______ States of America

"United states of america"


This is something that a 18 year old boy who is growing up in the states sees all around himself. Almost as thought it's been brainwashed into his brain, and is being forced to believe it. It really is a puzzling thing that even the past two generations have seen not a whole lot of. "United we stand." Is it true? Do we, as Americans stand for each other? Or do we only believe in a lie that was once true?

I look around me, social media, politics, and just general life and civilization as it is. All these things about being politically correct about how we say things to each other,  and treating others equally. Has that become the moral focus of our equality? Has that become what we call "United?"

Again, I stare around me looking at things such as equality, racism, and sexism rip apart families in a way that is terrifying to me. Why are we letting things like that become the focus of our nature when there really is only one thing we need to focus on?

I bet you're all wondering "what do we need to focus on, Jon?" And it's going to sound really corny to you. But, it's really simple. God.

"Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world. Red, and yellow, black and white, we are precious in his sight. He loves the little children of the world."

Now if you read that and got caught up on how scandalous that is. Shut up, take a walk, and talk to me when your mind is clear, because you are proving my point. You completely missed the focus of that song. It's not pointing out any differences in our races. It's in fact telling us that Jesus loves all of us no matter what. It's uniting us as not only a country, but a world. Take it from Jesus, he knows a thing or two about being united.

When Death is Crowned: Dream.

The deep depths of snow filled the dome with snow. It was filling up fast. What is going on? Black slowly approached the snow and caught it on fire. Soon everything was on fire. The depths of Heather’s subconscious looked just like this. She was happy here. This was her home. And it was.

Everything had taken form, it molded into her house, she knew not of what was going on. But her first thought was to run to her bed, and that is what she did. This was strange. She is controlling her dream. Could she control other things in her dream? She picked up a vase full of dead flowers and dropped it “Don’t break!” It fell to the floor, clattering around spilling the flowers on the floor. The noise echoed down the rustic looking hallway, with pictures hanging on its sides. She noticed something bazaar about the images that the frames closed in…

…Taking a step toward them, in one she could see a man pulling her up a cliff, into a white room. She looked to the image opposite. It was crooked, shaking actually. It held and image of her running away from the missile strike. Pieces of rubble flying everywhere, missiles raining from the sky, as far as she could see. Everything was being destroyed. A security van outside exploded right next to her, she didn't seem to feel the pressure of the explosion, in fact she seemed protected from it. The house was leveled behind her; there is no way that anyone came out of this alive. When the tremor hit, she watched herself fall to her knees. She couldn't help. The yellow school bus was flying toward Heather at an alarming speed. She knew what was about to happen. Heather reached her hands out and the bus lifted up.

A Helicopter she hadn't noticed flew over her head, It opened up, a man showed his face, He had a dark complexion, he was strong. He pulled out a rifle of some sort, got heather in his cross hairs, and fired. She watched as they flew away. She watched Heather’s eyes roll to the back of her head. Heather was fighting this, and making it worse. Her eyes closed at that moment. She lay there. The bus fell sideways to a horrifying stop.

She was startled back into reality with the sound of the door behind her opening. The light was shining. She only saw the shape of a female walking into the house. Wind blew from behind, as the door was forced shut. Leaves were rustling around the foyer. She was looking at the shoes of the woman in front of her. She wore Black converse with white laces, green corduroy skinny pants, and a white t-shirt. This woman had a nice sense of style.

It took her a moment. The face of the woman was familiar. She had darker toned skin, with longer face, a nose piercing, and a smaller sized pointy nose. What made her realize what she was looking at was the brown, wavy hair. She was looking at herself.

She asked the obvious question, “Where did you come from?” She didn't want to sound stupid.

Heather replied with exactly what she thought she would say “Hanging out, you know.”

“I really have no clue actually. I was just watching me, or you, or whoever it was, in a memory of mine. As though it was a movie! That’s not normal” She wondered if wherever she was sleeping, if she was sleep talking.

The other heather walked over to the kitchen, and opened the cupboard, “Why is the tea always gone?” She was disappointed with this, well, they both were.

“I need some coffee, or something to get me thinking.” She walked over to the coffee maker, conveniently already brewed fresh coffee. “Would you like some?”

The other Heather nodded, “Yes please, with cream, no sugar.”

“I know how you like it.” She said, smiling. She kind of liked this whole idea. She looked out the window, there was a field covered in tall grass, all leading up to a dead, tree.  There was someone next to it, a man, in a black tux, bow-tie, and a mask?

“Heather, hand me the camera, please.” She said this with urgency. She wasn't sure about this.

The camera was in her hands, in no time. She zoomed in on the character, who seemed to be getting closer to the window, seemed to know she was there. She focused on the mask, the white mask. And diagonally painted in red was the word “Fear.” It was working. The masked, man seemed to be moving toward the window at a slow pace, but he wasn't moving his legs. He was gently moving over the ground, as though hovering. This scared Heather, and Heather. They both panicked.

She felt a pull, a tug, as though she was on the end of a rope, a dog collar. She started to get dizzy beyond belief. Actually, everything that’s happened has made this dizziness feel refreshing, a normal feeling. Everything started to fade out. The other Heather was in a corner of the kitchen, sitting on the floor hugging her knees. She was crying. Banging on the window is the last thing she could take. Heather started screaming “GO AWAY! PLEASE!” She was sobbing. The sound of shattered glass behind her was the sound that queued her.

She was lying on the floor of a dark void of emptiness. There was nothing she could do to assist Heather with the horrors from above, or down below. Where was she? Where is she? Who is she, Heather? Who is Heather? She had so many questions, and as far as she knows she is lying 50,000 feet above sea level, on a cliff in Sweden. She knew so much about Heather, but she knew nothing about herself. She needed questions answered now. And she didn't’t know who to trust. Not even herself. 

When Death is Crowned: Who's Tracy?

The mountains of Sweden were one of the most beautiful sights to see after waking up on clear day. She looked out the massive window from her king size bed. She looked around her room. White. White everything. She had no idea where she was. Or what she was doing. She had no idea of anything. She tried digging into her memory, but she only saw a woman running. That’s all she could remember. She didn’t even remember who the woman was?

She thought long and hard about that and came to the only logical conclusion. She had gone into a coma last night and forgotten everything in her past. Great. This was just wonderful. For all she knew there is some crisis and she can’t help at all with it. For all she knew World War 3 could be starting up. And she was the key to winning it. But that’s likely not the case.

She probably just lost everything in her memory. She probably was in her vacation home in the Smoky Mountains, and her husband was about to walk in the room with a warm cup of coffee to wake her up. Coffee. She let out a long sigh as she let the thought seep deep into her mind. Whatever happened to her, she knew that she needed coffee.

She threw her covers off, got out, and realized. She has nothing but a nightgown on. And ye arctic lies ahead.  She shuddered as her feet touched the ground. Apparently her teeth clattered a bit, cause when she turned her head, there was a man standing there, tall, pale, and bald. He was holding a hot cup of coffee, for her, she presumed.

He spoke in a low, rumbling voice “My name is Aton Bowden, I’m aware you might be confused. So I came to let you know that Breakfast is down the hall and there is freshly brewed coffee. They made it especially for you”

She wondered if he knew how confused she was. She figured she would ask. “W-w-wait, l-l-let me get t-t-t-this…completely c-c-clear…” She took a break. She was stuttering? Has she always been this stupid? “…You didn’t b-bring that coffee ffffor me?”

Aton chuckled. Comforting. And then he spoke in a mocking tone “First of all, this is not for you. Second of all, this is Hot Chocolate. I don’t like coffee”.

She was in awe. “Okay. I need some time to gather myself. I’ll be out in a few hours. I mean…sorry…minutes.”

He nodded, took a sip of his imposter coffee, spun; and left the room with a slow close of the door. She sighed. There is no way I’m married to him. He doesn’t seem of the rich and famous personality. He looks too poor.

She walked toward the desk with a plastic green apple on it, the only thing of color in the room. She tried to think, “who am I? Where am I? Who is “Aton Bowden” and where did he come from? He sounds Mexican, or German…”

Her world began to spin, in a daze she fell toward the giant window, overlooking the mountains. When she put her hands to catch herself, the window shattered into thousands of pieces. She saw in the spin that Aton was running for her. But it was too late. She was falling into an empty void.

Her eyes started watering. Is this how she was going to die? Is this the end? She just woke up and couldn’t even remember who she is, and this is when she dies? Maybe. Maybe not. Who knows really? Unless Aton happens to be a master martial artist, then she really doesn’t stand a chance against fifty-thousand feet to who knows what. 

The great ouside

I awoke this morning too a dark room, and smiled. I could hear the frigid wind gusting its way around my towering household. It was the perfect day for a specific shot I've been dreaming of for over the past two years.

I throw my balmy covers off of me, and shiver at the realization that my room, is too, also frigid. Touching my feet to the floor sent chills up and down my spine. You get the point, it was cold.

One thing led to another and I was outside, in full winter gear, prepared for total gusts of pure snow. With a camera on a tripod, I was standing on the top of a hill, totally exposed to bitter winter. I had it set and ready, it looked exactly how I pictured it in my head (only better) and I was ready...for...a sore finger. After continuous shutter sound for an hour, my neighbor was watching me, probably thinking I'm a madman. Especially when I was dancing in a snowdrift after I finally got the shot.

Here's the picture...

Thanks for reading, you can see more pictures like this at my facebook page "I spy photography" Thanks again!