Captian's Log Above and Below 10 Jun 201910 Jun 2019 As is the case with strange things, a history is hard to provide. This letter is unsigned, unaddressed, and missing preceding pages. I know not the whole story, I only…
Captian's Log 2019: Pentecost 9 Jun 2019 Happy Pentecost to all my brothers and sisters. Today I was musing on the connection between the Tower of Babel and the gift of tongues as presented in Acts 2.…
Captian's Log The Worth of a Man 8 Jun 2019 Considering worth, there seems to be two types: There is a worth of things regarding use, that is, a tool’s usefulness and worth are the same, and there is a…
Captian's Log Short Poem: Under the Sun 7 Jun 2019 Though beauty surround me everywhere, and all the birds are singing in the air, though far the woes of all my life are scattered, gone is all my strife, it…
Captian's Log Short Poem: Burned Ghost 6 Jun 2019 How silently the time slips by and when the hour’s past how came I to this midnight end? my soul burnt up in ash? A blackened thing unlike myself, and…
Captian's Log Can You See Me? 5 Jun 2019 “Can you see me?” he whispered. She continued with her chores silently, gliding like a dancer through the house. He followed her, broken, sometimes whispering, sometimes shouting, begging to be…
Captian's Log Augury 4 Jun 20194 Jun 2019 Proceeding out of the local grocery store and across the parking lot, I happened to glance northward over the wooded horizon. Above the giant pine trees danced a hawk and…
Captian's Log Short Poem: Love of Dreams 3 Jun 2019 No man can understand the ever-shifting sand. We see them in our dreams; the sight never redeems. Still blackened hearts will beat, broken and incomplete. No thought may ever delve…
Captian's Log The Werewolf Epic (Joining Soul to Soul) 2 Jun 2019 Read: The Werewolf Epic (Well, this is a rather long time coming) The Addition: The werewolf oozed not blood from the deep wound, but some sick slime accompanied coiled entrails which…
Captian's Log Short Story: Three Empty Shells 1 Jun 2019 Please Read: Three Empty Shells Started this story yesterday: The old man sat cross-legged on his couch, three rising plums of incense mixing their smoke in the air. The white threads…
Tale Told 