Om Prakash John Gilmore
Bio
John (Om Prakash) Gilmore, is a Retired Unitarian Universalist Minister, a Licensed Massage Therapist and Reiki Master Teacher, and a student and teacher of Tai-Chi, Qigong, and Nada Yoga. Om Prakash loves reading sci-fi and fantasy.
Stories (113)
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She Told Me About Her Planet
“You know Maryland is a nut,” Tom said, smile playing across his lips. His red hair and ruddy complexion made his whole face light up. I shook my head. “She tells you some crazy stories, sometimes,” he continued. “All the time.”
By Om Prakash John Gilmore4 years ago in Futurism
We Wanted Adventure
The snow was falling, again. Seems that all it ever did on this planet was snow. I don’t know how I got talked into this human experiment. I guess I wanted adventure. I wanted to see unknown places and visit distant planets. When they opened up the Space Force in the early 21st Century I was delighted. I was still in high school. I began to take all kinds of courses in science and mathematics. I went to college and majored in mechanical engineering.
By Om Prakash John Gilmore4 years ago in Futurism
A Permanent Home For a Weary Traveler
For the first time in years I could relax. Living in space is harder than most people think. Living in ships with cramped quarters is no fun, especially if you’re sharing your space with someone who is obnoxious, or who snores so loud they cause the bunks to vibrate, or if you snore that loud. There’s very little to do other than the work of keeping the ship clean and functioning, which isn’t that difficult, so you find yourself trying to fill up your empty time with a lot of useless chatter, or by meditating, or working out. What kind of life is that?
By Om Prakash John Gilmore4 years ago in Families
She Turned And Walked Away
Another scowling face glaring at me. “Take a picture, Annie. It might last longer,” I said. She brushed the dark hair from her face and just stood there for a moment. I waited for the explosion. It didn’t come, surprisingly. Someone must have reprogrammed her since the last time I saw her.
By Om Prakash John Gilmore4 years ago in Futurism
Watch The Door Stewart, Don't Watch Me
“It’s finally quiet. Put down your rifles,” Kelly said. She lowered her gun, looked at me, and smiled. She looked young to be a captain, with strange colored hair dyed like a rainbow and cut in what would have been considered a punk style long ago, in the 80s and 1900s. She was slim in her tight, black battle suit only marked with emblems, pins, and the equivalent of tattoos that attested to how long she had been at battle with the invaders. She looked at me looking at her and frowned, again. I looked away.
By Om Prakash John Gilmore4 years ago in Futurism
Implant in a Brisk White Lab-coat
I looked up and saw her face again. Who was this strange woman I saw every time I closed my eyes? I looked out the window as stars streaked by and put my hand on the dura steel glass. It felt cold. For a few moments I wondered how it would feel if it shattered and all of us to be sucked out into the iceness of space. It made me shiver. What were we doing out here? We didn’t belong here any more than we belonged living at the bottom of oceans and lakes, but here we were.
By Om Prakash John Gilmore4 years ago in Futurism
Visiting Ricketts Glen
It almost seemed like another state, or maybe even another country. I've lived in PA most of my life but never spent much time in the small towns. As a project I began to visit many of the small towns and explore the natural resources there and life in general. This led me to Ricketts Glen, a very large park in Central PA near Bern PA. Bern PA? Where is that? Somewhere out there near Wilkes-Barre, Hazleton, and Tamaqua.
By Om Prakash John Gilmore4 years ago in Wander
The Inner Silence
By John W. Gilmore Time had passed. Sheila and I were in a small lab located in a dome in one of the many gardens, working on the cultivation of new plants that would produce more fruit and seeds. By that time I didn’t have to speak anymore, I could simply send telepathic messages. The amazing thing about that type of communication was that one could communicate with anyone from any distance. All that was needed was for them to have the ability to pick it up and hear it.
By Om Prakash John Gilmore4 years ago in Fiction
The Inner Silence:
I was getting a little uncomfortable holding this woman's hand. It felt like some type of warm energy was flowing into me. It began to feel good, and I didn’t like that. I didn’t like feeling good. I looked at her face. She turned her face toward me and scowled.
By Om Prakash John Gilmore4 years ago in Fiction
