Little Bobby knelt and prayed every night by his bed with the moon shining on him from high in the sky outside his window.
We are, we have always been.
Holding council, ever unchanging.
As the pleasant warmth returns, the discussion continues where it left off when the cold time came.
Old Abarak weighed in first, as usual. â€œWe were once part of a great society, A KINGDOM on a mountain; we WERE the mountain, that was the expanse of our kind…Together as ONE!â€
The elders nearby murmured in agreement.
â€œNothing could touch or harm us. Harmony and peace for ages.”
“Then one day… One horrible day…â€
The little dog was curious.
What was that smell? It had no experience with it. Was it food? Maybe- but it didnâ€™t smell like the food in the dish, the dry stale chunks that it learned was all it must eat when in the warm place. Not from the trashcan, always full of fascinating morsels, but from the cold metal dish on the floor. Only eat from the cold metal dish.
The coffee sat.
Steam rose from its surface, he could still smell it where he lay on the floor.
He was numb, except for a terrible tightness in his chest. Also he was paralyzed.
At least, this is what he had heard being paralyzed was like. Nothing on his body was listening to his commands to move. It felt like being wrapped up in a tight mothâ€™s cocoon, somewhat comforting but a bit tough to breathe.
Tough to breathe, that brought him back to the present. What happened? One minute he was making coffee. Rinsing out a cup, pouring it…
The next there was this flash of white light inside his head and he was staring up at the ceiling from the vantage point of floor tile. Read more