The wisdom of King Solomon.

Two women came before King Solomon. The first woman said to him: "My Lord, this woman and I live in the same house. I gave birth to a child and a few days later, she gave birth too. No one else lives with us, only the two of us were there. This woman's son died during the night, and she arose and took my son from my arms while I slept, leaving her dead son in his place. When I awoke, I believed my son was dead, but when I observed him later on I realised he was not the one to whom I had given birth."

The second woman responded: "It is not so! It is my son who lives and yours who died!"

The first woman replied: "It is not so! Your son is the dead one and my son lives!

King Solomon watched them argue for a little while, and then spoke to the second woman.

"So, you claim that your son is the live one and hers the dead one."

She agreed. He then spoke to the first woman.

"So, you claim that her son is the dead one and yours the live one."

She, too, agreed.

King Solomon then spoke again: "Bring me a sword!"

He gave the sword to the second woman and said to her: "You may cut the child into two. However it will be her choice which half to take."

The two women saw that he had ensured they would each recieve an equal portion of baby. They left and spread the word of his decision. All of Israel heard of his wise judgement and held him in great awe.

She is curled up and.

She is curled up and it can't possibly be comfortable. Her body pressed against the seat and her eyes closed. I am a little ashamed because I find her so beautiful, just in this instant, relaxed and asleep. All of a sudden she is awake, running to the front of the bus, all flustered apologies and flushed skin. I wonder what her smile looks like.

Water!

Today I learned that the drinking fountain on my level at work would be better titled "face hose".

It was fun though.

I am absent minded.

I keep forgetting that I am 22. I just saw my age written on something and I was sort of disconcerted by it. I don't necessarily feel 21 or 20 or any particular age, I just feel a bit funny about my duration being measured like that.

Also I am trying to improve my consumption habits so right now I have organic chocolate, Scarborough Fair brand 70% cocoa. Every time I eat some I get the Simon and Garfunkel song stuck in my head, which I enjoy.

I also came across this singer, I can't quite figure out how? I did a google search and only 6 english-speaking websites even mention her. I believe she is from Hungary.

Péterfy Bori and Love Band - Vámpír

Don't worry, I don't have the dedication or free time to turn this into an obscure I-am-so-indie music blog. Then again maybe this is how it all starts.

Peace!

A little context.

The previous post is not quite the beginning. You've seen part of the second act, and I need to write the first act and the final act. The whole thing will end up as a short story after the fashion of Mr H.P. Lovecraft, a fine fellow.

Through the rain and darkness.

The storm was so heavy last night. I couldn't sleep. I got a glass of water and gazed out the window as the wind and rain beat against it. That was when I saw it.

At the edge of the field, a rain-soaked figure stood silently. A flash of lightning cast it into eerie relief for an instant. For a moment I thought it was a large, emaciated dog, standing on its hind legs and staring mutely towards the house, its shaggy fur hanging wetly. But then I realised the gaunt figure couldn't be a dog at all.

Despite an odd feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach, I went outside to see if they were alright, being out in elements on a bitter night like that. By the time I opened the door, the figure was gone. The next morning, with the storm clear, I walked up to the edge of the field to investigate and found muddy footprints. The rain had beaten at them and I was strangely unable to tell if they were left by a human or an animal.

Sleep

I need more sleep.

A Strange Request

The manager of the advertising company stood before her employeees.

"Alright everyone, we have a strange request.

Either it was a typo by our client, or else we're going to have to be more creative and hard-working than ever before. I choose to believe it was not a typo.

No one has ever done anything like this."

Several weeks later, the advertisements were displayed on the world's first Tele-Bison. The applause was thunderous. The Tele-Bison was startled, and rushed into the night, never to be seen or heard from again.

Unimpressed

I was so hopeful when I found you. You were just one of a pile and I arbitrarily picked you out, with two other apples, and put you in those wasteful plastic bags they have on a roll next to the fruit. Last time I got apples from that store it had renewed my faith in store-bought apples. But you, oh, you.

I washed you carefully, dried you and polished you until you were just a little shiny. Then I bit into you. You were juicy, I will give you that. It wasn't really juice though, was it? It tasted like water. You were bland, apple. You were unappealing.

Forget you, apple.