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At the prodding of my friends I am  writing this story.  My name is Mildred Honor. I am a former  elementary school Music Teacher from Des Moines, Iowa.

I have  always supplemented my income by teaching piano lessons... Something  I have done for over 30 years. During those years, I found that children have many levels of musical ability, and even though I have never had the prodigy, I have taught some very talented students. However, I have also had my share of what I call 'Musically Challenged'  Pupils.

One such Pupil being Robby. Robby was 11 years old when his Mother (a Single Mom) dropped him off for his first Piano Lesson.

I prefer that Students (especially Boys) begin at an earlier age, which I explained to Robby. But Robby said that it had always been his Mother's Dream to hear him play the Piano, so I took him as a Student.

At the end of  each weekly Lesson he would always say 'My Mom's going to hear me Play someday.' But to me, it seemed hopeless, he just did not have any Inborn Ability. I only knew his Mother from a distance as she dropped Robby off or waited in her aged Car to pick him up. She always waved and smiled, but never dropped  in.

Then one day Robby stopped coming for his Lessons.  I thought about calling him, but Assumed that because of his lack of Ability he had decided to pursue something else. I was also glad that he had stopped coming. He was a Bad Advertisement for my Teaching!

Several Weeks later I mailed a flyer recital to the  Students' homes. To my surprise, Robby (who had received a flyer)  asked if he could be in the Recital. I told him that the Recital was for current Pupils and that because he had dropped out, he really did not Qualify.

He told me that his Mother had been Sick and Unable to take him to his piano lessons, but that he had been practicing.  'Please Miss Honor, I've just got to Play,' he insisted. I don't know what led me to allow him to play in the  Recital - perhaps it was his insistence or maybe something inside of me saying that it would be all right.

The night of the Recital came and the high school gymnasium was packed with Parents, Relatives and Friends. I put Robby last in the Program, just before I was to come up and thank all the Students and Play a finishing  piece. I thought that any damage he might do would come at the end of the Program and I could always salvage his poor performance  through my 'Curtain Closer'.

Well, the Recital went off without a Hitch, the Students had been Practicing and it Showed. Then Robby came up on the stage. His Clothes were Wrinkled and his Hair looked as though he had run an egg beater through it. 'Why wasn't he dressed up like the other Students?' I thought. 'Why didn't his Mother at least make him Comb his Hair for this Special Night?'

Robby pulled out the Piano bench, and I was Surprised when he announced that he had chosen to play Mozart's Concerto No.21 in C Major.  I was not prepared for what I heard next. His fingers were light on the keys, they even danced nimbly on the Ivories. He went from Pianissimo to Fortissimo, from Allegro to Virtuoso; his Suspended Chords that Mozart demands were  Magnificent!  Never had I heard Mozart played so well by anyone his age.

After six and a half minutes, he ended in a Grand Crescendo, and everyone was on their feet in Wild Applause!!!  Overcome and in Tears, I ran up on stage and put my arms around Robby in Joy.

'I have never heard you Play like that Robby,  how did you do it?'  Through the Microphone Robby explained: 'Well, Miss Honor, Remember I told you that my Mom was sick?   Well, she actually had Cancer and Passed Away this Morning. And well... she was Born Deaf, so tonight was the first time she had ever heard me Play, and I wanted to make it Special.'

There wasn't a Dry Eye in the house that  evening.  As People from Social Services led Robby from the stage to be placed in to Foster Care, I noticed that even their Eyes were red and Puffy.  I thought to myself then how much Richer my Life had been for taking Robby as my Pupil.

No, I have never had a Prodigy, but that night I became a Prodigy...  of Robby. He was the Teacher and I was the Pupil, for he had taught me the meaning of Perseverance and Love and Believing in Yourself, and may be even taking a chance on someone and you didn't know why.

Robby was Killed years later in the Senseless  Bombing of the Alfred P. Murray Federal Building in Oklahoma City  in April, 1995.

A Footnote to the story. If you are thinking  about Forwarding this Message, you are probably wondering which People on your address list aren't the 'appropriate' Ones to receive this type of Message. The Person who sent this to you believes that we can all make a Difference!!!

Thank you for reading this... !! May God Bless You Today, Tomorrow and Always.

If God didn't have a Purpose for us, we  wouldn't be here!

Live Simply.
Love Generously.
Care  Deeply.
Speak Kindly.

God bless You!

Have a cheerful day

Once upon a time, there was a beast named Fray.

He was an ugly beast with vicious claws and teeth!

He lived in a forest alone and never went too close to the village for he was scared of it.

But one day, he met a lost girl.

She cried and cried and cried calling out for help.

Fray was hiding behind a large tree and the lost girl couldn't see him.

"She's lost..."

The beast whispered to himself.

The lost girl looked around frantically as if she was hearing a beast's voice.

"Hello?" She spoke softly. "Is someone there?"

Fray walked out from behind the tree and said, "Don't be afraid. I can help you."

The lost girl suddenly stopped crying as for she was surprised to see a beast in front of her.

"Let me help you." Fray extended his paw to her.

"Get away from me!" The lost girl screamed and ran away.

Fray was sad and angry as he couldn't help the lost girl.

"If I was human, I could've helped her!" The beast's anger roared throughout the forest.

"My, my, my. How I hear a sad little man wanting to become human."

"Who's there?" The beast growled.

"Go deeper into the forest and you will find a potion that'll turn you into human. But be warned, once you take it, there is a heavy price to pay."

And deeper into the forest did Fray go.

He found a potion, just like the mysterious person said there would.

Fray took a gulp of this potion and magically he turned into human.

"Thank you! Thank you!" Fray's clear, human voice echoed throughout the forest.

There was no word from the mysterious person. Only the sound of the tree's rustle.

"I need to find the lost girl again. I can help her!" He told himself.

Fray started running towards where he last seen the girl and luckily, he found her.

"Help me, help me!" The lost girl cried. "I'm lost! Do you know where my village is?"

"Yes, yes, I do. It's close by."

Fray offered his hand and the lost girl held his hand tightly.

And as soon as Fray held the lost girl's hand, the wind started to blow ferociously.

"There is a heavy price to pay. ---Hahahahaha!!--"

Fray didn't pay attention to the mysterious call as he was quickly falling in love with the lost girl.

3 years later, the daughter of Fray was born.

"Rose... That's her name." The lost girl, Emeny, breathed heavily, and said, "Don't you think it's wonderful?"

"That is a beautiful name," Fray agreed.

"There is a heavy price to pay. ---Hahahahaha!!--"

Fray shook his head, getting the weird voices out inside of him. He paid no attention to the threat until...

The baby Rose started growing hair all around her body. Hands started to become paws and a snout was growing from her mouth. Sharp teeth grew until Rose suddenly became a monster.

Fray stepped back and Rose growled at her parents. She quickly ran out the front door and went into the deep, dark forest.

"Emeny! Emeny! Wake up!" Fray panicked.

Emeny didn't wake up. Her hand was as cold as the ground.

Her heart stopped beating.

She was dead.

"The price has been paid! The price has been paid! Your wife has died and your daughter is now a beast just like you! You will forever be alone just as you were when you were a beast!"

Fray cried with immense anger.

"You cursed me! I was never human to begin with! Why did you do this?"

"I'm bound to this forsaken forest for all eternity. Your daughter will be my vessel as I will escape from this wretched place."

Fray was shocked.

"Please, turn me back into a beast! I do not want to be human anymore! Take me. I will be your beast. I will be your vessel."

"But you are already a beast."

Fray looked at his hands and with immense fear, he roared in disbelief.

"You are a beast and forever a beast. And your daughter will be my vessel. ----hahaha----"


And Fray went into the forest to find his daughter as he is forever the beast named Fray.


Source: A Beast Named Eliza (video game)


Ever looked in the mirror and have the strange feeling of someone else staring back at you, something not quite right or not quite human?

Ever have the feeling that after looking in the mirror, you turned around and you have the nagging feeling that your reflection is still there staring at your back?

You may have experience the simulacrum phenomenon.

“A simulacrum (plural: simulacra from Latin: simulacrum, which means "likeness, similarity”) is a representation or imitation of a person or thing. The word was first recorded in the English language in the late 16th century, used to describe a representation, such as a statue or a painting, especially of a god. By the late 19th century, it had gathered a secondary association of inferiority: an image without the substance or qualities of the original.“


Thanks to horror movies, I have always had the irrational fear of mirrors during the night. The truth is, despite the fact that I’ve seen how mirrors are made and know the science behind it, looking at my own reflection still freaks me out. I am always afraid that if I look at the mirror too long, it will reflect something standing behind me that is not there in real life, or something might show up and crawl out of the mirror, or worse, my own reflection distorted or not my own, smiling sinisterly back at me while I stare at it in horror and jump out of the mirror to kill me.

History has shown that many shamans, witch doctors, and magic practitioners of the old days used mirrors one way or another as a medium for their rituals. To them, mirrors are like a gateway to the other world, a world that may be similar to our, but operates at an alternate capacity than our world, or at the very least, the opposite of our world. It’s not just a matter of this other you who does things with their left hand instead of their right like you do, but also personality-wise, this other you might be completely different. Worst case scenario, could be an evil, more monstrous version of you.

Mirrors were also often used to try and trap spirits within it as a form of exorcism, and also used to help us see and reflect things your naked eye can’t see. We’ve seen hundreds of testimonials and experiences of people seeing something on the mirror, but turn around to see that there is nothing there, or vice versa (ie, see something or someone next to them but doesn’t appear in their reflection). Apparitions, ghosts, full fledged beings, even rituals like Bloody Mary or peeling an apple in front of the mirror at midnight to see your future spouse… all of them one way or another points to the mirror as the source.

The truth of the matter is despite the harmless reflection, we don’t exactly know what goes on behind the mirror. It could be just that: a mirror reflecting things, or it could be an actual world behind that mirror, and that sinister you behind that mirror is waiting, biding its time, looking for the perfect opportunity to take your place, trap you in their world, and make you watch helplessly as it takes over your life and replaces you to live your life with no one the wiser, or worse, do unimaginable things to your loved ones and moved on to the next victim while wearing your persona.

Until then, come nightfall, I will never let myself be reflected on the mirror, and if I have to, I will not look up and I will not look at my reflection until I know I’m safe in daylight.

I don’t want to know what I might see.

Checking out at the store, the young cashier suggested to the much older lady that she should bring her own grocery bags, because plastic bags are not good for the environment.

The woman apologized to the young girl and explained, "We didn't have this 'green thing' back in my earlier days."

The young clerk responded, "That's our problem today. Your generation did not care enough to save our environment for future generations."

The older lady said that she was right -- our generation didn't have the "green thing" in its day. The older lady went on to explain:

Back then, we returned milk bottles, soda bottles and beer bottles to the store. The store sent them back to the plant to be washed and sterilized and refilled, so it could use the same bottles over and over. So they really were recycled. But we didn't have the "green thing" back in our day.

Grocery stores bagged our groceries in brown paper bags that we reused for numerous things. Most memorable besides household garbage bags was the use of brown paper bags as book covers for our school books. This was to ensure that public property (the books provided for our use by the school) was not defaced by our scribblings. Then we were able to personalize our books on the brown paper bags. But, too bad we didn't do the "green thing" back then.

We walked up stairs because we didn't have an escalator in every store and office building. We walked to the grocery store and didn't climb into a 300-horsepower machine every time we had to go two blocks.

But she was right. We didn't have the "green thing" in our day.

Back then we washed the baby's diapers because we didn't have the throw away kind. We dried clothes on a line, not in an energy-gobbling machine burning up 220 volts. Wind and solar power really did dry our clothes back in our early days. Kids got hand-me-down clothes from their brothers or sisters, not always brand-new clothing.

But that young lady is right; we didn't have the "green thing" back in our day.

Back then we had one TV, or radio, in the house -- not a TV in every room. And the TV had a small screen the size of a handkerchief (remember them?), not a screen the size of the state of Montana. In the kitchen we blended and stirred by hand because we didn't have electric machines to do everything for us. When we packaged a fragile item to send in the mail, we used wadded up old newspapers to cushion it, not Styrofoam or plastic bubble wrap. Back then, we didn't fire up an engine and burn gasoline just to cut the lawn. We used a push mower that ran on human power. We exercised by working so we didn't need to go to a health club to run on treadmills that operate on electricity.

But she's right; we didn't have the "green thing" back then.

We drank from a fountain when we were thirsty instead of using a cup or a plastic bottle every time we had a drink of water. We refilled writing pens with ink instead of buying a new pen, and we replaced the razor blade in a r azor instead of throwing away the whole razor just because the blade got dull.

But we didn't have the "green thing" back then.

Back then, people took the streetcar or a bus and kids rode their bikes to school or walked instead of turning their moms into a 24-hour taxi service in the family's $45,000 SUV or van, which cost what a whole house did before the"green thing." We had one electrical outlet in a room, not an entire bank of sockets to power a dozen appliances. And we didn't need a computerized gadget to receive a signal beamed from satellites 23,000 miles out in space in order to find the nearest burger joint.

But isn't it sad the current generation laments how wasteful we old folks were just because we didn't have the "green thing" back then?

Please forward this on to another selfish old person who needs a lesson in conservation from a smart ass young person.

We don't like being old in the first place, so it doesn't take much to piss us off... Especially from a tattooed, multiple pierced smartass who can't make change without the cash register telling them how much.

I sat with two friends, in the picture window of a quaint restaurant just off the corner of the town-square.. The food and the company were both especially good that day.

As we talked, my attention was drawn outside, across the street. There, walking into town, was a man who appeared to be carrying all his worldly goods on his back. He was carrying, a well-worn sign that read, 'I will work for food.'  My heart sank.

I brought him to the attention of my friends and noticed that others around us had stopped eating to focus on him.. Heads moved in a mixture of sadness and disbelief.

We continued with our meal, but his image lingered in my mind. We finished our meal and went our separate ways.. I had errands to do and quickly set out to accomplish them. I glanced toward the town square, looking somewhat halfheartedly for the strange visitor. I was fearful, knowing that seeing him again would call some response. I drove through town and saw nothing of him I made some purchases at a store and got back in my car.

Deep within me, the Spirit of God kept speaking to me: 'Don't go back to the office until you've at least driven once more around the square.'

Then with some hesitancy, I headed back into town. As I turned the square's third corner, I saw him. He was standing on the steps of the church, going through his sack.

I stopped and looked; feeling both compelled to speak to him, yet wanting to drive on. The empty parking space on the corner seemed to be a sign from God: an invitation to park. I pulled in, got out and approached the town's newest visitor.

'Looking for the pastor?' I asked.

'Not really,' he replied, 'just resting

'Have you eaten today?'

'Oh, I ate something early this morning.'

'Would you like to have lunch with me?'

'Do you have some work I could do for you?'

'No work,' I replied. 'I commute here to work from the city, but I would like to take you to lunch.

Sure,' he replied with a smile.

As he began to gather his things, I asked some surface questions. Where you headed?'

'St. Louis'

'Where you from?'

'Oh, all over; mostly Florida '

'How long you been walking?'

'Fourteen years,' came the reply.

I knew I had met someone unusual. We sat across from each other in the same restaurant I had left earlier His face was weathered slightly beyond his 38 years. His eyes were dark yet clear, and he spoke with an eloquence and articulation that was startling. He removed his jacket to reveal a bright red T-shirt that said, 'Jesus is The Never Ending Story.'

Then Daniel's story began to unfold. He had seen rough times early in life. He'd made some wrong choices and reaped the consequences. Fourteen years earlier, while backpacking across the country, he had stopped on the beach in Daytona. He tried to hire on with some men who were putting up a large tent and some equipment. A concert, he thought.

He was hired, but the tent would not house a concert but revival services, and in those services he saw life more clearly. He gave his life over to God

'Nothing's been the same since,' he said, 'I felt the Lord telling me to keep walking, and so I did, some 14 years now.'

'Ever think of stopping?' I asked.

'Oh, once in a while, when it seems to get the best of me.  But God has given me this calling. I give out Bibles.. That's what's in my sack. I work to buy food and Bibles, and I give them out when His Spirit leads.'

I sat amazed.  My homeless friend was not homeless. He was on a mission and lived this way by choice. The question burned inside for a moment and then I asked: 'What's it like?'

'What? '

'To walk into a town carrying all your things on your back and to show your sign?'

'Oh, it was humiliating at first. People would stare and make comments. Once someone tossed a piece of half-eaten bread and made a gesture that certainly didn't make me feel welcome. But then it became humbling to realize that God was using me to touch lives and change people's concepts of other folks like me.'

My concept was changing, too. We finished our dessert and gathered his things. Just outside the door, he paused. He turned to me and said, 'Come Ye blessed of my Father and inherit the kingdom I've prepared for you. For when I was hungry you gave me food , when I was thirsty you gave me drink, a stranger and you took me in.'

I felt as if we were on holy ground. 'Could you use another Bible?' I asked.

He said he preferred a certain translation. It traveled well and was not too heavy. It was also his personal favorite. 'I've read through it 14 times,' he said.

'I'm not sure we've got one of those, but let's stop by our church and see'. I was able to find my new friend a Bible that would do well, and he seemed very grateful.

'Where are you headed from here?' I asked..

'Well, I found this little map on the back of this amusement park coupon.'

'Are you hoping to hire on there for awhile?'

'No, I just figure I should go there. I figure someone under that star right there needs a Bible, so that's where I'm going next.'

He smiled, and the warmth of his spirit radiated the sincerity of his mission. I drove him back to the town-square where we'd met two hours earlier, and as we drove, it started raining. We parked and unloaded his things.

'Would you sign my autograph book?' he asked. 'I like to keep messages from folks I meet.'

I wrote in his little book that his commitment to his calling had touched my life. I encouraged him to stay strong. And I left him with a verse of scripture from Jeremiah, 'I know the plans I have for you, declared the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you; Plans to give you a future and a hope.'

'Thanks, man,' he said. 'I know we just met and we're really just strangers, but I love you.'

'I know,' I said, 'I love you, too.' 'The Lord is good!'

'Yes, He is. How long has it been since someone hugged you?' I asked.

'A long time,' he replied

And so on the busy street corner in the drizzling rain, my new friend and I embraced, and I felt deep inside that I had been changed. He put his things on his back, smiled his winning smile and said, 'See you in the New Jerusalem .'

'I'll be there!' was my reply.

He began his journey again. He headed away with his sign dangling from his bedroll and pack of Bibles. He stopped, turned and said, 'When you see something that makes you think of me, will you pray for me?'

'You bet,' I shouted back, 'God bless.'

'God bless.' And that was the last I saw of him.

Late that evening as I left my office, the wind blew strong. The cold front had settled hard upon the town. I bundled up and hurried to my car. As I sat back and reached for the emergency brake, I saw them... a pair of well-worn brown work gloves neatly laid over the length of the handle. I picked them up and thought of my friend and wondered if his hands would stay warm that night without them.

Then I remembered his words: 'If you see something that makes you think of me, will you pray for me?'

Today his gloves lie on my desk in my office. They help me to see the world and its people in a new way, and they help me remember those two hours with my unique friend and to pray for his ministry. 'See you in the New Jerusalem,' he said. Yes, Daniel, I know I will...

Once upon a time there was an old miller who had two children who were twins. The boy-twin was named Hans, and he was very greedy. The girl-twin was named Hilda, and she was very lazy. Hans and Hilda had no mother, because she died whilst giving birth to their third sibling, named Engel, who had been sent away to live wtih the gypsies. Hans and Hilda were never allowed out of the mill, even when the miller went away to the market.

One day, Hans was especially greedy and Hilda was especially lazy, and the old miller wept with anger as he locked them in the cellar, to teach them to be good.

"Let us try to escape and live with the gypsies," said Hans, and Hilda agreed.

While they were looking for a way out, a Big Brown Rat came out from behind the log pile.

"I will help you escape and show you the way to the gypsies' campl," said the Big Brown Rat, "if you bring me all your father's grain."

So Hans and Hilda waited until their father let them out, and the next day, when the miller went to the market and left the children locked inside the mill, they carried all the grain down to the cellar. The Big Brown Rat gobbled up the grain until there was none left, and then went to sleep behind the log pile.

When the miller came home and found out, he declared that he was ruined and that they would all starve to death, and he locked the children in the cellar, and wept with fear as he turned the key.

The Big Brown Rat was waiting.

"I will only help the boy-child to escape and show him the way to the gypsies' camp," said the Big Brown Rat, "because the girl-child must stay behind and be my wife. Come back once you've organized the wedding."

"Once I've escaped, I find our brother Engel and lead him back to rescue you," whispered Hans to Hilda. So Hans and Hilda waited until their father let them out.

The next day, when the miller was out bartering for new grain, they made a trail of bread crumbs all round the mill and into the cellar, to show the wedding guests where to go. They took the most important pages out of the hymnal, so that the priest would have the right words to say. Then they stole the miller's best Sunday jacket, and took in the shoulders so that it would fit Hans, and they stole their mother's wedding dress and took up the hem so that it would fit Hilda. Then she put it on and she looked lovely, but when the miller returned from the market and saw them dressed up in the wedding clothes, he wept with shame as he beat them, and threw them both into the cellar once more.

The wedding guests were already assembled. There were mice and voles and stoats in the congregation. The choir was made up of crows, who were already singing. The registrar was a big fat spider, with spectacles on. And the priest was a long, grey weasel, who was busy rehearsing the right words from the hymnal.

Hans walked Hilda down the aisle, and the Big Brown Rat was waiting.

The weasel said, "Do you accept this offered paw in binding and inescapable holy matrimony, Hilda Girl-Child?"

Hilda looked at Hans, who nodded as if to remind her that he would rescue her.

"I do," said Hilda.

The weasel said, "Do you take this innocent young hand for your very own, Engel Monstrous Rat-Baby?"

"I do," said the Big Brown Rat before anyone could interrupt.

"Then I now pronounce you man and wife," squeaked the weasel as quick as he could, and in a flash all of the wedding party scattered, and Hans and Hilda were left alone with the Big Brown Rat.

"I don't understand," said Hans.

The Big Brown Rat pushed Hans through a secret tunnel that led down to the river bank, and Hans escaped and ran off and became a beggar boy. Of course, he never found his brother Engel, and never rescued Hilda. The old miller finally hung himself, but nobody minded, and Hilda died whilst giving birth to a beautiful litter of thirteen baby rats who grew fat on the miller's grain and lived happily ever after.

Excerpt from the game "Bon-Bon"

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