"...return"

I attempted a time jump. Error. No readings as to where or when.
The Shimmer,...an island. Heavily gardened. Folks about,...all old.
Including the smiling woman that approached me.

"Bout time you got here."
With a sweep of her hand she said, "...this place is an Elder ARK."

"Folks to 120, and more. Next island over there's a gal 135,...so she sez." She gave a wink. Emma which was is, and will be her name said, 
"The ARKS are islands of Age around the world."

"We gather by choice. We're flesh, and blood rememberers.
 Preservers of what was. Nurturers of what will yet be."

"This ARK is off the west coast of the former USA. She looked me dead on, "...A lot of changes Uncle"

My unit went to reboot.  I said I was headed to 1947.
She laughed, "...it ain't going nowhere."
Emma dug my books.

"You finally published. Just in the nick of time too!"
...??!!!
"I especially liked "Land of a Million Operas"
Again,...??!!!

"Most still think your Time Portal tales are fiction. Some knew better."

"Which is why you're here."

"We want to be part of the story"

I spent a day a night, and a day in their history. A time of world healing, and renewal. Of hope, and laughter.

I will return to this place.  

This time.

"Wonders"

"And it came to pass that in those dark days Angels

made Signs, and Wonders.

This so those that saw might have Hope."

"Santa loses his Shit"

Sez enraged betrayed Santa!

I'll do you! I'll do the whole rotten lot of you!

You murder babies make the innocent go hungry!

You poison the land the seas the skies.

There is no end too terrible for you!

I know where you live!

I got a list, and fucking checked it twice!

I'm coming! Fucking Santa is coming to town!

Your gated Mansions can't stop me!

Your Blackwater assassins won't even slow me down.

Vengeance!

I'll reek a terrible dark, and final Vengeance!

This on behalf of all the innocents you've butchered.

*

Santa is fucking coming to Town!!!

"Rage"

Things as they are.

I have become Angry.

Very Very Angry.

"Ya Fucking Dummies"

This is my standard retort to any, and all posts I find that are trying to divide progressives. Sow rage, and discourse internally among what passes for liberal progressives in this bleeped up wreck of a republic.

This shit worked like a charm last time.
People are falling for it again.

When seeing a post that Divides Dem Candidates,...Caution:
Again I say caution.
Where did this divisive post originally come from?

What is it's point. Last time the Russians, and others stoked Hillary Hate to divide progressives.
Years later those false posts still have partisans for or against Bernie or Hillary 'still' full of artificially induced rage.

It was profoundly effective.
I've lost we've lost friends over it.

Remember we have a Common Goal.

The web is a battle field, and there are land mines everywhere.
If you find something that appeals too perfectly to your suspicions, and resentments,...it's designed to do just that,... and for negative effect.
Caution.
Think things through we can't afford knee jerk emotional reactions this time. Remember I say again!...we have a common goal. A restoration of actual sanity to our national government.

"...weep my children"

The Dreaded "Kozbohackum".

The Spirit of Christmas Despair.

*

"Weep my Children Weep!"

"Joke"

Satan allowed us to make this civilization. He was feeling generous in a Demonic way that afternoon. So we eventually sent our robots to see that the entire Solar System, and by extension the whole fucking Universe is an airless pile of rocks, and dust.

This is Satan's practical joke on us.

He told Adam, "...Sure I'll let you build great towers, and go to the stars. Yeah it's swell out there. Keep dreaming it you'll make it. 

...Well we did.

Satan Laughs.

"Meanwhile During WW2"

"So as you can see boss,...we're fucked."

Now about that submarine to Argentina you wanted."

"...empires"

I was feeling lonely edgy the Yule stuff can do that. I got my time portal unit out of the fridge. Eh,...it keeps better under 48f. I set it for farthest than I've ever gone. Three thousand years.

5018~CE.

Specifically the Bronx February 26th 11:16am 5018~CE. I figured that part of the former City would be above water. ...it was. There you see the ancient subway exit of the #2 IRT line. The 241st Street/Wakefield Avenue stop.

I climbed the overgrown stone stairway to an open air of wilderness. What was still of the city was engulfed in semi-tropical rain forest. Much as the Inca cities were before it. Though late winter it was very warm, and humid. Giant dragonflies flew above.

No trace of people as far as I could see.

Though they may be further inland. 3k years is long enough for a successor culture to take root,...I hope. However New York the portions above the deeper ocean is home to insects, and small mammals.

I sat on a moss covered log, and read my emails.

Oh how brief are empires.

"A Simple Yule Story"

(A mid-shipman Pip Christmas story for my friends, especially "Z". I make a cameo as his "Uncle'. The first stave of Pip's adventures is below this one. You may wish to start there.  
...also there's been a bit of time travel in these few lines. As Pip, and his ship are from 1904, and this story takes place in 2032. ...shit happens.)

The HMS Agamemnon ported at the isle of Turquoise Christmas eve. There was snow on the ground, and the winds were brisk. Passersby greeted one another heartfully. The spirit of Yule was well about.

As Dickens wrote. 

"Christmas is that one time in the rolling year when men, and woman from all circumstance open their shut up hearts to the world."

Young Pip on liberty walked up Algernon Hill. This to his Uncle's shop of "Bewildered Amazements".  All prices negotiable.  Pip banged the brass knocker whose shape changed as the wind blew against it. There opened was his dear Uncle.

Pip's old kindly generous often befuddled by the world "Uncle".

Surprised, and bearing a broad smile Uncle said, "...Pip! Ah! ...and a merry Yule to you. Come in child! '...in in in from the cold!"

"Hi Uncle!" Piped Pip his round glasses fogging from the warmth of the shop. Uncle,..."Aw bless you child. How happy I am to see you."

Laughter smiles, and ironic jibes followed. 

"Cider! we must have cider" happily bellowed uncle.  Pip, "...yes it was so cold coming up your hill." Uncle's apprentice Toby poking his head from a side door, "....Hey Pip",..."Hey Toby!

"Cider, and buttered buns!" said uncle.

Cider indeed! We need some Toby magic. Hot Christmas cider minted as only you can! "I'm on it" said Toby disappearing into the heart of this magical yet user friendly shop.

About time travel. 

Pip often brings items from the past for uncle's inspection. This is how he gets so many bewilderments for the shop. More in another story.

Old uncle took Pip's tunic, and gratefully accepted various items from Pip's century. They sat by the fireplace where they spoke of seas, and  ships cabbages, and kings madmen, and poets.

Then came Toby with three very large drafts of Minted Christmas Cider! All three souls sat together warm, and cozy as they sipped laughed burped, and laughed again.

Happy they were. 

Happy in each other's company. Happy with the world.  

Happy as they blessed all in it.

A Happy Yule to all.

"Pip at Sea"

'Being the Journal of Mid-Shipman Jamie Pip. Royal Navy Cadet.

HMS Foretina, May 12th, 1903

I stood "Bow Watch" from quarter noon till sundown. Observed, and reported a French steamer on the starboard horizon. Post noon a Spanish Ironclad "Man 'o War" crossed us heading east then turned true north.

Twin rainbows sighted 12 degrees to port. A great storm has skirted us.

...for now.

Most enchanting however at dusk a Pod of Blue Whales rode our bow break. How graceful they glided as they sang to each other.

************************************************

HMS Foretina, May 14th 1903

17 degrees N/NW of the Isle San Angelica de Isabella. 

It is a full Moon this night, and the North Star is to port. Orion with his three sisters drifts in the sky at our windward. 

The Foretina sings.

At night she sings. From her rigging's sails boards comes music. Her timbers groan her bow a soft choir, and oh how cleanly she cleaves the sea.

The ships bell chimes as a call to prayer.

**********************************************

HMS Foretina May 17th, 1903

A new lad came aboard by launch from the port of Isabella. His name is Aliabad Wellington. He is kindly in disposition, and comely in appearance.

A "Black 'a Moor" he is, and poetic in his speech.

I though a Jew shall be so forward as to befriend him. Perhaps he will smile upon me if I gift him my slim though precious volume of Sufi poems, and prayers.

**********************************************

The 21st of May 1903,

9 degrees E/NE of Saint George's Atoll.

The a fore mentioned gales have caught up with us! We suffer within her sharp teeth! The Captain has ordered we sail into the wind. Waves lash the decks The sea looms over us. Fish rain down as "Manna".

Cook says, "...if we ain't pulled to the bottom we'll eat well this night!"

So fearful yet beautiful is this.

The sky a blur of color, Bright arcs of lightning dance on every horizon. The sea illuminated the masts ignited by "Saint Elmo's Fire!"

The bow digs deep yet rises again the rigging makes her strange music. The good "Foretina" yaws hard to port then starboard then again even more deeply.

The eyes of the younger Cadets are wide with terror yet wonder too. So it was for a night, and a day.

Fading drifting sand in a gentle wind...

A dream,...how... why.....the ship the storm Aliabad faded slowly...vanished.

Even myself...gone.

************************************************

I'm reading a book. One made of linen. It's pages it's leaves flutter in the breeze. It speaks to me this linen book. Telling not only the written story within, but how it came to be.

How it was cut sewn stitched. How the words were so slowly, and carefully threaded together.

This book of cloth told me of it's inner life. About the lives the ways of all the books like her.

Then gone.

...like the "Foretina" gone.

*******************************************

I enter another world in mid-sentence.

Friends. Three women friends of which I am one. In dreams you live whole lives in moments. I entered a world with life long friends about me.

I yearned to tell the 'secret' my great, and terrible secret. What for them was a lifetime was for me a moments fancy as I lay asleep in another world.

We sat, and laughed at the folly of the world. A world I was about to leave. Leave, and forget. This world, and my 'momentary' friends will vanish.

Leaving not even dust.

********************************************

I awaken with the fragments of lives on the tip of my tongue. Fragments which as the moments passed melt away to nothing.

"...Wretched"

I read #45 is in his private quarters fuming tweeting rage, and resentment to the world,...on Christmas Eve. As Dicken said of Scrooge in A Christmas Carol. This in words put to the character Fan's lips. 
On hearing of Scrooge in his counting house fingering coins by a single candle she said,... 

"Poor wretched man. Alone. All alone in the whole world."