Monday, April 17, 2023
But By an Early Age I Found
Tuesday, April 11, 2023
You Know I’m Temple!
She found her way to her friend’s bedroom. Gently climbing on top of her, her knees on her friend’s shoulders awakened her. Placing her hand over the girl’s mouth she said, “Shhhh!”
“Karly? What are you doing here?” The teenage girl asked.
“Why did you take me to those men?” Karly said.
“Karly, I didn’t know. Honest. I thought we’d just party a little. My grandfather knew them. He was there!”
“I know he was. He raped me!”
Her friend began to understand the gravity of her situation.
“I never did those things. You know I’m Temple! Why did you let it happen? You watched!” Karly was truly hoping her best friend would tell her something, anything that would dilute the metallic taste in her mouth at that moment.
The girl she pinned down was confused. “I don’t know. We were just having fun.”
Upon hearing the statement “WE were just having fun a rage began to build inside Karly’s soul. This was still her friend, but she realized that her best friend had been a participant in the real party that night. “It wasn’t fun for me. But I love you. I know you’re not Temple, but if you ask Heavenly Father for forgiveness, I will let you go.”
Her words fell upon deaf ears. All illusions fell away, and the devil spoke. “You’re crazy. Let me up!”
Karly stared down at the girl she’d had pillow fights with. She saw her friend in a different light. Still, she had feelings for her. She wanted her friend to be waiting for her in the Kingdom of God. God would make everything right, and the devil would have no hold anymore. Her blood must touch the ground, or floor, but it must be spilled! As for the others in the house? That Satan’s spawn could go back to hell where they came from! Putting her hand on her friend’s forehead she said, “I’m sorry” and slit her throat.
Saturday, April 8, 2023
Something Going On
1 Peter 3:18-20
“For Christ also suffered once for sins, the righteous for the unrighteous, that He might bring us to God, being put to death in the flesh but made ALIVE in the Spirit, in which He went and PROCLAIMED to the Spirits in prison, because they formerly did NOT obey, when God’s patience waited in the days of Noah, while the ark was being prepared, in which a few, that is, eight persons, were brought safely through water.”
Oh…to be a fly on the wall when Jesus triumphantly APPEARED in Hades to SHARE the “Good News” of His POWER, TRUTH, MAJESTY, AWE…and fulfilling His Promise that the Temple (Him) would be destroyed…but three days later would be built back up again.
Can you just imagine the look of shear PANIC and FEAR on the faces of powerful demons who believed that they had just KILLED the Son of God? ALL of darkness we’re celebrating…until HELL exploded with the Marvelous LIGHT from the King of Kings, Lord of ALL Lords…and NOW the Savior of the World. A silence now filled the corridors of this forsaken place as Jesus PREACHED to those who met their deaths from the great flood…where only 8 Souls were saved out of millions.
The very moment Jesus whispered out with His last breath, “It is FINISHED!!!”…He was immediately…and MIRACULOUSLY very much Alive within the Spiritual Realm. He was now all POWERFUL and in FULL command of ALL Creation…as He became God!!!
My Brothers and Sisters…we serve a Mighty God…and we have made our decisions to FOLLOW our Glorious King, Jesus…as He alone has offered a pathway to His Home…Heaven…through the shedding of His precious BLOOD for ANYONE who chooses to BELIEVE.
Have a BLESSED Saturday Y’all!!!
There was a lot goin on that Saturday…2,000 years ago. Can you just imagine?
VQ
Case Closed
Plano looked at his feet. “Where can I move forward to gentleman? Look at it from my perspective. We’re not in Austin. We’re in Utah. This place was designated by Brigham Young as the place. Back then this was Mexico. And all your rights, your constitution . . . they didn’t apply to us! A man’s home is his castle? Unless you’re a Mormon! You have too many wives. The wolfpack comes. Burns down your house. Kills you and your kids. You and others like you see your leader killed. You leave. You leave the whole country. You go to the desert by a salty lake and figure out how to bring fresh water down from the mountains to water your crops. Suddenly you’re in America again. And all the filibusters come to bring “prosperity “ and their idea of the rule of law. But that rule of law doesn’t apply to us. In California a man can marry a man, a woman can marry a woman, a tiger can marry a chair, but a civil servant in Salt Lake City can’t have a sister wife running around the house looking after the babies. Then you have other “good Americans” set up an operation in your park buying and selling little girls. But they have rights! You have to call them by the right pronouns! If you don’t it’s a hate crime. Well, apparently there’s one little girl who plays by Porter Rockwell’s rules. And she sends them all to heaven. I don’t have any idea of her connections, but I know she’s a Danite, and I would suggest that you leave a bullet on Old Port’s grave on your way out of town. As for me? Drug deal gone wrong. Case closed!”
Friday, April 7, 2023
A Sample of Karly
The bar wasn’t a trend setter, in fact it was standard, Utah. In Utah liquor stores were State Liquor Stores, ran like a pharmacy and the customers treated like recovering addicts on methadone. Utah bars were not far behind. But it was a bar, and there were people in it.
Frank found his way to this bar more often than not. He led an uneventful life with an uneventful SSI check to pay the rent, and the bar tab. The only excitement in his life was the little girl he and four friends picked up in a local park. She’d been coming around over the past few weeks. No idea of what was really going on there, but a saucy curiosity. Then one night she was convinced to smoke something she’d only heard about and woke up on a bed in the back of an RV with a line of new friends just outside the bedroom door to make her acquaintance. By the time she landed on her front lawn she was wiser.
When the police didn’t come around Frank thanked his lucky stars. He didn’t have remorse, but he did have fear. He was glad the girl didn’t die, not because he cared, but because that would have involved the police. It had become obvious that the girl had survived and chose to hide her shame. By the time it was his turn that night she was in shock. So much so that when her legs were poked with a knife she didn’t flinch. They didn’t even put her in the cab of the pickup, opting instead to lay her in the bed of the truck, and discarding her like a sack of grain on her mother’s yard. She lived. Frank had even seen her recently at the peach parade. She stared right through him, as if he wasn’t even there! Stupid, unblinking eyes. She should have been happy with that night. A girl like that would never find a man. Did she recognize him? Probably not. When he was on top of her, she didn’t even move.
Frank didn’t have a girlfriend. He was at a bar, which in any place else would give a chance of a meeting. Not here!
He wasn’t exactly a catch and Utah wasn’t exactly California. Another Saturday night and he ain’t got nobody. Ain’t got no money ‘cause he just got drunk. Time to call it a day.
His trailer which was nearby was cold and damp. Dirty dishes, dirty clothes, dirty life. When you run out of money in a bar, and there’s nothing to drink at home you feel like hell! A bath! Wash the pain away.
He drew hot water and slipped into the tub. It didn’t cure all but he did feel better. Leaning back in the tub he splashed water across his face. Better. Closing his eyes, he drifted off for a moment. The feeling of something in the room woke him.
Opening his eyes, he discovered a girl in a hoodie standing beside the bathtub.
“Wakey wakey?” she inquired.
Frank had been trying to to soak off the effects of the bar, but it had not restored his coordination yet, and the few drinks that were still in his stomach when he walked home from the bar were now working their way across his small intestines and having a good old time. His arms and legs would simply not let him sit up with any proficiency.
“How did you get in here?”
“Through the door,” she pointed. “This is a bad neighborhood. You should be more careful.”
She pulled a chair over from the vanity and sat in it beside the tub. Reaching over to the lavatory she retrieved a paper grocery bag and sat it on her lap.
“You don’t remember me, do you?”
Frank shook his head, “Should I?”
She pulled her hoodie from her head. Then pulling her jeans up, revealed a scar. “You’d think after you do something like this you would.”
Frank made a stronger effort to rise from the tub, but the girl effortlessly pushed him back into the water. Ah ah ah! We’re not done here yet.”
At that she pulled a small clock radio from the the bag, reached over to the vanity and plugged it in. All the hot water in the tub couldn’t sober Frank up any faster!
“W. .w. .wait! Look, I know you’re upset . . .”
“You bet I am.”
“Honey, you can’t just do this.”
“Sure I can . . . watch.” She now dangled the radio over the water, swinging it like a pendulum. Looking through the water at his groin she said, “Whoa! It actually got smaller. That’s ok. I’ll bet I can fire it up.”
A strange sense of peace came over him. “Please. I will turn myself in. I’ll confess and take my medicine. I’ll even turn in the guys I . . .”
She cut him off. “No worries. There’ll be only one left now. After tonight of course. Do you need a minute to pray?”
Frank was struck dumb. Karly slowly dipped the radio into the water. Frank began to spasm. She pulled the radio out. He sank beneath the water. Tilting her head she dipped it again. More jerking. She did this twice more until the breaker interrupted the ritual. Moonlight bathed the room as she removed the clock and made sure Frank was properly submerged.
“Safety first. Electrical items should never be so close to water in the bath. Dropping the clock into the water she said, “Water sure is dirty. Diarrhea?” And she walked out of Frank’s life forever.
Wednesday, April 5, 2023
Bud Light and the Brown Dirt Cowboys
Who can understand the reasoning of the board members of a corporation that owns a huge portion of all the beer in the United States? You know who I’m talking about, don’t act like you don’t. I hit Facebook jail this morning for putting a picture up of Janis Joplin reclining on a couch enjoying a half pint of Southern Comfort in a vain attempt to satirize the new Bud beer can with some guy (I think it was a guy) in a dress, trying to point out that Janis was twice the man (it) is!
Now this is double funny because Janis was bi! Yeah, you heard it right. Her private choice was “Any dab’ll do ya!” And we of the Austin constituency didn’t care. Look up that picture. I can’t run it here ‘cause Janis is copyrighted out the kazoo and I don’t have a spare hundred grand to toss around. Just Google Janis Joplin, Couch, Whiskey, and check out them legs. I’d hit it!
But, you must ask yourself, what makes a beer company cater to a demographic that traditionally doesn’t drink beer? I’d think that guys in a dress would lean more toward a Shirley Temple, but I’m just a Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin so what do I know?
Anyway, they done it. First things first. Let’s do a taste test. Bud Light as compared to Ozarka Water. Very little difference. You can down a six pack of either and still blow clean. Miller Lite is practically the same, but at least it hails from Texas, and they will not follow Budweiser’s lead because they don’t want the brewery burned down.
There’s not enough alcohol in there to sanitize a bee sting, and i know this to be true because I’m a drunk. I’m not an alcoholic because I don’t wanna go to all them damn meetings, but I know booze, believe me! You will never get a fetching lady to lean your way by filling her up with this, especially Texas ladies. You want a cowgirl to go happy you gotta bring out the Jim Beam. Now, where was I.
I don’t have the percentage of Transsexual beer drinkers but I am sure it ranks well below fifty percent. But . . . and that’s a big butt, Budweiser pull off a real dilly. A two for one. Catering to people who don’t use their product while alienating the ones who did!
The outrage was practically universal. Hey fellas, if you were drinking Bud, I can’t help you. Years ago I discovered that it gave me a hangover while I was drinking it! If I drink beer it’s Dos Equis or Corona. Yeah, yeah, yeah, they’re both Mexican beers, I’m from Texas, deal with it!
My interaction with Facebook was not the exception. I have lots of cell mates. But look at the CEO of Facebook. What beer do you think he’d drink? Ace of Spades? Before you call racism Google it! That’s a real beer!
Now for the political ramifications. Playing to sections of the population is not new. NASCAR, Monday Night Football, strawberry flavored vodka, just good business. But, selling beer to the trans community? That’s a little like selling footballs to Paraplegics, wouldn’t you think? A picture of Hitler in a synagogue! Now, don’t got me wrong. When Walt proposed Disneyland his family tried to put him in the crazy house. J.C. Penny had to invent what we know as the credit card to get out of the crazy house. History is strewn with crazy airplanes that actually flew like the Spruce Goose. Only time will tell. Ideas can crop up anywhere, any time. A market can be identified and expanded where no market has ever been. We have such a market as soon as the Texas Legislature sees fit to bless a small herb we all know and live. Judge not lest ye be judged. That having been said, I don’t think Jesus would have served Bud Light at the last supper. Cheers!
Bud Light and the Brown Dirt Cowboys
Who can understand the reasoning of the board members of a corporation that owns a huge portion of all the beer in the United States? You know who I’m talking about, don’t act like you don’t. I hit Facebook jail this morning for putting a picture up of Janis Joplin reclining on a couch enjoying a half pint of Southern Comfort in a vain attempt to satirize the new Bud beer can with some guy (I think it was a guy) in a dress, trying to point out that Janis was twice the man (it) is!
Now this is double funny because Janis was bi! Yeah, you heard it right. Her private choice was “Any dab’ll do ya!” And we of the Austin constituency didn’t care. Look up that picture. I can’t run it here ‘cause Janis is copyrighted out the kazoo and I don’t have a spare hundred grand to toss around. Just Google Janis Joplin, Couch, Whiskey, and check out them legs. I’d hit it!
But, you must ask yourself, what makes a beer company cater to a demographic that traditionally doesn’t drink beer? I’d think that guys in a dress would lean more toward a Shirley Temple, but I’m just a Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin so what do I know?
Anyway, they done it. First things first. Let’s do a taste test. Bud Light as compared to Ozarka Water. Very little difference. You can down a six pack of either and still blow clean. Miller Lite is practically the same, but at least it hails from Texas, and they will not follow Budweiser’s lead because they don’t want the brewery burned down.
There’s not enough alcohol in there to sanitize a bee sting, and i know this to be true because I’m a drunk. I’m not an alcoholic because I don’t wanna go to all them damn meetings, but I know booze, believe me! You will never get a fetching lady to lean your way by filling her up with this, especially Texas ladies. You want a cowgirl to go happy you gotta bring out the Jim Beam. Now, where was I.
I don’t have the percentage of Transsexual beer drinkers but I am sure it ranks well below fifty percent. But . . . and that’s a big butt, Budweiser pull off a real dilly. A two for one. Catering to people who don’t use their product while alienating the ones who did!
The outrage was practically universal. Hey fellas, if you were drinking Bud, I can’t help you. Years ago I discovered that it gave me a hangover while I was drinking it! If I drink beer it’s Dos Equis or Corona. Yeah, yeah, yeah, they’re both Mexican beers, I’m from Texas, deal with it!
My interaction with Facebook was not the exception. I have lots of cell mates. But look at the CEO of Facebook. What beer do you think he’d drink? Ace of Spades? Before you call racism Google it! That’s a real beer!
Now for the political ramifications. Playing to sections of the population is not new. NASCAR, Monday Night Football, strawberry flavored vodka, just good business. But, selling beer to the trans community? That’s a little like selling footballs to Paraplegics, wouldn’t you think? A picture of Hitler in a synagogue! Now, don’t got me wrong. When Walt proposed Disneyland his family tried to put him in the crazy house. J.C. Penny had to invent what we know as the credit card to get out of the crazy house. History is strewn with crazy airplanes that actually flew like the Spruce Goose. Only time will tell. Ideas can crop up anywhere, any time. A market can be identified and expanded where no market has ever been. We have such a market as soon as the Texas Legislature sees fit to bless a small herb we all know and live. See ad below. Judge not lest ye be judged. That having been said, I don’t think Jesus would have served Bud Light at the last supper. Cheers!

Be Sure Your Sins Will Find You Out
Romans 12:19
Beloved, never AVENGE yourselves, but leave it to the Wrath of God, for it is Written, “VENGEANCE is Mine, I will repay, says the Lord.”
As BELIEVERS in the Mighty God of Heaven…and FOLLOWERS of the King of Glory, Jesus…we have the distinct advantage of discerning GOOD over EVIL through the whispers of the Holy Spirit…Who resides within us. But lately…even His SHOUTS of warnings to those who have sided with the diabolical plots of darkness…are resonating God’s TRUTH within their hearts as a sign to ALL of us who BELIEVE in the Promises of our Heavenly Father…to “Let Go…and Let God”.
It’s very easy to fly off the handle and scream at the TV screen as we see what’s going on at the “Big Apple”. Sure, we can resort to name calling and wasting our time in focusing on the blatant schemes of those who vehemently despise…not only a former President…but every single one of his family members, his friends, associates…and even 70 plus MILLION folks who casted their votes for him. But that’s not what we are called to do…we are CALLED to pray for those who’ve hardened their hearts towards the Will of our Most Awesome God.
Fortunately…there are scores of red-blooded Americans that are hearing the warnings from the Spirit of God…they have been Spiritually AWAKENED to the reality…that something just ain’t right with what’s happening with the party they believed would IMMEDIATELY reverse EVERYTHING that the former President accomplished…you know…secure borders, energy independence, strong military, Space Force, record economy, peace in the Middle East, recognizing Jerusalem as the Capital of Israel by moving the Embassy there, the lowest unemployment in history…and did I mention we were respected ALL over the World…not because of this one man…but because we BELIEVED that our God was BLESSING our Country once again with His Favor…and this ruffled the feathers of those who’ve sided with darkness. But now even those blinded by the lust for power to change our Country into a Banana Republic…are WAKING-UP and saying, “Father FORGIVE me…I was blind…but now I can see”.
Pray for our enemies!!! Pray for their Souls…and that they will come to know our Lord and Savior, Jesus. Love them…as God has LOVED you. And remember…”Let Go…and Let God”.
Have a BLESSED Wednesday Y’all!!!
VQ
Tuesday, April 4, 2023
Golden Ring
Proverbs 4:23
Keep your HEART with all VIGILANCE, for from it flow the Springs of Life.
Have you ever wondered WHY people who were once MADLY in Love…suddenly…after years of working through a relationship of maintaining a home, trying your best to “Lead” by example for the family, working to make ends-meet from dawn to dusk…and let’s not forget the truck-load of responsibilities we’ve collected over the years with our children and grandkids football, soccer, baseball, school events, parent teacher conferences, fighting for the REMOTE for the Golf Channel…or…submitting to The Housewives of Babylon…with ALL that said…SUDDENLY we begin to SHOUT at one another even though we are only 6 feet apart.
So…why would ANYONE have to resort to SHOUTING when they can easily hear your slightest whisper from that distance? It’s because your HEARTS have drifted far away from each other and your Soul is desperately reaching out over the void trying to reconnect to the time when you both held each other close…both physically…and Spiritually as ONE.
Our Heavenly Father also yearns for the moment when you SHOUT out to Him…in that moment He is instantly beside you…calming the storm within you…overwhelming you with His abundant Spirit of HOPE, TRUTH, POWER…and LOVE. Within that moment…your SHOUTS turn back into whispers.
Have a BLESSED Tuesday Y’all!!!
I’ve got to go…Kim’s SHOUTING at me from the kitchen…relax Folks…Christians are permitted to throw down on a bit of humor now and again…but seriously…she’s shouting at me from the kitchen I’d better head that way…or, else.
VQ
Monday, April 3, 2023
Born To Save The Life of the Prophet of the Lamb
Gabe tossed a log onto the fire. “Gotta get more wood,” he said, and disappeared in the brush.
The sun set beyond the Wasatch Mountains. Ashley poked the fire and looked at the landscape. She was high up. Not like Reno. Keeping the fire lit was a trick. Suddenly there was a voice behind her. “Keep the little wood on bottom. That’ll warm up the big wood. Make it all burn.”
She turned to see a man. He was dressed in a long, dark coat, with a dark hat. His sky-blue eyes seemed to glow in the dark. He approached, and sat beside her, stirring the wood on the fire. The fire invigorated. Ashley was a bit taken aback by his forward manner, but that manner, in and by itself set her ill at ease. About this time Gabe came back.
“You took your time,” the stranger said.
“You ever look for tinder this high up?” Gabe returned.
The stranger lit a twig on the fire, and then transferred the flame to a cigar he held between his teeth. Holding the cigar out to Ashley, she shook her head. The stranger, and Gabe both laughed. “Where you taking her?” the stranger asked.
“East coast,” Gabe said. “Palmyra.”
“Joseph?” The stranger reached and lifted Ashley’s chin. “She from the seer?” He asked.
“Not by blood. But by spirit. Michelle’s adopted granddaughter. Blood of the woman who walks on stones.”
“Crazy, that one, “the stranger said.
“You just don’t like cats,” Gabe said.
“She’s anglo,” the stranger said.
“Look at the nose. She’s Semitic.”
He forcibly turned her head to look at her nose.
Ashley’s eyes darted from one man to the other. “Whoa! You guys are talking way over my head. What’s a seer?” she asked. She searched the faces for a sign, but there was none. “You’re scaring. me.”
“Why?” the stranger asked.
She pointed to his coat, “The gun,” she said. Hidden beneath his long coat was a revolver.
The stranger sat beside her. “You gotta believe. I did. Even when it don’t make no sense, you gotta believe. You had it rough?” He relit his cigar. “All I ever wanted was to be a farmer. My best friend, Joseph, he was the dreamer. He wrote a book. I never read it because I didn’t read back then, but he did. He read it to me. And all the time I was growing up he told me stories from the book. I worked my fields during the day and did work at night. I gave him my extra money to pay to publish the book. Then the wolf packs came. They killed my friend, but they didn’t kill me. I was born to save the life of the prophet of the lamb, but I was too late. Now I protect you. And I’ve been living my friend’s dream all these many years.”
“When was that?” She asked.
“1844.”
Ashley drew back. Her years at the Wellington had taught her about psychology. People claiming impossible things were normal for her. “1844? That makes you eligible for social security.”
The stranger laughed. He drew his gun. It was a big gun. Revolver. Pointing it up he pulled the hammer back. The four clicks resounded in the desert air. “This is my social security. And my age? Gotta do time. Pay for my sins.”
Ashley calmly accepted his words. More to not set off his psychosis than actually believing him. The stranger was from another time. She put him in the sixties. . His long black hair fell below his shoulders. Longer than hers, but, she didn’t understand the meaning of the hair. The stranger saw her looking at his hair.
“Joseph told me that as long as I never cut my hair or shaved my beard no blade or bullet will ever pierce my hide. He was right.”
“Magic hair?” Ashley asked.
He drew from his smoke, “No. Not magic. Faith. My hair means I believe. The faith protected me. Protected me because Joseph was a prophet of God. If he hadn’t been I’d have been killed right off. I lived my life, and now I am here. To protect another prophet.”
“Who?” Ashley asked.
Looking at Gabe, he asked, “She the best we can we got?”
“Woah woah woah, hold up, are y’all tryna sell me?” Ashley lived in a world of sex traffickers. Was this Gabe’s plan?
‘’Sharon says she’s the one,” Gabe said.
The stranger dropped his cigar into the fire. “Gotta work with what you got, I guess.” The stranger lifted Ashley’s chin. “Born to save the life of the Prophet of the Lamb.” He laughed out loud, and, with that he rose, turned, and disappeared into the brush.
“Who was that?” Ashley asked Gabe.
“Someday . . .”
“I know, I’ll understand.” The smell of the cigar drifted through the air.
It’s Just a Little Girl
John entered the park from the Main Street. There was a playground. Usual stuff. Slides, swings, no monkey bars. Monkey bars were a thing of the past. Those of the “Z” generation didn’t have the survival skills of the Baby Boomers. Consequently no insurance company would cover monkey bars or metal slides.
Beyond the playground were trees. The kind you find at the base of the Wasatch. No tall timber, but a good covering for hide and seek or adventurous lovers. The area was empty. John worked his way back to the foliage and ventured in. In a short while the forest seemed to close in behind him, hiding the playground from view. He could easily see how someone could secrete themselves from prying eyes.
The activity that he’d observed earlier was nowhere to be seen. Amazing! Wee hours of the morning, Saturday night, the locals were too holy for their own good.
The stillness bothered him. As if the business of the night had been completed and the causes of it had gone.
Then there was a sound. A rustling in the trees. John was on point, but not much. The last recorded crime here was one teen girl sticking another young girl in the the butt with a pen knife over a boy. Not exactly Austin!
John eased toward the sound. He began to detect gasping and a low cough. As he came through the brush he came upon a man laying in the ground, gurgling from the gash across his throat. The blood oozed from his throat with each successive heart beat and he was running short of beats.
John bent down to the man. 911 could not save him, and John didn’t want any empirical implications at this early stage. “Don’t know who you got cross with, partner, but they done for you.”
Just then he caught something in his peripheral vision. Now he pulled his gun as he turned to the sight. About ten feet away, among the trees was a small form. The person was wearing a dark hoodie that hid the eyes, but not the mouth. It extended to the ankles. In the right hand was a sword. From John’s days in the army he could tell it was a ceremonial saber similar to one a decorated soldier would get upon his retirement. Upon closer inspection he saw a long whiff of light brown hair extending to the shoulders. John was taken aback. A girl’s hair! A short girl.
Looking back at the now dead man on the ground and back John asked, “Did you do that?”
Slowly the head nodded. The nod exposed a bit more of the face of a young girl.
“Why?” John asked.
A small, female voice answered, “He touches girls.”
She made no move toward him, and he stood his ground. This was a killer. Was she the killer? This wasn’t a chance randevu. The hoodie, the sword, her very demeanor spoke of planning. The man came to the park to abuse what he thought was an angel, and had met a devil! With another quick glance back again he said, “A little drastic wouldn’t you say?”
In a little girl’s voice she asked, “What did you come into the desert to see, bounty hunter?” And before John could blink she turned in a swirl and disappeared back into the forest.
When he got back to his room Rick asked him what he’d found at the park. John poured a whiskey and said, “It’s not a serial killer. It’s a vigilante.”
“You saw him?”
“Her! Spoke to her! It’s not a man. It’s a girl. A little girl!”