Precious Pockets

Saturday, May 9, 2020

Wednesday, April 15, 2020

Story Time - New Ebook on the Block

Newest short story from Pamela's Petals.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B086WZ9S5Q

Excerpt:

"You like'em corruptible," she acerbically commented, remembering how his sister Eve messed with her head.

He shook his head, "Nothing was done against your will."

"What will, Chamber? All my life, I've always bent to everyone else's will but my own."

"You wouldn't be who you are, today, if that held true. I know you never connected with anyone else because of that night with me."

"Boy, are you full of it."

"Stop being defensive. Time is too short and you need to be ready."

"For what?"

"To make a choice. The world you were exposed to that night is about to collide with the one you know as yours. They're not satisfied with your societal throw-aways anymore. They want it all back."

"Wait a minute…"

"You either become family or become food. There's no in-between," he asserted.

"Are you serious?" She was incredulous.

"You once said you wanted to be in my family."

"And you discouraged me, rightfully so, I thought."

"When they have it their way, life won't be sustainable for humans."

Blight (The observer)

This #poem is an observation from another world, perhaps from within this one.

Blight

You're Not the Tops

I've been here a long time. I've stayed many places and I've chosen where I may live, be it to your asset or your fabricated detriment. Compared to all of my locations, I find this place to be the most sullied, spoiled, and taken for granted when it comes to its inhabitants. There are throngs of you milling about believing you are so entitled – your actions so unbridled – that you've become the blight to your own crop.

I've had the privilege of integrating with your perception of the best and I must tell you that I am not impressed. Your societal standards have been fished from the sewer and your gall prompts you to set them haughtily above on a universal marquee as laws that have poisoned bloodlines across your questionable borders.

Well, the time has come for me to leave and I shed no sad tears. I've made my observations and should inform you that your poison cistern will no longer sustain you. You have forfeited your self-appointed rank as top of the food chain. With your enslaving, petty ideals, you've managed to extend and create wastelands beyond your archaic precepts. You breed adversity where there need be only peace and it will no longer be tolerated. This is a note to the deliberately clueless. The foundation of your private occupation must be extinguished.

Pamela Benjamin