Song of the day: “Disturbia” by Rihanna. Nicely whacky song, and it has been stuck in my head for several hours, thank you very much.
It’s been a somewhat strange weekend, at least out of the ordinary since there was no market day for me. That will be next week where the Funny Beach market will be on Saturday night for the next two months or so. Good. I love the evening market. It leaves the day free for other, more important stuff…or in this case, loading. Hah.
Had a rather wonky dream about driving down a country road in the Land Rover, and then when I rounded a curve, there was this steep moss covered incline with two massive trees growing against it. They were majestic and curved in elegant arches on their way up into the golden sunlight. They were gorgeous, I tell you…and the best part was on a small terrace somewhere mid-height, this cute little house was built. It was really like one of those old rounded buildings with black beams crisscrossing through salmon-colored plaster, and a thatched roof.
Then suddenly, I heard the sound of an engine from around the curb. The next moment a small-ish woman in black Mary-Janes dark blue skirt, and a maroon cardigan over a fluffy white blouse. She was wearing a dark blue helmet, and sat on a bright cherry red moped that sounded way too loud for its type. The lady drove right past us, chin up, shoulders back, and seemed to be heading straight for the steep incline.
I could only stare, and yes, while I watched, she pulled the steer up, rearing the moped like a horse and started driving right up the incline. Up and up she went, literally vertical then, and when she reached the terrace went right on, taking the moped to air. I was quite stunned, despite the fact that by then I was starting to suspect I was dreaming. Hah. She flew right off.
Then, we were driving away, and I was all frustrated because I wanted to take a picture of the trees, but we rounded a curve, and then the beauty of the shot seemed to be gone, and I woke up all frustrated because I hadn’t been able to get that shot.
I don’t understand why it stayed with me when I was awake either, since I would not have been able to actually have the picture, you know. Hah.
But anyway, the past couple of days involved working on the new bathroom, of course. The floor is completely in, two walls, the tab and despite the fact that today was ridiculously busy, we did manage to do a bit more for it.
This morning was most unpleasant for Caregiver and grandpa who had to take both tenant and Sally to the health center. Sally is doing so bad at the moment, that she’s practically unmanageable. Angry, stubborn, and making things worse for herself by doing things against doctor’s orders that do nothing to improve her health. Regretfully she has stuff so stuck in her head, she won’t be swayed. Added to that, tenant wasn’t in the best of moods either, and she was resentful for having to wait for Sally. Those two don’t get along well at the moment.
There was of course writing this weekend. Almost got the manuscript up to 50,000 words now. Yay.
Laundry, feeding the dogs, cooking and all that glamorous stuff got done as usual, and I worried somewhat fierce yesterday about Knight, who decided to develop a fever. I didn’t like the look of him yesterday morning, a somewhat pale impression, if you know what I mean, so I checked his bandage, his stitches, but couldn’t find anything despite the fact that he had a fever.
This morning was an early start for us as well, since the car had to be brought to the garage. Dropped it off there on the dot (had Knight along because I had to go to the vet straight after. Fever was still there), told them of the trouble, and left our little darling for repairs. *sigh* It’s going to be expensive, I’m sure.
Went to the vet, but she wasn’t there, regretfully. And I didn’t have time to wait due to that appointment of Sally and tenant. So I went home…and discovered about an hour later that Knight’s paw was about double the size. Called the vet and she promised me she would see us at five…arrived there on time, and she couldn’t find anything wrong, so it is one of those freak things. They applied this big pressure bandage, so he looks even more wonky than usual now. *sigh* Poor darling.
That’s about it. I’m sure I’m missing one or two events, but who cares, right? Time to go to bed because I have to be up tomorrow to go to the bank and town hall to pay taxes. Little brother will be going along, since he wants to open one at my bank too, so I’m guessing that it will take a bit of time. Darn it. Time. If only we had more of it. *sigh*
Gotta go.
Showing posts with label dream. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dream. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Dreams of reality?
Song of the day: “Sunlight” by…I have no idea, actually. Hmmm. It’s an annoying song anyway.
“So. Where are we going?”
The man, walking ahead of me, doesn’t pause, nor does he glance back. I double up, stumble a little as I try to shift the bulk of my backpack into a more comfortable position. It is a cold day, somewhere near dusk I think, and we’re walking through a forest cast in a variety of grays that range from white all the way to black. It is like I’m walking through one of those old B&W movies where you can only guess which color is what. But this isn’t the movies, this is real…or is it?
Ahead of me, the man points straight ahead, and seeing as I’m not paying attention to where I’m walking, I stumble over a big root sticking out of the floor. My boots, heavy with mud and even some specks of snow, are in good shape, and for a change I can’t feel my heel. I think part of the reason why is because of the cold. It is pressing against me from all sides, penetrating through several layers. A padded coat covering a ragged woollen sweater, two flannel shirts and a tight T at the bottom. My legs are encased by heavy Jeans and a thick sweatpants which just barely keeps me from freezing my bum off.
“What’s over there,” I wheeze at my companion, doing a clumsy skip, and then again as I try to keep up with his quick pace. From what I can see, his face partially concealed by a deep red scarf that is wrapped around his jaw up to his mouth, and a snow cap pulled down to his brow, he, for some reason, reminds me of a bearded Vin Diesel. Which is weird, since he doesn’t share any resemblances to the actor at all. He just reminds me of him. Must be some long forgotten movie, or something.
On his back, over a bulky backpack that is twice the size of my own (damn, the man doesn’t even have the decency to appear out of breath from the brutal pace he is setting) he carries a heavy duty riffle that gleamed from a recent polishing, I’m sure.
It might be my imagination, but it looks like he shrugs. I can hardly believe it, and hurry up to grab hold of his arm.
“Did you just shrug at me?” I demand, holding on for dear life while he continues on as if I am not even trying to stop him. “I want to know what’s over there in the direction we’re going?”
The way I figure, I have a right to know, what with me following his lead because he appears to know what he’s about. I’ve gotta be on time, after all…for what, I’m not entirely sure.
Strange.
He stops at last and turns to look at me. He’s got dark eyes, high cheekbones and more than just a five-o’clock shadow, and perspiration coats his wind-blown face. Thankfully he doesn’t appear to be as impervious about our stark surrounding as I first thought.
“I don’t know.” His voice is heavy, gravely, as if he hasn’t used it much.
“I beg your pardon?” I blink at him, for a moment not having a clue as to what he’s talking about. Then it hits me. “You mean you don’t know where we’re going?” I demand, outraged all of a sudden. How can he walk with such purpose and not know where we’re going, darn it. It just isn’t fair.
“Sure I do. We’re going that way.” He jabs a thumb in the direction we’d been heading. “But you don’t know what is there?!” I practically shout at him,
“Doesn’t make a difference,” he points out calmly, as if he is making all the sense in the world. “We’re going where we need to go, and it’s over there.”
“I swear, if you point your thumb in that direction one more time, I’m going to break it,” I threaten, getting a mite huffy when he only laughs at my threat.
In hindsight, I can understand why, seeing as he is at least a foot taller than I which is…well, weird, considering I’m six foot tall, but what the heck.
“Ron, we can’t just walk around aimlessly. It’s freezing out here and we…”
“Trust me,” he cuts in, and I can only stare at him as he shakes off my hand and continues his way through the muddy trail that we’ve been following for ages, or so it seems.
“This is not a matter of trust,” I call after him, scrambling to catch up, and almost landing flat on my face when another root appears to wrapped itself around my foot. Drat.
When I do finally catch up with him, I just barely manage to catch a branch he lets go after his passing, and grimace at the sudden increase of light now that we have reached the end of the forest.
“What are you trying to do, have me…” He stops and I literally slam into his backpack and the cold metal of his riffle. I swear under my breath and scramble back a step or two before going to the side so I can give him a piece of my mind. But before I can open my mouth to do so, the view beyond him takes my breath away.
There, in the distance, following a mountainous slope that leads straight into a long stretching valley a city lays. At first it is a city like any other, high-rises and suburbs surrounding it, but then I see it, the biggest difference of all. All through the mega city plumes of smoke rise high into the evening air, light glimmering, but it isn’t street lights. Fires rage within the streets, and the skyscrapers that should have glimmered with light on any normal day are dulled with age and lack of glass. Even from this distance I can see the damage to several stories, but it is not that which holds my attention. Instead my gaze is drawn to where something dark, something dangerous lurks. I know, and yet I cannot see it, but then, my hand automatically latching onto Ron for support, I…wake up with Knight II slapping his paws onto my chest with enough force to slam the air from my lungs. Jeez!
What did you think? That’s not my reality, of course. though admittedly at the moment it is chilly enough for me to feel as if I’m face a snowy day of sorts. Hah.
It was a dream, naturally, but it was so vivid that I just had to share.
Okay, enough dawdling, let’s get down to business and get this over with. I’ve got another edit to face (getting nearer to the end of this one, yay) so I better rush through this a little.
I woke up, sore all over. I’m thinking that Knight II thought it a good idea to press himself against me throughout the night, meaning that I spend the majority of the night trying not to fall off the bed. *sigh* I love Knight II to pieces, really, I do. But sometimes I also want to strangle him. Aaaargh.
No workout, again. There just isn’t time. What with winter rapidly settling in, we are putting more of a rush on the stove in the house, meaning that we went down there early once more to get to it. Change of plan though, seeing as I discovered a load of water in the hallway when I finished my morning shower and fully intended to start tiling.
Turns out the main pipe of the house’s sewage was plugged, filling the hallway with all sorts of nasty. This meant that the next two hours were spent unplugging the pipes with a garden hose. Big brother shoved it up there and a few minutes later the whole mess came sloshing out. Eeewww! Then came the cleaning bit, mopping up the mess and everything, trying to breathe through my mouth rather than anything else, and failing miserably since the smell stuck to my nostrils the rest of the day, darn it.
So by the time we finally had it all done, the only thing we could do for the stove was clean the tiling of the day before, check if it hadn’t sagged, take off the small moulds and then cover it all up again when the younger sibs got up and let their dogs out. Rather than risk some serious “discussions” between the pack, I totally don’t feel up to that early in the morning, we took out tools and postponed the efforts to today.
What followed throughout the day was painting the storage barrel, which was starting to get seriously rusty. That done, there was the metal works waiting for me. To fully install the stove, we need to make a hole in the second floor, through which the pipe needs to be led, and a protective coating for around the beam of wood under which it passes. This took some time, the cutting, bending and then polishing, but I’ve got it ready and waiting.
While big brother made dinner (red beets with mashed potatoes) I made a tomato soup for later in the evening when that little snack would go down really well.
Next I hauled wood down to the terrace where we burnt a nice barrel fire to chase away the cold of the evening while we worked on the edit. I love an open fire. Hah.
Which brings us to today, doesn’t it? Well, the morning started early once again, and the chill was pretty intense. Grandpa estimates that we’re only a few degrees away from the freezing point these days. (Bonkers! Especially for Southern Spain, for crying out loud.)
Did work on the stove spot today, though I started after big brother who is working with those glass bricks to create a protective corner for the pedestal. While he was doing that, I headed down into the yard to water the small seedbed and open her up for the sunny day (too windy to be warm, but sunny at least). Same goes for the greenhouse, which needs to dry whenever possible, lest we’ll have plants dying of molds. Lost another top of a tomato plant to leaf miners who think it funny to dig into the young top stems of the plants and kill them.
That done, I headed down to check on the cabbages and such. I watered the young ones, checked them for caterpillars, and then did the same with the big ones. Found only a few of the pests, but then went up to see if I could start tiling the last bit of the pedestal yet.
Yep. The pedestal is basically done for the stove now. All we need to do is build the glass brick corner around it (big brother only did one edge today. We need to add three more layers) and then we can start putting the thing in. It is going to be interesting to see if we’ll manage to get it in place without disaster occurring. The stupid thing does way a ton, and we will need to life it a solid foot + several inches. Ah well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.
The day’s efforts successful with the last tiles added to the construction, it was time for breakfast and other tasks. Which consisted of some repairs for mom today. Big brother worked on her sewing machine, while I fixed the large construction we designed for her bag designs at the market. Apparently they lost four pegs during transport at some point, so I had to see if I could make new ones. Ended up fixing suitable replacements, so all’s well in that regard.
Next the barrel had to be painted again, followed by a session of working on the gate, which needs a new lick of paint as well. Rust was breaking out everywhere, and since we found the right paint once again (don’t understand why they stopped making it) and managed almost half before it was time to head out in the car and drop Sally off at her job.
That done it was time for more soup (I had one cup during the paint job) some crackers, and then making tea on the barrel stove before I started on the blog and the ever-lasting edit…for which the time has arrived now.
“So. Where are we going?”
The man, walking ahead of me, doesn’t pause, nor does he glance back. I double up, stumble a little as I try to shift the bulk of my backpack into a more comfortable position. It is a cold day, somewhere near dusk I think, and we’re walking through a forest cast in a variety of grays that range from white all the way to black. It is like I’m walking through one of those old B&W movies where you can only guess which color is what. But this isn’t the movies, this is real…or is it?
Ahead of me, the man points straight ahead, and seeing as I’m not paying attention to where I’m walking, I stumble over a big root sticking out of the floor. My boots, heavy with mud and even some specks of snow, are in good shape, and for a change I can’t feel my heel. I think part of the reason why is because of the cold. It is pressing against me from all sides, penetrating through several layers. A padded coat covering a ragged woollen sweater, two flannel shirts and a tight T at the bottom. My legs are encased by heavy Jeans and a thick sweatpants which just barely keeps me from freezing my bum off.
“What’s over there,” I wheeze at my companion, doing a clumsy skip, and then again as I try to keep up with his quick pace. From what I can see, his face partially concealed by a deep red scarf that is wrapped around his jaw up to his mouth, and a snow cap pulled down to his brow, he, for some reason, reminds me of a bearded Vin Diesel. Which is weird, since he doesn’t share any resemblances to the actor at all. He just reminds me of him. Must be some long forgotten movie, or something.
On his back, over a bulky backpack that is twice the size of my own (damn, the man doesn’t even have the decency to appear out of breath from the brutal pace he is setting) he carries a heavy duty riffle that gleamed from a recent polishing, I’m sure.
It might be my imagination, but it looks like he shrugs. I can hardly believe it, and hurry up to grab hold of his arm.
“Did you just shrug at me?” I demand, holding on for dear life while he continues on as if I am not even trying to stop him. “I want to know what’s over there in the direction we’re going?”
The way I figure, I have a right to know, what with me following his lead because he appears to know what he’s about. I’ve gotta be on time, after all…for what, I’m not entirely sure.
Strange.
He stops at last and turns to look at me. He’s got dark eyes, high cheekbones and more than just a five-o’clock shadow, and perspiration coats his wind-blown face. Thankfully he doesn’t appear to be as impervious about our stark surrounding as I first thought.
“I don’t know.” His voice is heavy, gravely, as if he hasn’t used it much.
“I beg your pardon?” I blink at him, for a moment not having a clue as to what he’s talking about. Then it hits me. “You mean you don’t know where we’re going?” I demand, outraged all of a sudden. How can he walk with such purpose and not know where we’re going, darn it. It just isn’t fair.
“Sure I do. We’re going that way.” He jabs a thumb in the direction we’d been heading. “But you don’t know what is there?!” I practically shout at him,
“Doesn’t make a difference,” he points out calmly, as if he is making all the sense in the world. “We’re going where we need to go, and it’s over there.”
“I swear, if you point your thumb in that direction one more time, I’m going to break it,” I threaten, getting a mite huffy when he only laughs at my threat.
In hindsight, I can understand why, seeing as he is at least a foot taller than I which is…well, weird, considering I’m six foot tall, but what the heck.
“Ron, we can’t just walk around aimlessly. It’s freezing out here and we…”
“Trust me,” he cuts in, and I can only stare at him as he shakes off my hand and continues his way through the muddy trail that we’ve been following for ages, or so it seems.
“This is not a matter of trust,” I call after him, scrambling to catch up, and almost landing flat on my face when another root appears to wrapped itself around my foot. Drat.
When I do finally catch up with him, I just barely manage to catch a branch he lets go after his passing, and grimace at the sudden increase of light now that we have reached the end of the forest.
“What are you trying to do, have me…” He stops and I literally slam into his backpack and the cold metal of his riffle. I swear under my breath and scramble back a step or two before going to the side so I can give him a piece of my mind. But before I can open my mouth to do so, the view beyond him takes my breath away.
There, in the distance, following a mountainous slope that leads straight into a long stretching valley a city lays. At first it is a city like any other, high-rises and suburbs surrounding it, but then I see it, the biggest difference of all. All through the mega city plumes of smoke rise high into the evening air, light glimmering, but it isn’t street lights. Fires rage within the streets, and the skyscrapers that should have glimmered with light on any normal day are dulled with age and lack of glass. Even from this distance I can see the damage to several stories, but it is not that which holds my attention. Instead my gaze is drawn to where something dark, something dangerous lurks. I know, and yet I cannot see it, but then, my hand automatically latching onto Ron for support, I…wake up with Knight II slapping his paws onto my chest with enough force to slam the air from my lungs. Jeez!
What did you think? That’s not my reality, of course. though admittedly at the moment it is chilly enough for me to feel as if I’m face a snowy day of sorts. Hah.
It was a dream, naturally, but it was so vivid that I just had to share.
Okay, enough dawdling, let’s get down to business and get this over with. I’ve got another edit to face (getting nearer to the end of this one, yay) so I better rush through this a little.
I woke up, sore all over. I’m thinking that Knight II thought it a good idea to press himself against me throughout the night, meaning that I spend the majority of the night trying not to fall off the bed. *sigh* I love Knight II to pieces, really, I do. But sometimes I also want to strangle him. Aaaargh.
No workout, again. There just isn’t time. What with winter rapidly settling in, we are putting more of a rush on the stove in the house, meaning that we went down there early once more to get to it. Change of plan though, seeing as I discovered a load of water in the hallway when I finished my morning shower and fully intended to start tiling.
Turns out the main pipe of the house’s sewage was plugged, filling the hallway with all sorts of nasty. This meant that the next two hours were spent unplugging the pipes with a garden hose. Big brother shoved it up there and a few minutes later the whole mess came sloshing out. Eeewww! Then came the cleaning bit, mopping up the mess and everything, trying to breathe through my mouth rather than anything else, and failing miserably since the smell stuck to my nostrils the rest of the day, darn it.
So by the time we finally had it all done, the only thing we could do for the stove was clean the tiling of the day before, check if it hadn’t sagged, take off the small moulds and then cover it all up again when the younger sibs got up and let their dogs out. Rather than risk some serious “discussions” between the pack, I totally don’t feel up to that early in the morning, we took out tools and postponed the efforts to today.
What followed throughout the day was painting the storage barrel, which was starting to get seriously rusty. That done, there was the metal works waiting for me. To fully install the stove, we need to make a hole in the second floor, through which the pipe needs to be led, and a protective coating for around the beam of wood under which it passes. This took some time, the cutting, bending and then polishing, but I’ve got it ready and waiting.
While big brother made dinner (red beets with mashed potatoes) I made a tomato soup for later in the evening when that little snack would go down really well.
Next I hauled wood down to the terrace where we burnt a nice barrel fire to chase away the cold of the evening while we worked on the edit. I love an open fire. Hah.
Which brings us to today, doesn’t it? Well, the morning started early once again, and the chill was pretty intense. Grandpa estimates that we’re only a few degrees away from the freezing point these days. (Bonkers! Especially for Southern Spain, for crying out loud.)
Did work on the stove spot today, though I started after big brother who is working with those glass bricks to create a protective corner for the pedestal. While he was doing that, I headed down into the yard to water the small seedbed and open her up for the sunny day (too windy to be warm, but sunny at least). Same goes for the greenhouse, which needs to dry whenever possible, lest we’ll have plants dying of molds. Lost another top of a tomato plant to leaf miners who think it funny to dig into the young top stems of the plants and kill them.
That done, I headed down to check on the cabbages and such. I watered the young ones, checked them for caterpillars, and then did the same with the big ones. Found only a few of the pests, but then went up to see if I could start tiling the last bit of the pedestal yet.
Yep. The pedestal is basically done for the stove now. All we need to do is build the glass brick corner around it (big brother only did one edge today. We need to add three more layers) and then we can start putting the thing in. It is going to be interesting to see if we’ll manage to get it in place without disaster occurring. The stupid thing does way a ton, and we will need to life it a solid foot + several inches. Ah well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.
The day’s efforts successful with the last tiles added to the construction, it was time for breakfast and other tasks. Which consisted of some repairs for mom today. Big brother worked on her sewing machine, while I fixed the large construction we designed for her bag designs at the market. Apparently they lost four pegs during transport at some point, so I had to see if I could make new ones. Ended up fixing suitable replacements, so all’s well in that regard.
Next the barrel had to be painted again, followed by a session of working on the gate, which needs a new lick of paint as well. Rust was breaking out everywhere, and since we found the right paint once again (don’t understand why they stopped making it) and managed almost half before it was time to head out in the car and drop Sally off at her job.
That done it was time for more soup (I had one cup during the paint job) some crackers, and then making tea on the barrel stove before I started on the blog and the ever-lasting edit…for which the time has arrived now.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Bugged...sorta anyway
Song of the day: “Haven’t met you yet” by Michael Bublé. So I’m not his biggest fan, but since this particular song is rather nice, I don’t mind all that much. Hah.
It’s been a busy couple of days, and by now I am more than ready to call it a day for today. Hah. Considering it is only six in the afternoon, this is a bit of a premature feeling, but what the heck. Can’t help the facts, can I?
So lets get this thing going, I still need to go out to get a new load of rocks. Grandpa is wanting to build a small wall in his little courtyard, meaning that we have to get some hand-sized rocks. Big brother and I prefer to work with rocks of more than sixty pounds each, and even though grandpa tries, this is a bit too heavy and unhandy for him. Not that it matters. I’m in need for some exercise anyway. Hah.
Yesterday morning was the morning rituals and the ever-lasting chore of hanging laundry, big brother and I quickly headed out into the yard to check if there was watering needing to be done, harvesting, and so on and on. After about an hour we were done, and headed on up with another basket full of veggies. Yay.
Then it was time to head on out…yes, have you figured out what time of the month it is yet? You know, that day I dread from the moment it is done? The day of……..grocery shopping. *sigh*
Added to the day’s fun-stuff, was the fact that two of my sibs, mom and I piled into the Opel, and basically held our breaths on our way to town. Considering the car had barely managed to get us home the other day, and the fact that going to the village and picking up Sally was almost too much for the poor dear, it wasn’t outside of the realm of possibilities that the car might not make it to town without loosing every last drop of its cooling liquid.
Suffice it to say that we made it to the garage, where the Land Rover was ready and waiting. We could continue on with the breaks for another 700 miles or so (give us a couple of weeks *sigh*) and they had to refill the transmission box’s oil (still a problem there, apparently) but other than that the car was in top shape, allowing us to head on out into the day (leaving the Opel there) and face the grocery shopping.
All went as planned, and around five in the afternoon I could come and pick up the Opel again. The mechanic had taken a test drive before and after the repairs, he but in a more sensitive switch for the fan, which was a bit tardy for cooling the engine. Since he’d heard a strange thumping sound he also tightened some sort of tube (I had no idea what he was talking about but what the heck) which solved that problem. Yay.
So we got the groceries done and headed on home with both cars, where we unloaded, had a quick supper of yesterday’s leftovers. Afterwards big brother and I immediately got to work on the edit, interrupted by going through messages, followed by me, starting on a letter to a literary agent I’ve been thinking about contacting for quite a bit now. The letter is…hmmm, different, perhaps just a tad too honest and elaborate, but I do think that the message comes across. I’ll have to reread it a few more times, check everything a dozen times and then maybe, just maybe I’ll send it over. Hah.
Got to bed a little on the late side, but did manage to wake up in time, and as planned, around noon we were working in the yard taking out the green bean plants since this was the last harvest. It was a rather wonderful day for it. The temperatures mild, the sun bright and a cool eastern wind rolling in from the sea. Big brother and I were each tackling different sets of vines when suddenly it happened, from within the deep dark vestiges of the constructions I once so happily built, an egg-sized bug flew up and buzzed around me. What followed was five minutes of the creatures volleys towards me, the dogs--as a matter of fact it chased Sonia for a bit--and then it happened. I felt a stab in my lower back and with a squeal I dropped the basket full of beans I was holding. Madly I slapped at the painful spot, felt, and soon saw that the bug was literally ripping through my skin and crawling underneath. I started the screaming then, flaying my arms all the while, “Get it out! Get it out! Big brother is chasing me, trying to get to the darn thing while I’m basically running around like a chicken without a head. I can feel it crawling under my skin, a burning sensation similar to acidic, and then I see it. The moving bulge coming over my shoulder, going to my chest where my heart beats like mad. I scream louder, faintly hear big brother mutter something calming as he takes out his knife and comes at me. And then…I wake up.
Yeah. What did you think? That we have skin crawlers a-la “The Mummy” around here? Jeez. Of course it was a dream!
One that made me uncomfortable as heck, considering today was gardening day, and we did plan on taking out the beans while going through their last harvest. Got a nice full basket too, and even though there were unreasonable moments when I feared that it would, no flying bugs trying to attack me, or crawl under my skin. Hah.
Added to the beans, we also harvested four more pumpkins, bringing the total up to ‘round thirty, I’m guessing. Along with several zucchini, which are finally producing something again.
While I was working on the beans with big brother, grandpa got started on turning earth in preparation for the potatoes that we’re going to plant just as soon as we can.
That done, head on up to the outside kitchen where for the remainder of the afternoon tenant and I prepare supper and then wash pots for tomorrow’s canning session. Yay! Got 22 of them, so we should manage getting all those beans in just fine.
Which brings us to the blog, doesn’t it. I started on it while I’m sterilizing the bottles, and have been doing exactly that for the past two hours, or so. I for one, am more than looking forward to getting a big load of rocks later on, if for no other reason than being able to use some serious muscle power again. It’s just a pity that we’re getting small rocks, eh?
Hah.
It’s been a busy couple of days, and by now I am more than ready to call it a day for today. Hah. Considering it is only six in the afternoon, this is a bit of a premature feeling, but what the heck. Can’t help the facts, can I?
So lets get this thing going, I still need to go out to get a new load of rocks. Grandpa is wanting to build a small wall in his little courtyard, meaning that we have to get some hand-sized rocks. Big brother and I prefer to work with rocks of more than sixty pounds each, and even though grandpa tries, this is a bit too heavy and unhandy for him. Not that it matters. I’m in need for some exercise anyway. Hah.
Yesterday morning was the morning rituals and the ever-lasting chore of hanging laundry, big brother and I quickly headed out into the yard to check if there was watering needing to be done, harvesting, and so on and on. After about an hour we were done, and headed on up with another basket full of veggies. Yay.
Then it was time to head on out…yes, have you figured out what time of the month it is yet? You know, that day I dread from the moment it is done? The day of……..grocery shopping. *sigh*
Added to the day’s fun-stuff, was the fact that two of my sibs, mom and I piled into the Opel, and basically held our breaths on our way to town. Considering the car had barely managed to get us home the other day, and the fact that going to the village and picking up Sally was almost too much for the poor dear, it wasn’t outside of the realm of possibilities that the car might not make it to town without loosing every last drop of its cooling liquid.
Suffice it to say that we made it to the garage, where the Land Rover was ready and waiting. We could continue on with the breaks for another 700 miles or so (give us a couple of weeks *sigh*) and they had to refill the transmission box’s oil (still a problem there, apparently) but other than that the car was in top shape, allowing us to head on out into the day (leaving the Opel there) and face the grocery shopping.
All went as planned, and around five in the afternoon I could come and pick up the Opel again. The mechanic had taken a test drive before and after the repairs, he but in a more sensitive switch for the fan, which was a bit tardy for cooling the engine. Since he’d heard a strange thumping sound he also tightened some sort of tube (I had no idea what he was talking about but what the heck) which solved that problem. Yay.
So we got the groceries done and headed on home with both cars, where we unloaded, had a quick supper of yesterday’s leftovers. Afterwards big brother and I immediately got to work on the edit, interrupted by going through messages, followed by me, starting on a letter to a literary agent I’ve been thinking about contacting for quite a bit now. The letter is…hmmm, different, perhaps just a tad too honest and elaborate, but I do think that the message comes across. I’ll have to reread it a few more times, check everything a dozen times and then maybe, just maybe I’ll send it over. Hah.
Got to bed a little on the late side, but did manage to wake up in time, and as planned, around noon we were working in the yard taking out the green bean plants since this was the last harvest. It was a rather wonderful day for it. The temperatures mild, the sun bright and a cool eastern wind rolling in from the sea. Big brother and I were each tackling different sets of vines when suddenly it happened, from within the deep dark vestiges of the constructions I once so happily built, an egg-sized bug flew up and buzzed around me. What followed was five minutes of the creatures volleys towards me, the dogs--as a matter of fact it chased Sonia for a bit--and then it happened. I felt a stab in my lower back and with a squeal I dropped the basket full of beans I was holding. Madly I slapped at the painful spot, felt, and soon saw that the bug was literally ripping through my skin and crawling underneath. I started the screaming then, flaying my arms all the while, “Get it out! Get it out! Big brother is chasing me, trying to get to the darn thing while I’m basically running around like a chicken without a head. I can feel it crawling under my skin, a burning sensation similar to acidic, and then I see it. The moving bulge coming over my shoulder, going to my chest where my heart beats like mad. I scream louder, faintly hear big brother mutter something calming as he takes out his knife and comes at me. And then…I wake up.
Yeah. What did you think? That we have skin crawlers a-la “The Mummy” around here? Jeez. Of course it was a dream!
One that made me uncomfortable as heck, considering today was gardening day, and we did plan on taking out the beans while going through their last harvest. Got a nice full basket too, and even though there were unreasonable moments when I feared that it would, no flying bugs trying to attack me, or crawl under my skin. Hah.
Added to the beans, we also harvested four more pumpkins, bringing the total up to ‘round thirty, I’m guessing. Along with several zucchini, which are finally producing something again.
While I was working on the beans with big brother, grandpa got started on turning earth in preparation for the potatoes that we’re going to plant just as soon as we can.
That done, head on up to the outside kitchen where for the remainder of the afternoon tenant and I prepare supper and then wash pots for tomorrow’s canning session. Yay! Got 22 of them, so we should manage getting all those beans in just fine.
Which brings us to the blog, doesn’t it. I started on it while I’m sterilizing the bottles, and have been doing exactly that for the past two hours, or so. I for one, am more than looking forward to getting a big load of rocks later on, if for no other reason than being able to use some serious muscle power again. It’s just a pity that we’re getting small rocks, eh?
Hah.
Monday, August 15, 2011
In dreams...
Song of the day: “Lay lady lay” by Gemma Hayes and Magnet. I know the original is from Bob Dylan, but this is the one I know better. Hah.
So, yeah, I had an awesome dream, which means I’m not going to bore you with daily stuff like gardening, harvesting, editing and all that. Seriously, it was great so I’m totally going to share that.
Right, here we go.
The sound was deafening. A high screech much like that of summertime cicadas resounding across barren hills and valleys. In the distance some green vegetation broke the infinite stretch of gray and yellow. But it was a mediocre change, one that meant little for me as I resided there where heat sweltered, the atmosphere still, yet undulating. Air literally simmering around me, the sun beating down from it’s high perch as I squatted on the hilltop. Below me, deep down a jagged rock wall, a ravine slashed from east to west. No matter which way I looked, it slashed through the land, a physical boundary that would allow no one to pass, no matter how badly you wanted to cross.
With the tip of a snake-leather boot, is send a rock tumbling, watched it roll down the incline and then disappeared into the ravine never to be seen again. While still listening to hear it hit the bottom, I raised a handful of sand from the ground and let it escape from my fist in a steady stream. It made a straight line down, no detour, no sway, just straight down. Not a good sign. Not now. Not ever.
Slowly, careful not to make a sound, I straightened. Brushing my hands off on the faded denim of my jeans, I slowly began my descent down to the ravine’s edge. My hat, a wide-set western affair of some tan material, protected my face from the afternoon sun, but my shoulders, revealed by the sleeveless top that covered my upper body, were bare to the constant assault.
Rubble rolled ahead of me, my feet having trouble finding purchase on the steep incline that barely allowed passage. I managed to reach the ravine’s edge, however, and came to a skidding halt.
Strangely unaffected by my fear of heights, I leaned across the edge to peer down. Nothing. Ten feet down from the top, nothing except blackness replaced the reddish edges of the ravine.
From below an awful stench rose, and though pungent it did not rise higher than about three feet above the ravine.
Without taking my eyes off the blackness, my hand slipped down to my thigh and grabbed hold of the revolver I wore there. The worn grip fit perfectly in my hand, and checked the ammunition before I dropped it back into the leather holster. With a final look around I edged closer to the edge of the ravine and peered around until I saw what I was looking for. There, to the left, was a narrow ledge. It was little more than nine feet down, and yet it seemed an interminable drop.
One last look around. Only barren desert and no breeze to lighten the impact of the sun. With one final breath, I took three leaping steps and jumped down.
Heat and dirt swirled around me. And then a jarring sensation under the bottom of my feet now that I hit the ledge. I went through my knees, cushioned the fall as best I could with flexing muscles and then went into a controlled roll that had me end up on one bent knee, the revolver once again in my hand.
Suspiciously I squinted into the darkness, noted the deeper recesses where the grayish light from above wouldn’t reach and then settled on the ledge that slashed downward at a 25 degree slant.
Knowing, without knowing how, that I had to go that way, I kept the gun in hand and started down the sloping path. It looked hand-hewn to me, sharp edges where chisel and hammer had been used in countless hours of manual labor that would have been back breaking.
Cautiously I made my way down, the gun in my hand unwavering on the darkness ahead of me, and my ears sharpened for anything threatening. My feet, the smooth leather soles of the boots giving little purchase, skid and slide on the steep path, but I manage to hold my course as I descend deeper and deeper into the darkness.
“Thrrrit!”
I jump at the sound, my finger on the trigger almost tightening as I spin around. Nothing. Behind me the path is lit better than before, and there’s no sign either in front of behind me of whatever it was making the sound.
My breath leaks out gradually, silently too, as I lower my weapon just a little and resume my way down.
Ten more steps and then, “Thrrrit, thrrrit.” I ground my teeth, repeat the procedure of before but see nothing, not behind and not in front. Instead, if my guess is correct, the sound appeared to have come from the side, there where the path doesn’t go and where few hundred-foot plunge was my only problem.
Wearily, I pan the darkness, unsure whether to continue downward, or head back up where the light at least will aid me. There is no choice, really. It is essential that I get to the bottom of the ravine, no matter what.
Determined, I once again continue on my way. The ridge, or ledge, appears to go on endlessly, but I am relentless. I hear the Thrrrit sounds three more times, but other than that there is nothing to stop me from going down into the abyss of blackness.
There, some odd hundred feet down, I suddenly see something. A red glow, fire almost sizzles it seems. Like a serpent of sorts, it slithers and crawls across the ravine bottom, its movements lazy and fascinating.
My progress stopped, I can only stare down at where the orange light coils and stretches, and I wonder, once again, if I am doing the right thing. Still no choice. I know it. Feel it. And with a deep fortifying breath I continue on my way.
“Thrrrit. Thrrrit. Thrrrit!” Used to the sound by now, I am almost too late to dodge to the side when something scaly, something huge bursts from the darkness.
“Shit, shit, shit!” I chant, quickly backing up, and bringing the revolved up to aim. I manage only one shot before something sharp slices across my wrist, numbing my fingers to the point that I lose hold of the gun.
It all went to fast, I only have a vague impression of scaly, moth-like wings, a massive almost shaggy head, and a snake’s tail.
My gun thuds to the ground, as I dodge to the side in the nick of time. Rolling under an overhang, I only take a moment to glance at my wrist. Liquid circles it like a bracelet, and though I cannot see the color, I know that I’m bleeding. It doesn’t hurt. Not yet. It will, though. Soon.
Gnawing my lip, I look at the ledge, and my gun, before I take a survey of the surrounding darkness. Nothing. The sound isn’t there either and with a fortifying breath I force myself to get to my feet. I’m a bit dizzy, but I manage to keep my balance as I rush to the weapon and scoop it up. My right hand won’t hold the weapon, but luckily my left can cope in an emergency.
Clasping it tightly, I start to run, my ears primed for the warning sound. This time I’m prepared, at a slight curb the thrrrit thrrrit come from straight ahead and I don’t hesitate as I raise the gun and fire. No effect, it seems, and it, whatever it is, keeps coming at me. Rather than do what every instinct inside me is screaming for me to do, I duck, just as it reaches me, and push away from the ledge. Mid-air I curl my body up tight, and stretch out just as I reach the ground. With bone-jarring impact I land, refuse to go down and spin on my heel.
The thrrrit, thrrrit is right above me, and I go flat out on my back as I fire at the shaggy face just three feet away from my own.
A scream, my own or the creatures, I don’t know, fills my ears and then it’s over. My alarm goes off, and I blink up at the wooden slats of my cabin.
*sigh*
Seriously, I would have liked to know what the curly fire thing at the bottom of the ravine was, but what the heck. Maybe I’ll continue with the dream some other night. It would be grand, wouldn’t it, a sequel dream. Ah well, we’ll see.
Last bit:
Today was mostly about preparing for tomorrow’s canning session, thank you very much. I washed pots while grandpa and big brother washed the basin walls and floor with some sort of acid (we want to paint it two days from now) and then cooked supper with tenant and caregiver. Since we’ve got a big load of cucumbers, we also experimented with gazpacho, which didn’t turn out bad at all.
The melon harvest is doing splendid, by the way. We’ve got more than twenty melons in various stages of being ready and have been eating an average of 2-3 melons a day, for several days now. Yummy.
Well, I’ve got to go.
So, yeah, I had an awesome dream, which means I’m not going to bore you with daily stuff like gardening, harvesting, editing and all that. Seriously, it was great so I’m totally going to share that.
Right, here we go.
The sound was deafening. A high screech much like that of summertime cicadas resounding across barren hills and valleys. In the distance some green vegetation broke the infinite stretch of gray and yellow. But it was a mediocre change, one that meant little for me as I resided there where heat sweltered, the atmosphere still, yet undulating. Air literally simmering around me, the sun beating down from it’s high perch as I squatted on the hilltop. Below me, deep down a jagged rock wall, a ravine slashed from east to west. No matter which way I looked, it slashed through the land, a physical boundary that would allow no one to pass, no matter how badly you wanted to cross.
With the tip of a snake-leather boot, is send a rock tumbling, watched it roll down the incline and then disappeared into the ravine never to be seen again. While still listening to hear it hit the bottom, I raised a handful of sand from the ground and let it escape from my fist in a steady stream. It made a straight line down, no detour, no sway, just straight down. Not a good sign. Not now. Not ever.
Slowly, careful not to make a sound, I straightened. Brushing my hands off on the faded denim of my jeans, I slowly began my descent down to the ravine’s edge. My hat, a wide-set western affair of some tan material, protected my face from the afternoon sun, but my shoulders, revealed by the sleeveless top that covered my upper body, were bare to the constant assault.
Rubble rolled ahead of me, my feet having trouble finding purchase on the steep incline that barely allowed passage. I managed to reach the ravine’s edge, however, and came to a skidding halt.
Strangely unaffected by my fear of heights, I leaned across the edge to peer down. Nothing. Ten feet down from the top, nothing except blackness replaced the reddish edges of the ravine.
From below an awful stench rose, and though pungent it did not rise higher than about three feet above the ravine.
Without taking my eyes off the blackness, my hand slipped down to my thigh and grabbed hold of the revolver I wore there. The worn grip fit perfectly in my hand, and checked the ammunition before I dropped it back into the leather holster. With a final look around I edged closer to the edge of the ravine and peered around until I saw what I was looking for. There, to the left, was a narrow ledge. It was little more than nine feet down, and yet it seemed an interminable drop.
One last look around. Only barren desert and no breeze to lighten the impact of the sun. With one final breath, I took three leaping steps and jumped down.
Heat and dirt swirled around me. And then a jarring sensation under the bottom of my feet now that I hit the ledge. I went through my knees, cushioned the fall as best I could with flexing muscles and then went into a controlled roll that had me end up on one bent knee, the revolver once again in my hand.
Suspiciously I squinted into the darkness, noted the deeper recesses where the grayish light from above wouldn’t reach and then settled on the ledge that slashed downward at a 25 degree slant.
Knowing, without knowing how, that I had to go that way, I kept the gun in hand and started down the sloping path. It looked hand-hewn to me, sharp edges where chisel and hammer had been used in countless hours of manual labor that would have been back breaking.
Cautiously I made my way down, the gun in my hand unwavering on the darkness ahead of me, and my ears sharpened for anything threatening. My feet, the smooth leather soles of the boots giving little purchase, skid and slide on the steep path, but I manage to hold my course as I descend deeper and deeper into the darkness.
“Thrrrit!”
I jump at the sound, my finger on the trigger almost tightening as I spin around. Nothing. Behind me the path is lit better than before, and there’s no sign either in front of behind me of whatever it was making the sound.
My breath leaks out gradually, silently too, as I lower my weapon just a little and resume my way down.
Ten more steps and then, “Thrrrit, thrrrit.” I ground my teeth, repeat the procedure of before but see nothing, not behind and not in front. Instead, if my guess is correct, the sound appeared to have come from the side, there where the path doesn’t go and where few hundred-foot plunge was my only problem.
Wearily, I pan the darkness, unsure whether to continue downward, or head back up where the light at least will aid me. There is no choice, really. It is essential that I get to the bottom of the ravine, no matter what.
Determined, I once again continue on my way. The ridge, or ledge, appears to go on endlessly, but I am relentless. I hear the Thrrrit sounds three more times, but other than that there is nothing to stop me from going down into the abyss of blackness.
There, some odd hundred feet down, I suddenly see something. A red glow, fire almost sizzles it seems. Like a serpent of sorts, it slithers and crawls across the ravine bottom, its movements lazy and fascinating.
My progress stopped, I can only stare down at where the orange light coils and stretches, and I wonder, once again, if I am doing the right thing. Still no choice. I know it. Feel it. And with a deep fortifying breath I continue on my way.
“Thrrrit. Thrrrit. Thrrrit!” Used to the sound by now, I am almost too late to dodge to the side when something scaly, something huge bursts from the darkness.
“Shit, shit, shit!” I chant, quickly backing up, and bringing the revolved up to aim. I manage only one shot before something sharp slices across my wrist, numbing my fingers to the point that I lose hold of the gun.
It all went to fast, I only have a vague impression of scaly, moth-like wings, a massive almost shaggy head, and a snake’s tail.
My gun thuds to the ground, as I dodge to the side in the nick of time. Rolling under an overhang, I only take a moment to glance at my wrist. Liquid circles it like a bracelet, and though I cannot see the color, I know that I’m bleeding. It doesn’t hurt. Not yet. It will, though. Soon.
Gnawing my lip, I look at the ledge, and my gun, before I take a survey of the surrounding darkness. Nothing. The sound isn’t there either and with a fortifying breath I force myself to get to my feet. I’m a bit dizzy, but I manage to keep my balance as I rush to the weapon and scoop it up. My right hand won’t hold the weapon, but luckily my left can cope in an emergency.
Clasping it tightly, I start to run, my ears primed for the warning sound. This time I’m prepared, at a slight curb the thrrrit thrrrit come from straight ahead and I don’t hesitate as I raise the gun and fire. No effect, it seems, and it, whatever it is, keeps coming at me. Rather than do what every instinct inside me is screaming for me to do, I duck, just as it reaches me, and push away from the ledge. Mid-air I curl my body up tight, and stretch out just as I reach the ground. With bone-jarring impact I land, refuse to go down and spin on my heel.
The thrrrit, thrrrit is right above me, and I go flat out on my back as I fire at the shaggy face just three feet away from my own.
A scream, my own or the creatures, I don’t know, fills my ears and then it’s over. My alarm goes off, and I blink up at the wooden slats of my cabin.
*sigh*
Seriously, I would have liked to know what the curly fire thing at the bottom of the ravine was, but what the heck. Maybe I’ll continue with the dream some other night. It would be grand, wouldn’t it, a sequel dream. Ah well, we’ll see.
Last bit:
Today was mostly about preparing for tomorrow’s canning session, thank you very much. I washed pots while grandpa and big brother washed the basin walls and floor with some sort of acid (we want to paint it two days from now) and then cooked supper with tenant and caregiver. Since we’ve got a big load of cucumbers, we also experimented with gazpacho, which didn’t turn out bad at all.
The melon harvest is doing splendid, by the way. We’ve got more than twenty melons in various stages of being ready and have been eating an average of 2-3 melons a day, for several days now. Yummy.
Well, I’ve got to go.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
What dreams may come :-)
Song of the day: “This is it” by Michael Jackson...and Ray Charles' “Hit the Road Jack”. I know, weird combination, but what the hey. There’s no thought nor rhyme to how my brain works sometimes…if it works at all. Hah.
Okay, I had a marvellous dream so we’re going to sidetrack a bit as I tell ya about it.
Here goes:
The moons: Like sentinels they shine from their spot just a hand’s breath from the horizon. Blue gray is their misty backdrop, a pearlish pink their own color as the leaves of trees trill excitedly behind me giving me a sense of something that is about to happen. Something grand. Something important.
A northern breeze tumbles though vine and branch, purplish hues only rarely interrupted by dark green and lavender blue. This place, this world is familiar to me, and yet there is an alien quality to it that always hits me when I visit.
Bright yellow, contrasting sharply against purple and green, catches myt eye.
Amidst sunny yellow petals, pointy to the edge of sharpness, deep orange tendrils curl elegantly in the twilight breeze.
I hear a whistle, deep and resonant, coming from the beautiful pallet of color on the edge of the jungle.
Drawn towards it like a piece of metal to a magnet, I carefully pick my way through black jagged rocks, knee high, olive green grass (their stems in bloom with a fluffy pink puffs) and big-leaved under brushes.
My feet are bare, and yet the uneven soil doesn’t hurt them. So are my legs, but the stems of bush and grass alike are gentle as I make my way through them. Lithely I bounce from the clearing’s rock edge, leaving behind the long-stretching valley that lay within the mists of filmy grays. I am headed for the jungle edge, making my way closer to the deep yellow flower and the melodious whistling.
The whistle, more like divine singing to my ears, harmonizes beautifully with the orchestra of leaf and branch swaying overhead.
I reach the yellow flower in a whirlwind of fluffs, darting in the wind until I am surrounded by a misty pink, and gaze upon it’s deep center where something infinitely darker, something distinctly furry, perches upon the tendril of the football-sized core.
It is tiny, no bigger than a fist, and reminiscent of a miniature monkey, or a lemur even. It sits on its hind legs, with tiny hands curled in front of it as if in prayer.
Huge eyes (bugging almost and slightly to the sides of its head) are closed and its face is tilted upward towards the light violet sky as it sings its heart out.
It is a sorrowful song, and yet hopeful and I watch the little creature in amazement. In fact I feel awed while I listen to it sing in eloquent high notes that appear to trill higher and higher.
Thick dark lashes fan delicately on soft and wrinkled, pinkish skin. Similarly dark is the creature’s fur, which leaves only its dainty face and slender digits exposed.
The Paranty (that’s what the species is called) looks like a stunning mix of pink and ebony and is softer than angora wool.
Though previously unaware of anyone nearby, the Paranty feels my breath brush across its fur and suddenly ceases its evening chant to open its eyes and look straight at me. Huge emerald colored eyes blink up at me, the vertical slits of its pupils of a bright orange, pulsing as it brings my face into focus.
His (I know it’s a male) black button nose scrunches up and then wiggles before it opens it’s tiny mouth and flits a split tongue in my direction. I am well aware that Paranties, though harmless (even cute) looking, have in fact an extremely poisonous tooth and nature that, should they decide that you’re the enemy you’re as good as dead. But I don’t feel fear as I raise my hand invitingly and click my tongue to get it to hop up on my crooked finger.
Coquettishly he blinks his lashes at me, and then extends a miniature hand to grab hold of my thumb. Using that as leverage, he lightly jumps up from its deep orange perch (taking powdery pollen along) and settles comfortably on my hand.
Once there, the Paranty begins a cheerful chatter (it reminds me of crickets and cicadas) as I start into the jungle, smiling all the while at my companion’s cheerfulness.
A thick carpet of moss squishes beneath my toes and all around white, pink and yellow flowers peak through the purple and green foliage.
Soft rustling, quiet whispers and a pale play of moonlight sparkling like tiny diamonds on the early evening dew create a distracting whole as I gradually make my way through the closely clustered trees.
A tan colored tunic (grayish in the moonlight) covers me from neck to knees, and a small dagger is strapped to my hip. Small braids on either side of my face dangle in view every now and then, but I am not surprised at them. I have been here many times before and as I make my way deeper and deeper into the jungle, small fireflies begin to dance lightly into the air.
The Paranty is delighted by the sight, reaches into the air like a young child trying to reach its toy, but they are too fast for him.
“It’s okay,” I soothe him, petting his round little skull affectionately when he pouts at the fast little bugs. “They’re not edible anyway.” That seems to cheer the Paranty considerably, and with a high whistle it darts up my arm to settle in the folds of my hair where he can enjoy the warmth. Paranties love warmth, you see, and they love nothing more than to nestle against you.
Up ahead I can hear the sound of water running over rocks, and I slow my pace as I peer up ahead. There, over the slosh-slosh of the small spring, I can hear soft voices talk and laugh, filling the night air with good cheer.
Just a few paces farther the woods break open, showing the silvery light of the moons in all its glory in this place where water sets to light soft yellow rock. I pause on the edge of the forest, blink up at the two moons overhead--they are almost blinding--and then turn my gaze to the spring.
Fey and delicate a small group child-like figures make the beautiful night world around me disappear. In wonder I watch the elves (I know that they are that) play and laugh within the beams of moonlight. Pink puffs and yellow pollen dust swirl around them as large plumes of reed sway gently in their midst. Infinitely pure in their every appearance, from their pointy little ears to the large almond eyes, gold and amber hair and the filmy wings that flutter on their backs, they are a sight to behold.
Their clothes are a gathering of thing materials that both cling and flow, showing straps of leather and flowery decorations upon their lithe little bodies.
A couple is chasing a young looking elf in light blue, her hair shimmering like pearls in the light of the moons as she jumps from rock to rock and they vaults up the waterfall with barely a pause. Her laughter trills through the air, even as the others come in her pursuit.
I don’t know what alerted them, but one moment they are fully intent on their play and the next they freeze in place. I don’t hear anything at first, but then in the distance I can hear the rumble of something large, something strong, something infinitely dangerous.
I am not sure how I know this, since I have no memory of whatever is making the racket, but even as the elves turn towards the west, I push through the bushes and stare up at the starlit sky. Within my hair, in the juncture of my neck and shoulder, the Paranty whimpers, pulls the strands tighter around him as within the distance a brightening dot of light draws my attention.
I stumble and stare, much like the elves are, as the light becomes bigger and closer, the rumble turning into a deafening roar as the foliage around us begins to stir in earnest while the wind picks up considerably.
Something is not right. I know that even though it looks like a falling star, it isn’t, and call to the elves, who are unable to hear me over the ever-increasing roar.
Then the approaching light shifts, and beyond it I can see a rocket tremble into a vertical position. Though I have never seen one before (at least not in this dream) the rocket’s engines scream at the pull of gravity, flicker and adjust in this somewhat messy ascend right here in the midst of the unblemished jungle.
Horrified I watch it come closer, and closer still, feel the heat of the blinding exhaust fire upon my face while the elves point and scream in horror when the first treetops begin to burn.
“We have to get out of here,” I call desperately, feeling the heat become unbearable on every piece of exposed skin.
Though I doubt that they can actually hear me, the elves too begin to back away. Trees and vines sweep back and forth with the onslaught of heat and wind, wood begins to snap as the white-hot burner clears the way down.
Fire snarls to life all around as my companions and I begin to run, head into the forest in hopes of evading the unbearable heat of that engine. It is right behind us, and until we reach the edge of the delta there is no relief from it.
We tumble down the steep incline and are instantly relieved at the sudden presence of coolness when we come to an unsteady halt at the bottom of the jungle delta. Over the tops of the trees, some of them still alight with bright red fire, we can see the blunt blackness of the rocket tower high into the night air.
It is massive, a good fifty yards high, I’m sure, and more than a little forbidding in this world of color and softness.
Breathing fast, I glance around at the big-eyed elves around me. There are seven of us, me included, and we all know that the ship from space is a threat to all we hold dear.
“We must go back,” one of the elves, a silver haired male with a sharp Mohawk on his head, hisses, his small hand reaching for the small, narrow sword he carries on his back. “We must do something.”
We all agree, knowing somehow that if we do not, we are all doomed. Even the Paranty on my shoulder snarls dangerously, it’s sharp teeth chattering as it gestures angrily in the direction of the ship.
And that was around the time I woke up, much to my regret. It wasn’t a startling wake up, like usual, but a gradual one that allowed me to continue dreaming for a bit…but in such a vague state that nothing of the continuing story registered. Darn it!
So frustrating, this dreaming stuff without real endings, but at least this wasn’t as abrupt as some.
Okay, on to the business at hand…or whatever the heck you want to call my sum ups. Hah.
We’re still working on the folding table by the washing machine, but since I had to take Sally to her doctor’s appointment and then head for the city to pick up the Daewoo (it got fixed this morning) so I wasn’t actually at home until later today.
There was some distinct gardening, we turned earth for a large patch of potatoes which should go in soon, one of these days. It was actually kind of nice digging the earth up, even if the weather wasn’t all that good and clouds kept sliding in front of the sun. Since we were busy anyway, I also pulled a big load of weeds and checked the fruit trees.
Also did some more cleaning in the garden pit, sorting through pots and treys and putting it all out of the way, rather than have them lying about in the dirt. Oh, which reminds me, the first tomatoes are forming in the greenhouse. Yay! Seriously, there are maybe two or three kinds, which is definitely a good thing. Nothing like veggies from your own yard, you know. Everything is much tastier (sweeter, I guess) when it’s been grown on fresh soil.
The edit didn’t go all that fast yesterday, but the progress was a good one, considering we found several errors that could have caused some serious trouble in the future.
I should get to reading on soon, because let’s face it, I took way too long writing this dream down. *sigh*
I did some cooking, a veggie lentil paste on macaroni which worked out remarkably well, if I do say so myself. Considering my deficits I am trying to find easy and nice ways to prepare palsies, because let’s face it: they’re easy and cheap.
The Knight's tail is doing splendid now. He's finally giving his tail a rest, and today I could even have him walk around without that stupid cone...on a bad note, Touri's got an actual lump again, which appears to pain him every now and then. *sigh* It makes me incredibly sad.
Okay, that’s it. Gotta go.
Okay, I had a marvellous dream so we’re going to sidetrack a bit as I tell ya about it.
Here goes:
The moons: Like sentinels they shine from their spot just a hand’s breath from the horizon. Blue gray is their misty backdrop, a pearlish pink their own color as the leaves of trees trill excitedly behind me giving me a sense of something that is about to happen. Something grand. Something important.
A northern breeze tumbles though vine and branch, purplish hues only rarely interrupted by dark green and lavender blue. This place, this world is familiar to me, and yet there is an alien quality to it that always hits me when I visit.
Bright yellow, contrasting sharply against purple and green, catches myt eye.
Amidst sunny yellow petals, pointy to the edge of sharpness, deep orange tendrils curl elegantly in the twilight breeze.
I hear a whistle, deep and resonant, coming from the beautiful pallet of color on the edge of the jungle.
Drawn towards it like a piece of metal to a magnet, I carefully pick my way through black jagged rocks, knee high, olive green grass (their stems in bloom with a fluffy pink puffs) and big-leaved under brushes.
My feet are bare, and yet the uneven soil doesn’t hurt them. So are my legs, but the stems of bush and grass alike are gentle as I make my way through them. Lithely I bounce from the clearing’s rock edge, leaving behind the long-stretching valley that lay within the mists of filmy grays. I am headed for the jungle edge, making my way closer to the deep yellow flower and the melodious whistling.
The whistle, more like divine singing to my ears, harmonizes beautifully with the orchestra of leaf and branch swaying overhead.
I reach the yellow flower in a whirlwind of fluffs, darting in the wind until I am surrounded by a misty pink, and gaze upon it’s deep center where something infinitely darker, something distinctly furry, perches upon the tendril of the football-sized core.
It is tiny, no bigger than a fist, and reminiscent of a miniature monkey, or a lemur even. It sits on its hind legs, with tiny hands curled in front of it as if in prayer.
Huge eyes (bugging almost and slightly to the sides of its head) are closed and its face is tilted upward towards the light violet sky as it sings its heart out.
It is a sorrowful song, and yet hopeful and I watch the little creature in amazement. In fact I feel awed while I listen to it sing in eloquent high notes that appear to trill higher and higher.
Thick dark lashes fan delicately on soft and wrinkled, pinkish skin. Similarly dark is the creature’s fur, which leaves only its dainty face and slender digits exposed.
The Paranty (that’s what the species is called) looks like a stunning mix of pink and ebony and is softer than angora wool.
Though previously unaware of anyone nearby, the Paranty feels my breath brush across its fur and suddenly ceases its evening chant to open its eyes and look straight at me. Huge emerald colored eyes blink up at me, the vertical slits of its pupils of a bright orange, pulsing as it brings my face into focus.
His (I know it’s a male) black button nose scrunches up and then wiggles before it opens it’s tiny mouth and flits a split tongue in my direction. I am well aware that Paranties, though harmless (even cute) looking, have in fact an extremely poisonous tooth and nature that, should they decide that you’re the enemy you’re as good as dead. But I don’t feel fear as I raise my hand invitingly and click my tongue to get it to hop up on my crooked finger.
Coquettishly he blinks his lashes at me, and then extends a miniature hand to grab hold of my thumb. Using that as leverage, he lightly jumps up from its deep orange perch (taking powdery pollen along) and settles comfortably on my hand.
Once there, the Paranty begins a cheerful chatter (it reminds me of crickets and cicadas) as I start into the jungle, smiling all the while at my companion’s cheerfulness.
A thick carpet of moss squishes beneath my toes and all around white, pink and yellow flowers peak through the purple and green foliage.
Soft rustling, quiet whispers and a pale play of moonlight sparkling like tiny diamonds on the early evening dew create a distracting whole as I gradually make my way through the closely clustered trees.
A tan colored tunic (grayish in the moonlight) covers me from neck to knees, and a small dagger is strapped to my hip. Small braids on either side of my face dangle in view every now and then, but I am not surprised at them. I have been here many times before and as I make my way deeper and deeper into the jungle, small fireflies begin to dance lightly into the air.
The Paranty is delighted by the sight, reaches into the air like a young child trying to reach its toy, but they are too fast for him.
“It’s okay,” I soothe him, petting his round little skull affectionately when he pouts at the fast little bugs. “They’re not edible anyway.” That seems to cheer the Paranty considerably, and with a high whistle it darts up my arm to settle in the folds of my hair where he can enjoy the warmth. Paranties love warmth, you see, and they love nothing more than to nestle against you.
Up ahead I can hear the sound of water running over rocks, and I slow my pace as I peer up ahead. There, over the slosh-slosh of the small spring, I can hear soft voices talk and laugh, filling the night air with good cheer.
Just a few paces farther the woods break open, showing the silvery light of the moons in all its glory in this place where water sets to light soft yellow rock. I pause on the edge of the forest, blink up at the two moons overhead--they are almost blinding--and then turn my gaze to the spring.
Fey and delicate a small group child-like figures make the beautiful night world around me disappear. In wonder I watch the elves (I know that they are that) play and laugh within the beams of moonlight. Pink puffs and yellow pollen dust swirl around them as large plumes of reed sway gently in their midst. Infinitely pure in their every appearance, from their pointy little ears to the large almond eyes, gold and amber hair and the filmy wings that flutter on their backs, they are a sight to behold.
Their clothes are a gathering of thing materials that both cling and flow, showing straps of leather and flowery decorations upon their lithe little bodies.
A couple is chasing a young looking elf in light blue, her hair shimmering like pearls in the light of the moons as she jumps from rock to rock and they vaults up the waterfall with barely a pause. Her laughter trills through the air, even as the others come in her pursuit.
I don’t know what alerted them, but one moment they are fully intent on their play and the next they freeze in place. I don’t hear anything at first, but then in the distance I can hear the rumble of something large, something strong, something infinitely dangerous.
I am not sure how I know this, since I have no memory of whatever is making the racket, but even as the elves turn towards the west, I push through the bushes and stare up at the starlit sky. Within my hair, in the juncture of my neck and shoulder, the Paranty whimpers, pulls the strands tighter around him as within the distance a brightening dot of light draws my attention.
I stumble and stare, much like the elves are, as the light becomes bigger and closer, the rumble turning into a deafening roar as the foliage around us begins to stir in earnest while the wind picks up considerably.
Something is not right. I know that even though it looks like a falling star, it isn’t, and call to the elves, who are unable to hear me over the ever-increasing roar.
Then the approaching light shifts, and beyond it I can see a rocket tremble into a vertical position. Though I have never seen one before (at least not in this dream) the rocket’s engines scream at the pull of gravity, flicker and adjust in this somewhat messy ascend right here in the midst of the unblemished jungle.
Horrified I watch it come closer, and closer still, feel the heat of the blinding exhaust fire upon my face while the elves point and scream in horror when the first treetops begin to burn.
“We have to get out of here,” I call desperately, feeling the heat become unbearable on every piece of exposed skin.
Though I doubt that they can actually hear me, the elves too begin to back away. Trees and vines sweep back and forth with the onslaught of heat and wind, wood begins to snap as the white-hot burner clears the way down.
Fire snarls to life all around as my companions and I begin to run, head into the forest in hopes of evading the unbearable heat of that engine. It is right behind us, and until we reach the edge of the delta there is no relief from it.
We tumble down the steep incline and are instantly relieved at the sudden presence of coolness when we come to an unsteady halt at the bottom of the jungle delta. Over the tops of the trees, some of them still alight with bright red fire, we can see the blunt blackness of the rocket tower high into the night air.
It is massive, a good fifty yards high, I’m sure, and more than a little forbidding in this world of color and softness.
Breathing fast, I glance around at the big-eyed elves around me. There are seven of us, me included, and we all know that the ship from space is a threat to all we hold dear.
“We must go back,” one of the elves, a silver haired male with a sharp Mohawk on his head, hisses, his small hand reaching for the small, narrow sword he carries on his back. “We must do something.”
We all agree, knowing somehow that if we do not, we are all doomed. Even the Paranty on my shoulder snarls dangerously, it’s sharp teeth chattering as it gestures angrily in the direction of the ship.
And that was around the time I woke up, much to my regret. It wasn’t a startling wake up, like usual, but a gradual one that allowed me to continue dreaming for a bit…but in such a vague state that nothing of the continuing story registered. Darn it!
So frustrating, this dreaming stuff without real endings, but at least this wasn’t as abrupt as some.
Okay, on to the business at hand…or whatever the heck you want to call my sum ups. Hah.
We’re still working on the folding table by the washing machine, but since I had to take Sally to her doctor’s appointment and then head for the city to pick up the Daewoo (it got fixed this morning) so I wasn’t actually at home until later today.
There was some distinct gardening, we turned earth for a large patch of potatoes which should go in soon, one of these days. It was actually kind of nice digging the earth up, even if the weather wasn’t all that good and clouds kept sliding in front of the sun. Since we were busy anyway, I also pulled a big load of weeds and checked the fruit trees.
Also did some more cleaning in the garden pit, sorting through pots and treys and putting it all out of the way, rather than have them lying about in the dirt. Oh, which reminds me, the first tomatoes are forming in the greenhouse. Yay! Seriously, there are maybe two or three kinds, which is definitely a good thing. Nothing like veggies from your own yard, you know. Everything is much tastier (sweeter, I guess) when it’s been grown on fresh soil.
The edit didn’t go all that fast yesterday, but the progress was a good one, considering we found several errors that could have caused some serious trouble in the future.
I should get to reading on soon, because let’s face it, I took way too long writing this dream down. *sigh*
I did some cooking, a veggie lentil paste on macaroni which worked out remarkably well, if I do say so myself. Considering my deficits I am trying to find easy and nice ways to prepare palsies, because let’s face it: they’re easy and cheap.
The Knight's tail is doing splendid now. He's finally giving his tail a rest, and today I could even have him walk around without that stupid cone...on a bad note, Touri's got an actual lump again, which appears to pain him every now and then. *sigh* It makes me incredibly sad.
Okay, that’s it. Gotta go.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
No sense at all
Song of the day: “Can’t stop loving you” by Phil Collins. Very appropriate since I had a rather wonderfully romantic dream this night. I mean really, this is more like it. A different dream at last…the beginning anyway. (And I like to Then it got freaky again, so…well, you’ll see, I guess. Let’s get to it fast.
The air is hot and sultry, a faint blush of sunshine dancing wildly over the thick canopy of clouds lying heavily on the horizon. The waves crash noisily on the surf, the scent of sea and beach prominent. There is already a hint of the storm in the air, that tangy, sparkly presence which prophesises heavy rains and strong winds.
Palm trees sway lazily still, but the rustling of leaves has increased what with the pending storm.
Dressed in a turquoise bikini and a light cotton wrap, I stand in the surf. Water laps at my feet, cool yet warm at the same time. It makes the sand shift underneath my bare feet while I stare out over the water surface. In the distance a big freighter chugs east, cutting a swath through the waves with hardly any effort.
I’m waiting for something, someone, and inside me there’s a restlessness that is getting stronger by the second. I clench and unclench my hand, feel tendons and muscles pull when behind me I hear Knight II approach. A glance back at him, shows him traipsing about, chaos at his side as they follow some indistinct scent close to the cluster of trees. A soft whistle from me has them join my on the shore just as the last bit of sunlight is replaced by the mysterious glow of the clear stars sparkling overhead.
The great Dane appears beside me, pushes his head under my elbow the way he usually does, and fully enjoys the petting he knows he’ll get. Chaos continues on with his “hunt” by the trees, careless of my attempt to get him to heel.
For a while I just stand there, petting Knight and watching more and more stars coming out to sparkle in the sky like diamonds on a bed of black velvet. The wind is picking up, and the cotton wrap flits around me madly. While Knight moves away again to join Chaos beyond the beach, I close my eyes and let the warm air brush over my body. It is a most pleasant sensation. It relaxes me, and when warm hands slip around my waist from behind, I am not in the least bit startled.
“Sorry I took so long,” he says quietly, his breath warm against my cheek as he pulls me up against him.
Butterflies flutter in my stomach at his nearness, the way they always do, and I lean back into him as he presses a soft kiss to the side of my neck.
“You’re here now. That’s all that matters,” I whisper, tilting my head further to the side so he can trail his lips down to my naked shoulder unhindered.
“Were you waiting long?” he wishes to know, his hands on my stomach warmly sliding underneath the wrap.
“Not too long. It just felt that way,” I assure him, resting my head back against his shoulder so I can look at him sideways. There’s a slight cleft in his chin, of course. High cheekbones under clear blue eyes that appear to be extremely dark right now. His hair, just short of being shaggy tumbles over his high forehead and I reach up to brush it back. “I missed you, Rye,” I whisper softly, a bare second before his lips touch mine.
Warmth suffuses me, those same butterflies going like mad in my belly. I close my eyes when the world around me tilts and he lays me gently down upon the sand. I can feel his weight settle on top of me when suddenly…I wake up.
I blink up at the ceiling, strangely knobby bamboo that is suspended by rough beams of what appear to be even thicker bamboo.
There is a distant drip interrupting the constant rattle of rain pounding down upon the banana leaf roof that keeps me relatively safe from the storm raging outside. I look around the small cabin, notice ancient looking furniture before I zoom in on where water drips into a black cooking pot.
Slowly I sit up, glance around the otherwise deserted looking room.
“Rye?” no answer is forthcoming, and quickly I scramble from the bed on which I’d been sleeping. My feet wobble a little on the uneven boards that make up the floor, and I stumble on my way to the open door.
Rain pours down in front of it like a sheet but beyond I can see the distant line of the horizon. White heads bob violently on the gray sea. The scent of storm in strong in the air, and off to the right I can see one of the palm trees lying flat on the beach.
In the distance dogs are barking, and I grab a slicker from the hook beside the door. “Knight. Chaos!” Neither of the dogs come running at the sound of my voice, and barefoot I pad my way off the lilting porch.
Over the rain and the barking dogs, I hear something else too. An engine maybe? I can’t be sure and start running toward the commotion.
The distance appears to be farther with every step I take, and anxiety fills me. Leaves and branches hit me in the face as I head deeper and deeper into the jungle, the dogs sounding more frantic with every second that passes. I can’t make it, they are too far away.
Suddenly the earth before me opens up, a gaping hole of dirt in the middle of the jungle, with on the other side Chaos and Knight are standing over Rye, who’s lying face down on the edge of the pit.
“Noooo!” I scream, frantically looking around in search fro the quickest way to the other side. The dogs continue to bark to something in the jungle ahead. I don’t know what is bothering them so much, but at that particular moment I don’t really care. I scramble along the edge of the hole, the ground beneath my feet unstable and sludgy even.
I reach Rye, his face pale when I carefully turn him around and cup his cheeks. “Rye. Can you hear me?” He doesn’t respond but I can see his chest move with his steady breathing. “Rye, come on, wake up. Talk to me. What happened…Knight!” The dog doesn’t hear me still, and both he and Chaos, continue to bark enthusiastically, almost attacking the bushes that sway like mad in the violent wind.
“Knight. Chaos. Come on, we’ve got to get Rye back to---“ Chaos’s squeak stops me mid sentence, and I am just barely in time to see him tumble over the ground. His momentum is so fast, that he is send tumbling down the hole. I scream; Knight is going on even more furious, and I’m about to go towards him when the bushes move apart. A gaping blackness is beyond and a violent roar fills the air, hurts my ears. I scramble back, the ground beneath my feet shifting as suddenly the edge of the hole crumbles and sends me sliding down the incline head first.
Just when I hit the bottom…I wake up.
Again I blink wildly, stare up at the clear black sky, sparkling with stars. There is a cloud that slides lazily in the corner of the square of sky visible, but other than that the storm appears to have past.
“Are you okay?” Rye appears in my vision. He is hovering over me, his expression worried and his hair sticking out every which way. Clay sticks to his skin, and I feel the stuff cake my own. My body feels numb, as if I have been motionless too long. Something warm touches the side of my face and I look to the side at where Chaos is looking at me with soulful eyes.
Suddenly I remember what happened, and I scramble into a sitting position. “What happened?” I asked, reaching for Chaos and dragging him close to check if he damaged anything during his fall. He appears to be alright, and reassured that much at least I look around in search of Knight. His familiar dark shape lounges at the top of the hole, and for as far as I can see he is just fine. At long last I look back at Rye, who squats beside me in jeans and a dirty T.
“You fell.”
“I know that. You were unconscious, though. What happened before I got here?”
“I don’t know. I---“
That roar, the one that startled me into falling in the first place, sounds again. It appears to come from all around us, making the earth beneath us trembling. Rye grabs hold of my arms and hauls me to my feet, and tightly against him as he peers around for the source.
We back up, away from blackness oozing from between madly dancing foliage. Above us Knight is barking again, and Chaos scurries between our feet as he tries to keep safely behind us.
The blackness, whatever it is, looms closer and closer, tiny sparkles inside it reminding me of the stars overhead, except this is not beautiful. It is frightening, threatening, and Rye draws me even closer, presses my face against his chest until there is only him and the sound…the sound penetrates into my brain. I can hear him say something, “I love you,” I think, but I can’t be sure. The sound makes me shiver as it transforms gradually turning from a high screeching to a deafening buzz…which turns out to be my alarm. It buzzes loudly, right before the music starts up. *sigh*
Yep, I woke for real this time.
Dontcha just hate unresolved dreams that leave you with questions about the who, what and where of things? Seriously. There was definitely not enough cohesion here for a proper story.
So anyway, I woke up to another dreary gray day, meaning that instead of the planned stucco day in the basin, another day in the carport lay ahead. Not that I mind the carport all that much, mind you, but after several days in there, I really wouldn’t mind a wee bit of sunshine and some outside activity.
But anyway. On the most part the past couple of days involved putting together those cupboards I’m doing for big brother’s room. I did in the end manage to find enough MDF for them, and together with Dani set the last three up today.
What else. Well, yesterday middle sister found a new home for her turtles. The poor creatures were definitely getting to be too big for the container in which they lived and since they would do so much better in a warmer place than our porch. Seriously, middle sister was forced to put warmth elements with it, a heat lamp and thermal blankets around it every day. Now they hopefully have a better home with other people.
This morning was spent cleaning up the shelving of the turtles and tackling the mess around it. Strangely enough I’ve been in a cleaning mood these past couple of days. I’ve cleaned up a lot in my cabin; shelves, beams of the ceiling, washing windows, you name it. Considering things have been a mess for a while, this is definitely not a bad thing. Hah.
Yesterday little sister went to her job for the second time, and I think she was rather tired afterwards. So difficult, a first job. It is really all about learning how to handle the “bosses”, eh.
There was time spent in the greenhouse. Tomato seeds are coming up now too. Yay. And twenty three pumpkin seeds came up, meaning that every single seed managed. Rather surprising, that.
What else…Well, the edit for A.I.L. is going well. We went through the first three chapters now so we should be able to start sending that out within the next few weeks. The most important thing now is getting the query letter together, really. There are definitely some good parts there already, but it needs to be fine-tuned yet, to say the least.
Well, Personally I am hoping for a sunny day tomorrow, but what with this winter’s luck, weather wise, I’m not going to hold my breath. Gotta go. There is definitely more work to do yet, and I would like to be in bed in time tonight. Hah.
The air is hot and sultry, a faint blush of sunshine dancing wildly over the thick canopy of clouds lying heavily on the horizon. The waves crash noisily on the surf, the scent of sea and beach prominent. There is already a hint of the storm in the air, that tangy, sparkly presence which prophesises heavy rains and strong winds.
Palm trees sway lazily still, but the rustling of leaves has increased what with the pending storm.
Dressed in a turquoise bikini and a light cotton wrap, I stand in the surf. Water laps at my feet, cool yet warm at the same time. It makes the sand shift underneath my bare feet while I stare out over the water surface. In the distance a big freighter chugs east, cutting a swath through the waves with hardly any effort.
I’m waiting for something, someone, and inside me there’s a restlessness that is getting stronger by the second. I clench and unclench my hand, feel tendons and muscles pull when behind me I hear Knight II approach. A glance back at him, shows him traipsing about, chaos at his side as they follow some indistinct scent close to the cluster of trees. A soft whistle from me has them join my on the shore just as the last bit of sunlight is replaced by the mysterious glow of the clear stars sparkling overhead.
The great Dane appears beside me, pushes his head under my elbow the way he usually does, and fully enjoys the petting he knows he’ll get. Chaos continues on with his “hunt” by the trees, careless of my attempt to get him to heel.
For a while I just stand there, petting Knight and watching more and more stars coming out to sparkle in the sky like diamonds on a bed of black velvet. The wind is picking up, and the cotton wrap flits around me madly. While Knight moves away again to join Chaos beyond the beach, I close my eyes and let the warm air brush over my body. It is a most pleasant sensation. It relaxes me, and when warm hands slip around my waist from behind, I am not in the least bit startled.
“Sorry I took so long,” he says quietly, his breath warm against my cheek as he pulls me up against him.
Butterflies flutter in my stomach at his nearness, the way they always do, and I lean back into him as he presses a soft kiss to the side of my neck.
“You’re here now. That’s all that matters,” I whisper, tilting my head further to the side so he can trail his lips down to my naked shoulder unhindered.
“Were you waiting long?” he wishes to know, his hands on my stomach warmly sliding underneath the wrap.
“Not too long. It just felt that way,” I assure him, resting my head back against his shoulder so I can look at him sideways. There’s a slight cleft in his chin, of course. High cheekbones under clear blue eyes that appear to be extremely dark right now. His hair, just short of being shaggy tumbles over his high forehead and I reach up to brush it back. “I missed you, Rye,” I whisper softly, a bare second before his lips touch mine.
Warmth suffuses me, those same butterflies going like mad in my belly. I close my eyes when the world around me tilts and he lays me gently down upon the sand. I can feel his weight settle on top of me when suddenly…I wake up.
I blink up at the ceiling, strangely knobby bamboo that is suspended by rough beams of what appear to be even thicker bamboo.
There is a distant drip interrupting the constant rattle of rain pounding down upon the banana leaf roof that keeps me relatively safe from the storm raging outside. I look around the small cabin, notice ancient looking furniture before I zoom in on where water drips into a black cooking pot.
Slowly I sit up, glance around the otherwise deserted looking room.
“Rye?” no answer is forthcoming, and quickly I scramble from the bed on which I’d been sleeping. My feet wobble a little on the uneven boards that make up the floor, and I stumble on my way to the open door.
Rain pours down in front of it like a sheet but beyond I can see the distant line of the horizon. White heads bob violently on the gray sea. The scent of storm in strong in the air, and off to the right I can see one of the palm trees lying flat on the beach.
In the distance dogs are barking, and I grab a slicker from the hook beside the door. “Knight. Chaos!” Neither of the dogs come running at the sound of my voice, and barefoot I pad my way off the lilting porch.
Over the rain and the barking dogs, I hear something else too. An engine maybe? I can’t be sure and start running toward the commotion.
The distance appears to be farther with every step I take, and anxiety fills me. Leaves and branches hit me in the face as I head deeper and deeper into the jungle, the dogs sounding more frantic with every second that passes. I can’t make it, they are too far away.
Suddenly the earth before me opens up, a gaping hole of dirt in the middle of the jungle, with on the other side Chaos and Knight are standing over Rye, who’s lying face down on the edge of the pit.
“Noooo!” I scream, frantically looking around in search fro the quickest way to the other side. The dogs continue to bark to something in the jungle ahead. I don’t know what is bothering them so much, but at that particular moment I don’t really care. I scramble along the edge of the hole, the ground beneath my feet unstable and sludgy even.
I reach Rye, his face pale when I carefully turn him around and cup his cheeks. “Rye. Can you hear me?” He doesn’t respond but I can see his chest move with his steady breathing. “Rye, come on, wake up. Talk to me. What happened…Knight!” The dog doesn’t hear me still, and both he and Chaos, continue to bark enthusiastically, almost attacking the bushes that sway like mad in the violent wind.
“Knight. Chaos. Come on, we’ve got to get Rye back to---“ Chaos’s squeak stops me mid sentence, and I am just barely in time to see him tumble over the ground. His momentum is so fast, that he is send tumbling down the hole. I scream; Knight is going on even more furious, and I’m about to go towards him when the bushes move apart. A gaping blackness is beyond and a violent roar fills the air, hurts my ears. I scramble back, the ground beneath my feet shifting as suddenly the edge of the hole crumbles and sends me sliding down the incline head first.
Just when I hit the bottom…I wake up.
Again I blink wildly, stare up at the clear black sky, sparkling with stars. There is a cloud that slides lazily in the corner of the square of sky visible, but other than that the storm appears to have past.
“Are you okay?” Rye appears in my vision. He is hovering over me, his expression worried and his hair sticking out every which way. Clay sticks to his skin, and I feel the stuff cake my own. My body feels numb, as if I have been motionless too long. Something warm touches the side of my face and I look to the side at where Chaos is looking at me with soulful eyes.
Suddenly I remember what happened, and I scramble into a sitting position. “What happened?” I asked, reaching for Chaos and dragging him close to check if he damaged anything during his fall. He appears to be alright, and reassured that much at least I look around in search of Knight. His familiar dark shape lounges at the top of the hole, and for as far as I can see he is just fine. At long last I look back at Rye, who squats beside me in jeans and a dirty T.
“You fell.”
“I know that. You were unconscious, though. What happened before I got here?”
“I don’t know. I---“
That roar, the one that startled me into falling in the first place, sounds again. It appears to come from all around us, making the earth beneath us trembling. Rye grabs hold of my arms and hauls me to my feet, and tightly against him as he peers around for the source.
We back up, away from blackness oozing from between madly dancing foliage. Above us Knight is barking again, and Chaos scurries between our feet as he tries to keep safely behind us.
The blackness, whatever it is, looms closer and closer, tiny sparkles inside it reminding me of the stars overhead, except this is not beautiful. It is frightening, threatening, and Rye draws me even closer, presses my face against his chest until there is only him and the sound…the sound penetrates into my brain. I can hear him say something, “I love you,” I think, but I can’t be sure. The sound makes me shiver as it transforms gradually turning from a high screeching to a deafening buzz…which turns out to be my alarm. It buzzes loudly, right before the music starts up. *sigh*
Yep, I woke for real this time.
Dontcha just hate unresolved dreams that leave you with questions about the who, what and where of things? Seriously. There was definitely not enough cohesion here for a proper story.
So anyway, I woke up to another dreary gray day, meaning that instead of the planned stucco day in the basin, another day in the carport lay ahead. Not that I mind the carport all that much, mind you, but after several days in there, I really wouldn’t mind a wee bit of sunshine and some outside activity.
But anyway. On the most part the past couple of days involved putting together those cupboards I’m doing for big brother’s room. I did in the end manage to find enough MDF for them, and together with Dani set the last three up today.
What else. Well, yesterday middle sister found a new home for her turtles. The poor creatures were definitely getting to be too big for the container in which they lived and since they would do so much better in a warmer place than our porch. Seriously, middle sister was forced to put warmth elements with it, a heat lamp and thermal blankets around it every day. Now they hopefully have a better home with other people.
This morning was spent cleaning up the shelving of the turtles and tackling the mess around it. Strangely enough I’ve been in a cleaning mood these past couple of days. I’ve cleaned up a lot in my cabin; shelves, beams of the ceiling, washing windows, you name it. Considering things have been a mess for a while, this is definitely not a bad thing. Hah.
Yesterday little sister went to her job for the second time, and I think she was rather tired afterwards. So difficult, a first job. It is really all about learning how to handle the “bosses”, eh.
There was time spent in the greenhouse. Tomato seeds are coming up now too. Yay. And twenty three pumpkin seeds came up, meaning that every single seed managed. Rather surprising, that.
What else…Well, the edit for A.I.L. is going well. We went through the first three chapters now so we should be able to start sending that out within the next few weeks. The most important thing now is getting the query letter together, really. There are definitely some good parts there already, but it needs to be fine-tuned yet, to say the least.
Well, Personally I am hoping for a sunny day tomorrow, but what with this winter’s luck, weather wise, I’m not going to hold my breath. Gotta go. There is definitely more work to do yet, and I would like to be in bed in time tonight. Hah.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Dreams. Gotta love 'm
Song of the day: “Love 4 fun” by Enrique Iglesias. Such a cheery song. Definitely one of the better ones to have on dreary days where the sun barely shows itself. *sigh*
For the most part we’ve just been doing busywork, so let’s see if we can do something else entirely, okay? Might as well break the habit of daily reports since there really isn’t much to say other than the fact that today I fixed up a glass and wood cupboard for the kitchen. I should be able to hang it come morning, but since that will be aaar—ehm grocery shopping day I’m not holding my breath.
There was cleaning, gardening (which I loved, thank you very much. We had wonderful bread with fresh veggies from the yard. Yay) and carpentry, since we’ve been building a big chest of drawers to put in the carport. There’ll be storage aplenty. Hah.
So, different…Gawd. I still have that rather awesome (somewhat gory) dream somewhere. Let me just look that up, okay?
Right, here it is.
Sunset: On the horizon the last sliver of sunlight disappears as I stand on the lonely hill top, overlooking what appears to be an abandoned city. It isn’t. I know this for certain, even though the streets look deserted and no traffic comes or goes on the big highways leading there.
Lights shimmer mysteriously, and I step into the dilapidated Jeep Wrangler I was leaning against. The tires are bold, the paint is chipped and rusted in places, but it is mine, and my sole means of transportation.
The engine rumbles and sputters at the same time, repairs a long forgotten task in my memory as I steer the vehicle onto the gutted road that leads down the slope to the city.
I have a purpose for going to the city, and though I am not entirely sure what it is, I tighten my hands around the wheel with determination until the knuckles turn white. Fear is a cold fist in the center of my gut. On the seat beside me lies a sawed off shotgun, the box of bullets open, scattering a handful of them on the seat.
Black traffic-lights loom ahead as I approach the city limits. No movement is noticeable, but as I gradually come closer a distant howl reaches me through the slitted side window. The siren is familiar to me. It sounds like the one I remember from the monthly alarm drills, and as I draw closer and closer it becomes only louder. Louder. And louder still, hurting my ears.
Fear increases, but I deliberately push me foot down on the gas and speed down the uneven streets that could do with a new layer of asphalt. Heck, they’d do well with two, in fact.
A glance down shows that I am wearing faded and dirty jeans over army boots that are at least a size too big. On my arms blue checkered flannel has been rolled up to my elbows, showing on the inside of my lower arm a lethal looking dagger. It has been strapped to my wrist and several inches up with thin leather straps. Snug, but not uncomfortably so.
The engine bangs, making me wince, but it continues on as I head deeper into this familiar and yet completely alien city. Skyscrapers tower high into the air, empty skeletons of metal and glass, while storefronts and domiciles appear gutted and desolate by the side of the street.
I am driving east I know in some distant part of my mind, though how I know as much during the night, I am not entirely sure.
Up ahead there’s a sudden flash of movement. Whether a response to the thundering engine, or simple coincidence, I don’t know, but rather than risk heading towards it, I yank the wheel to the left. The engines peel alarmingly with the sudden change in course, but I don’t care as I head for the highest building, visible between the other high rises on either side of the street.
Why I fear the movement I saw, or why I know why I am supposed to head for that highest building, I don’t know, but I question neither as I push down the pedal and continue on my way.
The brakes squeal when I finally reach my destination. The engine almost stalls, but sputters and continues to live seconds before I grab the shotgun and hop out of the Jeep.
The siren is even louder here, it’s screech as grating to me as nails on a school board. There is an sense of impending disaster to it that pushes me to more speed than I thought possible. Time is running out. Fast. And if I do not find what I came for, my failure will be deadly.
My boots slap noisily on the dirt-covered pavement. My goal appears to be a bullet-hole riddled cinema located right beside the gigantic skyscraper.
With single-minded purpose I run to the cinema, grapple almost desperate for the heavy-duty flashlight dangling from the utility-like belt around my waist. The thing blinks on and off twice and then shines into the gaping foyer (once very grand with red velvet and inlaid gold) of the cinema. With the light slashing a way into the darkness, the shotgun a reassuring weight in my right hand, I dash into the building.
Out of breath, I reach the second landing that leads to theater number two, the stairs behind me almost ridiculously long as I turn full circle to make sure that no trap lays in wait for me.
Nothing. All is quiet except for a small family of rats scurrying into a hole beneath what used to be a luxurious refreshment stand.
Satisfied for now, I turn towards the entrance of number two and yank the door open. It squeaks noisily, making the hair in my nape stand on end, while goosebumps break out all over my body. Almost certain that this noise will have alerted some unseen enemy, I turn, aim the shotgun at the spot behind me where I’m sure a hideous monster is about to pounce. Nothing.
I am still alone, and in some peculiar way this might be even more frightening than a dangerous creature to fight against.
Warily I step through the door, going steadily backwards into the even darker theater.
In here the siren is no longer audible I am pleased to note, and yet it does not reassure me since I know that it is nothing more than a warning of something far worse to come.
“Billy!” I call the name softly, suddenly quite aware of my purpose for being there.
Billy. A young boy I met just days ago out in the country while I scavenged for supplies. He’s a tiny kid, springy hair the color of flax that should have been washed weeks ago and yet wasn’t. Dirty rags cover his skinny body…or at least they did when I first saw him, almost three days past.
“Billy! Where are you,” I try again. There is a skittering noise to the left of the big hall, filled with seats on the sloping incline. There is a distinct scent of garbage and mold in the room and overhead black fabric that once covered the ceiling in elegant folds bulges down eerily.
“Come on, Billy. We have to go!” Still nothing. I am about to give up on the big space when something, a whimper maybe draws my attention to the front where the movie screen used to be.
I aim my flashlight and shotgun at it simultaneously, and notice the pile of debris and fabric before catching the actual movement.
“Billy!” I see his skinny pale arm stick out at an odd angle and dash forward.
There on the dais he is lying. Pieces of carpet, plastic and God knows what else form some sort of nest in which he lays curled up like a fetus.
“Gawd. Billy. Are you okay. Come on, kid. Talk to me.” I place the shotgun carefully on the dais and push the materials aside to see if Billy is still alive. His lips are blue, big dark shadows cradle his eyes and his deadly white skin is sheened with perspiration. He is alive though, the weak pulse I find in his throat tells me as much.
When he turns out to be unresponsive to my prodding, I gnaw my lip in consideration for just a moment. Then, I grab the shotgun and swing it over my shoulder on the sling that is attached to it. Next, I look around in search of something I can wrap the boy in. In the end I settle on a piece of the bulging satiny fabric suspended from the ceiling. It is thin, but at least my dagger slices through it easily. Within just a few minutes I have Billy wrapped tightly within the fabric and wedge the flashlight under it so it will shine in front me when I lift him into my arms.
He is less heavy than I had anticipating and within no time whatsoever, I am heading back up to the entrance of the theater. I make short work of crossing to the stairs and heading down them. The siren outside is still screeching, and by the time I reach the main entrance, it is once again deafening. I take a final deep breath and head out into the dark street.
The flashlight on Billy’s stomach hobbles with every step I take, but stays in place. It casts a straight line in front of me, and until I reach the Wrangler, I don’t notice what is amiss until I reach it. The engine. It is not running anymore. Anxiety peaks in my gut, and I look around warily, taking the time to do a slow 360 with the light bobbing over the gaping black storefronts all around me.
I glance back at the car, see that the keys are missing. Who would do that at a time like this and not just take the car to flee? I wonder, moistening my lips and wondering what to do now. Running with Billy in my hands would do nothing. I can’t possibly get to safety in time before it hits. Not by foot.
Billy moans pitifully, and I look down at him knowing that there is only one thing to do, only one chance at survival.
Ground zero: We must get closer. Two hundred meters away from it, in fact. It is our only chance. Why, or how I know this, I’m not sure.
Taking a deep breath, I pull Billy closer and head away from the useless Jeep. Time is ticking. An actual tick tock inside my head that seems to speed up rapidly, and yet remains eerily insistent.
I know where I have to go. The exact location that will put me on the spot where Billy and I are most likely to survive. Whether I have the time to get there, remains to be seen.
Me feet fly over the pavement. I skip around debris and whatnot on my way to a marketplace at the end of the street. In my head I can see the map I had studied earlier. Less than three blocks, maybe two. The siren stops suddenly, and so does my heart, for just a fraction of a second. I am so startled I stumble and almost fall. But then I catch myself and push myself even harder.
In the distance, over the eerily hushed silence I hear a sound that is far more frightening than the siren on itself had been.
An engine. It’s roar so very powerful that it reverberated right to the very core of me.
One more block.
My side stitches, my feet pound on while my muscles scream and my lungs complain with noisy puffs.
Closer and closer the sound comes, and behind the city skyline I can see light replace the black starlit canopy overhead.
Half a block.
The light is bright now, the rumbling sound deafening as something big thunders over the roofs and casts dancing shadows around me. Debris rain down on me and Billy, but I continue on, faster still, if at all possible.
Twenty feet.
There. Right up ahead, a narrow alley looms at where I know we have our one and only chance. Just as the light dims and the earth beneath my feet tilts dangerously, I clasp Billy close to my chest and dive into the alley.
We tumble into it, my shoulder and side taking the worst of the fall when a mighty roar rips through the night. Air compresses, gets sucked away as our roll comes to an abrupt halt in the corner of the alley.
Then it happens. A massive boom followed by a blinding flash seconds that has me curl around Billy as best I can.
The heat hits me then. Searing, burning over my back like an unbearable weight. I am screaming, but no sound comes out, as the wave after wave of the massive explosion tumbles through the city and…I wake up.
Yeah, I know. I always wake up at the weirdest moments, don’t I? *sigh* Would you believe when I tell you that my back was incredibly hot after that dream. Well. No helping for it, I guess. Even in dreams my imagination takes certain liberties. Hah.
Definitely shrink material, I'm thinking...or I saw way too many disaster movies, eh?
Well, that’ll be it for today, won’t it. I’ve got the last bit of the edit to do, and considering my stomach is upset again (I hate it when that happens) and I lost my meal just a couple of hours ago, I better get to it fast. I, for one, wouldn’t mind an early night.
For the most part we’ve just been doing busywork, so let’s see if we can do something else entirely, okay? Might as well break the habit of daily reports since there really isn’t much to say other than the fact that today I fixed up a glass and wood cupboard for the kitchen. I should be able to hang it come morning, but since that will be aaar—ehm grocery shopping day I’m not holding my breath.
There was cleaning, gardening (which I loved, thank you very much. We had wonderful bread with fresh veggies from the yard. Yay) and carpentry, since we’ve been building a big chest of drawers to put in the carport. There’ll be storage aplenty. Hah.
So, different…Gawd. I still have that rather awesome (somewhat gory) dream somewhere. Let me just look that up, okay?
Right, here it is.
Sunset: On the horizon the last sliver of sunlight disappears as I stand on the lonely hill top, overlooking what appears to be an abandoned city. It isn’t. I know this for certain, even though the streets look deserted and no traffic comes or goes on the big highways leading there.
Lights shimmer mysteriously, and I step into the dilapidated Jeep Wrangler I was leaning against. The tires are bold, the paint is chipped and rusted in places, but it is mine, and my sole means of transportation.
The engine rumbles and sputters at the same time, repairs a long forgotten task in my memory as I steer the vehicle onto the gutted road that leads down the slope to the city.
I have a purpose for going to the city, and though I am not entirely sure what it is, I tighten my hands around the wheel with determination until the knuckles turn white. Fear is a cold fist in the center of my gut. On the seat beside me lies a sawed off shotgun, the box of bullets open, scattering a handful of them on the seat.
Black traffic-lights loom ahead as I approach the city limits. No movement is noticeable, but as I gradually come closer a distant howl reaches me through the slitted side window. The siren is familiar to me. It sounds like the one I remember from the monthly alarm drills, and as I draw closer and closer it becomes only louder. Louder. And louder still, hurting my ears.
Fear increases, but I deliberately push me foot down on the gas and speed down the uneven streets that could do with a new layer of asphalt. Heck, they’d do well with two, in fact.
A glance down shows that I am wearing faded and dirty jeans over army boots that are at least a size too big. On my arms blue checkered flannel has been rolled up to my elbows, showing on the inside of my lower arm a lethal looking dagger. It has been strapped to my wrist and several inches up with thin leather straps. Snug, but not uncomfortably so.
The engine bangs, making me wince, but it continues on as I head deeper into this familiar and yet completely alien city. Skyscrapers tower high into the air, empty skeletons of metal and glass, while storefronts and domiciles appear gutted and desolate by the side of the street.
I am driving east I know in some distant part of my mind, though how I know as much during the night, I am not entirely sure.
Up ahead there’s a sudden flash of movement. Whether a response to the thundering engine, or simple coincidence, I don’t know, but rather than risk heading towards it, I yank the wheel to the left. The engines peel alarmingly with the sudden change in course, but I don’t care as I head for the highest building, visible between the other high rises on either side of the street.
Why I fear the movement I saw, or why I know why I am supposed to head for that highest building, I don’t know, but I question neither as I push down the pedal and continue on my way.
The brakes squeal when I finally reach my destination. The engine almost stalls, but sputters and continues to live seconds before I grab the shotgun and hop out of the Jeep.
The siren is even louder here, it’s screech as grating to me as nails on a school board. There is an sense of impending disaster to it that pushes me to more speed than I thought possible. Time is running out. Fast. And if I do not find what I came for, my failure will be deadly.
My boots slap noisily on the dirt-covered pavement. My goal appears to be a bullet-hole riddled cinema located right beside the gigantic skyscraper.
With single-minded purpose I run to the cinema, grapple almost desperate for the heavy-duty flashlight dangling from the utility-like belt around my waist. The thing blinks on and off twice and then shines into the gaping foyer (once very grand with red velvet and inlaid gold) of the cinema. With the light slashing a way into the darkness, the shotgun a reassuring weight in my right hand, I dash into the building.
Out of breath, I reach the second landing that leads to theater number two, the stairs behind me almost ridiculously long as I turn full circle to make sure that no trap lays in wait for me.
Nothing. All is quiet except for a small family of rats scurrying into a hole beneath what used to be a luxurious refreshment stand.
Satisfied for now, I turn towards the entrance of number two and yank the door open. It squeaks noisily, making the hair in my nape stand on end, while goosebumps break out all over my body. Almost certain that this noise will have alerted some unseen enemy, I turn, aim the shotgun at the spot behind me where I’m sure a hideous monster is about to pounce. Nothing.
I am still alone, and in some peculiar way this might be even more frightening than a dangerous creature to fight against.
Warily I step through the door, going steadily backwards into the even darker theater.
In here the siren is no longer audible I am pleased to note, and yet it does not reassure me since I know that it is nothing more than a warning of something far worse to come.
“Billy!” I call the name softly, suddenly quite aware of my purpose for being there.
Billy. A young boy I met just days ago out in the country while I scavenged for supplies. He’s a tiny kid, springy hair the color of flax that should have been washed weeks ago and yet wasn’t. Dirty rags cover his skinny body…or at least they did when I first saw him, almost three days past.
“Billy! Where are you,” I try again. There is a skittering noise to the left of the big hall, filled with seats on the sloping incline. There is a distinct scent of garbage and mold in the room and overhead black fabric that once covered the ceiling in elegant folds bulges down eerily.
“Come on, Billy. We have to go!” Still nothing. I am about to give up on the big space when something, a whimper maybe draws my attention to the front where the movie screen used to be.
I aim my flashlight and shotgun at it simultaneously, and notice the pile of debris and fabric before catching the actual movement.
“Billy!” I see his skinny pale arm stick out at an odd angle and dash forward.
There on the dais he is lying. Pieces of carpet, plastic and God knows what else form some sort of nest in which he lays curled up like a fetus.
“Gawd. Billy. Are you okay. Come on, kid. Talk to me.” I place the shotgun carefully on the dais and push the materials aside to see if Billy is still alive. His lips are blue, big dark shadows cradle his eyes and his deadly white skin is sheened with perspiration. He is alive though, the weak pulse I find in his throat tells me as much.
When he turns out to be unresponsive to my prodding, I gnaw my lip in consideration for just a moment. Then, I grab the shotgun and swing it over my shoulder on the sling that is attached to it. Next, I look around in search of something I can wrap the boy in. In the end I settle on a piece of the bulging satiny fabric suspended from the ceiling. It is thin, but at least my dagger slices through it easily. Within just a few minutes I have Billy wrapped tightly within the fabric and wedge the flashlight under it so it will shine in front me when I lift him into my arms.
He is less heavy than I had anticipating and within no time whatsoever, I am heading back up to the entrance of the theater. I make short work of crossing to the stairs and heading down them. The siren outside is still screeching, and by the time I reach the main entrance, it is once again deafening. I take a final deep breath and head out into the dark street.
The flashlight on Billy’s stomach hobbles with every step I take, but stays in place. It casts a straight line in front of me, and until I reach the Wrangler, I don’t notice what is amiss until I reach it. The engine. It is not running anymore. Anxiety peaks in my gut, and I look around warily, taking the time to do a slow 360 with the light bobbing over the gaping black storefronts all around me.
I glance back at the car, see that the keys are missing. Who would do that at a time like this and not just take the car to flee? I wonder, moistening my lips and wondering what to do now. Running with Billy in my hands would do nothing. I can’t possibly get to safety in time before it hits. Not by foot.
Billy moans pitifully, and I look down at him knowing that there is only one thing to do, only one chance at survival.
Ground zero: We must get closer. Two hundred meters away from it, in fact. It is our only chance. Why, or how I know this, I’m not sure.
Taking a deep breath, I pull Billy closer and head away from the useless Jeep. Time is ticking. An actual tick tock inside my head that seems to speed up rapidly, and yet remains eerily insistent.
I know where I have to go. The exact location that will put me on the spot where Billy and I are most likely to survive. Whether I have the time to get there, remains to be seen.
Me feet fly over the pavement. I skip around debris and whatnot on my way to a marketplace at the end of the street. In my head I can see the map I had studied earlier. Less than three blocks, maybe two. The siren stops suddenly, and so does my heart, for just a fraction of a second. I am so startled I stumble and almost fall. But then I catch myself and push myself even harder.
In the distance, over the eerily hushed silence I hear a sound that is far more frightening than the siren on itself had been.
An engine. It’s roar so very powerful that it reverberated right to the very core of me.
One more block.
My side stitches, my feet pound on while my muscles scream and my lungs complain with noisy puffs.
Closer and closer the sound comes, and behind the city skyline I can see light replace the black starlit canopy overhead.
Half a block.
The light is bright now, the rumbling sound deafening as something big thunders over the roofs and casts dancing shadows around me. Debris rain down on me and Billy, but I continue on, faster still, if at all possible.
Twenty feet.
There. Right up ahead, a narrow alley looms at where I know we have our one and only chance. Just as the light dims and the earth beneath my feet tilts dangerously, I clasp Billy close to my chest and dive into the alley.
We tumble into it, my shoulder and side taking the worst of the fall when a mighty roar rips through the night. Air compresses, gets sucked away as our roll comes to an abrupt halt in the corner of the alley.
Then it happens. A massive boom followed by a blinding flash seconds that has me curl around Billy as best I can.
The heat hits me then. Searing, burning over my back like an unbearable weight. I am screaming, but no sound comes out, as the wave after wave of the massive explosion tumbles through the city and…I wake up.
Yeah, I know. I always wake up at the weirdest moments, don’t I? *sigh* Would you believe when I tell you that my back was incredibly hot after that dream. Well. No helping for it, I guess. Even in dreams my imagination takes certain liberties. Hah.
Definitely shrink material, I'm thinking...or I saw way too many disaster movies, eh?
Well, that’ll be it for today, won’t it. I’ve got the last bit of the edit to do, and considering my stomach is upset again (I hate it when that happens) and I lost my meal just a couple of hours ago, I better get to it fast. I, for one, wouldn’t mind an early night.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Woke up too soon. Grrr.
Song of the day: “Respect” by Aretha Franklin. Awesome song, yet a bit tedious when your head keeps repeating it over and over again. Hah.
Let’s start this one a little different, shall we. It was grocery shopping day after all, and rather than share that with my habitual aaargh, I would prefer not to talk about it at all.
Night time. The wind howled overhead and in the distance, there where trees stood silent in a niche of the mountain, shadows stirred madly. There was a chittering noise, it started up front of a large group of human shapes and gradually made its way through the group of forty, maybe fifty.
A putrid stench clawed its way up the slope, decay and mold combining into a smell that could permeate a solid concrete wall, or so it seemed.
The group moved, clothes and flesh alike causing a whisper of a sound as they advanced gradually, eyes glimmering in the full moon just over the horizon. Feet, some clad in shoes, others not, made their way across the damp grassy soil, approached with amazing stealth.
Limbs, some bent or crooked, others not there at all, moved jerkily, much like puppets on tangled strings.
Away from the bush at last, the one up front became visible at last. Sallow skin all over, festering boils turning a cheekbone black, the curve of a once sharp jaw flaccid. Zombie. It was all over the male in ripped jeans, one work boot and a tattered arm that hung limply at his side.
I lay at the top of the hill, my riffle perched on a knoll at the edge and my left eye pressed against the night scope that awarded me with the expected view. A shiver goes down my spine, tension humming through my body at the realization that time is running out. Half a mile to go at least and then we’d be overrun.
My companions and I, (the honeymooners that had run out of gas and had waited by the side of the road. Young Tony who’d been hiding under the crashed fire-department truck. Old Sally and her gardener Pedro. And the two trigger-happy brothers now perched in ancient oak trees on either side of me.) have retreated to this bunker-style house hidden in the side of a mountain-ridge just outside of town.
Them…the zombies…overran the city the night before, and while making my way home, I had no choice but to seek refuge here, where at least we’d be able to make a stand.
My breath comes out with a small puff of smoke in the pale light of the moon, and my fingers feel chilled almost tot the point of numb as I hold the riffle in a firm grip. The weapon is armed and ready, the acrid smell of oil and cordite a sharp reminder of earlier that day when I got to test the weapon’s accuracy on another small group of zombies.
I know I’m supposed to aim for the forehead in order to be the most effective, but in all honesty my aim is still off and having the patience to wait for them to come within reach is almost too hard to bare.
I hate watching them. Their erratic movements like a movie being fast-forwarded, and their rotting flesh a clear reminder that I really should not risk missing, lest they reach us at our hideout.
From the trees on of the two trigger-happy brothers utters a warning whistle, reminding me of the mark we agreed upon when we decided to defend our present position. Rather than run all through the night.
The front zombie, Mr. Tattered Arm, is only ten steps away from the big rock that juts out of the ground near the road that leads on up to the house we occupy.
“Patience,” I remind myself under my breath, lightly tightening my finger on the trigger, almost pulling it. Almost.
Nine.
More jerky movements, a keening wail distracting me towards the female off to Mr. Tattered Arm’s right. Half a dress hangs down her shoulder, red high heels still cling to her feet yet at an extremely slanted angle, and on the left side her once lustrous hair has been burned away. Her face is a Picasso in its horrifying glory.
Mr. Tattered Arm screeches a high sound, jerking my attention back to him.
Six steps…five.
My scope blurs the image for but a moment, my focus just as tardy. There it is, the gaping cheekbone, larvae crawling in and out.
Two…one.
Trigger happy number one starts firing, the woman with the red high heels falling back as if hit in the face by a baseball bat. In the mean time Trigger happy two opens fire as well, hitting Mr. Tattered Arm in the neck. Sluggish blood spurts, but he doesn’t go down, Trigger Two doesn’t care and aims for another while I hear Trigger One shout. “For God’s sake, Sam. Some help please.”
They’re doing pretty well on their own, but I know that I really should stop dawdling before it is too late. The group of zombies have started running after all, now that our firing has allowed them to zoom in on our location more accurately.
“Yeah, yeah!” I call back, and moisten my lips and take aim once more. “Just waiting for them to come a…little…closer.” One shot, and a short, rotund zombie is send sprawling with only half a face. Another spins around mid air, blood spraying out like black rain in the silvery moonlight.
Our ammo is sparse and the creatures running at a neck-breaking speed up the slope. The honeymooners finally join in from the top of the house where they took up position early that afternoon. Gunfire pounds through the ravine until my ears hurt.
Too many. There are too many of them. I know this as I continue to aim, shoot and then all over again. Closer. Faster. Frantic movements while one after the other drops. Not fast enough. Not good enough. Ten yards. Nine.
Screaming and gunfire mix into an orchestra of sound. Two more down, I reload, take aim and…Mr. Tattered Arm is right on top of me. He jumps, I roll and try to take aim. His one good arm is raised, fingers clawed and coming down. My riffle slams is up, the barrel jams under his bloody chin. I pull the trigger…
And wake up. Gawd, I always wake up when stuff gets interesting. Grrrr.
Yeah, I know. Who needs to watch movies with dreams like that, huh? I was positively psyched and revved when I woke up Thursday morning. I thought about maybe writing a book about it, but it’s about zombies, and, well yeah, you know. It’s been done in so many ways that you really can’t think of anything new anymore eh?
So let’s get back to real life for a bit…No. Not today which was just crappy grocery shopping day, remember…and the rocks I’ve been hauling again. Seriously, it was like the good old days. Yesterday I put up a natural rock wall, with clay this time, rather than cement, because it was just for beside the path that goes down to the carport. I hauled rocks like nobody’s business and it is looking good, I tell you. Heck, I even made this little stairs so grandpa can get to the tap in the bushes easier.
I made a small terrace underneath the mimosa behind my cabin, then continued on with the wall until it went up all the way to where we always park the car. I know, the car is supposed to be put in the car port, but for some reason we’re always working on one project or other in there.
But anyway, I put the last four bags of cement on a pallet on the new little terrace, removed dirt and leaves and then helped big brother (he worked on the partition box of the car all day) put the bamboo wooden box in the Land Rover. It looks gorgeous and yes, I have also taken pictures of that. Hah.
I was wonderfully exhausted last night, but as luck would have it, I was unable to sleep during the night. For some reason I couldn’t drop into deep sleep, resulting in me being a tad vague during the course of the day.
Well, that just about sums it all up. My poor doggies need some attention, and I need to get to work on the book. Guess I’ll be back the day after tomorrow.
Let’s start this one a little different, shall we. It was grocery shopping day after all, and rather than share that with my habitual aaargh, I would prefer not to talk about it at all.
Night time. The wind howled overhead and in the distance, there where trees stood silent in a niche of the mountain, shadows stirred madly. There was a chittering noise, it started up front of a large group of human shapes and gradually made its way through the group of forty, maybe fifty.
A putrid stench clawed its way up the slope, decay and mold combining into a smell that could permeate a solid concrete wall, or so it seemed.
The group moved, clothes and flesh alike causing a whisper of a sound as they advanced gradually, eyes glimmering in the full moon just over the horizon. Feet, some clad in shoes, others not, made their way across the damp grassy soil, approached with amazing stealth.
Limbs, some bent or crooked, others not there at all, moved jerkily, much like puppets on tangled strings.
Away from the bush at last, the one up front became visible at last. Sallow skin all over, festering boils turning a cheekbone black, the curve of a once sharp jaw flaccid. Zombie. It was all over the male in ripped jeans, one work boot and a tattered arm that hung limply at his side.
I lay at the top of the hill, my riffle perched on a knoll at the edge and my left eye pressed against the night scope that awarded me with the expected view. A shiver goes down my spine, tension humming through my body at the realization that time is running out. Half a mile to go at least and then we’d be overrun.
My companions and I, (the honeymooners that had run out of gas and had waited by the side of the road. Young Tony who’d been hiding under the crashed fire-department truck. Old Sally and her gardener Pedro. And the two trigger-happy brothers now perched in ancient oak trees on either side of me.) have retreated to this bunker-style house hidden in the side of a mountain-ridge just outside of town.
Them…the zombies…overran the city the night before, and while making my way home, I had no choice but to seek refuge here, where at least we’d be able to make a stand.
My breath comes out with a small puff of smoke in the pale light of the moon, and my fingers feel chilled almost tot the point of numb as I hold the riffle in a firm grip. The weapon is armed and ready, the acrid smell of oil and cordite a sharp reminder of earlier that day when I got to test the weapon’s accuracy on another small group of zombies.
I know I’m supposed to aim for the forehead in order to be the most effective, but in all honesty my aim is still off and having the patience to wait for them to come within reach is almost too hard to bare.
I hate watching them. Their erratic movements like a movie being fast-forwarded, and their rotting flesh a clear reminder that I really should not risk missing, lest they reach us at our hideout.
From the trees on of the two trigger-happy brothers utters a warning whistle, reminding me of the mark we agreed upon when we decided to defend our present position. Rather than run all through the night.
The front zombie, Mr. Tattered Arm, is only ten steps away from the big rock that juts out of the ground near the road that leads on up to the house we occupy.
“Patience,” I remind myself under my breath, lightly tightening my finger on the trigger, almost pulling it. Almost.
Nine.
More jerky movements, a keening wail distracting me towards the female off to Mr. Tattered Arm’s right. Half a dress hangs down her shoulder, red high heels still cling to her feet yet at an extremely slanted angle, and on the left side her once lustrous hair has been burned away. Her face is a Picasso in its horrifying glory.
Mr. Tattered Arm screeches a high sound, jerking my attention back to him.
Six steps…five.
My scope blurs the image for but a moment, my focus just as tardy. There it is, the gaping cheekbone, larvae crawling in and out.
Two…one.
Trigger happy number one starts firing, the woman with the red high heels falling back as if hit in the face by a baseball bat. In the mean time Trigger happy two opens fire as well, hitting Mr. Tattered Arm in the neck. Sluggish blood spurts, but he doesn’t go down, Trigger Two doesn’t care and aims for another while I hear Trigger One shout. “For God’s sake, Sam. Some help please.”
They’re doing pretty well on their own, but I know that I really should stop dawdling before it is too late. The group of zombies have started running after all, now that our firing has allowed them to zoom in on our location more accurately.
“Yeah, yeah!” I call back, and moisten my lips and take aim once more. “Just waiting for them to come a…little…closer.” One shot, and a short, rotund zombie is send sprawling with only half a face. Another spins around mid air, blood spraying out like black rain in the silvery moonlight.
Our ammo is sparse and the creatures running at a neck-breaking speed up the slope. The honeymooners finally join in from the top of the house where they took up position early that afternoon. Gunfire pounds through the ravine until my ears hurt.
Too many. There are too many of them. I know this as I continue to aim, shoot and then all over again. Closer. Faster. Frantic movements while one after the other drops. Not fast enough. Not good enough. Ten yards. Nine.
Screaming and gunfire mix into an orchestra of sound. Two more down, I reload, take aim and…Mr. Tattered Arm is right on top of me. He jumps, I roll and try to take aim. His one good arm is raised, fingers clawed and coming down. My riffle slams is up, the barrel jams under his bloody chin. I pull the trigger…
And wake up. Gawd, I always wake up when stuff gets interesting. Grrrr.
Yeah, I know. Who needs to watch movies with dreams like that, huh? I was positively psyched and revved when I woke up Thursday morning. I thought about maybe writing a book about it, but it’s about zombies, and, well yeah, you know. It’s been done in so many ways that you really can’t think of anything new anymore eh?
So let’s get back to real life for a bit…No. Not today which was just crappy grocery shopping day, remember…and the rocks I’ve been hauling again. Seriously, it was like the good old days. Yesterday I put up a natural rock wall, with clay this time, rather than cement, because it was just for beside the path that goes down to the carport. I hauled rocks like nobody’s business and it is looking good, I tell you. Heck, I even made this little stairs so grandpa can get to the tap in the bushes easier.
I made a small terrace underneath the mimosa behind my cabin, then continued on with the wall until it went up all the way to where we always park the car. I know, the car is supposed to be put in the car port, but for some reason we’re always working on one project or other in there.
But anyway, I put the last four bags of cement on a pallet on the new little terrace, removed dirt and leaves and then helped big brother (he worked on the partition box of the car all day) put the bamboo wooden box in the Land Rover. It looks gorgeous and yes, I have also taken pictures of that. Hah.
I was wonderfully exhausted last night, but as luck would have it, I was unable to sleep during the night. For some reason I couldn’t drop into deep sleep, resulting in me being a tad vague during the course of the day.
Well, that just about sums it all up. My poor doggies need some attention, and I need to get to work on the book. Guess I’ll be back the day after tomorrow.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Thud!...Zzzzzz
Song of the day: “Misfit” by Amy Studt. It’s been a while since I last heard it, but it was with the others little brother loaded a while back. Very angry girl music, of course, still cute, though.
So let’s get down to business, I only had a couple of hours of sleep last night, and a catnap this afternoon so every fiber inside me is literally screaming for shut-down…Oh no, wait. That’s the dogs. Give me a sec, I’ll kill them before I go on……………..so yeah. I’m tired; heck this afternoon I was so friggin’ tired that I couldn’t even get myself to read more than a page of “Saving Nina” so instead I headed out and started on carpentry. But I’ll get back to that late; let’s get up to date about yesterday.
The morning past as usual, really, big brother and I worked on the manuscript, did a big chapter and we were just about to start on the physical work of the day when little brother popped his head from between the balustrade of the stairs and asked if we could do their laminated floor. So, no, I hadn’t planned it in yet. I was thinking more along the lines of next week, or maybe at the beginning of the new month…but then, the younger sibs rarely come up with a project for themselves, so I figured what the heck. They’re grown up now, and if they want to have that floor put in, we’ll do it.
I am hoping that by showing them that such suggestions can lead to nice results, they’ll show more initiative in the future, and perhaps even start coming up with their own. It’s so much fun to do, and I really want them to experience that as well.
But anyways, we worked on the floor for the majority of the afternoon and except for the corners that still need to be put in, we had exactly enough to cover the entire floor. (Oh boy am I glad we guessed right…I know, we should have measured it, but seriously, where’s the adventure in that? Hah) Three colors in a pattern: Ebony double lines thrice; the same goes for the grayish oak, with three single lines of orange-ish just to make things fun. It looks grand and it will be a pleasure to clean.
Afterwards, I spent about an hour putting in a temporary desk that will be downright beautiful once I actually manage to finish it. The remainder of the day and evening…no I’m not going to share, ‘cause it’s just too much to mention and I still wanna tell you about this dream I had during my nap…was spent with busywork that kept me busy ‘till well past midnight. This meant that I didn’t manage to get to bed until after three, and as luck will have it I lay awake in bed until well past five in the morning.
This was a total pain in the butt since I had to get up at 8:15 to pick up our visiting friend in Marbella, which is a solid hour drive to and then another back. Suffice it to say that when I got home around noon today I HAD to get to bed and snooze for an hour.
Which was when the dream happened. It was so totally outta there that I just have to tell about it.
So yeah, in the dream I was working out in the yard, at the top of the property with the sibs, when suddenly there was a commotion with some of the dogs and when we checked it out it looked as if they had caught one of the Chinchillas.
I went over, to check if the little one was savable, but when I looked, it wasn’t our Chinchilla, but a baby bear…I know, that should have tipped me off, but everything else was so real that for a while I didn’t have a clue I was dreaming. Hah.
As it turned out, the poor little thing had a hurt leg (could have fooled me when, in the dream, I saw it lying there in little more than a heap, but what the hey), so I didn’t even need to take it to the vet, or anything.
So there I was, hauling this cuddly baby bear around, when suddenly, over the mountain the big momma bear came sniffing around in search of her young. Now, in reality this would be a tricky thing, but while I was climbing towards her to hand her the cub, she was just patiently sitting there, waiting for me.
I had almost reached the momma bear when, for some reason, I glanced back and (somehow) was able to look down on the drive sweep (that should have tipped me off that it was a dream, since that is completely impossible) and saw an entire zoo of animals come meandering down the road. Now, in the dream, I explained this incredible image of tigers, giraffe’s and Gawd knows what, with the brilliant thought of them having escaped from a circus that had been passing through town (it hasn’t, mind you) but whatever the reason it made complete sense to me. Hah.
Around this time I woke up, so I had to get out of bed and head down to the house again.
So that brings us to my earlier complaint of being too darn tired to do any serious work on the manuscript. Instead, big brother and I decided to start on the physical part of the day a couple of hours earlier.
While he and grandpa started on the fencing, again, the younger sibs and I started hauling down wood and whatnot to commence with the large closet that we need to build for their stuff in the room with the new floor. We have everything we need, so for the remainder of the afternoon we’re measuring, sawing, and at the end, when big brother and mom depart to bring our visitor home putting the first one together.
One done, three more to go.
In the last bit of daylight, middle sister and I put the doors in her closets. Only the doorknobs and drawers left to put on and in and then we can move them to her room. This one worked out splendidly, so the new ones should too.
And that concludes today. I’m sure that there is a lot of stuff that I missed, but it will have to do ‘cause I need to hit the sheets.
So let’s get down to business, I only had a couple of hours of sleep last night, and a catnap this afternoon so every fiber inside me is literally screaming for shut-down…Oh no, wait. That’s the dogs. Give me a sec, I’ll kill them before I go on……………..so yeah. I’m tired; heck this afternoon I was so friggin’ tired that I couldn’t even get myself to read more than a page of “Saving Nina” so instead I headed out and started on carpentry. But I’ll get back to that late; let’s get up to date about yesterday.
The morning past as usual, really, big brother and I worked on the manuscript, did a big chapter and we were just about to start on the physical work of the day when little brother popped his head from between the balustrade of the stairs and asked if we could do their laminated floor. So, no, I hadn’t planned it in yet. I was thinking more along the lines of next week, or maybe at the beginning of the new month…but then, the younger sibs rarely come up with a project for themselves, so I figured what the heck. They’re grown up now, and if they want to have that floor put in, we’ll do it.
I am hoping that by showing them that such suggestions can lead to nice results, they’ll show more initiative in the future, and perhaps even start coming up with their own. It’s so much fun to do, and I really want them to experience that as well.
But anyways, we worked on the floor for the majority of the afternoon and except for the corners that still need to be put in, we had exactly enough to cover the entire floor. (Oh boy am I glad we guessed right…I know, we should have measured it, but seriously, where’s the adventure in that? Hah) Three colors in a pattern: Ebony double lines thrice; the same goes for the grayish oak, with three single lines of orange-ish just to make things fun. It looks grand and it will be a pleasure to clean.
Afterwards, I spent about an hour putting in a temporary desk that will be downright beautiful once I actually manage to finish it. The remainder of the day and evening…no I’m not going to share, ‘cause it’s just too much to mention and I still wanna tell you about this dream I had during my nap…was spent with busywork that kept me busy ‘till well past midnight. This meant that I didn’t manage to get to bed until after three, and as luck will have it I lay awake in bed until well past five in the morning.
This was a total pain in the butt since I had to get up at 8:15 to pick up our visiting friend in Marbella, which is a solid hour drive to and then another back. Suffice it to say that when I got home around noon today I HAD to get to bed and snooze for an hour.
Which was when the dream happened. It was so totally outta there that I just have to tell about it.
So yeah, in the dream I was working out in the yard, at the top of the property with the sibs, when suddenly there was a commotion with some of the dogs and when we checked it out it looked as if they had caught one of the Chinchillas.
I went over, to check if the little one was savable, but when I looked, it wasn’t our Chinchilla, but a baby bear…I know, that should have tipped me off, but everything else was so real that for a while I didn’t have a clue I was dreaming. Hah.
As it turned out, the poor little thing had a hurt leg (could have fooled me when, in the dream, I saw it lying there in little more than a heap, but what the hey), so I didn’t even need to take it to the vet, or anything.
So there I was, hauling this cuddly baby bear around, when suddenly, over the mountain the big momma bear came sniffing around in search of her young. Now, in reality this would be a tricky thing, but while I was climbing towards her to hand her the cub, she was just patiently sitting there, waiting for me.
I had almost reached the momma bear when, for some reason, I glanced back and (somehow) was able to look down on the drive sweep (that should have tipped me off that it was a dream, since that is completely impossible) and saw an entire zoo of animals come meandering down the road. Now, in the dream, I explained this incredible image of tigers, giraffe’s and Gawd knows what, with the brilliant thought of them having escaped from a circus that had been passing through town (it hasn’t, mind you) but whatever the reason it made complete sense to me. Hah.
Around this time I woke up, so I had to get out of bed and head down to the house again.
So that brings us to my earlier complaint of being too darn tired to do any serious work on the manuscript. Instead, big brother and I decided to start on the physical part of the day a couple of hours earlier.
While he and grandpa started on the fencing, again, the younger sibs and I started hauling down wood and whatnot to commence with the large closet that we need to build for their stuff in the room with the new floor. We have everything we need, so for the remainder of the afternoon we’re measuring, sawing, and at the end, when big brother and mom depart to bring our visitor home putting the first one together.
One done, three more to go.
In the last bit of daylight, middle sister and I put the doors in her closets. Only the doorknobs and drawers left to put on and in and then we can move them to her room. This one worked out splendidly, so the new ones should too.
And that concludes today. I’m sure that there is a lot of stuff that I missed, but it will have to do ‘cause I need to hit the sheets.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Fiction, or not? Hah.
Song of the day: “When the going gets tough (the tough get going)” by…okay give me a sec. I need to look that up. Oh yeah, Billy Ocean…and Boyzone. Right. Well, let’s just say there’s no pun intended with the day’s events.
So, it started out like any regular day, really. The alarm went off, the dogs were being obnoxious, and my eyes were at their presently preferred position: half stock. Grrr.
The sun was shining brightly; birds and cicadas sang and a fresh eastern breeze came from the sea. It all seemed quite idyllic, really, no reason to feel uncomfortable, and yet there was something; something in the air and in my brain, rumbling in the background much like you would see a movement from the corner of your eye, and then when you really look, nothing’s there.
The morning rituals get done, of course; the dogs follow me noisily down to the house…and for some peculiar reason the uncomfortable feeling keeps increasing. It is slowly getting stronger, like a niggling sense of impending doom creeping up on me. My particular mood appears to be shared by both big brother and grandpa when I arrive in the main building, and put my bag away to start on the day’s laundry.
I’m just about done when the dogs start barking, throwing a fit up by the fences and drawing my attention away from the morning chores. Putting on my shades, I head out the courtyard to see what is up the mountain, grandpa, who heard the noise as well, appears in the carport, the hark in hand (he was cleaning some of the reed mess the younger sibs made yesterday).
Calling out to him that I’ll check it out, I climb up the incline, look over the rocky surface to where the dogs are attacking the fence and freeze. Right there, in the bright light of day, a strange distortion in the air hulks behind the boundary of the diamond fence that surrounds the property.
I blink, not sure whether my eyes are playing tricks on me as I watch it literally ooze in the air, sliding right and then left, shying back every time one of the dogs pounced the metal wiring, which appears to hold “it” at bay. Though almost completely transparent…it kind of reminded me of the camouflage used in “Predator”, for some reason…long tendrils of shifting air began to spread out. It moves sluggishly, almost octopus-like, spreading the ten or so dogs thin as they bravely defend the property.
Fear clutches at my chest when finally my brain begins the function and I push farther up the incline while I shout at the dogs to come to me. I don’t know how, but for some reason I sensed that whatever “it” was, it was dangerous, malicious and playing with the dogs, it’s intentions not at all benign.
Knight II is bouncing against the fence, doesn’t appear to hear me, while Amri and Mosha distractedly glance back at me, as if not entirely sure what it is I want. I’m rapidly nearing to where they’re attacking the fence, a peculiar, somewhat sour smell in the air. It is foul, but I pay it no heed while I grab tails, scruffy necks and paws alike in an attempt to get the dogs away from there…it.
Most of the ten are finally paying attention, are backing up towards the narrow path that leads to the house, when suddenly a high screech rips through the air. I look back and see Trin Trin, the Monster Boxer. She has her mighty jaws over a tendril of distorted air, her dark beady eyes fanatical and delighted as the hulking mass ripples massively, sweeps at her and tries to dislodge the hold she has on it.
Desperately I call for her to let go and come to me, while stilly keeping the other dogs at bay and threatening them with bodily harm if they don’t get their butts inside.
Trin Trin sways back and forth, she sails through the air, sturdy paws clawing the air and translucent “it” alike, until the tendril, on which she hangs, whips out and dislodges her at last.
She tumbles away, a tiny squeak indicating her hard collision with the rocky ground before she rolls to her feet, shakes her big head and looks torn between following me and trying another attack. When “it” screeches again, time for vile playing over apparently, Trin Trin feels daunted at last and scurries after me while I hurriedly chase the dogs down the mountain.
“What’s going on? What’s happening,” shouts grandpa, running down from the carport, and hustling the dogs along even though he isn’t sure what’s going on yet. We have the dogs inside the walls by then, but before I can say a single word, another eardrum shattering screech makes us spin to look up at the incline from which I came.
“It” is right there, at the top of the ridge, seeming twice the size it was before, as it comes lumbering down, much like some sort of…heck, I don’t know what!
Grandpa’s eyes widen, blink incredulously, before he stumbles through the gate right behind me. The rest of the pack, they too have heard the commotion, gather around us, howling and barking as through the trellis we see “it” come ever closer.
“What the---” I glance back to see big brother stand over by the olive tree, he’s scowling severely, squints at where we and the dogs are clustering by the gate. Slowly his gaze slips beyond us, settles on where the air distorts as if too few pixels are available. “Crap!”
“Uh-huh,” I counter, absently bringing the second lever down…never realizing that it is ridiculous, what with the courtyard being open overhead and the trellis, openings in the walls. If “it” wants to come in, the lever is not going to stop it. Especially since it had gone through the fence, rather than over it.
We stare as “it” decreases speed, throttles down to a near crawl and then stops just a few yards from the gate. It lies there, long tentacles…still barely visible in the bright light of day, almost fragmenting the sunlight, it seems…tentatively creeping closer, running lightly over the rocks of the wall and then shying back as if shocked.
By this time the younger sibs appear, the commotion just too much to ignore. Very few words are exchanged when suddenly the…well, for want of a better word, the creature begins to move sideways, appearing to search for something as it trails the walls like some sort of stalking predator. While grandpa opts to stay by the gate, we edge with it, keeping a weary eye out as we try to figure what it wants.
Suddenly, really out of the blue, “it” suddenly roars and leaps straight at the wall. Since it was the spot where I’d been peering over the edge, I stumble back, land flat on my back and blink up as I see the large tendrils hover overhead: It is trying to get over the wall, and I can actually see the stones shake in the cement.
Backpedaling, scared dogs scuttling out of the way, I can see the distorted air heave like a wave, gathering momentum in it’s attempt to cross the boundary. I won’t make it; I know it when my feet keep slipping on wet dirt and smashed plants; the sibs are shouting, the dogs barking and howling and just when it’s about to land on top of me…I wake up, with the dogs making a racket, of course. So darn frustrating when dreams don’t get completed.
But that’s what I was talking about when I made a wish for having something interesting to talk about on the blog, the other day. Doesn’t that read much better then just the daily toils? I have to admit that I thought just writing the dream down was vastly entertaining, so I’m not going to spoil it with chores, projects and whatnot but leave it at this instead. It was just wheeling something like 25 wheelbarrows of dirt up the mountain, hauling old materials up to the gate, etc. etc.
Gawd, it’s been ages since I had a decent enough dream to write about. Seriously, real life cannot compete with fiction like that. Hah.
So, it started out like any regular day, really. The alarm went off, the dogs were being obnoxious, and my eyes were at their presently preferred position: half stock. Grrr.
The sun was shining brightly; birds and cicadas sang and a fresh eastern breeze came from the sea. It all seemed quite idyllic, really, no reason to feel uncomfortable, and yet there was something; something in the air and in my brain, rumbling in the background much like you would see a movement from the corner of your eye, and then when you really look, nothing’s there.
The morning rituals get done, of course; the dogs follow me noisily down to the house…and for some peculiar reason the uncomfortable feeling keeps increasing. It is slowly getting stronger, like a niggling sense of impending doom creeping up on me. My particular mood appears to be shared by both big brother and grandpa when I arrive in the main building, and put my bag away to start on the day’s laundry.
I’m just about done when the dogs start barking, throwing a fit up by the fences and drawing my attention away from the morning chores. Putting on my shades, I head out the courtyard to see what is up the mountain, grandpa, who heard the noise as well, appears in the carport, the hark in hand (he was cleaning some of the reed mess the younger sibs made yesterday).
Calling out to him that I’ll check it out, I climb up the incline, look over the rocky surface to where the dogs are attacking the fence and freeze. Right there, in the bright light of day, a strange distortion in the air hulks behind the boundary of the diamond fence that surrounds the property.
I blink, not sure whether my eyes are playing tricks on me as I watch it literally ooze in the air, sliding right and then left, shying back every time one of the dogs pounced the metal wiring, which appears to hold “it” at bay. Though almost completely transparent…it kind of reminded me of the camouflage used in “Predator”, for some reason…long tendrils of shifting air began to spread out. It moves sluggishly, almost octopus-like, spreading the ten or so dogs thin as they bravely defend the property.
Fear clutches at my chest when finally my brain begins the function and I push farther up the incline while I shout at the dogs to come to me. I don’t know how, but for some reason I sensed that whatever “it” was, it was dangerous, malicious and playing with the dogs, it’s intentions not at all benign.
Knight II is bouncing against the fence, doesn’t appear to hear me, while Amri and Mosha distractedly glance back at me, as if not entirely sure what it is I want. I’m rapidly nearing to where they’re attacking the fence, a peculiar, somewhat sour smell in the air. It is foul, but I pay it no heed while I grab tails, scruffy necks and paws alike in an attempt to get the dogs away from there…it.
Most of the ten are finally paying attention, are backing up towards the narrow path that leads to the house, when suddenly a high screech rips through the air. I look back and see Trin Trin, the Monster Boxer. She has her mighty jaws over a tendril of distorted air, her dark beady eyes fanatical and delighted as the hulking mass ripples massively, sweeps at her and tries to dislodge the hold she has on it.
Desperately I call for her to let go and come to me, while stilly keeping the other dogs at bay and threatening them with bodily harm if they don’t get their butts inside.
Trin Trin sways back and forth, she sails through the air, sturdy paws clawing the air and translucent “it” alike, until the tendril, on which she hangs, whips out and dislodges her at last.
She tumbles away, a tiny squeak indicating her hard collision with the rocky ground before she rolls to her feet, shakes her big head and looks torn between following me and trying another attack. When “it” screeches again, time for vile playing over apparently, Trin Trin feels daunted at last and scurries after me while I hurriedly chase the dogs down the mountain.
“What’s going on? What’s happening,” shouts grandpa, running down from the carport, and hustling the dogs along even though he isn’t sure what’s going on yet. We have the dogs inside the walls by then, but before I can say a single word, another eardrum shattering screech makes us spin to look up at the incline from which I came.
“It” is right there, at the top of the ridge, seeming twice the size it was before, as it comes lumbering down, much like some sort of…heck, I don’t know what!
Grandpa’s eyes widen, blink incredulously, before he stumbles through the gate right behind me. The rest of the pack, they too have heard the commotion, gather around us, howling and barking as through the trellis we see “it” come ever closer.
“What the---” I glance back to see big brother stand over by the olive tree, he’s scowling severely, squints at where we and the dogs are clustering by the gate. Slowly his gaze slips beyond us, settles on where the air distorts as if too few pixels are available. “Crap!”
“Uh-huh,” I counter, absently bringing the second lever down…never realizing that it is ridiculous, what with the courtyard being open overhead and the trellis, openings in the walls. If “it” wants to come in, the lever is not going to stop it. Especially since it had gone through the fence, rather than over it.
We stare as “it” decreases speed, throttles down to a near crawl and then stops just a few yards from the gate. It lies there, long tentacles…still barely visible in the bright light of day, almost fragmenting the sunlight, it seems…tentatively creeping closer, running lightly over the rocks of the wall and then shying back as if shocked.
By this time the younger sibs appear, the commotion just too much to ignore. Very few words are exchanged when suddenly the…well, for want of a better word, the creature begins to move sideways, appearing to search for something as it trails the walls like some sort of stalking predator. While grandpa opts to stay by the gate, we edge with it, keeping a weary eye out as we try to figure what it wants.
Suddenly, really out of the blue, “it” suddenly roars and leaps straight at the wall. Since it was the spot where I’d been peering over the edge, I stumble back, land flat on my back and blink up as I see the large tendrils hover overhead: It is trying to get over the wall, and I can actually see the stones shake in the cement.
Backpedaling, scared dogs scuttling out of the way, I can see the distorted air heave like a wave, gathering momentum in it’s attempt to cross the boundary. I won’t make it; I know it when my feet keep slipping on wet dirt and smashed plants; the sibs are shouting, the dogs barking and howling and just when it’s about to land on top of me…I wake up, with the dogs making a racket, of course. So darn frustrating when dreams don’t get completed.
But that’s what I was talking about when I made a wish for having something interesting to talk about on the blog, the other day. Doesn’t that read much better then just the daily toils? I have to admit that I thought just writing the dream down was vastly entertaining, so I’m not going to spoil it with chores, projects and whatnot but leave it at this instead. It was just wheeling something like 25 wheelbarrows of dirt up the mountain, hauling old materials up to the gate, etc. etc.
Gawd, it’s been ages since I had a decent enough dream to write about. Seriously, real life cannot compete with fiction like that. Hah.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Got One! Yay.
Yay, yay. I got one. I got one! Here goes:
The sun was shining brightly; the heat was almost unbearable and in the distance on a steep slope I could see Knight dash upward and over the top. Swearing, I went in his pursuit, shouting at him to come back and putting up some speed when I hear him bark on the other side.
Even though I was breathing heavily, the incline rather steep, I do notice that the runs these past few weeks were paying off, because I actually made it up the hill without that annoyingly coppery taste in my throat.
Olive trees and cork oaks twist and turned on either side of me when the valley, which Knight is barrelling into; his butt towards me, and his ears flopping, as he blithely continued on his way.
In the distance I could see what had drawn his attention-a flock of sheep grazing in a pasture. Aaargh. The idiot wouldn’t listen so I went up against every instinct screaming inside me, made an about-face, and started walking in the opposite direction…calling him all the while.
There was a rumble of a heavy engine in the distance, and while I looked around, I could see Knight coming to a skidding halt, for a moment not knowing what to do, before turned and came storming towards me.
Massive paws clawed the dusty ground, his tongue lolling and his eyes jolly while he considered coming in my pursuit an entirely new, fun game.
Legs flayed every which way, his balance precarious as he bounced from rock to slope and bounded upward, heading straight for me.
Considering the engine was coming closer too, and the sandy road on which we both were wouldn’t allow for evasion, I called him to me, shouting enthusiastically, patting my leg while I continued to walk on.
The sound of the engine was almost deafening, a plume of dust looming up on the hill on which we were walking, and Knight just a couple of yards behind me. I just about manage to grab his collar and yank him to me when a huge truck came barreling into view, missing us both by just a fraction and then continuing on its way as if the driver hadn’t even seen us. I sucked in a deep breath, chocking a little on the dust that swirled around us both and blocked out the countryside.
I was wondering what a Mack truck did on a deserted road like that when suddenly my alarm shrills and notifies me that there is no reason for my heart to be pounding in my throat and that almost being run over was just a friggin’ dream. Ah well. It is an excellent jump-start to get up and begin with the day, I guess.
Song of the day: “Downtown” by Petula Clark. I don’t know where it came from, but the friggin’ song drove me bonkers most of the day. I’m not sure how long ago I last heard it, but I do know that it had no business being in my head, darn it.
We worked on the synopsis again…we’re taking all the advise on “edit, edit and edit” to heart, going over the stupid thing, over and over until I can literally dream the text. Added to the dream I just wrote down, I’ve been having lots of dreams about punctuation of all things. It’s daft, I tell you. It’s not like I don’t get enough of that crap throughout the day: No, I need to dream about it too.
Be that as it may, we use the new coffee machine today, and I gotta admit, it is grand being able to go for a refill without actually having to put on another brew, just to get my caffeine fix. The fact that my eyes are half-stock again, doesn’t help the issue. I’m forming a severe addiction to the stuff, if for no other reason than to wake the heck up…if anyone had told me so last year, I would have laughed in his or her face.
The write-edit of the synopsis goes slowly but we work our way through another section of chapters in the five hours that follow wake-up-time. A page and a half to go…along with some rereads and we should be set.
Since, for some peculiar reason, today is actually a cloudy one, we head out into the yard to work with the rocks again. Though by this time the sun is peeking out from behind the clouds, the temperatures are bearable. On little sister’s insistence, we start on the stone stairs that are going to lead up to my cabin.
I doubt that I’ll manage to master the task that requires more patience than I possess, I’m game and we start…it ends in frustration, really. I’ve found that building steps is definitely not my forte. I’m actually disheartened, thinking I’ve lost my touch when I finally give up and leave the task to big brother, who, with little effort, corrects the disaster I’ve created. Hah.
With that task well in hand, little sister and I move to the other stairs that big brother already finished and decide to finish the last two wheelbarrows on a small wall alongside the steps. Thankfully, I haven’t lost my touch after all, since ten minutes later a nice little wall is in place. Conclusion: I do walls; big brother can do the stairs. Hah.
That done, and today’s mess dealt with, we head into the house to lock the dogs into the courtyard and have a quick snack before we leave to get a new load of rocks.
Since big brother is driving the first section, I decide to take the opportunity to have a quick run up our drive sweep. The muscles do the task really well; no more screaming on their part, so my only problem when I reach the top is that I’m out of breath.
Once in the car, we head down our usual road. It takes a bit of searching but in the end, we locate a spot where a wealth of choices awaits to be tossed into the back of the truck.
Less than forty minutes later we return home and unload the rocks op on the rapidly growing pile near the main gate. Since we’re almost done around the wall, and we still have massive piles there, we can’t dump them around the carport any more.
Pretty much running on empty, I hang laundry and then have a quick dinner of French fries while big brother settle down in the courtyard with my laptop to attempt some more work on the synopsis. We’re both tired, however, so we decide to retire a little earlier than usual, and end up discussing the progress of the past few weeks before I can finally start with the Blog and get online for some relaxation.
I do hope that tomorrow brings a nice fresh breeze, because the temperatures are a tad uncomfortable this early in the year. Usually we’d have another week or two of pleasant weather, so I sincerely wish that the pattern of the past few years would persist in that matter. Working with the rocks is going to be so much harder in the heat.
The sun was shining brightly; the heat was almost unbearable and in the distance on a steep slope I could see Knight dash upward and over the top. Swearing, I went in his pursuit, shouting at him to come back and putting up some speed when I hear him bark on the other side.
Even though I was breathing heavily, the incline rather steep, I do notice that the runs these past few weeks were paying off, because I actually made it up the hill without that annoyingly coppery taste in my throat.
Olive trees and cork oaks twist and turned on either side of me when the valley, which Knight is barrelling into; his butt towards me, and his ears flopping, as he blithely continued on his way.
In the distance I could see what had drawn his attention-a flock of sheep grazing in a pasture. Aaargh. The idiot wouldn’t listen so I went up against every instinct screaming inside me, made an about-face, and started walking in the opposite direction…calling him all the while.
There was a rumble of a heavy engine in the distance, and while I looked around, I could see Knight coming to a skidding halt, for a moment not knowing what to do, before turned and came storming towards me.
Massive paws clawed the dusty ground, his tongue lolling and his eyes jolly while he considered coming in my pursuit an entirely new, fun game.
Legs flayed every which way, his balance precarious as he bounced from rock to slope and bounded upward, heading straight for me.
Considering the engine was coming closer too, and the sandy road on which we both were wouldn’t allow for evasion, I called him to me, shouting enthusiastically, patting my leg while I continued to walk on.
The sound of the engine was almost deafening, a plume of dust looming up on the hill on which we were walking, and Knight just a couple of yards behind me. I just about manage to grab his collar and yank him to me when a huge truck came barreling into view, missing us both by just a fraction and then continuing on its way as if the driver hadn’t even seen us. I sucked in a deep breath, chocking a little on the dust that swirled around us both and blocked out the countryside.
I was wondering what a Mack truck did on a deserted road like that when suddenly my alarm shrills and notifies me that there is no reason for my heart to be pounding in my throat and that almost being run over was just a friggin’ dream. Ah well. It is an excellent jump-start to get up and begin with the day, I guess.
Song of the day: “Downtown” by Petula Clark. I don’t know where it came from, but the friggin’ song drove me bonkers most of the day. I’m not sure how long ago I last heard it, but I do know that it had no business being in my head, darn it.
We worked on the synopsis again…we’re taking all the advise on “edit, edit and edit” to heart, going over the stupid thing, over and over until I can literally dream the text. Added to the dream I just wrote down, I’ve been having lots of dreams about punctuation of all things. It’s daft, I tell you. It’s not like I don’t get enough of that crap throughout the day: No, I need to dream about it too.
Be that as it may, we use the new coffee machine today, and I gotta admit, it is grand being able to go for a refill without actually having to put on another brew, just to get my caffeine fix. The fact that my eyes are half-stock again, doesn’t help the issue. I’m forming a severe addiction to the stuff, if for no other reason than to wake the heck up…if anyone had told me so last year, I would have laughed in his or her face.
The write-edit of the synopsis goes slowly but we work our way through another section of chapters in the five hours that follow wake-up-time. A page and a half to go…along with some rereads and we should be set.
Since, for some peculiar reason, today is actually a cloudy one, we head out into the yard to work with the rocks again. Though by this time the sun is peeking out from behind the clouds, the temperatures are bearable. On little sister’s insistence, we start on the stone stairs that are going to lead up to my cabin.
I doubt that I’ll manage to master the task that requires more patience than I possess, I’m game and we start…it ends in frustration, really. I’ve found that building steps is definitely not my forte. I’m actually disheartened, thinking I’ve lost my touch when I finally give up and leave the task to big brother, who, with little effort, corrects the disaster I’ve created. Hah.
With that task well in hand, little sister and I move to the other stairs that big brother already finished and decide to finish the last two wheelbarrows on a small wall alongside the steps. Thankfully, I haven’t lost my touch after all, since ten minutes later a nice little wall is in place. Conclusion: I do walls; big brother can do the stairs. Hah.
That done, and today’s mess dealt with, we head into the house to lock the dogs into the courtyard and have a quick snack before we leave to get a new load of rocks.
Since big brother is driving the first section, I decide to take the opportunity to have a quick run up our drive sweep. The muscles do the task really well; no more screaming on their part, so my only problem when I reach the top is that I’m out of breath.
Once in the car, we head down our usual road. It takes a bit of searching but in the end, we locate a spot where a wealth of choices awaits to be tossed into the back of the truck.
Less than forty minutes later we return home and unload the rocks op on the rapidly growing pile near the main gate. Since we’re almost done around the wall, and we still have massive piles there, we can’t dump them around the carport any more.
Pretty much running on empty, I hang laundry and then have a quick dinner of French fries while big brother settle down in the courtyard with my laptop to attempt some more work on the synopsis. We’re both tired, however, so we decide to retire a little earlier than usual, and end up discussing the progress of the past few weeks before I can finally start with the Blog and get online for some relaxation.
I do hope that tomorrow brings a nice fresh breeze, because the temperatures are a tad uncomfortable this early in the year. Usually we’d have another week or two of pleasant weather, so I sincerely wish that the pattern of the past few years would persist in that matter. Working with the rocks is going to be so much harder in the heat.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Zombie dreams, soooo trite.
So, if the saying of: “Don’t lose sight of reality,” is true, doesn’t that mean that reality is not to be trusted? It does seem that way to me, which is why I prefer fiction every day.
Just figured I’d insert a random thought here, hah. Wouldn’t want to be predictable, or anything.
Right, on to more interesting things. Oh yes, my dream. Gotta tell about my dream.
I was at my old house…well, dreaming of it anyway…okay, gotta cut off here for a moment and wonder “out loud”. Does anyone notice how a place that you’ve called home will frequently still be home in dreams, years after actually moving away? I think it took me at least nine years before (in dreams) our present home became more prominent in a variety of dreams. Hmmm, strange how that works.
But, like I was saying: I was in my old house, the woods green in the beginning of summer when something–I don’t recall exactly what–happened that made the sky turn inky black in less than a second. It startled me and for some peculiar reason I got in the Truck (we didn’t get the truck until after 2000, so what it was doing in the dream, I’ve no idea, aaargh. Consistency, Sam. Gotta be consistent) and tore away from the gate to head towards a mountainous area, which would fit our present home more than the old, by the way.
I was tearing over narrow roads, taking hairpin corners at top speed and even skipping several in my haste to get up to a rather sprawling mansion, somewhere near a top.
It was still dark as night, raging winds whirling around me like mad when I get out of the car and turn to get the younger sibs out.
For some reason they were small kids again, which made no sense whatsoever since they’re all fully-grown these days. But anyways, I propped the little sister version on my hip, grabbed middle sister’s wrist and snapped at little brother to keep up while we started running towards the front door.
It was opened the moment we mounted the single step of the large porch, and were ushered inside by a complete stranger that I seemed to know (in the dream) as I handed little sister to mom…she was there too, don’t ask me why, hah…and run to the back of the house where big brother and another version of little brother–this one’s an adult again–were helping a huge amount of, what appear to be, refugees of some sort.
There was a hubbub going on all around, men and woman carrying heavy guns, pitchforks and whatnot, children being cornered by older kids so they weren’t in the way, and flashlights being used rather than actual lights.
I appeared to know what’s going on; ‘cause I nodded at the instructions the man beside me was giving (how, I don’t know, because thinking back of it, he spoke in some unfamiliar language).
There was this tremendous patio where everyone was scattered around, climbing up the huge walls and taking up battle stations…I know what you’re thinking, “What the heck is going on?” the thought kept playing through my mind, too…while I grabbed some sort of sawed-off buckshot that was tossed in my direction by another “familiar” stranger and took up position near a lower section of the wall and peer out into the darkness.
I was positioned at a vantage point of sorts, my eyes rapidly adjusting to the darkness below when the flashlights were behind me at last.
I saw a jagged road, crisscrossing up the mountain on which the villa was location, and with a glance backwards I could see more mountain tower overhead.
The road was deserted, and hours appeared to pass before suddenly a warning whistle from big brother (he was perched nearby) alerted me of the movement going on where the road first appeared behind a rocky outcropping.
Thunder suddenly crashed overhead…strangely enough without lightning…making the ground shake ominously as the people around me jumped right along with me.
By the time the rumble died down the movement appeared to be a lot closer, showing outlines of human shapes, rapidly making their way up.
I squinted at them, making out that they swayed oddly even with the peculiar speed.
“Hold!” someone called urgently then, right on time too since I felt this sense of impending doom at the approaching figure, and really wanted to let loose with the buckshot. “Wait for it. Wait!”
The figures, hundreds of them, amazingly, crossed at least two thirds of the distance in that short time, allowing my to grimace at the sight of disfigured faces, gaping holes and even missing limbs.
Friggin’ zombies are attacking? How trite! I remember thinking, even as I loaded the shotgun to readiness and managed not to flinch with the second thunderous boom that made the ground tremble again.
The zombies reached a messy hedge by that time, which appeared to be the universal sign for everyone to start shooting at the howling creatures as they increased their speed.
There were lots of full hits from a variety of weapons, mine included, and yet the zombies (Gawd, I still can’t believe I dreamt about zombies. How lame is that?) barely paused their stride as they headed straight for us. Pitchforks, bats–and anything else that was likely to serve as a weapon–appeared all around me, and more people gathered by the walls as the earth shook. By that time the first zombies hit the wall and started to climb up as if they had a ladder against it.
My ammo went out, just when some butt-ugly face appeared over the edge of the wall, and I slam the bud right there, where the nose was supposed to be. There was a satisfying crack while the creature was sent sprawling. (Very Resident Evil-like, hah) Another jumps right up on the wall, and I’m about to give him the same treatment when suddenly…the alarm screeches and declares the dream officially over.
Jeez. Just when things start to get remotely interesting, too.
I groan when I open my eyes and peer straight into Chaos’ nose, lying less than two inches from my own. Aaargh. He, of course wags his tail affectionately with the realization that I’m awake.
I gotta work on the timing of my dreams, the bloody alarm always messes with the ending and that is getting to be a little more than annoying.
But anyways, while I’m stretching and yawning, working the kinks from my shoulders and back, Knight II decides that I’m not fast enough and bounces right onto the center of the bed, just barely missing my gut…this of course because I saw him coming and managed to role aside in the nick of time, but still. Hah.
While going over the dream and wondering if I might be able to use the theme in one of the books, I roll out of bed to let the pack outside to start on the morning rituals.
Luckily I’m not so sore today, and actually manage to move around with a little more dignity than usual. Sure, my hair stands up every which way, my eyes are puffy with too little sleep and my pjs are twisted around me, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that I’m not moving like an old crone this morning.
Once done with the morning rituals, and helping Bommel out of the cabin–he seems to be feeling a bit better today–I take the pack down to the house an hour earlier than usual. They’re bit confused with the time change, but act their average chaotic selves when I throw the gate open and let them stream into the courtyard.
Lhabana and Sitabah are still having a disagreement so I snarl at them to stop…well, snarling, and then follow them into the house.
Big brother is already up, and has coffee percolating, thank God.
My eyes refuse to open more than halfway, and stay that way for a full hour while I try to boost my system with two full mugs of coffee.
By the time the caffeine finally kicks in, we’re already well into the edit, managing to go over at least ten pages (this is a section that was already done, but needed a reread due to the massive changes) before the hour of our departure arrives.
We’re running a little behind for our lessons–however frustrating at times, edits are all-consuming–and need to hurry to town in order to make it in time.
Since I function better as the first doing the practical, I take my place for the hour and a half lesson that lies ahead, while big brother sits behind me. Because he functions better later on, it works out really well. Me, on the other hand, an hour into the lessons and my brain starts to turn to mush.
Ah well, during the first section of the lesson I actually manage to strike up a bit of conversation with the instructor–I figure that if he’s busy talking about normal stuff, at least he’ll stop giving instructions…it works hah–and actually manage the first forty-five minutes of the lesson without too much errors. It’s the next sections when my reactions start to dwindle. Nothing disastrous, mind you, just those lousy little errors that make the instructor frown.
Let’s just say it didn’t go as well as it could have and keep it at that, rather than spending another two pages rattling on about all the things that I did wrong.
I do have to share one particular thing the instructor said…compliments from instructors are so rare, you understand…he said that we were both really good, it was just that in order to make the exams we don’t need to be good, but we need to be CORRECT. Goes to show what the bureaucrats consider important, I guess. It’s just nutty.
But anyways, when it’s big brother’s turn, we exchange places and I settle back to do something constructive with the hour and a half that’s still ahead. While listening partly to the conversation going on before me, I actually manage to jot down a draft for a query letter that I still needed to write. I need to send out lots of letters in the near future for “Saving Nina”, and am most pleased that I’ve got a good start during this otherwise wasted time.
Since, by time I finish, we still have a good half hour to go, I continue writing on the notepad and get down a scene that needs to be inserted into the manuscript before it’s fully done. Pretty darn pleased with myself, I finish just about the time our lessons are over and our ride home arrives.
Two more lessons to go and then the exams, and I didn’t worry about it for even five minutes. That’s gotta be a record. Hah.
When we arrive home, little sister has dinner waiting, and basically we wolf it down before setting up the computers and getting to work.
No edits tonight. Big brother is researching the paperwprl we need to go to Createspace, and if we’re lucky, maybe even Kindle, while I work at Lulu.com to get a W.I. Volume ready to send out to a reviewer.
I’m sending it straight from the publisher, which is new for me, so I hope that it all goes well. It’s a pity that he prefers hardcopy over PDF files, but I have to know if this works anyway. Might as well be now.
I do wish the publisher figured out a satisfactory solution for getting my copies to me, because having none in stock is turning out to be a serious pain in the butt.
Now, added to a review of the story I’m even doing an interview, can you imagine?
It’s kind of exciting, an interview. Only did one in the past, which was mostly about me personally, but now I get to answer questions about the W.I.s, instead. The how, when and why I created them, what I’m trying to do with them etc. etc. It’s something new, and that is always a wonderful challenge.
Since I’m over at my storefront anyway, I decide to change the main page too. The old one was still good, but I thought a change wouldn’t hurt. It actually looks kind of cheerful right now, which could be a good thing, I guess.
When I finish everything up, midnight has arrived and after some mindless banter with the sibs, I head on up to my cabin for the last part of the evening.
Sure, the lesson thing hacks into a day, but I got stuff done today, and that makes this a good one.
Just figured I’d insert a random thought here, hah. Wouldn’t want to be predictable, or anything.
Right, on to more interesting things. Oh yes, my dream. Gotta tell about my dream.
I was at my old house…well, dreaming of it anyway…okay, gotta cut off here for a moment and wonder “out loud”. Does anyone notice how a place that you’ve called home will frequently still be home in dreams, years after actually moving away? I think it took me at least nine years before (in dreams) our present home became more prominent in a variety of dreams. Hmmm, strange how that works.
But, like I was saying: I was in my old house, the woods green in the beginning of summer when something–I don’t recall exactly what–happened that made the sky turn inky black in less than a second. It startled me and for some peculiar reason I got in the Truck (we didn’t get the truck until after 2000, so what it was doing in the dream, I’ve no idea, aaargh. Consistency, Sam. Gotta be consistent) and tore away from the gate to head towards a mountainous area, which would fit our present home more than the old, by the way.
I was tearing over narrow roads, taking hairpin corners at top speed and even skipping several in my haste to get up to a rather sprawling mansion, somewhere near a top.
It was still dark as night, raging winds whirling around me like mad when I get out of the car and turn to get the younger sibs out.
For some reason they were small kids again, which made no sense whatsoever since they’re all fully-grown these days. But anyways, I propped the little sister version on my hip, grabbed middle sister’s wrist and snapped at little brother to keep up while we started running towards the front door.
It was opened the moment we mounted the single step of the large porch, and were ushered inside by a complete stranger that I seemed to know (in the dream) as I handed little sister to mom…she was there too, don’t ask me why, hah…and run to the back of the house where big brother and another version of little brother–this one’s an adult again–were helping a huge amount of, what appear to be, refugees of some sort.
There was a hubbub going on all around, men and woman carrying heavy guns, pitchforks and whatnot, children being cornered by older kids so they weren’t in the way, and flashlights being used rather than actual lights.
I appeared to know what’s going on; ‘cause I nodded at the instructions the man beside me was giving (how, I don’t know, because thinking back of it, he spoke in some unfamiliar language).
There was this tremendous patio where everyone was scattered around, climbing up the huge walls and taking up battle stations…I know what you’re thinking, “What the heck is going on?” the thought kept playing through my mind, too…while I grabbed some sort of sawed-off buckshot that was tossed in my direction by another “familiar” stranger and took up position near a lower section of the wall and peer out into the darkness.
I was positioned at a vantage point of sorts, my eyes rapidly adjusting to the darkness below when the flashlights were behind me at last.
I saw a jagged road, crisscrossing up the mountain on which the villa was location, and with a glance backwards I could see more mountain tower overhead.
The road was deserted, and hours appeared to pass before suddenly a warning whistle from big brother (he was perched nearby) alerted me of the movement going on where the road first appeared behind a rocky outcropping.
Thunder suddenly crashed overhead…strangely enough without lightning…making the ground shake ominously as the people around me jumped right along with me.
By the time the rumble died down the movement appeared to be a lot closer, showing outlines of human shapes, rapidly making their way up.
I squinted at them, making out that they swayed oddly even with the peculiar speed.
“Hold!” someone called urgently then, right on time too since I felt this sense of impending doom at the approaching figure, and really wanted to let loose with the buckshot. “Wait for it. Wait!”
The figures, hundreds of them, amazingly, crossed at least two thirds of the distance in that short time, allowing my to grimace at the sight of disfigured faces, gaping holes and even missing limbs.
Friggin’ zombies are attacking? How trite! I remember thinking, even as I loaded the shotgun to readiness and managed not to flinch with the second thunderous boom that made the ground tremble again.
The zombies reached a messy hedge by that time, which appeared to be the universal sign for everyone to start shooting at the howling creatures as they increased their speed.
There were lots of full hits from a variety of weapons, mine included, and yet the zombies (Gawd, I still can’t believe I dreamt about zombies. How lame is that?) barely paused their stride as they headed straight for us. Pitchforks, bats–and anything else that was likely to serve as a weapon–appeared all around me, and more people gathered by the walls as the earth shook. By that time the first zombies hit the wall and started to climb up as if they had a ladder against it.
My ammo went out, just when some butt-ugly face appeared over the edge of the wall, and I slam the bud right there, where the nose was supposed to be. There was a satisfying crack while the creature was sent sprawling. (Very Resident Evil-like, hah) Another jumps right up on the wall, and I’m about to give him the same treatment when suddenly…the alarm screeches and declares the dream officially over.
Jeez. Just when things start to get remotely interesting, too.
I groan when I open my eyes and peer straight into Chaos’ nose, lying less than two inches from my own. Aaargh. He, of course wags his tail affectionately with the realization that I’m awake.
I gotta work on the timing of my dreams, the bloody alarm always messes with the ending and that is getting to be a little more than annoying.
But anyways, while I’m stretching and yawning, working the kinks from my shoulders and back, Knight II decides that I’m not fast enough and bounces right onto the center of the bed, just barely missing my gut…this of course because I saw him coming and managed to role aside in the nick of time, but still. Hah.
While going over the dream and wondering if I might be able to use the theme in one of the books, I roll out of bed to let the pack outside to start on the morning rituals.
Luckily I’m not so sore today, and actually manage to move around with a little more dignity than usual. Sure, my hair stands up every which way, my eyes are puffy with too little sleep and my pjs are twisted around me, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that I’m not moving like an old crone this morning.
Once done with the morning rituals, and helping Bommel out of the cabin–he seems to be feeling a bit better today–I take the pack down to the house an hour earlier than usual. They’re bit confused with the time change, but act their average chaotic selves when I throw the gate open and let them stream into the courtyard.
Lhabana and Sitabah are still having a disagreement so I snarl at them to stop…well, snarling, and then follow them into the house.
Big brother is already up, and has coffee percolating, thank God.
My eyes refuse to open more than halfway, and stay that way for a full hour while I try to boost my system with two full mugs of coffee.
By the time the caffeine finally kicks in, we’re already well into the edit, managing to go over at least ten pages (this is a section that was already done, but needed a reread due to the massive changes) before the hour of our departure arrives.
We’re running a little behind for our lessons–however frustrating at times, edits are all-consuming–and need to hurry to town in order to make it in time.
Since I function better as the first doing the practical, I take my place for the hour and a half lesson that lies ahead, while big brother sits behind me. Because he functions better later on, it works out really well. Me, on the other hand, an hour into the lessons and my brain starts to turn to mush.
Ah well, during the first section of the lesson I actually manage to strike up a bit of conversation with the instructor–I figure that if he’s busy talking about normal stuff, at least he’ll stop giving instructions…it works hah–and actually manage the first forty-five minutes of the lesson without too much errors. It’s the next sections when my reactions start to dwindle. Nothing disastrous, mind you, just those lousy little errors that make the instructor frown.
Let’s just say it didn’t go as well as it could have and keep it at that, rather than spending another two pages rattling on about all the things that I did wrong.
I do have to share one particular thing the instructor said…compliments from instructors are so rare, you understand…he said that we were both really good, it was just that in order to make the exams we don’t need to be good, but we need to be CORRECT. Goes to show what the bureaucrats consider important, I guess. It’s just nutty.
But anyways, when it’s big brother’s turn, we exchange places and I settle back to do something constructive with the hour and a half that’s still ahead. While listening partly to the conversation going on before me, I actually manage to jot down a draft for a query letter that I still needed to write. I need to send out lots of letters in the near future for “Saving Nina”, and am most pleased that I’ve got a good start during this otherwise wasted time.
Since, by time I finish, we still have a good half hour to go, I continue writing on the notepad and get down a scene that needs to be inserted into the manuscript before it’s fully done. Pretty darn pleased with myself, I finish just about the time our lessons are over and our ride home arrives.
Two more lessons to go and then the exams, and I didn’t worry about it for even five minutes. That’s gotta be a record. Hah.
When we arrive home, little sister has dinner waiting, and basically we wolf it down before setting up the computers and getting to work.
No edits tonight. Big brother is researching the paperwprl we need to go to Createspace, and if we’re lucky, maybe even Kindle, while I work at Lulu.com to get a W.I. Volume ready to send out to a reviewer.
I’m sending it straight from the publisher, which is new for me, so I hope that it all goes well. It’s a pity that he prefers hardcopy over PDF files, but I have to know if this works anyway. Might as well be now.
I do wish the publisher figured out a satisfactory solution for getting my copies to me, because having none in stock is turning out to be a serious pain in the butt.
Now, added to a review of the story I’m even doing an interview, can you imagine?
It’s kind of exciting, an interview. Only did one in the past, which was mostly about me personally, but now I get to answer questions about the W.I.s, instead. The how, when and why I created them, what I’m trying to do with them etc. etc. It’s something new, and that is always a wonderful challenge.
Since I’m over at my storefront anyway, I decide to change the main page too. The old one was still good, but I thought a change wouldn’t hurt. It actually looks kind of cheerful right now, which could be a good thing, I guess.
When I finish everything up, midnight has arrived and after some mindless banter with the sibs, I head on up to my cabin for the last part of the evening.
Sure, the lesson thing hacks into a day, but I got stuff done today, and that makes this a good one.
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