Theme 203 - Wall

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From @choasparticle: It once bore the marks of the bride's vermilioned palms. And the sons' graffiti in early years. Today it embodied estrangement between the brothers. The wall was dying. But even today, it allowed the widowed mother to hide her tears and wails in its crevices. "Thank God I ain't human", it seemed to say.

From @numbyaar: In the dark dingy room, the Emperor was suffocating. Darkness and loneliness hurt him less than deceit by his own blood. He knew he had to escape at any cost. In the end he was found dead and a wall bore testimony to his failed attempts. History however would call it a symbol of love.  

From @shekhartripathi: 


I woke in a small room. “How’d I get there? Was I dead? Kidnapped?”Terrified, I scraped the wall. “Cardboard? Where am I? What is this place?”Slowly I tore a hole to look through. By night I could wiggle through the hole.“Was I free?” Exhausted!! I lay there tired and fell fast asleep!!
From @sermonsinstone: 


He wanted to paint the room blue. She preferred pink. Only a few days remained for the baby to arrive. They argued and argued.
*********
She was a shy little girl with rosy cheeks. They chose her at once. “What’s her name?” she asked. “Orange”, the matron said. They looked at each other and smiled. 
From @writingchalk: 
“Chote, I have a light saber, a .44 Magnum pistol, a pair of nunchucks and a Father Time scythe. What do you have?”
My elder brother laughed evilly. He ran at me with those deadly weapons.
Thankfully, my mom came between the two of us. I replied, tongue firmly in cheek, “Mere pass maa hai.”
From @tweettabulous: 
Dark complexion. Spectacled. Stout stature. Slight lisp.Judgmental society sprout insecurities, lack of confidence and forced into a shell. Books, the only true companion offered refuge. Excelled in School and college, secured a noteworthy doctorate. The world that shunned is rather welcoming now. Knowledge my weapon, shattering the cocoon I built around me...
From @swordfish19: 
There used to be a house with a red wall in our village. It used to fascinate us. Then, the war happened and we had to leave the village. 
Many years later when I went back, I saw that the red wall stood in the same place, majestically. However, the house was no longer there. 
From @zoarcher: 
I’m in the mood for some funGliding, sliding, on a wild runCatching flying treats on my slimy tongueI then gotta hide behind hanging frames, run for my life  Helter-skelter, slipping, yelping insideWhen people houndTrying desperately to stick on to the smooth surface  Which for me, is my playground
From @fungeetu: 

He could see the wet highway. Sprawled endlessly in front, smelling of rides and memories past. But this seemed different. The smell, the sweat, the dream unrequisitioned, the desire, the promise unrequited. But he rides on hope. For riding is all he knows and he does it well before he crashes into a WALL From @quratzafar: The wall grew taller and the hearts grew fonder. 'What will it take to bring it down?' They whispered late at night. 'The death of several innocents, a carnage.' From @The_Lie_Lama: He only saw her a couple of times. Picking up newspapers through the apartment door, carelessly dressed, rubbing eyes, cursing the morning glare.       He wished she knew she had an ardent rooter this side of her bedroom wall. The room where she suffered being a shanghaied and abused wife. From @flirtingshadows: The wall was her canvas. A silent witness to her angst and its expressions. She wrote, painted and drove holes through it. Picking apart the peeling paint helped build concentration, she said. Scrubbing the color off it reinstated her belief in clean new beginnings. The wall was her punching bag, her confidante, her agony aunt.  From @vidulachakradeo: He had a long feud with God. Abandoned by father, penury burnt, baked him. Struggle killed his mother every day. He hated God. Then, one day, desperation to save his dying mother compelled him to seek God. “Aaj khush toh bahot hoge tum” screamed Vijay; resounding the unshakable stature of ‘the deewar’ of Indian cinema. From @MirrorofErised_ :  Her brutal life had thickened her soul, Her heart had but a hole. Tired of hanging emotions on her sleeve, She decided never to believe. Tormented, distressed she laid,  Inflicting pain with a blade. Life taught a lesson, She became a bitter person. Switching off her empathy, She built around herself a wall of insensitivity From @divigyaan;  Son: I don't want to study any further Father: huh? whats with you? Son: i don't need no education Father:  hmmm i see Son: what? It's my opinion dad. I think it is just another brick in the wall. Don't i think great? Father: son, i too am Pink Floyd fan. Now, get ready for school. From @vishalshriyan: He smiled as their son turned and blew a kiss. He knew she would put the child to bed. And come back and lay beside him. But not with him. Yet again he rued the one slip on his part. Nobody else knew, but he'd lost her forever that day. To a wall of silence.

Theme 204 - Blind

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From @shaaqt: Her drink was finished. Every time the door opened, she looked up, restless and hopeful, at its latest offering. And every time a man walked in, she hoped he wouldn't notice her or the shiny earrings she was wearing. She told herself that dating was bad for her heart, particularly the blind kind.

From @flirtingshadows: You were too enamored with his words, his lopsided smile and the simmering texts to notice the tell-tale signs. His tarrying, his lying, his vices. You always turned a blind eye to them all. There was little you could do, you admitted. And blinded by the light, you didn’t see me lurking in the shadows. 

From @tweettabulous: 


Strangers on a train exchanging flirty glances day after day. Weeks later, a bold step taken. Seduction led to throes of passion. The cold bathroom floor home to their unison. A night both wouldn’t forget, their bodies made to satiate each other.

Lying in bed, reminiscing how blinded by lust they forgot their marital vows.
From @swordfish19: 
The window rolled down and a hand holding a tenner came out. The note was placed in the outstretched palms of the beggar with dark eyeglasses.
The lights turned green and the car started moving. Suddenly, a crow swooped dangerously low and the beggar ducked. The astounded eyes saw this in the rear view mirror.   
From @ImNotThatWitty: I was standing there, not sure what to do. Once again in my life, I was blind to which road I should go. I wanted to go on a right path which leads me to glory. Both seemed easy and hard. I really wish, I had Captain Jack Sparrow's compass right now! .Is this the end ?
From @fungeetu: 
It's a long night. He wants to talk, there is no one around. The silence, the night are complete as is his solitude, his aloneness. He has put up with stuff in pasts,pain,barbs,bullets-life. But this here is his nemesis. His Achilles' heel. Indifference.

Complete.
Unconditional.
Fearless.
Cold.
Feral.
Blind.
Like love.
From @MirrorOfErised_ : The tinkling of her bangles notified me of her presence. The aroma of dal and rice mixed with her jasmine body odour wafted in the air. "Open your mouth, honey," her nightingale voice reverberated in my ears. Her touch sent shivers down my spine. In my world of black, she was my ray of sunshine.
From @divigyaan: Became a part of the cause. Fought his way and took it as a tast. He didn't know he was already the talk of the town.  Wagging his  tail he crossed the line but shockingly he disappeared in time. A stray, partially blind became the surprise element and the timeless story of the mumbai dream marathon.
From @vishalshriyan: He smiled as the child finished breakfast. It was a daily ritual. Even though she didn't know that he was with her. Nor that he wouldn't be around for long. The monitors showing his vital signs said so. He was thankful for the life across his hospital window. In the house with the open blind.
From @drun007: 
Pinkal read that love was blind. She never believed.
She finds her perfect love. Her world suddenly seemed different. Parents disapproving, friends advising, colleagues mocking.
"So what if my love is twice as old?""So what if my love is married?""So what if my love is a She?""It's magical for us."

Theme 205 - Carnage

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From @labellagorda: All he had ever wanted to do was maul those vicious beings that made him run, that mocked him with their stinking rubbery existence and drove him wild. Today it was his turn as he was finally faced with his nemesis: his master's Nikes! Today was the day for total carnage, thought the puppy!

From @thebongbabe: The five year old who played amongst the fields, the 12 year old who loved studying and wanted to become a pilot, the 16 year old who day-dreamed about her prince charming. They were all dead. Killed the instant she looked into the eyes of the rich, withered old man she was to call “husband”.

From @aaroo4: “So mom, I was wondering- can I not study history anymore?” Saul asked. “Honey, it is part of who we are. You need to learn that stuff” countered his mom. “ Eeks, reading about the appalling carnage in that war torn country makes me want to puke. I want to learn about robots” he whined.

From @RBtrary: When he released the trigger of his automatic machine-gun, blood drenched bodies lying there terrified him. Mental rehearsals used to be so different. Sight of the carnage that he’d caused killed him inside a thousand times before being shot by the police.

And a few-hundred miles away, across the border, they celebrated the terrorist’s ‘martyrdom’.

From @monathais:

The Blue Galaxy was puffing heavily.

There was space left for only one reincarnation.

Wherever you looked, you could see the same soul: crushed, mashed, bloodied, mutilated, slayed and consumed over and over again.

She had repeated the story for billions of years.

She was the master of her own carnage.

From @zoarcher: Rahul wore his anger and arrogance on his sleeve. Being the boss gave him the license to do so. He constantly kept his 200-strong team on tenterhooks by abusing them. While everyone braved the salvos, they silently died inside. One day, a braveheart finally raised his head and ended the daily massacre of everyone’s confidence.

From @vidulachakradeo: On a dreaded mission, he was Bill on the kill. He removed his weapons, wore his shield, gave his signature terrorizing laughter and jumped in the battlefield. “You all are dead” he screamed, massacring them one by one. They ran to save themselves. Just little roaches, they were no match for the mighty Bill X-terminator. 

From @divigyaan: The day has come. Preparations  are at their high. Guest list, check. Menu, check. Music, check. Kitchen is nothing but a war zone. Everything fresh is the criteria and carnage in the kitchen is the only way. Because, no chicken. No party. We are punjabis.

From @lucidillusions_ :

He sat there in the corner. He felt at peace; looking at the carnage he created. The sudden outburst, the violence, everything was over in a fraction. There they were, dead, burnt, a few still trying to run away from him.

He got up picked his magnifying glass and went in search for another ant-hill.

Theme 211 - Cold

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From @TitForTit: 

The taste of her coffee and music was all he remembered of her. 
He kept her sixteen year old heart in a box that was blue and black.
Soulmates are not always lovers.And being cold was the only way she could stop her heart from melting.

From @shekhartripathi: 


Her hand reaches up my back, under my tee.“Okay, just breathe.” I follow her orders.Cold hands.Ohh! Such soft hands.Makes me go all fuzzy inside.She smells so wonderful.I grip the table tight.She looks up. “Your asthma has improved!”I wonder if my doctor knows about my crush on her?From @BeingInane: A serial killer.That is what the papers called him.He kills for the thrill of it.He feeds on the victim's agony.And so on the article read.After 2 years of deliberation,the court ordered a death penalty.His last words read,'I am nothing.There are much more dangerous people out there'..That brought chills down my spine.Suddenly the world seemed a cold place.From @tweettabulous: “Achoo”

“God Bless you”, he smiled.

My heart skipped a beat; the new guy at work whom I had been coquettishly ogling at, from a couple of weeks spoke to me. Oh, his lovely smile makes me beam. My mind was somersaulting in glee. This was such a “dear diary” moment.  Thank you, common cold.
From @VidulaChakradeo: 
“Achchoo, achchoo, achchoo, aaaachchoo...aa, aa, aachchoo, achchoo, achchoooooo.” “You have got cold?” “No, I am trying to shoo the fly away with the power of my breath.”  
From @zoarcher: 
He entered the roomHis heart’s temperature: 37°CHe moved closerHis heart’s temperature: 20°CHe put his hand in his pocketHis heart’s temperature: 10°CHe removed the shining knifeHis heart’s temperature: 5°CHe plunged it into her heartHis heart’s temperature: 0°CHe stabbed her again and againHis heart’s temperature: -20°C
From @drun007: 
Stuffy nose and the perpetual sneezing. Samar was sleep deprived. To top that, Sana dint bother checking on him. No calls, just text messages.  Something was not right.
"You haven't come to see me, Sweety.  All ok?"
"You will hate me if I told you the truth.  Just dint want to catch your cold, Baby."
From @aaroo4: 
How do you like your coffee? With milk? Take any sugar?

Yes milk, no sugar. Would you happen to have demerara sugar?

Say what? What on earth is that? So, there lies the answer. No I don’t have it, I have only regular sugar.

Hot

What?

I like my coffee hot

Jeez… here you go!
From @AbhiAndNow: Her fragrance still lingers by your bedside, her memories still make you smile, rains still whisper her stories in your ears, stars still ask about her every night, and the winter sun is still as cozy as her fingers.
She is everywhere, but in your arms. You can be anywhere, but in her cold heart.
From @aaliznat: 
Cold icy fingers trail a path, trying to find the center. The center of love. To thaw, to be alive, to feel the warm blood coursing through again. To know what the planes of your body are like. Where do they dip, where do they curve. To absorb every tremor, every quiver. And they succeed.
From @vivekisms: 
It is just there. Bare and needy. This hope. This much needed desire. Cold and absolute. Like us together. 

Theme 212 - Anxiety

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From @JediKhare: 

He woke up with a swinging jolt, slightly befuddled. The early sun, that epitome of metaphors for hope, just gave him a dull ache. As the train chugged on, that raw feeling of elation he'd felt last night had all seeped out with the adrenaline. After a lifetime in the town of Samarpet, running away to Bombay seemed overwhelming beyond words.

From @BeingInane: 

She looked herself in the mirror for the umpteenth time.They've known each other for years,but it's been a year since the last time they've met.And she very well knows what time can do to people.She changed a lot,yet she wants him to be the same person,she once loved.She looked at herself,one last time and started walking towards him,trying to conceal her anxiety.

From @Kanakkupullai: 


She was waiting at the door. It was raining hard outside. News channels were screaming of raging thunderstorm.

He was returning home to his sweet daughter, when a tree suddenly crashed onto his car.
She was waiting at the door. He had promised to take his sweet daughter to movie that night, come what may
From @TitForTit: 
Grabbing onto thin air, hoping to suck in every molecule and make beauty of it. Your knees on my shoulders, crushing me down to the ground, as I crawl towards you shattered and disgraced. May be your hands are there just because I stretched out mine first. May be all they do is tremble. 
From @chaosparticle: 
His boss Ang Whu wasn't half a concern as his job was. He wanted to write stories. Here he was becoming one. And a country where people walked slowly and talked loudly. He decided he'd resign at her supper invite. The butler accosted him at the door. "Ang's high tea?" Jai stuttered anxiously. "You figured?"
From @tweettabulous: 
Do it be red or maroon nail paint? Straighten the hair or let the curls flow? How much make up is crossing the line. Stilettos or wedges? Strappy or a chic top?  Jeans or a skirt? Wear Tommy girl or Jadore? Oh must wax legs, you never know.
*giggle* the jitters of a first date.
From @lucidillusions_ : 
She looks across the room. Fifteen more minutes to five. Time passes by very slowly. She hears a soft whisper. She is startled by him. Her heart skips a beat. She looks at him anxiously. He takes few more steps. Her eyes look past him. She nods and signals her. The sniper shoots him down.
From @zoarcher: 
After exams and before the results. Between Roohi's yes and her no. While riding the elevator and when he first met his boss. As he delivered his first speech and while he waited outside the delivery room. The sweaty palms, increased heartbeats. Today as those memories randomly flashed in his mind, Anish burst out laughing.

Catholic priests in England and Wales cry out against the legalisation of Gay Marriage planned for this month.

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We Catholic priests and religious oppose Gay marriage.

In one of the biggest joint letters of its type ever written, they raise fears that their freedom to practise and speak about their faith will be “severely” limited and dismiss Government reassurances as "meaningless".They even liken David Cameron’s moves to redefine marriage to those of Henry VIII, whose efforts to secure a divorce from Katherine of Aragon triggered centuries of bloody upheaval between church and state.They claim that, taken in combination with equalities laws and other legal restraints, the Coalition's plans will prevent Catholics and other Christians who work in schools, charities and other public bodies speaking freely about their beliefs on the meaning of marriage.Even the freedom to speak from the pulpit could be under threat, they claim.And they fear that Christians who believe in the traditional meaning of marriage would effectively be excluded from some jobs – just as Catholics were barred from many professions from the Reformation until the 19th Century.The comments are contained in a letter to The Daily Telegraph, signed by 1,054 priests as well as 13 bishops, abbots and other senior Catholic figures.They account for almost a quarter of all Catholic priests in England and Wales.
Read more here : Source

For John: Considerations on Sedevacantism, I

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Dear John W.
This evening, you sent us a comment on a post that nearly two years agowas written on the subject of Sedevacantism. Providence has given the prompt. We address these blog posts to you.

St Alphonsus often quotes the Holy Scripture verse that says: "With desolation is all the land made desolate, because there is none who considereth in his heart."(Jer 12:11) 

I invite you and all readers who have taken the Sedevacantist "position" to mull over some Sedevacantist points worthy of consideration.


Fr. Joaquín Sáenz y Arriaga, S.J. (Oct. 12, 1899 - April 28, 1976). 
Let us consider that this priest was spiritual father of Sedevacantism: He was the first to announce that there has been no true Pope from the time of Pius XII; or, according to the position, if,for the sake of argument John XXIII was validly elected, he fell from his papacy at some moment during the Second Vatican Council.
Let us consider carefully: Fr. Joaquín Sáenz y Arriaga announced that there was no Pope only in 1971...... 8 years after the deathof Pope John XXIII (+ 3 June, 1963)
or
13 years after the death
of Pope Pius XII
( + 9 October, 1958).
Conclusion: For between 8 and 13 years the Roman Catholic Church throughout the world did not know that it had no Pope.
But that is impossible!
For, if that were true,
the Ecclesia docens, the Teaching Church
[which is the bishops in their divinely authorized capacity 
of teaching the faithful in matters pertaining to salvation 
and sanctification]
was duped!

Which would mean that is all the Bishops of the Church
were left in darkness about this vital information pertaining to salvation. It would mean that the Holy Ghost left the Church in error for between 8 and 13 years.....
...no...
 Sedevacantism is not credible.

  Consider the mystic Padre Pio: He could read hearts, he bilocated, he had the gift of prophesy and he bore the stigmata wounds of Our Lord. Padre Pio said Mass until 23 September 1968.He named Pope John XXIII in the Canon of the Mass. Was this prophet who could read hearts also dupedperhaps for 5 years, perhaps for 10 years?



Consider again the Ecclesia docens, the Teaching Church: 
(The Bishops in their divinely authorized capacity 
of teaching the faithful in matters pertaining to salvation 
and sanctification.) Which portion of the teaching Church considered that Pope John XXIII was not the Pope? 
(They were all together at the Council with John XXIII. John XXIII was before the eyes of 2,100 bishops.
All could hear and scrutinize him.
They could talk together.
The didn't even need to call a Council, since they were in one.Could it ever get better than that?)
There was no portion of the teaching Churchthat arose to contest Pope John XXIII as the true Pope;

There was no portion of the Ecclesia docens, that even doubted the papacy of John XXIII.
there was not even one bishop.

Consider the case of a real Antipope: Some part, large or small, of the Teaching Church, the Bishops, guided by the Holy Ghost, immediately knows the Antipope is there and declares the fact. 
This is not the case with the Sedevacantism of
Fr. Joaquín Sáenz y Arriaga. He was not part of the Teaching Church.
His theory is a dangerous error and causes
fatal spiritual delusions and the loss of souls. 
Dear John,Pope John XXIII was a real Pope, a holy Pope
and here is the proof:
Six years before 1971,
 when Fr. Joaquín Sáenz y Arriaga published his book,on 26 May 1966
John XXIII worked this stupendous miracle.


In the light of this miracle John,
consider your own soul and renounce your position. Miracles decide questions and resolve doubts.
They cut to the chase.
This miracles proves that John XXIII was a true Pope.
This miracle proves that the theory of Sedevacantism is wrong.

Blessed John XXIII,
pray for your child John
and for all who cling to the delusions of Sedevacantism.