You’re working outside, on a beautiful day, but as you work your attention is distracted.

At first you hear the engine noise with the distinctive modulation created by a revolving prop, the longer you hear it, the more you realize that it is not an ordinary small plane. The sounds on your audio horizon are just wrong and they do not change at a rate you would expect for the Doppler Effect for approaching or retreating sources.

Your eyes rise to the sky to find the audible intruder, searching back and forth while your ears serve as a pair of direction finders, balancing the volume between them.

Then you see it, a contraption of wheels, sticks, part of a parachute, with a seat followed by an engine block. The operator sits in the middle of the contraption. You realize someone had a sense of humor.

The parachute cloth of the wing bore the name and picture from a popular Arabian themed brand of cigarettes.  No, not the full flavor version, this is an ultra-light.

In times past, when the sun seemed to grow cold and civilizations abated,
it fell to just a few to keep the flickering ember that was knowledge from fading.

(completed in An Historic Annulment, Annulled! By PattieBFine)

Fifty years, fifty years ago I had proposed to her and next month we would repeat our vows in the same church in which we had said “I do”, as the our minister lead us to union. I wanted to repeat all the steps that had lead to a life time with my soul mate and lover. Age brings wisdom but at other times it is not a blessing and, neither she nor I could hike Max Patch Bald, the North Carolina Mountain on which I had proposed, but I had an idea on how I could do it all over again.

I chose to have some fun with just a bit of Mis-characterization. Now my spell check hates me.

New Moon
 

She sat at the bar crying, she had not been there for long, I asked her … what is wrong?
She told me that tonight was her time of the moon, not to worry she would leave soon.
 

A Summer Flight of Fancy

She cared not how I dressed, how long my hair was, nor what I wore. She drew a line at heels, verboten, however trainers or deck shoes were ok. Dressing up was fine but slacks and shorts were more practical for our dates.

Two free spirits of the late 60s and early 70s. They met at
Caffe Lena in Saratoga Springs after a Three Dog night concert, and
recognized in each other the lost part of their own soul. That night they
drove out Highway 29 to Lake Desolation Road and headed uphill. On the
moonlight shore of the lake, the cooling air misting with tomorrow's fog,

What’s that Joe?

I said they’ve spotted him.

Are you sure that’s the right person? Looks like a little girl.

Temporal Address withheld under restrictions of the temporal security code of 2025.

Daddy! There's a monster under my bed!