Crowds wait for their Communion, a sample of Rose wine.
Lines of people wait to shake hands with the Chip and Pin device.
Songs that once had meaning are now background noise.
God Bless the inventors of the Internet. For saving me from murdering swathes of shoppers with eyes blinkered. Seeing only what they might buy that they don't need, cutting out all surrounding humanity, etiquette and common sense. Christmas shouldn't make me as bloodthirsty as this!
Just imagine a silent night. Away from the crowds. With all you want to give your nearest and dearest dropping onto the mat in the morning. Courtesy of the champion postman. The new Santa Claus.
Friday 19 November 2010
Thursday 18 November 2010
it's late
Yup.. it's late.
For the first ish time in a while I'm writing on here stuff I haven't written out vaguely in my notebook in advance. Straight from the brain folks, straight from the brain.. through the fingers.
I'm tired. Overnights and days, day off today, most of which i have been helping other people through their situations, and messing about making xmas presents. When I should have been recuperating for work. ah well.. hopefully it will all be fine. Im tired. Not tired enough for bed. Too much to do to go to bed. Need to clear stuff off it for a start. then go boil the kettle for the hot waterbottle so I can sleep because its not TOO cold anymore. Brushy Teeths. Needs to do that. Have been eating toblerone. Naughty. Need to replace things on the Ipod.. will do that now. Listening to two harry potter CDs, the same two, as I fall asleep for the last few months from sheer laziness did not help us win the harry potter quiz yesterday. The SHAME. First Harry Potter quiz Ive ever done that I havent won. To be fair.. Im not great at anagrams, and that was one round. Potions... well. Who wouldnt want to be in detention with Snape for not doing so well? grr.. still grates. I wanted to WIN.
There you go. Some whatever its called writing... precognative? The one where you just blurt thoughts without thinking.. that one. Missing my story now arentcha?
For the first ish time in a while I'm writing on here stuff I haven't written out vaguely in my notebook in advance. Straight from the brain folks, straight from the brain.. through the fingers.
I'm tired. Overnights and days, day off today, most of which i have been helping other people through their situations, and messing about making xmas presents. When I should have been recuperating for work. ah well.. hopefully it will all be fine. Im tired. Not tired enough for bed. Too much to do to go to bed. Need to clear stuff off it for a start. then go boil the kettle for the hot waterbottle so I can sleep because its not TOO cold anymore. Brushy Teeths. Needs to do that. Have been eating toblerone. Naughty. Need to replace things on the Ipod.. will do that now. Listening to two harry potter CDs, the same two, as I fall asleep for the last few months from sheer laziness did not help us win the harry potter quiz yesterday. The SHAME. First Harry Potter quiz Ive ever done that I havent won. To be fair.. Im not great at anagrams, and that was one round. Potions... well. Who wouldnt want to be in detention with Snape for not doing so well? grr.. still grates. I wanted to WIN.
There you go. Some whatever its called writing... precognative? The one where you just blurt thoughts without thinking.. that one. Missing my story now arentcha?
Friday 12 November 2010
Part Five.. the end
Beckoning the pair on, the group of metal men, added to by the footballer, walk on. Heading away from the rhythmic beat of the stadium they return to the crowded streets, filled with people so fixed they seemed to have become their own gravestones. Walking through the maze of humans they pass by a coffee shop, the women pausing, both addicts. The apparent leader of the metal men looks over to them.
"Why are you stopping?"
The women look longingly through the darkened glass of the door, then back to their statue.
"Could we stop here a moment? Just to grab a drink?" Asks the one with, a soft note of pleading in her voice.
"We would just be a minute.. hopefully" adds the one without.
"Drink?" The statue's face worked into a vaguely puzzled expression.
Simultaneously the pair do the same mime of drinking, and their companions roar with laughter.
"Ahh.." The first statue looks up at the sky, as if gauging the time by the light remaining in it. "Very well, but be swift."
The two push the door open, and head inside before the realisation hits them, their eyes falling on those behind the counter... who was going to make the coffee?
"We could have filter.." murmurs the one without as a series of low clunks behind them signalled each of their guides pressing their faces against the glass of the window, peering in at them.
Moving forward, mindful of the statue's request for them to hurry, they step around the static queue, and around the counter. Looking around and maneuvering between the barristas they look at the coffee machine in a whole new light. The gurgle of the peculator continued as they searched to find what they needed to make their drinks.
"No soy latte today then." Joked the one with, just as a burst of steam issued from the large and complex machine on the counter, making them jump. It's copper surface gleaming in the artificial light, the human tendency to search for faces in all things showed the pair nothing, but this machine was none-the-less currently alive.
Reaching tentatively they fill jugs with milk and soy, pushing them toward the machine, it's tubes and pipes stretch and grasp the jugs, it's lights flashing in sequence, dials turn, switches flip and buttons pop in and out as the machine sputters and gurgles. Filling the takeaway cups with their perfectly heated drinks they reach over the outstretched hand of the barrista and drop money into the open draw of the till. Making their way out of the shop they sip from cups adorned with mermaids using their tails to flap and fan themselves in the heat.
Continuing on down the main street with more purpose than ever after this delay, the metal guides lead them faster, the noise of their heavy feet echoing off walls and stony shoppers. Turning a corner they face the cathedral, the living bells clanging in the tower calling a new congregation to service as their unusual group, in surroundings both familiar and surreal, join the crowd before the doors. The ironwork on the heavy ancient wood twisted and unfurled new scrolls, curling and melding together before growing again apart as the doors swing open, candlelight flooding the waiting faces of stone, metal and skin.
Entering from the twilight the crowd spills forward, filling the cathedral with bodies of such different sizes, colours and materials. Some sit carefully in the pews while others, too large to fit, remain standing. All waiting with palpable anticipation, though they had no breath to hold.
Softly at first, a low hum builds into music, growing louder, a tune swelling from the organ with no organist, joined by a choir of voices, not from the congregation, but from the cathedral itself. Voices from all around, baritones and tenors, the notes pouring from mouths of stony saints, castraltos from the wooden carved cherubim of the choir screen. The beautiful cacophony of the refrain was joined by altos and sopranos from the stained glass, as the congregation themselves began to sing. They sang of their creation, of forms emerging from ore, from stone, from wood. The emotion from each artist having flowed into their works through each chisel, mallet and brush. The one with and the one without watch and listen in awe as the singing continues, carved plants and fruit on the pews growing and blooming in delight as the eagle of the lectern stretches it's wings, the gold flashing dazzlingly in the candlelight...
The small group from the monument by the station led the pair back the way they had come, back to their own homes on the plinth. Carefully each shook each hand, flesh and bone clasped in living metal. They climb back to their places without a word, just a knowing glance as they resume their old positions. The last rays of light sliding from the face of the winking smiling sun atop the insurance building take all it's radiance and life. As the last strains of music from the cathedral are drowned by traffic noise the pair are jostled by a passerby in a hurry. Looking to each other and up to the statues they link arms and smile at their erstwhile guides and turn to walk away, the one without muttering..
"Next time, I'm bringing my damn camera.."
"Why are you stopping?"
The women look longingly through the darkened glass of the door, then back to their statue.
"Could we stop here a moment? Just to grab a drink?" Asks the one with, a soft note of pleading in her voice.
"We would just be a minute.. hopefully" adds the one without.
"Drink?" The statue's face worked into a vaguely puzzled expression.
Simultaneously the pair do the same mime of drinking, and their companions roar with laughter.
"Ahh.." The first statue looks up at the sky, as if gauging the time by the light remaining in it. "Very well, but be swift."
The two push the door open, and head inside before the realisation hits them, their eyes falling on those behind the counter... who was going to make the coffee?
"We could have filter.." murmurs the one without as a series of low clunks behind them signalled each of their guides pressing their faces against the glass of the window, peering in at them.
Moving forward, mindful of the statue's request for them to hurry, they step around the static queue, and around the counter. Looking around and maneuvering between the barristas they look at the coffee machine in a whole new light. The gurgle of the peculator continued as they searched to find what they needed to make their drinks.
"No soy latte today then." Joked the one with, just as a burst of steam issued from the large and complex machine on the counter, making them jump. It's copper surface gleaming in the artificial light, the human tendency to search for faces in all things showed the pair nothing, but this machine was none-the-less currently alive.
Reaching tentatively they fill jugs with milk and soy, pushing them toward the machine, it's tubes and pipes stretch and grasp the jugs, it's lights flashing in sequence, dials turn, switches flip and buttons pop in and out as the machine sputters and gurgles. Filling the takeaway cups with their perfectly heated drinks they reach over the outstretched hand of the barrista and drop money into the open draw of the till. Making their way out of the shop they sip from cups adorned with mermaids using their tails to flap and fan themselves in the heat.
Continuing on down the main street with more purpose than ever after this delay, the metal guides lead them faster, the noise of their heavy feet echoing off walls and stony shoppers. Turning a corner they face the cathedral, the living bells clanging in the tower calling a new congregation to service as their unusual group, in surroundings both familiar and surreal, join the crowd before the doors. The ironwork on the heavy ancient wood twisted and unfurled new scrolls, curling and melding together before growing again apart as the doors swing open, candlelight flooding the waiting faces of stone, metal and skin.
Entering from the twilight the crowd spills forward, filling the cathedral with bodies of such different sizes, colours and materials. Some sit carefully in the pews while others, too large to fit, remain standing. All waiting with palpable anticipation, though they had no breath to hold.
Softly at first, a low hum builds into music, growing louder, a tune swelling from the organ with no organist, joined by a choir of voices, not from the congregation, but from the cathedral itself. Voices from all around, baritones and tenors, the notes pouring from mouths of stony saints, castraltos from the wooden carved cherubim of the choir screen. The beautiful cacophony of the refrain was joined by altos and sopranos from the stained glass, as the congregation themselves began to sing. They sang of their creation, of forms emerging from ore, from stone, from wood. The emotion from each artist having flowed into their works through each chisel, mallet and brush. The one with and the one without watch and listen in awe as the singing continues, carved plants and fruit on the pews growing and blooming in delight as the eagle of the lectern stretches it's wings, the gold flashing dazzlingly in the candlelight...
The small group from the monument by the station led the pair back the way they had come, back to their own homes on the plinth. Carefully each shook each hand, flesh and bone clasped in living metal. They climb back to their places without a word, just a knowing glance as they resume their old positions. The last rays of light sliding from the face of the winking smiling sun atop the insurance building take all it's radiance and life. As the last strains of music from the cathedral are drowned by traffic noise the pair are jostled by a passerby in a hurry. Looking to each other and up to the statues they link arms and smile at their erstwhile guides and turn to walk away, the one without muttering..
"Next time, I'm bringing my damn camera.."
Sunday 31 October 2010
Part four - its my birthday, so be nice.
Walking up through the streets the odd group weaves in and out of the forest of immovable bodies. Some with limbs entwined at the elbow, or with fingers linked in their own untieable knot, bound together far more firmly than they could have imagined.
Passing a charity shop, the window display dances, the no longer needed, but once much loved wedding gown, it's beaded bodice shimmering with movement, small pearl beads twitching as the crafted designs, sewn into place with such care, flow along their threads, encased but unconstrained as the gown and suit waltz again behind the glass.
The metal men beckon the pair on as the one with stops to take pictures of the dance. Catching a glimpse of the one without's shoulder as she turns back to take another look, the tattoo there moving more than the motion of her turn would suggest.
"Wait!" calls the one with, stepping behind her friend and pulling at the material of her shirt, exposing more of the inked design on her skin.
"Look!" she cries, finding yet more amazement in this latest revelation. The inked crows and magpies caught in flight that adorned the back of the one without were now flapping their wings and staring back with bright eyes, full of life as they swooped and flew across the skin of their sky. Straining her neck she struggles to see the artwork so painfully gained now flowing so smoothly.
Their metal guides pause, looking for themselves at this new phenomenon, the discovery of the two. Clearly this was not something they had seen before, nor ever expected.
Moving on now with purpose, a low grinding noise pervades the air, subtle and rhythmic. Heading higher into the town, past shops crammed with the solid human forms, caught up in their shopping and in themselves. So busy, so silent, only the beat of metallic noise that was growing louder at each step.
Rounding the corner they come upon the road to the football ground. The statue in bronze of the best and most loved player of old, moved here to the obscurity of the access road after a home on the main street of the town led to the expense of replacing the ball almost weekly after visits from drunken souvenir hunters. The favoured man only met the crowds now on matchdays, and was left to the security of loneliness for the rest of the week.
The hero of so many matches grinned as he leapt down from the plinth, light on his bronze feet, catching up the heavy ball and headding it with a resounding clang. The old restrained movements of the veteran player doing keepy-ups, each contact with the ball a thud, a ring from an old bell, an addition to the ever louder grinding metallic crunch that was filling the air.
Catching the ball he grins, nodding in the direction of the football ground itself. The pair turn, following the direction of his gaze, looking over the heads of their guides to the huge looming structure. The stands, their metal ribcage dominating the skyline throughout the town. As the day shifted toward twilight, lights flared on for a match, illuminating the source of the constant noise. The metal beams that made the ground so recognisable were stretching, breathing, reaching up into the sky in celebration of existence, concertinaing in on themselves as the women watched, agape, the heartbeat of the city.
Passing a charity shop, the window display dances, the no longer needed, but once much loved wedding gown, it's beaded bodice shimmering with movement, small pearl beads twitching as the crafted designs, sewn into place with such care, flow along their threads, encased but unconstrained as the gown and suit waltz again behind the glass.
The metal men beckon the pair on as the one with stops to take pictures of the dance. Catching a glimpse of the one without's shoulder as she turns back to take another look, the tattoo there moving more than the motion of her turn would suggest.
"Wait!" calls the one with, stepping behind her friend and pulling at the material of her shirt, exposing more of the inked design on her skin.
"Look!" she cries, finding yet more amazement in this latest revelation. The inked crows and magpies caught in flight that adorned the back of the one without were now flapping their wings and staring back with bright eyes, full of life as they swooped and flew across the skin of their sky. Straining her neck she struggles to see the artwork so painfully gained now flowing so smoothly.
Their metal guides pause, looking for themselves at this new phenomenon, the discovery of the two. Clearly this was not something they had seen before, nor ever expected.
Moving on now with purpose, a low grinding noise pervades the air, subtle and rhythmic. Heading higher into the town, past shops crammed with the solid human forms, caught up in their shopping and in themselves. So busy, so silent, only the beat of metallic noise that was growing louder at each step.
Rounding the corner they come upon the road to the football ground. The statue in bronze of the best and most loved player of old, moved here to the obscurity of the access road after a home on the main street of the town led to the expense of replacing the ball almost weekly after visits from drunken souvenir hunters. The favoured man only met the crowds now on matchdays, and was left to the security of loneliness for the rest of the week.
The hero of so many matches grinned as he leapt down from the plinth, light on his bronze feet, catching up the heavy ball and headding it with a resounding clang. The old restrained movements of the veteran player doing keepy-ups, each contact with the ball a thud, a ring from an old bell, an addition to the ever louder grinding metallic crunch that was filling the air.
Catching the ball he grins, nodding in the direction of the football ground itself. The pair turn, following the direction of his gaze, looking over the heads of their guides to the huge looming structure. The stands, their metal ribcage dominating the skyline throughout the town. As the day shifted toward twilight, lights flared on for a match, illuminating the source of the constant noise. The metal beams that made the ground so recognisable were stretching, breathing, reaching up into the sky in celebration of existence, concertinaing in on themselves as the women watched, agape, the heartbeat of the city.
Monday 25 October 2010
Part three.. told you Id get to it.
The statues lead the pair through the streets, winding their heavy footed way between the bodies of the living, frozen in place. Pausing, the metal men gawped at their fleshy counterparts. Aping their expressions and poses, in a manner so familiar to the two's own experience that the first wave of shock at their situation began to subside.
Reaching out, they touch the faces of the living, their skin still warm, though as much from the the sun now as as from their own heat. Their skin soft, but solid, no give. Now fleshtoned marble, granite, bronze. Looking around at their impossible hosts, their greenish faces showed no sign of surprise at the women's reactions, merely amusement.
The low griding voice rumbled into speech again as he elbowed his fellow with a dull thud. "Anyone would think they hadn't seen statues before."
A low chuckle fell from the mouths of the metal men as they start to move on again, beckoning to the only humans capable of following.
Follow they do, away from the station toward some of the stranger statues in town. The three larger than life men, one usually propped improbably on one elbow, his entire weight supported and held up on the joint. He was now sitting on his plinth, his two companions bent to console him as he nursed his swollen arm. Crying out in pain as he straightened the limb, a soft cloud of concrete dust carrying with the shout from his mouth to swirl away in the breeze.
Shaking their heads, the metal men gesture the women to follow. The one without pushing her camera deeper into her bag. Neither of them wanted to remember the agony on the created face, neither would have needed a photograph to help them. Some things become etched that quickly.
Seeing the faces of their guests fall the metal men reach out their hands and gently press them forward. As they walk, the carvings on the buildings ripple, carved waves flowing along pediments, casting up stretching starfish and scallops snapping in their living stone, tumbling back into the solid yet ever shifting sea. Gently but firmly their metallic guides led them on, up through the town. Past buildings with plaster busts arguing and chatting, and casting judgement on the appearance of those standing below.
Reaching out, they touch the faces of the living, their skin still warm, though as much from the the sun now as as from their own heat. Their skin soft, but solid, no give. Now fleshtoned marble, granite, bronze. Looking around at their impossible hosts, their greenish faces showed no sign of surprise at the women's reactions, merely amusement.
The low griding voice rumbled into speech again as he elbowed his fellow with a dull thud. "Anyone would think they hadn't seen statues before."
A low chuckle fell from the mouths of the metal men as they start to move on again, beckoning to the only humans capable of following.
Follow they do, away from the station toward some of the stranger statues in town. The three larger than life men, one usually propped improbably on one elbow, his entire weight supported and held up on the joint. He was now sitting on his plinth, his two companions bent to console him as he nursed his swollen arm. Crying out in pain as he straightened the limb, a soft cloud of concrete dust carrying with the shout from his mouth to swirl away in the breeze.
Shaking their heads, the metal men gesture the women to follow. The one without pushing her camera deeper into her bag. Neither of them wanted to remember the agony on the created face, neither would have needed a photograph to help them. Some things become etched that quickly.
Seeing the faces of their guests fall the metal men reach out their hands and gently press them forward. As they walk, the carvings on the buildings ripple, carved waves flowing along pediments, casting up stretching starfish and scallops snapping in their living stone, tumbling back into the solid yet ever shifting sea. Gently but firmly their metallic guides led them on, up through the town. Past buildings with plaster busts arguing and chatting, and casting judgement on the appearance of those standing below.
still not it..
Nope, still not it. But I had to share this from the book I am reading, to make you thankful for modern medicine.
There is no mention of what this very real French remedy of the 1500's was for, but it states..
Take 2 new-born puppies, 1 pound of earthwortms, 2 pounds of lillies, 16 ounces of Venice turpentine, 1 ounce aqua vitae.
Boil the puppies (alive) in the oil. Add the worms which have been drowned in white wine. Boil and strain. Add the other ingredients.
I think we can all agree, mean and ew.
Oh, and I did wake up in time for work today. I woke up at least 6 times. Each time thinking I was late. I know I woke up from four separate dreams in which I was already doing the work I was waking up to be late for. I dislike early mornings. Although the sky was very pretty.
There is no mention of what this very real French remedy of the 1500's was for, but it states..
Take 2 new-born puppies, 1 pound of earthwortms, 2 pounds of lillies, 16 ounces of Venice turpentine, 1 ounce aqua vitae.
Boil the puppies (alive) in the oil. Add the worms which have been drowned in white wine. Boil and strain. Add the other ingredients.
I think we can all agree, mean and ew.
Oh, and I did wake up in time for work today. I woke up at least 6 times. Each time thinking I was late. I know I woke up from four separate dreams in which I was already doing the work I was waking up to be late for. I dislike early mornings. Although the sky was very pretty.
Sunday 24 October 2010
...
no next bit of the story yet... I will get to it... promise
Theres just a fair bit of dizziness around at the moment...
A certain building where I work decided to vibrate all day saturday, and that does me a lot more harm than good.
There is an 8am start tomorrow in what had been a day off... Im continually told to think of the money - and I'm trying.
I need my bloody left contact lens sorted as its buggering up, slightly blurry is no fun for me.
Theres a massive tidy needs done. Working, I dont have the luxury of having enough days after an epic to recover, and piecemeal I'm getting nowhere.. slowly. Perhaps after the opticians on thursday... then I have till Monday at least to recover.. although that time frame does include two birthdays.. one of which is my own.
I'll think on things tomorrow.. I'll see where things are going. Once I've woken up that is.. 8am.. ffs...
Theres just a fair bit of dizziness around at the moment...
A certain building where I work decided to vibrate all day saturday, and that does me a lot more harm than good.
There is an 8am start tomorrow in what had been a day off... Im continually told to think of the money - and I'm trying.
I need my bloody left contact lens sorted as its buggering up, slightly blurry is no fun for me.
Theres a massive tidy needs done. Working, I dont have the luxury of having enough days after an epic to recover, and piecemeal I'm getting nowhere.. slowly. Perhaps after the opticians on thursday... then I have till Monday at least to recover.. although that time frame does include two birthdays.. one of which is my own.
I'll think on things tomorrow.. I'll see where things are going. Once I've woken up that is.. 8am.. ffs...
Tuesday 19 October 2010
Part two
Leaning closer into her hug of the statue, the one without moves to press a kiss to it's cheek. As her lips brush the cold of the metal, reality shifts, and so does her statue seat, and metal lips, chapped with veridgris, press a kiss to her cheek in return.
The one with jumps as her statuesque seat also moves, stretching and uncrossing his legs. The pair look at each other, fighting back screams, seeing in each other's eyes that they are suffering from the same hallucination, or are falling down the same rabbit hole.
Looking from each other to their surroundings, by instinct they are stilled, despite the natural reaction to jump up and run away wailing when the thing you were sitting on comes to life. Besides.. where would they run to now? The world around them had changed beyond any normal recognition.
The few people who had been walking nearby were far from gone, they were rooted to the spot, their motion halted, some mid-step, legs now jutting, oddly bent in the air, as solid as oak, as still as statues... if the statues themselves were not now moving.
With a single touch, the two dumbstruck women were transformed into little girls by the terror and magic of the situation. Lifted from their seats on the statues' laps they were set down gently by hands much larger than any in life.
Reaching out to grasp onto each other, both friends' hands met with a touch colder than human flesh. In this world, it would seem that life as they knew it, was unheard of.
Lifting cold fingertips to press against the even colder spot on her cheek where the statue's lips had touched, the one without looks up into the now mobile and expressive face of the statue and stammers... "H..how?"
Gripping tightly to her friends hand, the one with's face clearly but silently echos the question.
A slow smile spreads acropss the lips of the two statues as they clamber down from their stone seats, their own eyes meeting with great amusement as they are joined by their fellows from the other corners of the monument.
A loud, earth shattering crash resounds as the largest figure atop the plinth jumps to earth. Straightening slowly he speaks in a low rumble of a voice, like pistons in heavy machinery, groaning into life after long neglect..
"You have seen glimpses of our world... we have observed this. Now, you shall see all we can show"
Turning, the statues beckon the pair to follow. Still gripping hands, the one with scoops up her bag and camera, the one without's gaze falling on the cracked and broken paving slab where the statue landed. Squeezing her friends hand she murmurs as they hurry after the statues "Do you suppose that's how they all get broken?"
The one with jumps as her statuesque seat also moves, stretching and uncrossing his legs. The pair look at each other, fighting back screams, seeing in each other's eyes that they are suffering from the same hallucination, or are falling down the same rabbit hole.
Looking from each other to their surroundings, by instinct they are stilled, despite the natural reaction to jump up and run away wailing when the thing you were sitting on comes to life. Besides.. where would they run to now? The world around them had changed beyond any normal recognition.
The few people who had been walking nearby were far from gone, they were rooted to the spot, their motion halted, some mid-step, legs now jutting, oddly bent in the air, as solid as oak, as still as statues... if the statues themselves were not now moving.
With a single touch, the two dumbstruck women were transformed into little girls by the terror and magic of the situation. Lifted from their seats on the statues' laps they were set down gently by hands much larger than any in life.
Reaching out to grasp onto each other, both friends' hands met with a touch colder than human flesh. In this world, it would seem that life as they knew it, was unheard of.
Lifting cold fingertips to press against the even colder spot on her cheek where the statue's lips had touched, the one without looks up into the now mobile and expressive face of the statue and stammers... "H..how?"
Gripping tightly to her friends hand, the one with's face clearly but silently echos the question.
A slow smile spreads acropss the lips of the two statues as they clamber down from their stone seats, their own eyes meeting with great amusement as they are joined by their fellows from the other corners of the monument.
A loud, earth shattering crash resounds as the largest figure atop the plinth jumps to earth. Straightening slowly he speaks in a low rumble of a voice, like pistons in heavy machinery, groaning into life after long neglect..
"You have seen glimpses of our world... we have observed this. Now, you shall see all we can show"
Turning, the statues beckon the pair to follow. Still gripping hands, the one with scoops up her bag and camera, the one without's gaze falling on the cracked and broken paving slab where the statue landed. Squeezing her friends hand she murmurs as they hurry after the statues "Do you suppose that's how they all get broken?"
Sunday 17 October 2010
Summat else...
"Damn..."
"Hello.?."
"Oh! Hello there... Look. I'm terribly sorry, I seem to have stepped in something here."
"Stepped in something?"
"Yes... Something.. sticky. Oh goodness, it's all over my foot!"
"All over your foot you say? Oh dear, that must be inconvenient."
"Oh inconvenient yes, not to mention embarrassing! You just wouldn't credit it, I come through here, its such a nice place, and something like this has to happen."
"I really wouldn't worry about it my dear fellow, such things happen all the time."
"All the time? In here? You amaze me."
"Oh yes, all the time. You have nothing to be embarrassed about I assure you."
"Well then, that's something at least. Do you work here?"
"Work here?"
"Do you?"
"My dear fellow, I designed this place."
*sighs*
"You see? I will embarrass myself one way or another. Did you really design this place? It is simply magnificent you know.. stickiness aside. I am terribly sorry, should I know your name? Are you famous?"
"Very kind of you to say so.. but if you will excuse me.. I'm running late for my lunch."
"Oh please? Just a few moments! The design is so incredible.. your use of form and structure.. it is surely unsurpassed, I have never seen it's equal! Can't you tell me where you find your inspiration?"
"Well... "
"Please?"
*sighs*
"It is all about the function my dear chap, the form follows the function. My work is always, always functional, and as you can see, it's form is pleasing, and it functions well."
"Oh! Yes! Yes... ah.. indeed. Unparalleled beauty in functional form... but... can you just tell me about th..."
*A muffled cry... a soft squeak... and the spider trusses the fly up in silk before crawling back to the centre of it's web.*
"Hello.?."
"Oh! Hello there... Look. I'm terribly sorry, I seem to have stepped in something here."
"Stepped in something?"
"Yes... Something.. sticky. Oh goodness, it's all over my foot!"
"All over your foot you say? Oh dear, that must be inconvenient."
"Oh inconvenient yes, not to mention embarrassing! You just wouldn't credit it, I come through here, its such a nice place, and something like this has to happen."
"I really wouldn't worry about it my dear fellow, such things happen all the time."
"All the time? In here? You amaze me."
"Oh yes, all the time. You have nothing to be embarrassed about I assure you."
"Well then, that's something at least. Do you work here?"
"Work here?"
"Do you?"
"My dear fellow, I designed this place."
*sighs*
"You see? I will embarrass myself one way or another. Did you really design this place? It is simply magnificent you know.. stickiness aside. I am terribly sorry, should I know your name? Are you famous?"
"Very kind of you to say so.. but if you will excuse me.. I'm running late for my lunch."
"Oh please? Just a few moments! The design is so incredible.. your use of form and structure.. it is surely unsurpassed, I have never seen it's equal! Can't you tell me where you find your inspiration?"
"Well... "
"Please?"
*sighs*
"It is all about the function my dear chap, the form follows the function. My work is always, always functional, and as you can see, it's form is pleasing, and it functions well."
"Oh! Yes! Yes... ah.. indeed. Unparalleled beauty in functional form... but... can you just tell me about th..."
*A muffled cry... a soft squeak... and the spider trusses the fly up in silk before crawling back to the centre of it's web.*
Tuesday 12 October 2010
A story, inspired by a day with my B. Part 1.
The two friends had been out, walking, talking. One taking photographs, the other having left her camera at home. A shared passion, photographs. Both loving the unexpected beauty in the carved, the unlooked for, the unloved, the unintended.
Crossing the busy road from the shell of the building being eaten away by time and the march for progress, for more housing that would be hard for most to afford, for more shops few would visit, for offices while so many lay abandoned in the rest of the city, their concrete and glass no longer en-vogue. They walked towards the monument, adorned with statues of great men of the past. Perhaps once an awe inspiring roundabout, admired by those in horse and carriage on their way to and from the grandest railway station in the country. Celebrating the modern, the innovative, the new, now consigned to verdigris,traffic fumes and grafitti. Out of place, but immovable, a thing in the way, to be driven around with care as it blocked the view of oncoming traffic. An obstacle.
The two stop, dumping their bags on the lowest step, looking up at the statues, blinking against the rays of the sun shining past them.
"I've always wanted to climb up there and sit on the knee of one of them.." she pauses, grinning "Yanno, just sit there. see if anyone notices."
The other grins back and climbs the first step, the first hopping up after, the pair of them looking at the height of the next step.
"Second thoughts.. I'm not sure I can jump up there without falling off."
The girl with the camera, looks quizzically at the step, then around. The girl without does likewise, partners in some semi-imagined crime, already looking around for police who may not think the game so fun.
"Go on!" encouraged the girl without as the other rested her hands behind her on the ledge, nonchallantly, nothing to see here.. then she pulls herself up and gives the statue nearest her a hug, as the girl without reaches for her friends camera, fumbling with the flash to counter the low autumnal rays of brilliance from behind the monument..
Giggling, she wraps the camera back in its case and drops it into her friend's bag, looking around to check none of the few passers by had any hats or stabvests she scrambles up beside the statue on the other corner, turning to sit on the lap of the once shiny copper man, the friends grin and wave at each other. In itself, their enjoyment another degredation of the monument, of the great men's achievements. Did the statues mind? Did they care? Did they know?
It would seem not, that they did.. and oh, most certainly.
Crossing the busy road from the shell of the building being eaten away by time and the march for progress, for more housing that would be hard for most to afford, for more shops few would visit, for offices while so many lay abandoned in the rest of the city, their concrete and glass no longer en-vogue. They walked towards the monument, adorned with statues of great men of the past. Perhaps once an awe inspiring roundabout, admired by those in horse and carriage on their way to and from the grandest railway station in the country. Celebrating the modern, the innovative, the new, now consigned to verdigris,traffic fumes and grafitti. Out of place, but immovable, a thing in the way, to be driven around with care as it blocked the view of oncoming traffic. An obstacle.
The two stop, dumping their bags on the lowest step, looking up at the statues, blinking against the rays of the sun shining past them.
"I've always wanted to climb up there and sit on the knee of one of them.." she pauses, grinning "Yanno, just sit there. see if anyone notices."
The other grins back and climbs the first step, the first hopping up after, the pair of them looking at the height of the next step.
"Second thoughts.. I'm not sure I can jump up there without falling off."
The girl with the camera, looks quizzically at the step, then around. The girl without does likewise, partners in some semi-imagined crime, already looking around for police who may not think the game so fun.
"Go on!" encouraged the girl without as the other rested her hands behind her on the ledge, nonchallantly, nothing to see here.. then she pulls herself up and gives the statue nearest her a hug, as the girl without reaches for her friends camera, fumbling with the flash to counter the low autumnal rays of brilliance from behind the monument..
Giggling, she wraps the camera back in its case and drops it into her friend's bag, looking around to check none of the few passers by had any hats or stabvests she scrambles up beside the statue on the other corner, turning to sit on the lap of the once shiny copper man, the friends grin and wave at each other. In itself, their enjoyment another degredation of the monument, of the great men's achievements. Did the statues mind? Did they care? Did they know?
It would seem not, that they did.. and oh, most certainly.
Sunday 3 October 2010
Terrifying discovery
When you tell someone something... theres a way you would want them to react.
Right?
Right.
Herein lies the terrible terrifying discovery...
My dad... tells jokes. Bad jokes. They may seem unfeeling. They arent - but to those not in the know, I know, they seem that way.
My mam... gets huggy. Overly huggy, in a mam's true form of I will hug you till it all goes away.
Neither of these ways sits right with me.
The jokes can seem hard - they mask feelings.
but...
I joke with my dad in the crematorium about whether it would be bad form to ask to have the heating turned up.
I shrug off my mam and tell her to leave me be...
but...
sometimes I dont want the hug to end.
Now.. to the revelation.
Neither way sits right... its the combination. The overly huggy with the overly self defensive and barriered. Its the combination thats wanted. Walking up the stairs tonight, with the jokes still echoing and the feel of the hug still warm... Is it me?
I joke, and I hug. So do they both... but more to extremes. Am I the middle way?
Am I what I need?
Fuck.
Thats bloody terrifying.
Right?
Right.
Herein lies the terrible terrifying discovery...
My dad... tells jokes. Bad jokes. They may seem unfeeling. They arent - but to those not in the know, I know, they seem that way.
My mam... gets huggy. Overly huggy, in a mam's true form of I will hug you till it all goes away.
Neither of these ways sits right with me.
The jokes can seem hard - they mask feelings.
but...
I joke with my dad in the crematorium about whether it would be bad form to ask to have the heating turned up.
I shrug off my mam and tell her to leave me be...
but...
sometimes I dont want the hug to end.
Now.. to the revelation.
Neither way sits right... its the combination. The overly huggy with the overly self defensive and barriered. Its the combination thats wanted. Walking up the stairs tonight, with the jokes still echoing and the feel of the hug still warm... Is it me?
I joke, and I hug. So do they both... but more to extremes. Am I the middle way?
Am I what I need?
Fuck.
Thats bloody terrifying.
Thursday 30 September 2010
Stuff... continued
Not that i know if there has been another stuff post.. but there is always stuff.. and here it continues.
Im cold.
I also have a cold. So I am hot. like.. tshirt at this time of year hot - here that is no picnic. Not with the weather like it is. I don't claim to have the flu. People who have the flu can't get out of bed. I just have a cold. But its not a nice cold. its one where your insides are all hot. and your outsides fluctuate between being hot, and being icy. Except for my feet. We have hit the time of year where I no longer feel them, they are so cold.
Wouldnt it be nice if we changed colour with the temperature we are, like those global hypercolour tshirts.. rememeber them? They used to sell them at C&A... ah the memories. I loved their door handles. The tshirts were great. People I saw buying the leggings however, I always doubted their sanity as well as their fashion sense.
I mean changing colour like - a chameleon - they still can right? All the info about why they do and why they dont has got me confused if they do at all.
Ive been thinking about old books today. I even tried to find if they were available online.. with no success. I mean the old hardback ladybird books. Two in particular I loved. The first, The Tinderbox. Second, The Ice Queen. I loved those books. Theres also one about people who are flowers, which was beautiful, but thats about all I remember about it, that and its dark blue aura. There was another. But... being me, Ive forgotten what it was from knowing it well at the start o this paragraph. Oh yus. Imma genius.
Im also now trying to think where my old diary is. I need to prove Ducko wrong about when our anniversary is. Not that I need the book for proof, as his logic about when it is is fatally flawed. but yanno.. Id kinda like to know when it was as well. But looking, other than the general looking around I'm doing now, will involve moving.. and moving things. And my nailvarnish isnt 100% dry yet. Im cold.
Im Tired. Do you think I could take a duvet in to work and noone would mind? Sadly its not dress down day till tomorrow... or I think I might. Ugh. 8 hours of working with a headcold and the rest of my body a shivvering or boiling hot mess. Working till midnight. Thats like, a whole extra day on top of the one thats already here.
Been trying to work out what to take, as theres the funeral tomorow. Need smartness. Need to organise. Need to hunt down and educate designers that you do NOT have pockets ending at the widest part of the leg, as it makes any ass look huge. Mine SERIOUSLY doesnt need that kinda help. Will wear smart black coat I think... Need to find it.. possibly dust or hoover it... Want to see if Primarni has the one that was in the magazine in yet... I did like that. Didnt have it in yesterday when i got up stupidly early before work to go in and look... meaning I got soaked in the rain... humph. Ah well times getting on, gotta sort stuff, bag up the bag, and the bag. put it in the bag. see if the cakes fit... water, drugs, money,drugs,food, drugs.. Im gonna fkn rattle when I walk.
Im cold.
I also have a cold. So I am hot. like.. tshirt at this time of year hot - here that is no picnic. Not with the weather like it is. I don't claim to have the flu. People who have the flu can't get out of bed. I just have a cold. But its not a nice cold. its one where your insides are all hot. and your outsides fluctuate between being hot, and being icy. Except for my feet. We have hit the time of year where I no longer feel them, they are so cold.
Wouldnt it be nice if we changed colour with the temperature we are, like those global hypercolour tshirts.. rememeber them? They used to sell them at C&A... ah the memories. I loved their door handles. The tshirts were great. People I saw buying the leggings however, I always doubted their sanity as well as their fashion sense.
I mean changing colour like - a chameleon - they still can right? All the info about why they do and why they dont has got me confused if they do at all.
Ive been thinking about old books today. I even tried to find if they were available online.. with no success. I mean the old hardback ladybird books. Two in particular I loved. The first, The Tinderbox. Second, The Ice Queen. I loved those books. Theres also one about people who are flowers, which was beautiful, but thats about all I remember about it, that and its dark blue aura. There was another. But... being me, Ive forgotten what it was from knowing it well at the start o this paragraph. Oh yus. Imma genius.
Im also now trying to think where my old diary is. I need to prove Ducko wrong about when our anniversary is. Not that I need the book for proof, as his logic about when it is is fatally flawed. but yanno.. Id kinda like to know when it was as well. But looking, other than the general looking around I'm doing now, will involve moving.. and moving things. And my nailvarnish isnt 100% dry yet. Im cold.
Im Tired. Do you think I could take a duvet in to work and noone would mind? Sadly its not dress down day till tomorrow... or I think I might. Ugh. 8 hours of working with a headcold and the rest of my body a shivvering or boiling hot mess. Working till midnight. Thats like, a whole extra day on top of the one thats already here.
Been trying to work out what to take, as theres the funeral tomorow. Need smartness. Need to organise. Need to hunt down and educate designers that you do NOT have pockets ending at the widest part of the leg, as it makes any ass look huge. Mine SERIOUSLY doesnt need that kinda help. Will wear smart black coat I think... Need to find it.. possibly dust or hoover it... Want to see if Primarni has the one that was in the magazine in yet... I did like that. Didnt have it in yesterday when i got up stupidly early before work to go in and look... meaning I got soaked in the rain... humph. Ah well times getting on, gotta sort stuff, bag up the bag, and the bag. put it in the bag. see if the cakes fit... water, drugs, money,drugs,food, drugs.. Im gonna fkn rattle when I walk.
Tuesday 21 September 2010
Bad Week
Yes.. both words capitalised. It's been THAT kind of week so far. And it's still only Tuesday.
It started yesterday. Monday. Weeks usually do.
Yesterday was fairly meh... I argued with a few self-righteous arse licking yes men bastards who like to contradict and criticise everything I say. They do this I think because they are aware of what they are and deep down they dont like it and are too cowardly to change coz that would mean losing their position. Thats me being nice about it as well. Its entirely possible that trying to make me look like the bad guy at each occasion just makes them look better to people they agree with. That they are cold heartless bastards. Could be... I digress.
I won't talk much about what happened next. Not my place really. Ducko had some bad news. A death. The loss of a friend. I would have like to have called him my friend too. I helped him reconnect with someone he had 'lovely chats' with once. He's gone. He's missed. I feel awful for my Ducko.
Today... I hear that the one person who a situation with made me want to check out - permenantly - has shown up again. I hope it's a one off. I hope its a fluke. I can't deal with that. I just can't. Thinking about it makes me sick. The skin becomes a shell again, but theres no hiding from whats already inside. I hate that I feel this way. I hate crying about it. I hate Ducko having to see. I'm sorry. The worst case scenario here isn't that I'd lose a lot of money - that matters less than the feeling I would actually ruin myself again. Not to mention my PC.
So, thats the week that was.... and still is. I hope it gets better from here. And hopings not something I do often. hopping... even less often. Id fall over.
It started yesterday. Monday. Weeks usually do.
Yesterday was fairly meh... I argued with a few self-righteous arse licking yes men bastards who like to contradict and criticise everything I say. They do this I think because they are aware of what they are and deep down they dont like it and are too cowardly to change coz that would mean losing their position. Thats me being nice about it as well. Its entirely possible that trying to make me look like the bad guy at each occasion just makes them look better to people they agree with. That they are cold heartless bastards. Could be... I digress.
I won't talk much about what happened next. Not my place really. Ducko had some bad news. A death. The loss of a friend. I would have like to have called him my friend too. I helped him reconnect with someone he had 'lovely chats' with once. He's gone. He's missed. I feel awful for my Ducko.
Today... I hear that the one person who a situation with made me want to check out - permenantly - has shown up again. I hope it's a one off. I hope its a fluke. I can't deal with that. I just can't. Thinking about it makes me sick. The skin becomes a shell again, but theres no hiding from whats already inside. I hate that I feel this way. I hate crying about it. I hate Ducko having to see. I'm sorry. The worst case scenario here isn't that I'd lose a lot of money - that matters less than the feeling I would actually ruin myself again. Not to mention my PC.
So, thats the week that was.... and still is. I hope it gets better from here. And hopings not something I do often. hopping... even less often. Id fall over.
Friday 17 September 2010
Bloo?
Ok... so this, is the water around the Civic Centre... For some reason, they seem to have put Bloo toilet cleaner in it. Perhaps to clean it? Or just to kill all the birds and bunnies that must drink from there. Perhaps they want teals next year rather than ducks - yes, that was a colouring animals joke. But really... why is the water this colour? Its not like you can tell except at the very edges. It certainly doesnt look healthy. I worry for the creatures that must use it to drink from. I should've looked at the other water nearby, the fountain with the swans, but I was running late. Soon perhaps. Ugh. Silly council. What are you upto now?
Wednesday 15 September 2010
Friday 10 September 2010
Banal status updates
No one can hurt you or make you feel inferior without your consent!
Thus sayeth the status update of a friend of mine. Now... I admit, perhaps I am cowardly but not saying what Im going to say here on there. You know where.. that publication of the front of your head. But we arent THAT good friends. So I feel more mean being mean to her, than to closer friends... who know I'm well meaning... if a bit of a grinch today...So...
No one can hurt you or make you feel inferior without your consent!
OhRly? Tell that to victims of Stabbings... Rapes...Abuses... Murders...Dumbass. Oh... sorry.. some people may forget or just not know how much I detest things like this. Well.. thats that cleared up anyway.
Carry on.
Sunday 5 September 2010
Just for B
Dun't go giving up on me. I'm still here.. just all busied and stuffs.
anyhoo... heres an example of why im apparently like James Joyce - not all me, it's an ongoing convo with another... Il be ***... erm... enjoy?
*** hovers in the darkness.. waiting and watching.. grown weary of the lack of success the messengers had had in drawing you out.. compounding what she sees as your cowardice in not facing her, regardless of what she did to those you call family.. or what she had them do... she had waited.. following your vague instructions as to where you resided.. watching always here or when she was off cutting and burning and terrorising the minds of your friends.. feeding from them, replenishing her strength, waiting for you to emerge.. as you do she smiles in the darkness, lips parting over long lupine fangs as she emerges, keeping to the shadows, floating noiselessly a small distance above the ground.. flexing her fingers her gaze focusses on the back of your head.. all her concentration on you and your surroundings...as tense as an animal in the seconds before running at its prey she growls low.. "The time has come.."
XXXX emerged from his home with a stretch, he had locked himself in his lab with the idea od resolving the riddle of Tonga's dagger once and for all...and with *** on the loose in mental shambles, he felt it was a better use of his time. Someone from the family would deal with the lunatic and save him from wasting his own power on it.
It wasn't long before he set foot out the door that he felt a chill and began scanning the area. He knew the chill had little or nothing to do with the temperature. He thought he heard a low growl nearby and he tensed as he pondered popping back into the lab to grab something useful to stave off any intruder. He mumbled to himself "you still around crazy lady....nobody done locked you up yet?" as he felt the darkness creep over his skin like a foul breeze.
*** floats along behind you, eyes seeming to bore into the back of your head so intense was her gaze... moving between you and the door you had exited, she had no desire to wait further for you to be cooped up in your dwelling... the leather restraints that were all that was left of the straightjacket touched down lightly on the ground as she hovers.. catching your murmur on the still air she mimics your accent.. her knowlegde of you, even in this state, enhanced by what she has been told by those she has power over, those she has hurt to draw you out, those you failed to protect and who now serve her.. "Non mon lâche... aint nobody done locked me up yet... " softly moving up and down through the ait, the leather of the restraints taps lightly on the ground, a sound added to by the drip of blood from her eyes.. "Aint nobody done tried too hard to neither.. guess you just aint so important to them.." her voice never much more than a growl carries the weight of her hatred.. the darkness pooling around her and spreading out towards you, the malice and fury flowing like a wave.. "As they are unimportant to you it seems... as you do nothing to end their suffering..."
XXXX spun around on his heel, as much in hearing the sounds as feeling the intense emotions roll past. He sneered up at her as anger surfaced at the comments "well, I don't rightly expect anyone to worry about me...and I expect others to worry about themselves typically. Must be an independent minded thing" He did actually care about some of his 'family' in this city, but he had severely withdrawn after the episode with his former mate and kept to himself mostly, refusing to get too involved any time soon as the pain still was fading. "But others do care, I figured they might lock you up for your own good at least...instead of leaving you to wander around acting more insane than any Malk or Asylum resident we got in this city right now, eh?". He thought quickly as he stalled for time as part of his mind worked on the possible spells, offensive and defensive he could use, more so that he didn't want to bring down his own home and lab in the process.
*** grins unpleasantly, the coming culmination of her hatred pleasing her now it was at hand... vengeance was something to behold... "Independant minded you are... and thus stand alone before me..." cracking the knuckles of her healed hands she flexes her fingers moving closer.. having waited long enough for this moment not to want it prolonged by many more pleasantries... "Now the time has come for you Mon Cher... to take the gift I have to give you... to open your eyes to all you have not seen... and all you have to learn..."
XXXX leans back as he begins to mumble a defensive charm, unsure of her intent and seeing she has no weapons but unsure of her magical possibilities. He had never seen such total madness in any other than a Malkavian and they were at least a bit moe humorous to deal with. "I don't need any of what you is selling crazy lady" he said trying to back up but bumping int the railing instead, stll hesitating to unleash anything offensive with so many irreplaceable items near the line of potential destruction.
*** drags a hand along the wall as she floats closer, her clawlike nails digging in... scratching the surface with a jarring noise.. the action sharpening the talons as she moves... her voice now a low rumbling growl that seems to reverberate in the air around you as she speaks.. "Don't need... You already bought what you will receive..." she tilts her head to one side, her eyes burning black into yours as she takes in your mumbling, and your backing into the barrier, the look in your eyes.. so close to your home.. close perhaps to things you would protect as you hadn't protected the members of your family... that you arent yet protecting yourself when you had been so eager to pull a gun the last time of meeting... something was holding you back and she knows it.. her anger bubbles just below the surface, the hatred and the need to hurt.. the thirst for vengeance... malice crackles in the air around her, the emotion not something she would ever normally display seeming to take on a physical presence in its potency..."Now comes the time to pay..."
XXXX felt her closing in and let himself fall back over the railing attempting some sort of graceful landing almost 15 feet below. He knew he may beable to escape his property via the dungeon tunnel that he had connecting to the sewers of Tempura Eastside. Or at worst he would have a clear line of sight on her without blasting his own front door dow there.
His backflip was not exactly flawless and he landed on his ass shortly after his feet contacted the ground...the momentum a bit too much to halt. He swore as he fumbled to regain composure trying to get to the hatch in the ground before she could get to him...
*** flows over the railing after you as you tumble backwards, her hands which had been about to raise toward you continue their movement, balancing her form as she moves through the air with purpose, more flight than falling... she was floating to begin with after all.. there was an animalistic hint to her movements, something of the stoop of a bird of prey as she plummeted toward you... a wave of cold darkness that was forming from the hatred exuding from her would hit you before she reached the ground... she had been interrogating your friends.. trying to discover what meant anything to you.. the little she had discovered you were adding to yourself by the flight away from your dwelling.. the desire to protect that was clear.. and would be her first weapon... the darkness that had stilled to stoney statues Leo, Mzzy and others at the slightest touch poured out around you, over you ... the low distant screaming that marked it's coming would resound in the air as she hovered before you.. the darkness pulling at your thoughts like threads, drawing them out to bolster her belief that you care for your current surroundings.. your dwelling... presumably an eternals collection of valubles and true treasures... treasures true to you... flashes of its destruction would start to flicker before your eyes.. faint at first... like a distant screen through smoke that was begining to clear...
XXXX stumbles as he tried to back into the hatch leading down when he felt the wave wash over him. He could hear screams from familiar voices...Leo, Mzzy... he knew she had harmed them, he had heard as much...he hoped staying out of the city would help but it didn't. Now he could hear them screaming in his head...it was very disturbing and he felt helpless at the shrieking in his ears.
He felt vertigo as the visions came next...as it was like someone playing a movie with the wrong audio track to it. It confused his mind terribly and he stumbled, the defensive measures were to keep off physical attacks, the mental attacks caught him off guard. The visions became disturbingly real and he could see his lab, the fire from the oven leaping out and catching other materials into a blaze....the flames licking up the walls making their way towards all the precious tomes...hundreds of years worth of knowledge now in peril. The feeling of his own scream lumping in his throat as he heard the sound of breaking glass in his mind's visions...the display cases with the priceless magical artifacts...he gasped aloud as the visions in his mind caused him to be almost paralyzed and unable to move. This very realistic movie playing in his mind washing out the surrounding reality as the smell of burning antique rosewood from the telescope entered into this nightmare...this private hell being unleashed on his mind.
A small voice from his dealing with the black arts of voodoun was struggling to yell through the clutter... that this was an illusion and to snap out of it...but the evil and the insanity *** was casting off was much stronger than his previous encounters with mental attacks.... his brain struggled against the sounds and the visions as a red tear streaked XXXX's cheek at the losses he was witnessing in his mind.
*** floats around you slowly... the darkness flooding from her seeming to hang in the air, leaving traces that could so easily be mistaken for the smoke she sees in your mind.. the imagined distruction of your most precious posessions... a malevolent grin spreads across her face at this pleasing addition to her plans for you.. you were forming your own punishment to fit what lay in store... as you would soon taste other terrors, it seemed you were coming to understand loss... the removal of all posessions... She lets the darkness continue to pull at your thoughts.. weaving into those it had already connected.. letting your own imaginings do the work for her for now.. moving closer to you, the darkness deepens, the screaming grows louder, the true sound of souls in torment known only to those who have heard such things.. knowing the voices are of those they care for and are having to watch and listen to them suffer... coming to an understanding that nothing can be done.. you can only watch, there is no turning away from the pain blossoming inside your mind...
Reaching out a hand toward you, the leather restraint dangling still from the last remains of the straightjacket, the metal woven between the sheets of its hide giving it weight as it brushes against you.. the skin of her hand as her fingertips brush through the bloody trail on your cheek is rough... old blood of her victims left to dry there as a warning to all comers.. the touch itself is soft.. a deadly caress as she wipes up the blood... a second weapon for her as she moves her hand away... rubbing your blood between her fingers...
anyhoo... heres an example of why im apparently like James Joyce - not all me, it's an ongoing convo with another... Il be ***... erm... enjoy?
*** hovers in the darkness.. waiting and watching.. grown weary of the lack of success the messengers had had in drawing you out.. compounding what she sees as your cowardice in not facing her, regardless of what she did to those you call family.. or what she had them do... she had waited.. following your vague instructions as to where you resided.. watching always here or when she was off cutting and burning and terrorising the minds of your friends.. feeding from them, replenishing her strength, waiting for you to emerge.. as you do she smiles in the darkness, lips parting over long lupine fangs as she emerges, keeping to the shadows, floating noiselessly a small distance above the ground.. flexing her fingers her gaze focusses on the back of your head.. all her concentration on you and your surroundings...as tense as an animal in the seconds before running at its prey she growls low.. "The time has come.."
XXXX emerged from his home with a stretch, he had locked himself in his lab with the idea od resolving the riddle of Tonga's dagger once and for all...and with *** on the loose in mental shambles, he felt it was a better use of his time. Someone from the family would deal with the lunatic and save him from wasting his own power on it.
It wasn't long before he set foot out the door that he felt a chill and began scanning the area. He knew the chill had little or nothing to do with the temperature. He thought he heard a low growl nearby and he tensed as he pondered popping back into the lab to grab something useful to stave off any intruder. He mumbled to himself "you still around crazy lady....nobody done locked you up yet?" as he felt the darkness creep over his skin like a foul breeze.
*** floats along behind you, eyes seeming to bore into the back of your head so intense was her gaze... moving between you and the door you had exited, she had no desire to wait further for you to be cooped up in your dwelling... the leather restraints that were all that was left of the straightjacket touched down lightly on the ground as she hovers.. catching your murmur on the still air she mimics your accent.. her knowlegde of you, even in this state, enhanced by what she has been told by those she has power over, those she has hurt to draw you out, those you failed to protect and who now serve her.. "Non mon lâche... aint nobody done locked me up yet... " softly moving up and down through the ait, the leather of the restraints taps lightly on the ground, a sound added to by the drip of blood from her eyes.. "Aint nobody done tried too hard to neither.. guess you just aint so important to them.." her voice never much more than a growl carries the weight of her hatred.. the darkness pooling around her and spreading out towards you, the malice and fury flowing like a wave.. "As they are unimportant to you it seems... as you do nothing to end their suffering..."
XXXX spun around on his heel, as much in hearing the sounds as feeling the intense emotions roll past. He sneered up at her as anger surfaced at the comments "well, I don't rightly expect anyone to worry about me...and I expect others to worry about themselves typically. Must be an independent minded thing" He did actually care about some of his 'family' in this city, but he had severely withdrawn after the episode with his former mate and kept to himself mostly, refusing to get too involved any time soon as the pain still was fading. "But others do care, I figured they might lock you up for your own good at least...instead of leaving you to wander around acting more insane than any Malk or Asylum resident we got in this city right now, eh?". He thought quickly as he stalled for time as part of his mind worked on the possible spells, offensive and defensive he could use, more so that he didn't want to bring down his own home and lab in the process.
*** grins unpleasantly, the coming culmination of her hatred pleasing her now it was at hand... vengeance was something to behold... "Independant minded you are... and thus stand alone before me..." cracking the knuckles of her healed hands she flexes her fingers moving closer.. having waited long enough for this moment not to want it prolonged by many more pleasantries... "Now the time has come for you Mon Cher... to take the gift I have to give you... to open your eyes to all you have not seen... and all you have to learn..."
XXXX leans back as he begins to mumble a defensive charm, unsure of her intent and seeing she has no weapons but unsure of her magical possibilities. He had never seen such total madness in any other than a Malkavian and they were at least a bit moe humorous to deal with. "I don't need any of what you is selling crazy lady" he said trying to back up but bumping int the railing instead, stll hesitating to unleash anything offensive with so many irreplaceable items near the line of potential destruction.
*** drags a hand along the wall as she floats closer, her clawlike nails digging in... scratching the surface with a jarring noise.. the action sharpening the talons as she moves... her voice now a low rumbling growl that seems to reverberate in the air around you as she speaks.. "Don't need... You already bought what you will receive..." she tilts her head to one side, her eyes burning black into yours as she takes in your mumbling, and your backing into the barrier, the look in your eyes.. so close to your home.. close perhaps to things you would protect as you hadn't protected the members of your family... that you arent yet protecting yourself when you had been so eager to pull a gun the last time of meeting... something was holding you back and she knows it.. her anger bubbles just below the surface, the hatred and the need to hurt.. the thirst for vengeance... malice crackles in the air around her, the emotion not something she would ever normally display seeming to take on a physical presence in its potency..."Now comes the time to pay..."
XXXX felt her closing in and let himself fall back over the railing attempting some sort of graceful landing almost 15 feet below. He knew he may beable to escape his property via the dungeon tunnel that he had connecting to the sewers of Tempura Eastside. Or at worst he would have a clear line of sight on her without blasting his own front door dow there.
His backflip was not exactly flawless and he landed on his ass shortly after his feet contacted the ground...the momentum a bit too much to halt. He swore as he fumbled to regain composure trying to get to the hatch in the ground before she could get to him...
*** flows over the railing after you as you tumble backwards, her hands which had been about to raise toward you continue their movement, balancing her form as she moves through the air with purpose, more flight than falling... she was floating to begin with after all.. there was an animalistic hint to her movements, something of the stoop of a bird of prey as she plummeted toward you... a wave of cold darkness that was forming from the hatred exuding from her would hit you before she reached the ground... she had been interrogating your friends.. trying to discover what meant anything to you.. the little she had discovered you were adding to yourself by the flight away from your dwelling.. the desire to protect that was clear.. and would be her first weapon... the darkness that had stilled to stoney statues Leo, Mzzy and others at the slightest touch poured out around you, over you ... the low distant screaming that marked it's coming would resound in the air as she hovered before you.. the darkness pulling at your thoughts like threads, drawing them out to bolster her belief that you care for your current surroundings.. your dwelling... presumably an eternals collection of valubles and true treasures... treasures true to you... flashes of its destruction would start to flicker before your eyes.. faint at first... like a distant screen through smoke that was begining to clear...
XXXX stumbles as he tried to back into the hatch leading down when he felt the wave wash over him. He could hear screams from familiar voices...Leo, Mzzy... he knew she had harmed them, he had heard as much...he hoped staying out of the city would help but it didn't. Now he could hear them screaming in his head...it was very disturbing and he felt helpless at the shrieking in his ears.
He felt vertigo as the visions came next...as it was like someone playing a movie with the wrong audio track to it. It confused his mind terribly and he stumbled, the defensive measures were to keep off physical attacks, the mental attacks caught him off guard. The visions became disturbingly real and he could see his lab, the fire from the oven leaping out and catching other materials into a blaze....the flames licking up the walls making their way towards all the precious tomes...hundreds of years worth of knowledge now in peril. The feeling of his own scream lumping in his throat as he heard the sound of breaking glass in his mind's visions...the display cases with the priceless magical artifacts...he gasped aloud as the visions in his mind caused him to be almost paralyzed and unable to move. This very realistic movie playing in his mind washing out the surrounding reality as the smell of burning antique rosewood from the telescope entered into this nightmare...this private hell being unleashed on his mind.
A small voice from his dealing with the black arts of voodoun was struggling to yell through the clutter... that this was an illusion and to snap out of it...but the evil and the insanity *** was casting off was much stronger than his previous encounters with mental attacks.... his brain struggled against the sounds and the visions as a red tear streaked XXXX's cheek at the losses he was witnessing in his mind.
*** floats around you slowly... the darkness flooding from her seeming to hang in the air, leaving traces that could so easily be mistaken for the smoke she sees in your mind.. the imagined distruction of your most precious posessions... a malevolent grin spreads across her face at this pleasing addition to her plans for you.. you were forming your own punishment to fit what lay in store... as you would soon taste other terrors, it seemed you were coming to understand loss... the removal of all posessions... She lets the darkness continue to pull at your thoughts.. weaving into those it had already connected.. letting your own imaginings do the work for her for now.. moving closer to you, the darkness deepens, the screaming grows louder, the true sound of souls in torment known only to those who have heard such things.. knowing the voices are of those they care for and are having to watch and listen to them suffer... coming to an understanding that nothing can be done.. you can only watch, there is no turning away from the pain blossoming inside your mind...
Reaching out a hand toward you, the leather restraint dangling still from the last remains of the straightjacket, the metal woven between the sheets of its hide giving it weight as it brushes against you.. the skin of her hand as her fingertips brush through the bloody trail on your cheek is rough... old blood of her victims left to dry there as a warning to all comers.. the touch itself is soft.. a deadly caress as she wipes up the blood... a second weapon for her as she moves her hand away... rubbing your blood between her fingers...
Thursday 25 February 2010
so.. apparently im supposed to write ten things that make me happy... deja vu
so here, in brief, and in no particular order....
My favourite Chinese.. although each and every time im still scared of food poisoning... im knocking on the plywood of my desk as I type this so I can eat it again this weekend without freaking
Ducko... obviously. Especially as my valentines present made my face grin so big it hurt.
Trees
The right green of new traffic lights. It makes me absurdly happy and calm.
Things going right... doesnt happen often, so its extra nice when it does.
Nailvanish.. yes i like it.. it makes me happy.. i have hundreds.
Harry Potter... more specifically Stephen Fry reading Harry Potter
The magic threes... they dont come around too often either. For me they involve a book, a kind of chocolate and or drink, and a sound.. one example... Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, chocolate covered raisins, the Best of the Eagles album...
Arguing with family - its like a sport, when its good natured.
Being warm.. its underrated. When you are so cold you cant sleep... you will thank me for reminding you that you have a hair drier
ok... thats a lot of things that make me happy... another thing being balance, which there is not enough of, especially in my world.. so here some of the things that make me ... well.. that arent so nice. - that and I grow to hate schmaltzy blog posts...
Hypocracy.. drives me fkn nuts. Such simple things as one person posting a blog with the mindless banality of "You should be happy and greatful with what you have, and stop looking for more" feeling like pointing them to the hurt, the grieving and the suicidal. Only for self same person to be whinging on mere days later about the hardships and heartaches. Did I push it in their face? Did I? No... coz im nicer than that. Not entirely nice or I wouldbe be writing this now.. but I never claimed to be an angel.
Plastic bags caught in trees.
Stupidity. Not meaning a lack of knowledge, meaning a determination to avoid improvement in any form. See guests on Jeremy Kyle show for live examples.
Loss. Stands to reason doesnt it.
Plugin Air fresheners. Do some cleaning fuckers... No point spraying perfume on shit.
There we go, not entirely balanced I know, but its nice to err on the postive side once in a while
*walks off whistling always look on the bright side of life*
so here, in brief, and in no particular order....
My favourite Chinese.. although each and every time im still scared of food poisoning... im knocking on the plywood of my desk as I type this so I can eat it again this weekend without freaking
Ducko... obviously. Especially as my valentines present made my face grin so big it hurt.
Trees
The right green of new traffic lights. It makes me absurdly happy and calm.
Things going right... doesnt happen often, so its extra nice when it does.
Nailvanish.. yes i like it.. it makes me happy.. i have hundreds.
Harry Potter... more specifically Stephen Fry reading Harry Potter
The magic threes... they dont come around too often either. For me they involve a book, a kind of chocolate and or drink, and a sound.. one example... Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, chocolate covered raisins, the Best of the Eagles album...
Arguing with family - its like a sport, when its good natured.
Being warm.. its underrated. When you are so cold you cant sleep... you will thank me for reminding you that you have a hair drier
ok... thats a lot of things that make me happy... another thing being balance, which there is not enough of, especially in my world.. so here some of the things that make me ... well.. that arent so nice. - that and I grow to hate schmaltzy blog posts...
Hypocracy.. drives me fkn nuts. Such simple things as one person posting a blog with the mindless banality of "You should be happy and greatful with what you have, and stop looking for more" feeling like pointing them to the hurt, the grieving and the suicidal. Only for self same person to be whinging on mere days later about the hardships and heartaches. Did I push it in their face? Did I? No... coz im nicer than that. Not entirely nice or I wouldbe be writing this now.. but I never claimed to be an angel.
Plastic bags caught in trees.
Stupidity. Not meaning a lack of knowledge, meaning a determination to avoid improvement in any form. See guests on Jeremy Kyle show for live examples.
Loss. Stands to reason doesnt it.
Plugin Air fresheners. Do some cleaning fuckers... No point spraying perfume on shit.
There we go, not entirely balanced I know, but its nice to err on the postive side once in a while
*walks off whistling always look on the bright side of life*
Tuesday 19 January 2010
been a while... again
Yes.. I know.. Im rubbish.
Today something crossed my mind, and stuck there long enough for me to think it would be an interesting - and yes I use that word loosely - thing to have as a facebook status... then I was distracted ON facebook by a stupid advert for a mobile phone company for an object that guarantees you phone reception in your home... so that took precedence for me to cite their dumbassery and point them in the direction of their landlines....
however... the thing remained on my mind.
so, stick with me on this.
Codliver oil.
Its a given right? It exists. We know this. We ACCEPT this... we are fine with this... we never really question this...
Thing is... if someone asked you if fish had livers.... what would you say?
Perhaps its coz dont do a lot of cooking that this seems odd...
But then... Ive never seen a birds lungs either....
And... what about insects? Do they have the same gubbins goin on inside them?
I realise I could find out.. probably quite easily... but yanno... then the magic goes.
and we all like magic bugs.
Shazzayum.
Today something crossed my mind, and stuck there long enough for me to think it would be an interesting - and yes I use that word loosely - thing to have as a facebook status... then I was distracted ON facebook by a stupid advert for a mobile phone company for an object that guarantees you phone reception in your home... so that took precedence for me to cite their dumbassery and point them in the direction of their landlines....
however... the thing remained on my mind.
so, stick with me on this.
Codliver oil.
Its a given right? It exists. We know this. We ACCEPT this... we are fine with this... we never really question this...
Thing is... if someone asked you if fish had livers.... what would you say?
Perhaps its coz dont do a lot of cooking that this seems odd...
But then... Ive never seen a birds lungs either....
And... what about insects? Do they have the same gubbins goin on inside them?
I realise I could find out.. probably quite easily... but yanno... then the magic goes.
and we all like magic bugs.
Shazzayum.
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