Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
-- Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5
got pictures for Wednesday instead of words and now we have to supply
our own words.
pictures on Words For Wednesday were provided by Margaret
Adamson and her friend Sue Fulcher. Thank you for these two
challenging photos. You will find both photos offered and other
stories posted at the blog of
FEVER by Granny Annie The
island could be seen across the ocean in the fog. The jungle
that surrounded us was less appealing, though the elegant hotel made
up for the massive foliage that surrounded us. We
sipped our drinks in the shade and despite all the beauty we look
forward to going home. The travel agent had not said the mosquitoes
and other jungle infestations and animals would feel so threatening.
It would still be days before the boat returned to pick us up. The
third day dawned and we could hear a soft distant drum beat. It
was echoing through the forest. The rhythm of the sounds grew louder
and closer. The employees and other guests of the hotel begin to
scurry around. They grabbed their belongings and moved in a
panic toward the exit. We were totally confused about what was about
to happen. We had not yet seen the swarm of pygmy warriors descending
on our hotel. These natives were armed with spears, knives and poison
blow darts. They had shrunken heads as decorations on what little
clothing they wore. Our
tour guides had assured us this was a safe place for a vacation.
Those tour guides had already disappeared with the fleeing guests. My
husband noticed two large baskets and quickly turned one over me and
told me to crouch down as he turned the other over himself and we
quietly stayed hidden against the wall. It
took several hours for the carnage to end. We could barely
breath and did not even whisper to each other. My husband finally
determined it would be safe for us to vacate our basket havens. We
were at the water's edge the last few days waiting for the boat.
There was never a more glorious sight than the appearance of
our rescue transport arriving to pick us up. We shared the story of
what happened to the others. We were so very happy to be able to
escape this island and return home. The
boat moved away from the shore but nor before we heard the drums once
more and rejoiced that we were just out of the range of spears and
darts being hurled toward us.
don't you want to go look at the pictures and come up with your own
Believe in God. And Trump is NOT the answer. And do unto others
as they would like done unto them. (the Platinum Rule.) And life is
short; don't make mountains out of molehills. Smell the flowers and
swing on the swings.