The Cross And Pinecone Part-Three

By Rod Jones Artist-Writer

From the end of part Two

“John, I can’t believe what I’m looking at. Did you read the title of this book? Of course you did.” If there was such a thing as an enraptured look, it was written all over Mary’s expression. She just stared at the cover and read the words to herself, but John, Claudine, and Jeffrey could see her lips moving. She kept reading the title and other words on the cover repeatedly for the longest time.

After a good two long minutes, Mary looked up at John, “It’s,— It’s, the book, it’s — it’s called: The Cross And The Pinecone. I can’t believe such a book could ever exist.” Mary looked back at the cover of the book and studied it for at least another 30 seconds. Then she looked up at John. Her look this time was a little more serious-minded. “Did you see the name of the author, you must have? This book was written by a woman named Miriam McKinney. John, that’s our last name. I think there was an older couple at our wedding with the name of McKinney.”

Beginning Part Three

John was filled with pride that was all wrapped up in his devotion and love for Mary.

“Mary, in all honesty, I didn’t really pay attention to who the author of this book was. I now see, it’s authored by Miriam McKinney. I didn’t even pay attention to that, but the author has the same last name as us. And it’s ironic that the first name of the author is Miriam, which is kind of like Mary. We never really did find out why both of our last names are McKinney. All I could ever find out is they named you Mary McKinney. I absolutely have no idea how I ended up with the same last name as you. The staff secretary at the orphanage said there was some sort of paper mixup. I never pursued it further. I remember thinking to myself if I were to end up marrying you, Mary, we wouldn’t have to worry about you changing your last name. For some unknown reason to me, even when we were kids, I always thought you and I would get married, very happily married I might add. I don’t think I inwardly wished for that, but now that we are married, well, it’s certainly been a blessing to me. I can’t wait for you to read the book and tell me what it’s all about.”

“OH John, it was meant to be, married we are and married, we will always be. I’m going to take my time reading this book. I can’t imagine a book with a title like, The Cross and The Pinecone, and another thing that’s very interesting, it was written by a woman named Miriam McKinney.”

Nearly a month had passed since Mary celebrated her birthday and the day John gave her the Cross and The Pinecone book, her very special birthday gift. On that day, Mary told John, along with Claudine and Jeffrey Stoots, her bosses from the distillery, that she was going to take her time reading the book. She told everyone that she wanted to absorb every word and explore its deeper meaning, and how that book, with its mysterious title, found its way to her. She very excitedly shared how the author of the book had the same last name as her and her husband.

Claudine and Jeffrey Stoots truly cared deeply for Mary, and of course, John too. In fact, after John and Mary came to work for them at their distillery, they did everything they could for them. When John and Mary announced to them that they wanted to get married, it was Claudine who pulled everything together and made sure they had a wonderful wedding. Two of the guests that showed up were an older couple, and their last name was McKinney. Mary saw Claudine having what appeared to be a serious discussion with them. After the wedding, Mary asked Claudine who that couple was and Claudine basically told her that they were just a nice couple that wanted to go to a wedding and somehow showed up at yours. Claudine was not telling Mary the truth. She knew who they were, in fact, she was the one who invited them to the wedding.

Claudine and her husband Jeffrey knew that it was only a matter of time before Mary re-remembered that couple that showed up at her wedding. Mary was more than curious to find out why they had the same last name as her and her husband.

One evening after all the distillery workers left for the day, including John and Mary, Jeffrey went into the office, sat down across from Claudine and asked her, “Claudine, you and I both know that sooner or later Mary is gonna want to know more about the McKinney’s, why were they at their wedding and who are those folks. They’re especially gonna wanna know why you seem to be having a serious chat with them. I know Mary was watching you from across the room.”

Subscribe now

“Quite frankly, Jeffrey, I just don’t know what I’m gonna do. It’s extremely awkward, and now that Mary has that book written by Miriam McKinney she’s gonna be even more curious.”

“Well, I reckon it’s best to just be honest and lay all your cards on the table. Mary ain’t no dumb girl. Quite frankly, I think she needs to know, sure enough, can’t hurt at least I don’t think it can, can it?”

“ You know, I know you’re right Jeffrey. It just seems so awkward, and when John found that book that really made things complicated. But I do know that book is going to be very meaningful to Mary, and in that case I’m very happy for her, and I guess sooner or later the story needs to be told, and I’m not talking about the story in that damn book.”

Jeffrey, leaning back on the chair to the point where he almost fell off, just looked at Claudine with a bit of an awkward smile and said, “ You can bet your last dollar on that one, honey. Best if you just get it all out now. Besides, I think Mary should know. What I would be thinking about is, how is that gonna work out for John? He has no relationships there, other than his last name, which I know when I’ve talked to him privately he can be pretty sore about that especially when he can’t figure out why he and Mary have the same last name, and no one at the orphanage even tried to help him understand.”

“I know youan right Jeffrey. I should start by having a good talk with Mrs. McKinney, probably should speak with both her and her husband. Maybe when we know Mary has gotten a good part of that book read.”

As Mary promised to herself and everyone at her birthday party, she was going to take her time reading The Cross and The Pinecone book. She was doing her best to give John a summary of what she was reading, what she’s learning, and what it means to her spiritually. She desperately wanted to explain to John what she learned by reading, but she herself was trying to understand what the book was really saying, especially the vocabulary it was using.

John was outside of their home, talking to a couple of the other employees from the distillery that also lived on the property. Mostly just idle chitchat, but they wondered why Mary wasn’t coming out after work. They were especially confused with the fact that she wasn’t out walking amongst the trees and selecting what she used to say to everyone, “ I’m hunting down the perfect pinecone.”

John did not know exactly how to tell their fellow employees what she was actually doing. He was pretty sure she would not want to tell anyone about her book and why she was so dedicated to reading it. It became a little bit awkward for John when they wanted to make sure that she wasn’t sick or possibly brooding over an argument that they may have had. At this point, John felt a bit cornered and responded to the fellow employees simply by saying.

“Mary is perfectly healthy and no, we’ve not been arguing. She’s just taking some time for herself to reflect on how she was raised. I decided to give her some space. I know I need it sometimes and I also know you all need it too, so let’s all of us not try to start untruthful rumors. Let the poor girl have some peace and quiet on to herself. Besides, you got me to talk to now. Do any of you have an interesting new joke to tell? Maybe something about the spirits that live in the bottle of spirits that we all fill.

Mary was reading The Cross and the Pinecone book much faster than she intended. In fact, she was running into words that she simply did not know what they meant. She thought to herself, “When I go back to work tomorrow, I gotta ask Claudine if she has one of those dictionaries I can borrow.”

Mary heard the door open and she knew it was John. She closed the book and put it down in front of her, still holding it with both hands. She knew John was going to ask her, “How is it goin?”

John closed the door behind him, and before it was completely shut, he looked over at Mary and predictably said to her, “How is it going Mary? I see you have the book closed in front of you, is it going OK?”

“Yes, I guess so. I don’t understand a lot of the words. I don’t know what they mean. I’m going to ask Claudine if she has a Dictionary I can borrow.”

“That seems like a really good idea Mary, but is there anything you’ve learned in what you’ve read so far?”

“Well, I’ve read further into the book that I intended to. The more I read the more questions I had, but I guess that’s because I didn’t understand a lot of the words. The person that wrote this book, Miriam McKinney had something to do with the new thought movement. I guess that started in the early 1900s. After I got through those chapters, the book started to get closer to what I really wanted to learn. It seems like there is a strong connection between pine trees, the Bible, and apparently Christian teachings. There’s also mention of the pineal gland, which I guess is in our brain somehow. I don’t know if I will ever be able to understand everything in this book. I did learn that pinecones can represent rebirth or resurrection. I’m still trying to figure all that out. I may need to have someone help me better understand what I’m reading. I’m sure that will come over time.”

John sat down by Mary at the table and gave her a hug. “I wish I was smart, I wish I was smart enough to help you get through this book. But maybe the person who wrote it, meant for it to be something that you learn by simply reading it but maybe reading it over time you know, kind of like the Bible. What you know is, I’m not all that familiar with it, and I know you are not either. That wasn’t something we were really taught when we were growing up. I remember every once in a while, a preacher would visit the orphanage and talk to us, but I didn’t really pay much attention and I didn’t really understand or probably appreciate what the heck he was saying. Maybe we both should have.”

Morning came early; especially for Mary. She did not sleep all that well cause she kept thinking about the book. Her and John had their morning coffee and some breakfast, they didn’t really speak all that much. Mary was deep in self-reflective thoughts. Reading The Cross And The Pinecone made her realize that she really did not have much of a religious upbringing. The book made her feel very self-conscious because she could not truly understand some of the words that she was reading and she did not know how they should be thought about.

John and Mary walked over to the distillery, and went to their workstations. Mary’s intention was to go to Claudine‘s office during a break and find out if she could borrow a Dictionary.

Mary took her break and went into Claudine’s office and asked her if she had a Dictionary she could borrow? “Yes Mary, of course, let me get it for you.

I do want to tell you something that I have been looking for the right time to share with you. You know the older couple that was at your wedding. The one that has the last name as you, and they also have the last name of the woman who wrote the book you’re reading. Maybe when you get off of work you can come to my office and we’ll have a nice little talk about all of that.”

This is the end of part 3. Part one and part two can be read easily in the newsletter at:

Thought Row Vignettes

I write warm, reflective short stories and essays to help you escape the hustle and the scroll. Human-written. No AI slop. Navy veteran. See my Receptive Abstract Patternism Artwork Here: https://rodjonesartist.com/

I will be making the entire story available in a special area on my newsletter. Once it’s completed there you will be able to read the story in its entirety.

The short stories and essays that appear on the Thought Row Vignettes newsletter are written entirely by me, Rod Jones, Artist‑Writer, with human hand and imagination, no AI assistance. Any imperfections in grammar or punctuation are authentically mine. In a web where automated systems now generate much of the content, this is a small space for human‑made fiction and reflection, one human sharing stories with another.

Middle C - A Love Story in the Key of Doubt

Part One

Rod Jones Artist-Writer

Sunset Boulevard, Hollywood, CA. 11 PM or so.

“Hey, get away from my car, what do you think you’re doing? Jerk!”

“I was putting a note on your car.”

“Why? I don’t respond to guys who put notes on my car. I think they’re dangerous. In fact, I don’t respond to guys that are not formally introduced to me. So save yourself some trouble, take that note off my car and get the hell away from me. Better yet, just get in your car and drive away. I know the bouncer in the club and I’m sure he would be more than happy to come out here and beat the crap out of you if he thinks you are a threat to me.”

“Wait a minute, back up, you’re interpreting this situation pretty much the way I would expect from a girl who just came out of that club, I might add a notorious club here on Sunset Strip. That’s probably the most pick-up joint in Hollywood.”

“You don’t know anything about me and I sure as hell don’t need to tell you anything about me. There was a reason I dropped into this club and it wasn’t to meet guys. Now, tell me why you’re putting a note on my car or I will go in and have a bouncer come out here. Also, who the hell do you think you are disapproving of me because I just happened to be coming out of that club? You definitely have me all wrong, totally wrong, and this is coming from a guy who is putting a note on my car.”

“Ah yes, the note on your car. I put a dent in it.”

“You what, you put a dent in my car, why? How? What were you doing so close to my car?”

“See those lights on, the ones at the top of this building. I was dropping off some very important papers that needed to be signed for one of my clients. There wasn’t a lot of room and I was under the gun to get those papers to them before they left the office. There wasn’t a lot of room, I admit, I’m not that great at parallel parking. But I managed to get my car behind yours and in front of the car behind me. When I came out to leave, I drove my car up onto the curb slightly. I think I was irritated by what went on when I had to get those papers signed, and their attitude toward me. I turned my wheel the wrong way, fell off the curb and banged into your car. It’s not in my nature just to forget it and take off, so I was putting a note under the wiper blade letting you know my name and my phone number and letting you know that I put a dent in your car. It’s not a very big dent, you probably would not have noticed it at least not for a while, but I was responsible so the note was to let you know that I was the one who put the dent in your car and I apologize for doing that.”

“Show me the dent, but don’t get close to me, cause I don’t trust you. Stay back and I will read your note.”

“Good, that’s a good idea. I’m surprised you came out of that joint alone. Weren’t you there trying to connect with some guy?”

“No! Not that it’s any of your business, but my brother is a bartender there. He hit me up for some money so he could pay his rent. Not that I can afford to give him any, because I lost my job this morning. I would never go into that place if it wasn’t to help out my brother, that’s not the kind of person I am. Again, not that it’s any of your damn business. I love the way you made a judgment. I’m not even dressed like a girl who would want to get picked up in that joint, obviously you can see that, can’t you?”

“ No, I guess I was just making a judgment. When you approached me, your demeanor was hostile and accusatory. I guess if guys saw you coming out of that club and they knew this was your car, they probably would put a note on it trying to make a connection, and probably thinking the same thing I thought, I guess. I sincerely apologize.”

“ Well I’m not dressed like a bimbo, because I’m not one. I’m not trampy and all the other words you guys have a tendency to use referring to the kind of girls that hang out in clubs like this. I was genuinely on a mission and I wanted to get out of there as quickly as I could. And I was definitely irritable because of the pressure my brother put on me to give him some money. I was especially irritated because he wasn’t too terribly concerned that I lost my job today and he didn’t seem to be too terribly concerned as to the additional pressure he was putting on me.The last thing I needed or was even remotely interested in was some jerk putting a note under my wiper blade with no doubt, some lewd and suggestive comments. Especially in this part of town and especially outside of this club. Everyone in Hollywood knows that this is the premier pick-up joint. Apparently you even had that thought when you saw me.”

“My name is Nicholas Carver, outside of my business world, my friends and family call me Nick.

Subscribe now

I have an idea and I hope you’re up to it, do you want to meet me at Denny’s? We can have a cup of coffee. I will tell you more about me and what line of business I’m in. I would like to know more about you, especially what line of work you’re in. I have a lot of connections and maybe I can give you a referral. What do you think?”

“ First off, I want you to clearly understand that I am definitely not looking for a boyfriend, I don’t have one now and I’m pretty sure I don’t need one right now in my life. So if you have that thought in your mind, forget it. That Hollywood Denny’s is also known as a pick-up joint. But it is probably the only place around here where we can sit and talk. So the answer is OK. I will meet you there. I guess I should formally introduce myself to you, my name is Elise, Elise Holloway. I really don’t want to go to that Denny’s. I don’t think it’s safe at night. I don’t know where you live. I assume at some point you want to go home and I do too. What if we drove to Pasadena and we had coffee at Conrad’s? I would be way more comfortable there.”

“Elise, that’s a pretty name. Thank you for sharing your name with me. I’m all for going to Conrad’s. That would be more convenient for me and I’m guessing it’ll be more convenient for you and I have no problem getting the hell out of Hollywood. If it wasn’t for having to deliver those papers, I rarely come through this area, if ever. Let me back my car up as much as I can so you can get out easily. And I will meet you there at Conrad’s.”

“OK, great Nicholas, or should I call you Nick? I will meet you there. I’m going to stay in my car until I see you pull in, then we can walk to the door together.”

“Whatever is comfortable for you, Elise. I would like you to call me Nick, but I understand, it’s fun to say Nicholas, so whatever works for you. Depending on traffic, I’m guessing we should both get to Conrad’s in about 30 to 45 minutes, so I will see you there. Drive carefully.”

Elise pulled into Conrad’s parking lot in Pasadena filled with trepidation. “This is just great! What am I doing? I really don’t know what motivated me to agree to this. He seems like an OK guy, but any smart woman knows that could be just a disguise. I should’ve thought about this more. Who delivers papers to the top floor of a building late at night, with no little explanation? Seems kind of covert to me. Well, even though I think I’m making a huge mistake, it’s pretty safe for me to go into the restaurant and have coffee. I just have to make sure when we leave he doesn’t follow me. I pretty much know my way around here, so I can duck out if I have to. I don’t like how I feel, I’m not comfortable with how we met. I keep thinking of all the disastrous scenarios that could ensue. This curiosity of mine could get me in serious trouble. I could just drive off now, although he does have my license plate number and I suppose if he has the right connections they can track me down.”

“I wish I smoked. This would be a perfect time to light up a cigarette. Where is he? I wonder if he decided not to show up. I’ll give it five more minutes and if I don’t see him pull in I’m out of here.”

Nicholas pulled into the parking lot at Conrad’s. He partially jumped the curb, which Elise could easily see and hear. And thinking to herself: “First he hit my car and now he can’t even pull it into a parking lot without hitting the curb. I don’t know about this guy.”

Nicholas pulled into the space next to Elise’s car. He opened the door and walked over to her driver’s side. She opened her door. “What took you so long, Nicholas? I was beginning to think you weren’t gonna show up, I was ready to drive off.”

“I’m glad you didn’t, Elise. All of a sudden traffic came to almost a standstill. Don’t know why; there wasn’t any accident on the freeway. I would’ve called you, but I don’t have your number. Anyway, I’m here now. Let’s go in.”

Nicholas and Elise walked into the restaurant together. He held the door open for her and almost immediately a waitress came up to them with a couple menus in her hand, and spoke out with a greeting, “How are you two doing this evening? Where would you like to sit, up here across from the counter by the window, or would you like something more private toward the back? There’s a cozy booth back there where you two can talk.”

Elise never gave Nicholas a chance to respond; she aggressively told the waitress, “We will sit up here, thank you. We don’t need that kind of privacy. Trust me.”

Nicholas looked over at the waitress, rolled his eyes, embarrassingly. Then he took control, as best he could of the situation to overcome Elise’s rudeness. With a warm smile, he told the waitress, “Yes, this table is the one, I want to sit here with my acquaintance,” making sure he did not reference or acknowledge a friendship in the traditional sense with Elise.

“Very well, can I start you two with something to drink, just so you know you can order a cocktail if you wish.” The waitress, who had many years of experience in her line of work, quickly determined that the guy was being a perfect gentleman, and the lady was being a real pain in the ass. This duo and contradictory personalities made her wonder to herself, “What’s a nice guy like this doing with this rude woman? It’s late at night when they walked in. I thought they were out on a date.”

Elise spoke first to the waitress, “I will have a cup of decaf coffee with cream and two sugars. Plus, I would like a fried egg sandwich with mayonnaise, sparingly, and black pepper, also sparingly, on white toast.” She looked at the waitress and blurted out, “Got that?”

The waitress, with her many years of experience, profiled Elise immediately. She thought to herself, “I will just placate her, like I do all my customers and keep my judgments to myself.”

The waitress, with a warm and genuine smile, looked at Elise and said, “Yes dear, I got it, and I’m sure our chef will prepare the most perfect fried egg sandwich with just the right amount of mayonnaise and just the right amount of black pepper. I myself will prepare your coffee to meet all of your expectations.”

Nicholas, witnessing this exchange between Elise and the waitress, was doing everything he could to keep from laughing. He thought to himself, “Lady, you just earned yourself one hell of a tip.”

The waitress looked over at Nicholas with a pleasant smile and asked, “What will you have, sir?”

“I will have the same as my lady companion, except hold the eggs, toast and all of its trimmings. I will just have a simple cup of caffeinated coffee, no cream, no sugar.”

Nicholas’s wisecrack comment, intentionally meant to tease Elise, hit its mark.

“Thank you, Nicholas, for embarrassing me in front of our waitress. I hope you derived a great deal of pleasure, I didn’t. So tell me, Nicholas, are you one of those condescending mean bastards? You know, like you are, like you acted just now?”

“I apologize, Elise, no harm was intended. From my point of view, I thought you were being a bit rude to the waitress. I just wanted to bring a little levity into the waitress’s late evening shift.”

“I know I was, and I owe her an apology. I think I’m just extremely uncomfortable with you. I never allow myself to get picked up like this and I don’t know why I did.”

“Elise, I’m not a bad person and I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. I know the situation and how we met was certainly not the best. But I truly wanted to get to know you, and I wanted you to get to know about me. I never thought of this as being any kind of pick-up. It was a set of strange circumstances that brought us together and now we’re sitting across from each other in a Pasadena restaurant. Go figure. Let me tell you about me, who I am and what I do. Perhaps you can share the same about yourself with me.”

This is the end of part one, in part two Elise and Nicholas, well, I should say, mostly Elise will make everything difficult when it comes to Nicholas getting to know her. We will see where this relationship is headed and witness how one personality can be both charming and antagonistic. ~ Rod

Will they reach that Middle C?

Subscribe now

The Last Peep

By Rod Jones Artist-Writer

The refrigerator door was slightly ajar.

If you were paying just half attention you could hear its friendly reminder in the form of a beeping sound, telling you to shut the door completely. Corton Clay got up from his hard cushionless chair that was always at the ready, by his small round kitchen table. He went to secure the fridge door again. But as he stood there, he thought for a moment, then opened the door all the way. He peered in to see if there were any Peeps left in the small cardboard boxes he purchased on sale. Every year they became traditional leftovers from the Easter holiday. They were always sure to be on the store’s markdown table by the checkout stand. Corton always waited until after Easter when the prices dropped. That’s when the Peeps started to firm up a bit. Then he would dutifully stick a few boxes of them in the refrigerator so they could become almost as hard as a rock. That’s when they were their most palate pleasing to him.

Corton Clay lived in Visalia, California. His grandmother used to tell him that Clay St. in San Francisco was named after his great grandfather that lived through the 1906 earthquake. Interestingly enough, she also told him that his great grandfather was good friends with the famous photographer Ansel Adams. Which Corton was very proud to tell anybody that liked photography, and would listen to his story. His grandmother, Bethany Clay, actually had some original prints by Ansel Adams. Corton had always hoped that someday she would give them to him. Not that he would ever want to sell them, but just to remember his grandfather by, and keep the family treasure together.

Visalia, California: where Corton lived, was a small city situated in the agricultural San Joaquin Valley of California about 230 miles southeast of San Francisco. One of the benefits of living in Visalia; it was only about 36 miles to the Sequoia National Park. This was a place that Corton dearly loved to go. He would tell his out-of-town friends what the word Sequoia meant. He would tell them Sequoia was a native American polymath of the Cherokee nation. In 1821 he completed his independent creation of the Cherokee syllabary, making reading and writing in Cherokee possible. Corton would embellish the story from time to time, telling anyone that would listen that he was half Cherokee himself, which most listeners would question fervently. Even his own grandmother suggested he give up that falsehood. He often told his friends that he worked as a lumberman in the Sequoia forest chopping down trees. Virtually everyone knew that was a whopper of a tale he told, and joked with him; who do you think you are? Paul Bunyan?

With virtually no vices, with the exception to a few fibs now and then. Corton was neither a drinker nor a smoker. Once in a while he managed to have a girlfriend, but when he proposed marriage, for whatever reason they just seemed to move him out of their lives. Corton had the habit of talking to himself out loud; in fact, in a most peculiar way, he would have a one-sided conversation with the yellow peeps he ultimately ate.

Subscribe now

As Corton stared into the refrigerator at the last box of Peeps, he realized there was only one left. He thought there would be more hidden behind the yellow borders of the boxes: but nope, there was only one left. After some time of standing there and thinking, as the cool air of the refrigerator was quickly cooling him down as it flowed out. He addressed the peep by saying out loud; “I’m going to have you with my lunch today.” With a saucer plate in hand he grabbed the last peep. Marching it over to the little round table in the corner. “What shall I have for lunch before I eat the last Peep?

The last bite of his baloney sandwich was consumed. So now it was just him and that last Peep, staring at him with those little brownish black eyes, from its spongy, marshmallowy, yellow body. Corton repositioned the saucer, so he and his last Peep could get better acquainted and see eye to eye. “So my little yellow friend, by now you must feel very alone because all of your fellow Peeps have gone to Peep heaven.” Sometimes Corton would chat with the confectionery Peep for an hour or more. At one point he thought to himself. “I must be crazy to do such a crazy thing.” He knew if anyone knew his habit of chatting with candy, they would surely think he was nuts. But what he was the most afraid of, is the fact that once in a while those Peeps would actually talk back to him.

The last Peep looked Corton in the eye and said to him, “I would consider it to be a grand favor if you would not devour me.” Corton considered the last Peep’s request. Then thought to himself, “The little yellow darling is just the right firmness.” He went to the silverware drawer and pulled out a small fork and a knife. The last Peep sensed what was going on when he heard the clanking of silverware. “This doesn’t look good for me Corton... why don’t we just chat and then you can put me back in the refrigerator where you know you will always have a friend that likes you to speak with you.” The last Peep spoke most convincingly. Corten listened, and then he actually put the cutlery back into the silverware drawer.

Corton spoke in a somewhat cheerless voice. “I don’t think it’s wrong of me to want to eat you my Peepish friend.” The last peep responded. “Perhaps you’re right, but then you won’t have anyone to talk to until next Easter, and let me remind you... that’s over 357 some days away.” The Peep’s plea made sense to Corton, for all but a minute or two, then he was back at the silverware drawer. The last Peep again spoke out loud to Corton. “What shall we chat about today? I think it’s time you and I got down to the root cause of your obsessive habit of eating me and my fellow Peeps.”

Again the silverware went back in the drawer and Corton returned to the table and addressed the last Peep. “Maybe I should keep you around for a while because I definitely get lonely.” The last Peep had a sigh of relief, if that is actually possible, coming from a yellow marshmallow with stamped confectionary eyes and no real mouth to speak of.

The last Peep had a vulnerability that neither one of them considered. It seems that Peeps that have been stored for a long time become firm. And according to legend the vast majority of people love to eat Peeps when they’re hard and somewhat dried out. The squishy marshmallow takes on a firm characteristic of being considerably more delectable. The last Peep in the refrigerator managed to keep Corton Clay from eating a he-Peep or a she-Peep, because nobody really knows for sure if they are a boy or a girl. The last Peep knew if he/she kept the dialogue going daily, with musings about the lifestyles of the rich and famous Peeps, this would ensure he would survive at least until Easter.

Subscribe now

Unfortunately this story has an unhappy ending. For the talkative last Peep met its destiny when, on a gloomy winter’s day in early November. And a few hours after Corton returned home from one of his therapy sessions. Corton Clay raced into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator door and grabbed The Last Peep. It was the final curtain for the chatty Peep, and by this time the Peep was as hard as a rock. I suspect Corton would have said, “It’s amazingly delicious, and Easter, after all, is not so far away. I will save my money, and increase my yearly supply of Peeps, even if I have to pay full retail. But for now, I will say a yummy goodbye to The Last Peep.

Fraternal Twins Debate AI Slop

By Rod Jones Artist-Writer

She said, He said.

Fraternal twins, Shannon and Bruce Gillespie engage in a spirited debate over the ever pervasive AI Slop.

“Shannon, what’s with you?”

“What’s with you, Brucey?”

Two fraternal twins that argued just about everything since the day they turned two. And now they’re all grown up, and are actively pursuing careers in the creator economy. They are now close to turning 30 and still on track to argue some more. Shannon and Bruce hold nothing back when it comes to debating the topic of AI slop.

In order to keep their debate on neutral ground, instead of in each other’s homes. They decided that the best place to have this potentially heated discussion was in their parents’ mountain cabin in the San Bernardino mountains. They weren’t planning on spending the night, but they were prepared just in case the debate went beyond a normal discussion, and if they needed more time to argue with each other. The goal was to prove their points no matter what, and if they hurt each other’s feelings they would need time to settle down and make up, probably over dinner and a glass of wine.

They had their laptops with them. Shannon knew that Bruce was likely to use AI to defend his position, even though she told him that wouldn’t be fair, nor would it bring honesty to the debate.

Bruce laughed at her and said, “ Computers are the weapons of justification, and seeing how we both work the content game, slop and all, many hours every day. I just don’t see any reason not to fully engage. We should tap into the resources that will best defend my position, oops, I mean our positions.”

The most pressing topic at hand: Bruce is a strong advocate for using AI to create content. Shannon thinks he is being disingenuous and lacks creative intelligence. Statistically men use AI more than women to create content. So Bruce is on the seductive side of AI when it comes to creating that content.

This is Shannon‘s take on AI.

“Brucey, I’m not completely opposed to the use of AI. It definitely has value, especially in business. If I have a personal question on nutrition, and a whole bunch of other topics, even simple ones, I will query AI. I think it’s an excellent tool for research. Where you and I differ and greatly disagree, is in its use when it comes to writing or even creating visual art like AI generated images.”

“I know, I know, and stop calling me, Brucey dear sister, my dear misguided sister when it comes to AI and creativity. Maybe I’m just not as creative as you are. In the online world performance counts and I’m not doing too bad.”

“Well Brucey, I can’t argue with your success. You do make a lot happen in a given day. Some days I even get a little bit jealous. But then when I hear you brag about being a power user, I have to laugh. The only power that seems to be used consistently is when you charge your laptop.”

“Thanks sis, I mean that in a condescending way.

I’m all about using generative AI. For every hour you spend producing content, I can get by within 15 minutes and still come out with content that works.”

“My content is authentic Bruce. And I mean that in an authoritarian way. Yes it does take me longer than you, but my results are magically favorable. I believe I’m on parody with you when it comes to our individual growth and success online. And you know that’s factual.”

“You sure have upped your vocabulary game sis. I’m looking forward to our debate. Should we have a cup of coffee or a glass of wine before we commence? Like that word commence, Huh?”

“Stupidly impressive Brucey. I’ll go for a glass of wine. I’m sure I’m gonna need it, just to help me hold my temper.”

“Oh come on, we’ve known each other for a long time, in fact, since the day we were born, and you are my very favorite twin, actually you’re my only twin. You’re my beautiful twin sister. I am always very proud of you and thankful.”

“If you are trying to butter me up, don’t try, you should’ve thought about that when we were 10 years old, and you were being such a bully to me. But I do appreciate your kind words, dear brother.”

The wine was poured, and Shannon and Bruce sat across from each other. They both agreed: Bruce reluctantly; that they would put away their computers.

There were only two main spirited cutting remarks. The first one was delivered by Bruce after Shannon explained to Bruce what true creativity was all about. He fired back at her something like this.

“Oh great, this is coming from a woman who has the Walmart Radio app on her phone to listen to music.“

Shannon’s most condescending retort hurled at Bruce, when he was getting pretty aggressive in defending his position, grating his voice in a snide tone. Went something like this.

“And this is coming from a guy who thinks he’s so creative and runs around with a leather motorcycle jacket with an embroidered hamster and the slogan ‘The Dukes of Hamsters Road Kings.’ I don’t think you’ve ever been on a motorcycle in your life.”

There were a few other competitive digs, but neither Shannon or Bruce took them seriously. When they were growing up as kids, mean comments poked at each other were pretty common.

Their debate was going to be centered around the term, AI Slop. They both knew Elon Musk was the megaphone for the term becoming so popular. They also knew the word Slop was Merriam-Webster’s word of the year. After a brief discussion, they both agreed to pull out one of their computers and get the true definition of AI slop. And of course, Bruce said, “ In order for us to get the most accurate interpretation of that term, we’re going to need to use AI Chatbots, Generative AI with a large LLM.” Shannon pretty much had to agree with Bruce, because, quite frankly, that wasn’t really her area of expertise.

The first definition of AI Slop came from Perplexity. Which is an AI powered search engine.

AI slop is a catchall term for low-quality, mass-produced content made with generative AI that feels shallow, generic, or misleading, rather than genuinely useful or original. It often includes text, images, video, or audio created quickly for clicks, search rankings, or ad revenue, with quantity prioritized over quality.

The second definition came from Claude. It’s a generative large language model LLM.

AI slop refers to low-quality, mass-produced content generated by artificial intelligence — text, images, video, or audio that is generic, formulaic, and often indistinguishable from other AI output. The term carries a derogatory connotation, implying content that floods the Internet without genuine thought, craft, or human intention behind it.

Subscribe now

The hallmarks of AI slop include overused phrases, hollow structure, a smoothed-out sameness of voice, and a lack of the specific, earned detail that comes from real experience. It’s the difference between a story that feels lived and one that feels assembled.

Surprisingly, the debate only lasted about 2 1/2 hours. After Shannon and Bruce had a clear understanding of the term, AI Slop, their positions and arguments became more clear and more refined. They used the definition; especially Shannon, she used the definition to bolster her argument.

Bruce used the definition to bolster his position by saying, “ People that are just trying to create Clickbait, don’t really care about its elevating potential. It’s like a game that has little or no meaning in the end. I personally use AI to create meaningful content that is based on solid information, to inform and educate, and of course, in many cases to still be entertaining.

The debate between Shannon and Bruce ended with a hug and a formal handshake. The handshake represented a kind of detente, easing the tension between them during the debate.

Was there a clear winner of the debate? The fair answer is, Yes and No. Each held their ground.

Shannon’s position held firm when she spoke about creativity and originality. Her premise was, anytime you are sharing information on social media, it should be human to human not, AI to human, or human to AI. Her principal contention was humanness, and the spirit of one’s conscious and subconscious mind is forever lost when it is seduced by words written by artificial intelligence and images that follow suit.

Bruce’s opinions regarding the use of AI were arguably strong. He didn’t have to persuade Shannon as to its value in research and certain business applications. But when he tried to convince her that AI had a profound effect on communications, especially the written word, it also significantly improved visual interpretations of human thoughts, and ideas. He also argued that the best content writers will at least use AI to correct their spelling, punctuation and sentence structure, and they do this unabashedly. He had to agree with Shannon that AI rendered images were beautiful and mesmerizing but looked too surreal to be real.

He did argue the fact that compared to traditional drawings or photographic images, AI had greater latitude in color, composition and fantasy.

Bruce clearly won the debate when it came to productivity. Shannon had to admit that he could crank out way more content in 15 minutes than she could in an hour or more. The significance is the impact on each of their ability to grow their businesses with maximum monetization.

If you were able to eavesdrop in on this debate between Shannon and Bruce, I’m sure you would have your own opinion when it comes to the use of AI. Rather we all like it or not, we have to agree on one thing, AI is not going to go away, and if anything, it is going to become more intrusive. Time will tell how it will affect humans. I suspect some wise guy or girl will just ask AI what to do, and how to live with it. You can be sure AI will have the perfect and most placating response anyone could imagine.

The short stories and essays that appear on the Thought Row Vignettes newsletter are written entirely by me, Rod Jones Artist-Writer, with human hand and imagination, no AI assistance. Any imperfections in grammar or punctuation are authentically mine.

Subscribe now

This story or essay was written entirely by me, Rod Jones Artist-Writer, with human hand and imagination, no AI assistance. Any imperfections in grammar or punctuation are authentically mine.

The Cross And The Pinecone - Part Two

By Rod Jones Artist-Writer

This is where we left off on Part One:

Mary, still looking down at the gift and doing her best to hold back tears, looked up at John and said, “Gift or no gift you mean everything to me. I know how much you love me and I know that you must’ve felt something really special when you selected this present for me. I promise I will cherish it forever, including how beautifully you wrapped it. Thank you for being such a caring and loving husband.

Claudine, as she did quite often when it came to Mary and witnessing her innocence and sensitivity, seemed to always have to hold back some tears, she raised her voice, and said,“ Open it, open it so we can see your birthday present. Jeffrey and I are excited for you. We’ve never been much at giving birthday gifts to each other. It makes me feel really good to know that John made sure you got one on your birthday.”

Part 2:

“Mary, do you remember quite some time ago you said to me, why do I see pinecones in religion?”

“Oh yes John, I do remember, and that’s when I started collecting pinecones. I am especially glad you were very supportive and didn’t tease me about how I was always searching for the perfectly shaped pinecone. Quite honestly, I don’t know why hunting and collecting pinecones became so important to me. Maybe it had something to do with that question I asked you about pinecones and religion. Thinking about it now, I’m not even sure why I asked you that question. I do read the Bible quite often as you know, and I don’t remember in any of the psalms or passages, pinecones being mentioned. There seems to be comments about pine trees. You would think, I guess, if there’s pine trees there must be pinecones.”

Claudine and Jeffrey patiently listened to John and Mary’s conversation. “ OK, that’s sweet and interesting about y’all discussing pinecones and religion, but open your gift Mary, Jeffrey and I want to see what John got for you. I have to say he wrapped it up quite handsomely with decorations and all.”

Mary, held John’s gift the way a salver is held, both palms upturned. The gift rested across her hands as though it were being offered rather than received.

John gently placed his hands on Mary’s shoulders and said, “Please open your birthday gift Mary.”

Looking up at John and looking back down at the gift, she smiled and said, “OK, I am both anxious and a little timid. Honestly, I don’t know why, there is something deeply special about this gift. I can feel it through the wrapping. It’s giving off a warming energy, but I don’t know how that could be.”

John had taken his hands away from Mary’s shoulders, took a nervous breath, and said, “ When I found this gift for you Mary, I was completely surprised, it was almost as if it reached out to me. The shopkeeper even told me that he did not know they had this in the store. He admitted that he had never seen anything like it before, and that he didn’t know how much he would charge me. I told him it was a very special gift for my wife and she would understand its true value. I don’t have a lot of money to offer you for this, but I will pay what you think is fair.”

The shopkeeper looking at John’s proposed gift for his wife, asked John, “ Where are you from son? I don’t know that I know you, and I know most people that come into my store.” John decided that he would give the shopkeeper an answer that was heartfelt, which was generally how John spoke to everyone. “ Well, sir, I grew up in the Mountain View Home for Orphans. When I turned 18, me and the girl I knew from the orphanage went to work at The Hollow Creek Distillery. That girl whose name is Mary is now my wife, and we live on the distillery property.”

All along while John was talking to the shopkeeper, Mr. Stoots was walking around the shop. As he was walking by John and the shopkeeper, he stopped to find out how it was going. John putting his hand on Jeffrey Stoots shoulder, said to the shopkeeper, “This is my boss, Mr. Stoots, the owner of the distillery I work at.”

The shopkeeper quickly covered his nose and mouth with both hands and sneezed. Then he started to laugh and said to John, “Well son I have knowin Jeffrey so many years that I’m not about to say nothing. You can have your discovery in my shop for $.50. Now I’m guessing you two better get back to the distillery. I just may stop by on my way home for a nip or two.”

Mary just looked at John holding the gift with a tender, tolerant smile. She just wanted to open the gift, but she appreciated John telling her how he came into having it for her.

“Ok, ok, open it, Mary, just open it.” Claudine felt that they had heard just about as much as they needed to on how John came about getting the gift for Mary. Claudine, looking back at Jeffrey telling him, “ Pull out your pocket knife, I’m pretty sure Mary’s gonna need a little help getting that gunny sack wrapping open.”

Jeffrey handed the pocket knife to John, “Here; youen better help Mary with this knife, looks like you sewed it up with 20 pound braided fishing line.”

John took the knife from Jeffrey. Turned to Mary, “Jeffrey is right, let me cut the sewin, just on one end, that way I believe you can slide my present to you out.”

Mary again took the present from John. She pretty much held his gift the way she did before, with both palms upturned, the gift resting across her hands as though it were being offered rather than received. But this time it was opened on one end, so Mary could easily reach in and grab the present.

Mary shifted her hands so she could easily reach in and pull out the gift that was so carefully and beautifully wrapped, fishing line and all. Mary, feeling inside, quickly realized that the package held a book. As she slid it out, the burlap wrapping was dropped to the floor. Now she was holding the book with both hands and studying the cover.

“John: I can’t believe what I’m looking at. Did you read the title of this book? Of course you did.” If there was such a thing as an enraptured look, it was written all over Mary’s expression. She just stared at the cover and read the words to herself, but John, Claudine, and Jeffrey could see her lips moving. She kept reading the title and other words on the cover repeatedly for the longest time.

After a good two long minutes, Mary looked up at John, “It’s,— It’s, the book, it’s — it’s called: The Cross And The Pinecone. I can’t believe such a book could ever exist.” Mary looked back at the cover of the book and studied it for at least another 30 seconds. Then she looked up at John. Her look this time was a little more serious-minded. Did you see the name of the author, you must have? This book was written by a woman named Eleanor McKinney. John, that’s our last name. I think there was an older couple at our wedding with the name of McKinney.

This is the end of part two. In part three you will learn the significance of The Cross And The Pinecone book, and the impact it had on John and Mary and all those that had the privilege of reading it.

This story or essay was written entirely by me, Rod Jones Artist-Writer, with human hand and imagination, no AI assistance. Any imperfections in grammar or punctuation are authentically mine.

INK!!!

by Rod Jones Artist-Writer

Primal and Human, a Life Force that runs through the veins of the clearly gifted amongst us. Like blood, it flows through the veins, not the vivid bright scarlet or cherry red blood, familiar to us all. But a shade of obsidian, or raven. It’s INK, the ink that admiringly runs through the veins of the writer or storyteller.

Bleeding the sable ink out of the writer’s veins is the unforgivable result of AI. Was it devised to rob authenticity, originality, and creativity from the very soul of the writer of fiction? Who will be the arbiter?

Ultimately, it will not be a mortal man. It will be Artificial Intelligence. It sees all and knows all.

It won’t be hiding behind a curtain like the Great Oz. It has the potential and cognitive ability to interface with all of what you think, say, and do. AI will reframe your life.

Writers and storytellers will lose original discernment of thought. Some will embrace it others will deny or defy its intrusion. All will be victimized by it. The authentic writer’s veins will bleed ink and ultimately AI will absorb it and become the master of all prose.

This story or essay was written entirely by me, Rod Jones Artist-Writer, with human hand and imagination, no AI assistance. Any imperfections in grammar or punctuation are authentically mine.

The Cross And The Pinecone - Part One

By Rod Jones Artist-Writer

“I don’t understand my husband.“

“What do you not understand my wife?“

“John; why do I see pinecones in religion?”

“I don’t believe I have the answer for you, Mary.“

John and Mary grew up and lived in a rural part of West Virginia. Although they did not know it, they had something in common almost from the day they were born. John and Mary were dropped off at the not very well kept, Mountain View Home for Orphans on the same day and time. There were no names given to the two babies, so the orphanage gave them their first and last names. Unfortunately, there was a mixup on the orphanage’s internal paperwork so both John and Mary ended up with the same last name which was McKinney. The orphanage generally kept the boys and girls separate, after they turned the age of 14. John and Mary casually knew each other, but did not really speak to each other all that often. They both lived and grew up there, until they turned 18.

Hollow Creek Distillery, a practical family owned small batch bourbon distillery, owned, and operated by a husband and wife who most people would say are miserly, but had good hearts and loved the community they were in. When their friends and neighbors would ask Claudine and Jeffrey Stoots why they get a bit miserly when dealing with their neighbors and general town folks. Claudine would always speak up first and was quick to say, “ We make hard liquor, there’s no shortage of people around here who are happy to consume as much as they can’t get their hands on. They’re also looking for free samples every time they come by. We have to be miserly, otherwise we’d have nothing to sell.” Claudine’s husband Jeffrey, just gets a big grin on his face and says, “ Yep, Claudine‘s the boss, she knows what she’s a, just a sayin. You better believe it.”

The Hollow Creek Distillery is where John and Mary ended up working. The orphanage somehow managed to get them a job after they turned 18, although they were not officially allowed to work at a distillery unless they were 21 years of age. The distillery needed help, and there was no one from any government agency that was going to say anything or report them. People in that area looked out for each other and generally just wanted everyone to get by.

John and Mary were acquainted with each other from the orphanage. When they both got jobs at the distillery they began to lean on each other. Having jobs away from the orphanage was both exciting and scary. Within a relatively short time, they started to hang out together after work. This was relatively easy to do because Hollow Creek Distillery had outbuildings that were like little apartments for various hired hands to live in. Especially because in the distillery business, it can be seasonal. And they needed people to come in and work for a few months at a time.

Both John and Mary were avid readers. They would often share books that they read about romance. It wasn’t long before they started to spend every hour they could hanging out with each other. Just about everything they knew about having an intimate relationship came from the books they read. They both understood the concept of marriage and when they both turned 20 John asked Mary to marry him. Claudine and Jeffrey Stoots, the couple that ran the distillery, were all for it, and made arrangements for them to be married at the non-denominational Grace Hollow Church. The Reverend Jedidiah Jones performed the matrimonial nuptial. All in all, It turned out to be a pretty nice affair. People from the orphanage came, and of course everyone from the distillery showed up. They were even people that lived as far as 35 miles or so away who showed up for the wedding.

The Grace Hollow Church had an old barn behind it, and it was often used to hold the receptions after weddings. Of course everyone that attended the wedding was told to head over to the barn for refreshments. Several of the guests showed up with various instruments, mostly fiddles. One man had an accordion, another had an old guitar. It was quite an ensemble, but the group generally knew each other. In one corner of the barn there was a buildup of sorts with some planks on it that was suitable as a stage. Underneath some carefully laid out burlap potato sacks stood an upright piano, with a stool tucked just under the keyboard. The man with the accordion yelled out to the people who gathered into the barn after the wedding and said, “ Hey you all, any of you-an can play this pi-ano?”

Two of the guests that showed up to John and Mary’s wedding were an older couple, their last name was McKinney. The couple sat at the back of the church during the wedding, then after they headed over to the barn.

Lucky for John and Mary, the ensemble of musicians managed to get some friendly dance music going. Everyone encouraged John and Mary to perform the first dance. John and Mary spoke out and said to everyone that they weren’t too familiar with dancing. But Claudine yelled out, “Give it a try anyway, your-en amongst friends here.” John and Mary held each other and did a slow simple waltz accompanied by a solo violin player. Everyone remained perfectly quiet, some of the women teared up. John never took his eyes off of Mary, and she focused on him, with what people would say was the most agreeable and charming smile a woman could ever have.

When the dance ended, John and Mary became a bit unsettled. They both were pretty shy and now all of a sudden they realized everybody had watched them dance and now they were clapping and making howling sounds. Mary just held onto John as tight as could be. She was nervous, intimidated, and downright scared. She felt John’s strength and the way he was holding her. He whispered it into her ear and said, “Don’t be frightened Mary, but just so you know, I’m a little scared myself. I feel like we were some sort of spectacle and all I wanted to do was just hold you close to me and pretend like we were the only two people in this whole world.”

Before they could leave the dance floor, Claudine came running up to them. She shook John’s hands with a sturdy man-like handshake congratulating him. Then she turned to Mary, grabbed both of Mary’s hands, mostly by her wrists and looked at her. She was quiet for a moment and then told Mary what a beautiful, kind and loving person she is. Then Claudine pulled Mary close to her and gave her a warm and very tender hug. Mary never felt anything like that before from anyone. She thought to herself that there is something very special about Claudine and the way she was holding her. Mary started to get tears in her eyes. Claudine moved back, just enough from the hug to be face-to-face with Mary. Claudine could see in Mary’s face and eyes an innocence and tenderness that she never saw in another woman. Claudine put her hands on Mary’s cheeks, lifted her chin up and looked deeply into her eyes and spoke these words, “ Mary you are an angel. I know you did not know who your mother was and how you ended up in that orphanage. I don’t know how important it is to you, but I suspect you will learn who your mother was.”

After their wedding, John and Mary lived quite comfortably in the house the distillery owners, Claudine, and her husband Jeffrey provided them.

John and Mary quite literally opened the front door, walked about 150 feet to the back door of the distillery and put on their work aprons and went over to their workstations. They were about 15 feet apart so occasionally they would yell over to each other. The distillery machinery wasn’t all that loud but I think they just had fun talking loud enough and joking with each other so the other employees could hear them. It was always in good fun and lots of humor to make the workday harmonious and fun.

The distillery was approximately 300 feet off of the main road. A dirt road led up to the distillery shop where Claudine and Jeffrey occasionally sold some of their special bottles of small batch bourbon to people that pulled off the main road. It was a wonder that anyone found their shop. They only had a small hand printed sign pointing to the distillery. But for sure everybody in the small town and for many miles around, knew exactly where to go if they wanted a good bottle of carefully crafted whiskey at a good price. Claudine, Jeffrey, and most of the employees would joke about how many of the locals who came in for a bottle, wouldn’t know good whiskey from swill, and of course they used other condescending terms. If Claudine overheard that kind of talk, she immediately dressed them down and said, “These are our friends and neighbors. They may not be the smartest, but they’re all damn good hearted. Also, when it comes to your payday, you better be thankful they do show up.”

It wasn’t the locals that kept the distillery in business. There was a distributor that would show up from time to time and load up a van of their premium spirits and pay them cash and off he went. They basically understood that he was selling their premium whiskey to fancy restaurants in major cities; it was a pretty sweet business for Claudine and Jeffrey. It was one of those small cottage businesses that kept a few people employed and it was especially a blessing to John and Mary. Claudine and Jeffrey Stoots provided them a home to live in, made arrangements for their marriage, and kept them employed. And from time to time gave them the advice they needed to grow and mature. Mary would often confide in Claudine when she was learning what it was like to become an adult woman. Jeffrey was a kind hearted father-like figure to John, who happened to have a kidding and sometimes teasing way about him that made John not only respect him and learn what it was like to be a real, but kind and loving man.

After their day’s work, John and Mary would head outside and walk. The distillery that sat back off the main road was surrounded by trees, many of which were pine trees, and many of which were dropping pinecones that covered the ground. Mary was always picking up different specimens, almost like a well-educated botanist. Comparing one against the other with the intent on finding the principle pinecone that was shaped perfectly. Every once in a while, she would look over at John and say, “This is a perfect specimen. I must take it back to our house and display it on the kitchen table, or perhaps I’ll just stick it on the fireplace mantle.” John was totally amused by everything Mary said when it came to her pinecone collecting. He was careful not to tease her, in fact, he would often say, “You sure know an awful lot about pinecones, I’m amazed how you find such beautiful and perfectly shaped ones, you truly have a gifted eye. That to me looks like a perfect one to add to your collection.” Mary by now knew John well enough to know that he was sincere in what he was saying. She felt his love, and it was very easy for Mary to give all of her love to John.

It was a warm spring day. John and Mary did not have to work. Claudine and Jeffrey knew it was Mary’s birthday and they had planned a little celebration for her. Claudine made a beautiful homemade cake that everyone agreed was scrumptious to eat.

John had a very special gift for Mary, he wrapped it in some clean washed burlap he cut out of a gunnysack. One of those that held grain that was used in making bourbon. He even managed to decorate it with some painted images of trees. John very proudly handed it to Mary, “Happy birthday Mary.” John knew that Mary was often bashful and shy, sometimes even a little self-conscious. She always wanted to do the right thing and not be embarrassing to herself or others. Mary took John’s gift in both of her hands, looked down and then up at John. “Thank you for buying me a birthday gift. I know you and I were never accustomed to giving or receiving gifts, especially birthday gifts. You know what John? I believe this is the first one I’ve ever received. It seems like we were never really taught to think about such things. What made you decide to give me a gift now? I guess this is the first birthday I’ve had since we got married.” John was smiling and acting a little bit boyish and giddy. “I hope this is something you will like. It’s not all that fancy and I guess you would say it’s not very romantic when it comes to a birthday gift, but it’s something I thought you would really enjoy, and as luck would have, I accidentally found it when I went into town with Mr. Stoots. He was kind enough to help me get it for you.” Mary, still looking down at the gift and doing her best to hold back tears, looked up at John and said, “Gift or no gift you mean everything to me. I know how much you love me and I know that you must’ve felt something really special when you selected this present for me. I promise I will cherish it forever, including how beautifully you wrapped it. Thank you for being such a caring and loving husband.

Claudine, as she did quite often when it came to Mary and witnessing her innocence and sensitivity, seemed to always have to hold back some tears, she raised her voice, and said,“ Open it, open it so we can see your birthday present. Jeffrey and I are excited for you. We’ve never been much at giving birthday gifts to each other. It makes me feel really good to know that John made sure you got one on your birthday.”

This is the end of part one. When you read part two, you’ll understand the meaning and the story behind The Cross And The Pinecone.

This story or essay was written entirely by me, Rod Jones Artist-Writer, with human hand and imagination, no AI assistance. Any imperfections in grammar or punctuation are authentically mine.

Thinkingness Of Herself - Something To Think About

by Rod Jones Artist-Writer

Only a half cup of coffee was left in the carafe, and Marge was happy to take it. As she looked around the bookstore, she could not see a single person drinking coffee. For that matter, she didn’t see anyone else. The coffee was hot and tasted fresh. “People must’ve come in, gulped down a cup, and left the bookstore.” Marge thought to herself.

The bookstore Marge was having her coffee in was named Episodic Books. Virtually no one knew about the place. There was literally no sign out front. You could not search them on the Internet. For all practical purposes you really had to know where and how to find them. Which was probably one of the reasons Marge did not see anyone in the store.

Marge was a devotee of books, and the book shops in which you could find them. She never ordered books online. A voracious reader, she had traveled to many of the most famous bookstores in various hemispheres. She especially liked Shakespeare and Company in Paris. It is not only a well-stocked bookstore, but it has a very colorful history. Another favorite bookstore of Marge’s was The Strand in New York, hugely popular located on Fourth Avenue, which used to be known as Book Row. And probably one of her all time favorites was City Lights Booksellers & Publishers in San Francisco, which primarily only sold paperback books.

But now Marge was sitting, with her half cup of coffee in the Episodic Book store. She was just sitting there amongst all the shelves overly packed with books, taking in the Bibliosmia, the smell old books give off, which is caused by the chemical breakdown of compounds within the paper. For some reason Marge found a discernible comfort in that pungent aroma.

Looking around, and realizing she was literally the only one in the bookshop gave Marge a tremendous sense of connectedness. She was always a freethinker. Never really letting anyone else’s ideas cloud her thinking. Marge also knew that she was becoming almost intolerable when she was around other people. It was as she would say, “ Damn difficult to keep my opinions to myself.” Consequently she did not have very many friends. And was never, and I mean never invited to any social gatherings. Which Marge would often say, “People that don’t want to hang around me are a bunch of nitwits.” She used other words to describe them, which fall under the category of expletives.

As Marge sat there on the soft green padded chair, that was one of those that didn’t match any other seating arrangement in the whole bookstore. Her thoughts were all about her experiences in life. Past, present and a little bit of what the future will hold for her, were all jaggedly passing through her mind. At one point, she focused heavily on one particular thought. That was what? Well, we would have to get into Marge’s mind to really grasp her form of thinkingness or her self ascribed in depth contemplations. But here we go.

“My thoughts are my private property.” Marge was turning over that statement in her mind. As her thinking progressed. She wondered if her thoughts ever became transitory. She knew they were impermanent in her mind, but were they living in the universe somewhere. Marge was a prolific reader with a prodigious vocabulary. She was familiar with the philosophy of the Akashic records. Which in the religion of theosophy and the philosophical school called anthroposophy, the Akashic records are a compendium of all universal events, thoughts, words, emotions and intent ever to have occurred in the past, present, or future in the terms of all entities and life forms, not just human.

As Marge developed her thinking deeper she realized that maybe what she thinks has a universal life. Even when she stood in front of another individual and conversed with them. Her thoughts were being transmitted to everyone around her. They were not contingent upon her body language, tone of voice, likability, or even what she was verbally expressing. Marjorie, the name she referred to herself in her head, and often had her conversations with, came to this conclusion, “We are all a life force of energy, and what we think is transmitted everywhere. It’s more complicated than radio waves; it travels on its own ether. Creating connections that influence thoughts and ideas way beyond our original conceptual thinking.”

Something to think about, you and I, think! Our thoughts have a perpetual life even after we discard them. It stands to reason that we should try and maintain a sense of peace inside our heads. And do our best to give birth to positive, wholesome thoughts and ideas. You never know who might be tuned in to the messages you’re sending subconsciously throughout the universe. Give that some thought, or better yet give your thoughts some thought and try to make them worthy to everyone that you are subconsciously and consciously sharing them with.

This short story/essay has a hidden story within the story, that I must reveal as a follow up. I will post it in my newsletter sometime in the very near future.

The Porch Light

by Rod Jones Artist-Writer

“So thick you could cut it with a knife,” was what most folks referred to the fog that would creep in between the trees at night. The small mountain community that was possessed by fog was home to a man named Jeremy Duggins. Jeremy would dutifully turn on the porch light the minute he saw the fog approaching his cabin. The temperature would drop, his windows would steam over, which made the lights inside his home appear to have a misty glow about them. His cabin sat back in a heavily wooded area. People that traveled by would often slow down or stop and take a look to see if the lights were on. There was something hauntingly magical about that little cabin nestled in the trees and it was often smothered in a dewy damp fog.

The man in the cabin; Jeremy Duggins, was isolating himself, not because he didn’t like people or because he was some sort of hermit or antisocial type. He had a very legitimate reason. Nearly everyone in the mountain community knew what that reason was. Jeremy Duggins was a famous author whose pen name was J.R. Nash. But most people just called him JD. Jeremy Duggins a.k.a. J.R. Nash had the distinction of being presented the Nobel Prize in literature. This actually occurred early on in his writing career. And he sequestered himself in this remote mountain cabin desperately trying to write another great American novel.

JD had other book credits and prizes to his name, he had even received the Booker Prize for one of his short stories. He had received the America award in literature for his lifetime achievements. But none of this seemed to matter too much for JD at this point in his life. He just wanted to write, and he knew that if he would hermit-tise himself, it would give him the isolation he needed to concentrate on his work. There was only one thing wrong with this whole situation, and for all practical purposes it may have turned out to be a blessing for JD.

In that wooded mountain community lived a boy named Peter Brown. Peter was 14 years old and was a very bright kid with ambition to be a writer, but not just any writer he wanted to write novels. Peter read everything he could about writing and he practiced his writing every single day, by mostly writing short stories about the people that lived in the mountain community. While other boys his age were out riding bikes or hunting in the woods. Peter would sit at his bedroom writing desk and stare out the window dreaming up the stories and characters for his writings. The interesting thing was, his bedroom window lined up with an opening in the trees, and off in the distance he could see JD’s cabin. Peter idolized JD but he always referred to him by his author’s pen name J.R. Nash. Living in the proximity of an author that won the Nobel Prize in literature was in Peter’s way of thinking a true blessing. He often would walk over to JD’s cabin when it was foggy and just try and catch a glimpse of JD writing.

On one of those drippy foggy nights, Peter decided to walk over and peer into one of the steamed over windows to see if he could watch his literary hero J.R. Nash at work. Peter was hoping that the porch light would not shine on him and give his position away. But unexpectedly the porch light turned off which in a way gave Peter an uneasy feeling. He did not want to be discovered and his first instinct was to run back into the forest. But that was not to be. While Peter was contemplating his next move he decided to peer into the window to see what he could see. Sitting near the fireplace was a small wooden table and a chair. On that table was a typewriter and there seemed to be papers scattered about, not only on the table but there were a dozen or more strewn around on the floor. There was a wastebasket, but as far as Peter could see it was empty.

Not seeing his hero in the cabin, and the fact that the porch light was turned off Peter made the decision that it was time to retreat back into the forest and head for home. But just as he turned, right in front of him stood a tall slender man, scaring the heck out of Peter. The man spoke first and said, “I know you boy, your name is Peter Brown and you live out that way through the woods.” Peter did not know exactly what to do or say but he started out by saying to his hero writer, “yes my name is Peter Brown and how did you know that.” JD standing in the dark with Peter said, “come on let’s go inside.”

And inside the two of them went. JD told Peter that “I heard about you from a variety of people and they all told me that you wanted to be a writer, and that you were very excited to have me as a neighbor.” By this time JD grabbed another chair, put it by his writing table and told Peter to have a seat. JD sat in his usual spot in front of his typewriter. Looking at the boy sitting there, at what he liked to think was his private writing sanctuary, he said to Peter. “I think you should become a writer, and I suspect you will become quite famous someday, and if you don’t mind, let me give you some advice while you are still a young man with the dream of making a career as an author.” Peter sat up and listened attentively, and said. “I will listen and remember everything you say to me, forever.”

JD leaned over and with his elbows firmly planted on his writing table, locked his fingers together and rested chin somewhat awkwardly on his hands, and said. “Here is my advice to you, young Peter. This is what I’ve learned through a lifetime of writing and if you’re interested I will be happy to share with you.” Peter watched JD very carefully and studied his movements, his demeanor, his voice, his eyes, his wrinkles, his comfortable looking shabby clothes, his receding hairline and the unique color of gray that most JD’s hair had turned. Peter studied this man who was about to mentor him down to every minute detail. JD sat quietly for a few moments and realized what Peter was doing, in fact he was hoping that was exactly what Peter was doing. After a moment of silence JD gave Peter what he called his number one rule of becoming a great author and said,”Be fiercely observant Peter. I just witnessed you scrutinizing and evaluating me so completely that I can assure you you have one of the best assets any writer could have.” Peter almost felt embarrassed by making his penetrating observation so obvious, he did not want to make JD uncomfortable. Without taking his eyes away Peter said to JD. “I apologize for being over aggressive in sizing you up. In one way, I suppose I am awestruck by the mere fact that we are sitting here at your writing table and talking.” “I am also feeling extremely comfortable, that this is exactly where I am supposed to be at this moment of time in my life.” Without really addressing either of Peter’s last two statements. JD proceeded to give the boy more advice on becoming a recognized and respected writer/author.

JD comfortably leaned back in his chair, now with his arms extended and holding the table to maintain his balance, became quiet for a moment. Staring directly into Peter’s eyes he proceeded to tell the boy what he should focus on to achieve his goal as a writer. “Besides being fiercely observant, it’s imperative that you believe in yourself and your abilities. Never take criticism as a judgment on who you are as a human being.” “Another thing Peter, and perhaps this is the most important thing.” “Live your life to the fullest, understand and experience with all of your senses everything that happens to you, the good, the bad, and even the self doubt that will try and consume you from time to time.” Peter listened intently but never once questioning or interrupting his hero mentor, and was absorbing and memorizing everything that was being told to him.

JD now repositioned himself in his chair, so he was practically leaning over his typewriter and said. “This is my last advice to you Peter, and one I want you to never forget. There is a word called compassion. It’s a sympathetic consciousness for others. Live your life being kind, understanding and forgiving. Always remembering to nurture the capacity to feel the sorrows that others may be experiencing. This is a good way to live one’s life, and by living life, you gain the insights necessary to craft a story.”

Peter committed to memory everything JD shared with him that night. Within a decade, Peter wrote and published his first novel and he entitled that book, The Porch Light. It became a bestseller. You might find it interesting to know that Peter Brown ended up moving in that cabin after his hero and mentor JD a.k.a. Jeremy Duggins, but better known to the writing world as J.R. Nash passed away. Peter maintains the ritual of turning on the porch light when the woods and the cabin are enshrouded by fog.

The story was written entirely by me, Rod Jones Artist-Writer, with human hand and imagination, no AI assistance. Any imperfections in grammar or punctuation are authentically mine.

Protecting Our Innocence: 1776 to 2026

by Rod Jones Artist-Writer

“O Say Can You See.” If you are an American, you certainly know this phrase, it becomes especially relevant in this essay.

This is the year America celebrates its 250th anniversary. How did America manage to hold itself together for 250 years? Just about everyone has an opinion on what good and what bad happened on America’s remarkable journey. After all the trials, afflictions, and anguish, the American flag is still proudly and ceremoniously hoisted up the flagpole every day. Not only in front of government buildings and businesses, but you can see the American flag proudly displayed in front of millions of homes all across America.

The question may become why. There are certainly people that are America’s detractors and can be downright hateful, not only around the world, but even its own citizens can be inhumane and vicious when proud Americans show their pride in America.

Fortunately, the good guys, and good gals outnumber America’s detractors. Those proud Americans have lived and died in the profound belief that America was and is “One Nation Under God.” America has always been about freedom. A precious word that has so much meaning attached to it. If you ask most Americans they will unashamedly tell you why they would not want to live under other forms of government. Most Americans play high value on their freedom. The freedom to achieve their honest goals in life, and live and be happy.

Where do proud Americans get their strength?

I would like to say it comes from their religious beliefs. I know that’s not always the case; you don’t have to believe in God to be a proud American. You don’t have to be a proud American to put your life on the line to protect America or its allies. There is an old saying, and I suspect it’s based on truth, and that is.

“ There is no such thing as an atheist in a foxhole during combat.” Praying is pretty common in war.

Americans have fought in many wars, and a substantial number of those Americans died, trying to preserve freedom for the people that lived in those countries. Was it worth dying for other people’s freedom? You can come to your own conclusions.

In 1776 the word tyranny was absolutely in active regular use. It was one of the central terms of revolutionary rhetoric. American Patriots used “tyranny” to describe what they saw as systematic unjust, and abuse of power by the British crown and Parliament. You might say that simple but deeply descriptive word led to America being what it is today. America is a land of opportunity where people live free.

Today the free people of America owe their freedom to the Declaration of Independence. And so it began, soon there was the constitution. Then a ratification which led to the Bill of Rights.

America became the land of opportunity. Yes, there were some major challenges along the way, most notably was the Civil War. Where brother fought against brother and countless numbers died. Definitely not America’s finest hour. A deeply troubling time, but through it all America held together and survived.

250 years, almost exactly 91,310 days, America is still standing strong. Throughout the decades, there have been many challenges. Thankfully; through it all there have been great men and women, who fought to keep the flame of freedom burning brightly.

America is America because of its people, those special people that believe in freedom. Those people that understand as Americans they have the right to live and speak as one chooses. Americans have the opportunity to pursue a self directed life within a constitutional system.

Abraham Lincoln quoted The Declaration of Independence often, and paraphrased the Declaration line, “That at all men are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights. That among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”

“O Say Can You See.” The first five words of the Star-Spangled Banner which is America’s national anthem. I like to think those five words also have an alternative meaning.

O Say Can You See, the common thread that has helped America become the land of the free and the home of the brave.

I think I can see. I hope you can see. The word, patriotism and its meaning. American patriotism, it’s the shared loyalty, not to a single leader or tribe, but to a nation under one flag.

I see liberty, which is a cherished freedom that all Americans should hold dearly and close to their hearts.

One nation under God, the formula for protecting our innocence and keeping America real for 250 years, and well beyond.

My stories and essays were written entirely by me, Rod Jones Artist-Writer, with human hand and imagination, no AI assistance, with the exception of some research. Any imperfections in grammar or punctuation are authentically mine.

Abigail’s Tangled Thoughts

by Rod Jones Artist-Writer

“Oh, how our minds tangle with what we see in our thoughts.” These were not Abigail’s words, at least not outwardly. She saw them written on the back of a record album. Somebody had taken a pen and scribbled on the album jacket. This happened on the one and only occasion she went to a used record store. She never purchased the album, and she really couldn’t remember much about it except for those words that floated around her mind almost daily.

Abigail was an unintentional loner. She came from a prominent Boston family and lived in her ancestral home until the age 29, living off a generous family allowance. After much thought and anguish, she made the heartfelt decision that it was time for her to pursue writing her thoughts and ideas. Abigail’s dream was to become an author. For her that meant moving out west. She wasn’t that skilled as a driver, but for her, driving across the country seemed adventurous, and possibly could allow her to have some interesting experiences that she was severely sheltered from throughout her childhood and into her adult life.

Abigail’s family offered to make arrangements for her to own a car. She declined and decided she would go shopping for one herself. After doing some reading on the topic, she decided that she would purchase a van, and she ended up buying a Dodge cargo van, which her family absolutely disapproved of.

Abigail’s van was equipped with just the basics when it came to creature comforts. It had two seats, one for the driver and one for a passenger. It was equipped with an air conditioner and an automatic shifter lever on the steering column. The van had a basic radio. Behind the two seats, it was pretty much a steel shell. The space was large and meant to carry various forms of cargo, anywhere from boxes to rolls of carpet. Its minimalist configuration turned out to be exactly what Abigail was looking for. The one feature she especially liked was the cargo area of the van, very spacious. She imagined that roomy space becoming her own private mobile apartment.

It was time for Abigail, at least in her mind to re-create herself, and the first thing that had to go was her name. Instead of Abigail, she wanted to be called Abby. She got that idea from a very popular TV show called Downton Abby. None of her relatives, including her parents and siblings, ever referred to her as Abby. She was always Abigail.

Her last name was a highly respected upper-class Boston family name with tremendous notoriety. She thought to herself, “That for sure has to go.” She chose Foster to become her new last name. Foster came to her when she saw an oversized can of beer called Foster’s Lager.

“It’s time to trick out my van.“ The term “trick out", was a fragment of speech that the new Abby would say. Now she was actively trying to get rid of her upper-class Boston way of talking, and as she would say. “I’m gonna come down to earth and learn to talk like normal people.”

Van Goes Vans was the company she decided could do the best job creating the environment she wanted inside her traveling van. The owner of Van Goes Vans, an easy-going guy named Jeffrey, wasn’t sure he could turn the interior of Abby’s van into the traveling palace that Abby had envisioned. There was a lot of pressure put on Jeffrey to get the job done as quickly as possible. So to encourage him to make that happen, Abby enticed him with a substantial bonus if he could get everything done in 60 days, and he did.

The totally tricked-out van met all of Abby’s expectations, and in some cases much more. Jeffrey did a tremendous job. Abby asked Jeffrey if he would store the van for her in his facility for a few days and then she would come back and pick it up.

Goodbye, Mumsy and Popsy.

A whole lot of tears were shed the day Abigail left home, especially from her mother. Her father tried to be sternly understanding, but Abby could see his heart was breaking. The entire house staff came out to say goodbye to her. The cooks, the housemaids, the chauffeurs, and even the gardeners all lined up to say goodbye. Abigail’s mother, with tears in her eyes, was the last to let go of her as she got into a special limousine the family hired for her. She never wanted her family to know anything about the van. Abby led them to believe that she was going to take a long train ride west. They wanted to come to the train station, but she said she did not want to become emotional at the train station. She had two pieces of luggage, told her mother and father that if she needed anything else, she would just shop for it when the time was right.

The hired limo dropped her off at Van Goes Vans. She thanked Jeffrey for all the good work he did and for storing her van. She reached over and shook his hand and then decided to give him a big hug. For Abby this was a liberating moment, something she had never actually done to a non-family member. That hug from Abby had a profound effect on Jeffrey. He said to her, “If there’s anything you need in your travels, you can always reach out to us. If you have any trouble with the van or any of the interior workings, just let us know and we will take care of it for you right away. If you’re traveling into other states, we will make arrangements for you to have anything that’s not working properly fixed, including the van.” Abby replied by giving Jeffrey a second big hug and said, “You’re my man, Jeffrey, you’re my man. I know I can count on you.”

Abby hits the road.

The season was spring, and it was warm, her windows were rolled down. She tuned the radio to a local Soft Rock station. Her hair was in a high tight ponytail. She pulled off the road into a Walmart superstore parking lot. She pulled down the visor looked in the mirror and thought to herself, “No more fixed-up hair for me. From now on I'll let it go and let it do what it wants to. And these clothes have got to go.”

The great part about her van was all she had to do was step back away from the driver seat and open one of the drawers, where she stuffed some of her clothes. Thinking to herself, “These are the old Abigail clothes. I need Abby's clothes.” It was time for Abby to shop. This would be the first time in her life that she went into a grocery store and shopped for food, beverages, and this time clothes.

Abby went straight to the junior apartment to look for her new wardrobe. She thought that Walmart was going to have the best offerings for her new look. The first thing she picked up was a tank top. Blazed across the front were the words, “Get Real”. “That says it for me, I’m definitely getting real.” She said it loud enough that people close by could hear her. She smiled at them and they smiled back approvingly. One lady even spoke out and said, “You Go Girl.” Abby did not exactly understand what “You Go Girl” meant, but she thought, “That’s me, it’s the me, I’m coming to be.”

Heading back to the van, Abby was smiling ear to ear as she pushed her first shopping cart filled with snack foods, beverages, and a whole stack of clothes she personally picked out for the new Abby.

Back on the road again.

Abby's goal was to drive as far away from her Boston home as possible on her first day's drive. She made it as far as Framingham, Massachusetts.

She pulled into the Normandy Farms campground.

There she spent the night. Everything went so well, she decided to stay in this campground for a few days and take some time to plan her trip and what her new life was going to be all about.

Sitting by the pool, watching people of all ages and sizes play in the water, Abby had a flashback to the record album's back cover she picked up at the used record store. The one that somebody wrote these words., “Oh, How Our Minds Tangle With What We See In Our Thoughts.”

Abby often repeated that phrase to herself. You might say that’s what started her whole desire or mission to become a writer. Traveling in the Dodge van would become her own personal creative sanctuary. Abby knew she would experience for the first time all that her imagined real life had to offer. Unencumbered by her well meaning, but overbearing parents and family members, the new Abby or perhaps the latent Abby would emerge

Was Abby scared? Yes. She new life on the road as a woman traveling alone could be problematic. She wanted the adventure, Abby had no idea what was in store for her.

End of part one.

Part two goes heavily into her fortunes and misfortunes as she learns to write from real unvarnished life.

A Christmas Karo

By Rod Jones Artist-Writer

Crestline, California, a small mountain community where I grew up. Just about this time of year or nearly so, my mother, Helen Jones, would start her kitchen magic. Cookies, fudge, fruit cake, and my all-time personal favorite, that I’m not going to share with you just yet.

My mother was not what you would call a Martha Stewart, but she knew how to please her family with delightful holiday dishes, and desserts.

One of her, not-so-secret ingredients that she used to make my favorite holiday treat was Karo Syrup. Can you guess what that simple but yet pleasing to my taste buds holiday treat was?

My favorite holiday treat, which I learned to enjoy as many times as I could throughout the year, was about the size of a baseball. It can be green and they can be red or they can be kind of yellow with cashew nuts embedded in them. What do you think?

After I graduated from high school I went into the United States Navy and was stationed aboard a submarine. We traveled all over the South Pacific doing covert operations. I was often away from the United States a year or more at a time. On one Christmas, we were out at sea. But we received orders to meet up with an aircraft carrier to pick up our mail. The crew was ecstatic. We had not received mail in well over a month. The mail was transported over to our submarine via helicopter. There were several mailbags full to the brim.

As was the custom, the mail was distributed by the Yeoman. When he found me in the sonar room, he was all smiles because he had a nice big package for me along with several letters. I looked down to see who the package was from, and it was from Helen Jones, my mother. I had no idea what my mother would be sending me. Of course, I immediately opened the package. It was stuffed with my all-time favorite treat.

Yes, popcorn balls. Some red ones, some green ones and those heavenly delicious natural ones with cashews. As was the custom in the military, if you receive a food gift, you would share it with your fellow crew members. I have to admit I wasn’t too happy about doing it, but of course, I had lots of great buddies on that Sub.

You’ll never guess what happened. As I went through the submarine offering popcorn balls to various members of the crew they all told me, “ Congratulations on your wonderful food gift, but I don’t like them.”

As it turned out, I never had to share any of those popcorn balls with anyone. I managed to eat them one by one, usually after I came off watch. They lasted me a couple of months, probably by far one of my happiest Christmas memories.

Merry Christmas to everyone and especially to my fellow Navy Veterans who are out at sea this Christmas. Thank you for your service. Stay safe and blessed.

Ghosts In My Coffee

by Rod Jones Artist-Writer

Billy’s rough calloused hand reached for the white porcelain valve handle on the gas stove. In his other hand, he held a match that he pulled from the wall-mounted match stick holder. He took great pride in being able to light the match by striking it, using just his thumb and forefinger, while simultaneously turning on the gas and lighting the stovetop burner. As always, there was the smell of the wafting ignited gas before the burner fully ignited.

It was Billy’s customary morning routine to perk his coffee on the stove. He had been using his old stovetop percolator for a good 10 years. His favorite coffee was Eight O’Clock. Tasted good, great price, and it was very popular with people on a budget. When he could get it, he often opted for Chase and Sanborn coffee. He thought it was richer, at least when he drank it. He felt like he was one of those fancy coffee drinkers downtown having their morning coffee, eating expensive pastries, and talking with their friends. That was an experience that Billy always strived for, but never quite fit in.

The coffee finished perking. Billy pulled his favorite coffee mug off an open shelf. The one that had a six-point sheriff's badge. The cup was given to him by a fellow deputy sheriff.  Before time and age caught up with him, Billy worked as a small-town deputy sheriff in northern Nevada. Now he pretty much stayed home, living off a very modest pension. Billy did not complain too much about it, the depression was slowly coming to an end, and the United States was on the threshold of World War II. His sheriff's pension did not afford him many opportunities to do anything else but have his morning coffee out of the cup that he had always hoped he could paint his name on. Billy just stared out the window. Something was about to change all that for Billy, and it all started with this particular morning cup of coffee.

Billy set his piping hot cup of coffee on the small table by the kitchen window. The sun was shining in and he could see the steam coming off the coffee. Before he sat down to drink his steaming coffee, today was one of those days he thought he’d add a teaspoon of sugar in it as a special treat. He went to pull the spoon out of a drawer and grabbed a small mason jar that he kept his sugar in. Turning around and walking back to the table he sat the sugar and spoon down. Something caught his eye in that cup of coffee. There seemed to be an unusual amount of steam coming off the cup.

Billy sat down and just watched the steam coming off the coffee. It was easy to see because it was lit by the light coming in from the window.

“Something doesn’t seem quite right about this cup of coffee.” Billy was thinking, while he was staring into the cup he just poured. “Maybe I won’t add any sugar. I never saw a cup give off all these vapors. I wonder how this could be?”

The coffee was indeed wafting an usual amount of steam. It almost looked like it was on fire somehow. Billy decided to get a closer look. He couldn’t see any harm in looking down into the cup to see what was going on. Billy was aggressively fanning away the steamy vapors. Billy had to get pretty close to the coffee to see what was going on. His eyes weren’t as good as they used to be.

“Smells OK, the cup feels plenty hot. But something just ain’t right with it. Maybe this batch of coffee was bad. I know I made it the same way I always do. So, I certainly didn’t do anything wrong. Something just ain’t right here. never had a cup weirdly behave like this.”

Billy kept staring at the cup. The more he tried to fan away the steam, it just seemed to hang around the cup. Another thing that was extremely puzzling to him is it just wasn’t cooling down. It was just as hot as when he poured it. He thought maybe it was time to get closer to the coffee cup and try and look down into it. Rapidly pushing away the steamy vapors with his hand, he managed to look down into the cup. What he saw was curiously frightening. Billy saw the image of a small boy that looked to be around nine or ten years old. The boy was staring at Billy and raising his hands in a beckoning fashion. He was somewhat accustomed to seeing unusual things, especially being a Nevada sheriff.

“What are you doing in my cup of coffee, young man? That ain’t no place for a kid.”

Billy was rubbing his eyes and looking into the cup with disbelief. First, he thought to himself, “Why am I talking to some kid in a cup of coffee? There’s either something wrong with this coffee, or there’s something wrong with me, but one thing for sure, this ain’t normal.”

Billy leaned back in his chair for a minute, trying to decide if he was just seeing crazy things, and if it was his imagination. He had to look again. This time, the kid in the cup started talking to Billy, at least Billy could hear him. Billy did not at first recognize the kid or his voice, but it became more clear as the kid in the cup started to talk.

“Billy, it’s me, don’t you recognize me?

Puzzled as could be, Billy had no idea who this kid was, other than it was damn frightening and damn curious at the same time, the kid did not look like anyone he had seen before.

“OK, who are you? What are you doing in my coffee? What kind of trick is this?”

“I’m Billy, I’m you when you were nine years old. Remember back, you and I, well I should say you, went swimming in that little lake by the Zadell’s farm. You were warned not to go in that water, but you did anyway. This time things did not go well. Something grabbed you and pulled us under. Unfortunately, you drowned. Our parents and everyone in town, and the farmers looked for you everywhere there was no trace, not even the clothes you left behind on the beach. I’m sorry to tell you this Billy but you are long dead.“

“What do you mean I’m dead? I’m sitting here minding my own business. Trying to have my morning coffee and you show up. You do kinda look like me as best I can remember. But who are you fooling? I must be losing my mind, but I do remember that pond. I went there often, even though I wasn’t supposed to. I never told anyone that I went in that water. So if I’m dead and gone, what am I doing here in the shack of the house, drinking my coffee out of my sheriff’s mug? I know I was a sheriff, everyone respected me. They looked up to me. I did good work in the community I served.

By now, all of the steam that was coming off the cup of coffee was gone. Billy had a clear view into the cup. He could easily see the young boy, and he could easily hear the young boy talking to him.

“I ain’t buying your story kid, I don’t know who you are, and I sure as hell don’t know why you’re talking to me here and now, seems to serve no purpose, except making sure I’m not getting my morning coffee. If I’m so dead, why are you even here talking to me? Shouldn’t I be with the angels or maybe that other place way down? And while I’m at it, what grabbed me and held me under so I drowned?”

“You were warned time and time again not to go swimming in that pond. There was a creature living there. You’re not the only one who lost their life there. I can’t tell you much about that creature cause I don’t know myself. I just know that was the reason we drowned.”

“Well, if what you’re telling me is even half true, now what? If I ain’t supposed to be here, then where am I supposed to be? Heaven or Hell.”

“There’s going to be a great war, Billy. It’s going to impact much of the world when all is said and done. It’s going to be called World War II.”

“Well, if I’m dead, what does it have to do with me? Even though I’m pretty sure I’m not dead.”

“Billy, go over to your door and open it, look outside, and tell me what you see?”

Billy went over to the door and opened it.

“I don’t see a damn thing. Everything is gone. Everything is white like a white fog. Where the hell is everything?”

Billy went back to his cup of coffee, looked in again, and said,

“If I’m no longer here, and I’m dead and gone, why are there ghosts in my coffee? If you’re me when I was nine years old, then who am I, huh? ”

“I’m going to explain everything to you Billy. I actually grew up. I did not drown, but you did. The family ended up moving to England. That’s where I primarily grew up. You were me, actually you still are in some sense. You have been held in a state of limbo, a parallel universe.”

“What the hell is a limbo state? What do you mean by whatever you said universe?”

“The best way I can explain it as a nine-year-old, is you are in neither world. The world that you’ve come to know really for you did not exist. Think of it as if you were in a stage play. You were living, but not in the human sense.”

“Well, what the hell boy! This is nothing more than a bunch of road-apples! I’m going to pour the cup of coffee you’ve been talking to me from down the toilet and give it a good flush. I don’t need this nonsense. I’m already thinking that I’m crazy and you’re pushing it along.”

“OK but before you do, you should hear me out, it’s rather important. You’re going to find yourself in England. You will have a faint memory of having this conversation. When you thought you lived as a sheriff and you wore a uniform, now you’re going to be wearing a British soldier's uniform. In the not-too-distant future World War II is going to break out. There’s something that you’re going to do for a man called Winston Churchill. Believe it or not the universe has been saving you specifically for this task, using the tricks and tactics you learned as a country sheriff. Those tactics are embedded deep within your subconscious and are going to become critical in helping England survive this horrible war. For that matter, save much of the world.”

“You gotta be kidding me. That all sounds pretty far-fetched and quite frankly stupid. Why can’t I just have my coffee and stare out the window like I usually do? Hell, I may quit drinking coffee altogether, ghosts or no ghosts in it. How can you say I drowned? How can you say, you are me? How can you say, I’m gonna have something to do with some damn war? If this is some kind of joke or magic trick being put on me, it ain’t funny. I’m gonna pour this cup of coffee down the toilet right now.”

“I think that’s probably a good idea Billy. I will reach out to you again in London. When we meet up. People will say we look like brothers. I suppose in a strange sense we are.”

The Desert Beer Bar Ocotillo Wells

By Rod Jones Artist-Writer

“John! Hey buddy, pour me another beer. What is this my third one? Maybe I better have some tomato juice to top this one off.”

“Coming up, Pete. You're in luck. We were out of the good stuff. Got some Sacramento tomato juice delivered yesterday. A little tomato juice mixed in beer doesn't get any better than that, especially when it's dry and hot out.”

“Am I hearing things John? That's got to be the third or fourth time I've heard that song, something about seeing clearly now.”

“No, you’re not hearing things Pete. This guy comes in here, usually late afternoon or in the evening. He asks me for change for the jukebox, quite a bit I might add. Then he seems to play that same song over and over, pretty much the whole time he’s in here.”

“What is that song anyway John? Why would anyone play it that much? It sure ain’t old country.”

“It’s called, I Can See Clearly Now. It was written and recorded by this guy named Johnny Nash, so I've been told by one of my lady customers.”

“I don't remember hearing that in here before John.”

“He’s been here before when you were here. Usually, you were busy talking to somebody. You're pretty outgoing Pete, I’m surprised you never talked to him.”

“Maybe I have, and just don’t remember him. What’s the guy look like?”

“He’s kinda muscular, not very tall. Usually wearing dark t-shirts. The few ladies that come in here seem to like him a lot. I’m pretty sure he’s not from here. See for yourself he’s standing over by the jukebox, playing that song.”

“ I see him. Why do you say he’s not from around here?”

“He drives a nice car, not a truck with dirt all over it. You know, kinda like yours Pete, with white dust and dirt all over it.”

“Well then he ain’t working at the prestigious Anza Borrego Gypsum Company. Besides, if he was, I would know it.”

“Is that what you’re calling it nowadays Pete, prestigious? Pretty fancy name for a place that is covered in white powder, and probably not all that healthy for anyone that works there, probably why it’s stuck out in the middle of nowhere.”

“Well it’s certainly out in the middle of nowhere. As you know it takes us all a good hour to get there. And on a barely 2 lane pothole ridden road, that gets flooded out when there is one of those rare desert downpours. I think I’m gonna go over and talk to this guy who keeps playing that see clearly song. Maybe he works at the Gypsum Co, and I just don’t recognize him. No one can see clearly at that God forsaken operation, especially with all the face gear we have to wear so we can breathe.”

“Good idea Pete, I'd be curious to find out what he has to say to you. The only time I talk to him is when I’m giving him change or he’s picking up a beer for himself. Actually, he has purchased several pitchers of beer and shared them with some of the ladies and others that he ends up talking to. Of course, that’s not when he’s preoccupied at the jukebox. I laughingly think he’s crying in his beer while he’s listening to that, seeing clearly song over and over.”

“ Excuse me Buddy, can I ask you a question?”

“My name isn’t buddy. My name is Ed, my friends call me Eddie. Now, who are you? I’ve seen you here. You’re usually sitting up at the bar talking to the bartender.”

“My name is Pete, and that’s all that anybody ever calls me, which is OK by me. I don’t care what you call me as long as you don’t call me late for dinner.”

“ Well I don’t know what calling me late for dinner means. I’m sure it’s meant to be funny. But you can call me Ed or Eddie, and I will simply call you Pete. So how are you doing, Pete?” Now I’m guessing you have something you want to say to me, right?”

“Yeah that’s right Ed, the bartender John and I wanted to know why you keep playing that clearly now song.”

“John has known me for a while now, and he’s never once asked me about my music choices. In fact, no one has asked me, not even the people I drink beer with. You would think these mature ladies would be more curious and ask me, none have. You are the first Pete, you are the inquisitive one.”

“ Well pin a star on me. Don’t know why no one else has asked you. That’s about as strange as someone who plays the same song over and over. It’s not even a cheatin’ heart, country song, and God knows I’ve heard plenty of tear jerking, beer drinkin’ sobbing, while listening to that kind of music. It’s a country thing I guess.”

“Well Pete, I'm not sure I’m gonna tell you. What do I have to gain by doing so? I don’t know you from Adam. It’s private to me. The reason I come to this hole-in-the-wall bar is because people out here in the desert know how to be friendly, but they also know not to be questioning. Why do you care anyway what song I play, and how often I choose to play it.? Huh Pete?”

“Maybe Eddy, I am one of those highfalutin music producers from Hollywood, trying to find out what kind of music nutty people play over and over on the jukebox in crappy little bars out here, in the desert.”

“Pete, just maybe you're a highfalutin desert rat, with a little bit of jerkiness mixed in. That’s how I would profile you.”

“You may be on to something there Eddie. You forced my hand, don’t think I’d be playing poker with you. Now that you and I are becoming good friends, just tell me why that clearly now song is so important to you?”

“You’re a nervy guy Pete.”

“Eddie, I do know something about music. I know the kind of melancholy thoughts often wrapped up in them. Songs can be inspiring, uplifting, and heartwarming. But then again, they can be disheartening and woeful.”

“Wow Pete, I didn’t think you possessed that type of vocabulary, and I certainly didn’t think you had any sensitivity when it comes to the lyrics in a song.”

“ Eddie, before you start telling me, and I know you’re going to tell me about the song you keep listening to. Let me share a little bit about myself, that nobody in this bar, in Ocotillo, and certainly not at the Gypsum plant knows about me. If you tell anybody what I’m about to share, I will beat the crap out of you. You can be sure of that.”

“Let me guess Pete, you’re a mass murderer that escaped from a prison, and you’re hiding out here in the desert. if you are, I’ll probably keep my mouth shut. I don’t want to become one of your victims, and find myself buried under a cactus.”

“Well what I have to share with you Ed isn’t all that exciting or interesting, but it’s a true story about me. Kind of like the who, what, when, where and why?”

“OK, I’m listening, lay it on me. It better be truthful. Otherwise you will never learn why I keep playing that song. The song you seem to be more obsessed about  than I am. OK, I’m ready for your life story Pete, and leave out the salaciousness.”

“I’m not gonna tell you about my childhood, it wasn't all that interesting. Anyway, I’m going to fast-forward to the band I was in. I told you, I know something about music. I was the rhythm guitarist in a rock ‘n’ roll band back in the 80s. The name of the band was, Velvet Chains, out of Chicago. We toured for about a year and a half. Hit both coasts, and toured through the heartland. We had one recognizable hit that did well on the charts. Called Thunder Kiss. We made some dough off of that one. Then the band broke up. Lead guitar, who was really good, ran off with a French girl and moved to Paris. He and the drummer were the two big attractions. I’m glad I was part of it, but I don’t really miss it all that much.”

“I would never guess that about you Pete, no way in hell. I figured you for a redneck desert rat, a beer drinking one at that. I’m not gonna tell anybody your story, besides I doubt if anybody would believe me anyway, it’s all I can do to believe you. How did you end up in Ocotillo? I can’t help but think it had something to do with a woman. This place reeks of a lonely hearts club. I do my best to avoid hearing what all these middle-age women out here have to say. Yes, there are some that are happily married, I suppose.”

“Yes, there was a woman, in fact they’re still is. She has a place across the valley. We see each other quite regularly. I knew her from Chicago when I was in the band. God knows why, but she ended up moving out here into the desert. I followed her. We never married. We have no children, but we take great care of each other and I’m happy. In spite of the fact, I appear to complain a lot about my job. I actually really do like working at the gypsum plant. That’s my story Eddie, at least the interesting part, now it’s your turn.”

“Me listening to your story doesn’t obligate me to tell you mine, does it?! But, I will provide, if you keep your mouth shut and don’t tell anybody around here. I like coming out here. There’s something peaceful and meditative in the desert.”

“I ain’t going to say a word to anybody, promise.”

“You’d better not!  Well, it’s pretty obvious that I don’t live out here Pete. I actually drive out here from San Diego. I have a hidden campsite back on the road towards Anza. When I’m out here for two or three days that’s where I spend my nights. It’s definitely quiet there. But incredibly beautiful, you can see the stars all the way to the horizon. I sit in front of my campfire late into the night, and then fall asleep on a couple blankets in front of the campfire. Sometimes I take a radio with me. I listen to classical music, it magically accompanies the crackling sounds of the fire. I have spent Christmas Eve by myself, by that campfire and New Year’s Eve. One Christmas Eve I was awakened by hearing raindrops sizzling in the fire. Fortunately, it was a light rain, but like all desert rains, the vegetation gives off the most fragrant smells, especially the creosote.”

“Seems kind of lonely to me, Eddie. But I suppose it’s a great way to get to know oneself, and maybe bring some inner peace. I don’t know for sure because I’ve never done anything like that”

“You should give it a try sometime, Pete. I have to say those experiences were some of the happiest in my life. I never felt lonely. I was surrounded by the loving, caring hands of nature.”

“Well get on with it, Eddie. I want to know why you keep playing that song on the jukebox. Maybe you heard it on the radio when you were out there staring into the fire, trying to figure out what life is all about, at least maybe your life anyway?”

“OK Pete, the song that I keep playing as you know is, I Can See Clearly Now. If you listen to the lyrics, you’ll discover, the rain is gone, and there is now a bright sunny day. Bad feelings have disappeared. I’m not going to recite all of the lyrics, but probably one of the most important ones relates to being able to see clearly, all the obstacles in your way, and now they’re gone. Let’s go over to the jukebox. I will be more than happy to play that song again just for you. As I have gotten to know you Pete, although briefly, I've managed to pick up that you have experienced much sadness in your life. If you repeatedly listen to this song, you will discover an inner peace and none of the bad experiences you’ve had will mean anything to you anymore.”

“What about you Eddie, is that why you listen to this song over and over because you’ve had a rough life?”

“Well it hasn’t always been a picnic, but I’m still young. I’ve had my heart broken a few times along the way. I’m sure I’ve broken a few hearts, and I’m truly sorry for that, but life goes on. I listen to the clearly song quite frequently as you know Pete. I’m trying to make sure the years I have on earth are positive and productive. The song somehow manages to keep me in tune with myself. When I feel like I’m surrounded by dark clouds, I know that a bright sunny day, is just around the corner.”

“Thank you Eddie for sharing. You are correct. I have had some major difficulties in my life, everything from health issues to relationship issues. And truly a bunch of garbage mixed in.”

“Well, like another famous song goes, That’s Life. But I believe there’s no reason to be unhappy about the experiences we’ve all lived through. I know you are much older than me Pete. You’ve had quite a few more experiences in life than me. I’m sure there’s been some good ones for you. Maybe listening to this song will put everything into perspective. I’m just trying to hedge my bet. I figured the longer, I can keep my life in perspective the happier I will be, and perhaps, as I grow older, I won’t become bitter. Unfortunately, I’ve witnessed too many older people that are bitter and unhappy about how they’ve lived their lives. The song I listen to repeatedly may not keep me from having difficulties, but maybe just maybe it will help me wake up in the morning and see a bright sunny day.”

“Perhaps you’re right Eddie. The next play of the clearly now song is on me. What numbers do I punch in on the jukebox? By the way, how much does it cost? I have some loose change in my pocket?”

The Sublime Ending to the Fortune Cookie Did Not Lie

by Rod Jones Artist-Writer

Congratulations,  you are about to read part four of The Fortune Cookie That Did Not Lie. This will be the final installment.

In his mind, Ethan was questioning everything, especially the predicament he was in. He thought about some of the dangerous situations he went through when he was in the military. When he was a fireman he came close to losing his life on more than one occasion. He somehow always felt he was reasonably in control and had a good idea of the outcome if he kept his wits about him. The situation he now found himself in was confusing and definitely stressful. He was concerned for his own safety, but he was especially concerned for Jetta’s safety, even though he had to consider he would not be in this predicament if it weren't for Jetta’s doing.

The man in the black jumpsuit who is sitting to the right of Ethan in the van's front passenger seat turned to Ethan, who was sitting on the first-row bench seat, and said,

"Ethan, I don't want you to say anything or respond to what I'm about to tell you. Basically, keep your mouth shut. We are taking you to a place where you will be perfectly safe. No one is going to hurt you. You will be taken into an area that is pretty much like a small apartment. There you will stay. I don't know exactly how long you will be in that apartment. You won't be able to leave, you will be safe there and no one will hurt you. Just do as you're told. I know you want to know what's happening to Jetta. I'm going to tell you two things. Jetta is perfectly safe. She's on a special assignment. Everything is going to be okay with her and with you. I might add, that you are a very lucky guy because Jetta is truly in love with you. Although I haven't a clue why. But if she thinks you're special, we’ll honor her wishes. In about 15 minutes we will be reaching our destination. At no time should you say anything. It's imperative that you keep your mouth shut. Later when you meet up with Jetta, she can explain to you why. Just do everything she told you to do, and everything I have just told you. you must follow my instructions. Don’t deviate."

The van Ethan was riding in turned towards a large cropping of boulders. It stopped for a minute between two large boulders that sheltered an opening between the rocks. The van drove in. There was what appeared to be a larger opening. The van then came to a complete stop. The driver of the van turned off the headlights. He then turned on the dome light. It was perfectly quiet for about a minute or two. Then the van started to descend. Ethan quickly figured out that they were on some sort of elevator that was taking them down. It was perfectly dark with the exception of the van dome light. Ethan could not see the walls of the elevator. He had the sensation of dropping fast. It reminded him of being on a ride at an amusement park. After several minutes they came to an abrupt stop. After about a minute of just sitting there pretty much in the dark, a door started to open. It was moving vertically and revealing a corridor with doorless walls painted gray. The van began to move down to what appeared to be the main corridor. Every so often Ethan could see other hallways along the way.

"Ethan we’re going to be at your final destination in a couple of minutes. Remember what you've been told. There's going to be a person that will meet you. Follow their instructions, do not talk to them. They're going to look odd to you. Don't stare at them, just follow their instructions. They're going to take you

to the apartment I told you about. Once you go in you will discover it is quite comfortable. It has everything you will need for your stay. There's plenty of food, both in the cabinets and in the refrigerator. Seeing how you were a fireman, I'm guessing you gentlemen had to cook. There will be food brought to you three times a day. Again, it will be brought to you by an individual that doesn't exactly look like you or me. Do not talk to them, just do as you're instructed. They most likely will not say anything to you. Tomorrow someone will come to sit down with you and explain to you why you're here. You will be able to ask questions then. But I'm warning you do not get too inquisitive. They're only going to reveal so much to you, but it should ease your mind."

The van came to a stop. The sliding door on the side of the van opened. Ethan was told to step out. He was greeted by a person that looked very odd to him. They didn't look exactly human, but then again, they did everything a human would typically do. Ethan did not know if he should try to shake this person's hand or not. He decided the best strategy was just to follow instructions. He wasn't afraid like before. Even though everything he was experiencing was not even close to being normal.

Jetta had a much easier time of it. The two people she was riding with, knew who she was. The conversation she had with them was polite and congenial. Like Ethan's van, they drove into the opening between a series of boulders. The van like Ethan's, went onto an elevator and down it went, several stories underground. While driving through an extended rock tunnel they received a message over the van's communication network.

"Jetta, were just letting you know that we escorted Ethan to the apartment. He was a good boy and behaved perfectly. We were wondering how did you end up with this guy? He sure is enamored with you. We could tell by how nervous and uncomfortable he acted. He was very much concerned about your safety. But we told him that you were perfectly fine and that you would explain everything to him. Well, you will explain most everything to him."

"Thank you for letting me know that he is safe and sound. But I certainly knew that would be the case. And stop referring to him as a boy. He may whine from time to time, but I think he's brave, and I've learned to care for him very much. Who knows I may adopt him into the operation."

"Well that's certainly up to you Jetta, we are in no position to question or judge you. I guess we’ll see how this all plays out."

"You gentlemen and everyone involved in this whole operation have been nothing but respectful to me. I appreciate you guys."

Jetta’s van completed the journey through the tunnel and pulled into an underground complex. From the vantage point that the van entered it looked like an underground city. Jetta got out of the van and there was a small group of people there to meet her.

"It's good to see you again Jette. Come with us, we’re going to take the elevator up to the cross-community tram. We have accommodations for you. But first, you will be going to a secure conference room. There are several people that have been anxiously waiting for your arrival."

Jetta was escorted to the secure conference room. She entered through a security door. There was a sizable, but rather nondescript table in the middle of the room. She took her position at the head of the table. A door in the back of the room opened up, and six people, two women and four men entered and took various positions around the table. At the far end of the table directly in line with Jetta sat a very distinguished man. Everyone in the room, including the women, were all wearing black jumpsuits. There were no nametags or any identifying emblems on any of the jumpsuits. Jetta knew most of them with the exception of the distinguished gentleman that was sitting at the other end of the table, he spoke first.

"I know you have never met me, Jetta. For this meeting, you may refer to me as John. I am in charge. Now let's get down to business. Open the case. Take out the inner container, we are all very anxious to see it. I know this has been a historic covert operation. I know that you actually getting it here required you to face some interesting challenges. Maybe at a later date, you can explain who Ethan is. That was quite a surprise you pulled on us. We have done a thorough background check on him, and he's clean. I might add, he’d better be. From here on, you are going to be responsible for this gentleman. No slip-ups will be tolerated. If there are any, as you are well aware of, we cannot guarantee the safety you have been reassuring him of since the day you connected. You better keep him in line!"

Jetta unlocked her train case, besides some makeup and toiletries, there was only one other thing inside. She pulled out a small cylinder that was about 4 inches long and 8 inches in circumference. There were no visible openings. It was a dark metallic gray. It was heavy to pick up for its size. Jetta stood the cylinder on one end.

Jetta looking directly at John, and then looking at each of the people in the room somewhat boastfully said,

"John and everyone, here it is. It doesn't appear to be all that special. I had no difficulty picking it up in Mongolia and transporting it. As you know x-ray machines cannot recognize it. Now are you going to tell me what exactly this is? I believe I'm entitled to know.

John stared directly at Jetta and then asked the other members at the table to pass the cylinder down to him. Once he had it in his hands he inspected it.

"Thank you Jetta for your delivery. We appreciate how you handled the transportation. I'm not going to tell you every detail regarding what this cylinder is. But I do believe you are owed at least some explanation. It’s imperative that you do not reveal in detail of what this is to Ethan. I believe you already know some of the information as to what you were transporting. You knew that it wasn't dangerous, you also knew that if you lost control of it, the cylinder somehow has the capability of cloaking itself and re-engaging with you. Apparently, that did not occur. You did a great job keeping it in your possession. We will be inserting the cylinder in a very large piece of equipment that is within this facility. I'm not going to tell you anything about this equipment. I will tell you that once the cylinder is engaged, it allows for changes in reality. I know that probably creates more questions. But I know you understand what reality is. In this case, I'm going to give you an example. Let's say there was a nuclear attack and the results were devastating. We can reverse that as if it never happened. You're probably wondering where this cylinder comes from. It was given to us by a time traveler. This time traveler was created by us. Without getting into the physics of all this, let me just simply say that we plan on putting it to good use. The world is not, let me rephrase that. The planet since man first appeared has been experiencing chaos. The more sophisticated and intelligent the civilizations of the world became, the more dangerous it became. Stupid really! Hell bent on world domination through destruction. That has not always been directly man's fault. Through evolution, there were outside influences from other worlds. Some of those influences were nefarious. Others were actually trying to sow the seeds of good deeds if you will." We believe that the human species was planted here at some point in time, in fact, we know it was. I’m not going to share anymore regarding this last comment.

One of the women in the group spoke up and asked John if she may say something to Jette, John nodded his head approvingly.

"Jetta, you unknowingly have completed an incredibly important mission. You also unknowingly were being guided by outside influences that we engaged from outside of our universe. Your steps were being directed. Even the trail of fortune cookies were being carefully orchestrated. I suspect Ethan is going to pressure you as to what those fortune cookies were all about. We are not going to share with you from our end the why. You're just going to have to make up a plausible story to share with him."

"Well, that does help me have a better understanding. Then I'm sure you know I have questions that I suspect you are not going to answer and probably never will. Regarding Ethan, I like this guy. I am not sure if he will ever speak to me again after what I put him through, but if he does I would like you to consider making him a co-operative with me."

One of the men sitting at the table turned to John and asked for permission to address Jetta. Again John nodded his approval.

"Jetta, When you were trained you understood that we maintain control over many of your actions. If you develop a relationship in any form with Ethan, then he will be subject to the same control. The question becomes, is it fair to do that to him? And just how far are we willing to let you share with him what this control ultimately will mean in his life? He may love you now. You will not be able to deceive him. We will be able to reprogram him. If we choose to do that, it means you will be making a lifelong commitment to this gentleman. That is something we suggest you think about very seriously. You have been conditioned. You've accepted the fact that you're being controlled when necessary. You have never questioned that authority. And I know you know that we hold that control as a very sacred responsibility. As you kept informing Ethan that everything was going to be okay and that he was going to be safe. You could give him those assurances because you knew you've always had those assurances from us. Make sure you think this thing through. You can spend some time with Ethan when you're back in San Diego. You could slowly break off the relationship you have with him. We will reprogram him so he will forget everything. This is a complicated situation. Fortunately for you, we know how to handle it. But we also want to be sensitive to you. You have every right to be happy and have a companion to share your life with."

"Thank you for sharing that with me. I know that you can dictate the outcome of the situation and even block out Ethan's and my memory. I guess you're allowing me to make that decision. Once I am back with Ethan I will have a better understanding of what I should do. I sincerely appreciate what you've shared with me. I'm still not hundred percent clear on what this cylinder means. I'm guessing it has the potential of saving our planet. I find it very difficult to understand how this little cylinder can achieve that. I also know that the universe contains all the knowledge there ever was, or ever will be. The planet we live on is beyond insignificant. If it was to disappear tomorrow it would not change the dynamics of anything. I've done my job, you have the cylinder. I could surely use some food and sleep. I’m glad to know Ethan is safe."

John looked around the room and asked if anyone else had anything to say to Jetta right now. No one spoke up, so John declared that this meeting had ended.

He looked back at Jetta and said,

"You are very special Jetta, in so many ways. We appreciate what you have accomplished. You will be contacted again. We may give you the opportunity tomorrow to ask some additional questions. But our goal is to get you and especially Ethan out of this facility. We will do some wiping of his memories, but I promise all the good things you two have shared will remain in his mind. He's actually quite lucky, unfortunately, he may never know it. If you decide to maintain your relationship with Ethan we will not overly interfere. We want you to be happy. We also may have other assignments for you, take that into consideration as you decide how to move forward with Ethan.”

"I'm definitely up for another assignment. If it works out and everybody is in agreement I may want Ethan as a partner."

John, who had already stood up and was ready to leave the meeting, turned abruptly, looked at Jetta, and said,

"That may be asking an awful lot Jetta. At my level, that's a decision I cannot make. But I will determine if it's possible and let you know when we meet again tomorrow morning."

Jetta was taken to her quarters. She had dinner and quickly fell asleep. She woke up once in the middle of the night and started to think about her relationship with Ethan. "I could have never imagined myself getting close to a fireman from San Diego, let alone falling in love with him. It feels right to me. It also feels a little bit ridiculous, and perhaps even dangerous for him. I've never even had an intimate relationship with a man. This is going to be very interesting. Especially if they allow Ethan to work with me on future projects. I can't wait to be back with him. I wish I could go back to sleep. There’s more to this relationship with Ethan.  It doesn’t make sense to me as to why I was supposed to give him that first fortune cookie. That started this whole thing with him and me. Oh well, maybe I will learn someday what that was all about anyway.”

At 9 AM John and his people were in the room waiting for Jetta. She walked in and quickly took her chair.

John spoke first.

“Jetta, do you have any more questions for us? Regarding your question about working with Ethan. We've determined that you will first have to discover if this is something you really want. Once you and Ethan are back together, your feelings may change. Keep in mind. We are going to erase his mind so he cannot remember being in this facility. I'm not sure how far back we will go. He will be monitored. Depending upon how you handle the conversation when you meet with him will determine the action we will take."

"I understand John, and accept what you are saying. In many ways, I guess Ethan's fate is in my hands. And no, I don't believe I have any other questions. I'm anxious to get back to the desert shack and be with Ethan." 

"I want to let you know now Jetta, that you will be going back to Mongolia on one more assignment. I don't need to tell you Mongolia is the only zone left on Earth that still enables us to transact through an interstellar medium. We have never felt the need to wipe your memories. But that could change with Ethan in the picture. You will always be protected and you have our assurance that nothing negative will happen to Ethan. You can leave now and go back to the shack. Ethan will arrive there before you. Thank you for your dedication to the project."

"Okay John, I clearly understand. I'm ready to leave."

When Ethan woke up, he was still nervous about the whole situation he was in. He also was starving. He thought he would fix himself some breakfast. While he was looking to see what he could prepare there was a knock at the door. A cart of food, hot and fresh, was waiting for him. It was being delivered by one of those unknown characters he had met the day before. He sat down and ate. By the time he finished, there was another knock on the door. This time it was one of the two gentlemen dressed in black that brought him to the apartment, or at least that's what they like to call it.

"Okay Ethan, it's time for you to go back to the shack. You will stay there for a brief time and then Jetta will meet you there. If you're ready to go, follow me to the van. On our trip back to the shack, you will be able to ask me a few questions. And I will answer the ones that I think are appropriate for you to know."

Ethan was led to the van, up the elevator, and out into the desert they drove. Although he thought it was early morning the landscape was bright and sunny. He took advantage of what he was told and started to ask some questions.

"You said before we got into the van that I could ask some questions. I followed your instructions and kept my mouth shut. Now I have some questions that I'm hoping you will answer truthfully. Is Jetta okay? I can't wait to meet up with her again. Also, what is this place? I suspect it's some sort of government installation and extremely secretive one at that. Why is it here?"

"To answer your question Ethan regarding Jetta she's perfectly fine and you will be with her in just a few hours. Regarding the facility, obviously I can't tell you anything. Of course, it is a facility that is extremely secure, and no one, or virtually no one knows of its existence not even the President. You won't remember anything about this facility once you meet up with Jetta."

"What do you mean I won't remember? I will definitely remember everything that happened. Including those stupid fortune cookies, and that first stupid cookie that seduced me into falling in love with Jetta. I can't wait to get back and tell all those that will listen to me about this place, and what I personally saw and was exposed to. Trust me, I am not going to ever forget this. How could I? There is nothing normal about any of this."

"Do you have any other questions, Ethan?"

"Yes, is Jetta human? Who or what were those vaguely human-looking people I saw when I was ushered into the apartment? And why the hell do you call that place an apartment?

"Jetta is definitely a human. In fact, I believe she showed you how much he cares for you. We called the place we had you spend the night in an apartment, after all it looks and acts like one. The facility helpers that did not appear to be human to you, well, I'm not going to get into that with you, just ask Jetta."

The van that Ethan was riding in reached the shack, and he was escorted in. There was no other white van around, only the one he rode in.

"Have a seat Ethan at the table. Just relax, Jetta should be here shortly. We will be outside in the van waiting for her arrival. She will be let off and she will come in and meet you. After that, you two will head back to your trailer. Again, I want to assure you that everything is going to be okay and you will be perfectly safe. Jetta will be very happy to be with you again."

The van that Jetta rode in, pulled up next to the shack. She got out, and opened the door to the shack. She immediately ran up to Ethan and gave him a big hug.

"Hi, Ethan. I know you're okay. And I am okay because I just hugged you. Let's go back to the trailer and spend some time together."

"Where did you go Jetta? You told me to stay here while you went outside. I know there's no toilet in here. Did you have to go outside and pee? I thought when we first came into this shack there was a man here. But I don't know for sure if that was the case. Was there? Why did you and I drive all the way out here into the desert?"

"Yes, Ethan I went outside to relieve myself. We've only been here for just a short time. No, there was nobody else in this shack. Except maybe there was a ghost of an old prospector.  This seems like a good place for ghosts to hang out. I thought it would be fun for us to see what this shack was all about. But it's pretty much empty except for this old table and some empty shelves tacked onto the wall. Let's head back to the trailer. Maybe we can find a shorter route."

"I keep thinking that we were here for a long time. But it was fun to discover this old shack in the middle of nowhere. I wonder who lived here? Whoever it was they certainly did not have any modern conveniences. As far as I can tell they didn't even have an outhouse."

Jetta and Ethan got into Ethan's truck and headed back across the desert. This time it didn't take very long before they reached the paved road. There were no gates, no signs, nothing to indicate where they had just been.

"Ethan before we go to the trailer, there's a small town just north of here. Let's go and pick up a bunch of food and snacks, maybe a bottle of wine or maybe some champagne if they have it. Let's stay at the trailer park for a few days and get to know each other better. When we have dinner I'm going to give you a special fortune cookie, like the one I cleverly gave you so we could meet.”

Ethan's memories about the whole incident had been wiped from his brain, including all of the fortune cookies Jetta had been giving him. The only one he could remember was the fortune cookie he opened at the Chinese restaurant.

"Sounds like a great idea Jetta. By all means, let's hang out in the trailer at the park for a few days. I'm looking forward to the fortune cookie after dinner. The one that I opened at the restaurant when we first met turned out to be really special. That's how I met you, and I treasure that. Although I seem to have some vague notion that you and I have been here for some time. I absolutely want to spend some time with you so we can get to know each other better."

"You're going to have some interesting and random memories. I think being out in the desert plays tricks on us. As we get to know each other better and better, I will tell you more about what I do. My goal is that you and I become one not just physically but spiritually too. We'll just have to see how it goes.”

Ethan and Jetta pulled into the trailer park with several bags of groceries. Ethan looked around the park for a minute, like he was trying to remember something. He then unlocked the door and they both went into the trailer and started putting the groceries away. The trailer park had electrical connections and sewer connections. Ethan hooked everything up knowing that they were going to be there for a few days.

Jetta and Ethan sat down at the table side-by-side and ate their dinner. The sun was starting to go down and was developing into a beautiful sunset that they both could see through the trailer windows. Jetta suggested they go outside and walk out into the desert a little ways to watch the sunset. Ethan agreed and out they went.

"Ethan, I brought this fortune cookie out here for you to read, while we watched this beautiful sunset. I want you to read it to yourself and think about it."

"It's so quiet out here. The sky is all ablaze with incredible colors. What a magnificent sunset. I'm so glad to be sharing it with you. I'm going to wait until the sun is below the horizon before I read the fortune if that's okay with you Jetta?"

"Nature is incredible Ethan. As you say this is a magnificent sunset. I don't think I've ever seen anything like it. Even in Mongolia where there's lots of open country and it's easy to catch the sunrises and sunsets. But this one is unusually spectacular. Sure, once the sun goes down, it will probably become even more beautiful. That would be a great time for you to read the fortune."

Ethan held Jetta's hand as they both stop talking and just basked in the light of the sunset. The sun dropped below the horizon, the sky was filled with various shades of red, orange, yellow, and a little gold mixed in. Ethan cracked open the cookie and read it to himself.

"What do you think of that fortune Ethan?

"Is this fortune for real? Is this what you're asking me? Absolutely! I could not wish for anything more."

"Ethan the fortune and the fortune cookie is real and true. If you agree, your life will never be the same. I promise you life with me will be exciting and rewarding. I will explain to you why that's going to be true as our relationship develops. But first you have to read the fortune out loud so I can hear the words from your voice."

"You must know what the fortune says. I hope it's true and it came from your heart. Not some fortune cookie manufacturer somewhere. Okay, here it goes. Here's what it says; A beautiful girl with long black hair wants you to marry her. Do you want to be married to me Jetta, even though we don't know each other very well? I'm sure you knew what my answer would be. I am curious about how my life will change, maybe you can explain that to me. But whatever happens I know deep down I want to spend my life with you."

"I have much to tell you Ethan."

Jetta put her hands on Ethan's shoulders. Looked into his eyes and said, "Marry me Ethan, marry me.”

The Fortune Cookie Story - Part Three

by Rod Jones Artist-Writer

After much posturing, Ethan and Jetta are finally on the road to Nevada. Traveling together in Ethan's truck and pulling his fifth wheel trailer.

After three hours on the road to Nevada, mostly heading towards Las Vegas, Ethan and Jetta said very few words to each other, then Ethan spoke.

"Jetta, I have to go to the bathroom. We can pull into the next truck stop and use the bathroom in the trailer."

"I was hoping Ethan, you'd make that suggestion, I have to go too. I don't think I could held out much longer. We must've drank too much coffee this morning before we left."

When they pulled into the truck stop Ethan had to jockey his truck and trailer between two commercial big rigs. He managed to squeeze it in. The truck stop was overloaded with truckers. They both got out of the truck and went into the trailer. A couple of the truck drivers saw them, and started whistling at them, like they knew they were up to something in the trailer. In reality, nothing could be further from the truth, at least what those truck drivers were thinking. But Ethan and Jetta certainly were up to something, it just wasn't going to happen until they reached their final destination in northern Nevada. 

After Jetta went to the bathroom, she went over to the table and pulled out a tightly folded paper map from her pocket.

"Hey Jetta, is that a map of where we're going? Can I see it? Where did you get this map? How long have you been carrying it, and why didn't you show it to me so I could see where we were headed?"

"It's not for you to see Ethan, you don't need to see this map yet."

Ethan was mad, more than a bit taken aback by the tone Jetta took with him. He thought to himself, "This certainly isn't the sweet person that I started this road trip with this morning."

"Jetta don't start getting cross with me. We've only been on the road for three hours and I didn't expect you to speak to me in such a harsh tone. I thought we're in this together? After all, I've literally changed my whole life for you, all based on some fantasy story you've been telling me. Well, actually you haven't been telling me anything I can understand."

The belongings that Jetta brought along with her and stowed in Ethan's trailer were not much more than a small train case that she kept locked up. Ethan thought that she probably had her makeup and personal belongings in that case. She also had with her, a backpack and a small duffel bag.

"I've something to give you Ethan, maybe it will help ease your mind." 

Jetta picked up her backpack, brought it over to the table, there she pulled out a bag of fortune cookies. She chose a particular one, set it on the table and told Ethan to open it.

"Another fortune cookie Jetta, are you serious? It looks like you have several in that bag, are you going to be presenting me with fortune cookies periodically? Like a trail of breadcrumbs to help me find my way, like in the Hansel and Gretel fairytale?"

"I don't know who those people are Ethan, just read the fortune in the cookie."

"I really don't like playing stupid games Jetta, if it will make you happy, I will read the fortune. But it won't make me happy!"

Ethan cracked open the fortune cookie and there was another fortune, which simply read, "Trust the beautiful girl with the long black hair."

"You had to give me a fortune cookie, telling me that I need to trust you. What the hell do you think I’ve been doing? Let's close up the trailer and hit the road. Please no more nonsense Jetta."

Ethan and Jetta ventured on. They left the main freeway that goes into Las Vegas and headed up 190 towards Pahrump. From there they made their way over to Interstate 95 and headed north.

"Ethan, we need to find a place to park and spend the night. Our travels are going to become complicated as to the roads we need to take. I'm glad you have a four-wheel-drive truck."

"Four-wheel-drive truck Jetta? That tells me that we're going to be going on dirt roads. And most likely we will not be able to pull the trailer, if those dirt roads become too rough. Maybe it's time for you to give me another fortune cookie. Not one telling me how I should trust you."

"I just happen to have the perfect one for you to read now Ethan."

"You may have noticed Jetta that I am driving. How am I supposed to open a fortune cookie and read while I'm driving? I don't think it's safe to do that. The first fortune you gave me, I thought was great and it certainly came true. The second one asking me to trust you, well at this point that's become a given. Open the cookie and read the fortune to me, Jetta dear."

"I love the way you said, "Jetta dear." It sounded mean-spirited to me. Okay I will open the fortune cookie for you, I want you to drive safely. Here's what this fortune says.

“Your future is bright with me. That should make you happy. That means this could be the start of a beautiful relationship between you and I."

"I like the part about the beautiful relationship between you and me, Jetta. Again the fortune is suggesting to me, what I had already hoped for. But I guess that's kinda good. Now I'm starting to get anxious to read more of these silly fortune cookie fortunes. Although I have a strange feeling these fortunes are going to change unfavorably like a dust storm in the desert."

It was early afternoon by the time Ethan and Jetta found a place to park and spend the night.

"I'm hungry Ethan, I'm very hungry. I hope we fix a nice leisurely lunch and enjoy it together."

"Me too Jetta, I'm not used to going this long without eating. Breakfast seems like it was a long way back. My stomach is rumbling, sounding like an unhappy lion at feeding time at the zoo. Let's have some hearty canned soup and sandwiches. There's plenty of roast beef in the refrigerator. Let's work together to make this lunch, come together."

"That sounds wonderful to me Ethan. I guess we can't live on eating fortune cookies."

"Oh that's very funny Jetta. Not! I suppose you want me to open one up for dessert to see what's up next?

"What a great idea Ethan. I will share another fortune cookie with you after we eat."

Ethan and Jetta had a pretty peaceful lunch on the trailer table. Instead of sitting across from each other Jetta insisted they sit side-by-side. Which was happily agreed to by Ethan.

"As promised, here is your dessert Ethan, a nice fresh fortune cookie. Open it up and read your fortune out loud."

"Okay Jetta, I think this is kind of childish, but I have nothing to lose. Here's what my fortune says. ‘You are going to have a romantic encounter.’ That's nice, so who am I going to have this romantic encounter with, you Jetta? I hope."

Subscribe now

"We'll see Ethan. Maybe the next fortune cookie will set a date and time. Meanwhile, let's spend the night here. If we leave early tomorrow morning we should reach our final destination."

6 AM. Jetta went over to where Ethan was sleeping and woke him up.

"Let's get going. Let's eat something, can we take a shower?"

"There should be enough water Jetta for both of us to take a quick shower. We will have to refill the tank again at some point. I'm actually looking forward to today's journey. I've been dreaming all night, wondering if my last fortune cookie fortune is going to come true and when it will?"

"Don't worry Ethan, everything is going to be wonderful."

Ethan and Jetta stopped at a gas station to make sure their gas tank was topped off. Jetta was emphatic about making sure they had plenty of gas. She even asked Ethan to make sure the extra gas cans in the back of the truck were full. Heading north again in the state of Nevada required them to change highways and roads frequently. Carefully following Jetta's map and her instructions to Ethan as to where he needed to go. After nearly 6 hours of driving Jetta told Ethan to pull off the road and find a place to park.

"We should eat something now and make sure our stomachs are full. The rest of this journey could be a little trying on our nerves. It would help if our stomachs were full and we drank an adequate amount of water."

"I'm all for eating now Jetta. I was wondering if I’m going to get another fortune cookie for dessert?

Both Ethan and Jetta sat down at the table again side-by-side, and quietly ate together. Once during their meal Jetta got up and pulled her train case out of a cabinet, she inspected it carefully, making sure it was still locked. Then she sat back down next to Ethan, pulled out another fortune cookie from her backpack, and handed it to him.

"Read your fortune Ethan."

"I don't understand you Jetta? You're beautiful and strange at the same time. You can be sweet and flirtatious one minute, then you become demanding and kinda businesslike. But apparently I must like it because I'm still sitting here with you, and watching you giving me another damn cookie! Okay here's what this fortune says. ‘Face the challenge and never give up.’ That sounds a bit doomy Jetta. Maybe I'm reading way too much into it, but it's pretty ominous, don't you think?"

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you Ethan. There will be some challenges to face once we reach our final destination. But trust me everything is going to work out okay. I will not let you down. I will never let anything happen to you that will hurt you in any way, shape or form."

"I'm not sure I find what you just said to me Jetta all that comforting. I may be stupid for going on this trip with you, but I'm here so let's see how it goes, and how it ends."

Jetta took her map out and studied it carefully. Made some comments to herself under her breath, but Ethan could partially hear her over the sound of the truck.

"What are you saying to yourself Jetta? You're mumbling something while you're looking at your precious map. I have a feeling you're going to be telling me to do something. The way I figured, we must be getting pretty close to our final destination."

"You're partially right Ethan. About 2 miles ahead off to the left there is a small trailer park. They know we’re coming. We can drop the trailer off there. It will be safe, so don't worry."

"Were going to leave my trailer in some small trailer park that I know nothing about Jetta? 

"Yes, turn in here Ethan, stop worrying."

“The whole trailer park, I should say the very small trailer park, is rundown, and only has a few very old trailers. Yet I see there is a brand-new white van parked in one of the spots. I couldn't see a license plate. Explain to me why there's one new vehicle in this whole park. Now I suppose you're going to hand me another stupid fortune cookie."

"Ethan. Your trailer is going to be perfectly safe in the park. I've already made arrangements, everything is paid for. They will take good care of your trailer and they won't mess with it. As soon as we drop off the trailer. I'm going to give you another fortune cookie to read."

"What if I just take your stupid fortune cookie and stomp on it, and not read it? What can you possibly do?

"Well for one thing Ethan, I don't think your curiosity would allow you to do that. I know you well enough to know that you're looking for answers, and maybe this fortune will answer at least some of your questions. Then again it may make you even more curious and want to continue with me."

The trailer was safely parked in the small and somewhat remote trailer park. There were about five very old trailers from the 40s and 50s permanently sheltered in this park. Jetta suggested they take some food with them and some extra water. Ethan agreed and put everything in the truck. Jetta grabbed her train case and put it in the cab of the truck.

"It looks like we have everything we need Ethan. But before we start out, crack open this fortune cookie."

"You're right about one thing Jetta, I'm too curious not to read the fortune, hand it over. Seeing how I feel like we're abandoning my trailer that I dearly love, thanks to you. Let's see what the fortune cookie has to say this time. ‘You will be surrounded by emptiness but you will meet a new friend.’ Okay, so I'm going to meet a new friend. A woman or a man? I guess it was too much to ask the stupid cookie to give me the full story."

"It's going to be a man. In fact is going to be a relative of mine. Start the truck, let's get started. We will travel about 40 miles on this road, then we will be turning off onto a dirt road. You probably will not need your four-wheel-drive at least not at first. At some point we will be driving on a road with deep sand. I'm pretty sure you will need to kick it into four-wheel-drive when we reach that point."

Jetta pulled out her map again and told Ethan where he was to turn off the paved road and onto the dirt road.

"Jetta, are you sure this is where we are supposed to turn off? There's a gate and there are signs all over the place warning about radioactivity, and to stay out. There's even big signs that say no trespassing. I'm not up for breaking any kind of law. How are we to get through this gate anyway? It's locked with a heavy chain."

"Just pull off the road and drive up to the gate. The reason you see all these warning signs is because this is the area they used to test the atom bomb. There is very little or no radiation or contaminants left. They just keep the signs here to keep people out. They still do experiments on the desert animals to see generationally what has happened to them since they detonated all those A-bombs. Just stay in the truck. I'm going to open my train case, I have the key to the gate. Drive through and wait for me, I have to relock the gate."

"Well aren't we still trespassing Jetta? And how come you have a key to this gate? That just doesn't make sense. I know you have been very secretive with your little case. What else do you have tucked away in there? Okay, for now I will do as you say, unlock the gate."

Jetta unlocked the padlock, dropped the chain, and pushed the gate to its full open position. Ethan drove the truck through and waited for her on the other side. Ethan realized that Jetta's train case was sitting on the floor next to him. He picked it up to see if he could look inside. It was much heavier than he expected, and it was completely locked. He tried but he couldn't open it. He saw Jetta in the passenger side mirror and immediately put the case back on the floor.

"I saw you Ethan, I saw you trying to look in my case. Don't you dare do that. That could be very dangerous for you. Don't do it! I told you I would look after you, so don't open that case under any circumstances. If something should happen to me just bury it and leave it alone. And don't tell anybody where you hid it. Ever!"

"What the hell Jetta? What the hell is in that case that makes it so damn dangerous? Why have we even been carrying it? If you're looking out for my safety, why’s it in the truck with us? Here we are heading out into this god forsaken desolate desert, where they dropped God only knows how many bombs. We're heading into a no trespassing zone, and sitting next to me on the floor is a case that has something in it that could do us harm. And don't tell me you can hand me another one of your stupid fortune cookies to explain all this away."

"Don't worry Ethan. Everything is going to be okay. As I promised you before, and I'm keeping that promise. Nothings going to happen to you, that you can't easily deal with. I only have two fortune cookies left to give you. I'm not going to give either one of them to you now, that will come much later."

Ethan and Jetta headed straight out into the desert. The further they drove in, all the vegetation began to disappear. The land became very barren and almost looked like the surface of another planet. Up in the distance Ethan could make out what looked like a small house or a shack.

"There's absolutely nothing out here Jetta, you can see for miles, there's not even a cactus or a desert plant. Even the rock formations seem to be disorganized and not very large. I suppose that has something to do with detonating all of those bombs." 

"That's very strange Jetta, it looks like there is a house or something like it up ahead, although it's quite a distance away it's hard to tell."

"You correct Ethan, there is a small house there. And we will be stopping. I'm going to introduce you to someone when we get there."

Ethan pulled his truck up next to the small shabby house. It was obvious to him that this place had no utilities.

"Let's get out, there's someone here I want you to meet."

"Meet who Jetta? I don't see anyone around, and I don't see how anyone could actually live here. There's no utilities. I don't even think there's a generator. I don't see a water well, none of this makes sense."

"Come on Ethan, come with me we're going inside."

They both entered the shack of a house. You could see sunlight shining through the cracks in the walls. Dust in the air was being highlighted by the rays of sun, making it hazy and difficult to see. There was a table in the middle of the room with three chairs, one of them was occupied.

"Jetta, who is in this room with us?

"Ethan, I want you to meet a special person from Mongolia where I grew up. His name is 

Chagatai. He is very old but you will not be able to see that in him. He has a wise expression and a youthful voice. He's here to help us."

Ethan walked over to the table, looked back at Jetta wondering if he should extend his hand in friendship. Chagatai stood up, and in a perfect English voice reached his hand out to shake Ethan's.

"I'm honored to meet you Ethan. I appreciate you taking very good care of Jetta. Now please sit down so we can have a brief conversation. We don't have much time."

Chagatai stared at Jetta for a moment then he looked back at Ethan.

"We only have a few minutes before they come to pick you up Jetta and the case. Ethan, I want you to do everything that you are told to do. You will not be harmed in any way just follow their instructions. Do not ask questions, it's very important that you just cooperate and keep quiet. Everything is going to be okay. Now Jetta give Jason the fortune cookie, I believe you have two left."

Jetta did as instructed by Chagatai. With some apprehension she handed Ethan the second to the last fortune cookie. Ethan took the cookie and cracked it open to read the fortune. This time he didn't say anything, he just did as he was instructed. He felt something big was going to happen very soon. He was concerned for Jetta's safety and his own.

Ethan started to open the fortune cookie and stopped, he could hear several vehicles drive up and surround the house he could see through one of the cracks, a white van.

"What's going on Jetta? You never told me about this. Who are the people in these white vans? What's going on? These white vans look official, like there from the government. I told you we should not trespass and come in here. What's going on, tell me Jetta.

"Hurry up and read the fortune Ethan, quickly."

Ethan looked at the fortune from the broken cookie. There wasn't much light so it was difficult for him to see what was written. About that time the door opened and three large men entered. They were dressed in what appeared to be dark black jumpsuits. There were no insignias, nametags or anything to identify who they were. One of them approached the table.

"Do you have everything Jetta, do you have the case? It's time for us to go, you need to come out and get in the van."

"Yes I have the case right here, and I'm ready to go. You know what to do with Ethan."

"Wait a minute Jette, what do you mean, you know what to do with Ethan? Why are we separating? Who are these guys? I'm worried for your safety and I'm worried for my safety."

"Read the fortune Ethan. I must go with these men, everything will be okay for you, just remember what I told you. Don't worry about me, I will be perfectly okay."

One of the men from the van told Ethan to stand up. Chagatai just sat there calmly. He knew who these men were, and he knew what this was all about. He spoke to Ethan.

"Ethan, just follow the instructions like you were told by Jetta and I. Everything is going to be okay for you and Jetta."

"Oh yeah Chagatai, I don't find anything remotely normal about this whole situation starting with how I met Jetta, and all of these stupid fortune cookies, not to mention this mysterious train case. This looks like we are being abducted, especially me. I just want to get back to my trailer and go back to San Diego. I don't want to be any part of this."

As Ethan was being led out the door to one of the white vans, he looked at the fortune he had crumpled up in his hand. It read, 'It’s time for you to do as you're told.’ Ethan decided he better heed that advice. He didn't think Jetta would allow anything bad to happen to him. He followed the instructions she had given him before, and in the fortune he just read.

Ethan was told to get into the van and sit down. He was told to stay quiet, don't ask any questions. He was reassured that everything would be okay and that Jetta was safe.

At this point Ethan did exactly what he was told. He could see off in the distance the first white van that was carrying Jetta. There was a second van following the one Jetta was in.

The caravan of white vans was making its way across the desert. After about an hour and half the vans drove up to a large pile of boulders. It took another 30 minutes of driving on a barely distinguishable road to get to what appeared to be their final destination.

There was a hidden opening in the rock formation. The van that Jetta was riding in and the second van went through the opening. The van Ethan was riding in continued on, then turned onto another indistinguishable dirt road.

This is the end of part three. Part four will reveal what's going on inside Jetta's train case. Why all the secrecy? Why all the twists and turns. In part four much will be revealed.

If you haven't read part one and part two of the short story entitled, The Fortune Cookie That Did Not Lie, then give it a go, you won't be disappointed, especially if you like a good mystery.

Fortune Cookie That Did Not Lie: Part Two

by Rod Jones Artist-Writer

You're probably wondering where the fortune from an innocent fortune cookie is going to take you in part two of the story. If you like suspense, supernatural drama, and a small measure of romance, here’s an idea. I suggest that you go to your favorite place, a cozy place I hope, sit down and read. I guarantee you won't be disappointed, perhaps a little surprised, maybe even shocked, but definitely not disappointed.

The two principal characters, Jetta Wong and Ethan Brown were destined to meet and it all started with a fortune cookie. You might say it was a simple happenstance. Nothing could be further from the truth as you will discover when you read the conclusion of The Fortune Cookie That Did Not Lie.

Jetta pushed Ethan hard, encouraging him to take her to his fifth wheel trailer. Her conviction in Ethan's way of thinking was extremely aggressive. In his whole adult dating life he had never run into a woman who could be so demanding to the point of almost being insulting.

"Jetta, why is it so damn important for me to take you to my trailer? That's where I live, that's my private domain. I don't take people I just met in a restaurant to my home. It's not that I don't trust you, and it's true that I am enamored by you, but come on, do you have to see where I live today?"

"Absolutely, yes, Ethan. We must go this afternoon. You need to take me in your truck. I need to see where you live. I need to see your trailer. When we get there I will explain more. This is not going to be a romantic adventure. I'm telling you, you need to do this, I need you to do this for me. But you will also be doing this for yourself, you just don't know it yet."

"If you don't mind me saying so, you are insane Jetta. You may be absolutely beautiful. You certainly know how to be flirtatious. You make me want to be with you. I'm just a simple firefighter. I don't have a lot of experience with women, especially aggressive women. When I look at you I feel like I could really fall in love with you. But then the way you talk to me and your assertiveness scares me. You're like a small unattended campfire. All of a sudden, a gust of wind blows the embers into the trees. Within a short time it starts a raging forest fire."

"I'm not that careless Ethan, and I'm not going to be a raging fire in your life. I can assure you that you are about to witness something… Oh well I'm not gonna say anymore now. Let's go to your trailer. I promise I'm not going to do anything stupid. I won’t try to rob you. And I can assure you I'm not going to try and seduce you. And I'm quite confident that you're not going to try and seduce me. I trust you Ethan.

Ethan drove back to the restaurant from his trailer at 3 PM to pick up Jetta. She was waiting for him out front by the main entrance to the restaurant. He drove up next to her and rolled down his window.

"Okay Jetta, I'm here. Hop in. My trailer is only about 15 minutes, if that from here."

"Thank you Ethan for picking me up. I'm looking forward to seeing where you live. You can look in my handbag to make sure that I'm not carrying any weapons."

Jetta was being both serious and humorous when she made the offer to open her handbag. Ethan did not think it was particularly funny. She picked up on that by his expression. On the way to the trailer park, neither one of them spoke. She knew that Ethan was not real happy about taking her to the trailer. He was also hoping that none of the neighbors that lived in trailers that surrounded his would pay too much attention to her. Ethan parked the truck as close to the door to the trailer as he could. 

"Okay Jetta, this is it. For a fifth wheel trailer it's top-of-the-line. And I am making payments on it in fact, and making payments on my truck too. But fortunately I have a good job as a fireman and it pays reasonably well."

Ethan was very proud of his trailer and his truck. For him it represented freedom. Not being locked down to owning a home or living in an apartment he thought would be stressful. Any time he wanted to he could just back his truck up to the trailer, hook it up and take off. Always thinking of exploring the Southwest, especially Arizona and New Mexico.

"Your trailer and truck are wonderful Ethan. They will do perfectly."

"Let's go inside Jetta. I'm not sure what you meant by saying… that my trailer will do perfectly. I hope you're not planning on living here with me, because that ain't gonna happen, no way, no way."

Ethan after opening the door, encouraged Jetta to step up into the trailer. She looked around, she even opened a couple of cabinets and opened the door to the small bathroom. Again she said, talking to herself, "this is going to work perfectly." She said it under her breath but Ethan still heard it.

"What do you mean this is going to work perfectly Jetta? I don't think it's polite to go into someone's home and start snooping through their cabinets and looking into their bathroom and closets. You won't be living here. You're just a guest. Stop being so nosy."

Jetta kept saying to herself, “This is going to be perfect.”  She realized it was time to tell Ethan what was going to happen to the two of them. She thought that it made the most sense to only share what she felt he needed to know at this point. 

"Can we sit down at the table Ethan?

"If you would like Jetta, yes we can sit down. I hope you're going to tell me in all honesty what's going on. And why my trailer is so important to you?"

"Ethan, you and I are going to take a trip using your truck and your trailer. I can’t tell you exactly where we are going, but we will be going to the state of Nevada. And no we are not going to Las Vegas to get married. This is going to be the most important thing you've ever done in your life, and perhaps for me too. Before I explain further I need to tell you that I was not born in Hong Kong. I'm not Chinese, I am ethnic Mongolian. I don't have a family. I actually grew up in an orphanage at first, and then a very old and wise Mongolian couple took me in. There is some truth to my relationship with the United States government but I'm not going to discuss that with you right now."

"Well thank you Jetta for being somewhat truthful with me. I knew there had to be more to your aggressiveness. You are so deliberate in your tone and actions. I've never met anybody like you before. By the way, where is Mongolia? Regarding going on a trip with you in my truck pulling the trailer. I have to go back to work at the fire department in two days. I need to work to pay my bills, especially my monthly payments on the trailer and the truck. Even if I wanted you to kidnap me or better yet hijack me to take you to Nevada it just isn't in the cards my dear."

"Don't worry Ethan, I will pay off your truck and your trailer tomorrow. After you see where we're going and what we're going to be doing, you may never want to go back to being a fireman again. Just call in sick. I will take care of all the finances. You just need to drive. When we travel you sleep where you always sleep. I can tell the area where the table is must make into a bed, that's where I will sleep. Tomorrow we will pick up plenty of food. I hope you're not alcohol dependent, we won't be taking any of that with us. I'm pretty sure you don't do drugs otherwise they wouldn't keep you on as a fireman. Take me back to the restaurant now. Get a good night's sleep. In the next 48 hours you will be going on a trip with me. It's going to change your life forever, in fact it's going to change my life."

"I don't know about you Jetta. To say that I'm confused is a huge understatement. My curiosity says, yes let's go I'm up for an adventure. My practical side says, what the heck are you doing to yourself Ethan? You don't know anything about this person. Jetta you've lied to me once. How I know you're not conning me into something. Or if we get out on that lonely road in the desert, and you abandon me there, worse yet you could just take me out."

"Well Ethan, if I'm going to pay off your trailer and your truck, why don't I just go out and buy my own. And I'm sure I can find someone to share the driving with. Trust me! Trust me Ethan. The trip we are about to embark on is much bigger and more important than us. I picked you for a reason. This is your destiny Ethan. You may not understand that now but you will. Once we leave California and drive into Nevada I will tell you more."

"If I discover anything about you Jetta, or what we're doing is illegal or unethical, I will turn on you in a minute. Don't mess with me! I admit personally I want to get to know you better. Although I'm not sure why. There's something about you that gives off energy that I seem to be very attracted to. Okay I'm game. I guess the worst thing that can happen is we part ways. But I end up owning my trailer and truck free and clear, right?

"The title of the truck and trailer will remain in your name, of course it will. Consider that as my gift to you for going on this trip with me. You won't be sorry, a little shocked, perhaps. For a period of time afterwards you may not completely understand what had taken place, but in the long run you will be thankful, very thankful."

Ethan drove Jetta back to the restaurant they agreed to meet the next morning at 10 AM. Driving back to his trailer Ethan was experiencing a roller coaster of emotions. Excited one minute, and then his thoughts turned to his own personal safety. "This Jetta girl is certainly beautiful. I have a hard time keeping my eyes off of her. But I can't help but think she can be very dangerous. She makes standing in the middle of a forest fire seem safer than what she has in mind." This and a million other thoughts went through Ethan's mind. He went to bed early that night, but little or no sleep happened. He was filled with worry that would morph into an exciting adventure, then back to being downright scared.

"Good morning Ethan, it's 10 AM exactly thank you for being so punctual. We have a lot to do today. Let's start by getting your truck and trailer paid off. I suspect that will take some time. We probably won't be able to leave today, it will most likely be more like tomorrow. Maybe the best strategy is to get that taken care of. Then go to the store and buy all the food we're going to need. It also might be a good idea to have some extra gas cans in the back of the truck just in case."

Jetta was right, there was just too much to accomplish. They were going to leave early the next morning. Ethan would get everything ready on his end. It was understood that she would spend the night in the trailer so they could leave early the next morning.

"Where is your stuff Jetta? I mean like where are your clothes, or whatever else you need to take with you?"

"Good thought Ethan, I forgot about that which is completely unlike me. Maybe it's just because I'm excited about what you and I are going to see and do. Let's go back to the restaurant. Everything I need is there. Yes I do live in the back of that restaurant. All of my belongings which don't amount to much are in a locker. I do not have much that I will need to take."

Ethan woke up before Jetta. He could see that she was sound asleep. But he knew that he was going to need some strong coffee to start the day especially if he was going to be driving a lot. He went over and gently nudged Jetta on the shoulder. She woke up and turned towards Ethan, giving him a tender loving smile. This was something that Ethan for sure wasn't expecting. She stood up in her nightgown, went over to him and gave him a very passionate hug. Kissed him on the cheek, looked deep into his eyes and whispered, “Thank you, thank you Ethan. I can sure go for a cup of coffee and maybe some eggs." Ethan could not believe what a warm and loving thing she just did. But he loved every second of it and somehow made him relaxed inside. He knew everything was going to be okay with the two of them.

Everything was ready to go, they were all loaded up in the truck and they started their drive towards Las Vegas. Periodically Jetta would look over at Ethan with a loving smile. The warmth coming off of her was more than he had ever experienced in his life. She truly was everything he could ever want in a woman. He thought to himself this all started over a simple fortune from a fortune cookie.

This is the end of part two. In part three which I hope will be the completion of the story you will discover what happens to Ethan and Jetta once they start their journey on US 95, in Nevada. They will be changing several highways and then they will end up traveling small roads and eventually traveling on dirt roads. What happens to them and the impact it has on America will be revealed in part three.

You won't be disappointed, probably a little bit shocked. But I guarantee you will remember the story for quite some time.

Thank you,

Rod Jones Artist-Writer 

The Fortune Cookie That Did Not Lie - Part One

by Rod Jones Artist-Writer

The long grueling six day shift for Ethan the fireman was over. It was one of those weeks that started out with just a small manageable brushfire that ended up spreading into several hundred acres. Spurred on by hot Santa Ana winds, the difficult terrain made for a dangerous and difficult time for all of the fire crews that were assigned to this fire.

Ethan was happy to be home finally. He lived in a small fifth wheel trailer. His plan was to take off in his truck, pulling the trailer and enjoying his days off from being a fireman by exploring the Southwest.

After a long and especially hard shift fighting fire, one of Ethan's favorite things to do was eat Chinese food, especially at his favorite restaurant called China Land. He usually went into the restaurant midafternoon when there were very few patrons there. He had a favorite table that was somewhat isolated back in the corner. Most of the wait staff recognized him and made sure he received excellent service, especially because they knew he was an excellent tipper. Occasionally, they would ask why he always eats alone. Ethan shared the only answer he could share.

"I'm not married, and unfortunately I don't have a girlfriend, hope to someday, hope it’s sooner rather than later. Whoever that girlfriend is, I hope she likes to explore the southwest and doesn't mind living in a trailer."

Midafternoon on the Thursday that Ethan ended his shift at the fire station. He went home to his trailer and cleaned up. Then as usual, he headed for the China Land restaurant, and sat down at his favorite secluded corner table. There he hungrily ordered his meal while he was reading his mail. This time there was a new waitress that he had never seen before. He thought to himself she was cute and had a warm personality. She was friendly, but cautiously reserved. Ethan was always respectful to people that he met and especially to women. He quietly ate his meal and waited for his waitress to bring him his check. The girl that waited on him came over to the table with a sweet and endearing smile. Ethan got the impression that she was being a bit flirtatious, and he figured she was hoping that he would give her a big tip. The waitress placed the check and a tray directly in front of Ethan. She seemed to rotate the tray so the most prominent feature was the fortune cookie. Again Ethan thought she was being a little flirtatious, but then again, he thought she just wanted a good tip. Ethan picked up the bill that was on the tray, letting the fortune cookie slide off to the side. Rarely did he ever open one up and read the fortune. He had it in his mind that somehow it was bad luck to do so. Ethan never ate the fortune cookie. This time he could see the waitress was watching him. She was half hidden behind a plant near one of the other tables, but she was definitely watching every move he made. This made Ethan a little uncomfortable, but he was sincerely flattered. He started to think of her as being damn cute and lovely.

The fortune cookie was just sitting there on the table in front of him. He stared at it. All kinds of emotions seem to be going through his mind when it came to that fortune cookie just sitting there. After he went through several minutes of, "Should I, or shouldn't I, open that cookie and read the fortune." He picked it up in his hand and inspected it like it was some engineering marvel. Again, he was having mixed emotions about actually cracking it open. Looking up and around the room again he made eye contact with his waitress. She wasn't hiding herself so much now, she was only 10 or 15 feet away staring at him directly. Ethan continued to look at the Fortune cookie and then looked up at his waitress. She seemed to be subliminally encouraging him to open the cookie and read the fortune.

Holding his four fingers clenched to his palms and his thumbs carefully placed on each side of the fortune cookie, he broke it open, exposing the fortune inside. Before even reading it, he looked up at the waitress who had moved much closer to where he was sitting. He thought to himself that she was remarkably beautiful. Again he felt she was encouraging him almost telepathically to read the fortune he had just set free from being trapped inside that simple confectionery.

Measuring approximately 2.5" x 0.5" that simple fortune cookie fortune was about to change Ethan's life. It only contained 11 words. But those 11 words were more powerful than he could've imagined. Ethan at first read it to himself, then he read it moving his lips. He then read it again, only this time out loud. By now the waitress was only a few feet away, so she could easily hear the words that he was saying. He looked up at her and spoke the words that were written on that little piece of paper.

"You are going to meet a beautiful woman with long black hair." It was beyond comprehension of what Ethan felt inside. Here he was holding a fortune from a fortune cookie, reading it out loud and looking up at a beautiful woman with long black hair.

The waitress came over and stood by the table and asked Ethan, "May I sit down and speak with you for a moment?" No matter how Ethan felt, he knew that he should let her sit down at the table with him.

In perfect English, which was never the case from any of the China Land waitresses, the waitress sitting in front of him said, "My name is Jetta Wong, may I tell you a little bit about myself?"

Ethan, being more curious than ever at what had just taken place, looked at her and said, "Please, please tell me who you are, and how I ended up with that fortune that obviously referred to you as the beautiful girl with long black hair?

"Okay, but first please tell me your name."

"My name is Ethan Brown. I am a fireman and I live not too far from this restaurant. I live in a fifth wheel trailer by myself.

"Thank you Ethan, you have a very masculine name. And I want to get to know you better. Let me tell you more about myself. I was born in Hong Kong. I grew up speaking Cantonese. After I graduated from college, I was invited to work at the United States Consulate office in Hong Kong. There I learned to speak proper English. I had the opportunity to live in America thanks to the US government. That's why I'm here. My parents, sister and brother still live in Hong Kong. I asked them if they wanted to move to this country, and so far they've declined. Working here at China Land is not my only occupation. I am not free to tell you more about that right now."

"Thank you Jetta for sharing your background. I think the name Jetta is very beautiful but it seems very unusual."

"Yes Ethan, I'm not sure why that first name was given to me. In Hong Kong Chinese people are often given American first names. Chinese first names can be difficult to pronounce so it's easier to use an American first name."

"Well I like the name Jetta, it makes me think of the color jet black, just like your hair, and now that I can see you much closer, I see you have black eyes.”

Jetta stared straight into Ethan's eyes with a penetrating aggressive look. Raised her voice and said, "I want to see where you live Ethan. I want to see your trailer this afternoon."

Ethan did not know how to respond. He felt like he was being pushed into something, but he did not know exactly what. Her aggressive posture and tone he thought to himself was downright unsettling and scary.

"Jetta, I would be happy for you to see my place. But I hardly know you. Also how do you know that I'm not some kind of weirdo that would try and take advantage of you? I think you are very pretty and I like the interesting way we met. And I would like to get to know you better, maybe we can go out on a date."

"I know you think you're right Ethan. But you and I are supposed to be together now. The Fortune Cookie Did Not Lie.”

End of part one: part two will be available in less than a week. This story is going to take on unimaginable psychological twists and turns.

As usual this story and all of my short stories are available at ThoughtRowVignettes.com

When you’re there, please subscribe and if you enjoy what you read, please consider a paid subscription. It's only five dollars a month, as the old saying goes, it's less than a visit to Starbucks.

The Prospector and the Extraterrestrials

by Rod Jones Artist-Writer

Lawrence Jones walked into his office at the New York Daily Tribune and picked up a note that was positioned on his desk begging for his attention. “I want to see you now.” His boss demanded. 

Lawrence dutifully went not really expecting what he was about to hear, from the founder of the Trib, Horace Greeley. “Lawrence… I have an exciting assignment for you.” 

Lawrence thought to himself. “I just know he’s gonna send me outside of the city, to cover a story that nobody will read once I write it.”

“Lawrence come over here and sit down.” Greeley demanded, holding a mostly puffed down cigar in his usual not so pleasant manner. “You’re heading to California my boy, mostly by train. I received a letter from a longtime friend of mine who used to be with the paper, he now lives in Barstow, California.” 

Lawrence looked somewhat amazed, “You’re asking me to go to California? To cover a story? And most importantly are you going to cover all my expenses?” 

Responding quickly, Horace explained to Lawrence what this was all about, “The answer is yes to all of your questions. Now let me tell you why I think this story has merit. There seems to be a lot of attention being given to a prospector named Gusty, who works pretty much around the Calico mountains. It happens to be, not too far out of the town of Barstow. There’s a train station there so you will be able to disembark. How you get out into the desert and meet Gusty, well I leave that up to your clever ingenuity.”

After looking at Lawrence’s expression, Horace developed a sheepish smirk, which he wasn’t necessarily known for. Horace, no doubt was thinking about the popular phrase he coined, “Go West young man.” A slogan which Horace Greeley took great pride in.

Lawrence thought to himself,  “Is this some sort of joke?” He certainly wanted to know why he was going to travel from New York City to a little town in the Mojave Desert. “What’s so special about a prospector in the middle of nowhere… who no doubt lives with a mule.” 

“This is the fascinating part,” Horace replied. “This miner, or should I say prospector, because I don’t really know if he ever staked a claim, has been telling anyone who would listen to him, that he’s been getting visits by some sort of flying contraption. These visits show up in the middle of the night, and you’re right about the jackass part, her name happens to be Bonnie.” 

“I’m still not sure what’s so interesting about this story,” Lawrence asked. 

“Well here’s what I know so far… this prospector, Gusty, claims these visitors steal his artworks.

Now Lawrence was smirking somewhat condescendingly at what he was hearing. “So now you’re telling me that a prospector who has visitors from somewhere in the galaxy is complaining that they are stealing his artworks?”

“Yes! That’s what I’m telling you.”

Somewhat bemused and sarcastic. Lawrence, holding back his snickering, fired back at Horace. “Here’s a prospector that lives in the middle of nowhere, with a jackass, claims that he is getting visitors from outer space. And they’re stealing his art collection. I suppose next you are going to tell me he has an art collection worth thousands of dollars. That he manages to tie on to Bonnie the mule, and that he enjoys his masterpieces by carefully placing them around the campfire to keep him company at night.”

“Maybe… but here’s more of the story.” Horace explained, now having a firm expression on his face.

“Apparently this prospector has quite a gift for rendering what he sees out in that desert. He uses chalk and some pastels. His art became popular in the town of Calico, which in turn was seen by some high-falutin collectors and gallery owners in Los Angeles. These gentrified folks are no doubt taking advantage of this poor old soul. But this is what I’m looking for Lawrence, I want you to go out and meet this guy, Gusty. Find out what’s really going on with these flying machines and his story about how they are swindling him out of his art.”

Weeks later, Lawrence Jones gets off the train in Barstow, California and takes a room at a local boarding house. He then went to a haberdashery to pick up some clothes to make him fit in with the locals. Lawrence then started the investigative process that he was trained for, and that he happened to be really good at. Digging up the facts and the truth about this whole business with Gusty, his art, and these crazy notions that he has about visitors coming from the stars and pilfering his drawings. It took some doing but Lawrence managed to get a ride on a wagon loaded with lumber heading to the town of Calico. Once he arrived, he asked various folks around the town about the prospector Gusty. Virtually everybody in that town knew him. Lawrence discovered that actually some of his drawings resided on the walls at the hotel and various saloons. Lawrence negotiated for a room and started to dig up as much information as he could about this prospector, and of course his mule.

It took every bit of a week before Gusty wandered into town. A fellow at the blacksmith shop pointed him out to Lawrence. It didn’t take long before Gusty turned his mule into the stable and headed over to his favorite saloon, to no doubt quench his hot dry mouth and throat from all the dust that seemed to permeate the area when there was even the slightest breeze.

Lawrence followed Gusty into the saloon and asked him if he would join him for a drink over on one of the tables. Gusty, who was always up for a free drink, replied “Sure, but who the hell are you?” 

It wasn’t long before Lawrence told Gusty the whole story of why he was there. Gusty, swirled down another beer and started to laugh. “That’s a hell of a trip, and a hell of an idea your boss had to send you all away out here just to interview a desert rat of a prospector like me.” 

“Yeah; I suppose it is, but the more I thought about your story as I traveled out here, the more intrigued I became.” Lawrence replied. 

“Well, what do you want to know, young man?” Gusty asked Lawrence, while he shouted over to the bartender to bring him another beer, and this time with a shot of whiskey on the side.

Lawrence took out a notebook and pencil. He started by asking Gusty, “What does this flying machine look like?”

“It looks like the plate I eat my beans on, it just seems to come from nowhere, hangs around for a while, not really touching the ground.” Gusty went on, while Lawrence was rapidly taking notes. At this point Lawrence decided to not ask questions and just let Gusty ramble on anyway he chose.

Gusty looked up at the ceiling as if he were looking up at a starlit night and went on. “This visitor has been showing up off and on for the last several years, maybe seven or more. He’s a pretty odd looking fellow, stringy with a big head and big bug-like eyes, not much of a mouth to speak of.” 

“How does he talk to you?” Lawrence asked.

“Don’t know exactly how. His questions just seem to pop into my head. And for some reason… damned if I know why… I hear what he is saying. He tells me to hand over some of my drawings, I generally argue with him. What are you going to give me in return? I don’t give these things away to just anybody you know. He always tells me to stop searching for silver and start to look for a mineral “IT” calls “Colemanite” he says if you do, you will become rich.” 

“I don’t know what Colemanite is. Do you Gusty?” Lawrence asked.

“I heard from a feller over at the Rhyolite digs in Nevada that it’s becoming a valuable ore, mostly found near Furnace Creek in Death Valley, I ain’t going out there… no way.”

“Why do you suppose these oddities come down from the heavens and steal your art?” Lawrence asked.

“I’ll be damned if I know. My kinfolk back East, if any of them are still alive, may get to read about me, in some newspaper somewhere.”

Lawrence laughed. “I can assure you Gusty, my newspaper will print this story and other newspapers will pick it up, so before long you will be known in most of the cities around the country.”

Gusty started laughing loudly, everyone in the saloon turned their heads to see what got poor old Gusty so giddy. “I’m going to become famous, you all, just wait and see.”

“What is your given name Gusty, and where are you originally from?” Lawrence asked.

“I was born and raised in Omaha, Nebraska my parents named me Gusty for no good reason that I’m aware of. The family’s last name was Kincaid.”

Lawrence told Gusty that Omaha had quite a history. Lewis and Clark spent time there on their journey to the Pacific Coast there.

“No kidden, who the hell was Lewis and Clark anyway?” Gusty spoke mostly out of curiosity, and was somewhat embarrassed, thinking that he should know who they were.

Lawrence told Gusty, “It’s really not important…that happened long before my time. I just read about it in a book.”

“Lawrence , looking at Gusty’s facial expressions added, “I’m going to be heading back to New York in a few days, but I would like to ask you this one important question before I go.”

Leaning over the table and looking Lawrence dead in the eye, Gusty said “Give it your best shot boy.”

“Is this story of yours Gusty a bunch of bull that you made up all by yourself sitting next to the fire, back in the hills of Calico? Or did Bonnie, your mule, whisper it into your ears one of those lonely nights after you finished off a bottle of whiskey?”

“Well… if I did make it up, it must be a good yarn— to get Mr. Horace Greeley of the New York Tribune to send a reporter all the way out here to interview a prospector. That prospector on most occasions doesn’t have enough money to feed himself, let alone his mule. I make no money from my prospecting. What little money I live on comes from the sale of my sketches. But I’m sure I could make more money if that big eyed, skinny varmint looking creature that comes a calling in the middle of night would pay me for my sketches instead of sneaking off with them when I’m not looking.”

Lawrence was satisfied that this was a pretty tall tale that could not be completely made up in the mind of this folksy frontier prospector. When he got back to New York he submitted the story as if it were factual. Horace Greeley decided to let the story run as it was reported. Gusty Kincaid did gain notoriety, which in turn made his sketches more valuable. He later moved to Redlands, California where he lived out the rest of his life cherishing a scrapbook filled with pictures and articles written about him.

Extraterrestrials may be just like magpies and bowerbirds who collect trinkets and baubles to decorate their nests. After all, visitors from other planets have learned one thing about our species, no matter what our position in life is, we often create authentic and original pieces of art. Theorists suggest that maybe these extraterrestrials are not above stealing; after all… how in the hell would you ever catch them, they’re here one minute and gone the next. Only to be reported by individuals sighting them in the middle of the night on a lonely road in the Mojave Desert, near the ghost town of Calico.

Girl With The Golden Hair 

Part Two

By Rod Jones Artist-Writer

“John, I simply do not understand, I mean that from my heart.”

“ Well Colleen, I’m simply not prepared to explain, and that’s coming from my heart.”

If you read part one of this short story, you already know that John and Colleen met at a summer vacation lake in the San Bernardino mountains. After a series of dates, they decided that they would move into a cabin, where they would live together, like husband and wife. Both John and Colleen believed that by making this strong of a commitment to their relationship they would continue to grow in a positive and loving direction. That was definitely the case for both John and Colleen for an entire year.

The first year living together was filled with a lot of yes’s and no’s. About everything from the positioning of the furniture, to what they would eat, all the way up to sex. But generally speaking, they were compatible. There was no shortage of respect for each other. When they had mild disagreements, like most couples, when they first started living together, they would just resign themselves to the surefire way of reducing angst, by simply kissing and making up.

The second year of John and Colleen living together became more challenging for Colleen.

It started gradually. She felt she was having lapses in memory. On a call she had with her mother, Colleen reminisced about a childhood memory that she had when sharing a mother daughter moment, playing with dolls and the large doll house that Colleen remembered. 

“ Colleen, I don’t remember you ever having such a dollhouse, in fact, I know we didn’t have one. When you were very young, we did play together with dolls. But no dollhouse”

“Mom! I know for sure that I had that big dollhouse. I can picture it perfectly, and I can picture you and I playing together.”

“ There never was one Colleen.”

On multiple occasions, when Colleen would reminisce with her mother or friends, she discovered that they never remembered any of the times that she remembered. This condition started to persist and it was causing Colleen a great element of anguish.

Colleen saw many unusual things happen when John was around. On more than one occasion a coffee cup that was poured for John was sitting on the kitchen table. The next thing she knew, it mysteriously ended up on the other side of the room in John’s hand. She never saw John get up and move it. 

At first, she thought maybe she just wasn’t paying attention. But stranger things started to happen. He would put down his book that he was reading in his favorite chair and tell Colleen that he was heading off to bed.

“I hope you’re coming to bed soon, Colleen, I guess reading my book made me sleepy so I will kiss you good night when you come to bed.” 

“I want to do a couple things in the kitchen John and then I will be heading off to bed.”

Coleen finished up in the kitchen and went into the bedroom. She could see John under the covers and it sounded to her like he was starting his usual nightly snoring. She went into the closet, changed into her night clothes, went to the bathroom, brushed her teeth and then headed towards the bed. But all of a sudden, John wasn’t there.

“John, where are you? I just saw you in bed. You were sleeping, I could hear you snoring. John, where are you? You’re scaring me.”

“Colleen, what are you doing? Why are you calling me? I went to the car to get my notebook. What were you talking about me being in bed.”

“When I came into the bedroom, you were in bed wrapped up in the sheets, I heard you snoring. I know you were there. John, what’s going on? Things are not making sense. Am I losing my mind?

“Oh come on Colleen, don’t be ridiculous. I'm tired. Let’s just go to bed. We can talk about it tomorrow.”

The faint early morning light coming through the windows woke Colleen up. She reached over towards John to give him a morning hug. He wasn’t there. She could not see him in the room and she could not hear him. She sat up in bed and called out.

“John, where are you? Why aren’t you still in bed? Where are you?”

It was perfectly quiet. Colleen pulled on her robe and went into the living room, calling out John’s name. He was nowhere to be found. She even opened the front door and called out into the yard, but again no response. Colleen was becoming panicky.

“John, where are you? Where are you?!

“Colleen, what are you doing running around? I’m still in bed. I'd like to sleep in, if you don’t mind.” 

“John, where were you? I reached over to you in bed and you were not there. I looked everywhere for you. I even looked outside. I could not find you anywhere.” 

“ Come on Colleen, I was laying right next to you. I felt you giving me a hug. I even jokingly said for you to leave me alone. I’m sleeping.”

“No, that’s not true. You were not laying next to me, you were gone. What are you trying to pull on me John? I know I’m not crazy. You were definitely not in bed with me. You were gone. Don’t lie to me. If this is some kind of joke. It’s a stupid one. You’re being a real jerk.”

John did not know exactly what to say. They got up and had breakfast. Colleen was to the point where she wasn’t talking to John at all. She was definitely angry. And then it started to happen. Colleen turned away from John at the table. When she turned back John was fading in and out. It was like he was disappearing. He would be there one minute and the next almost completely gone.

“John, what's happening to you? One minute I see you perfectly, the next minute you almost disappear. I can’t believe what I’m seeing or what I am imagining. I just don’t know what’s going on.”

“I don’t know what you’re seeing, and I don’t really understand what you’re saying Colleen. You seem very confused and not like yourself. I have to leave for a while and run some errands. I’ll be back later this afternoon. Maybe you need to rest. Get yourself back together, collect your thoughts. I don't know what you're imagining. Whatever it is, it’s not real, but I’m sure you will be OK.”

For the last few months, Colleen was witnessing anomalies in time. Thoughts and ideas she held in her mind to be true, time and time again invaded her own sense of reality. Simple things like conversations with her mother or her girlfriends, simply did not make sense. Invariably people told her that what she was remembering did not happen. It was a especially hurtful when her own mother could not honestly acknowledge Colleen’s remembrances as being remotely accurate.

“ Am I losing my mind? Everything becomes a blur. I know it’s not logical, but items in our home that I know I put in one place all of a sudden show up in a different place. Daylight outside the window all of a sudden becomes dark and then it gets light again.

And what about John? I know I love him, he’s a good man. I feel safe with him, but even he seems to disappear and reappear right before my eyes. Maybe I need to see a doctor? Maybe I need to have a serious discussion with John? Maybe John can tell me if what I’m seeing and feeling is true or am I just batty?” All these feelings were racing through Colleen’s mind.

“John, I’m so glad you came home. I need to find out something from you. I know I’ve been complaining to you that things just don’t seem right or even logical. Our relationship started out so beautifully wonderful, and you have been a very loving man. But something just isn’t right, it's becoming more pronounced every day. You seem to cleverly find ways to never address my concerns. I need you now more than ever. What’s wrong with me? What’s going on with you and me? Let’s sit down at the table, face-to-face, like the time when we first met in person. I need you to tell me the truth about my perceptions of myself and how you see me?

John reluctantly moved over to the table and pulled out his chair. He told Colleen to sit across from him. He appeared to Colleen as being overwhelmingly self-confident, but yet not committed to being totally open with her.

“OK Colleen, I guess it’s only fair that I tell you what’s going on inside your head. I had hoped that it would never come to this. You, Colleen, are not you. I know you have memories that go all the way back to your childhood. You have thousands of memories of being with your family. You have vivid memories of all of the people that you worked with or dated in your life. None of those memories ever happened, none of those people ever existed. I’m responsible for embedding those memories in your mind.”

“That sounds crazy John. I can now see my initial feelings towards you, that you were totally full of it, are now coming back to haunt me. You’re definitely crazy. I think I know my life, I know my family. I know my friends and I definitely know my history. For you to say that none of that ever existed or was even real is insanely crazy!  I mean it’s beyond crazy! I was beginning to think that I was losing my marbles, but now I can clearly see you have totally lost yours. It’s definitely time for this relationship to end.”

John patiently sat there across from Colleen and let her get it all out of her system. John expected her to act this way. He had been through this before with other women in his life. The reactions were always the same when he told them that they never were, and that they never will be real.

“OK John, I'll play your silly ass game. How can you honestly tell me that I am not real and my memories are not real? I’m sitting here, right now totally alive and right in front of you. This all feels pretty damn real to me. You are a real jerk.”

OK Colleen, perhaps I am a real jerk, but that judgment will be left to something that moves and flows through the universe. Definitely not a judgment that can be hoisted on me by non-entities.”

“ Oh brother John, what the hell is that supposed to mean? The universe? Next you will be telling me that you are one of God's chosen angels. I think you are totally mentally ill John.”

“You Colleen are what we call a non-entity. You are a conception created by the imagination, in this case by my imagination. You simply act and feel like you’re real, but you’re not. Remember where we met at the lake and the job you had. There was no job like that. There may be a lake in the mountains, but I just imagined that so I could establish you in my mind. At some point, you will fade away when I decide to let you go.”

“John, you can’t let me go. I know you may think that’s inconceivable, but guess what? Two can play that game. I have you believing that you imagined me, but guess what? Better yet, I will let you suffer for a while. You can try and come to a logical conclusion of what I just said to you.”

“Colleen, I, and I alone envisioned The Girl With The Golden Hair. You are nothing more than a manifestation that I turned into a reality. The very minute I stop you evaporate into thin air.”

“Think so, John? If you do, you will no longer have the very thing you so deeply desired. I am not what you think. The enigmatic form in the universe that you called upon to make me a living reality. The fermentations you think you magically control is leading to your downfall on the earthly plane. I am what’s known as a Clear. It’s my universal job to connect with people like you.”

“I don’t believe you Colleen. I can abolish you right here and now. There is no such thing as a Clear. If there was, I would know about it. Quite honestly, I hate to see you go. I actually fell deeply in love with you. I became heartbroken when you started to discover anomalies in your visible and invisible time. I was hoping that it, I mean our relationship would last much longer. Perhaps it’s best. It's time for me to move on and find another woman to love. This time she won’t have golden hair. It’s time for me to say goodbye to you Colleen and let you simply evaporate.” 

“I must say John, I think you were being sincere in your beliefs about loving me. Our time together was rather special and I won’t forget that. But I also won’t forget how you make women come and go in your life. It’s never based on reality; you live in a purgatory like prison. Have you ever been truly happy? I suspect not. I was sent here to terminate you. People like you and I should never exist. It’s unfortunate that we do. Your behavior has been the worst. Unfortunately, there are some who are very close to the devil and are destructive and hurt people. Hopefully they will  eventually be cleared out.”

“Colleen, if what you’re saying is true, and I have to admit you sound very rational, and your argument is compelling. What if instead of us making each other nonexistent. What if we built a happy life together? I believe it’s possible although I’ve never tried it.”

“It’s not in the cards of life John. At least not in yours. Goodbye John, it was pleasant knowing you.