Odd Prompts: Invisible No More

I stared at the house. I had grown up in that house, but it held no happy memories for me. No, I didn’t have an abusive childhood. Rather, it was simply a neglected childhood. I’d been fed, clothed, and sent to school, but that was it. The people who’d raised me had done so out of some sense of obligation to my parents, but that was it. They’d agreed to look after my needs – you couldn’t really say ‘took care’ of me – until I turned eighteen and was a legal adult. They’d told me I could stay in the house until I’d found a job and my own apartment, but it had been made clear that that had to happen quickly.

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Exploring the Wild

Wandering along the ridge top, Mikhail admired the view. The chain of mountains stretched east and west, and the setting sun sent long shadows streaming across the canyon below on the south side. To the north, broad plains stretched away to the horizon. He could see the rising crescent of what the landing crew was calling Moon #1. Mikhail shook his head in bemusement. The landing crew was devoid of poets or any other creatives. Moon #2 would rise about one Earth hour after Moon #1. He decided that one thing he would do tonight, before sleeping was come up with actual names for the moons. He knew the landing crew would take whatever they could get.

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Thanksgiving 2022

This time last year (well, the equivalent weekend, if not the date), we were having Thanksgiving dinner with one of my best friends and her family. We were only three days away from the moving truck arriving and taking all our worldly goods down to Texas. We spent the next three days frantically trying to finish up packing and figuring out what was going in the car, what was going in the truck, and what was going in the trash. It was a bit frenetic to say the least. And we were still packing when the moving truck arrived.

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Holiday Book Sale!

Looking for Christmas presents? I am offering signed paperback copies of all three books in my series, Academic Magic, for $10 each plus shipping! That’s signed copies of Academic Magic, Night Mage, and Magic Abroad for $30 plus shipping! Send an email to profornery at gmail dot com with “Books” in the subject line, if you are interested.

Also, starting Wednesday, November 23 at midnight PST and continuing until Wednesday, November 30 at midnight the ebook version of Night Mage will be available for $0.99! Academic Magic in ebook format is permanently available for $0.99 as well!

One Among Millions

Every year I post my father’s Veteran’s Day essay. Dad was proud of his country and his service to it. He also understood what the United States meant and means to the rest of the world. Dad died in 2013 and is buried in Washington Crossing National Cemetery, just a couple of miles from where George Washington crossed the Delaware on that fateful Christmas night. I think Dad would like that he’s that close to history. Miss you, Pops.

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Why No Red Wave? Or A Labor of Love

What happened? We were promised an almost unstoppable red wave in yesterday’s election. What we got was one or two upset races and it was business as usual for the rest. Fetterman – Fetterman! – won in Pennsylvania for God’s sake. The corrupt, criminal-loving, now cognitively impaired candidate won over a TV famous medical doc who actually had some good ideas. In Georgia, it looks like the corrupt, racist slum lord will win over the former football player, who yes, has some gaffe issues, but far less than Biden. In other races (check out Real Clear Politics for more results) what should have been clear Republican wins became nail biters and I don’t think it was all fraud.

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Demonization and Segregation

It’s a thing among hard-core political partisans to demonize and “other” (to use the language of the left… ostracize, unperson) their opponents and anyone who even hesitates to go along with their ideas. The left, with their capture of the major news outlets, is very good at demonizing, othering, ostracizing, unpersoning, and segregating all those with whom they disagree, dislike, and otherwise want/need to silence and do away with.

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The Game’s Afoot

Kyra stared at Wainwright. He was standing just inside the front door, gazing around the pub, and rubbing his hands together in a weirdly gleeful way. She totally did not trust him and vowed to herself that she was going to keep an eye on him and make certain he didn’t sneak anything past her. Several of her regular customers had stopped by the bar to tell her that Miller Wainwright was not to be trusted at all.

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Creating Monsters

A generational temper tantrum is occurring. There’s been a lot in the news lately (well, at least on the sites that I read. I don’t know if the mainstream media has said much) about childish adults throwing soup on Van Gogh’s sunflowers and gluing themselves to the wall of the museum, or gluing themselves to a street in Paris, or gluing themselves to other paintings, and other stupid, senseless, and destructive gestures with far less cool and panache than the brothers of Delta House. But they’re out there, throwing temper tantrums.

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