Part Six: Colds, Conversations, and Capital Fun of a …Hazardous… Sort

“Why are they cruel to me?”

Chapter Two
Kira and Symphonies

Rain rhythmically pit-pats on the kitchen window. A girl of about thirteen years old sits on the window seat in the dining room and stares at it. To most people, Kira Stacy Benson would look depressed. Who stares blankly at a window on a rainy day?

Kira does.

She is creating a symphony in her head. Kira can't hear a sound without making it music.

Once upon a time (it was around the first of August) a group of adventurous campers, and their pets, set out on a short weekend excursion. They packed up their trailer with all the necessary food supplies- popcorn, steak, Twinkies, diet Dr. Pepper- and journeyed down the interstate to the deep, dark forests of Northern Arizona.

We are so weak,
so selfish,
so cold.
We have known evil,
and hatred,
and sin.
Therefore, we are nothing. Beyond hope, beyond saving, beyond ever becoming what we could be.
Beyond ever being loved.

One could have said that of us
but He didn't.

He loved us.
He loved us anyway.

The world is so ruined,
so misguided,
so cold.
It has known evil,
and hatred,
and sin.
Therefore, it is nothing. Beyond hope. Beyond saving, beyond ever becoming what it could be.
Beyond love.

Many people who are great will tell you that one of the reasons they have succeeded is because of the people who inspired or influenced them early on in their lives. Usually, they go back to things their teachers or people with authority over them said at one time. This can be a very good thing. Many people have succeeded due to something that someone once said or showed them. But, this can also be a very harmful thing. When people with the wrong kinds of views get into positions of leadership, they are often able to adversely affect people who come in contact with them.

Agatha Agnes McFearson McMervey stood silhouetted in the doorway, a cloud of green-sponge-rollered rage. She opened her mouth again to repeat her thundered question.
“I said, WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?” the window behind were Mr. Smapps usually sat, shattered and pieces of glass covered the ground. A hand clutching a bent scalpel appeared on top of the desk and the science teacher appeared looking like he had been suddenly hit by a passing freight train. He straightened himself, adjusted his glasses, and cleared his throat.

A lone figure sat hunched over a table in the corner of them dark room.

The only light was emited from a laptop in front of the person who was tapping away with the mindless intensity of a machine.

Occasionally, the endless tapping of the keys stopped, the Writer leaned forward, examining what was writted on the faintly glowing screen.

A few strokes of the mouse, a few words deleted, imperfection replaced for perfection, in the Writer's eyes.

For an endless eternity the only sound in the room once more was the tapping of the keys.

I was in the car at night on Christmas Eve going to Mass. I looked out the window and saw a star. Around this star were clouds tinted with red from the lights below. I thought about the Child Jesus as the star and about the lights of the world below trying to outshine this beauty. God is the source of all beauty. But the world tries to outshine Him.

The rain starts to pitter-patter every house's rooftop. Pit-pat, begins the steady rhythm. Then it begins to grow to something loud. Something frightening.

Chapter One
Show Filly

"I am beautiful. I am magnificent. I am the most amazing horse in the world."

"Wow. Flashy, she is," a plump man in the stands says. He is dressed in a business suit with a jacket too small.

The creature he is addressing is a palomino mare, appears to be about two years old. Beautiful, she is. Pure white man with a dappled golden body; a long white blaze and three white socks. Yes, she is attractive. She is in a leather halter being held by a groom.