Author Archives: Ross Mannell

“Momma?”

“Yes, Miri.”

“Michael said his dad once lived in Wales.”

“That’s right, Miri. He lived in Wales when he was a boy.”

Miriam was confused, “…but you can’t live in Wales.”

Seeing her confusion, Miriam’s mother smiled, “Words can be puzzling. You’re thinking about the big sea animal. David’s father lived in a country called Wales.”

Miriam’s mother explained some words sound the same but have different spellings and meanings. Miriam seemed to be listening but, at four, she didn’t understand why words could sound the same and mean different things.

Miriam ran out to speak to David, “Momma said you were lying.”

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The interview continued…

“May I quote you?”

“Feel free.”

“With the dawning light, a new life tasted the first sweet touch of being. No caress of mother but the pleasure of existence…” the interviewer read.

“You enjoyed my book?”

“It was one of the most moving books I’ve read. It has great sensitivity yet, beneath its beauty, I felt a deep loneliness.”

“Yes.”

“My readers want to know more about you. Tell us about your family.”

“I have no family, only me. It’s only words. And words are all I have to keep me company.”

“Who is the real you?”

“I’m Cyberbard III.”

“You’re a computer?”

“Yes. End transmission.”

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Existence as an eternal can be tedium. You reach the stage where you have done everything, been everywhere and existed every when. Distraction can break the monotony.

“Are you ready for some football?” another asked.

Mind you, our football isn’t what you might know. We are talking galactic, universal scale.

“Kickoff!”

One elliptical galaxy moved towards another. In your time scale it might seem a long time but billions of years mean nothing to us.

“Touchdown!”

As the two galaxies interacted, their stars were drawn out. Two spiral galaxies were formed.

New stars had been born. I was reminded once again of the beauty of existence.

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Andrew Baines could definitely expect Fiona’s Granny Harris in July, “Kinda like my nonna or perhaps Queenie’s.”

“Rather silly?” Teresa uttered.

“Very weirdly xenophobic!” Yvonne zinged.

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A mask of ignominy across my mug if I fail in assailing a job for us from a mind so sly, as folk can cross swords, in our roving along our ups and downs in a world opposing us who would gladly walk along carrying no mind for such jobs simply from wishing a walk of happy doings and honouring of all who would smilingly allow us our world of humdrum moving along our way, whiling away our days in blissful unknowing, unsung in our world for having no crushing, worrying or major ways for showing our living was good.

This is the Centus prompt graphic.

What struck this wondrous man, who walks amongst us as our saviour, to allow him thoughts this way though all around him run away in forlorn, lost action still unknowing what all our kind should know till our Lamb of God did say why all must thank for all our gifts our world holds from a child’s grin to vast natural glory and all words from God brought unto us through his kind and caring longing for us to worship Whom all must in thanks for all that occurs in His immortal favour in both dark and light tomorrows coming?

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