short story
The First and Last
I dreamt of a night lit sky that shined like no other in Bethlehem, Israel. It was cold and had snowed, but the moon glistened within each flake. There was also in the midst of the North a great star set forth to follow where wise men traveled. I saw fruit that had many branches and the vine thereof was everlasting. An owl knew its path by flight and landed on a barn as the sun began to rise.
By DeSeanna E. Morgan4 years ago in Earth
How Uniswap Clone Script overcomes the risks of centralization
Decentralization has been one of the center region of the blockchain innovation. At the point when individuals talk about blockchain, they frequently quote decentralization alongside straightforwardness, security, and unchanging nature. Nonetheless, the presentation of digital currency trades has vigorously thought twice about decentralization. Endeavors have been in progress to guarantee that the virtue of decentralization isn't compromised for any sign of the blockchain or cryptographic money.
By BlockchainX4 years ago in Earth
Leopard
"Well, calling names won't catch dinner," said the Ethiopian. "The long and the little of it is that we don't match our backgrounds. I'm going to take Baviaan's advice. He told me I ought to change; and as I've nothing to change except my skin I'm going to change that." "What to?" said the Leopard, tremendously excited. "To a nice working blackish-brownish colour, with a little purple in it, and touches of slaty-blue. It will be the very thing for hiding in hollows and behind trees." So he changed his skin then and there, and the Leopard was more excited than ever; he had never seen a man change his skin before. "But what about me?" he said, when the Ethiopian had worked his last little finger into his fine new black skin. "You take Baviaan's advice too. He told you to go into spots." "So I did," said the Leopard. "I went into other spots as fast as I could. I went into this spot with you, and a lot of good it has done me." "Oh," said the Ethiopian, "Baviaan didn't mean spots in South Africa. He meant spots on your skin." "What's the use of that?" said the Leopard. "Think of Giraffe," said the Ethiopian, "or if you prefer stripes, think of Zebra. They find their spots and stripes give them perfect satisfaction." "Umm," said the Leopard. "I wouldn't look like Zebra not for ever so." "Well, make up your mind," said the Ethiopian, "because I'd hate to go hunting without you, but I must if you insist on looking like a sun-flower against a tarred fence." "I'll take spots, then," said the Leopard; "but don't make 'em too vulgar-big. I wouldn't look like giraffe not for ever so." I'll make 'em with the tips of my fingers," said the Ethiopian. "There's plenty of black left on my skin still. Stand over!" Then the Ethiopian put his five fingers close together (there was plenty of black left on his new skin still) and pressed them all over the Leopard, and wherever the five fingers touched they left five little black marks, all close together. You can see them on any Leopard's skin you like, Best Beloved. Sometimes the fingers slipped and the marks got a little blurred; but if you look closely at any Leopard now you will see that there are always five spots off five fat black finger-tips. "Now you are a beauty!" said the Ethiopian. "You can lie out on the bare ground and look like a heap of pebbles. You can lie out on the naked rocks and look like a piece of pudding-stone. You can lie out on a leafy branch and look like sunshine sifting through the leaves; and you can lie right across the centre of a path and look like nothing in particular. Think of that and purr!" "But if I'm all this," said the Leopard, "why didn't you go spotty too?" "Oh, plain black's best," said the Ethiopian. "Well, calling names won't catch dinner," said the Ethiopian. "The long and the little of it is that we don't match our backgrounds. I'm going to take Baviaan's advice. He told me I ought to change; and as I've nothing to change except my skin I'm going to change that." "Now come along and we'll see if we can't get even with Mr. One-Two-Three-Where's-your-Breakfast!" So they went away and lived happily ever afterward, Best Beloved. That is all. Oh, now and then you will hear grown-ups say, "Can the Ethiopian change his skin or the Leopard his spots?" I don't think even grown-ups would keep on saying such a silly thing if the Leopard and the Ethiopian hadn't done it once do you? But they will never do it again, Best Beloved. They are quite contented as they are.
By Mintoo kumar Yadav4 years ago in Earth
The Owl Of Destiny
Hungry but determined, Herman began his long walk from the market to his father's barn. He had gone there to get some medicine for his dad to no avail. Disappointed, he wanted nothing more than to get home quickly. It was getting late, but observing the sunset while partaking on his journey was therapeutic in itself. The Sun portrayed a radiant mix of violet and orange. Although Herman had a far distance to go, the vibrant colors of the Sun filled his body with energy, and a warm feeling of love swept throughout his entire body. Herman began pondering the human condition. "If we are all a part of a so-called supreme consciousness, how is it that we are all so different?" he thought. Then it hit him. "We are not as different as we believe we are. We all experience the same range of emotions at some point in our lives and share similar senses of this existence; via taste, touch, smell, hearing, and eyesight of this natural world. What if pure consciousness is nothing more than a formless entity experiencing life on a tangible physical plane simultaneously through the eyes of each of us?" Herman thought to himself. "It is a concept I truly will never be able to perfectly articulate. Language in itself limits expression." Herman concluded.
By Anthony Weir 4 years ago in Earth
Key
"Key" A knock at the door. It echoed through the vast corridors. The door stood 11 feet high. Engraved with Hyroglyphs. Everything in the library was Mahogany. Solomon' heard the knock from the back of his study. Light they were. Still ,, this disturbed Solomons' flow. He had grown so sensitive this winter. Winter was the only season. Solomon' had no recollection prior to to what could be estimated to have been maybe 18 months back. Time was lost. Solomon' spilled a beaker filled with a neon red elixir. He let out a scowling yell.
By Lamar Shawn4 years ago in Earth
Night Rides
There was a chill to the night. Not just in the weather, but in the unsettling feeling of being alone in a land full of unknown nocturnal spectators. Coyotes howled and yipped in the distance, the sound of hoof beats made a continuous rhythm that matched my heartbeat, almost emphasizing it. I felt the heat of the horse’s warmed muscles through his shedding winter coat under my legs, like the warmth of the early spring day faded. Stars brightened the sky, but in the darkened woods it made no difference. There was a ranch house in the distance behind some trees, a beacon of light in an otherwise sea of darkness. The horse snorted out of excitement as he picked up his pace as we got closer to home. I was sure he also felt the same eeriness I felt. As we came around the corner of the dirt road we were following, he stopped suddenly.
By Jessica R Faunce4 years ago in Earth
Blessings from Bubo
They say that, when one experiences repetition in numbers or in visits from the wildlife nearby, whether in the conscious or subconscious state, the Universe offers these synchronicities as a message needed for that being; something surreal and life-altering. What we take from those visits, if we pay close enough attention to details and the intense feelings of these momentous occasions is up to our divine interpretation, if we attempt to interpret them. Not everybody does.
By Jessica Biedermann4 years ago in Earth
Why you Shouldn't Eat Cookies in Summer
It was almost midnight — a balmy summer night with velvety purple sky and our mother star scratching along just barely below the horizon. Flickering fireflies were tumbling about among shrubs and trees. The perfect night to sit around a crackling campfire with friends, light chitchat, silly jokes and endless sharing of fond memories and stories. I could almost feeling the aroma of roasted marshmellows, potatoes and stick bread lingering in the air. Only — there were no friends. Lockdown. Even mild and vividly colored midsummer nights can give you a chill without company. But why not party anyway! If it was the end of the world as we knew it, so what? I sat on my terrace, and I wasn’t alone, after all. My dogs snore beside me and I was joined by my good pals Pinot Grigio and Cookie Jar. Cheers to the world!.
By Stefan Thiesen4 years ago in Earth
High in the Pine
Absentmindedly I labored my feet into the garage with a bag meant for the recycling bin. The side door to the trash and recycling bins was thin and at that time of year, little defense against the biting cold on the other side. I flipped on the switch next to the door and took for granted the warm light that hung over my right ear as I leaned out. My body was stubbornly attached to the higher temperature of the garage as I hugged the door frame and struggled to deliver the recycling without any commitment to my task. Turning back toward the warmth I heard a thud and screech. I suspected the source of the noise, turned off the warm outdoor light, and ducked behind the door. I opened it slowly to see what I could see in the darkness. A screech over my head came so loudly that I cowered behind the side door and closed it to thwart anything that may want to follow me behind it. I paused to listen and opened the door again. In front of me were the recycling and garbage bins and just behind that is the fence that separated our yard from the neighbors. On their side, the copper yard ornaments that looked like giant metal daisies were spinning slowly and things seemed quiet again. I looked around in the dark and the twin pines in the neighbor’s yard were still and constant. Their presence gave the impression of authority in the dark the way they towered above our single-story houses. I waited for something to break the silence and just as I was all but convinced that what I heard earlier was gone, I was answered two-fold. A screech from on high came sailing down to my ears and my mind went instantly to my little dog. An owl can carry off a small dog if it feels so inclined and while I don’t know how likely the possibility is, I had heard enough speculation on the topic to ignite my concern. For a moment I feared I had walked in on an active hunt but then I heard the other. A higher and fearful screech came from my level on the ground, but nowhere I could see. I ran inside and grabbed a flashlight. I could make out a silhouette high in the leftward pine and illuminated the shape. A white-faced barn owl looked at me. Shocked, I lowered my flashlight. I instantly felt like I had done something wrong. Not shameful but incorrect, like I robbed the owl his protection of night. I assumed the owl was male from his low screech and position on high, but I had no way of knowing. Of my knowledge of barn owls, which was not a lot, one thing I knew was that this beautiful bird was far from home. Something was wrong because he was not meant to stop in my suburban neighborhood. Hardly any mice to hunt and unless they preferred small dogs and cats, they were halted by circumstance rather than choice. The second answer from the silence happened north of where I was standing. A high and desperate screech sounded from the neighboring yard and my feet stumbled forward to try to get a view. I could barely clear a cheek over the solid wooden fence and I decided instead to climb the recycling bin. I was not prepared for what I saw. A lump of white and brown feathers lay on the edge of a dormant brick planter a foot from the fence that separated us. I wouldn’t have known it was an owl if it hadn’t screeched a desperate cry. This owl was in trouble for sure, one of her eyes was half open and she looked dazed. I could see no other injuries but I can only imagine what would have stopped her. Even so, her screech was not a cry for help but more like an answer to a question. I decided it was a female because of the pitch of her screech and nothing more. Perhaps I was looking for a parallel to draw between what I was seeing and what I was going through. I always did place myself in the shoes of the main character if it were a woman, without hesitation. She was plainly hurt and needed to be rescued. But rescue is a human idea and it occurred to me that any help I could bestow may be more of a hindrance than a solution in her eyes. However, help rang from above as the male screeched down to her and again, she gave a wounded reply. I became hyper-alert and was called to the present as I stopped trying to insert myself and thought. What does help look like from an owl? The owl sat high in the pine was at the best vantage point to observe and anticipate any movement necessary to protect her. He called down to her continuously, checking in and remaining steady with the best support he could provide. What I was seeing was behavior akin to love and care and protection and steadiness as best I could understand it from my human ignorance. My eyes welled. I felt the warning in his screech and a duty not to interfere. I did the only thing I could that did not prompt an inner battle and went to the neighbor’s front door. There was an old man living there with a deeply unpleasant wife. They mostly kept to themselves and my interactions with him did not go beyond offering him assistance when his car broke down in the neighborhood one day. I knocked on his door and informed him that a barn owl was downed in his backyard and not to let his dogs out. I asked if I could assist and find a rescue center or haven to call. He rubbed his chin and inclined to the ground and said, “They’re pretty tough birds, best let them care for their own. If they are still there in the morning, I’ll call someone.” I was surprised by his lack of concern but strangely, I trusted him. His age told my impulses to quiet down. His calm spoke to my anxiety. I still felt a pull in my chest but truly felt like nothing was the best thing to do. I looked up at the male swaying on the branch of the pine as the wind picked up and said a quiet prayer for him as he watched over her. I felt like I had seen the most sophisticated story play out in from of me without words or any pretext and walked inside my home with an insight I couldn’t yet identify with clarity. But I knew I had learned something. I went to check in on the owls an hour later and they were gone.
By Elizabeth Sweden4 years ago in Earth
