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firewoodfigs · 3 years

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(long post, but I’m gonna try and make journalling a thing in 2021 😆)

The first day of the new year was nice. :) I woke up to the sounds of rain crashing against my windowsills - a strangely chilly morning in this tropical country where it’s summer all year round. For a moment it felt like I was back in Canada again, all cloudy grey skies and whimsical rain - the perfect weather for introspection.

I started my day with a pot of hot green tea, then settled down by my reading lamp to finish a book that I’ve been putting off for far too long - Steinbeck’s East of Eden. I only had about forty pages left, but somehow couldn’t bring myself to finish it. I hate when books end because it feels like that little world I’ve created and compartmentalised in my head has likewise ceased, but the good thing about books is that you can always re-read them and immerse yourself in the same fantasy. (Maybe even a different one, if the same words lend themselves to a different interpretation!) But it truly was an absolute masterpiece: such a stunning, intricate exploration of humanity that tugged at my heartstrings and led me into still waters of reflection. I know that I will definitely carry this tale in my heart for a long, long time to come.

Afterwards, I had some instant ramen while watching The Queen’s Gambit. I’m not a big fan of watching shows usually because I often feel like they move too slowly or tend to miss details from the book, but this one is pretty exceptional. Like, the acting and the artistic direction are incredible - the constant juxtaposition between Beth’s traumatic past and her glorified present, and the exploration of the fallibility of genius were executed so brilliantly. Another thing that really stood out to me were the scenes where she’d hole herself in the toilet and rebuke herself aloud for weaknesses in her play and/or being weak, in general. I cannot begin to explain how many times I’ve done that to myself in law school for even the most trivial of infractions, the most minor of errors - Lord knows I’m my harshest critic.

I promised to try, however, to be a little bit kinder to myself in 2021. My perfectionism tends to be a bar to goodness and growth because sometimes I get so afraid that my subconscious keeps demanding that my first draft has to be perfect. But it really doesn’t. That’s what editing is for. And writing, like any other talents and passions, requires nurturing and constant practice. I saw a quote yesterday about how we cannot just sit around and magically expect to be Faulkners overnight, and that is so true. I definitely need to find a sweet spot where I’m not berating myself to the point of giving up, but still demand growth so that I can keep bettering myself.

In the evening I headed out to a friend’s for tacos, which were an absolute delight in itself. And then my bf and I got to walk his dog, who I am convinced is the most precious thing in the entire universe - maybe even more so than my bf himself (I kid... or maybe not) - and who is just such a gentle-natured darling. It began to drizzle, so she led us home and we spent the rest of the night playing Sherlock and Among Us with the rest. :) It was a very peaceful evening. For a moment I’d forgotten all about the fact that I start work next Monday and was simply content to bask in the Christmas lights, the heavy downpour and the anomalous chill that came along with it. Just... living in the present, enjoying the moment.

Now that’s definitely something else on my to-do list for 2020 as well. So often the beauty of the present tends to be marred by my worries and anxieties of the future, but I always remind myself of this quote from Scripture: “Which one of you, by worrying, can add another day to his life?” And when I look back at my life and all the times I’ve worried and fretted and cried, feeling like there was no way for us to extricate ourselves from this rut, this perennial cycle of debt and other things that have plagued me from birth, I am also reminded of God’s grace and providence that has brought me through so, so much. It would’ve been impossible to have done all of this by myself; I frankly might not have had the will to continue living if not for those things.

Talking about my lived experiences also ties in to the last part of my day - where I thought about how exclusive and inaccessible the poetry scene here feels. You would think otherwise, in a country of no more than 5-6 million folks, but no. I was ranting about this a little to my boyfriend: how it feels like a lot of the spaces within are reserved for the elites of society with silver spoons in their mouths and golden plates on their tables offering them anything they wanted while I was struggling to put food on the table at fourteen. Sometimes I also lament the fact that I didn’t have my parents to tell me bedtime stories, to encourage me to read and cultivate my vocabulary. Perhaps it’s jealousy, or inferiority, or a mix of both.

But my boyfriend, ever wise and supportive, offered me a different perspective. He made a fair point about how I still fell in love with books and writing regardless, and how literature is oftentimes only a harbour that the privileged visit because the marginalised, the poor are too busy working for basic necessities to even think about such things. To the ordinary blue-collar layperson, poetry is just frankly a frivolous sentiment that won’t turn itself into gold. I agree with this wholeheartedly. It’s one of the reasons why I always felt like I didn’t have time to write, and one of the reasons why my first job was at a library (so I could read as much as I wanted! For free!). Then he said, “But see, no one wants to read about the rich waxing poetic about how lovely and grand their sunny little island is. But people will want to read about your perspective - your poems of the brokenhearted clinging on desperately to their inner child, your poems about the poor working to make ends’ meet, your poems about your tangible struggles - all of those will resonate with the masses, for sure.” And I was like, well, that’s fair. But I certainly don’t express myself as eloquently as these people do. Next to them I’m like an uncultured swine who can’t even tell the difference between all the different forks splayed on the table.

His response was that people need to understand these things before appreciating them, and sometimes simplicity works best - a lesson that’s been drilled into us from the very inception of law school. And I was like, okay, fair, but deep down my heart was exploding with the sheer warmth of having someone so incredibly supportive of everything I do, even if it’s worthless in society’s eyes. I remember one night when I was telling him about how, as a twelve-year-old, I had a dream to one day study Literature at Yale. I would hole myself up in the library after school, feverishly flipping through books to expand my imaginations and horizons, my mental dictionary of words, dreaming about the day where I could escape all of this and dwell in nothing but imaginative worlds one day. Where reality failed me, I knew that I could always count on my imagination to transport me to somewhere safe and special, filled with joy and sorrow and tragedy and hope.

I ended up studying law. Not a bad thing, because as stressful as it was I really did enjoy the things I’ve learnt - international and constitutional law, especially - and it has certainly given me new, mature perspectives on so many things; taught me to argue with reason and objectivity instead of just emotion and passion and has led me to meet so many wonderful (also trashy, but I’m out of this hellhole) people. I just don’t like the fact that 80-hour work weeks are the norm and that there’s always so much to... read. If you gave me a piece of fiction I could happily indulge in it for hours, but sometimes judgments can be so ridiculously mundane to read, especially if they’re just itemising every single case on illegality from the 19th century. Lord knows I need at least two cups of coffee for that. Black, to be specific.

Anyway, I digress (as I always do lmao). My bf ended up researching all night until he stumbled across this Literature programme at Harvard - which frankly sounds amazing, but also unattainable. Which was what I said. And he was like, “Do I think it’s impossible? No. I think you have a very compelling life story, and you’re full of amazing stories within you to tell. And if you want to do it, I will support you wholeheartedly.”

Again, as is usually the case, I had nothing left to offer apart from muted sobs under my blanket. It still sounds absurd to me - unthinkable, even - but I am just so, so grateful to have someone like him support me through everything. Literally everything. This is the man who has spent hours tutoring me in the subjects that I was hopeless in in first year, because I was too busy tutoring random folks in economics and geography and catching up on sleep (in class, no less), who has patiently helped me prepare for every single mooting competition and watched every single one of them, who has seen me cry and admonish myself for being a failure (only to spend hours trying to convince me otherwise), who has celebrated every single one of my victories and losses - you deserve a treat, anyway! Let’s go eat something nice and put it behind us, for now! This is the same man who has so much passion for what he does, who is so darn good at it without even realising that he is (I wept when he won a mooting competition this year because I was so proud of and happy for him), and who inspires confidence and compassion in me every day.

I am grateful to share all our triumphs and tribulations together, and I look forward to starting a new chapter in life with you. :)

#this was a very long shitpost but if u made it to the end kudos to u!!! HAHAHAHA #also a rainy morning again so I am in the mood to ramble oops :')#might have spiralled outta control hehe #sorry to any1 who follows me for fma content LMAO #haven't been posting much fma content but I promise there is smt coming this weekend #maybe a new update of memento amare...#me being all dramatic: IT IS FINISHED *presses enter key with a flourish*

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goodvibesatpeace · 5 years

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Astrology: Finding Happiness

Aries: Know Who you Are

Aries rules our face, our heads, our identity. Without a strong purpose or identity in life, an Aries may not be happy. Ruled by the planet Mars, Aries is our natural leader; they are the fighters, they are the rebels changing the rules.

I can’t help to think of Billy Idol’s Rebel Yell video, when I think of an Aries. They need a Cause, a Purpose, and they need to understand who they are. Quiet your mind Aries.. look deep within. Silently ask yourself “who am I?” and wait for the picture to come alive.

Once you focus on what you want, keep that fire burning behind it, you’ll get it.. and your looks will help too.

Taurus: Strong Self-Worth

Through Taurus, we understand what we value the most. Without a strong Self-worth, a Taurus may not be happy. Ruled by the planet Venus, our Goddess of Love, and the finer things in life, she is the manifesto for all these things, including our own personal finances.

Once a Taurus can communicate what he/she needs clearly through the part of the body they rule, which is the throat, they will become stronger, and instantly get what they deserve. They are the true Manifestoes.

I am reminded of the Fairy God-mother from Cinderella; all you need to do is wave that wand, and see the picture of what you want. Make sure it is aligned with your true Values, and bippity-boppity-boo, it will come true.

Gemini: Communicate Freely

A Gemini that is silenced, or repressed in expressing themselves may not be happy. They need the freedom to express their feelings and emotions through the best way they can: Words. Words are Gemini’s best friends.

Mercury is the ruling planet here: the planet that rules our minds, our thoughts, and all forms of Communication. In Gemini, it makes them the natural writers, poets, musicians, and speakers.

I am reminded of George the VI, who wasn’t supposed to be appointed King, and had to overcome his speech impediment. Then, once he had the courage, he became an inspiration to many. We know your dualistic, beautiful-mind has lots to say, and the World is waiting to hear it.

Cancer: Home is Where the Heart Is

A crab without a safe & cozy shell, where they can be themselves, may not be happy. A Home to call your own; a place where your emotions are free to flow with the people surrounding you(immediate-family, spouse, or children), that understand YOU, and will allow you to be just ‘You’.

This is the foundation of Cancer: The Happy- home. Create your sanctuary. You are the most emotional of all signs because you are ruled by the Moon, that controls the Ocean-tides. Resolution with mother/ father, and finding peace with your own upbringing, if there is karmic ties that need to be cleared.

If there are things that need to be said, say them now. I can’t help to think of the Brady Bunch; how two families had to live together in harmony under one roof, and they did because emotions were always talked out.

Leo: Express Yourself Bravely

A Lion without a Pride, may not be happy. A Pride has a purpose, and they look to the King for direction. An audience always needs to be around this gracious, Social- being; they are the Center of attention, ruled by the Sun.

The Sun is the light shining bright through our hearts, like most signs, but especially for Leo’s; they must discover what they love through Creative, self-expression. This usually revolves around overcoming some fear.

I think of Simba from The Lion King, who has a many lessons to learn, and overcome, but in the end, we all knew it was his destiny to rule. Allow your insecurities to fall by the Way-side. Do what you love, and do it with grace and passion. You are the Natural-born star.. its your time to shine.

Virgo: Love Yourself First

A Virgo without a good routine, physically and emotionally, may not be happy. It is not because they lack discipline, or are seen as lazy- quite the contrary. Its because they think of others first. They are the natural-born Givers, and Teachers; they are the Mother Theresas’, and the Gandhis’ of our world.

By giving up their life for others, they may neglect what they must do for themselves. Ruled also by Mercury, you have a naturally-organized mind, a ‘to do” list in your head of 100 things perfectly departmentalized.

Learn to Love yourself first. Focus on you, and then others will follow, and appreciate you more. Your family will understand that you need to workout for 20 mins before breakfast is started, and the dishes will wait without the dust running away. It will all be there for you when you get back.

You’ll feel so much better once you get the YOU routine in order, and STAY on track.

Libra: Balance of Energy

Unhappy relationships equals unhappy life for these loving, Bright-beings. It can be through business, or in personal relationships. A Libra without another person in their life(a close friend, relative, or a significant other) may not be happy.

Ruled by our planet Venus, this is where love and marriage is highlighted. They are the Scales of life; the ones who need to balance their energy the most, to feel alive and in good spirits. Work, social, and personal Time is all crucial to your well-being.

Don’t give too much of yourself to your partner in life, and don’t spend too much time in isolation. Im reminded here of Bridget Jone’s character; focused on her career, but has the support of close friends, and family around to guide her love-life, that is highlighted by a decision of two men.

Can she choose the one who represents her energy the most? Vibes attract your Tribe; stay positive, and do you, and the right people will arrive in your life.

Scorpio: Commit to Your Passion

If a Scorpio is not Passionate about anything in particular in their life they, may not be happy. The sign most associated with Sex, the Mysterious, and the Mystical ones. They are creative beings ruled by not only Mars, but the deep, transformative, icy-planet- Pluto.

The most Powerful sign, they see beyond the surface, and through it all. A Surface-partnership, Project, or Life will just NOT do. They strive on big-business and big-deals. They are not scared to explore the depths of the cold-ocean so many are fearful of.

I think of Martin Scorsese; taking chances of ridicule by bringing us movies like Taxi, Casino & Raging Bull, that explore the darker, aggressive, passionate-side of cinema. Death and transformation, is a big part of these movies, and that is what Scorpio must become comfortable with. The idea of killing a project, ego, or partnerships, to bring to life new people, projects, and a more awakened-self.

Boredom is Death to a Scorpio. Learn to Let Go. Be obsessed with what makes you feel alive. Be in Love with those who connect with you at the deepest level, and Be the Phoenix that rises from the grave, to bring your gifts to light.

Sagittarius: Keep Learning

A Sag that is not learning something new, or discovering new lands, may not be happy. You are the Philosophers, the Inventors of the world. You can do anything you put your mind to, and you need to trust yourself enough to Think Big.

Never allow yourself to become complacent. Jupiter, your bad-boy, big-ruling planet, wants to gift you with everything you Desire. When you travel, you expand your horizons, every place you visit will become a part of your essence, and Teach you much more about yourself.

It’s at this time that Saturn returns to your sun sign once more. Can you think back 30 years ago? What major changes in your life occurred then? Maybe you’re just learning NOW, the lessons that Saturn has bestowed upon you.

Its time to grow up, and see that the big-Changes have started to come into your life, and are for the better, if you can just- Believe. Your beliefs: Thinking of the movie Big Fish; many could not believe if his story was true, but it didn’t matter because the Inspiration it left us with was enough to feel like magic, that still exists in this world.

Capricorn: Keep the End In Mind

A Capricorn without a big-Goal, may not be happy. Our Goats of our Zodiac climb high, and steady, as they reach the Top of the mountain. Capricorns are ruled by our Time-keeper- Saturn.

Our Rule-maker, and even as the goats climb sideways, we wonder “How do they do it?” They believe it- that’s why. They know if they just Focus with the end in mind, they will survive, and get there one day, regardless of how much pressure they need to put themselves under. Hard-work, and perseverance never fails.

I think of the lead role in Shawshank Redemption to escape his demise; he made his way slowly digging a hole, little by little, year by year, not allowing himself to be distracted, or discouraged.

You of all signs understand that life cannot be measured in a year, or a day, and if a set back comes your way, you know you will make it to the top of the mountain again, just try NOT to take life so seriously, and learn to yodel along the way.

Aquarius: Stay Connected

An Aquarius in Isolation, may be not happy. You can be sitting in front of your computer, and connected to thousands.. You might even be conjuring up the new Facebook technology of the next generation, but you need Personal connections in this life, outside of the internet.

Community-work comes to mind, and being with great friends or family, is important to an Aquarius, even if they don’t seem to show it. They connect very quickly to many, and can disconnect just as quickly when a new topic, or new surrounding comes their way.

This is just their way of life; they are not being rude, or dismissive.. they are just learning through US. Ruled by the planet Uranus, their minds work overtime, and see things very differently than most. Sudden change, and big-moves seem to happen in an instant, and it’s how You handle them, that make all the difference.

Know that you will always be okay, with strong connections that last longer than others, and will always be there to re-energize you. Social networks like Meet-up, were invented for you, OR maybe you’re working on creating your own.

Pisces: Know that You Know

A Pisces that doesn’t Trust their Intuition, and seems lost at sea, may not be happy. You are the seers, and you probably know the next words I’m gonna write before I even print them. Neptune, your ruling planet keeps you connected naturally to the Ethers, but as you are the two fish swimming in opposite directions so quickly, you can Choose to disconnect this Strong-power.

Whether you use drugs, alcohol, or just convince yourself that they don’t know the truth hearts desire is you can’t run away from the truth. You are here to help others and guide us with your inner knowing.

Don’t slip away into the dark depths of the ocean-tides. Come back to us, take a deep breath and rise up through the surface and let everyone see what a miracles being you are. Your intuition will always guide you. The more connected and sober you go through this life with a spiritual practice in mind, the happier you’ll be.

#astrology #happy #zodiac #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces

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axiomink · 5 years

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A Happy Ending

One day you suddenly start hearing muffled voices and the amount of them slowly increases. Eventually, you find out that they are praying to you and that they are people from stories you have created! Somehow, they have gained sentience and have discovered that you created their world.

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The air was dank and still as death itself. Suffocating, shoving its way into my throat and rotting my consciousness. The light of my lantern was the only thing keeping the monsters at bay, the only thing keeping their gnashing teeth from sinking it my skin.

“No no no,” I said aloud. “Too dark.”

I groaned and shoved the ancient typewriter away from me, then cracked open a lukewarm bottle of beer. I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ivory paper muddied by my words. Who was I kidding? I lost my touch. Ten years from the last time I wrote a paragraph had slipped through my fingers. Maybe in a past life the writing gods had blessed me, but in this one they only abandoned me.

After I chugged down the beer, I threw the empty bottle across the room, and it knocked my old cat in the head. He yawned and hissed at me, struggled to all fours, then bore his teeth—tail taut and stiff.

It wasn’t unusual for him to scold my self-loathing hijinks, but he would’ve calmed down by now. He stood up and trotted to the coat closet nestled in between the stairwell and the wall. He prodded the door with his paw. I stood up and leaned on my cane, then hobbled towards the closet. As I came closer, whispers leaked out and drifted into my ears. They were great in number and clamored over each other, yet I had never heard them before.

Palms sweaty, I nudged my cat away, cracked the door open, and peeked inside. A large portal, about six fee tall, hovered in the spot where my coats and jackets were supposed to be. The portal was bright and holographic, reflecting every light that touched it.

“What the hell,” I muttered.

The whispers grew louder, beckoning me like moths to a lamp. I stuck my fingers through, and after their tips brushed against silky foliage, I stepped through the portal. The whispers were deafening by now; saying, “Finish our story.”

I tripped on the seam of the portal and fell face-first into a pile of hangars and coats. I dug myself out and looked around to see five short figures, clad in dark, hooded cloaks, encircling me and chanting prayers and creeds. I stumbled back.

The tallest figure addressed me first. “We’ve done it!“

She whipped off her hood to reveal a pale, freckled face topped by ginger locks and bejeweled by emerald eyes. Her age shocked me the most; she had to be no older than eleven.

“Our creator has returned!” Her voice was girlish and innocent, with a tinge of exhaustion. “Everyone, bow!”

The four other figures collapsed to their knees, and the girl knelt at my feet.

“Wha—what is this?” I demanded, backing away.

The girl stood back up. “It’s me, Reese. You made me, remember?”

I picked through dusty, castaway memories.

“You were my first original character,” I said, half-guessing. “I created you as the main character for a book.”

Reese turned to the others, who pulled back their hoods as well.

“They remember! Do you remember anyone else?”

I studied the four faces. The boy with fluffy brown hair and brown eyes was Hunter, formerly Trevor. There was Jessie, Reese’s nerdy tech friend, with wild curly hair and dark skin. There was Missy, the resident mean girl turned buddy. And then there was . . . I grimaced.

“I’m sorry,” I said, turning towards the scrawny kid with messy, sand-colored hair. “I forgot your name.”

He gulped. “I uhh, can’t remember it either.”

“What?” I asked.

“Since you forgot it, so did he,” Reese said.

I stared at all of them. “How is this possible? How are you all . . . alive?”

“We’ve always been alive,” said Hunter, “from the moment you first thought of us. You are our benevolent god, and when you left us, we were forced to become sentient of our existence.”

“Okay, now this is getting a little creepy.”

“We just want you to set us free,” begged Missy. “We’ve been trapped here, in a static world that doesn’t change, expand, or age. We don’t how long it’s been. Time is an illusion here.”

“And how do I ‘set you free’, exactly?”

“Finish our story,” replied Reese. “Once you do, we’ll be able to take control of our own actions and world.”

I looked around me. I stood in a giant, lush forest. The grass was emerald green, the trees looked as if they touched the clouds, and wildlife was abundant. But as I examined closer, ominous things stuck out. I could feel no wind, the grass and leaves and foliage were beautiful in an unnatural way, and the animals moved stiffly, as if they were robots enslaved to a pre-written script. Even the horizon seemed empty and vague, like you’d fall off the edge of the earth if you left the forest.

“So I have to write the ending to the novel you guys were all in,” I said.

“Yes, but it has to be a real continuation, a real ending,” said Reese. “You have to put as much effort into it as you did before.”

I cringed. “Listen guys, I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. It’s been ten years since I tried writing anything—The Secret Forest was my last project.”

“But you have to help us,” chimed in the boy whose name I forgot.

“I said I can’t!”

I retreated towards the portal, but I secretly didn’t want to leave. I was curious and wanted to explore the world I had created.

“I knew they wouldn’t help us,” muttered Jessie.

“I’m not surprised either,” said Missy. “They abandoned us before anyway. Looks like you were wrong, prophet.”

Reese sighed and grabbed my arm. “Hey, can you at least stay with us for a bit? Maybe you’ll change your mind? Tell us about the universe you live in.”

The offer tempted me. “All right, fine.”

So I stayed there, in the forest. At first I forgot all about my cat, but he ventured through the portal and Missy found him on the second night. She continued to coddle the lively thing.

After spending time with the nameless boy, where he showed me magic tricks and told funny jokes, I decided to call him Curly. It wasn’t a great name, or even a good one, but Reese said once I finished the story, he’d be able to change it for himself.

In speaking of finishing the story, Reese still acted like I would do it, which made me uncomfortable. I distracted myself by spending hours building skyscrapers and transformer cars with Jessie.

I painted my face in striking colors and tried on dazzling clothes with Missy. Suits, dresses, she owned everything.

Hunter didn’t like me very much, and Reese told me it was because he was jealous. She was the main character, and so he was he, but slightly less so. He believed he should’ve been the prophet—the main character.

“But I still like him,” she said, sighing.

“Eugh,” I replied.

“What? He is the love interest after all! You used to ship us.”

“Yeah, but not anymore. Honestly, now that I look back, all of you guys sucked.”

Reese was taken aback. She shifted on the large tree branch we were sitting on. “Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying, all of you are one-sided and poorly developed. I based all of your personalities off of stupid tropes, you know. And you’re a friggin’ self-insert from when I was like, eleven.”

A tear welled in her eye. “You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself,” she choked out. “You had just started writing.”

“Yeah, but I could’ve done better. That’s why I quit, you know? I just didn’t like what I was writing. It was just so . . . bad. Everything, the plot, the world-building, and especially the characters.”

By now her face was red as rubies. “But you are going to finish our story, right?”

I shrugged. “I dunno. Do I want to? I don’t really care or like any of you so. I’m not a writer anyway, not anymore.”

She turned away. “You don’t know what it’s like,” she muttered, “to not have name. You don’t know what it’s like being trapped, in a median where you’re never truly caught nor free. You don’t know what it’s like staring into the eyes of someone who loves you back, but you can’t have them. Or even confess to them. You don’t know what hopelessness feels like”

“Well, fun fact—I do,” I snorted. “Man, that sure was a dramatic monologue. Don’t remember writing you as the emo trope.”

Reese gasped and jumped down from the tree, landing with grace on the mossy ground. “Fine!” she yelled. “Go home then! Keep Hunter and I apart! Keep all of us from living our lives!”

She stormed off towards the waterfall and swiped her arm across her face.

I groaned and slipped down the tree, with much less precision and poise. I began to follow her, but Hunter appeared and stopped me.

“You should probably let her be,” he said. “Listen, I’m not going to tell you what to do, I’m not going to give you some stupid pep talk about how you’re still a writer. Maybe you are, maybe you’re not. You don’t have to keep writing, and you don’t even owe us a happy ending. But remember that you created something you still control, and you’re responsible for it.”

I stared at him. “Well, I certainly don’t remember writing you like this either.”

“Every character has potential,” he responded.

I thought for a moment, then turned and headed to the waterfall.

Reese bent over her reflection as it rippled with the waves. The waterfall towered over her, pouring gallons of sapphire liquid from an eternal source.

“It’s the only area that changes,” she explained, hearing us approach.

“Do you have a typewriter I could borrow?” I asked.

She didn’t look at me. “What’s a typewriter?”

“You’ll uh, you’ll find out. Is there any paper around, then? I need lots of it.”

“Why?” she asked, solemn.

“Guess.”

She stood up. “What made you change your mind?”

Hunter nudged me and whispered, “Don’t tell her I did it, she will not like that.”

“I just decided to,” I said. “Do I have to like, put something that indicates it’s the end?”

“No,” Reese said. “It’s the end whenever you decide it’s the end. You have to return home first, I imagine. Since our world will change drastically when you close it off.”

“Of course.”

So Curly came over and slapped down a stack of fresh copy paper while Missy gave me her lucky pencil and eraser. Then I got settled in the lush grass and wrote and wrote, scribbling my heart and mind out.

For the first few hours writer’s block trapped me, but my characters gave me ideas and helped me fight through it. Callouses formed on my fingers, my eyes were bloodshot, but I kept pressing the lead to paper. Missy’s pencil was soon ground to a nub, and eraser bits covered the area.

I wrote from sun up to sun down, and once I was nearly done I wished everyone goodbye—Curly, Missy, Jessie, Hunter, and Reese. Missy gave back my old cat, who had warmed up quite a bit to her.

They escorted me to the field where they prayed before, and I helped Reese summon another portal. Everyone waved and cheered as I stepped through—papers, cat, and coats in my arms.

I tumbled out of the closet and sealed the portal, then sat down in front of my typewriter and put the finishing touches on the ending. Once I was sure it was done, I wrote, ‘The End’ in big, bold letters, just to make it official.

It was a rough draft, so it was far from perfect. I knew that. But I didn’t mind this time.

I leaned back and wondered what kind of life my characters would lead. Jessie might become a NASA scientist; Curly a stand-up comedian or perhaps a famous Youtuber; Missy a fashion designer; Reese an environmental activist; and Hunter would follow her where ever.

Afterwards, I never wrote again.

THE END

So this was for a mini-contest. I know it’s vaguely personal essay-esque, because I feel like if my ocs came to life there’d be a certain set that would be very upset with me. My first idea was that the ocs would kidnap me and take me to their world because this crazy serial killer from another story I wrote somehow escaped into their world, and I would be the only one who could stop him. That idea would have had more of a humorous slant, but in the end I just went with this one.

#writing #short story #writeblr #writing prompt #creative fiction #original writing #my writing #axioms

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captivesrp · 6 years

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The hunter struggles to wake up. As he does, though, his exhaustion seems to fall off of his body like dead skin from a snake. His head clears. He leans heavily against the wall---it is definitely a smooth limestone of some variety---and takes a long breath. He holds it for a count of seven, then slowly releases it. This is a calming technique he learned . . . from whom did he learn it? This is confusing. In the end, the hunter shrugs his shoulders and accepts that he learned it from someone and that he will experience its learning soon.

“That is correct.”

The intrusive idea makes the hunter jump as it is shoved into his mind. He had momentarily forgotten how his companion in the dark communicates.

“Why must you communicate in ideas? Do you lack a voice and language?”

“Perhaps as you understand them, yes. Yet . . . you are learning, as am I,” says the creature.

The hunter starts! The creature had spoken in his language! Still no voice, but in a thought.

“Yes, small one, I am learning how to put my ideas into your language. Not all my thoughts can fit, but we will work around that. Now conversing will be quicker.”

The hunter is pleased. It seems he is here with the beast to learn, not to be devoured.

The thought of laughter accompanies the beast’s huffing noise. “I am glad you are eager to learn, but you must . . . sleep . . . now.”

The hunter willingly falls into a deep slumber, aware of the darkness around him but no longer fearing it, for it is full of learning.

* * *

Murchadh rolls into wakefulness and feels the sun move high above the horizon. He cannot see it, but months on the road have taught him how to feel the movement of the sun and stars in the taste and quality of the air, the particular grey of dawn. His senses seem to be getting stronger the more time he spends in the dream-world . . . or is it just a separate real world? If it is a reality, future or otherwise, Murchadh must be on the alert: he is hunting for a magical beast while communicating with one every time his eyes close; how does he know the creature in darkness is not that which he is trying to catch? He cannot know for sure, but decides to trust it. For now, anyway.

It is still some time until midday. Murchadh checks on Ainsley and Heulwen. They are still sound asleep. Murchadh pulls the bedding up around Heulwen; the blanket is damp from the rain and Murchadh looks up at the grey clouds, feeling a few drops against his face. He moves away from Heulwen, straps on his brace and clicks in his bow, and pulls his cloak around himself. He is going to get some food for his team.

He moves slowly and silently down the slope into the wooded valley, disappearing into the low trees. He is back doing what he loves; he is one with the land, a mid-level predator content with his lot in life. As such, he is on constant lookout for other hunters, higher up on the food chain than him, as well as for his own prey. The woods are sleepy this morning. They are settling in for the deep sleep of winter and this cold rain is just a foretaste of this weather to come.

There are no signs of trouble creatures in the area. That, together with the abundance of prey signs, bodes well for Murchadh. He picks a set of fresh coney tracks and follows them until he finds it grazing, blissfully unaware. He lifts his bow and draws back an arrow, fighting to keep his arm still. The arrow flies high when he releases, lodging in the ground behind the animal, and Murchadh sighs as he watches the coney’s tail disappear into the bush.

Eventually, he is able to bag two coneys in four shots. Both were felled by shots to the body; he still needs practice with the bow, and headshots will come when his accuracy improves. For now, however, the two animals will provide a substantial breakfast. Murchadh sets off back to the slope and the camp.

When he arrives, the others have cleared a space by the rock bluff where it slightly overhangs them and are trying to start a fire. Murchadh offers to step in, picking up a shard of flint from the ground and drying it on his shirt. He passes the coneys to Ainsley. Heulwen offers to forage for some vegetables or fruit, and disappears down the slope as Murchadh sparks the flint against the back of his knife.

Before too long, he is nursing a crackling campfire, Ainsley has dressed and spitted the meat, and Heulwen has returned with some late summer tubers and berries.

After eating, Murchadh can see that life has reentered the group. It is later than he had hoped to set off on their exploration of the valley, but he does not regret the hot meal and extra rest.

“Well,” he starts, “when I was was out walking this morning, I saw a nice lake down in the valley. It might be a good place to start. We can each take an area and look for unusual tracks, or something . . .” Murchadh winces a little. “They never gave us anything we could look for other than cat or hoof tracks.”

Heulwen’s response is not what Murchadh expects: “I don’t know. Whatever you think.” It almost sounds like she is apologizing for her existence.

Murchadh looks at her, slightly concerned. “You are in just as good of place as me to decide our course,” he says, smiling kindly at her. “You’ll have as good an idea of how to find this mysterious creature as anyone.” Murchadh pauses and waits for her or Ainsley to respond. The latter just shrugs. “Okay, let us go to the lake and see if anything has come for water.”

They make their way down toward the lake. Murchadh has already made the trek, but he keeps an eye out for new signs anyway. They find nothing on their way, and a sudden white fog, overtaking the grey morning mist, certainly does not help as they near the lakeside. His surroundings disappear, and Murchadh suddenly senses an unnatural force behind the fog. He tenses and wishes he had thought to set up his bow. As it is, he draws out his dagger, readies it to throw, and moves forward slowly. No sounds, not even of his own footfalls or breaths, reach his ears. Murchadh grows more and more nervous.

Finally, he sees something at his feet: two sets of tracks. In one direction moves the prints of his companions; the other set features signs of talons. The prints are the size of his head. He has never seen tracks like these before, but then . . . it comes to him in a wave: he has seen these in his dreams, has seen them left behind by his coiling golden friend. He does not like this fog, nor the portent at his feet. Both sets of tracks are fresh, yet he had not heard his companions cry out---they had obviously not encountered the neidrag.

The choice is not difficult: Murchadh hurries quickly along the trail of Ainsley and Heulwen. He needs to find them and get out of this fog as quickly as possible.

Then the fog lifts, and Heulwen is standing slightly dazed in a meadow in sight of the lake.

Silently, he joins her and together they trek back to the camp, hoping that Ainsley will have the same idea. They meet him on the slope, and Murchadh cannot help breaking the silence. “What happened?” he asks. “Did you see any large beasts or anything harmful? This fog is not natural. Something set it on us.”

He does not receive much of a response: only enough to communicate that they had been lost in it, also. Growing increasingly worried, Murchadh follows the others as they all return to the camp. Kneeling by their pit to start a fire, he asks Ainsley to hunt for a meal.

* * *

Sitting back and cleaning the bones of the fowl they had all eaten movements ago with handfuls of grit, storing them in his bag, Murchadh watches the sun set and studies the ridge rising to their southwest. He would like to return to the Gwaedwn village a different way than they had come, but the cliffs look impassable.

“Symbre desires us to be home on time no matter how close we are to something important,” he says, breaking the silence of the camp. “Pressed, we need only a day to travel back, which leaves us two days here to continue searching, if we wish, but it may be wise to set off on the journey back with a day to spare. That fog was promising, but I suspect it means whatever had been here could sense it was being hunted and has disappeared.”

He receives all the response he has come to expect from his fellow hunters: silence. So he makes up his own mind to give their investigations another day before giving up.

They set up watches to go through the night. Murchadh offers to take the first and last watch, if they each take a watch in the middle. He needs the time to think before he sleeps and wants to be up early to watch the sunrise. He wants to see it banish the shadows of night.

* * *

The hunter finds himself waking through a familiar mist. He knows these lands; he has been here a million times. As he stalks closer to his goal, however, he realizes that this time things are different. Though his legs are even, his right arm is a club strapped into a brace. His father’s bow is attached with an arrow nocked. He has both ancestral daggers and a fine set of throwing knives in his belt. As he moves like a ghost through the dark, heavy mist, he does not even leave a bruised blade of grass to mark his passage.

As he moves forward, he wonders where his dark friend is tonight. He slows as in front of him he senses the looming presence of Coedwig y Gelli’s standing stones. There is no light and no wind tonight. This should be where he meets his golden friend, but something is wrong. He stops directly behind one of the stones, takes a deep breath, holds it for seven heartbeats, and slowly exhales. As he does so he pushes his senses out beyond himself. As they expand, he slowly becomes aware of the mouse nest three paces in front of him; it is full of terrified mice. He continues to expand his area of awareness and slowly becomes aware of an other: this creature is standing in the middle of the ring, waiting. For him.

The hunter finds this creature’s presence familiar to him: it is a giant black panther. He feels rather than sees or hears the ruffling of its enormous wings, and then is pushed back with a sudden awareness of the panther’s discordant song. With a settling sense of fate, the hunter knows that he needs to defeat this beast on his own; his golden friend is not able to enter this reality.

The hunter takes a deep breath, slowly coils up every muscle of his body, follows the breathing of his adversary . . .

At the peak of his inhale, the hunter springs around the rock, looses his arrow, trusting his senses to guide the bolt as he still has no vision. The creature responds with incredible speed, leaping over the arrow and launching at the hunter. He was expecting this and has already reloaded, is darting to the side and firing where the beast will land.

The cat twists and arches its back and the arrow passes harmlessly under its stomach. Pushing his advantage, the hunter focuses his consciousness and sends it like a bolt into the mind of the panther. Off balance, the creature stumbles and hisses audibly, but quicker than the hunter can prepare for it darts forward, suddenly spins. Its tail lashes out, catching the brace and smashing it to splinters. Barbs nestled in the cat’s fur cut up the hunter’s face from the corner of his mouth to his right ear as the tail follows through in its momentum.

The hunter lets out his own hiss of pain and rolls to the side to avoid the swinging claws of the cat now brought into play. As soon as he feels ground beneath his feet he rolls again, this time directly under the beast, and as he tumbles he fires another mental dart. The panther follows his movement, senses him beneath it, and drops to the ground to crush and smother him---but lets loose a cry of pain and leaps away! The hunter had drawn his dagger and the blade, buried deep by the creature’s own weight, is yanked from his grasp. He pushes himself to his feet and draws a throwing knife.

The beating of the panther’s wings has cleared a space in the fog. The hunter now stands in the cold light of a sky glowing with a new moon. His own blood, dripping from his flayed cheek, drips onto his chest and meets cloth already soaked with panther’s blood. Breathing hurts; many of his ribs were broken by the creature’s impact. But the hunter cannot address that now. He hurls his first throwing knife. Then another, and another, stabbing darts of consciousness at the creature as he advances with sudden speed.

The creature dodges two blades and hisses as the third lodges in its shoulder. It is starting to throw up mental blocks and send mental darts of its own. The hunter deftly deflects them, entering a full out sprint towards the cat as it backs up, clearly having not expected such a difficult fight. It spreads it wings and begins to take off. The hunter puts all his will behind his legs. If he lets the cat take off, he will be as good dead.

Just as the creature launches itself into the air, the hunter springs at the cat’s hindquarters, taking two handfuls of coarse fur---yes, two: the hunter is shocked to see that his right arm is now full and strong. Pushing his thoughts aside, he focuses on pulling himself up onto the back of the creature. The panther is rising swiftly into the air now, and the constant shifting and the buffeting wind does not make the climb easy, but the hunter’s struggle pays off and he gains the beast’s spine---just in time. He seizes the thick fur between the creature’s wings as it suddenly flips onto its back, coils down through the sky, swoops around and upwards again. It continues to attempt to dislodge him, but the hunter refuses to die without more fight.

He wraps his left hand tightly in the beast’s black fur and reaches into his belt with his newly-good right hand, drawing the second of his heraldic daggers. He slashes a deep gash into the base of the panther’s right wing, feels his blade scratch upon bone.

The creature lets loose a scream of agony and slowly begins to tumble towards the earth far below them. Against the buffeting wind and the panicked bucking of the panther, the hunter wraps his legs around the thick black neck, takes his dagger in both hands, and plunges it into the base of the head and feels the blade part the beast’s vertebrae. At that moment, the hunter is blasted from his seat by an enormous explosion of mental energy, sending him cartwheeling through the air separate from the creature, who now limply twists and turns in its plunge as the air makes it, the hilt of the hunter’s knife gleaming at the joint of its skull.

He has given good account for himself. The hunter smiles a crooked smile as he looks up at the receding stars, and he begins to sing in his head the song of the sky:

The warrior of the sea and sky is swift in vengeance and he is nigh . . .

All of a sudden a dark serpentine shape blots out the sky above him, and the hunter is caught gently in the claws of a large golden beast. He is flown back to the standing stones and placed gently on the ground.

The neidraig lands beside him. “Well done, friend, you did more than could be expected. You are a worthy heir of the bloodline of the warrior of the sky and sea. Your ancestors will be proud. Will you fly with me, warrior? There is much we could do together.”

The hunter stands and takes a deep breath---realizing as he does so that his chest does not hurt. In fact, other than a tightness in the skin of his cheek, he feels whole and well. He reaches up to touch the scar left by the panther’s spiny tail. He asks, “How am I not injured? Why is my arm whole?”

“This world is not as the world that you understand, friend,” relates the golden serpent, “and time is an entity beyond what you can perceive.”

The hunter nods. These concepts have been introduced to him before . . . in the dark cavern! He feels the mystery stone against his palm. Then he remembers the hunt, the children who are his family, the warrior who is his blood. His memories burst into his consciousness and suddenly he knows that this is the first time he has met the golden friend of his dreams. Time truly is not what he has perceived.

The hunter finds his father’s bow in the splinters of his brace. His knives have vanished, but he finds an old sword leaning upon one of the standing stones. He picks it up and smiles. It needs a good clean and sharpen, but it feels good in his hand. He turns to the neidraig.

“Let’s fly!”

* * *

Murchadh is shaken awake by Ainsley; it is time for his final watch, and he is exhausted. Murchadh pulls himself into a sitting position against the cliff wall and peers up at the sky, watching the odd star peek from the clouds and then fade again away.

Dawn’s light begins to seep into the sky before too long, painting the clouds in an ethereal glow. The rain has become sporadic, now, seemingly dropping on the whims of only occasional clouds. Sunk in fog, the land in the valley below looks like a smooth, white sea.

Murchadh is lost in thought, thinking about his night fighting the winged black panther, his first meeting with his familiar golden friend and their subsequent flight. He recognizes that he knows more now than before, but is yet disappointed: he had wanted to talk with the beast in the shadowy cavern. But, nothing he could have done about it. He shakes his head and stands to complete his stretches.

Murchadh rouses his crew when it is time to begin their day. They breakfast and set off into the valley, but the day is empty of any signs of a mystical creature. The night, too, is empty: for the first time in months, Murchadh does not dream. He wakes the next morning feeling strangely empty and alone.

After breakfasting on a rabbit hunted by Ainsley, sensing that nothing more is to be earned in this valley, Murchadh suggests they head back to the village on this fourth day of their excursion. Heavy rain slows their trek, and it is the dead of night when they stumble into the encampment.

Murchadh and the others report the strange fog and the lack of any other signs to Tyree and then disperse to sleep.

* * *

The next day, Murchadh heads over to the captives’ complex to check in on his friends, and to once again ask their help adjusting his archery brace---this time without deception: he had felt resistance when aiming during his hunt and was hoping they could adjust the brace for smoother movement.

While Anwen tinkers with the straps, Murchadh informs them of his experience on the hunt and asks them for news of the village. His gut twists at Anwen’s report of the return of Archora’s hunting party, and their garish trophy. He had not seen it in the center of the village this morning on his way over, but neither Anwen nor Ffrewgí can tell him why it had been taken down and are surprised it had been. Ffrewgí seems to have been especially affected by it.

Murchadh slips them some of his breakfast and leaves with his adjusted brace, hoping to find Fuldryn, wanting to hear more about the mysterious quarry of the Gwaedwn.

* * *

Over the next few days, Murchadh watches Logain lead away his hunting group, practices with his bow, reads the two stories of the creature in language Murchadh can understand contained within the Gwaedwn’s library, and gathers all the stories of it he can. Additionally, he convinces Fuldryn to teach him how to read the languages and old dialects the other library accounts are written in. The process will be slow, but Murchadh considers the learning well worth it.

The stories he gathers from Fuldryn’s memory and from the fireside stories of others sound very much akin to many of the myths and legends he himself could recite by heart. One tells of a child of a great chief whose tribe was killed by the venomous bite of a great white stag, but whom received from the stag the gift of a few drops of blood. The child consumed the blood and, when the gods ceased to walk the earth and were called to the heavens, it is said the child was taken with them into immortality. Another tale documents the hunt of the young daughter of a slave, who tracked and captured a jet-black highland wildcat. The wildcat spat blood into the girl’s mouth and granted her visions of how to become chief of the land, then became her companion and was her token of fortune as she defeated tribe after tribe through trickery and genius, eventually reigning as Great Chief of one hundred southern tribes until she died of old age.

None of the stories Murchadh gathers grant the creature wings, as had the black panther in Murchadh’s dream, but he does not allow this to disappoint him: on one hand, he has certainly not yet heard all the legends of this creature, and on the other, his golden friend and the shadowy beast had both introduced him to the idea of alternate worlds: his present reality does not need to match that which he has experienced beyond it.

It is the day of the equinox, the end of summer, and there is a vibrant energy, as well as uneasy tension, in the village. There is to be a bonfire tonight, according to common custom, and this is also the day that Wyddryr, Alaric, and Anwen are supposed to return from their hunt. A deep fog has settled in for the day just to accent the mood.

Murchadh does as much as he can around camp to help out. He makes sure to drop off extra food for Ffrewgí, placing it outside his tent, since he is somewhere else on a task. He works beside Tyree gathering wood, stacking it in two large piles: one for the ceremonial bonfire and the other to actually cook a celebratory meal upon. All through the day, Murchadh is on edge waiting for Anwen’s return, though part of him hopes that she, and Alaric, will not come back---that they have escaped. The two captives are strong together, and Murchadh likes their chances.

As the day draws to a close, the fog thickens until it is as if the sky has come down to earth, and Murchadh can almost feel himself soar through these grey clouds on the back of the neidraig. He escapes the flashbacks as he steps into the circle of dry air surrounding the bonfires. The offering is already burning black over the larger fire, and the smell of perfectly cooked meat slowly wafts towards him from the smaller. Gwaedwn tribespeople are already lining up by the calf, allowed to serve themselves from its juicy flanks. Others are laughing around the bonfire.

Murchadh, Ashrille, and Ainsley help themselves to meat and Murchadh is licking the delicious grease from his fingers as he watches a significant gaze pass between Symbre and Logain---night has fully fallen, and the hunters have not returned. Murchadh tries not to think about the implications, and instead focuses on listening to the various stories being exchanged around the bonfire.

Many reflections of the new-past summer are being shared. Murchadh learns of the sailing trip to fetch Anwen, and how Fuldryn lured Ffrewgí away from his tribe. Tired of hearing capture tales, he interjects after the giant bald brigand laughs about dropping Ffrewgí into his pit, and asks Symbre to tell her favourite legend of the creature.

There is silence, then Fuldryn speaks up, “Go on, Symbre. Give the lad a tale. It will be nice to hear a tale told with your skill. Remind of us of our purpose.”

Symbre is unreadable in the moment following, but eventually she speaks forth in a clear, powerful voice:

“There was once a small tribe in the very north of our land, on an island just off the shore. They were considered weak by the surrounding tribes, but this generation had survived by the cleverness and wit of their chief. But the man had fallen ill with the great fever that claims its victims without hope of recovery. At this time, word came to them that the Abrincatui, a powerful warrior tribe, was traveling north in force to destroy them, for they were furious at how many times they had been made fools by this small tribe. Now the tribe was distraught, for they had not the warriors to defend themselves and their clever chief was surely dying of the fever. They could not even ask his advice, for fear of the great fever spreading.

“In fear, the tribespeople deserted the village, leaving behind their valuables in a pile to the south of the village, in hopes that the Abrincatui would be content to plunder and not to kill, and one of their daughters, a small child who refused to leave with the rest. Her name was Aine.

“She would not leave her chief. She knew that she would die, of the fever or by the sword, but she loved him dearly, for he had taken her in when she was orphaned. So she slept outside of his hut every night, and would hold her breath to bring in food and water to him every day. One night, she dreamed of the beautiful yet alien god Ffanahar, who told her to trust them. She was to find Ffanahar’s child of the god Sacain, a black horse that ran like the wind on the crests of the waves, and then she was to obtain a flask of its blood with which she could heal her chief.

“Aine woke immediately from her dream and ran down to the shore. There she found one of her village’s small fishing boats. She pushed it off into the teeth of a gale. The wind drove her onward, and she rode the crests of the waves until at dawn she struck an unfamiliar shore. She then got out of her boat and followed the sound of wind whistling through a canyon. When the sound died, she had arrived at the furthest inland point of a fjord, and there, playing on the crests of the waves rolling onto a black sand beach, was the black horse. He had the tusks of a boar and he ran on taloned feet, and Aine knew that it would kill her instantly if she showed herself to it.

“Now, Aine was in awe and fear of the creature; she did not know what to do, so she sat down behind a rock and thought about how her chief would achieve this goal. As she sat and thought, she noticed that the sounds of the waves came at her from many directions as the noise broke upon the rocky beach. She also saw that the tide was going out. She knew what she needed to do.

“She moved silently behind a rock nearer to the water and called out towards the cliff, ‘Oh great horse of the sea! How I am glad to see you in all your magnificence, for you are prized among all other creatures!’

“The horse stopped its playing upon the waves, for it could not tell where Aine’s voice came from. It listened for a time, then replied, “Fair maid, I cannot tell whence you speak. Come, show me your face that I may give you a gift!”

“Aine knew that the black horse’s favourite gift was death, so she replied, ‘O great one, how I long to, but I am trapped forever by shadows and can only come out at dark. Please remain close until nightfall that I may receive your gift and thank you before your glory.’

“‘I will remain here and wait for you, for I am well pleased to deliver my gifts to those who find me,’ responded the horse, but it was only thinking of the death it usually bestowed.

“To ensure the black horse would keep its promise, Aine kept him talking long into the evening, and the horse remained still, trying to discern from where she was speaking. But she kept moving from rock to rock and speaking into the wind, and it could not find her.

“As the sun began to close his great eye, the horse realized that it had allowed much of the tide to flow away while it had conversed with the clever tribe’s-daughter. He called out, ‘Good maiden, my mother pulls away and I must follow. The shadows are long upon the beach; come near me along their paths and receive your gift.’

“And so Aine stepped from behind her rock and was revealed. The eyes of the black horse coldly sparkled and the creature made as to strike the girl down then and there---but it could not! For while it had been distracted in conversation, its sharp talons had sunk into the shifting sands. And lo! the tide curled one final time around its ankles and receded. The horse was trapped and powerless in front of the cunning girl.

“The creature cried, ‘Alas! What trickery have you called down upon me! For I will now surely die because of you!’

“Aine smiled and approached its hindquarter, being careful to stay away from the horse’s tusks. She opened a cut on its flank and filled a flask with salt blood. Lifting kelp from the sand where it had been abandoned by the sea, she patched the cut and made as if to leave, saying, ‘Thank you for your excellent gift! Now given, it will surely save the life of my beloved chief.’

“The black horse called out to her, ‘You must release me from this mire or it shall be my grave!’

“Aine looked at the creature. ‘I cannot, for you will kill me, and when I do not return with your gift my chief will die.’

“‘What must I do to earn my freedom? It is true: I will kill you, for you have tricked and stolen from me; but, if you help me to live I may be able to serve you further.’

“Now, Aine was hoping for this request. ‘You must promise to aid me. My chief and I are alone in our village, and there is a war band coming to destroy us. You must bear me to my chief and then ensure no Abrincatui warrior ever sets foot on our shores.’

“‘Yes, I will do those things easily, for I love to run on the waves, and to take the lives of this ward band will calm my temper.’

“‘And you will only take my life when I have taken up the white crown of our village.’

“Its legs had now sunk to the knees, so the black horse did not hesitate, and said, ‘Yes, it shall be as you say!’

“So Aine, using driftwood as a spade, freed the creature. Good to its word, the horse bent its neck to take the girl as rider, and sped off across the waves. When they arrived on the beach in view of the village, Aine said, ‘I hear the oars of my enemy’s ships; go now, drive them away. Go and soothe your temper, and I will heal my chief using your gift.’

“The black horse did as bidden and in peace, Aine’s beloved chief recovered within a day of the administration of the creature’s salt blood.

“As for Aine, she came to adulthood under the tutelage of her chief, whose wisdom and cleverness won him many victories and grew his tribe to size even greater than before his illness, and when he passed of old age she took his place and grew her tribe greater yet. And in the bow of her ship, she would speak to the wind, ‘Not yet.’

“But one day she felt death in the stones under her feet, and she had her white hair braided in a circlet about her head in the tradition of her people. She left her village and, not allowing any to follow, walked upright to the ocean shore.

“That night, the cry of a great horse was heard in the storm winds, and it is said it was the cry of a beast greeting its chosen rider. For Aine had seen the child of Ffanahar and Sacain and had yet lived her full life.”

In the silence that follows, Murchadh sits, thinking about the story and the meaning behind it.

Then a commotion draws his attention---a Gwaedwn hurries into the circle of firelight and whispers something to Logain. Murchadh slips from the light to follow the two men as they make their way towards the edge of the village. They find Wyddryr, stumbling with exhaustion and visibly injured, and Murchadh leaves the group and rushes towards the captives’ complex.

He arrives just in time to see Alaric and Anwen disappear into their tent. In the darkness, Murchadh can just make out the pale bandages covering the boy’s torso, then he has collapsed inside the tent.

They must have found something dangerous.

* * *

Over the next few days, Murchadh spends time with Anwen whenever he can, talking and helping her out with her mandatory tasks. She shares about her hunting party’s experience, telling Murchadh about how they had encountered a fire lizard with a shell like a turtle, and how they had almost died escaping it.

Alaric had taken the brunt of the monster’s attacks, and Murchadh watches him nervously as days pass and he slaves away under the Gwaedwn’s orders. His fearsome burns require constant redressing, and inevitably leave old bandages coloured with pus and blood. The first time Murchadh had seen the wounds, he was not sure the boy would live, but after nearly a week the stoic hunter is still completing all his tasks without complaint, and Murchadh is confident he will live to fight another day.

Murchadh is sitting outside his tent, watching the camp live and move around him despite the rain. Fall is arrived and winter looms.

Murchadh thinks about what he has learned of the creature from legends, and the experiences of all the children---Ffrewgí, Ashrille, and Cydwag had just arrived back from their excursion, and Murchadh gleaned their experience from conversation with Ashrille over the bandages of Alaric this morning. Though none of them actually encountered the beast, Murchadh feels as though they all experienced pieces of it: he has learned, then, that the creature is possessed of great power, and both mercy and violence; from the legends, he knows it often tries to kill those that come in contact with it, but knows also that it can be happy to grant to some the gift of its blood.

Murchadh sighs. It will take a lot more study and experience to really learn anything. His dreams of late have not been particularly helpful, either: neither the shadow beast nor his golden friend can share anything solid, only repeating their lessons regarding time and experience. They continue to insinuate portents of his future, and how he plays a role in significant events.

He does not care what those events might be. He just needs to get his family out of slavery and back to their families and tribes. That is what he must focus on. His own place and future, he is not sure of. Will he regret working against the Gwaedwn, his tribe, after fulfilling his goal? He cannot know, but he does not allow his lack of surety to change his focus. If he is somehow permitted to remain, he will. If not, he will take to the road. If he survives.

Whatever happens next, Murchadh just hopes that nobody will die.

#murchadh #chapter eight

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seidipaddlaw-blog · 5 years

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Pisces dating a scorpio man

Dating A Scorpio Man: Do You Have What It Takes? As an Aries , im honest and straight up. Like you, I am a sensitive pisces woman who developed a relationship with a scorpio man. Beneath their intimidating persona resides a bottomless pit of emotion that threatens to swallow them hole… er whole. Pisces and Scorpio Match We often hear that Pisces and Scorpio are a good match but few reasons are given why. Pisces and Scorpio compatibility is blessed with a mutual understanding which really helps here. Considering how consumed this astrological sign is with others, this makes sense. Are they good lovers and providers? Scorpio and Pisces also make quite a nice romantic couple: One with quite the level of passionate intensity too.

Are Scorpio and Pisces Soulmates? (The Scorpio Figuring people out is like a game for Scorpio and they are typically quite good at it. Love reading all the comments! Are you trying to figure out if your sign is compatible? But through this decade we've managed to maintain our connection. Let yourself be carried away by the wave which is his presence and revel in this relationship. Beautiful and very honesty article about this subject. Pisces males tend to endure injuries to the feet and should, therefore, be careful to treat any wounds with care, and this is particularly true if the individual has diabetes. That for thirteen yrs I prayed he was safe, he was healthy, and he was happy. Aside from possibly harming one another emotionally, this couple might also find themselves up against a very tough world.

Aries Woman and Pisces Man Dating Is there any truth behind the notion that both water signs are complimentary? It is one of the reasons Scorpios are seen to be so distant. The Pisces man is charming, generous and romantic. The other question that he asked me was did he look better on the photos of him or in person. The dominating persona of the Scorpion, though handled well by the or , can cause problems in the relationship at times. However, the Sun sign is a useful starting point for exploring just how you're likely to be with a person you're considering dating. In return she is able to offer him all that he desires.

Aries Woman and Pisces Man Dating And for all of our rational abilities, we have a glitch when it comes to jealousy. Mars represents energy, action, passion and desire. Excessive wealth is not his typical pursuit. I never found a compatible Scorpio for me. I am not selfish, love giving pleasure, especially orally. It's sad to say, but eventually there could come a time when she washes her hand of him forever, or he just slips out the door for good.

Pisces Man She contributes the passion to their lovemaking while he makes it ever more for her with his vivid imaginations and fantasies. So Far I see a wonderful future. Pisces men are usually wise, knowledgeable, interested in expanding personal horizons, and the world as well as growth. Still, to make their dates perfect, each should begin or end with a stop by an eclectic café, outdoor preferably, where they can quietly talk and laugh about their time together and get to know one another. As Scorpio man understands his Pisces woman well such situations are hard to arise and he does take care if such thing ever happens. Scorpio and Pisces Sex Lots of cuddling, nesting and sensuality. However, when it comes to making love with a Scorpio woman, she can be as controlling as she desires and the Pisces man will gladly submit.

Pisces Man But omg we kept texting all the time and we couldnt wait any longer to see eachother again. Pisces, for example, holds mysticism and magic and all that is unseen. I need to tell him I have never stopped loving him and I couldn't do anything about our relationship back then. Meanwhile, a into himself, becomes aloof, sulks, and makes himself scarce. Was it the way he seems to cater to his desires and go after what he wants? I over looked all of the flaws and began to see the soft side of him. As i observed Scorpios are cold at heart they are so selfish that they cannot even see others pain. .

Pisces and Scorpio Compatibility In Love, Sex and Marriage Life But he is handsome and well shaped, anyways he likes me very much and hes so subtle but i can very much see all the little signs of sensitive, jealousy, possessiveness and all the above as written. Of course we have discussions but he is way too calm to even start a fight with me Taurus would stomp me down if I would've started a fight. He manages money with care because it holds it to be the very key to his dreams and objectives. Both Scorpio and Pisces have fragile hearts that once broken, never quite get put back together fully which is why they are so guarded and tentative about loving and giving of themselves completely. Part of this is due to their psychic abilities. I adore our time together and he craves me.

Pisces and Scorpio Compatibility: The Dreamer and the Sorcerer ⋆ Astromatcha As for sexy time … In the bedroom, the Scorpio man is adventurous and extremely passionate. Riding on a cosmic wave of energy, those characteristics are broadcast by Pisces ruling planets, Jupiter and Neptune respectively. Can be the scorpio is to result from the pisces woman couldn't really well as long. I agree with the description for both signs, but not everything. Maybe can endure more insults and hurt a bit longer to see where this strange path leads. I have been seeing a scorpio man for almost 3 years I am Aries All of what you say is spot on with him as well. But ladies, the Scorpio man will make sure you are okay and not in need of anything.

Are Scorpio and Pisces Soulmates? (The Scorpio Hi I am a Scorpio male and what you have described totally matches. Our only desire is to please you once we are in love with you. The zodiac sign of Pisces corresponds with the sacral or Svadhisthana chakra; this is not surprising seeing it is the chakra associated with the pleasure center and passion. It is easy for his mind to wander onto his next goal or achievement. Pisces and Scorpio are both equally sensitive — and emotionally vulnerable — star signs, but show their hurt feelings in different ways. Maintaining a good exercise routine and doing some sort of sports to keep fit is recommended in an effort to burn off those extra comfort food-borne calories. This is a very loyal and honest combination and you will almost feel yourself distanced and different from any other relationship you know of.

Scorpio Man Traits and How He Shows Love This leaves Scorpio feeling challenged; something that paradoxically draws this sign into Pisces snares. Always has an answer for everything and to me it comes off as rude! The vulnerable Fish is always on the lookout for someone to take care of it and who better than big strong Scorpio, who's always happy to lend a shoulder for others to lean on. A lack of harmonious conditions is not conducive to dream building. I can truly see and feel his emotions in his eyes. Talk about your aspirations and desires and he will want to know more.

#Scorpio #Man #And #Pisces #Woman #Love #Compatibility

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sierrabrewerxo · 7 years

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50 Facts About Myself

so i want people to know more about the girl behind this account.. i figured this would be an easy start to that..

01. I was born Monday May 12, 1997.. Which makes myself a Taurus!

02. I stand comfortably at 5′2

03. I have been in one relationship, and was very madly in love..

04. I attended cosmetology school fresh out of high school. I tested out and earned my official license last year.

05. Although I finished cosmetology school, I do not believe it is something I want to do as a career at this moment in my life. I am kind of intrigued by an office type job at this moment.

06. I am not a picky eater in the slightest. But I am strange in the fact that I only enjoy chocolate on occasion and I am not a big fan of pizza.

07. My all time favorite foods include mexican food, bacon cheeseburgers, and french fries.

08. When I turned the age of really getting to choose what I wanted for my birthday. I started to ask for pie instead of cake. Which has been going on for many years.

09. I have a little demon named Violet [coming from the fact that when I got her as a kitten, her eyes were a purple color. but they are now a bright green.] and an adorable little fluff ball named Thor [no special story to this, my mom named her!]

10. When I have always thought about my future, I have a son and a daughter. My son being the oldest of the two. It’s been that way for as long as I can remember.

11. I am trying to build my way up so I can move to Texas. There is nothing there for me, just something in me that is drawn towards it. I truly believe in my heart that I have gained all I can from where I live and would like to expand my horizons somewhere else.

12. I have a beanie baby that I have had since I was two years old. I had the exact one before and lost it in Walmart when I was little. I wouldn’t stop crying so my mom went hunting for a new one. I have had that one ever since, a safety blanket type of thing.

13. I’m very old fashioned when it comes to love. I love the idea of just doing everything you can for that person, because they’re your world and you want them to be happy and know they are loved. But that love always needs to be returned, relationships should never be one sided. They are your best friend and they are there for you, that should never be forgotten.

14. I absolutely loooove sour gummy worms!

15. I am completely mesmerized in astrology and greek mythology. I am also intrigued by the world of tarot cards, stones, and all those magical things deep within the mind and soul.

16. Part of me always wishes that I never colored my hair. I have been brunette, red, blonde, black, and some long pink mermaid hair too! I did have fun and enjoy all the colors. I do believe though, as I’m getting older, that there is nothing wrong with what you were born with. I was very bored with the fact that all of my features looked the same. ashy brown hair, ashy brown eyebrows, and basic brown eyes. I felt very plain. But now that I’m older I have learned I am far from it..

17. It wasn’t until recently, from my family, that I learned although I am a shy person, I don’t shy away from a lot. I am a girl that likes straight answers, it’s tough but it goes a long way. I am also a girl that does her own thing [wearing what I want to wear, trying out new hair, and just doing things that intrigue me]

18. I love spring and summer simply because the outfits I get to wear! The shorts, maxi skirts, maxi dresses, summer dresses, and sandals!

19. I actually prefer Marvel movies over DC. Spiderman, Daredevil, and Elektra being my all time favorites when I was a little girl.

I feel like this next one should be something special.. let me think...

20. I have always wanted to go to a music festival. which is weird and special to me, because I am not big on going to concerts. only going to three concerts in my life.

21. My favorite Disney Princess movies are Aladdin and The Little Mermaid. My favorite Disney movie being The Lion King.

22. Something in me wants to start a YouTube channel, but I don’t know what content I would upload.

23. Although I love cheeseburgers, I have a ginormous soft spot in my heart for all animals. I hope one day to really stick to a way to not eat animals. I have done well in the ways of not using products that test on animals, but I would like to expand that to volunteering and so on.

24. I have always wanted to explore Europe. Spending a lot of my time in Greece and Italy. I have always wanted to travel the whole world and gain as much knowledge as I can. But Europe would definitely be my starting point.

25. I do not a specific genre of music that I like, but I do have my favorite artists. ACDC, Led Zeppelin, and The Chainsmokers being at the top of that list.

26. I do not have any strong religious beliefs, but I do not disregard others beliefs. everyone’s life is their own. Part of me does believe though that there is a form of afterlife.

27. I love the smell of sweet perfumes, candles, and body sprays.. vanilla, cotton candy, caramel etc. But when it comes to my body wash I enjoy the more earthly smell.

28. I have been on a shopping hunt for overalls for about three or four years now, and still haven’t found the right pair.

29. I did not know my ring size until the end of last year.

30. I have only shared my middle name with the people I have been closest to. my best friend from third grade [still one of my closest friends to this day], my best friend from 5th grade, my best friend from 7th grade, and my former boyfriend. To me, it is something that shows I confide in you and that I trust you.

31. My favorite thing about carnivals, fairs, etc. has always been the fact that the corn dogs and cotton candy.

32. I am not a big soda drinker.. My preferences include coffee, sweet iced tea, and lemonade. My favorite drink from Starbucks lately being an iced green tea latte with soy milk.

33. I am currently working as a sales associate at Charlotte Russe and am enjoying it, my coworkers being the best part of my job.

34. My first job was when I was 16 at a part gas station part firework stand. It was a seasonal job I did for three summers. Hardly uttering three words my first summer there [I worked for about two or three weeks] to gaining an amazing group of people my second year [met former boyfriend this summer. can always share a story if wished] My third summer being a veteran and again loving the company of my coworkers, amazing people. I really came out from my shell that summer.

35. I considered my second job cosmetology school. They were eight hour days, beginning in a class and then making your way to actual clients three months later. So for eight months or so, I worked on clients for eight hours of the day, earning some tip money, and learning to stand my own.

36. My favorite sport is actually hockey. I love seeing it in person though, the chill in the air and the fights. I just love it. I have been to two hockey games in the past few years. One being a Mavericks game and the other being a St. Louis Blues game.

37. I am a girl that focuses on visual and detailed work. Some girls in college suggested I be an interior designer or a wedding planner instead.

38. I have never broken a bone, had braces, or needed glasses.

39. I am quite an accident prone girl, my list going on and on.. damage to wood fixtures due to nail polish remover and wall plug ins.. spraying pepper spray while in the house.. accidentally flooding our wash machine twice, causing our ceiling in the garage to give out the first time.. getting my head stuck in my bed frame., and falling off some weird shelves at the supermarket, being rushed to the hospital.. the story goes that the shelves were removed that same week.

okay, final ones, let’s see what I can think up for you..

40. I am from good ol’ Missouri!!

41. I father is originally from North Carolina and my mom from Missouri. They met in high school, my dad moving here when he was young. If my memory serves me correctly, my dad proposed in my mom’s bedroom on Christmas Eve. They’ll be married 22 years this year. The way they treat each other gives me such high expectations for my future relationship.

42. I have one older sister! It’s just the two of us weirdos.

43. I got into my first car accident a month after I got my license. I was t-boned by another lady and my car was totaled. It was a situation where I knew what was going to happen before I could stop it.

44. I am a girl who will stow her crap and say she’s fine even in the rare times she is crying. But I always become emotionally invested in the people in my life. I do everything I can for them and always make sure they’re at peace with themselves. It is both a wonderful trait and a curse. Feeling happy when I make the ones I love feel better, but not really knowing what I did wrong when they leave.

45. I absolutely love fruit, grapes and pineapples being my favorite.. cucumbers and tomatoes being my favorite in the vegetable group.

46. I own a keyblade replica of the kingdom key from the Kingdom Hearts video game. I used to play the game endlessly when I was younger.

47. I was in Color Guard for three years while I was in school but always wondered what I would be like as a cheerleader.. doing many years of gymnastics when I was young.

48. I seem to have a type for tall guys with bright eyes and brown hair.. and i definitely don’t mind some facial hair.

49. I have no other forms of social media as of the beginning of 2017.

50. I am a nocturnal human being. always up in the late hours of the night... or early hours of the morning.. however you want to look at it

#personal

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