Patriarch

 

Peter replied, ‘From foreigners.’ <br/></dt><dd class=

“If your journey is of God then my blessing will be unnecessary,” the Patriarch explained to his son. “And if it is not of God, then my blessing will be useless.”

“But Father, I cannot go without your benediction.  That is the law.”

“Son, if I said that I thought the venture was foolhardy and unlikely to prosper – what would you have said?”

“I would have replied, that you could not possibly know and that I would prove your opinion wrong, and then I would ask for the required blessing.”

“And if I then said the formal words, but without a godly intent, or my heartfelt belief in your cause – what would you have done?” the old man asked.

“I would have knelt to receive my blessing, and then ran off to join my friends at the pier,” the son replied.

“Then, as I have said, my blessing would be truly useless.  Therefore, I shall not sully the sacred words by thus uttering them.”

The young man stared at his father in disbelief, and then shouted, “I hate you,” and ran off into the fields to feel sorry for his misfortune of having such a hateful father.

While the young man moped, his friends set sail to find their fortunes.  Later that day the tiny ship was caught up in a freak storm and was lost with all on board.

When word of the tragedy reached the village, the Patriarch turned his face heavenwards and said, “Thanks for the heads up.”

 

Padre

 

Tale Weaver – #284 – Blessing

 

Image: FreeBibleImages

 

 

 

The Dragon Hunter Part 4

Dragon, Zodiac, Chinese, Culture, East, China, Oriental

Pixabay

As Wilfred entered the flickering glow, he discovered that the passage was lined with an assortment of high quality, state of the art armour.  There was no coherent pattern as far as he could detect.  There seemed to be Nordlanic, Ralulee, and Kingdom styles, yet each bore the rearing dragon sigel of Hanon.  As he slowly passed these, there was an  occasional roar, as if a great burst of breath was being released.  These bursts echoed through the cavern.  Each of them was accompanied by a momentary increase in the brightness of the passage.  At the last of these, he noted a bunk wedged in among the racks of armour and weapons.  On the bunk rested the other sentry, a blindfold of sorts shielding his eyes from the periodic flashes of scarlet light, as he slumbered.

Wilfred wasted no time, but quickly repeated the procedure whereby he had captured the other guard.  The man thus incapacitated, Wilfred rounded a bend in the tunnel towards the sound of the incessant metallic pounding.

What he discovered was a group of Dwarves working a huge set of bellows and working anvils on which they were affixing dragon crests to armour, or replicating weapons in the styles of those Wilfred had seen in racks.

“Who are you, Boy?” one burly Dwarf snapped, “and where are the guards?”

“Guards?” Wilfred repeated.  It was only then that he noticed that the Dwarves were shackled.  “I – I um – tied them up.”

“Well then what are you wait’n for?” the lead Dwarf challenged.  “Come and unlock us.”

“But, I don’t have a key,” Wilfred replied.  “Why don’t you just use your tools to break out?”

“Why don’t you just use your tools?” the Dwarf mocked.  “Why didn’t we think a-that? Becuz the chains is bleed’n magic ain’t they?” the Dwarf spat.  “Why don’t you go and fetch the bloody key?” the Dwarf said coldly.

Wilfred hurried back to the bunk, and there on a hook was a key with mysterious runes on it.  He went back to the Dwarves, and held it up.

“Yes -yes.  That’s it,” the lead Dwarf said, “So get on with it.”

“First, tell me where the dragon is,” Wilfred insisted.

“There ain’t no bleed’n dragon, you dunce,” the Dwarf responded.  “It’s all a ruze. A ploy.  Them Hannies made up the bloom’n dragon caper so they could steal the armour and weapons to equip their army.  This place ain’t got no iron to speak of, and no good smitties that’s for certain. So they lure heroes ‘ere and ambush ’em.  That’s how they got me and the lads as well.  But they kept us alive to do their dirty work.  The rest they strip, then toss in the furnace – just long enough to char them – mind.  Then they take the bodies back to the border to build up their dragon yarn.  Now, about the bloom’n key.”

“I will let you go, but I need you to do something for me first,” Wilfred said.

“And what might that be?” the lead Dwarf asked with a huff.

“I want you to make me a dragon’s head.”

 

Padre

 

Spectre From Above

Snowy Owl, Owl, Bird, Animal, Animal World, White

Pixabay

Large eyes stare into the night

In search of seeds of grain

Ears perk at every sound

Till all is still again

Then the mouse – does slowly creep

From its nesting lair

A fatal move – for in a flash of white

The spectre strikes as if from nowhere

 

Padre

Rewriting History

CCC #88

It had long been believed that the extinction of the dinosaurs had been the direct result of a meteor strike in the Caribbean.  Though no one at NASA or NOAA had ever acknowledged the fact, a deep ocean scan in the 1960s had discovered that rather than a large meteor, the object that struck was in fact a large spacecraft which hit at a much lower velocity that originally believed.  This craft had been examined by a joint American and French team with recovery operations led by Jacque Cousteau.  Much had been learned, but the cause of the crash had never been adequately explained until an amateur photographer in the English county of Norfolk happened onto a huge nut, of an unidentified alloy, along the coastline.  The mystery had been solved.  Official explanations for her discovery, however, have been covered up under the Official Secrets Act, and buried within a series of photo-prompted sketches on a popular blogging site.

 

 

CCC #88

 

Padre

No Adventures Thus Required

 

closed red wooden door

Photo by Aachal on Unsplash

Sensible folk – stay at home

For dangers lay in the world abroad

Adventuring types oft – to their own homes bring

Unwanted visitors and maladies odd

We biggers should these truths have learned

From the wise halflings of the Shire

Maybe if we had so done

None of the current measures

Would we now require

 

Padre

 

 

 

 

Where Are The Flowers?

Photo by Kristina Paukshtite on Pexels.com

Where has that rose-scent – heady gone?

Has it dried and blown away?

Leaving just the husks left behind –

Like from Miss Havisham’s wedding day?

Or have they been picked with bright intent –

And now with tears – gone far away?

Like the blooms of which Pete Seeger sang

On tombstones now displayed

Where has that rose-scent – heady gone?

May they fresh in your vase be found –

Each day with enduring and pure emotion

And may you with your loved one dwell

Roses a symbol of an undying devotion

 

 

 

Padre

 

Photo Challenge #323

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fey Words

CC0 1.0 Universal (CC0 1.0)

 

Spell

Uttered
Breath Quiet
Almost unheard
A call for curses?
A summoning of grace?
What mystic rites were released
In those few whispered syllables?
Will they change the course of destiny –

For those of us bound here upon the Earth?

Tell me of the fey words you said
Shall I be now overjoyed
Or should I wait in dread?
What was your intent?
In what you spoke
Breath quiet
Silent

Said

 

Padre

SynonymsOnly :“BLESSED & HEX”