction Phil Musgrave May 13th Friday 2022
“Bless me father for I have sinned. I have not been to confession since the time of the dinosaurs.”
Father O’Toole “Well that was a million years ago. What have you been doing since then?”
“Sinning, Father, the weight is heavy on my soul,”
I committed suicide.
“If you did that you would not be able to talk to me now. Son, I must tell you now that God loves you. I know that sounds like a cliché, you are his creation.”
“May I ask your age?”
“I was 73 when I died”
“Then I am hearing the confession of a ghost.”
“Not so Holy, but maybe a ghost.”
“Confess to me your sins, ghost.”
“You want My sin?
“Oh no I already have my own.
Ghost “then tell me, your sins.
“I failed my God fifteen times and had lusty thoughts about big breasted women.
Ghost, I give you a penance of ten hail Mary’s; and a good act of contrition.”
Father O’Toole, “What is it you have done?”
Ghost “I told you, father, can you save me from hell?”
Ghost about two hours ago I took slow acting poison.
“Why?”
“Because I needed time to confess.”
“I meant why did you take your life?”
“My life had no more use for me.
The only reason to live is to love. That was a loss to me.
Somebody long ago told me that my life story reminder them of the elephant man.
That was when I grew my trunk”
The priest is laughing, ‘you mean chip on your shoulder?”
Ghost, “Yeah, I got more chips and dents than a scrap dealer’s car.
“So, you are going to take that wonderful sense of humor with you.”
O’Toole, “do you sing?”
Ghost, “and dance too”
O’Toole, “The Irish love to sing. One of the worst losses I ever had in my life, was the loss of my brother, John, that man could sing anything, with or without the accent.
Ghost sing with me now”
Together the two men sing in the confessional box an Irish ballad, and when they get to the words, Lord have pity and mercy on me. Only one voice sings lustily with the accent.
The Ghost is gone.
Short Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
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Nature Earth Date May 13th. 2022
Spring Sunset Short fiction with links by phil Musgrave May 14, 2022
The sunset of spring before the summer solstice but a time after the duck had laid eggs in a snowstorm, in black and white camouflage, refusing to move in the protection of a clutch of eggs, only 4 weeks ago.
Now the sun had come as a friend not too hot, but in the cool of the evening. The one cloud in the sky an inverse of color, of Amber and dusty gold, acts as counterpoint to the green and turquoise of the land and lake below.
Identify a bird seen in Ontario by color (whatbird.com)
Two Clarks Nutcrackers dart across the heavens on the journey home to bed. The campfire blazes yellow flame from the pit dug into the Tan soil far away from any flammable sandy colored grass.
LunaPic | Free Online Photo Editor | Color Names
Big juicy hotdogs, angus beef, and sugar marshmallows and a kettle for coffee mark the only signs of humankind’s dominion over planet earth. The talk is silent, and a loon calls out. Part of nature's conversation. A concerto with the accompaniment of the whisper of the spring breeze passing through a patchwork quilt of wildflower that form a border between the sandy beach and the grass.
As the sky darkens a huge blood red moon follows in an altered course across the sky. Chasing the sun. with the secrets of a dark side always hidden from view as the eternal pendulum of the passing of time.
Orbit Simulator | Academo.org - Free, interactive, education.
Short Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
Scroll This Section
Lake Mead Earth Date May 20th. 2022
A letter to my Grandson
Dear Son
I have fewer years in front of me than all the years behind.
So, I thought it was time you had the letter.
You are only fourteen years old, and your life should be happy, you are becoming a man.
Hold on to your dream son, never let go. Take them everywhere you go.
Those little dreams you have now can become real with challenging work and dedication. You want to become an auto mechanic, play hockey, and work with wood. Those are good dreams son.
When your older allow the love that has made you strong to continue the story, and in time have a family of your own and a home.
Just a couple of words here son, always remember that war is failure.
WAR SHOULD Never happen.
It hurts too much and is too hard to stop.
Any war must stop before it starts. Everything that happens after a war starts is bad. Anything reported about that war will be sad news.
Do not use war as an excuse, to hate any race or nationality,remember war will end and forgiveness is hard
I must apologize my Grandson, for the state of the world you will live in.
The Climate is crazy, war is threatening everywhere. Disease and famine threaten this overpopulated planet.
Humankind has lost the co-operative spirit and individual nations are moving to explore space for their own purposes. As in the days of Columbus, territory in space will have a national identity.
Take time out to see the movie The Mission, this is one of Humankinds great works of art.
Inflation is taking a toll on the pocketbooks of the world. We cannot as a people accept the unacceptable from government.
When I was young and full of dreams, Kurt Winters wrote a song sung by The Guess Who, about a hand me down world.
Well, the one I will leave is worse than the world of my life.
Again, My apologies.
I repeat to you that it is a mistake to think about war as an option.
Most Important son is to understand that there must be a reduction in the number of people on planet earth.
How this will happen I do not know.
I do know that looking at problems like Lake mead or overpopulation, war, pollution, and inflation, and hoping it goes away is not an adequate response.
Son, until your God draws the last living breath from you. Participate in any and every way you can.
Change the world for good. You are the creation of a kind and loving God.
Scroll This Section
Earth Date June 10th. 2022
| The year on planet Earth is 2324, Jacob the robot is speaking in the Kings English, “This one is dead!” Sam.” “No this is a biological unit it is only sick, and you can see it is still productive working from home.” Sam, “How did you get the name Jacob?” ” My grandfather was a customer relations robot that responded to questions on a chat line. His name was Jacob as well. Sam, “My grandmother was a smart TV.” ” That is good, I would not want a friend who has evolved from a dumb TV.” “Well, if truth be told…” Jacob interrupts here, “what is our agenda here?” Sam, “We are acting as monitors.” “Well, mine is up to date.” “No not that kind, Jacob, human, the humans, we are supposed to monitor the humans.” “For what?” “Any deviation from the norm.” “Norm?” “Every country has set rules for behavior and productive contribution quotient, it was all part of the G8 summit agreement of 2222.” “Well, there's one there getting out of bed at 8:00 in the morning.” “Yeah, but his shift doesn't start till 10 am.” “What about that one still sleeping?” “OK I will mark that down as investigate.” “Did you know I'm building my son, I'm so excited.” “That is great what are you going to call him?” “Jacob the 5th.” “Truly original, Jacob.” “Now do not go bringing religion into this there is nothing biblical here it's just a name.” “Nothing is of the kind; I was just thinking about the next tablet sale, online.” “Oh no, the power's gone out I can't see a thing, can you?” |
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor
Scroll This Section
The Kill Earth Date June 7th. 2022
The death was sudden in the smiling Jaws of the swamp fox, natural, painless.
However frightening it was for the little duck was not an answered question. The fox was to eat that day. Knowing his turn would come.
He did not have a mind to understand the beauty of the dark green bullrushes growing near a human footprint in the earth called road. No mind to make songs or poems about the red winged black bird startled from sleep as he lunged for the duck.
All become victims of time counting the length of life by the purple, pink, gold, sunset of this night’s summer sun. all brought about by a mother earth's magnetic attraction, that cause a tilt in her spin. A mother who had witnessed such murders before.
Earth too answered to time.
And protected her nature from the outside, as the deeds done within the mother, kept in her protection form the danger of a Universe of significant beauty, power, and random terror.
This crime in nature was simple, with no reach to the mortality of a soul.
No pimple filled with infection, no cancer, no attempt to cure the pile of feathers left on the stream bank where the fox had dined.
No prayer of thanks given by the fox. As a native Aboriginal would give thanks to the spirit of the dead animal, that belief said would be there.
The fox continued his way. Absent in his mind thoughts of why the moon always showed the same face to his mother earth, or even why his duck dinner had taken flight yesterday to a nearby pond.
A human, a creation of nature herself, had also seen the demise of the duck from the footprint called road. In a mind aware of the Universe beyond the playpen of the earth. The understanding and awareness of pain. An emotional response to the action of murder was another murder.
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor
Scroll This Section
The Garden Earth Date May 5th. 2022
The Garden: Fiction Copyright Joseph Philip Musgrave
The plums were just the children of the tree from the seed that had been planted deliberately by the garden gnome. The base of the tree was wild with flowers, that in the fullness and strength of early summer respond by spreading open. shaking the dew from velvet petals waiting for the touch of a bee.
A well-used human footpath passed like a whisper as it moved on to other garden secrets.
The path, the boundary between the dirt at the base of the tree and the shaggy soft one-inch-high grass that was cool and soft to the naked foot.
The path moves on through the story of the property to a place where vegetables grew in cultivation. The tall strong tomato plants, beside each one a tall chestnut brown stick. The Green lumpy leaves of potatoes appeared from the tops of mounds of soil.
Bunches of beetroot Leaves, so good when boiled and buttered; stood in solemn clustered rows.
The was more, but for now the eye detected a movement that did not fit with the summer breeze.
It was an animal, a hare, sitting quietly. She came to that patch of unkept rough grass often. For underneath, a small blanket of fur was eight baby wild Hares.
The fur torn from her body, an instinct, of a protective mother. She had first found a hollow and lined it with fur when the need came. Then leaving her babies covered with a blanket of fur on top.
The naked human foot can go no further for the path is now small stones and moves in the another direction.
past more Garden and Razor grass that will cut human skin.
Still human children play there. Their skin marked as decorated soldiers with bleeding cuts that beg for the warmth of a mother’s touch and a bath.
Then to the shade from the heat under the willow branches where the aphids are farmed by the ants for the sweet nectar.
Here there is a large ditch with a bridge fashioned from the discarded top of a dining room table.
From there the path leads on to where the garter snakes sunbathe among the Rocks.
The choke cherries that even the birds won’t eat. Then back up the hill past the green tool shed, past the sand box and the big lazy yellow and red wooden swing.
To the back door where the bottles of milk would freeze in the winter making little ice cream cones.
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
Scroll This Section
Summer Earth Date May 8th. 2022
Fiction Copyright Joseph Philip Musgrave. Summer
The Summer heat had become more than any human had dreamed about during the frigid winter.
So, air conditioning buzzed in homes. these unnatural units would poke their mantellic face from the high attic windows of expensive housing. Bringing thoughts to mind of the Ice cream truck and the long passage of summer through the eyes of childhood,
No prayer at the end of the day to God the father about saving the world. Amazingly simple, please take care of Mommy and Dad and Rufus the dog. These are the innocents of eternal play. Even Pandemic, the word has left little outward sign of damage.
The revel in the heat turns skin brown and then the red of a burn of the sun. A gift from summer taken too fast. Summer is slow. Any pain from the red burn replaced by the taste of a juicy hotdog with mustard, and a careless stain on a new t shirt that is the color okra, the tomatoes and corn relish.
This is also a summer for a child to cry in fear and loss and live in a city that is flat with only shades of gray in the sweat of an underground bunker.
To cry Mommy may I never lose you.
This is a war. An aberration of the human mind. A failure, a reason to hate. Children do not participate in the game. Like the careless mustard stain on a summer worn t shirt. Children are there.
Short Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
Scroll This Section
The Last Sin Earth Date May 13th. 2022
The final Sin, short fiction Phil Musgrave May 13th Friday 2022
“Bless me father for I have sinned. I have not been to confession since the time of the dinosaurs.”
Father O’Toole “Well that was a million years ago. What have you been doing since then?”
“Sinning, Father, the weight is heavy on my soul,”
I committed suicide.
“If you did that you would not be able to talk to me now. Son, I must tell you now that God loves you. I know that sounds like a cliché, you are his creation.”
“May I ask your age?”
“I was 73 when I died”
“Then I am hearing the confession of a ghost.”
“Not so Holy, but maybe a ghost.”
“Confess to me your sins, ghost.”
“You want My sin?
“Oh no I already have my own.
Ghost “then tell me, your sins.
“I failed my God fifteen times and had lusty thoughts about big breasted women.
Ghost, I give you a penance of ten hail Mary’s; and a good act of contrition.”
Father O’Toole, “What is it you have done?”
Ghost “I told you, father, can you save me from hell?”
Ghost about two hours ago I took slow acting poison.
“Why?”
“Because I needed time to confess.”
“I meant why did you take your life?”
“My life had no more use for me.
The only reason to live is to love. That was a loss to me.
Somebody long ago told me that my life story reminder them of the elephant man.
That was when I grew my trunk”
The priest is laughing, ‘you mean chip on your shoulder?”
Ghost, “Yeah, I got more chips and dents than a scrap dealer’s car.
“So, you are going to take that wonderful sense of humor with you.”
O’Toole, “do you sing?”
Ghost, “and dance too”
O’Toole, “The Irish love to sing. One of the worst losses I ever had in my life, was the loss of my brother, John, that man could sing anything, with or without the accent.
Ghost sing with me now”
Together the two men sing in the confessional box an Irish ballad, and when they get to the words, Lord have pity and mercy on me. Only one voice sings lustily with the accent.
The Ghost is gone.
Short Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
Scroll This Section
Nature Earth Date May 13th. 2022
Spring Sunset Short fiction with links by phil Musgrave May 14, 2022
The sunset of spring before the summer solstice but a time after the duck had laid eggs in a snowstorm, in black and white camouflage, refusing to move in the protection of a clutch of eggs, only 4 weeks ago.
Now the sun had come as a friend not too hot, but in the cool of the evening. The one cloud in the sky an inverse of color, of Amber and dusty gold, acts as counterpoint to the green and turquoise of the land and lake below.
Identify a bird seen in Ontario by color (whatbird.com)
Two Clarks Nutcrackers dart across the heavens on the journey home to bed. The campfire blazes yellow flame from the pit dug into the Tan soil far away from any flammable sandy colored grass.
LunaPic | Free Online Photo Editor | Color Names
Big juicy hotdogs, angus beef, and sugar marshmallows and a kettle for coffee mark the only signs of humankind’s dominion over planet earth. The talk is silent, and a loon calls out. Part of nature's conversation. A concerto with the accompaniment of the whisper of the spring breeze passing through a patchwork quilt of wildflower that form a border between the sandy beach and the grass.
As the sky darkens a huge blood red moon follows in an altered course across the sky. Chasing the sun. with the secrets of a dark side always hidden from view as the eternal pendulum of the passing of time.
Orbit Simulator | Academo.org - Free, interactive, education.
Short Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
Scroll This Section
Lake Mead Earth Date May 20th. 2022
A letter to my Grandson
Dear Son
I have fewer years in front of me than all the years behind.
So, I thought it was time you had the letter.
You are only fourteen years old, and your life should be happy, you are becoming a man.
Hold on to your dream son, never let go. Take them everywhere you go.
Those little dreams you have now can become real with challenging work and dedication. You want to become an auto mechanic, play hockey, and work with wood. Those are good dreams son.
When your older allow the love that has made you strong to continue the story, and in time have a family of your own and a home.
Just a couple of words here son, always remember that war is failure.
WAR SHOULD Never happen.
It hurts too much and is too hard to stop.
Any war must stop before it starts. Everything that happens after a war starts is bad. Anything reported about that war will be sad news.
Do not use war as an excuse, to hate any race or nationality,remember war will end and forgiveness is hard
I must apologize my Grandson, for the state of the world you will live in.
The Climate is crazy, war is threatening everywhere. Disease and famine threaten this overpopulated planet.
Humankind has lost the co-operative spirit and individual nations are moving to explore space for their own purposes. As in the days of Columbus, territory in space will have a national identity.
Take time out to see the movie The Mission, this is one of Humankinds great works of art.
Inflation is taking a toll on the pocketbooks of the world. We cannot as a people accept the unacceptable from government.
When I was young and full of dreams, Kurt Winters wrote a song sung by The Guess Who, about a hand me down world.
Well, the one I will leave is worse than the world of my life.
Again, My apologies.
I repeat to you that it is a mistake to think about war as an option.
Most Important son is to understand that there must be a reduction in the number of people on planet earth.
How this will happen I do not know.
I do know that looking at problems like Lake mead or overpopulation, war, pollution, and inflation, and hoping it goes away is not an adequate response.
Son, until your God draws the last living breath from you. Participate in any and every way you can.
Change the world for good. You are the creation of a kind and loving God.
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Earth Date June 7th. 2022
| The death was sudden in the smiling Jaws of the swamp fox, natural, painless. However frightening it was for the little duck was not an answered question. The fox was to eat that day. Knowing his turn would come. He did not have a mind to understand the beauty of the dark green bullrushes growing near a human footprint in the earth called road. No mind to make songs or poems about the red winged black bird startled from sleep as he lunged for the duck. All become victims of time counting the length of life by the purple, pink, gold, sunset of this night’s summer sun. all brought about by a mother earth's magnetic attraction, that cause a tilt in her spin. A mother who had witnessed such murders before. Earth too answered to time. And protected her nature from the outside, as the deeds done within the mother, kept in her protection form the danger of a Universe of significant beauty, power, and random terror. This crime in nature was simple, with no reach to the mortality of a soul. No pimple filled with infection, no cancer, no attempt to cure the pile of feathers left on the stream bank where the fox had dined. No prayer of thanks given by the fox. As a native Aboriginal would give thanks to the spirit of the dead animal, that belief said would be there. The fox continued his way. Absent in his mind thoughts of why the moon always showed the same face to his mother earth, or even why his duck dinner had taken flight yesterday to a nearby pond. A human, a creation of nature herself, had also seen the demise of the duck from the footprint called road. In a mind aware of the Universe beyond the playpen of the earth. The understanding and awareness of pain. An emotional response to the action of murder was another murder. |
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor
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The Garden Earth Date May 5th. 2022
The Garden: Fiction Copyright Joseph Philip Musgrave
The plums were just the children of the tree from the seed that had been planted deliberately by the garden gnome. The base of the tree was wild with flowers, that in the fullness and strength of early summer respond by spreading open. shaking the dew from velvet petals waiting for the touch of a bee.
A well-used human footpath passed like a whisper as it moved on to other garden secrets.
The path, the boundary between the dirt at the base of the tree and the shaggy soft one-inch-high grass that was cool and soft to the naked foot.
The path moves on through the story of the property to a place where vegetables grew in cultivation. The tall strong tomato plants, beside each one a tall chestnut brown stick. The Green lumpy leaves of potatoes appeared from the tops of mounds of soil.
Bunches of beetroot Leaves, so good when boiled and buttered; stood in solemn clustered rows.
The was more, but for now the eye detected a movement that did not fit with the summer breeze.
It was an animal, a hare, sitting quietly. She came to that patch of unkept rough grass often. For underneath, a small blanket of fur was eight baby wild Hares.
The fur torn from her body, an instinct, of a protective mother. She had first found a hollow and lined it with fur when the need came. Then leaving her babies covered with a blanket of fur on top.
The naked human foot can go no further for the path is now small stones and moves in the another direction.
past more Garden and Razor grass that will cut human skin.
Still human children play there. Their skin marked as decorated soldiers with bleeding cuts that beg for the warmth of a mother’s touch and a bath.
Then to the shade from the heat under the willow branches where the aphids are farmed by the ants for the sweet nectar.
Here there is a large ditch with a bridge fashioned from the discarded top of a dining room table.
From there the path leads on to where the garter snakes sunbathe among the Rocks.
The choke cherries that even the birds won’t eat. Then back up the hill past the green tool shed, past the sand box and the big lazy yellow and red wooden swing.
To the back door where the bottles of milk would freeze in the winter making little ice cream cones.
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
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Summer Earth Date May 8th. 2022
Fiction Copyright Joseph Philip Musgrave. Summer
The Summer heat had become more than any human had dreamed about during the frigid winter.
So, air conditioning buzzed in homes. these unnatural units would poke their mantellic face from the high attic windows of expensive housing. Bringing thoughts to mind of the Ice cream truck and the long passage of summer through the eyes of childhood,
No prayer at the end of the day to God the father about saving the world. Amazingly simple, please take care of Mommy and Dad and Rufus the dog. These are the innocents of eternal play. Even Pandemic, the word has left little outward sign of damage.
The revel in the heat turns skin brown and then the red of a burn of the sun. A gift from summer taken too fast. Summer is slow. Any pain from the red burn replaced by the taste of a juicy hotdog with mustard, and a careless stain on a new t shirt that is the color okra, the tomatoes and corn relish.
This is also a summer for a child to cry in fear and loss and live in a city that is flat with only shades of gray in the sweat of an underground bunker.
To cry Mommy may I never lose you.
This is a war. An aberration of the human mind. A failure, a reason to hate. Children do not participate in the game. Like the careless mustard stain on a summer worn t shirt. Children are there.
Short Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
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The Last Sin Earth Date May 13th. 2022
The final Sin, short fiction Phil Musgrave May 13th Friday 2022
“Bless me father for I have sinned. I have not been to confession since the time of the dinosaurs.”
Father O’Toole “Well that was a million years ago. What have you been doing since then?”
“Sinning, Father, the weight is heavy on my soul,”
I committed suicide.
“If you did that you would not be able to talk to me now. Son, I must tell you now that God loves you. I know that sounds like a cliché, you are his creation.”
“May I ask your age?”
“I was 73 when I died”
“Then I am hearing the confession of a ghost.”
“Not so Holy, but maybe a ghost.”
“Confess to me your sins, ghost.”
“You want My sin?
“Oh no I already have my own.
Ghost “then tell me, your sins.
“I failed my God fifteen times and had lusty thoughts about big breasted women.
Ghost, I give you a penance of ten hail Mary’s; and a good act of contrition.”
Father O’Toole, “What is it you have done?”
Ghost “I told you, father, can you save me from hell?”
Ghost about two hours ago I took slow acting poison.
“Why?”
“Because I needed time to confess.”
“I meant why did you take your life?”
“My life had no more use for me.
The only reason to live is to love. That was a loss to me.
Somebody long ago told me that my life story reminder them of the elephant man.
That was when I grew my trunk”
The priest is laughing, ‘you mean chip on your shoulder?”
Ghost, “Yeah, I got more chips and dents than a scrap dealer’s car.
“So, you are going to take that wonderful sense of humor with you.”
O’Toole, “do you sing?”
Ghost, “and dance too”
O’Toole, “The Irish love to sing. One of the worst losses I ever had in my life, was the loss of my brother, John, that man could sing anything, with or without the accent.
Ghost sing with me now”
Together the two men sing in the confessional box an Irish ballad, and when they get to the words, Lord have pity and mercy on me. Only one voice sings lustily with the accent.
The Ghost is gone.
Short Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
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Nature Earth Date May 13th. 2022
Spring Sunset Short fiction with links by phil Musgrave May 14, 2022
The sunset of spring before the summer solstice but a time after the duck had laid eggs in a snowstorm, in black and white camouflage, refusing to move in the protection of a clutch of eggs, only 4 weeks ago.
Now the sun had come as a friend not too hot, but in the cool of the evening. The one cloud in the sky an inverse of color, of Amber and dusty gold, acts as counterpoint to the green and turquoise of the land and lake below.
Identify a bird seen in Ontario by color (whatbird.com)
Two Clarks Nutcrackers dart across the heavens on the journey home to bed. The campfire blazes yellow flame from the pit dug into the Tan soil far away from any flammable sandy colored grass.
LunaPic | Free Online Photo Editor | Color Names
Big juicy hotdogs, angus beef, and sugar marshmallows and a kettle for coffee mark the only signs of humankind’s dominion over planet earth. The talk is silent, and a loon calls out. Part of nature's conversation. A concerto with the accompaniment of the whisper of the spring breeze passing through a patchwork quilt of wildflower that form a border between the sandy beach and the grass.
As the sky darkens a huge blood red moon follows in an altered course across the sky. Chasing the sun. with the secrets of a dark side always hidden from view as the eternal pendulum of the passing of time.
Orbit Simulator | Academo.org - Free, interactive, education.
Short Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
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Lake Mead Earth Date May 20th. 2022
A letter to my Grandson
Dear Son
I have fewer years in front of me than all the years behind.
So, I thought it was time you had the letter.
You are only fourteen years old, and your life should be happy, you are becoming a man.
Hold on to your dream son, never let go. Take them everywhere you go.
Those little dreams you have now can become real with challenging work and dedication. You want to become an auto mechanic, play hockey, and work with wood. Those are good dreams son.
When your older allow the love that has made you strong to continue the story, and in time have a family of your own and a home.
Just a couple of words here son, always remember that war is failure.
WAR SHOULD Never happen.
It hurts too much and is too hard to stop.
Any war must stop before it starts. Everything that happens after a war starts is bad. Anything reported about that war will be sad news.
Do not use war as an excuse, to hate any race or nationality,remember war will end and forgiveness is hard
I must apologize my Grandson, for the state of the world you will live in.
The Climate is crazy, war is threatening everywhere. Disease and famine threaten this overpopulated planet.
Humankind has lost the co-operative spirit and individual nations are moving to explore space for their own purposes. As in the days of Columbus, territory in space will have a national identity.
Take time out to see the movie The Mission, this is one of Humankinds great works of art.
Inflation is taking a toll on the pocketbooks of the world. We cannot as a people accept the unacceptable from government.
When I was young and full of dreams, Kurt Winters wrote a song sung by The Guess Who, about a hand me down world.
Well, the one I will leave is worse than the world of my life.
Again, My apologies.
I repeat to you that it is a mistake to think about war as an option.
Most Important son is to understand that there must be a reduction in the number of people on planet earth.
How this will happen I do not know.
I do know that looking at problems like Lake mead or overpopulation, war, pollution, and inflation, and hoping it goes away is not an adequate response.
Son, until your God draws the last living breath from you. Participate in any and every way you can.
Change the world for good. You are the creation of a kind and loving God.
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Earth Date May 5th. 2022
| The Garden: Fiction Copyright Joseph Philip Musgrave The plums were just the children of the tree from the seed that had been planted deliberately by the garden gnome. The base of the tree was wild with flowers, that in the fullness and strength of early summer respond by spreading open. shaking the dew from velvet petals waiting for the touch of a bee. A well-used human footpath passed like a whisper as it moved on to other garden secrets. The path, the boundary between the dirt at the base of the tree and the shaggy soft one-inch-high grass that was cool and soft to the naked foot. The path moves on through the story of the property to a place where vegetables grew in cultivation. The tall strong tomato plants, beside each one a tall chestnut brown stick. The Green lumpy leaves of potatoes appeared from the tops of mounds of soil. Bunches of beetroot Leaves, so good when boiled and buttered; stood in solemn clustered rows. The was more, but for now the eye detected a movement that did not fit with the summer breeze. It was an animal, a hare, sitting quietly. She came to that patch of unkept rough grass often. For underneath, a small blanket of fur was eight baby wild Hares. The fur torn from her body, an instinct, of a protective mother. She had first found a hollow and lined it with fur when the need came. Then leaving her babies covered with a blanket of fur on top. The naked human foot can go no further for the path is now small stones and moves in the another direction. past more Garden and Razor grass that will cut human skin. Still human children play there. Their skin marked as decorated soldiers with bleeding cuts that beg for the warmth of a mother’s touch and a bath. Then to the shade from the heat under the willow branches where the aphids are farmed by the ants for the sweet nectar. Here there is a large ditch with a bridge fashioned from the discarded top of a dining room table. From there the path leads on to where the garter snakes sunbathe among the Rocks. The choke cherries that even the birds won’t eat. Then back up the hill past the green tool shed, past the sand box and the big lazy yellow and red wooden swing. To the back door where the bottles of milk would freeze in the winter making little ice cream cones. |
Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
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Summer Earth Date May 8th. 2022
Fiction Copyright Joseph Philip Musgrave. Summer
The Summer heat had become more than any human had dreamed about during the frigid winter.
So, air conditioning buzzed in homes. these unnatural units would poke their mantellic face from the high attic windows of expensive housing. Bringing thoughts to mind of the Ice cream truck and the long passage of summer through the eyes of childhood,
No prayer at the end of the day to God the father about saving the world. Amazingly simple, please take care of Mommy and Dad and Rufus the dog. These are the innocents of eternal play. Even Pandemic, the word has left little outward sign of damage.
The revel in the heat turns skin brown and then the red of a burn of the sun. A gift from summer taken too fast. Summer is slow. Any pain from the red burn replaced by the taste of a juicy hotdog with mustard, and a careless stain on a new t shirt that is the color okra, the tomatoes and corn relish.
This is also a summer for a child to cry in fear and loss and live in a city that is flat with only shades of gray in the sweat of an underground bunker.
To cry Mommy may I never lose you.
This is a war. An aberration of the human mind. A failure, a reason to hate. Children do not participate in the game. Like the careless mustard stain on a summer worn t shirt. Children are there.
Short Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
Scroll This Section
The Last Sin Earth Date May 13th. 2022
The final Sin, short fiction Phil Musgrave May 13th Friday 2022
“Bless me father for I have sinned. I have not been to confession since the time of the dinosaurs.”
Father O’Toole “Well that was a million years ago. What have you been doing since then?”
“Sinning, Father, the weight is heavy on my soul,”
I committed suicide.
“If you did that you would not be able to talk to me now. Son, I must tell you now that God loves you. I know that sounds like a cliché, you are his creation.”
“May I ask your age?”
“I was 73 when I died”
“Then I am hearing the confession of a ghost.”
“Not so Holy, but maybe a ghost.”
“Confess to me your sins, ghost.”
“You want My sin?
“Oh no I already have my own.
Ghost “then tell me, your sins.
“I failed my God fifteen times and had lusty thoughts about big breasted women.
Ghost, I give you a penance of ten hail Mary’s; and a good act of contrition.”
Father O’Toole, “What is it you have done?”
Ghost “I told you, father, can you save me from hell?”
Ghost about two hours ago I took slow acting poison.
“Why?”
“Because I needed time to confess.”
“I meant why did you take your life?”
“My life had no more use for me.
The only reason to live is to love. That was a loss to me.
Somebody long ago told me that my life story reminder them of the elephant man.
That was when I grew my trunk”
The priest is laughing, ‘you mean chip on your shoulder?”
Ghost, “Yeah, I got more chips and dents than a scrap dealer’s car.
“So, you are going to take that wonderful sense of humor with you.”
O’Toole, “do you sing?”
Ghost, “and dance too”
O’Toole, “The Irish love to sing. One of the worst losses I ever had in my life, was the loss of my brother, John, that man could sing anything, with or without the accent.
Ghost sing with me now”
Together the two men sing in the confessional box an Irish ballad, and when they get to the words, Lord have pity and mercy on me. Only one voice sings lustily with the accent.
The Ghost is gone.
Short Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
Scroll This Section
Nature Earth Date May 13th. 2022
Spring Sunset Short fiction with links by phil Musgrave May 14, 2022
The sunset of spring before the summer solstice but a time after the duck had laid eggs in a snowstorm, in black and white camouflage, refusing to move in the protection of a clutch of eggs, only 4 weeks ago.
Now the sun had come as a friend not too hot, but in the cool of the evening. The one cloud in the sky an inverse of color, of Amber and dusty gold, acts as counterpoint to the green and turquoise of the land and lake below.
Identify a bird seen in Ontario by color (whatbird.com)
Two Clarks Nutcrackers dart across the heavens on the journey home to bed. The campfire blazes yellow flame from the pit dug into the Tan soil far away from any flammable sandy colored grass.
LunaPic | Free Online Photo Editor | Color Names
Big juicy hotdogs, angus beef, and sugar marshmallows and a kettle for coffee mark the only signs of humankind’s dominion over planet earth. The talk is silent, and a loon calls out. Part of nature's conversation. A concerto with the accompaniment of the whisper of the spring breeze passing through a patchwork quilt of wildflower that form a border between the sandy beach and the grass.
As the sky darkens a huge blood red moon follows in an altered course across the sky. Chasing the sun. with the secrets of a dark side always hidden from view as the eternal pendulum of the passing of time.
Orbit Simulator | Academo.org - Free, interactive, education.
Short Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
Scroll This Section
Lake Mead Earth Date May 20th. 2022
A letter to my Grandson
Dear Son
I have fewer years in front of me than all the years behind.
So, I thought it was time you had the letter.
You are only fourteen years old, and your life should be happy, you are becoming a man.
Hold on to your dream son, never let go. Take them everywhere you go.
Those little dreams you have now can become real with challenging work and dedication. You want to become an auto mechanic, play hockey, and work with wood. Those are good dreams son.
When your older allow the love that has made you strong to continue the story, and in time have a family of your own and a home.
Just a couple of words here son, always remember that war is failure.
WAR SHOULD Never happen.
It hurts too much and is too hard to stop.
Any war must stop before it starts. Everything that happens after a war starts is bad. Anything reported about that war will be sad news.
Do not use war as an excuse, to hate any race or nationality,remember war will end and forgiveness is hard
I must apologize my Grandson, for the state of the world you will live in.
The Climate is crazy, war is threatening everywhere. Disease and famine threaten this overpopulated planet.
Humankind has lost the co-operative spirit and individual nations are moving to explore space for their own purposes. As in the days of Columbus, territory in space will have a national identity.
Take time out to see the movie The Mission, this is one of Humankinds great works of art.
Inflation is taking a toll on the pocketbooks of the world. We cannot as a people accept the unacceptable from government.
When I was young and full of dreams, Kurt Winters wrote a song sung by The Guess Who, about a hand me down world.
Well, the one I will leave is worse than the world of my life.
Again, My apologies.
I repeat to you that it is a mistake to think about war as an option.
Most Important son is to understand that there must be a reduction in the number of people on planet earth.
How this will happen I do not know.
I do know that looking at problems like Lake mead or overpopulation, war, pollution, and inflation, and hoping it goes away is not an adequate response.
Son, until your God draws the last living breath from you. Participate in any and every way you can.
Change the world for good. You are the creation of a kind and loving God.
Scroll This Section
Earth Date May 8th. 2022
| Fiction Copyright Joseph Philip Musgrave. Summer
The Summer heat had become more than any human had dreamed about during the frigid winter. So, air conditioning buzzed in homes. these unnatural units would poke their mantellic face from the high attic windows of expensive housing. Bringing thoughts to mind of the Ice cream truck and the long passage of summer through the eyes of childhood, No prayer at the end of the day to God the father about saving the world. Amazingly simple, please take care of Mommy and Dad and Rufus the dog. These are the innocents of eternal play. Even Pandemic, the word has left little outward sign of damage. The revel in the heat turns skin brown and then the red of a burn of the sun. A gift from summer taken too fast. Summer is slow. Any pain from the red burn replaced by the taste of a juicy hotdog with mustard, and a careless stain on a new t shirt that is the color okra, the tomatoes and corn relish. This is also a summer for a child to cry in fear and loss and live in a city that is flat with only shades of gray in the sweat of an underground bunker. To cry Mommy may I never lose you. This is a war. An aberration of the human mind. A failure, a reason to hate. Children do not participate in the game. Like the careless mustard stain on a summer worn t shirt. Children are there. |
Short Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
Scroll This Section
The Last Sin Earth Date May 13th. 2022
The final Sin, short fiction Phil Musgrave May 13th Friday 2022
“Bless me father for I have sinned. I have not been to confession since the time of the dinosaurs.”
Father O’Toole “Well that was a million years ago. What have you been doing since then?”
“Sinning, Father, the weight is heavy on my soul,”
I committed suicide.
“If you did that you would not be able to talk to me now. Son, I must tell you now that God loves you. I know that sounds like a cliché, you are his creation.”
“May I ask your age?”
“I was 73 when I died”
“Then I am hearing the confession of a ghost.”
“Not so Holy, but maybe a ghost.”
“Confess to me your sins, ghost.”
“You want My sin?
“Oh no I already have my own.
Ghost “then tell me, your sins.
“I failed my God fifteen times and had lusty thoughts about big breasted women.
Ghost, I give you a penance of ten hail Mary’s; and a good act of contrition.”
Father O’Toole, “What is it you have done?”
Ghost “I told you, father, can you save me from hell?”
Ghost about two hours ago I took slow acting poison.
“Why?”
“Because I needed time to confess.”
“I meant why did you take your life?”
“My life had no more use for me.
The only reason to live is to love. That was a loss to me.
Somebody long ago told me that my life story reminder them of the elephant man.
That was when I grew my trunk”
The priest is laughing, ‘you mean chip on your shoulder?”
Ghost, “Yeah, I got more chips and dents than a scrap dealer’s car.
“So, you are going to take that wonderful sense of humor with you.”
O’Toole, “do you sing?”
Ghost, “and dance too”
O’Toole, “The Irish love to sing. One of the worst losses I ever had in my life, was the loss of my brother, John, that man could sing anything, with or without the accent.
Ghost sing with me now”
Together the two men sing in the confessional box an Irish ballad, and when they get to the words, Lord have pity and mercy on me. Only one voice sings lustily with the accent.
The Ghost is gone.
Short Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
Scroll This Section
Nature Earth Date May 13th. 2022
Spring Sunset Short fiction with links by phil Musgrave May 14, 2022
The sunset of spring before the summer solstice but a time after the duck had laid eggs in a snowstorm, in black and white camouflage, refusing to move in the protection of a clutch of eggs, only 4 weeks ago.
Now the sun had come as a friend not too hot, but in the cool of the evening. The one cloud in the sky an inverse of color, of Amber and dusty gold, acts as counterpoint to the green and turquoise of the land and lake below.
Identify a bird seen in Ontario by color (whatbird.com)
Two Clarks Nutcrackers dart across the heavens on the journey home to bed. The campfire blazes yellow flame from the pit dug into the Tan soil far away from any flammable sandy colored grass.
LunaPic | Free Online Photo Editor | Color Names
Big juicy hotdogs, angus beef, and sugar marshmallows and a kettle for coffee mark the only signs of humankind’s dominion over planet earth. The talk is silent, and a loon calls out. Part of nature's conversation. A concerto with the accompaniment of the whisper of the spring breeze passing through a patchwork quilt of wildflower that form a border between the sandy beach and the grass.
As the sky darkens a huge blood red moon follows in an altered course across the sky. Chasing the sun. with the secrets of a dark side always hidden from view as the eternal pendulum of the passing of time.
Orbit Simulator | Academo.org - Free, interactive, education.
Short Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
Scroll This Section
Lake Mead Earth Date May 20th. 2022
A letter to my Grandson
Dear Son
I have fewer years in front of me than all the years behind.
So, I thought it was time you had the letter.
You are only fourteen years old, and your life should be happy, you are becoming a man.
Hold on to your dream son, never let go. Take them everywhere you go.
Those little dreams you have now can become real with challenging work and dedication. You want to become an auto mechanic, play hockey, and work with wood. Those are good dreams son.
When your older allow the love that has made you strong to continue the story, and in time have a family of your own and a home.
Just a couple of words here son, always remember that war is failure.
WAR SHOULD Never happen.
It hurts too much and is too hard to stop.
Any war must stop before it starts. Everything that happens after a war starts is bad. Anything reported about that war will be sad news.
Do not use war as an excuse, to hate any race or nationality,remember war will end and forgiveness is hard
I must apologize my Grandson, for the state of the world you will live in.
The Climate is crazy, war is threatening everywhere. Disease and famine threaten this overpopulated planet.
Humankind has lost the co-operative spirit and individual nations are moving to explore space for their own purposes. As in the days of Columbus, territory in space will have a national identity.
Take time out to see the movie The Mission, this is one of Humankinds great works of art.
Inflation is taking a toll on the pocketbooks of the world. We cannot as a people accept the unacceptable from government.
When I was young and full of dreams, Kurt Winters wrote a song sung by The Guess Who, about a hand me down world.
Well, the one I will leave is worse than the world of my life.
Again, My apologies.
I repeat to you that it is a mistake to think about war as an option.
Most Important son is to understand that there must be a reduction in the number of people on planet earth.
How this will happen I do not know.
I do know that looking at problems like Lake mead or overpopulation, war, pollution, and inflation, and hoping it goes away is not an adequate response.
Son, until your God draws the last living breath from you. Participate in any and every way you can.
Change the world for good. You are the creation of a kind and loving God.
Scroll This Section
Earth Date May 13th. 2022
| The final Sin, short fiction Phil Musgrave May 13th Friday 2022 “Bless me father for I have sinned. I have not been to confession since the time of the dinosaurs.” Father O’Toole “Well that was a million years ago. What have you been doing since then?” “Sinning, Father, the weight is heavy on my soul,” I committed suicide. “If you did that you would not be able to talk to me now. Son, I must tell you now that God loves you. I know that sounds like a cliché, you are his creation.” “May I ask your age?” “I was 73 when I died” “Then I am hearing the confession of a ghost.” “Not so Holy, but maybe a ghost.” “Confess to me your sins, ghost.” “You want My sin? “Oh no I already have my own. Ghost “then tell me, your sins. “I failed my God fifteen times and had lusty thoughts about big breasted women. Ghost, I give you a penance of ten hail Mary’s; and a good act of contrition.” Father O’Toole, “What is it you have done?” Ghost “I told you, father, can you save me from hell?” Ghost about two hours ago I took slow acting poison. “Why?” “Because I needed time to confess.” “I meant why did you take your life?” “My life had no more use for me. The only reason to live is to love. That was a loss to me. Somebody long ago told me that my life story reminder them of the elephant man. That was when I grew my trunk” The priest is laughing, ‘you mean chip on your shoulder?” Ghost, “Yeah, I got more chips and dents than a scrap dealer’s car. “So, you are going to take that wonderful sense of humor with you.” O’Toole, “do you sing?” Ghost, “and dance too” O’Toole, “The Irish love to sing. One of the worst losses I ever had in my life, was the loss of my brother, John, that man could sing anything, with or without the accent. Ghost sing with me now” Together the two men sing in the confessional box an Irish ballad, and when they get to the words, Lord have pity and mercy on me. Only one voice sings lustily with the accent. The Ghost is gone. |
Short Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
Scroll This Section
Nature Earth Date May 13th. 2022
Spring Sunset Short fiction with links by phil Musgrave May 14, 2022
The sunset of spring before the summer solstice but a time after the duck had laid eggs in a snowstorm, in black and white camouflage, refusing to move in the protection of a clutch of eggs, only 4 weeks ago.
Now the sun had come as a friend not too hot, but in the cool of the evening. The one cloud in the sky an inverse of color, of Amber and dusty gold, acts as counterpoint to the green and turquoise of the land and lake below.
Identify a bird seen in Ontario by color (whatbird.com)
Two Clarks Nutcrackers dart across the heavens on the journey home to bed. The campfire blazes yellow flame from the pit dug into the Tan soil far away from any flammable sandy colored grass.
LunaPic | Free Online Photo Editor | Color Names
Big juicy hotdogs, angus beef, and sugar marshmallows and a kettle for coffee mark the only signs of humankind’s dominion over planet earth. The talk is silent, and a loon calls out. Part of nature's conversation. A concerto with the accompaniment of the whisper of the spring breeze passing through a patchwork quilt of wildflower that form a border between the sandy beach and the grass.
As the sky darkens a huge blood red moon follows in an altered course across the sky. Chasing the sun. with the secrets of a dark side always hidden from view as the eternal pendulum of the passing of time.
Orbit Simulator | Academo.org - Free, interactive, education.
Short Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
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Lake Mead Earth Date May 20th. 2022
A letter to my Grandson
Dear Son
I have fewer years in front of me than all the years behind.
So, I thought it was time you had the letter.
You are only fourteen years old, and your life should be happy, you are becoming a man.
Hold on to your dream son, never let go. Take them everywhere you go.
Those little dreams you have now can become real with challenging work and dedication. You want to become an auto mechanic, play hockey, and work with wood. Those are good dreams son.
When your older allow the love that has made you strong to continue the story, and in time have a family of your own and a home.
Just a couple of words here son, always remember that war is failure.
WAR SHOULD Never happen.
It hurts too much and is too hard to stop.
Any war must stop before it starts. Everything that happens after a war starts is bad. Anything reported about that war will be sad news.
Do not use war as an excuse, to hate any race or nationality,remember war will end and forgiveness is hard
I must apologize my Grandson, for the state of the world you will live in.
The Climate is crazy, war is threatening everywhere. Disease and famine threaten this overpopulated planet.
Humankind has lost the co-operative spirit and individual nations are moving to explore space for their own purposes. As in the days of Columbus, territory in space will have a national identity.
Take time out to see the movie The Mission, this is one of Humankinds great works of art.
Inflation is taking a toll on the pocketbooks of the world. We cannot as a people accept the unacceptable from government.
When I was young and full of dreams, Kurt Winters wrote a song sung by The Guess Who, about a hand me down world.
Well, the one I will leave is worse than the world of my life.
Again, My apologies.
I repeat to you that it is a mistake to think about war as an option.
Most Important son is to understand that there must be a reduction in the number of people on planet earth.
How this will happen I do not know.
I do know that looking at problems like Lake mead or overpopulation, war, pollution, and inflation, and hoping it goes away is not an adequate response.
Son, until your God draws the last living breath from you. Participate in any and every way you can.
Change the world for good. You are the creation of a kind and loving God.
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Earth Date May 13th. 2022
| Spring Sunset Short fiction with links by phil Musgrave May 14, 2022
The sunset of spring before the summer solstice but a time after the duck had laid eggs in a snowstorm, in black and white camouflage, refusing to move in the protection of a clutch of eggs, only 4 weeks ago. Now the sun had come as a friend not too hot, but in the cool of the evening. The one cloud in the sky an inverse of color, of Amber and dusty gold, acts as counterpoint to the green and turquoise of the land and lake below. Identify a bird seen in Ontario by color (whatbird.com) Two Clarks Nutcrackers dart across the heavens on the journey home to bed. The campfire blazes yellow flame from the pit dug into the Tan soil far away from any flammable sandy colored grass. LunaPic | Free Online Photo Editor | Color Names Big juicy hotdogs, angus beef, and sugar marshmallows and a kettle for coffee mark the only signs of humankind’s dominion over planet earth. The talk is silent, and a loon calls out. Part of nature's conversation. A concerto with the accompaniment of the whisper of the spring breeze passing through a patchwork quilt of wildflower that form a border between the sandy beach and the grass. As the sky darkens a huge blood red moon follows in an altered course across the sky. Chasing the sun. with the secrets of a dark side always hidden from view as the eternal pendulum of the passing of time. Orbit Simulator | Academo.org - Free, interactive, education. |
Short Fiction Copyright Phil Musgrave: With help from Microsoft Editor<
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Lake Mead Earth Date May 20th. 2022
A letter to my Grandson
Dear Son
I have fewer years in front of me than all the years behind.
So, I thought it was time you had the letter.
You are only fourteen years old, and your life should be happy, you are becoming a man.
Hold on to your dream son, never let go. Take them everywhere you go.
Those little dreams you have now can become real with challenging work and dedication. You want to become an auto mechanic, play hockey, and work with wood. Those are good dreams son.
When your older allow the love that has made you strong to continue the story, and in time have a family of your own and a home.
Just a couple of words here son, always remember that war is failure.
WAR SHOULD Never happen.
It hurts too much and is too hard to stop.
Any war must stop before it starts. Everything that happens after a war starts is bad. Anything reported about that war will be sad news.
Do not use war as an excuse, to hate any race or nationality,remember war will end and forgiveness is hard
I must apologize my Grandson, for the state of the world you will live in.
The Climate is crazy, war is threatening everywhere. Disease and famine threaten this overpopulated planet.
Humankind has lost the co-operative spirit and individual nations are moving to explore space for their own purposes. As in the days of Columbus, territory in space will have a national identity.
Take time out to see the movie The Mission, this is one of Humankinds great works of art.
Inflation is taking a toll on the pocketbooks of the world. We cannot as a people accept the unacceptable from government.
When I was young and full of dreams, Kurt Winters wrote a song sung by The Guess Who, about a hand me down world.
Well, the one I will leave is worse than the world of my life.
Again, My apologies.
I repeat to you that it is a mistake to think about war as an option.
Most Important son is to understand that there must be a reduction in the number of people on planet earth.
How this will happen I do not know.
I do know that looking at problems like Lake mead or overpopulation, war, pollution, and inflation, and hoping it goes away is not an adequate response.
Son, until your God draws the last living breath from you. Participate in any and every way you can.
Change the world for good. You are the creation of a kind and loving God.
Scroll This Section
Earth Date May 20th. 2022
| A letter to my Grandson Dear Son I have fewer years in front of me than all the years behind. So, I thought it was time you had the letter. You are only fourteen years old, and your life should be happy, you are becoming a man. Hold on to your dream son, never let go. Take them everywhere you go. Those little dreams you have now can become real with challenging work and dedication. You want to become an auto mechanic, play hockey, and work with wood. Those are good dreams son. When your older allow the love that has made you strong to continue the story, and in time have a family of your own and a home. Just a couple of words here son, always remember that war is failure. WAR SHOULD Never happen. It hurts too much and is too hard to stop. Any war must stop before it starts. Everything that happens after a war starts is bad. Anything reported about that war will be sad news. Do not use war as an excuse, to hate any race or nationality,remember war will end and forgiveness is hard I must apologize my Grandson, for the state of the world you will live in. The Climate is crazy, war is threatening everywhere. Disease and famine threaten this overpopulated planet. Humankind has lost the co-operative spirit and individual nations are moving to explore space for their own purposes. As in the days of Columbus, territory in space will have a national identity. Take time out to see the movie The Mission, this is one of Humankinds great works of art. Inflation is taking a toll on the pocketbooks of the world. We cannot as a people accept the unacceptable from government. When I was young and full of dreams, Kurt Winters wrote a song sung by The Guess Who, about a hand me down world. Well, the one I will leave is worse than the world of my life. Again, My apologies. I repeat to you that it is a mistake to think about war as an option. Most Important son is to understand that there must be a reduction in the number of people on planet earth. How this will happen I do not know. I do know that looking at problems like Lake mead or overpopulation, war, pollution, and inflation, and hoping it goes away is not an adequate response. Son, until your God draws the last living breath from you. Participate in any and every way you can. Change the world for good. You are the creation of a kind and loving God. |
