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Sol's Random Stories

Random stories and images.

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- January 07, 2021

Vacation, great idea. What's the point? Why did I come here? Alone. What is time now, since they said I have months to live?

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Copyright 2021 All Rights Reserved. Solomon M Matsas

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: Santa Monica, California, United States; All rights reserved. ©2024.Solomon M. Matsas. This blog is about stories and images. Stories are my own, images are random. All for fun, hobby.

Sol's Random Stories

Random stories and images.

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Bottom Line

- November 16, 2024

Maybe I was twenty-five or so, discouraged, unemployment checks nearly run out. Job hunting all morning, getting nowhere but tired. Disappearing sounded good. It was a narrow, dark tavern on 7th Street, downtown. Two o'clock in the afternoon, working on my second boilermaker, so the rest of the day was certainly blown. Sitting next to some guy named George, and he was laying it all out for me. The kind of deep and dopey drivel that comes with an alcohol haze. "You see, you got your humans. And, you got your hoomans. Humans are the savers, the hoomans are the destroyers. Now, humans and hoomans, they're not the same, you know, not at all. Hoomans, they eat their own. They trust no one, not even each other. They hate the good things, and they'll kill anything for any reason or no reason. They'll take everything you have, that's the hoomans. So us humans have to get rid of every single hooman on God's good earth. Or, we don't have a prayer of a chance, r...

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Chayim was a contented boy growing up in a small village in the mountains of northern Greece. He had a gentle personality, and especially loved all things alive, which was also the literal meaning of his Sephardic name. Most at home in nature, he heard and saw the active rhythm of life all around him. One morning, Chayim's father, a stern but good man, returned from a nearby village with a newborn lamb. Turning the frightened creature over to his eight-year old son, Chayim was now responsible for her care. He couldn't have been happier, assuring his father he was trustworthy. The days passed quickly, and the perky lamb- Chayim's constant companion- grew quickly to double her born size. Chayim never had such a fun and lively playmate. After many months of the year had passed, Chayim's father came out to their barn where the boy was bathing his lamb. The gruff father smiled and nodded. "You've done a good job. Passover is here in two days." Chayim was i...

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Well known by nearly everyone in the river valley, Elie Moon was very active, seeing many folks per day. Elie was a fine healer, and part-time forest fairy, often found among the lush folds of flora and secret critter spaces, where smallness is a desirable attribute, and harmony of nature, the daylong song. For decades friends, neighbors, even strangers came to Elie Moon looking for relief. She healed with her kind words, rare herbs, and her hugs, long, medicinal hugs when the healing powers are re-absorbed. But then, a scourge of pain began to overshadow Elie's typical joy. Too many toddlers hoisted to her shoulders over the years. All the valley's doctors argued over her worsening state. They debated the best course, but Elie distrusted their certainty. She realized her own healing must be whole, self-generated- doctors only know what they know, or guess. But, Elie Moon needed something she'd not named or yet identified. Her own herbs had helped, but the pain persist...

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Does lake dream of mountain? Does forest dream of rolling fields? Does desert dream of cool waves? Do caves underground dream suns? Everywhere dreams a new reality? Could night dream of you and me?

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Be glad for unconscious, random brain works. Imagine if you dreamed only about elevators, Persian rugs, roasted turkey, and fences. Imagine how old it gets, every night, one or more of only these. Celebrate mind's randomness.

Ritual

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R emotely isolated between two tall mountains, Arial was a village that no one visited. There was another reason, a dark cloud so old that even the town's elders couldn't know for certain how it all began: everyone feared the moonlight. It had always been so in Arial. There was a rumor of a flood that swept thru the region in a horrific wave of destruction, wiping out nearly all in one horrible day. Some surviving witnesses recalled how before that catastrophe, a bizarre moon appeared, drifting closer. Then the moonlight somehow turned into raging volumes of water, floods bringing massive devastation. The moon had warned, but death came too quickly. The elders passed down these vague, ominous stories, and the whole town got scared about the evening- no one trusted the moon, no one went out after dark. The belief was irrational, pervasive, and intractable. Fear- including mass fear- needs no truth to thrive; only practice, repetition, tradition. Fear quickly becomes an ins...

Sol's Blogs

Sol's Random Stories Stories from random images. solsrandomstories.blogspot.com Sol's Dream Galleries Free association, image, dream stories in real time. solsdreamgalleries.blogspot.com Sol's Inner Vault Personal thoughts on faith, religion, philosophy, and life. solsinnervault.blogspot.com Sol's Media Debunk Examining biases and fallacies. solsmediadebunk.blogspot.com

Remains

- March 13, 2021

Sometimes, what remains are shards of feeling: you're sad, you see your frown without a mirror, someone familiar cries nearby. Everyone in your dream is you.

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