Mister Time (born Jerald Murphy), later became Minister Time is a fiction American Christian leader, minister, and human rights activist. He seems important to many people in the Christian movement. Mister Time got his nickname Time because he seemed so far ahead of everyone else. He speaks of the things that sound like the future, but the world around him can't see that he speaks of the present. When Time was a child, he had a very high IQ. He grew up very intelligent and never had many friends. Time was the only child and claimed his cousins as his sisters and brothers. He grew up on the bad side of what is called Flip City. To raise him well, his mother and father took him to church and moved to a better neighborhood on the country side. After high school, Mister Time began to speak and teach around the world. He poured his heart out to those that needed help. Time took a few college classes to further his education. From then on, he became a Christian leader, minister, & activist. Listen to the Podcast the Tale of DJ Flip https://www.spreaker.com/show/the-tale-of-dj-flip

Video by: Gail Nobles To see the full short video of the character Sphinx Bazel, go to https://open.spotify.com/episode/1t6kAtrufXfN9SbPAzc9xV?si=gj7iOHd8RP6J2WL1kAXxDw See him underwater.

They say that our experiences is the mirror of our knowledge. We all have stories to tell, stories that make us feel proud, stories that reveal our bad past and how we managed to change it. We can experience every kind of stories we hear, and the knowledge we spread is pretty much affected by all those experiences we have had in our lives. We learn, we make mistakes, we help others and we even destroy others. But we also forget. We forget some experiences we have had, some worlds we have lived in, some passions we have felt. Those are our unwritten stories. The stories we never wrote down to remember and recount them... or the stories we once decided to erase. The day I started writing was a great day for me, it was the beggining of my unique story. A story that helped me create a great bond with something few people recognise. Writing helps me stare at myself like a usual mirror does, but this mirror doesn't reveal my face, but my inner self- even some of the hidden thoughts and emotions of mine that nor me nor anyone else recognises. In the old days, I only used to look at mirrors just to check if my hair looks good or if my clothes are a good pair. Now, things are more complicated. I can now look at myself and recognise all those actions in the past that piece by piece created the present me. Although it sounds nice, there are times when I feel this "power" being an unecessery burden. It reveals memories of the past, memories that were nicely closed up in deepest shadows of my memory. And then, when i open those chests, I remember tales of mine I left unwritten. Tales and stories. Some of which I avoided to absorb their lesson, and some which I never wished to think about again. Nonetheless, after all this time, I feel a special sympathy for those stories. And I'm not referring only to my own forgotten stories. But to all those stories each of us has locked inside a forgotten chest of his memory, while they could be in the edge of their mouth as recounting them to others. Those stories, and every single experience in our life, has its own unique gifts to offer. But since we decided to forget them, they are all gone and missing. However, even though I consider some memories forgotten and lost inside my mind's shadows, there are moments were I speak out words forged by knowledge and experiences that I never remember my self wielding. Isn't that wonderful? Isn't that unique? Those memories are hidden inside us, and even though we have placed them aside and forgot them, they are always there to spare their wisdom when needed. Sometimes, we might think that we are just recounting to people our life's great story or a unique experience of ours, but this great story will always be accompanied by other suplamentary stories that slipped away from our attention, but they continue offering us their wisdom and the knowledge to forge our own experiences and lessons in life. Yet, we don't remember those stories, but only the great ones. There are times I can imagine myself unlocking some forgotten chests in my memory to reveal their content, but it is usually rotten and half-left. "You came back too late", I remind myself in these situations, so that one day I will be able to apreciate every single of my memories and keep them in my memory. I'll make the decision to travel in time, and visit an old castle which is now nothing but ruins. It was probably raided by an army and people wrote stories for this war, or maybe it was just forgetten and Death took it by his side as if it is an old man. I walk inside, I can imagine the people walking here and there to complete their daily tasks. I see some elves and sorcerers! Maybe it was a castle of another world. "Excuse me there boy, where do I park my dragon?", I heard an old man saying. "In the dragon stable, sir", the boy replied. In the market there was this sorcerer buying his potions, while the knight sharpened his sword to fight the next monster. The princess would be the prize. So many tales in just a few moments. Those small moments were the ones to forge this great castle piece by piece, and without them there would be no great battle to be written in books. Yet, those small moments are all forgetten since the castle has been ruins. All you see now is ashes, cracked stones and... a light, a hope. The water in the creeks begins to glow thanks to the sun's rays that come through the broken windows. And then, you see some shadows, I swear they were dancing some wonderful, distinct dance, like those creatures in the castle centuries ago, as if they have never been forgotten.

I remember when I was a child – when I had wide eyes and wore white. I remember trying to capture butterflies as I twirled and danced my way through the flowers. I remember the scent of blossoms, and mildew, and the smell of dusk and taste of dawn. The warm embrace of sunshine cocooned me as I echoed my laughter throughout a world that opened its arms and caught me when I fell. Today, I can now reach the top shelf and think for myself. Cracked eyes leak wisdom, and hands shake with effort. I see you and the world. I see it broken as it is – destroyed and decaying as humans run across it like ants. The stars glitter through white smog, and a single hand can count the trees. The pavement grazes my knees when I fall, and no one's words mean more than a shallow step to get ahead in the game of life. I realise as I have grown older that age is just an allusion; adults' bicker like kids, and when they shout, they don't get reprimanded. An adult is only trying to survive and look alive in a society that aims to tear each other down. Growing up is not a matter of age, but rather a matter of perception. Adults pull roots from the soil, destroy homes to build factories, dump garbage in seas, and murder animals for the chase of the kill. Today the world is broken, and no one (not even the grown-ups) knows how to fix it. I remember the exact moment when I became a woman and no longer a girl. I was 13. I recall looking around and realising how destroyed everyone was: how people held up masks, played charades, fought in a game that only they were playing. At that moment, it was decided that a grand gesture was needed – something to force Earth back on its' axis. Things needed to be cared for, and others made to feel like they mattered. I aspired to make reality feel like a fairy tale. My heart only knows how we grew up believing in things made of wisps of words and imagination; a princess, dragons, a knight, and mermaids splashed deep beneath the sea. The real demons were the ones under our beds, not the ones in our heads nor lurking the streets. Are we all drugged? We have all cheated, lied, or stolen; committed a crime that is better if forgotten. In the end, are we our enemy? I know the only battle I am fighting is with myself. Still, I yearn for when I used to believe in a world filled with fair-folk and folklore; a world where saying hello to strangers on the street was okay. I did not know that by today, I would be shattered like glass sprawled in pieces across the floor. I know now that the world only makes sense when examined in parts. I am searching for something blind. What I know is that I want to live, to be alive, and to no longer survive - to be free in a world that follows strict sunrise and sunset. I need to feel the grass beneath my feet and the wind blowing in my hair like a summer breeze. I wish to return to the world of make-belief. I mourn for whispered words, lullabies, and fables. The sunshine is shrouded, and the acid rain falls; darkness has bled into my veins. Now flowers bloom with poison, and the butterflies have flown away. My dress is red, my steps stilted, and only the scent of decay persists. The land I once knew no longer exists, and I refuse this new one that has swallowed me whole. Instead, I squeeze my eyes shut until the horrors of today leak from my head. Please, I dream of sanity. To be insane in a mad world, now that isn't of myths and fairy-tales.

The Princess & The Guy She Thought Was A Prince When I was a little girl I thought the world of my dad. I thought he was the best. He told me I was a princess, and that one day I'd meet a prince. And I believed him. Then I was in middle school and going through puberty I fell in love with a boy named Robbie. I thought he was my prince, and we were going to be married and high school sweethearts. Then I found out what a cheater is. I didn't date him. I don't even think he knew I existed, but when I told my best friend Taylor that I had a crush on him she filled me on his character. She said he was her boyfriend once upon a time, and that he cheated on her by kissing another girl! I wanted to stop liking him right then and there. I wanted to be that strong female character that didn't need to be in love, or have a boyfriend to feel important. Later after much heartbreak, I'd become her, but at the time I still wanted to be Robbie's girlfriend. So the next year when we had classes together, and the year after when we were still in some of the same classes I swooned over him day and night. Eventually, by what seemed like a miracle we got each other's numbers. I stayed up late into the night texting him and proclaiming my love for him. He had a girlfriend though. He told me he wasn't going to break up with her. When I found out I stopped texting him for a while, but then we just started our romantic texting affair up again. To be so young and in love, it's hard to say no to desire and what could be. From the age 12-16, I spent endless nights describing to Robbi how our lives would be if we 're together. But he never told me he loved me, and he told me his mother would never let him be with someone like me. Then as fate would have it I was getting ready for a school dance at my hairdressers. She asked me what lucky guy was taking me and I said, nobody. She asked me if there was anyone on my mind that I might hope would ask me to dance. In the back of my head, the only name I could think of was, “Robbi.” I said his name out loud. His full name. It felt so good to be able to say his name since for so long I felt I had to keep my feelings secret. Taylor had already stopped talking to me by now because of my persistent pursuit to be with him. Everyone who knew about our seemingly secret of texting each other over the years told me not to pursue him. Even guys I thought were Robbie's friends told he wasn't worth it… Anyways, I told my hairdresser and she enlightened me on basically why he was never going to be the man I wanted. Why he was never going to proclaim his love for me. She told me the story of his mother and father. You see Robbie's parents were divorced. I knew this already, but I never knew why. Once upon a time Robbie's mother and father were school sweethearts. His mother wasn't the overweight women who said didn't want us together. Once she was skinny and one of the most sought after girls in the school. His father married her, and they had twins. Robbie and his sister Elena. Then they had his other sister. But then something awful happened. Robbie's father cheated on his mother! He then left her and never spent another moment with his children. At this moment something just clicked inside me. All the years of trying to get Robbie to love me, but him telling me his mother would never allow it. All the times he told me had a girlfriend. The times he sent me just looks, but never actually spoke to me in public. It all made sense. He was broken inside. His mother was broken inside too and projecting her fear onto him. And in return, he refused to believe in us. It all made sense. It wasn't the fateful answer sent from the universe and told through the voice of my hairdresser that I wanted to hear, but it was the one I needed to hear. I didn't try to pursue Robbie after that. Many years later we reconnected on Facebook and I still haven't told him why I think he never asked me to be his girlfriend. Instead, we just chatted about how far our lives have come. I have a daughter named Love and he's off being a drummer in bands and traveling the world. He's had a lot of chances to declare his love for me, but I don't think he ever was in love with me, to be honest, and I don't think he ever will be. I have someone in my life now he didn't waste one second and still doesn't telling me how much he loves me every single day. He loves my daughter, and he can't wait to be married to me. I know I was young then and so was Robbie, but if he hasn't figured out how great I am by now he never will. And for that reason alone I'm glad we never dated and were not fated for each other forever. I'm at peace knowing that I'm loved and respected every single day. I wish him the best and anyone who finds themselves temporarily attached to him. This story is for all women and young women out there who have loved and lost. For it's better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. The End

Are you a dreamer? Can you put all your dreams into a single life and make them come true? There are far away dreams, like stars in the sky, but in the world of literature everything is possible. We can live thousands of lives in thousands of places and there is no such a power in the whole world that would be able to resist blue sky thinking. The secret of eternal youth is hidden in books. If you are ready to try out a deliciousness of imagination, stay with me and I will treat you to my fantasy. \nLet us start with the first course, which is fairy tales. I have chosen this one, as the first fantasy children are treated to. \\"Twelve month\\",\\"The Swan Princess\\", as well as Disney's \\"Snow White and the seven Dwarfs\\", and \\"The Sleeping Beauty\\" were my first experiences of fantasy. Through fairy tales children get in touch with the real world. Magic had a taste of hot chocolate and was as natural and real as bedtime stories. \nNext, try out the main course and the most important one. When we are young, life is varied in its treats, but you want to be careful, when you reach out your hand to take it, you can get chocolate or marmalade, but then you could also get the flavor of rotten eggs or bitterness; life is not all sweet. Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans is known as tricky sweets, but Harry Potter tasted them when he was eleven. The teenage time is a period, when we have no time to hesitate, no time to choose and just enjoy life with all its treats; it is a time to shine! Did you face \u2018dementors' and \u2018boggarts'? They take us aback, while we are trying out life. They are our despair and our fears; thanks to a defense against the dark arts I have fought them and now I keep living and do magic. My wand is my backbone. It is something you could not buy even in the \u2018Diagon Alley', it is an inborn gift, to do magic and it is important to remember, that all of us are \u2018wizards'. Thanks to \u2018Harry Potter' I have learned how to handle the wand since the age of eleven. \nWhat do you want to drink: tea, coffee, or the Universe? The Hatter and his company hold an endless tea party, while the time lord is travelling through time and space, but he always has time to have some tea. How do we use our time? Have you ever thought about it? Imagine all time and space in a cup of tea. No matter how much you have drunk, your cup is full. The opposite situation, when your cup is half-empty, but you have not even taken a gulp yet. These are the examples of how we are in charge of our time: we can plan or we can act. If you just flap you jaw, like Hatter's company you will drop the ball, and not touch the heights of your dream, you must run through your plans and then all the time and space will be at your service. When I was eighteen I tasted the Universe. \nDo you like spices? Any insipid course in our life needs to be dressed with spice. The lack of spices is the lack of emotions. Would you like to live through your previous day? If you are thinking about your day with distaste, it is time to experiment. What kind of taste has your life? I have been experimenting with the menu during my literature experience, so let me tell you what kind of cuisine the fantasy is. The battlefields pouring with dragon flame, the princess with skin of a frog, The Great Sept of Baelor stuffed with wild fire, enemies chopped by the Excalibur are the ingredients of a fantasy meal. If you feel like your life is missing \u2018spices', approach Terry Pratchett, Stephen King, George R.R. Martin, J. R. R. Tolkien, Lewis Carroll or Robert Louis Stevenson, to taste fantasy cuisine.