Holiday
361 Memoirs of Eddie H. Christ, Jesus' Little Brother—"Come in Peace"
So let’s see. The Christmas star was so mysterious that no one would've guessed the real truth. There was that supernova theory, for which we can be thankful that we have stuff like Cesium in us—and iron doesn’t hurt none either. And then there are all the comet theories; there’s the hypothetical conjunctional conglomeration of three planets in the constellation Pisces.
By Gerard DiLeoabout a year ago in Fiction
359 Christmas Eve and the Suspension of Disbelief
"Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me: for of such is the kingdom of heaven." Matthew 19:14 Is Christmas only for children? If you think so, you have lost some important hard-wiring in your brain. You're less human.
By Gerard DiLeoabout a year ago in Fiction
Farewell To an Interesting Year
”it was indeed an interesting year my good man.” Turning his cataract ridden eyes to his drinking companion, the old man sighed. “That it was my friend. That it was indeed.” Picking up his tumbler of Ancient Age he took a sip of the whiskey and looked around the bar. There were a fair number of patrons in attendance despite it being New Years Eve. A group of young people sat at a nearby table talking about sports, politics, sex, and work between bouts of searching the internet for drivel on their cell phones. Probably checking the latest Tik Tok challenges or insulting someone on Facebook, he thought drily. A group of men about mid forties pounded on the bar as they watched a football game on the huge overhead screen.
By Andrew C McDonaldabout a year ago in Fiction
357 Memoirs of Eddie H. Christ, Jesus' Little Brother: Road Trip
The Star of the Magi had provoked astronomical speculation for centuries—well, among Christian astronomers. Some have theorized that it was a nearby supernova. Jesus explained that it wasn’t, because the resulting gamma ray burst—whatever that was—would have wiped out the world. So, probably not.
By Gerard DiLeoabout a year ago in Fiction
356 Memoirs of Eddie H. Christ, Jesus' Little Brother: Star of the Show
The Star of Bethlehem—explosion or implosion? Hell, a supernova gives you both. After it blows, you’ve got a dead star when the dust settles. But then Jesus said that while this was happening, all kinds of fusion reactions happened between the hydrogen and helium. Denser atoms forged as the star collapsed, everything smushing together, so that when the explosion happened, all this denser debris cast off, and all the new heavier elements were strewn throughout the universe.
By Gerard DiLeoabout a year ago in Fiction
Inflation Stole Christmas
The snow fell relentlessly that Christmas Eve, each flake a delicate whisper against the frozen air, drifting through the streets like the last vestiges of a season we all once knew. From my window, the city below seemed swallowed by its own stillness—a pristine world untouched by the relentless march of time. Yet, beneath the serene white blanket, a deeper truth pulsed: the silence was not peace; it was a hollow echo of a year spent in quiet suffering.
By Honsby Orjiabout a year ago in Fiction
The Crimson Warrior: Under the Red Maple Moon. AI-Generated.
The Blood-soaked Warrior: Below the Red Maple Moon Beneath the awning of blood-soaked maple leaves, the moon abashed low and full, casting an awesome scarlet afterglow over the forest. The air was abundant with the whispers of wind animate through the leaves, as admitting attributes itself was aside secrets of the past. In the affection of the backwoods stood a abandoned warrior, his aphotic contour affected adjoin the aglow red moon. He was accepted abandoned as Kaito, the Blood-soaked Warrior—a name aside with according genitalia awe and fear.
By Say the truth about a year ago in Fiction
December's Child Part I:
It was the end of the year. Milea felt excited. Together with her mother, she would once again celebrate Christmas with Mr. Tollanski. It had become a tradition now. For the last five years, they had always shared Christmas dinners.
By Calvin Londonabout a year ago in Fiction
Delaware’s Dead. Content Warning.
Placemats featured the holly and Christmas berries. Orange zest wafted through the air. It underscored the scent of honey baked ham and turkey. A ziti also baked for Kalila. She had perished in a shooting in Wilmington, Delaware as an unintended bystander. Now, she sat at her place at the table. Her cousin, a fentanyl dealer, had been gunned down months after her. He dined on ziti as well.
By Skyler Saundersabout a year ago in Fiction
