The Survivors III – New Name

From the Apocalyptic Journal – 83 years from now.

It was one of those warm summer days where the refreshing creek soothed every part of them. They sat together just listening. Even baby Jay seemed calmed by the sounds of the water, and the smell of the it in the air. It had been 10 days since her daughter was born, and Brie was still amazed by this wonder of new life. Jay was strapped on the front of her.

He was quiet and his face was reflecting the sunlight dancing on the water. A fish jumped. He was convinced that fish would someday soon be dinner. There was no war anymore, and death seemed distant in this peace. A mother deer and her fawn approached the creek, on the other side, and upwind from where they were sitting. They both watched while baby Jay slept quietly.

“I hate hunting.” It was Brie breaking the silence in a whisper. “I only hunt in order to survive.” He silently nodded his head with understanding. And that was one thing she liked about him, he never really said much but he understood her. There was always that silent, gentle strength too.

“And we need to find you a new name.” She said in her normal voice having already scared the mother deer and fawn away. “What’s wrong with my name?” She looked at him with that “you should know this” look and said, “You know how I feel about missionaries…..how they treated my people.” There it was again, the silent head nod of understanding. “I get it” he said.

Baby Jay stirred and Brie figured it was almost time for a feeding. Brie shifted, deciding she knew the name…. “Grey Wolf…..that’s what we should call you!” “What?? I was nearly killed by wolves!” “Yes, but grey is my favorite color….and to be honest it suits you.” Suddenly Brie began a sly smile, “And besides, your name will remind you…. that I saved your life.”

H’mm, he liked that a lot, and he told her so.

Writing and Image Copyright © 2021 rivers renewed

Wolves and Eagles Speaking

I’ve never been attracted to Hogwarts and dragon tails. Yet there is a certain adventure to the supernatural, isn’t there? We can be taken so quickly to another world.

For example, Emma the Time Traveler is now flying over the Mediterranean, high in the sky surfing a wind wave, to escape the dangerous auburn-haired Countess. She woke one night to find the Countess breathing on her neck. Is the Countess actually a vampire, or is there some other explanation?

And did Emma actually hear wolves and eagles speaking?

Wait! Isn’t this a poetry blog?

When I think of the different rivers within me, there are several of them holding amazing colors and filling me with beautiful possibilities. Men don’t usually write like that, and that’s ok. Yes, Rivers Renewed is a poetry blog and it is about renewal, seeking peace, and wholeness in our broken world. I think I will always let this site stand as it is right now. I love this site.

Have I outgrown it? Probably. We are more than just one river, each of us has many. So for me I will find additional ways to share the fiction river running strong. Another website?

Peace. And thanks for reading!

Writing Copyright © 2021 rivers renewed, Image Vermont Public Radio

Wildness

There was a certain wildness in her hair, yet she really loved the gentleness of his strength. They met that first day on the same trail from the opposite directions, with diverging angles. He noticed her boots, they were much better than his, and she noticed the brightness of his smile. He said as they got closer, “No masks!”.

She chuckled and they talked for a while, sitting on some logs. They talked some more, and then some more, and they did what many young lovers do, even on their first date…..

they had lunch.

Crackers and cheese, with apples, and bottled water. They did finish that trail, and many more after that, yet together. The last I heard she still does not have control of her hair…..and to be honest…..that’s just fine with him.

Writing and Image Copyright © 2021 rivers renewed

Time Traveler

Belgium. I always loved this place but never the time period. Women’s dresses showing too much of our tops, every breath putting us on display. My name had changed many times, but here I was Emma.

As I stood on the veranda, overlooking the gardens, the house, also known as the “castle” had called me here, there was no doubt about it, assuring me I could change form and practice it. The night wind moved in as torches on brick walls cast shadows. I summoned my shawl, the navy blue, my favorite, with a snap of my fingers.

It gently draped over my shoulders, and I was enfolded in the dark color. I decided to wave my arm and changed easily into a bat, flying above where I had just stood. I looked down. Another wave, this time with my dark wing and I was the night….

I don’t mean I was part of the night or blended with it….I was the night. The sensation was incredible. And as I expected, the phantom came straight for me, barely visible. Cloaked in black and grey, a faint outline really, with an angry look on his face. He demanded, “Who are you?” “Are you the one with the red-haired Countess?”

I nodded, then realized I had no head, so I simply whispered, “Yes.” I couldn’t help it, but his bad manners prodded me, so I added, “And by the way it’s auburn.” “What??” he said. “Her hair is auburn….” I giggled and with another wave of my arm I was back to being a bat.

Overall, I counted the night as a success, as I flew around the veranda with torches casting shadows on brick walls.

Writing and Image Copyright © 2021 rivers renewed

When I Was Young

When I was young years ago, it seemed like the spirit moved through the trees more often,

and there was never any malice in the air

lingering

in the shadows,

even the ghosts were innocent of blood,

and were seldom scary.

Everything was so different back then.

Poetry and Image Copyright © 2021 rivers renewed

Note: This is fiction.

The Gift of Rain

What surprised him the most was the strength of the bow, the Living Bow. Would she accept him? How many times had he trained with his uncle? Yet he was able to notch the arrow as the bow yielded.

He began pulling it back, and his arms quickly began straining. The bow yielded more and began to sing. He pulled her back further as she began a heavenly chorus, with the sound of many voices. And further he pulled, now pointing the arrow straight up at grey clouds.

He heard his Mother’s voice…..his Mother who wasn’t there, yet was everywhere at once, saying, “Always use your gifts for good, never for evil…” He let the arrow fly, and the Living Bow stopped her singing….At first there was nothing yet gradually he felt a drop here, then there.

And eventually it did rain….over the scorched and dry land.

So it was true after all he thought.

He did have the gift of rain.

Writing and Image Copyright © 2021 rivers renewed

In the Depths of My Heart

My friends if you were to look into the depths of my heart you would find my faith in God (which has been renewed lately), a deep and amazing love for my wife, love for the rest of my family, and the heart of a writer. I do love to write, and in some ways it’s who I am.

Yet it seems to me that blogging is less popular than it was. I’m going by current trends on my site and some others as well. Photography blogs still tend to do amazingly well, yet many bloggers are loaded to the gills with social media. There are so many platforms now, it’s simply amazing!

And yet I’m not on any of them. There’s nothing wrong with social media, and that’s not my point anyway. It’s just that people are a lot busier than they were say, 3 years ago, or even last year. Some of my readers are part time, which is much different than when I started.

And now we are all streaming videos a whole lot more! What’s you’re favorite show? I lean towards science fiction. Anyway, now we are yet pulled in that direction too, with less time for blogging.

I really appreciate each of you!

I’m going to ignore trends for days of the week, and simply post on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and maybe a quick photo on Sunday. That’s plenty for me. The heck with stats. My posts will be a little different too, with more fiction mixed in,

Remember my post the “Interpretation“? I loved writing that!

Thank you so much for reading!

Writing and Image Copyright © 2021 rivers renewed

The Interpretation

I was on a long walk, on the right trail, at least I could hear the hawk wings flying low, coming from left to right until she landed nearby.

And I heard the interpretation of her language, sharing a message from Our Creator….”it’s true”, she assured me again. “Everything, will be alright….”

Poetry and Image Copyright © 2021 rivers renewed

The Christmas Ghost

Rosa heard music again, a choir singing “Hark the Herald Angels Sing”, in the distance. As she sat on the edge of her bed, tears flowing, she looked over at her mother’s picture on her nightstand. She could still hear the words, the arguing, from the last night Rosa saw her alive.

“Mama they will call me a whore!”. She knew it wasn’t true, but she was willing to say anything that night to get her off the track of Rosa going to church. “Rosa, please…it’s Christmas Eve after all.”

It was the night her mother passed away. And the guilt Rosa felt about everything, was crashing in on her now, including the wild parties, and drinking until she was senseless.

Grabbing her head, and laying on the bed, the pain was getting worse. And why were the women at her job so mean to her today? She could not help it that she didn’t know English very well. They were vicious, and all for working at a fast-food restaurant!

She shouted, “I hate Christmas!” into the ceiling, then sat up and went for the pill bottle in her nightstand. She stopped, there was that music again….. “Where was it coming from……?”

She also had a feeling, an unusual sense, that someone else was there in the room now…..but strangely, she wasn’t afraid. And then oddly someone sat on her bed…..or at least it seemed that way, but she didn’t see anyone…..

To be continued….

Writing and Image Copyright © revised 2020 rivers renewed

Note this is fiction.

The Colors of the Night Sky – Part IV

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Fusing bone back together was exhausting from this distance. She was almost a week away by horseback……

Just before dawn she decided to rest……but having touched his skin with her light,

even from this distance, she couldn’t help dreaming of him. All of the prophecies were true…..

she carried those words within her, and she could sense him, his very essence of who he was – when she healed his bone…..and even now.

She turned over, biting her lip even in her sleep.

And he could think of nothing but her, as he made ready to walk out of the landing craft into the hell of the Forbidden Winter.

The craft would be sinking into the frozen abyss within hours, according to the data.

He was mostly well, and needed to walk a little more than 4 hours until the ice field ended……

and this woman named Tana, from the Ebb People, had showed herself to him in a vision, or was it a dream?

She was the most beautiful, dazzling, yet strangest looking woman he had ever seen….Her eyes themselves seemed to be alive,

as oceans of the deepest blue. On her face were 2 small tattoos, one on each cheek, swirls symbolizing the ocean.

Her hair, was jet black, with large bangs……and yet there was purple flowing, actually flowing in her hair, in waves.

She had touched the deepest parts of him……did she know what he was thinking? How badly he wanted her?

      

Writing and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies