Thomas’ Computer: a short story loosely based on real events
Chapter 7:"decisions"

Like an eerie lost ghost looking for a soul to torment, the wind blew against the cowboy’s gently thinning hair. A shock ran up the cowboy’s spine and as raised dots covered his tan and aged skin he looked 10 years older than he actually was. The moon spread out its cold chilly fingers on the earth trying to catch any exposed flesh. The storm had left several trees missing it branches and several homes which in turn found them coming through there ceilings. Before, the clouds had acted as a warm blanket over the earth trapping in the warmth and not letting it escape out to space as it so desperately wanted to do. Now that the clouds have gone the once captive heat was free to go and with it left all comfort. The cowboy was sitting rather uncomfortably behind an emergency vehicle with is shirt front ripped open exposing his white chest to the elements while the new paramedic was taking his pulse. The cowboy was amazed at how the stars felt so close to him at this point, like he could reach up and touch them with his finger, if gentle enough he might even pull one down and keep it like a boy would do to a captured frog or bug. “Breath,” harshly asked the older, rough looking medical technician.

They thought I had a heart attack just then, he said to himself. Maybe I had. I mean I hope I did, if didn’t then what happened to me? For the last hour the cowboy had been arguing with himself, wondering if this was all a figment of his imagination or was he really hearing people in his head and talking to men in spaceships.

“Charlie!” exclaimed the Cowboy loudly. The M.T.’s, believing this to be the sign of another heart attack, held him down as he tried to get up. He had forgotten that he left Charlie in the outskirts of town thinking he would only be in town for an hour and it had all ready been 4.

“He’s my horse you idiot,” and with much grunting and cursing the cowboy rose to his feet. He must have been unsteady for the techs swiftly grabbed each arm and tried to lead the stubborn old man to his seat. Not knowing if he should go back for his horse, who was his best friend. As his mind was trying to urge his body to go back for Charlie, he felt an urgent need to go back to the house he delivered that package to. He was torn between the two. For some reason he had it in his mind that he would never see his dear old friend ever again.

“Look can you do me a favor? There is a horse outside of town and by the looks of you he won’t like you a’bit but can you fetch ‘em for me?” as the confused techs watched their patient run down the street they heard “his name is Charlie damn it and make sure you get it right.”

As the strange cowboy vanished behind a set of homes the older MT said to the younger, “well if that didn’t happen as often as it does; I would’ve thought that was very weird.” As the stricken green MT climbed back into the vehicle a faint echoing howl swept across the street giving the town a horror movie feel that he did not like at all.

“That sounds really close you know? How far do you think?” Mumbled the newbie

“Who cares? I’m calling it a night.” He didn't liked this kid anyway.

The Greatest Trick

I am currently studying for a youth rally that I am afraid will fail for some unforeseen reason. There is no proof or reason but I somehow feel that this will not go by smoothly. I’m studying the cross of Christ and its impact on people in their daily lives. Josh Tucker is doing the other lesson and I have complete faith that he will do his part with quality and purpose. I look at the life that Jesus led and all of the sacrifices that he made while he was still on earth and I shudder to think that I would last as long as Jesus did. Three years is a miracle that I could never achieve or duplicate. Sometimes I wonder what it is I am doing here on earth, trying to be a minster in world that is clearly not caring how and where it is going. I am sitting here listening to a gaggle of boys pretending to talk like men, or at least what they think men talk like. I cannot help but feel sorry for them and their obvious blinding of the world’s control over their “free choices”. I want to scream at the top of my lungs, “THIS IS NOT REALITY!” I know they would not listen, instead they will retreat deeper into their subconscious routines and belief structures that have trained them from birth to accept this as reality. However, in their speech I still hear doubt and searching for what “real”, like an infant trying out new words and seeking correctness from its parents. I pray that God gives us the courage to help people see what reality is and what captivity does. May the lost see the light and may we be bright enough to show them.