“What you have, my friend, is a soul sickness.”
He appeared quite serious, pulling on the hairs of his bushy white mustache, and sipping from a cup of tea in the old office building he’d converted into his business space, known as, “Bill’s Spiritual Counseling.”
The soul-snatcher glared at me from the dusty street corner with fiery orange eyes, his hands cupped over his mouth because of the early morning cold.
I had been out late that night, and I was returning home a little tipsy.
“Hello there,” he said. “Looking for your fix?”
The monks say that without an absolute zeal for God, religion becomes just another opiate. This is referring to Marx’s famous statement, that religion is “the opiate of the people.” Who’s correct – Marx or the monks?
How can you know what perfect harmony is if you’ve never suffered?
It was like that for Adam and Eve, as they strolled through the Garden, bathing in sunlight and fresh air, at peace with all creatures.
It was a full moon that night, a bright and powerful moon
that beamed blinding light onto the blankets of snow that covered the hills.
Here’s a piece of flash fiction I wrote a few years ago about supernatural visions and the fanaticism they may cause:
Here’s a piece of flash fiction I wrote a couple of years ago that, I suppose, is semi-autobiographical. It’s about loneliness and the yearning for human connection.
Here’s a piece of flash fiction I dreamed up while sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic one day. Teleportation would be great, right? But I imagine that, if it was made available, it wouldn’t quite go as planned: Continue reading