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Abused, Abandoned Jungle Dogs.
Story Narrated By A Third Party.
--- The Old Man & His Dogs ---
The old mans eyes slowly opened as a noise had
alerted him to something close by. Rolling over the
dull pain in his shoulder reminded him of the life he
has lived and the consequences that comes with it !
A set of shiny eyes were staring directly into his own .
A pointy black face with elf ears is sending a message.
He could hear another dogs yawning telling him that
she 2 needs his undivided attention. The howling wind
could be heard outside along with the heavy rains pelting
the roof and windows. The old man sat up causing the pain
to worsen as if another bayonet had been thrust into his old
body. The nightmares had subsided over time, but the pain
has only worsened with age. Sliding his legs over the side of
the bed another dog raises his 10yr old head, which, like the
old mans chin, his too is covered with gray hair. The old man
smiles as he reflects on the 10yrs in dog life is the same as his.
The blue striped tarp that protects the motorcycles was blowing
about like a spinnaker in a hurricane. Even with extra straps the
tarp is being shredded like wet paper. The small plastic clock on
the wall said 4:20AM. Fair enough the old man said to himself, I
can get going early, no problem. Cautiously opening the glass door
the wind yanks it from the old mans hand causing white hot pain
to shoot up his neck and down to his wrist ! He nearly drops to his knees as tears fill his eyes. The dogs move in close knowing they must protect their protector and best friend at all costs.
The old man staggers back into the house thinking this is
not the plan he had in mind. He reached for his camouflage
shorts and attempts to place one foot after another into the
proper openings. While cinching up the belt he counts the 7
new holes that have been punched into the black leather over
the last year and decides a new hole is needed to keep his pants from falling down again. As the old man slowly drills the new hole
he ponders on the dozens of scars covering his old worn hands.
Hands of a past warrior that were thick & strong with callouses
on the knuckles and the knife edge of both hands. Along with
the 25 lbs that have vanished from his body in the last few months so have the lightning fast hands he was once so proud of in the past. Gritting his teeth the old man once again pushes the door
open and steps onto the porch to be sprayed by the horrific
winds and monsoon rains. Glancing up into the black abyss
of a sky he says a silent prayer to himself hoping The Man
can here his words. "Please remember the good I have
done for all those innocent souls crying out for help."
"For when I am standing before you I am at your mercy."
Looking back up into the black abyss the old man raises
his clenched fist in a sign of defiance and screams at
the top of his lungs - "Don't you dare forget me as I
have not dared to forget you, ever !"
Knowing this is the end of the month and everyone in the
country has been payed means the roads are full of drunks.
The roads are dangerous enough but with pitch black, rain
an hurricane winds makes for-certain death & destruction.
The old man returns to the safety of his home and sits while
looking at his two lists. One is a "To Do List." and the other
is a "Bucket List." The 2 Do list is long, the Bucket List is
short. The 2 Do List is reality while the Bucket List is
a day dream. He ponders on The 2 Do List knowing
once the storm calms down he can get some of the
list accomplished . The other list is a pipe dream &
on that list is 4 words - Been There, Done That !
He looks up at the clock on the wall, it's only 5:07AM.
To early to call his wife who is in a government
hospital room in a large city a long ways away.
His heart aches for her return yet knowing
there's nothing he can do from here.
Family are with her right now.
Exhaustion has sadly taken
it's toll on her small body.
Wave after wave of guilt consumes his thinking.
Failing is not an option yet he feels he has failed.
He looks down at a large head that is now resting
on his lap and soon two more furry heads are added.
A smile replaces the frown as his hand wipes away the
tears running down his cheeks. Bending forward the old
mans worries are laid to rest as three wet tongues wipe
away the sadness he was once feeling in his old mans heart.
Tomorrow is another day and some days are better then others.
Thank you for your comments and donations.
Thank You.
Jon&Crew.
Please help with your donations here.
www.gofundme.com/saving-thai-temple-dogs.
Please,
No Political Statements, Awards, Invites,
Large Logos or Copy/Pastes.
© All rights reserved.
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'FEATURETTE' ~ GEOFF BYRD!! (For Song Inspired Group)
(To listen to this great song click the link to the website and go to the LISTEN section) Enjoy!
www.english-heritage.org.uk/daysout/properties/stokesay-c...
Lyrics by Geoff Byrd...
Come one come all to the Featurette
This is a story that you wont forget
Step right up and feel my pain
This is my blood see the crimson stain
Ooh ooh ooh ooh and once upon a time In a land of cigarettes and wine
There was a ghost that still feels sadness
A king who haunts his used to be palace
He’s looking for his chalice
Invisible lines appear to be his treasure now just a figurine
Dancing to the sad music making him feel all alone
It’s intermission so go grab a snack
Part II will start the very moment you’re back
We left our hero in a dreadful state
Now meet a character who’s reprobate
Ooh ooh ooh Mr. Frill lives by himself In this castle with his failing health
And the sins of pride and selfishness
He might have never imagined this
He’s been so hurt he’s callous
The mirror that held his fair image now broken bits of sacrilege
Lying there in jagged pieces making him feel more alone
Ooh then the ghost returns to comfort him
Ooh ooh ooh he’s filled with hope again
Hope you enjoyed our little featurette
Like Mr Frill I offer much regret
The battlefield is our fragile hearts
When good and evil clash your movie starts....
GEOFF BYRD LIQUID CHROME MUSIC ASCAP
© 2011 Geoff Byrd
They told to Marie Antoinette:
"The beggers at your gate
Have eyes too sad for tears to wet,
And for your pity wait."
But Marie only laughed and said:
"My heart they will not ache:
If people starve for want of bread
Let them eat cake."
The Court re-echoed her bon mot;
It rang around the land,
Till masses wakened from their woe
With scyth and pick in hand.
It took a careless, callous phrase
To rouse the folk forlorn:
A million roared the Marseillaise:
Freedom was born.
Robert William Service
Explore #310
Her soles had the look and the color of a piece of leather, must have been quite tough, especially the heel
She didn't wash her feet for 36 hours before I took this picture so you can imagine the aroma...
No doubt, leather soles sandals reflects the best scent - don't you agree?
The Shadow Legion were once a platoon in the great Imperial Army having left the Tartaran military. Now stationed in Federation space forming a PMC. Having Tartaran blood running through their veins, they are merciless in their dealings. Often looked at as cold ruthless murderers, their time in the service made them callous. They operate with maximum efficiency, making entire militias disappear in moments. The Shadow Legion upholds anonymity, an because of this, they are feared across the galaxy. They are called assassins and murderers. But in the end, the job gets done one way or another.
Credit:
Beck for the handguard.
Woitek for the muzzle break
Deathmasque and Worlock for their respective alphabets
REACT07 for the initial inspiration
Kevintk for the MOE trigger guard.
I'm addicted to that heavy scent of her soles after she has been wearing those well worn wooden soles slides. I'm getting a hard on just from thinking about it... and you??
Want to see more pictures of her modeling and shoeplaying with well worn wooden slides and clogs? you can find much more pictures in:
She was so hot I had to take some candid shots although her hubby was around, I hope he appreciates his treasure and takes care of it daily. What would you do to her feet??
After wearing those well worn leather flipflops the whole day her sweaty warm aromatic and slightly dry soles and heels are a real treat... care for a byte or something else?! ;-)
How about a sniff from her dirty rough and smelly soles from wearing those wooden clogs the whole day?
Want to see more pictures of her modeling and shoeplaying with well worn wooden slides and clogs? you can find much more pictures in:
She was teasing me the whole afternoon with extensive shoeplay... she got what she was deserves few hours later ;-p
Want to see more pictures of her modeling and shoeplaying with well worn wooden slides and clogs? You can find much more pictures in:
What do you think of her ultra dry heels?
No doubt, Slutty mature MILFs are the best - and this
one knows how to treat a guy ;-)
Want to see more pictures of her modeling and shoeplaying with well worn wooden slides and clogs? You can find much more pictures in:
"Gideon has become The Creature"
Last of my series "Betrayal: The Creature" written by Jeremy Pritchard.
Below is the FULL story. so read up!
"Passionate & Prepared are two different concepts. In the months prior to this letter, I have been filled with passion & desire. But Prepared for the Leadership expected of me, I was not. A wise man once said, Desire without Knowledge is not good. That's the place at which I would myself. And anytime you're 'bout to get it right, the Enemy's not far from makin' everything wrong.
It was a particularly golden dusk. One in which a pipe, block a' pine & a good knife woulda' been just fine...
It had become a habit, sitting out on the porch with my back to the forest. Part of me wasn't lookin' for anymore trouble out there, and the other part just liked settin' eyes on what I'd built. Like I say, when all is just 'bout right, it doesnt stay that way for long. It was my ears who became distracted first. They began focusing in on the cracking of twigs & shuffling of loose leaves on the forest floor. Next my nose...an all too familiar & intimate stench began to fill my nostrils. One I had hoped I would never smell again. Lastly & most hauntingly, my nerves. Anticipating that terrible sound, my body cringed as she let out...
"Nathaniel"
Closing my eyes, not daring to turn around, I replied...
"Why come for me now? I've left you well enough alone."
"The winds are turning Nathaniel, surely you didn't think I would seek no revenge. I taught you of the former & in return you showed me the latter."
"We agreed to let each other be," I pleaded.
Then with a light brush of her finger, across the back of my neck, she told me...
"What's done is done love, there's no turning back."
And as unexpectedly as she came, also she vanished into the darkness.
Long ago, prior to & through my early days of....well, workin' in the company of some rather twisted individuals... I knew a wonderful girl named Gideon. Gideon was mine, and I was hers. Her eyes used to sparkle just for me. Oh the way she lit up when she looked at me. I had nothing to my name...not one thing, except for Gideon. She was everything to me....and respectively, I to her. Well sometimes having nothing but a woman, no matter how wonderful, doesn't exactly fill the belly. So I began in a line of work, that...well it embodied me, to the furthest aspect of my life. Including that beautiful, bright-eyed girl I loved so dearly.
Slowly, I coerced her, I assured her, I was the one who plucked the pedals from her. I beat her down, tossed her to & fro like a rag doll. But then, her wounds scarred. The blisters became calloused & hardened. And I was no longer the one committing sins with this Monster.
It was a painstakingly brutal initiation, but once she fell & hardened, she began thriving on the acts. Longing only to suck from the infected udder. Sharing in the temptation with whoever willing. Anything causing me to cringe in pain. Her nature had become Bitterness, Envy, Revenge & Betrayal. You can't get a leg up, when your demons never rest. She had become my biggest fear, but deep down I knew that girl was still there. I could see it in her superstition, in her hatred of anything that resembled her past. I could see her in the sorrow dripping from her black eyes. Breakin' mirrors wont hide the resemblance sweetheart.
Gideon had become The Creature."
I'm going crazy prepping for my next photo assignment. Its going to be sooooo awesome. Hopefully? hehe. Late upload due to this craziness. forgive me?
ps. First day of work was awesome. I get paid to do what I love. how incredible.
Dirty and sweaty from wearing them the whole day - I bet you can imagine the intoxicating scent of her smelly soles and the feeling of her rough heels over your tongue... any takers?
Love those wooden clogs, her feet's aroma after wearing them is just intoxicating.
Want to see more pictures of her modeling and shoeplaying with well worn wooden slides and clogs? you can find much more pictures in:
How I begin my day? Some folks are afraid of the big city. The cold #urban #environment and bus loads of sometimes callous folks. Some say that they would rather be in a small town---where people are friendly and everyone knows each other. I can see those places as providing a safety net for many. But for me, I thrive in the big cities---San Francisco, New York, Paris, London, Rome. I often make friends in places where many people from people. I have found cool folks in #coffeeplaces, #winebars and #restaurants all over #sanfrancisco who are warm, friendly and real human beings. They provide professional service as expected but they they go the extra mile and are real human beings. Yes, life in the big city does not have be cold and ugly. All you have to do is to communicate and be aware of your surroundings. So after stopping and seeing my pals this morning, John and Dominick today at #coffeecultures, I am at my office across of the street ready to taste wines, write and work on my best #photographs. (Photo by: Wilfred Wong, August 25, 2016, San Francisco, CA)
She is in her mid 40's mature and sexy and love to wear her wooden high heel dr. scholl's slides. Can't wait for another session with her... her sweet aromatic soles are truly extraordinary and she knows how to use them ;-p
Want to see more pictures of her modeling and shoeplaying with well worn wooden slides and clogs? you can find much more pictures in:
Bet it smelled like heaven, you can see she has been wearing them the whole day.
Good comments will bring more pictures from this session.
When I see this picture I can't stop thinking about that gorgeous scent that spreads from her warm soft dry soles.
Just perfect for that you-know-what... ;-)
Want to see more pictures of her modeling and shoeplaying with well worn wooden slides and clogs? you can find much more pictures in:
The scent from her feet after wearing them is intoxicating.
Her slightly dry heels are a real treat :-)
Want to see more pictures of her modeling and shoeplaying with well worn wooden slides and clogs? You can find much more pictures in:
Can you see those deep imprints? Well, you can probably guess how wonderful her soles smelled after wearing them the whole day. You could have actually smelled the intoxicating scent from a meter away. Yummy :-)
Tavern Fight
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Sir Ian trudged wearily along the boot-smoothened road into the proximity of The Hairy Bear, an inviting looking, solitary tavern escaping the fringe of the seemingly endless pine tree catacomb on the opposite side of the small road. Laughter and shouting emitted sporadically from the stone building, accompanied by a flat beam of flickering torchlight projecting through the growing darkness from under the carved pine door. The establishment looked a welcome respite after three days' wandering without lodging and consistent food. Sir Ian pulled open the door, revealing a well furnished, crowded interior, with servants carrying food and drink to and fro among the small tables. A gust of Northern wind slammed the thick door behind him, drawing attention to his entrance. A blonde, stubbled bartender clad in a stained green shirt looked up and made a welcoming gesture. "Can I offer 'ee anythin', good sir?" "Yes," the weary knight returned, moving towards the bar. "A pint of ale with mutton an' bread would do me well." "Aye, I'll have that to 'ee shortly," the man returned, then hurried into the kitchen doorway and shouted, presumably to a cook. Sir Ian found a vacant table and eased down into the protesting stool. His legs and back instantly sighed with relief. He leant forward on his calloused arms and stared into the grain of the table, taking in his first experience of civilization in many days. Scraps and trails of conversation, floated by, mingling in his overwhelmed mind. Suddenly, one voice became focused and clear. Sir Ian listened intently. "Yeh, the whole thing just wen' up in a blaze. Ol' boss said we did a good job with our positions. But we made it outta' there fast, we heard the screams as we were runnin' for it. Reckon most of 'em just burned in their homes." Sir Ian, with rapidly tightening stomach, swiveled his gaze around to identify the source of the voice, pinpointing a finely-clad man who seemed to have had a bit much to drink. Ian's hand drifted to his cold, steel knife at his hip, eyes narrowing as he watched the man laugh raucously. Discreetly, and with a hot fury slowly creeping through his body to control his action, he pulled the blade from its sheath and rose from the table and moved toward the man. In a loud voice belaying his anger, he addressed the finely-clothed man: "What do you know of the burning of Dunharris!?" The brown-haired man spy around rapidly, a serving girl stopping behind him, a look of worry on her face. The man smiled and heaved himself into the cobbled section of floor, brandishing a glass goblet, a confident look on his face. "You there! You dare to challenge me? I am a Crimson Serpents officer!" Sir Ian's eyes narrowed, and he sneered, replying: "Aye. I do!" As the older man lunged forward, swinging the glass drunkenly, Sir Ian feinted an over hand throw with the knife, than stepped forward and, holding the damasked blade in front of him for a guard, placed his free hand on the man's chest and shoved him roughly to the ground, bringing the knife to his throat. "Tell me who ordered the sacking of Dunharris, and your end will be quick. TELL ME!" "Enough!" A new voice entered the conflict. A broad-shouldered, jet-haired man in a battered hauberk and a weather-beaten cloak ambled forward from the bar. all eyes in the tavern were now transfixed on the conflict. "We have no place for raging assassins here." This was a voice that had faced storms, slain wolf packs, and traveled through snowdrifts. His garb marked him as a mountain ranger, and he spoke with unquestioned authority. He held forth a primed, heavy crossbow and continued. "Make your peace or leave now!" Sir Ian rose to face this new threat, declaring: "This man is a murderer! He has massacred a city! He deserves death!" A quarrel buzzed and the blade was jerked from Sir Ian's hand. It clattered across the floor as the worn ranger drew a small sword and advanced. "Leave now or I'll escort you." Sir Ian, realizing he had met his match, stumbled backwards, scooping up his knife and sprinting out the door into the inky night.
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My Apprentice 2 Assassin's Guild Build for The Lands of Roawia.
This is how her soles looks like after a long and hot day of walking in her flat Birkenstock slides. Just imagine this amazing scent.
I've got my bonus at the end of this day... what would you ask if you were me???
Can you see how well worn are those clogs? I bet that you can imagine the scent...
Her dry soles and heels are just perfect for sniffing...
instagram.com/matthias.dengler
#fashion #matthiasdengler #portrait #snapshopped #fotograf #stuttgart
All photos taken & retouched by Matthias Dengler
She haven't washed her feet for a while... bet you wanna bury your face down there and take a big sniff. Her rough and dry soles are just waiting for a nice load of lotion ;-)
Her feet just makes you go wild, she has full closet packed with her slides mules and sandals.
Good comments will bring more pictures of her
Want to see more pictures of her modeling and shoeplaying with well worn wooden slides and clogs? You can find much more pictures in:
Standing on the Precipice (JHWatkins)
Standing on the precipice-
balanced at junctions,
space and time-
there are no excuses here
no explanations or rhymes.
Locked in lavish rhythm
far beyond the brink-
hid from help or rescue-
on jagged edge distinct.
Weighty voices-
tomorrows bearing-
form forces by the day...
Wound tight
in folds of failure-
by faltering historic foray.
Naked standing truth-
whirl winded and filleted-
open now -
body bleeding-
clean by choice-
ruthless rights parlayed.
Ring round the
restless righteous-
tormented tongues
twisted and advanced.
Weapons trained-
fitting filled-
hopelessness entranced.
New toys
for large little boys-
clicking clocks
in finest fashion.
Positioned perspective-
poisoned possessive power-
from places unimagined.
Whining women-
worn-out white wheezers-
talking days on end-
endless hours
of wasted words-
useless air-
precious spent.
Children torn
apart at seams-
families drugged
and drenched...
Callous toned
nightmares
running wild-
seeds scattered
in the wind.
Lost a generation dark,
aflame the fearless world-
tossed aside by
hellish schemes-
now rampant-
flags unfurled.
Gone-by green
and yearning years-
foundations
fairly laid-
Priceless pearls
in wisdom grown,
crown jewelry
on parade.
But new
the turning earth begins-
choice
once again delayed.
Come cold and calm
courageous men-
run boldly
to your fate.
Stand now in
earnest errand bare,
an era at the end-
Bind up yourselves
betrothed and braced-
to finish
without fear.
(James watkins 2004)