Closing Down

written by Alison, site manager, regular columnist, thankful friend

If you haven't noticed from the profound lack of any postings recently, Verita is slowing down. Next Sunday, May 27th, it will be shut down.

It's been a fantastic few years and I've been blessed to run "the show" and read and recruit writers that write such inspiring and varied posts but I simply don't have the time to run this blog properly anymore. Almost all the writers have their own blogs/websites where they will still be writing so if you're going to miss any particular column, I suggest you look in the "Our Writers" page in the next week and find a way to keep up with the writer you're interested in.

If you have any questions - please feel free to ask me. Thank you so much for reading! 

Fanciful Photos - Travel...Escape

written by Claire, regular columnist 

Travel

by krazykrayons

The war was over.  Bells rang from church towers and tearful citizens celebrated in the streets, but a single boy hung back from the fray.  Pressed against the wall, he watched the celebrations in silence.  The war had snatched from him his father and his brother, and the fever had claimed his mother long ago.  He had no one to celebrate with, no one to laugh with, to hold.  The future held nothing for him.  

After watching for several minutes, he turned away, bitter at the happiness of the crowd.  Angrily, he strode down to the wharf where the rich celebrated on yachts, drinking champagne and wasting precious electricity.  He had nothing but the clothes on his back that he had worn for the past three years.  Creeping silently below the pier, he found the small boat moored by a piece of twine.  He had stolen the boat years ago, and since then it had become a second home.  Now it would become his only home.  

He yanked at the twine as he clambered into the boat, then deftly cast off with a long pole.  He cared nothing for the people he was leaving behind—they had cared nothing for him, why should he treat their memories any better?  He had no plan, no food, just the desperate ache to flee as he pushed his way into the wide, sparkling expanse of the water.  Here there was no one to cast him a pitying look or a leering grin.  It was just him and the water and the sky above—future his for the taking.  

Fanciful Photos - Three Feelings More Than Us

written by Claire, regular columnist


Three Feelings More Than Us by Rona Keller

“I want words,” said the girl to the smith.  

“Words are hard to come by these days,” he replied.  “But I’ll see what I can do for you.”  He dug around in the depths of his shop for a while as the girl watched, clouds of dust settling on her shoulders.  Finally he found what he was looking for.  “Are you absolutely sure this is what you want?” he asked, holding a thick glove with small black markings on it.  

The girl looked closely at the glove.  The black marks seemed to flicker and move like the flames hiding within charcoal.  “Yes,” she replied quietly.  “This is it.”

“It’ll cost you a pretty penny—”

“It doesn’t matter,” she interrupted him.  “Just give me the words.”

The smith pulled the glove onto his hand and immediately the words sprang into life.  They dashed around his hand like ants after you’ve stepped on their hill.  “All right now, close your eyes.”

The smith touched his hand to the girl’s face and instantly the words leaped from his fingertips and soaked into the girl’s skin.  Each would blaze up for a second before vanishing, bringing with it knowledge and eloquence that few people had nowadays.  Faster and faster the words leaped from the glove to the girl’s face, shining and fading in a matter of seconds.  

Finally the glove was empty, but the girl was full.  Incredible new thoughts coursed through her mind, each more exciting than the last.  Now she could get out of this hellhole and actually do something with her life—but what?

The world lay before her feet, waiting for her to take the first step.  She barely remembered to pay the wordsmith before leaping off into the night, cup running over with fresh thoughts and new beginnings.

Ruby's Reflections - Life in the "in-between" moments

written by Ruby, regular columnist


But if we learn to think of it as anticipation, as learning, as growing, if we think of the time we spend waiting for the big things of life as an opportunity instead of a passing of time, what wonderful horizons open out!
- Anna Neagle

There are always the in-between moments.  The pauses where you are waiting for something to happen.  And you wait… and wait… and it seems like your entire life is spent up in waiting for something that lasts a week, a day, or maybe even a few minutes.  And you wait again for something else.  But the waiting is the important part.  In the journey of life it's important not to only do the big things well, but to know how to wait patiently.  Part of this is recognizing that if something hasn't come up yet, whether it's a competition or a job or a school or marriage, the lull between the storm counts too.  Embrace the rest.  See what you can learn from the pause.  I'm not saying I'm good at it—in fact, I think that I am writing about it to remind myself because it's particularly difficult right now.  I want to grow and stretch too, and not just while the big, challenging things are happening.  Small things challenge you too—and small worlds open in these pauses.  Dietrich Bonhoeffer described it as the "miraculousness of the day." It is what you're not expecting.  Embrace it, because when you look back, you'll see these small spaces, the quiet moments, and you'll remember them and will see how you used them, and what they taught you.

Pretty in Pink

Pretty in Pink by ladeefair featuring enamel jewelry

Citizens of Humanity highwaisted shorts
$179 - otteny.com

Low kitten heel
$43 - modcloth.com

Enamel jewelry
$15 - topshop.com

Round frame sunglasses
$369 - lagarconne.com

Love Quotes Scarves linen shawl
$95 - calypsostbarth.com

Oasis lace hat
$27 - oasis-stores.com

Ruby's Reflections - Agenda: Grinding America Down

written by Ruby, regular columnist 

Ever wonder why our country seems to be going down the drain? Why it seems like we are slowly being taken control of, but in a weird and indiscernible way? Does it ever seem so confusing that even trying to do the research and figure out who you want to vote for just seems hopeless—because the press and reporters are biased? 

I would recommend this movie.  It's clear, concise, and remarkably true.  Also, terrifying to an extent, once you realize where exactly we as a country are headed.

The key to this movie is to understand that people have used ideas to undermine America's foundation.  They have tweaked the rules a little bit, and have infiltrated everything, but especially education.  The idea is that if they can get their notions and ideology embedded in children, it will help bring about a communistic America.  Things like Feminism and Homosexuality and Cohabitation and Easy Divorce have succeeded in breaking apart families all over the country, and the family was one of America's strongest points at the time of the Constitution.  Slowly we are being taken apart, piece by piece, and rebuilt. 

And if we continue to stay ignorant and confused with what's going on, how can we ever stop it?

(Trailer found here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SH8LkIqu1c8 )

Fanciful Photos - The Other Me

written by Claire, regular columnist 

The Other Me…

by mhd.hamwi

“No, no, no, no, NO!  I am sick and tired of following you around all day, and I REFUSE to cooperate!”

I whirled around, but there was absolutely no one there.  I was completely certain I had heard a voice, but I was on a bike a bit west of the middle of nowhere.  “Um… hello?” I ventured, wondering if I was going insane.  

“Yeah, I’m talking to you!” continued the voice exasperatedly.  “Mr. Pie-in-the-sky, on the bike.”

“Okay, who is talking to me?” I had passed the point of freaking out and was positive I had gone crazy.  

“Look down.  To your right.  More.  No, back left.  Now you’re staring me right in the face.”

 There was nothing there—nothing except my shadow.  “No—no way,” I shrieked.  Yep, shrieked.  “What the heck is happening?”

“What’s happening is you are being talked to by your shadow.  Get over it.  Happens all the time.  But I am so unbelievably fed up with you and your UTTER LACK OF IMAGINATION.  YOU HAVE NO LIFE.  I wasn’t given any choice in being your shadow, was I?  Of course not.  I’m just stuck with you until you kick the bucket.  I’ve shadowed J.S. Bach, for crying out loud, and now I’m stuck following you around for the rest of your life!  I’m sick of it!  You are insolent and rude and—”

By now I had recovered just enough to manage speaking.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about!  This is crazy.  This is absolutely crazy.  I’ve passed out.  That’s it.  I’m dehydrated and I passed out.  No other explanation.”

“Nope, you are staring reality in the face, kiddo.  I’ve seen things that would curl even your greasy hair.  I’ve traveled the world, and the ONE SINGLE TIME I overslept on Martin Van Buren’s Vice President, I’m delegated to normal people again.  I mean, who even cares about Vice Presidents anyway?  I have kept completely silent for AGES and I deserve to have a venting session!”  

There was a thunk, and I opened my eyes, blinking in the sunlight.  “Are you okay, young man?” said a blurry woman standing over me.  “You must have passed out.”