WELCOME TO THE REALM OF STRANGE FICTION I began writing fiction when I was still in elementary school -- but I never saved a thing. During lunch and recess all my friends would gather around to listen to the most recent offerings from my twisted mind. Now I share my twisted mind with you. I hope that you all enjoy, and come back for more. I welcome your comments at the end of each story. These comments could serve to help me to improve my writing. PLEASE LEAVE YOUR COMMENTS. THANKS.

Wednesday, July 20, 2011


Here are the first 2 chapters of my sci-fi novel, STAR CHASERS. I would love to know how you like it. Do the first 2 chapters make you want to read more?


Strangers Meet


Ah Dom sat hunched under the tree. It was dead; he felt as if he were dead, as well. It was cold and night fall was upon him. He had no clothes – nothing to warm him. His head had been shaved and he could feel the markings that had been branded into his flesh. They were feathered slashes that began at the top of his head and ran all the way down his right arm. He couldn’t understand why they would brand him this way and shave off his lengths of jet black hair. His hair had been a symbol of his status in the empire. He felt he was going to be sick. He heard a howling in the distance. He didn’t recognize the long, low lament. It was new to him.


            The blue tick coon dog pulled taunt on his chain as he sniffed the air. He wailed loudly, over and over, until his master emerged from the small cabin.

            “What’s wrong, Cassidy?” The young man looked off into the direction the dog was straining towards. “You smell a coon, boy? You want to hunt?” Bow in hand, he released his dog and followed as the animal howled through the woods.


            Ah Dom heard the wailing sounds coming closer. He tried to conceal himself in some underbrush near the dead tree. He wanted to move further into the forest and out of this clearing he was in, but the howling was too close. Soon, the blue tick hound came crashing through the woods into the clearing. Without hesitation Cassidy leapt into the underbrush where Ah Dom crouched.

            Cassidy nuzzled Ah Dom as if he understood the young man’s misery. Ah Dom sighed in relief, as he hugged the dog for warmth. Then, the man came, seeking his dog. “Cassidy,” he called. Where are you boy?” Ah Dom sank back into the brush in hope of not being seen, but the dog barked, and his master came to see what had been trapped.

“What is it boy?” The man peered into the underbrush. His eyes met Ah Dom’s. He stared in awe of the stranger. Ah Dom’s aquamarine eyes were unlike any the young man had ever seen; they were so large and searching. The markings that covered Ah Dom’s head and limbs reminded him of the tats of some gang members he had known in prison; but, Ah Dom didn’t look like he belonged to any gang. He was small, not much more than a boy and his skin was so pale; almost albino. He heard sirens and realized that on the road circling his mountain, police were hunting for someone; maybe this someone. He removed his field jacket and helped Ah Dom up, placing the jacket around him.


Matt Brady noisily searched his cabin for his younger brother’s clothes. Jim had been  slender, like the stranger; maybe a little larger, but these clothes would do for now. He had packed Jim’s clothes in a box and placed it in the closet after he got out of prison. He remembered how Jim had been so happy when Matt agreed to move to their granddad’s mountain after he came home from Iraq. Then, like an idiot, Matt got into trouble and ended up in prison. Jim had been left there in the cabin alone. Matt never knew what exactly happened, but his little brother was dead and he hadn’t been there to do anything to stop it.

He could hear a police car getting closer to his cabin. He hoped that they wouldn’t question the other young man’s appearance. Maybe the clothes would hide his looks enough to keep from drawing attention. He worried about the tats and the pale skin. He had tats and hoped they would think that this stranger simply had tats like his. Maybe they weren’t even looking for any one with tats. Still, he had more to worry about than just the tats. He had Ah Dom sit at the table, in the shadows, where he would be out of direct view of the door.

A car pulled up outside. Matt removed his outer shirt, so that his tats would show around his wife beater under shirt. Maybe, he thought, if the cops were distracted by his appearance, they wouldn’t even notice his visitor.

There came a knock at the door and Matt opened it. It was just one cop. He was a sloppy fat goober that Matt had seen in town before. This guy had some kind of power fantasy and was always trying to flaunt his authority.

“Hey there, Officer Downs; what can I do for you today?” Matt said leaning against the door frame, hoping to block the view to the interior of the cabin.

“Did you hear a crash earlier?”

“I heard something, but my dog was making so damn much noise I couldn’t much tell what it was.”

“Did you see anything?”

“Like what?’

“Sir, have you seen anything out of the ordinary tonight?”

“Naw, just a fat cop on my land.”

Officer Downs appeared either angry or exasperated as he walked back to his car with Matt looking on. “Look,” he said turning back to Matt. “If you see or hear anything strange, call the local dispatcher. Is that okay? Will you do that?”

“Oh, sure; you bet.” Matt watched as the cop car pulled away. He turned back and looked at Ah Dom. “Yep, I’ll call them all right. I’ll just stick my head out this door and yell. Not my fault if they don’t hear me. Got no phones up here.”

Matt sat down at the table, opposite Ah Dom. “You are one strange looking son-of-a-bitch. Where did you come from?”

Ah Dom sat silently; glad to be in the warmth of the cabin. Matt stood and went to the fireplace where a pot hung over the logs. He took a bowl and spooned some hot chili into it. Returning to the table he placed the bowl in front of Ah Dom, and stretched his muscular arm out to snatch a loaf of bread off a nearby counter.

“You may as well get some food in you. I bet you’re hungry.”

Ah Dom gratefully took bread and began dipping it into the hot mixture. He was ravenous. He wasn’t sure when he had last eaten. He remembered the cruiser; and then; nothing. He wasn’t even sure where he was. This humanoid helping him looked strange. His hair was long, not as long as Ah Dom’s had been before he was marooned on this planet, only about shoulder length; and this one’s hair was thick and wooly, like the Crevats on Hadat. Like the Crevats, his face was wooly as well, but rather than a wooly body, this man was branded all over like the slaves of Tanof. He wondered what sort of man this was.

“So, my friend what do I call you? I’m Matt. This here is my coon dog, Cassidy. You can call him Butch if you like.” Matt laughed at his own joke, expecting Ah Dom to get it. Ah Dom remained silent.

            Ah Dom wondered what language it was this creature spoke. He thought that he was familiar with the languages of all the slave planets in the galaxy. But this was new. Perhaps this wasn’t a slave planet at all. The other who had come earlier had no slave markings. He could be one of the masters. Ah Dom was confused. He had dedicated his life to bringing freedom to all slaves, of all planets, but this one was new to him. He had no idea what planet he had been stranded on. Was he even still in the Kadar galaxy?

            “Are you going to tell me your name? Or do I have to name you?”

            Ah Dom looked at Matt with puzzlement.

            “Okay then. I’m Matt. You got it? Matt.”


“Good. And this is Cassidy.” The big dog laid his head on Ah Dom’s lap. “Cassidy,” Matt repeated.

“Cassidy.” Ah Dom scratched Cassidy’s large head and tested his ability to communicate with this noble animal. You and your master can help me, if you will.

Cassidy perked his head up and whimpered. We’ll help you.

Matt, didn’t recognize the exchange that took place between the two. He was just glad to see the stranger making an attempt to communicate.

“Cassidy,” Ah Dom repeated.           

“Oh, you’re good. So -- now what about you?” Matt pointed at Ah Dam.

“Ah Dom,” he said, pointing to himself.

            “Well okay then, Adam. Good to meet you.” Matt held his hand out.

            Ah Dom, now Adam, looked strangely at Matt’s hand. He wondered what Matt was handing him, but he saw nothing. Cassidy whimpered again and Adam understood. This was a form of greeting. He took Matt’s hand in friendship.

            Adam had made strange new friends, on a strange new planet, and he had been given a new name. Matt provided Adam with a place to lie down for the night. He called it a bunk. It mattered not to Adam. It was warm and comfortable.

He didn’t know, or understand, why he had been removed from the cruiser bound for Kazar. He knew he had made enemies. There were many who wanted him dead because of his politics. Slavery was a very profitable business in the Kazarian Empire, but if Adam had his way, and he would upon the inauguration, it would be abolished throughout the Kadar galaxy. He knew that stranding him on some distant planet would be one way of silencing him, but he swore it wouldn’t work. He didn’t know, however, why he had been marked as a slave or why his long, jet black hair, the symbol of his Kazarian royalty, had been shaved.  

As he lay down his head, he vowed to search out those who had stranded him and renew his rightful place in the empire. He was certain that his brother, Cy Dom, would be searching for him. After all, he was to be crowned as emperor soon. His brother wouldn’t allow the empire to be left without its emperor. But, for now ... he must rest. He pondered these things as sleep over took him, in the home of his new friends, Matt and Cassidy.


New Day

Adam awoke to a mixture of aromas. His stomach rumbled entreating him to search for the source of the savory essence. He rose from his bed, looking across the one room cabin. Cassidy sat expectantly awaiting breakfast. He whimpered at Adam. Matt stood by a fire, filling plates with food that promised to satisfy the palate.

“Mornin’ Adam,” Matt said. “Come on and sit down. I’m a pretty good cook, if I do say so myself.”

Cassidy whimpered again and Adam laughed.

“What?” Matt was confused. “Oh well, come on and sit down.”

Adam wasn’t certain what Matt had said, but he understood when Cassidy told him he was being invited to eat. He went to the table to enjoy the meal Matt had prepared.

“I got to go to town today,” Matt said. “I guess you don’t have a clue what I’m talking about, though. I think you’ll be okay here with Cassidy. You two seem to have something going that I’m not being let in on anyway.”

Adam was enjoying the food that Matt had given him. He had eaten foods similar to this on his home world of Kazar. Some of the more primitive villages served animal flesh. He didn’t remember it tasting quite this good though. Even so, the meal made him think of home. It seemed like it had been forever since he had seen home. Now he wasn’t certain if he would ever see it again.

Matt had finished his meal and grabbed the keys to his truck. “Look,” he said, “if you get hungry while I’m gone, there’s food here in the fridge.” He opened the refrigerator to show Adam the food. “Now, you stay here with Cassidy. I’ll be back soon. Okay?”

Adam stared strangely at Matt. Cassidy looked at him and whimpered and Adam appeared more relaxed. Matt looked at the two and shook his head.

“Just say okay,” Matt coaxed. “Okay, come on, okay.”

            Cassidy whimpered again.

Adam smiled and said, “Okay.”

            “You’re learning,” Matt said. “I’m not sure who’s teaching you, but you’re learning. Oh well, I’ll be back soon.”

            He went out to the old ’65 Ford Ranger that sat in front of the cabin. This had been his granddad’s truck. Matt remembered when he and Jim were boys, coming up to the cabin to spend summers with Granddad. They had a lot of fun in that old truck. The black paint was so faded now that it looked as though it had none and before Granddad died, he had knocked quite a few dents into the old truck. Matt spent lots of time working on it to keep it running, but sometimes parts would be hard to find and he would have to rely on a little ingenuity and bailing wire.

            Adam could hear the truck for several minutes after it disappeared down the heavily wooded drive. He closed the door and went back to his bunk where he lay down to sleep some more with Cassidy curled up beside him. The fresh mountain scents of pine and recent rain made sleeping a pleasure.


            Junction was just a little town that never really grew out of the 50’s. A lot of the old shops on Main Street were closed and had been for years. When Matt arrived in town he noticed that there was much more activity than normal. Unlike most days, the streets seemed full. People were milling about, gathering in groups to talk and reading together from the local paper, a four page weekly that never seemed to have much to say. Military vehicles were parked up and down the street. State police were gathered at the local P.D. It was not a site he often saw in this sleepy little town.

            Few people paid any attention to the rattling of the old truck as Matt pulled into an empty parking space in front of the store. A soldier was walking by as Matt got out of the truck. “Say there, can you tell me what’s going on?” Matt asked.

            “Where you been? The solider said. “It’s all over the news. Grab a paper.” And he walked on.

            Grabbing a paper wasn’t so easy. Normally he wouldn’t bother with this little rag, but now he checked all the boxes in hopes of learning a little about what was going on and maybe who Adam was. The boxes were sold out, so he went into the store to get his supplies. “You got any papers?” he asked when he went up to pay.

            “Sorry,” the clerk said. “I don’t think you can get one anywhere. I never saw our paper sell out before and you should see how thick it is. I think it’s about twelve pages. It’s just freaky.”

            “Yeah, I guess it’s pretty weird, huh. Well, can you at least tell me what’s going on around here?”

            “You’re kidding, you haven’t heard?”

            “I live up on the mountain. No phones, no TV, not even a radio.”

            “What about in that beat up old truck you drove in to town?”  the clerk asked.

            “Yeah, it’s got a radio,” Matt said. “Don’t work, but it’s got one.”

            “Oh man,” the clerk said with a laugh, “you’re in a world of hurt.” Matt laughed with him and the clerk went on to give him the news. “Well, we had a space ship crash right up there on the mountain. You from up near the east ridge?”

            “Yep; I own the whole mountain.”

            “Well, you had to have heard something then,” the clerk said.

            “There was all kinds of stuff going on up there last night. Officer Downs came up to my cabin and asked if I’d seen anything out of the ordinary. He never said that any space ship crashed though.”

            “Sounds like Downs,” the clerk said. “He doesn’t seem to think anyone needs to know anything. Look, I got my copy of the paper under the counter. Here, you take it. I read it already.”

            “Thanks,” Matt said as he gathered his supplies and he headed back to the truck.

            With his supplies in the bed of the truck, Matt sat for a few minutes to look at the paper before heading home. There were photos of a gleaming silver space ship, marked with a strange dragon-like creature across the hull. The story talked about the crash and two reptilian aliens that were found, dead, beside the ship. According to the article the ship and the aliens had been taken to the local Air Force base to be studied. It said that a resident near the crash site reported seeing someone, who appeared human, stumbling away from the wreckage.

            The two dead aliens were officially reported to have been killed by a fairly large caliber hunting rifle. The eye witness stated that he has shot them because they were chasing the person he saw fleeing the ship. The reptilian bodies of the aliens had been found next to the ship, which showed no damage that they could tell, but they couldn’t get inside. The ship was one solid mass of metal with no apparent openings for doors or windows. There was no word about the human that was seen stumbling away. They hadn’t given up the search, but weren’t certain that there had been anyone. The local resident who said he saw someone had been drinking so he wasn’t considered a reliable source.


            Matt walked in the cabin with the supplies he bought in town. Adam and Cassidy had gotten up when they heard the rattling and clanking of truck. Adam sat at the table and Matt laid the paper in front of him. He studied the photos of the ship and of the two aliens. Even though the aliens were not human, it didn’t seem to surprise Adam.

            Matt was sitting in a chair near the fire when Adam got up and walked over to him. Adam reached out to touch Matt’s head. “Whoa there,” Matt said. “What do you think you’re doing?” Adam reached for Matt again and placed his hands on either side of Matt’s head. He held tightly and closed his eyes. “What is this; some kind of Vulcan mind meld, or something?” Matt’s dark brown eyes grew large as he waited to see why Adam was doing this.

            Soon Adam let go and opened his eyes. “Vulcan mind meld?” Adam said. “No, my friend. I just needed to learn your language. I’m sorry you feel I have brought trouble to you.”

            “Hey, I never said that,” Matt said.

            Adam pulled a chair over and sat down near Matt. “No,” he said, “but you were thinking it. Your newspaper says that they believe I am dangerous. Do you believe that?”

            “You just sucked my brains and you don’t know what I believe?”

            Adam smiled. “Sucked your brains? You certainly have a way with words. I tried not to invade your thoughts too much. I only needed to communicate with you; to learn your language. Do you know where the Air Force base is that they took the ship to?”

            “I know where the base is, but it’s a big place. I got no way of knowing where that ship is.”

            “If you can just take me there and leave me,” Adam said, “I can find the ship.”

            “How will you find it?” Matt was skeptical.

            “I have my ways.”

            “Okay, so when you find it what will you do?”

            “Go home.”

            “What are you, a moron or something?”

            “Moron? Not even close, my friend.”

            “Yeah, well, I haven’t decided if I’m your friend, but if I am, I’m sure not going to let you go to that base and get yourself killed, or dissected – no, they’d kill you AND dissect you.”

            “You people are barbaric, aren’t you?”

            “Yep,” Matt said, grinning. “Now, what’s the plan?”

            “The plan is to go to the Air Force base, find the ship, and leave.”

“Not much of a plan.”

Friday, July 15, 2011


I have recently published 2 non-fiction articles. One is an article about Emily Dickinson and the other is a personal essay titled Road Picnic. To read my articles go to:



I hope you will check these out.


9/30/13 As of this date I have a story in Good Old Days Magazine (12/2012) and my story Road Picnic has been published in an anthology titled Heartscapes, True Stories of Remembered Love, published by Spruce Mountain Press of Plainfield, Vermont. I'm still working to get some of the stories I have shared here published.


Wednesday, June 8, 2011

What's Been Happing with Strange Roses

I've been working hard at working hard. I set some goals, namely to write a minimum of 5 pages a day and to read a minimum of 5 pages a day. Most days I exceed this by a bit and every once in a while I don't get much of anything done. When I get an idea I usually write until I have it finished. If I haven't missed anything it looks like I have written 6 flash fictions, 5 non-fictions, 5 children's stories, 17 short stories and am working on 1 sci-fi novel.

One of the children's stories I wrote is at a friends who is an artist. She is working on the illustrations to go with it and together we will try to get it published. I have sent over a half dozen stories off either to publishers or to contests. So far I have had one rejection on a children's story I wrote with Highlights Magazine in mind. I wrote it from my Chihuahua's point of view. I thought it was rather clever. I did have one of my little flash fiction stories win a little contest in fanstory.com. That was my first win. Yeah!

I plan to just keep writing. Even if I never get published, I love the process of writing. It is truly exhilarating. If I can learn enough about it, I might try self-publishing and e-books. From what I've read on the web-sites of such people as Amanda Hocking and others, it really seems like the way to go. She has recently made quite a bit selling e-books. I bought one of hers at a whopping 99 cents. It was extremely good. It was written for young adults (YA), so I guess that makes me a young adult. It could happen ... I'm only 61. Turn it around and I'm a mere child. The ladies in my water aerobics class think I'm a mere child. Of course most of them are in their 80's.

I'll try to keep everyone posted. I go into FB at least once a week to post my current status and now I've started tweeting. Love you all and God bless.

Here's a bit of an update. 9/30/2013 Wow! Time has really passed. I've had a lull in my writing and it was good to go in and re-read the goals that I set. I haven't met these goals much lately but I can always start over again. I know that God has given me a gift to write. I wonder about some of the strange things I write. Anyway, God made me uniquely who I am. I've written a new story, extra strange one for me and with some sex and language I don't normally use. I have it posted for one week only. Enjoy.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Sorry I haven't been posting any stories here in a while. I learned that if you post a story on a blog, like this, it is considered "published", and most magazines will not accept anything that has been previously published. For this reason I will post nothing here that I plan to send to a magazine. If I write it with intentions of publishing in a book, only, then I will post it here.

I have one that I plan to put in a book called Tales from the Blue Dog Cafe. It will be a collection of weird stories told at a cafe in West Texas. We'll see how well I do with that. Anyway -- here is The Store. I hope you enjoy.

The Store
By: MJ Henry

            As I sat having some lunch and going through my notes, and older gentleman came and sat down at my table.
            “You seem pretty interested in all the strange stories people have to tell around here.”
            “It’s what I write.”
            “Would you like to hear one about our old grocery store and what happened to one woman there?”
“OK … Well, back in the late 50’s, there was a six year old, blond haired, blue eyed girl named Betsy, who had quite a fright in our old store. They say she was picture of sweetness. Everyone loved her and remarked about what a pretty little thing she was. She was her mother’s only child and went everywhere her mother went. When Betsy’s mother decided to go to the store to purchase some groceries for the evening’s meal, Betsy was right there.
They lived in a small town with only one store. The store was an old frame, two story building. The upstairs was where the store owners and Mother Agnes lived. The store itself was comprised of four aisles and one checkout counter. Off to one corner in the front of the store were the magazine and candy racks. This was always the first place Betsy would visit, while her mother would visit with Mrs. Smith, the owner’s wife.
            Betsy sat looking at the most recent issue of McCall Magazine, searching for the Betsy McCall paper doll. She loved that she had the same name as Betsy McCall. Usually, if there was a new issue, her mother would purchase it. Then Betsy could have the paper doll and her mother could enjoy the articles and recipes contained within.
            ‘Betsy?’ Her mother called after she and Mrs. Smith were finished visiting. ‘Do they have a new issue yet?’
‘Not yet, mommy.’ Betsy put the magazine back in the rack and went to her mother’s side.
As they were shopping, this particular day, Betsy was self-absorbed and lost track of which way her mother turned. To her the store with its four aisles was enormous. She became frantic when she didn’t see her mother and ran to the next aisle. She turned the wrong direction, however, and went down an aisle where she saw an old woman standing with her back to Betsy.
The old woman turned and Betsy could see that she was eating some raw meat, blood dripping down her chin. ‘Hello, Betsy,’ the old woman said. ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’
Thirty years later, Betsy was still a picture of sweetness, with her blond hair and blue eyes. She was still a pretty woman, even in her late thirties – yet, she was so full of fear. It seemed she was never quite able to get over that fateful day when she met Mother Agnes -- face to face.
Now, as she visited her home town, and old friends, she decided it was time to face her fears at the old grocery store. She had been in therapy for years, but could never bring herself to re-enter that store. The store was long since deserted and stood in ruin. The windows were gone. The doors were gone. The people were gone.
            Betsy stepped through the threshold, into what once was a grocery store. It had been a number of years since the town began to die. The Smith’s out retired and moved out of their upstairs apartment. They now lived in a small house on Front Street. Everything in the old store was covered with dust; the shelves were all empty. In the corner where Betsy once poured through McCall’s, she saw a stack of old magazines on the floor.
            “Hmm, they’re McCall’s.” She looked at the pages of paper dolls littering the floor. ‘How funny.’
            Betsy turned her attention to the aisle where she once met “Mother Agnes”. Agnes was Mrs. Smith’s mother. She had lived with them for years – every since she lost Mrs. Smith’s father in an accident. They always tried to keep her upstairs, away from people, but with just the two of them it wasn’t always possible to watch her.
‘Seems OK,’ Betsy told herself as she continued down the aisle.
There was nothing but dust and cobwebs on the shelves – once in a while she would see a stray can of some ancient food stuff. Suddenly she heard a slight rustling behind her.
“Probably a rat -- or something.”
She ignored the sound at first, but it continued. Then it began to sound like a slurp, or a smack – like someone or something noisily eating their food. She turned to see what was making the sounds. There she stood, with her back to Betsy. Betsy gasped.
Mother Agnes turned to reveal a piece of meat that had been ripped from the carcass of some animal. She hungrily devoured the meat with blood dripping down her chin.
‘Hello,’ the old woman said. ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’

They say that poor Betsy has been in the state mental hospital every since. You want to know something really funny about all this?”
“What would that be?”
“Well, they ended up sending Mother Agnes to the same hospital.”
The gentleman stood and walked away, chuckling to himself. I couldn’t help but muse over how odd this place and these people all were.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Sabbath Day Devotion
April 9, 2011
I’m sure some of you have already read the following inspirational message. Over the years, I have read it at least four times – and each time it moved me to tears. I shared this devotion in March of 2009. By request, I am sharing it again today.
Don’t Leave It On The Desk –

There was a certain Professor of Religion named Dr. Christianson, a studious man who taught at a small college in the western United States. Dr. Christianson taught the required survey course in Christianity at this particular institution. Every student was required to take this course their freshman year, regardless of his or her major.

Although Dr. Christianson tried hard to communicate the essence of the gospel in his class, he found that most of his students looked upon the course as nothing but required drudgery.. Despite his best efforts, most students refused to take Christianity seriously.

This year, Dr. Christianson had a special student named Steve. Steve was only a freshman, but was studying with the intent of going onto seminary for the ministry. Steve was popular, he was well liked, and he was an imposing physical specimen. He was now the starting center on the school football team and was the best student in the professor's class.

One day, Dr. Christianson asked Steve to stay after class so he could talk with him.. “How many push-ups can you do?”
Steve said, “I do about 200 every night.”

“200? That's pretty good, Steve,” Dr. Christianson said. “Do you think you could do 300?”
Steve replied, “I don't know... I've never done 300 at a time.”
“Do you think you could?” again asked Dr. Christianson.
“Well, I can try,” said Steve.

“Can you do 300 in sets of 10? I have a class project in mind and I need you to do about 300 push-ups in sets of ten for this to work. Can you do it? I need you to tell me you can do it,” said the professor.

Steve said, “Well... I think I can... yeah, I can do it.”

Dr. Christianson said, “Good! I need you to do this on Friday. Let me explain what I have in mind.”

Friday came and Steve got to class early and sat in the front of the room. When class started, the professor pulled out a big box of donuts. These weren't the normal kinds of donuts. They were the extra fancy BIG kind, with cream centers and frosting swirls. Everyone was pretty excited it was Friday, the last class of the day and they were going to get an early start on the weekend with a party in Dr. Christianson's class.

Dr. Christianson went to the first girl in the first row and asked, “Cynthia, do you want to have one of these donuts?”
Cynthia said, “Yes.”

Dr.. Christianson then turned to Steve and asked, “Steve, would you do ten push-ups so that Cynthia can have a donut?”

“Sure!” Steve jumped down from his desk to do a quick ten. Then Steve again sat in his desk. Dr. Christianson put a donut on Cynthia's desk.

Dr. Christianson then went to Joe, the next person, and asked, “Joe, do you want a donut?”

Joe said, “Yes.”
Dr. Christianson asked, “Steve would you do ten push-ups so Joe can have a donut?”

Steve did ten push-ups, Joe got a donut. And so it went, down the first aisle, Steve did ten push-ups for every person before they got their donut.

Walking down the second aisle, Dr. Christianson came to Scott. Scott was on the basketball team and in as good condition as Steve. He was very popular and never lacking for female companionship. The professor asked, “Scott do you want a donut?”
Scott's reply was, “Well, can I do my own push-ups?”
Dr. Christianson said, “No, Steve has to do them.”
Then Scott said, “Well, I don't want one then.”

Dr.. Christianson shrugged and then turned to Steve and asked, “Steve, would you do ten push-ups so Scott can have a donut he doesn't want?”
With perfect obedience Steve started to do ten push-ups.

Scott said, “HEY! I said I didn't want one!”

Dr. Christianson said, “Look, this is my classroom, my class, my desks and these are my donuts. Just leave it on the desk if you don't want it.” And he put a donut on Scott's desk.

By this time, Steve had begun to slow down a little. He just stayed on the floor between sets because it took too much effort to be getting up and down. You could start to see a little perspiration coming out around his brow.
Dr. Christianson started down the third row. Now the students were beginning to get a little angry. Dr. Christianson asked Jenny, “Jenny, do you want a donut?”
Sternly, Jenny said, “No.”

Then Dr. Christianson asked Steve, “Steve, would you do ten more push-ups so Jenny can have a donut that she doesn't want?”

Steve did ten. Jenny got a donut.

By now, a growing sense of uneasiness filled the room. The students were beginning to say, “No!” and there were all these uneaten donuts on the desks.

Steve had to really put forth a lot of extra effort to get these push-ups done for each donut. There began to be a small pool of sweat on the floor beneath his face, his arms and brow were beginning to get red because of the physical effort involved.

Dr. Christianson asked Robert, who was the most vocal unbeliever in the class, to watch Steve do each push up to make sure he did the full ten push-ups in a set because he couldn't bear to watch all of Steve's work for all of those uneaten donuts. He sent Robert over to where Steve was so Robert could count the set and watch Steve closely.
Dr. Christianson started down the fourth row. During his class, however, some students from other classes had wandered in and sat down on the steps along the radiators that ran down the sides of the room. When the professor realized this, he did a quick count and saw that now there were 34 students in the room. He started to worry if Steve would be able to make it.

Dr. Christianson went on to the next person and the next and the next. Near the end of that row, Steve was really having a rough time. He was taking a lot more time to complete each set.

Steve asked Dr. Christianson, “Do I have to make my nose touch on each one?”

Dr. Christianson thought for a moment, “Well, they're your push-ups. You can do them any way that you want.” And Dr. Christianson went on.
A few moments later, Jason, a recent transfer student, came to the room and was about to come in when all the students yelled in one voice, “NO! Don't come in! Stay out!”

Jason didn't know what was going on. Steve picked up his head and said, “No, let him come.”

Dr. Christianson said, “You realize that if Jason comes in you will have to do ten push-ups for him?”

Steve said, “Yes, let him come in. Give him a donut.”
Dr. Christianson said, “Okay, Steve, I'll let you get Jason's out of the way right now. Jason, do you want a donut?”

Jason, new to the room, hardly knew what was going on. “Yes,” he said, “give me a donut.”

“Steve, will you do ten push-ups so that Jason can have a donut?”

Steve did ten push-ups very slowly and with great effort. Jason, bewildered, was handed a donut and sat down. Dr Christianson finished the fourth row, and then started on those visitors seated by the heaters. Steve's arms were now shaking with each push-up in a struggle to lift himself against the force of gravity. By this time sweat was profusely dropping off of his face, there was no sound except his heavy breathing. There was not a dry eye in the room.

The very last two students in the room were two young women, both cheerleaders and very popular. Dr. Christianson went to Linda, the second to last, and asked, “Linda, do you want a doughnut?”

Linda said, very sadly, “No, thank you.”

Professor Christianson quietly asked, “Steve, would you do ten push-ups so that Linda can have a donut she doesn't want?”

Grunting from the effort, Steve did ten very slow push-ups for Linda.

Then Dr. Christianson turned to the last girl, Susan and said, “'Susan, do you want a donut?”
Susan, with tears flowing down her face, began to cry. “Dr. Christianson, can I help him?”

Dr Christianson, with tears of his own, said, “No, Steve has to do it alone. I have given him this task and he is in charge of seeing that everyone has an opportunity for a donut whether they want it or not. When I decided to have a party this last day of class, I looked at my grade book. Steve here is the only student with a perfect grade. Everyone else has failed a test, skipped class or offered me inferior work. Steve told me that in football practice, when a player messes up he must do push-ups. I told Steve that none of you could come to my party unless he paid the price by doing your push-ups. He and I made a deal for your sakes.”

“Steve, would you do ten push-ups so Susan can have a donut?”

As Steve very slowly finished his last push-up, with the understanding that he had accomplished all that was required of him, having done 350 push-ups, his arms buckled beneath him and he fell to the floor.
Dr. Christianson turned to the room and said, “And so it was, that our Savior, Jesus Christ, on the cross, said to the Father, 'Into thy hands I commend my spirit.’ With the understanding that Jesus had done everything that was required of him, he yielded up his life. And like some of those in this room, many of us leave the gift on the desk, uneaten.”

Two students helped Steve up off the floor and to a seat, physically exhausted, but wearing a thin smile. “Well done, good and faithful servant,” said the professor, adding, “Not all sermons are preached in words.”
Turning to his class, the professor said, “My wish is that you might understand and fully comprehend all the riches of grace and mercy that have been given to you through the sacrifice of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. God spared not his only begotten son, but gave him up for us all, for the whole Church, now and forever. Whether or not we choose to accept God’s gift to us, the price has been paid.”

Wouldn't you be foolish and ungrateful to leave it lying on the desk?
For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only
Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have
eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world
to condemn the world, but to save the world through him.
John 3:16-17

Saturday, April 2, 2011

Did You Hear The Sunrise?

The following isn't one of my strange stories. I was going through some stuff from back in college and found a couple of copies of the Balorian. That was the college literary magazine that I worked on, as an editor. Among the things that I had published in the Baylorian, was this poem. I read it ... and I still like it. So, here it is ... I hope you like it too.

                 By: MJ Henry

Did you hear the sunrise this morning?
Such a lovely sound.
One must truly listen,
To hear the sun expound.

Were you quiet and reverent,
As the day it did unfold?
Did you pay close attention
To the story that was told?

Come, sit on the hillside
Early in the morn.
Wait and listen as the sun comes up.
One can hear the growing corn.

The spider sitting on the rock,
Waits and listens too.
He listens to the morning songs
And drinks the morning dew.

The humming bird stops his flight
To wait so very still,
As the sun begins to peek
From over yonder hill.

The morning sun reaches out
With all his shining rays,
Gently nudging all who sleep
To rejoice in this day of days.

One can hear the joyous sound
In this special sunrise,
For the news that shall unfold
Of this day and what it shall comprise.

As you look upon all things,
Listen close to the sunrise song.
Take joy in the song that it sings
Of the One to whom we belong.

And if you listen very well
I'm sure that you shall see,
In the brightness of His light,
The One who died for me.

Did you hear the sunrise this morning?
Did you hear every sound?
Just listen to the songs of nature,
To hear what God expounds.
WOW! I have been really busy. I have been writing so much lately that my hands are beginning to cramp up on me way too much. I now wear my braces day and night. They do help. I take them off when I go to the pool. The water is so good for all my achey body parts. The hot tub is the best.

Well, it's time to get to work now. These stories won't write themselves.


P.S. BTW, I was thinking about posting one that needs a lot of work to see if anyone would like to give some suggestions. I haven't made up my mind about that yet. We'll see.
I am currently working on new materials. I will post again as soon as possible.