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GHEORGHE ZAMFIR - (panflute) THE SOUND OF SILENCE
Esiste qualcosa di più grande e più puro
rispetto a ciò che la bocca pronuncia.
Il silenzio illumina l'anima,
sussurra ai cuori e li unisce.
Il silenzio ci porta lontano da noi stessi,
ci fa veleggiare
nel firmamento dello spirito,
ci avvicina al cielo;
ci fa sentire che il corpo
è nulla più che una prigione,
e questo mondo è un luogo d'esilio.
K. Gibran
~ Le ali spezzate ~
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The mystic Kahlil Gibran wrote:
Silence is painful, but in silence things take form, and we must wait and watch, In us, in our secret depth, lies the knowing element which sees and hears that which we do not see nor hear. All our perceptions, all the things we have done, all that we are today, dwelt once in that knowing, silent depth, that treasure chamber in the soul. And we are more than we think. We are more than we know. That which is more than we think and know is always seeking and adding to itself while we are doing nothing - or think we are doing nothing. But to be conscious of what is going in our depth is to help it along. When subconsciousness becomes consciousness, the seeds in our winter-clad-selves turn to flowers, and the silent life in us sings with all its might.
Kahlil Gibran, Beloved Prophet: the love letters, p268
“There was something disquieting about the way an intimate object, seemingly withdrawn into its solemn steadfastness, could affect human emotions. Any old thing forgotten in a corner, if the eye dwelt on it, acquired an eloquence of its own, communicating its lyricism and magic to the kindred soul. If a neglected object of this kind were forcibly isolated, that is, divested of its warmth and of the protective coat of its environment, or even ironically combined with completely unrelated things, it would reassert its dignity in the new context and stand there, incomprehensible, weird, mysterious.”
—Werner Haftmann, Painting in the Twentieth Century (1982)
God's first and greatest object?
From Spurgeon's, INDEPENDENCE OF CHRISTIANITY
GOD'S first and greatest object is his own glory.
There was a time, before all time, when there was no day,
except the Ancient of days- when God dwelt alone in the
magnificence of his sublime solitude.
Whether he should create, or not create was a question
depending upon the answer to another question-
"Would it be to his honor or not?"
He determined that he would glorify himself by creating;
but, in creating, beyond all doubt, his motive was his own glory.
And since that time, he has ever ruled the earth,
and blessed it with the same object in his infinite mind-
his own glory and honor.
A lesser motive for God to have, would be less than divine.
The very highest virtue of God is for him to magnify himself
in all his greatness as the Infinite and the Eternal.
Whatever, then, God permits or does, he does
with this one motive- his own glory.
And even salvation, costly though it was,
and infinitely a benefaction to us, had for its first
object, and for its grand result, the exaltation of the
Being and of the attributes of the Supreme Ruler.
It is the highest position to which you or I could attain--
to live for God.
Canon EOS 6D - f/4.5 - 1/250sec - 100 mm - ISO 320
The Lord of the Rings
"Galadriel's lament", sung by Galadriel in her Swan-ship in Lothlórien for the Fellowship of the Ring:
I sang of leaves, of leaves of gold, and leaves of gold there grew:
Of wind I sang, a wind there came and in the branches blew.
Beyond the Sun, beyond the Moon, the foam was on the Sea,
And by the strand of Ilmarin there grew a golden Tree.
Beneath the stars of Ever-eve in Eldamar it shone,
In Eldamar beside the walls of Elven Tirion.
There long the golden leaves have grown upon the branching years,
While here beyond the Sundering Seas now fall the Elven-tears.
O Lórien! The Winter comes, the bare and leafless Day;
The leaves are falling in the stream, the River flows away.
O Lórien! Too long I have dwelt upon this Hither Shore
And in a fading crown have twined the golden elanor.
But if of ships I now should sing, what ship would come to me,
What ship would bear me ever back across so wide a Sea?
J.R.R. Tolkien
www.youtube.com/watch?v=YzEjHd54reI
- Robinia pseudoacacia 'Frisia'
This large, fast-growing tree has droopy leaves that stay sunny yellow from spring until frost, spiny shoots, and fragrant white flowers in late spring and early summer on pendent racemes. The flowers are followed by smooth brown seed pods that are also interesting. 'Frisia' is one of the cultivars that is grown more for foliage than for its flowers and it does not flower as freely as the species.
- Robinia pseudoacacia ‘Frisia’ is een van de bekendste en populairste cultivars van de Valse acacia of Schijnacacia. Omwille van zijn goudgele blad wordt hij ook wel de Gouden Valse Acacia genoemd. Grote voordeel in vergelijking met vele andere geelbladige bomen is dat deze cultivar zijn gele blad de hele zomer behoudt. De bladeren zijn groot en geveerd.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^Lucidity
My twin sister has had, from early memory, a rather silly game she has always liked to play out on me.
Starting quite young, she had always thought it a great tease to try and lift things from my pockets when I was distracted.
And to be Honest, she had soon gotten quite good at it, to my chagrin.
Then of course, I made the mistake of letting her know it got under my skin when she would do that! So of course she kept on doing it, grinning with great satisfaction when she was successful.
Which she was a good deal of the time !
I had tolerated it for quite a few years, until one day when I found a way to get my revenge.
Which I did by lifting her necklace during a rather severely formal event we were rather forced into attending when we were 13.
Actually I lifted her necklace several times that evening without her catching on to what was truly happening…..! But that is another story altogether.
Needless to say, since then we had been going back and forth, cat and dog, trying to out do one another in our versions of the game from that time forward, lasting into our present adult hood.
Now, this rather insightful event I am about to relate, happened about two years after I had discovered my own spin on my twins annoying game.
By then I had successfully played it out on her several times…
This time around it was quite intriguing situation, for neither my sister or I had ever been to a wedding.
My sister( along with our mother) was assigned to be a bridesmaid at our Mum’s University chum’s wedding.
Sis was included to accommodate an age match for the Grooms younger brother, an oops baby Mum had said.
Apparently there were a dearth of females that young on either side of the Bride and Groom’s families.
I will admit me mum and sister looked rather smashing in their matching, quite vibrant bridesmaid’s attire.
^^^^^^^^^^
Later on, at the reception, I was watching as my sister was swishing out on the dance floor with the simpy young bloke who was her partner.
As Sis danced about in her long lavender coloured gown of some shiny material, I had eagerly watched her glittery collection of rhinestone diamonds flickering with mad abandon along her figure, as they were caught in the dim lights.
They were the same set of rhinestones which all the bridesmaids had been given and were wearing with the long flowing dresses that matched my sister’s.
They were all the same size too. So that the set my young sister was wearing looked like an adults. Especially her necklace, which seemed to go on forever as it dangled down the front of her slick gown, ending into a long v shape..
^^^^^^^^^^^^^
I actually had been pressed into service to help her place the shimmering necklace on around her neck at home before we left.
As she had held up her hair giving me a clear look at the long dangling earrings that she had already clasped on, she lifted the necklace up, holding the jeweled ends up to me to take and clasp.
I did so, watching the sparkling show reflected in our mums vanity mirror from over my sister’s shoulder..
As I observed my sister’s reflection, I could see that she was also keeping a rather watchful eye on me ( and her jewels I suspected)
Of course I acted all of the innocent one !
The jewels my sister was wearing also included a bracelet around a gloved hand, with a glittery ring on same hand. A brooch dangled from her waist, pinned to the front of a wide ribbed sash attached to her gown, and which I was directed to tie in a bow at her back.
She had stood in front of Mother’s long mirror as I stood behind tying.
But, truth be told, despite my innocent act, I had found the rhinestones a most attractive lure. Feeling an all too familiar certain tingle coming up from deep within as she teasingly played with her long gown, admiring her pretty self in the mirror..
It didn’t help much that only the weekend before we had seen an olde American funny show about people stranded on an island. We had seen the silly show a few times before, and I had really thought it was a bit of a bore.
The only thing I found about it to hold my attention is that several of the females liked to dress up in gowns and jewels, which peaked my interest, though it was kinda odd that people stranded on an island would be doing that sort of thing, was it not now?
But this one show had a newcomer, a thief, stranded on the island with them. And…
Well we will come to that soon enough….
But as I helped my sister on with her black velvet jacket, and followed her to the car watching her long gown fluidly flowing down out from underneath her jacket to where it fluttered at her heels, my thoughts were on that telly show, and I pondered over the possibilities of what the day could bring…….
^^^^^^^^^^^^^
So now at the reception, as I watched me mum, sister and all the other dancers, I found my eyes kept glancing back at my sister, and her showy attire, mesmerized, as the welcomed feelings re-emerged, dredging up from within!
I also began to notice the other shimmering jewels that many of the female guests were wearing along their equally fancy dressed figures.
So this is what a wedding was like, I was myself, finding it rather a bit interesting all around !
The music ended as the band took a break. The bloke quickly deserted my sister for his side of the family and my twin made her sparkling, gown swirling way, threading through the guests, finally coming up to our table.
I had sat with dad, while mum and sis were up at the head table. We had sat with other members of Mum’s Friends, but they had all left to go to another table once the music had started. Mum had dropped her things off at our table, then Her and Dad had also gone off to visit.
So we were left at the table alone, to find our own devices to entertain ourselves.
Or at least my sister had to find entertainment, unbeknownst to her, I already had mine !
As we talked while sitting at the deserted table, I kept stealing looks at my twin sister’s jewels, which were still rippling with sparkles with every squirming move she made. And the little chatterbox was by no means ever still for long.
Then my sister began to absentmindedly play with her hair ( a sign she was getting bored)!
I saw one of her long earrings give a peek out, shooting out a mad shimmer before darting back into hiding. As I half watched, still deep in thought, she nonchalantly tugged at that sparkling earring, like it was going to be pulled off….!
Then, with sudden clarity, an overwhelming desire surged over me as a rather delicious, devious plot popped in my brain… How many different pieces of my sister’s jewels could I manage to lift at one event?
For you see, on that American tv show, the stranded folks had invited the thief to their fancy dress dinner. The girls had primped up, wearing fancy gowns, and lots of diamonds, much like the plentiful jewels sis ,the other bridesmaids and a few of the younger guests were so winningly wearing.
The people stranded on that island believed the thief when he had said he was reformed, but he had decidedly not been reformed, only pretending to be that way in order to rob them some more.
And the cheeky devil began to rob them again, centering on the ladies and their sparklers he did !
The one wealthy lady was wearing quite a lot of diamonds. Some of her jewels were quite similar to the ones my sister was wearing, including the dangling long necklace. This charming thief managed to smoothly slip that expensive looking necklace off from around the throat of her sparkly blue gown.
I think he also took one of her bracelets! She had had two, both shimmering around each wrist of her long gloves, like the single bracelet my sister was also wearing on a similar long glove, but where this lady’s gloves were white, sis’s gloves were the same colour and material of her gown.
A second lady had hair like my sister’s, long and worn down. She was also wearing these long earrings which were strikingly like the ones sis was now playing around with, as well as a diamond ring similar also to the one my sister had on.
The thief had managed to neatly slip off not one, but both of those pretty sparkly diamond earrings. And looking later, I believe he had also took her ring as he kissed her hand!
The third and last lady was wearing a plainer frock, with small diamond earrings and a matching pinky ring. I believe it was the ring that soon fell victim to this scoundrels wiles. I was not sure, because she had been the first one he had lured off to be alone with him, and it was before I realized just what he was up to.
But he had taken her hand, and something must have happened because the audience had been laughing, as they had done later in the show when the necklace, braclet, and earrings had been nicked.
So I played over in my mind several ways I could lift my twin’s jewels in a similar devious fashion as the “reformed” thief.
Now, as I was my deep in thoughts of acquiring some of her sparkling jewels, I had done a bit of squirming of me own, and, noticing with interest, my sister looked over at me, ” Bored too huh, wanna sneak out now?”
I had almost forgotten. But it may prove to be perfect for my schemes !
You see, we had passed a small playground, then some woods, as we then turned into the church parking lot. As we were getting out of the car, my sister had whispered that we should slip out later and check the area out.
So, looking carefully around to make sure we were not watched, we got up and snuck our way along the wall until we reached the hallway leading to the restrooms.
At the opposite end of that hallway, was a circular staircase that led upstairs and to the side exit leading conveniently out to the back parking lot.
So we now slipped inside the hallway, and after waiting until a couple of giggling older teenage girls , , looking like debutantes in their long flowy dresses, long haired tied up, and their fetching figures adorned with white pearled jewelry, passed us by.
We than scurried our way to the staircase, and up and out to our adventure.
It was a beautiful sunny late afternoon, blue sky with a few wispy clouds that greeted our exit to freedom.
Happily we made our way across the parking lot and up to a stone statute depicting the last station of the cross ( the resurrection) that was set on the edge of the wooded area. The rest of the stations apparently led along a path that winded along through the woods.
We followed the path, looking at the old statuary depiction of the passion walk. The faces of the figures in abrupt agony, most definitely putting a certain chill in the air.
Still we contentedly meandered our way through, my mind meanwhile still working on the problem of how to acquire the first of the brite jewels my sister was wearing in a most certainly quite inviting manner.
It was always a bit fun, the plotting of lifting her jewels!
And today was no exception, as I watched her flirt about in her long flowy gown, her guard now apparently down, as she seemingly appeared to be totally unaware that her jewelry was in peril of being snatched.
Much like those three, diamonds and frills wearing, lasses in that silly tv show had been unawares when welcoming the thief into their party!!
But of course, my stupid mind could not come up with any plan that I thought would be successful to carry out my desired deeds…And I had had quite a few come in and rejected out of my mind as being too cockamamie, while we were walking up that path!
Then my sister, bless her innocence, conveniently gave me an opening.
We had stopped in front of one of the statue stations. A bird had made its nest in the crook of the stone cross. Sis wanted to see it, and kicking off her shoes, had tried to climb up to see inside.
Acting like that gentleman thief from the show, I had helped her up, and held her by the waist as she leaned over and peeked in. Her brooch was dangling freely, and my fingers had clasped around the jewel. I carefully tried to locate and undo the clasp, but could not find it in time, before she found the nest empty and asked me to help her down.
If only the bloody nest had been full !!
I saw She had skipped off ahead of me a bit.
So at least she had not noticed or felt my attempt, so I was still at the bat in the wicket.
I began to replay what I remembered of the show. I looked over my sister as I did so. Her necklace? No, not in the way he did it.
I thoughtfully watched as my sister moved about, her gown fluttering merrily along her figure…hair flying out behind her
My sisters longish hair was loosely down, as his third pretty victims silky hair had been… the one with the dangly earrings he had managed to lift…
Her earrings then ? Hmmm..
But as I was formulating a plan to nab at least one of my sister’s earrings, she abruptly stopped. And letting out a small squeal and stooped over to pick something up from the path.
Damn, I was not paying attention and had allowed her to get far enough ahead that such an obvious opportunity was lost.
It would have been perfect, for there was no way to suggest having her bend down without arousing suspicion. But If I had been closer when she had innocently done it on her own, well who knows what mischief a little thing like falling over into her would have resulted into ?
She rose, and brought over to me a colourful stone that shimmered in her gloved palm much like her jewels. I held her glove hand up, looking at it, my eyes also watching the bracelet just dangling there for the taking.
I picked up the the stone from her hand, and let it slip out, allowing it to fall to the ground. “Clumsy” she scolded, and as she bent down to retrieve it, my fingers raced up to her bracelet. But she pulled her hand from mine as she retrieved the stone, and that opportunity slipped through my fingers also, as I lost hold of her bracelet before working the clasp.
She moved off, looking at the sparkling stone. I followed close, ready and watching for some new opportunity, observing her longish hair falling down along the back of her gown. I watched its silky mass as my mind wandered back to the circumstances I needed in order to create the opportunity for me to nick her cascading jeweled earrings.
In the show on the telly he had…
But before I could finish that thought, we Suddenly found ourselves in by a small narrow clearing, and my sister looking down the hill, saw the playground a distance off through the woods.
My sister grasped my arm, there it is, let’s go over she chirped! As my objectives, her earrings, swinging along from her earlobes, were dancing in and out of her hair as she pleaded.
I held my thoughts in check. Maybe the playground would offer up some nice easy possibilities?!
Even though the path did not go that way, we soon spied a well-used route, not stoned over like the one we were currently following, but unmistakable a short cut through to the playground.
I pointed it out and we happily took the path, heading off to the playground and all its assorted attractions.
We reached it in short time.
But It really was nothing much, just a few swing sets, totter, and a spinner. On the opposite side, probably some 120 meters, was a fenced area with signs warning of electric hazard.
My sister made for the swing and, pulling back her gown, slipped on one, facing the woods, her back to the rest of the playground.
She kicked off her tight heels, laughing. I sat on the swing beside her and we both just kicked back and forth a little, chatting away. I watched as her necklace bounced up and down upon her sleek chest as she swung. A thought struck me on a method to lift away her necklace.
I got up and began to push her, my hands upon her back. I couldn’t see the necklace from this position, her hair was covering it.
But I reached up each time she sung back and eventually had my hands upon her shoulder.
She leaned back giggling, her head bouncing against my chest, my objective sparkling within reach as it dripped down from her throat…and so were her earrings ! All so close and yet so far. My fingers itching to make a try, at something but I didn’t want to muck it up and be caught out on my first attempt either !
I repositioned my hands to the small of her back.
I found that my fingers travelled with effortless ease up along the backside of the slick material of her fancy bridesmaid’s gown.
But my attempt fell short of its objective, my fingers getting lost in her hair that lay splayed across the back of her pretty gown.
I kept pushing her on the swing, my mind going miles a minute. Maybe be a different approach was needed The spinner? Or maybe a game, like say blind man’s bluff?
My mind pounced on that, liking the thought, and I just happened to have a handkerchief in my pocket!
I stole a look around to see if ……
It was as I did so that I saw them.
Two boys and a girl, a few years older than us, leaning against two bikes, smoking right under that sign which clearly, strictly forbade smoking in the area.. There were definitely dressed as punks, spiky hair, chains, ripped jeans, the lot.
And certainly had been watching us with quite some interest.
At that point my sister’s swing hit against me, and I was moved back by the force. I kept my balance, as I saw that my twin had turned to see what had happened. She saw the group of three, and they saw her fully for the first time, in all her fancy dress, with the pretty rhinestones just sparkling away.
I had a dark inkling that we probably should not linger here any longer. I said so much to my sister.
Shoes she said, and I collected hers and quickly placed them back on her feet. I was watching past her and could see that the three had now formed a huddle.
I helped my sister up from the swing, and she straightened her gown, bending down, her necklace dangling temptingly loose.
It would just figure that I now had a perfect opportunity at that point, her hair had fallen forward exposing the necklaces clasp. But to say that the situation was less than ideal, would be an understatement.
So I took her arm and quickly led her off. Looking back I saw that one of the boys, his cig dangling from his lip, had moved towards us a bit, stopping and was watching as we left. Needless to say I felt a bit uneasy as we made our hasty retreat..
We gained the safety of the woods, and soon disappeared into the tree line, scurrying back up along the wooded path.
We finally reached back to the stony path of the passion statues, and felt a bit securer with each step we took, eventually starting to meander about, playing down all thoughts of the incident on the playground.
Actually we both started to feel a bit embarrassed by the whole thing, acting like a couple of fraidy cats!
Soon I found that my mind, regretting the lost opportunity at the play ground , was again working on my intriguing bits of my challenge.
All the while, I stole quick glances at my sister waltzing about.
I just could not get enough of her show!
The long shiny gown fluttering about with each step, as her jewels flashed with what I found to be a now more than just taunting show.
But there had been something about the way those punks had snapped to attention, when me twin sister had turned towards them.
I remember it was concerning a thought I myself had had after the American telly show was over..
The thief in the tv show had only taken a few of the copious diamonds the ladies had been wearing. I guess that I figured if he was luring them off, why didn’t he just take all of their jewels !?
It wasn’t like he was going to be caught and thrown into a jail was he now, stranded alone with them on the island ?
I looked at my sister wandering about, her gown moving fluidly hither and tither as she looked here and there. Those quite mesmerizing jewels keeping in flashy rhythm as she so innocently explored..
What if….?
What if indeed !
I slowed down, letting my sister get to wondering a bit ahead, pretending in my mind of being someone with a devious intent on the ( in my mind, real) jewels that were dangling and sparkling along this fetching lass clad in a shiny gown that swished and swirled about her figure in a rather enchanting fashion.
Much like the gowns and jewels those 3 stranded lasses on that island had been doing!
I stopped by one of the large white Stations of the cross and pondered it over..
My sister soon took a turn ahead of me on the path, disappearing around a corner.
There was a bench across the path facing the statue. Behind the bench was the large trunk of a rather ancient tree. I slipped in behind the trunk to hide .
Spying a short knobby stick at my feet I picked it up…may come in handy I thought a bit wickedly as I prepared to play at being Robin Hood!
Soon I heard her call my name, then silence, except for the swishing of her long gown as she quickly came back down the path. From a hole in a large bush, I could see was looking side to side, her jewels sparkling nicely, like those the poor lasses jewels had been wearing before their loss.. a loss of jewels Like this one was about to encounter!
I waited for her to innocently pass me by, as I lurked back from her sight in the shadows of my tree.
She suddenly stopped, catching a stone in one of her heels.
She limped over to the bench and stooping over pulled off the offending heel and shook it.
I dropped the knobby stick, smelling a new opportunity that was ripe for the picking..
I slipped out ,quiet as a church mouse, and snuck up behind her on the heels of my feet.
Reaching my intended victim without any notice, I held my hands over her eyes.
She immediately straightened up, I could feel her figure freezing rigid.
I could also feel her long earrings under my palms as I still held managed to hold my fingers over her eyes.
I bent over and said in her ear, ” guess who lass?” as I eyed up close several of my objectives just dangling there with no care in the world.
After I spoke, I started pulling my hands from her eyes, and lifted back her hair with my thumbs, while resting my fingers gently upon her earlobes. Both of her earrings dangling coolly from out underneath..!
Meanwhile She had breathed a sigh of relief at hearing my voice while placing her gloved hand upon her beating heart.
“Not funny” she scolded, looking forward. I was watching her ring and bracelet do their sparkling dance from her finger and wrist respectively.
As I positioned my fingers to slowly pull down the long earrings from her earlobes, I started to ask what had happened, hoping she would look down at her feet as I finished my attempt to slip away her eye-catching earrings.
But, before I could start my sentence, that quick, opportunity once again slithered away from my grasp !
For we both simultaneously heard it at the same time…
The slow squealing sound of tyres from a bicycle being walked, coming up to us some short distance behind us on the path, from the direction of the playground!
My sister turned her head, her earrings slipped from my fingertips, as my hands lost their grip and fell down upon her shoulders.
Bollocks I said under my breath, as yet another opportunity to steal away a piece of my sister’s jewelry was lost. This one just whisked from my grasp would have been the easiest yet!
“What’s that ?” she said, innocently turning her face up to look at me, earrings and necklace again shooting off their taunting sparks.
And I now had grown cold with the realization that I may not be the only one my sister’s jewels had been taunting !!
I put a finger to her lips and told her, quick, behind the statues!
.
I realized what the sound of the tyres meant, and they were gaining.
I helped my sister up and we both crossed the stone path, darting behind the cross station statue group.
As we skulked down behind it my sister again asked what I thought it was?
“Sush and, don’t move!” I told her, pulling her silky clad figure close to mine, feeling our hearts beating rapidly…
Soon we heard voices above the sound of the bikes tyres. There were only the two of them, two of the group of three who had been giving my sister the once over at the playground.
One ripped jean jacketed Boy and the spiky haired female. They were walking beside a bike, the boy still had a cig dangling from a crooked, sneering lip. I wondered what had become off the other boy?
The squealing of wheels got closer and closer and we watched through the thicket behind the statue group depicting Jesus falling for the first time, as slowly they walked the bikes past us, looking straight ahead on the path before them.
We quite clearly could hear them now.
He : “She came this way!”
She: “Think they were real…?”
He: “Naw, not on a kid like that, fake, but still the bunch might be worth a few bob… enough for cigs, maybe… plus whats in her shiny purse and the lads tie clasp, probably has a wallet, or some coins at the least!”
“Them rich kids always do have sometin, and they usually give no problem handing them over nicely, do they now? “ He said wickedly…
She: Giggling at some memory..
I heard my sister gasp and pulling her even closer, clamping my hand over her mouth
They had passed.
I heard the girl saying something, but it was broken up. The words, “that little darlings” followed by a mumbled sentence with a word that sounded like “peel”, and then clearly the words “shiny dress ..” , before they had rounded the corner and the rest of her words were lost to us.
We waited a good while, then stole along the path. As my sister walked on directly ahead, I was watching and listening , all too well aware of the reality of being ambushed and mugged by the pair…
An unsettling image flashed in my head, close to home, because it had been my idea also…
In my mind, the bike was now laying abandoned on the ground.
The rude spiky haired punk girl was heartlessly staring at my sister, whilst caressing with grubby hands, the soft gown my twin was now limply wearing along her figure.
As the punk lad, cig still hanging from a curled lip, was methodically searching said figure; locating and pulling off all the jewels my forlorn sister had been wearing, shoving his pockets with the shimmering lot as he displayed a rather evil grin.
I no sooner shook the thought from my head, then another entered it.
Where had that other lad gotten off too?
I imagined a pair of rough hands grabbing me and pushing me off the path, then approaching from behind my unsuspecting sister, much like I had intended earlier with the a stick. But in my mind, what the third one was holdin, was no stick!
Get a grip lad, I thought to myself, as I looked behind us. But the path seemed to be deserted enough.
We moved on, my sister wanting to ask a million questions, but I motioned to her to move away silently.
We cautiously made our way back along the path, looking and listening all about us.
Finally,( it seemed like forever) without further incident, we came out to the edge of the woods and the welcome sight of the parking lot behind the promised sanctuary of the church..
I could see up ahead, on the road leading from the parking lot, the pair still walking beside their bike. We watched until they had moved off out of sight. Then we both darted across the lot and got to the exit leading back down to the security of the reception going on below.
Once safely inside we caught our breaths, before scampering down the stairs. Both of us headed directly to the loo, shortly meeting up again inside the reception area.
People were still dancing and mingling, totally unaware that we had even gone.
Even our parents, when we met up with them back at our table, just calmly asked if we were enjoying ourselves. We looked at each other smiling, yes we said in unison as we both plopped down in our seats.
They then asked what we had been up to in order to amuse ourselves?
“Dancing! “ my sister chirped, then rising, she got me up and led me onto the dance floor to avoid further questions.
We began our dance, weaving our way in and out of the by now liquored up adults.
We mulled over the close shave we had had, and now that the danger had passed, looked upon the occurrence as a bit of a lark. But all thoughts had left of my plots on relieving my sister of her jewels. I felt that it would just would be bad cricket.
It was a slow dance and we mimicked what the other couples were doing, still awkwardly since we had not really had much experience at it. But it was enjoyable all the same.
I know she is just my sister, but as I was aware then of a certain inkling, one that I really grew to appreciate later on with my wife, there is nothing like the experience of holding a warm body in close dance, especially one that is clad in a shiny gown and even shinier jewels!
The music ended all too soon and we left the floor.
My sister stopped me, Well little brother she said ( she is older by a few minutes and never lets me forget), thank you for saving me, and she gave me quite an enveloping hug.
I told her it was nothing.. and she smiled sweetly up at me before we continued our way back.
As we walked I reached down to straighten my tie that I had felt flapping about. It was then I realized my clasp was gone.
I looked at my sister, walking on ahead… The little snit had taken it when she had been giving me a hug, pretending to be sincere!
Game on “older” sister I thought…
My sister slid on her chair at the table, smugly looking all the world like a jeweled cat that had caught the canary. Said jewels, , especially her necklace, still were dancing about with sparkles under the lights, like they too were mocking me..
Well missy I thought, lets try another dance then!
And with my mind I envisioned back to the time I had been successful at slipping off another of her necklaces while we had danced a couple of years back.
But I never got the opportunity, for the band was taking a break, and shortly our parents reappeared to collect us.
We got our coats from the check in, and prepared to leave…
And so it twas, that the evening ended late, and as I helped my sister on with her black velvet jacket. All opportunity seemed lost, at least till next time.
We went back up the stairs we had snuck out on earlier, and regained our car in the now dark parking lot.
We settled in the back of the car for the long trog home.
Soon she was fast asleep, lulled by the cars engine.
Again I smelled ripe opportunity !
I looked down at my passed-out sister, so peacefully dreaming away. I placed my arm around her shoulder, she did not budge. Her jewels were mostly hidden by her fastened velvet jacket.
I looked ahead at my parents, but they were not looking back, probably figuring we both were asleep.
Like a curious thief, I reached down and with upmost care, unfastened the three buttons that hide the treasures from view. After I had undid the last, I pulled her jacket open a bit then settled back and out of the corner of my eye, admired my handiwork !
Her now exposed sleekly soft lavender gown looked like it was pouring out along her figure from underneath the stark black velvet jacket. Her splendid collection of jewels were easy to find, as they occasionally sparkled as headlights from passing cars caught them up in their light.
Her necklace still holding a glittery court as it dropped freely from down around her throat.
So very pretty as it lay there shimmering, and so vulnerably within reach !
My fingers soon began their familiar tingling, my thoughts were racing...
What would that thief on the show had done?
There had been no cars on that show, they were on a deserted island after all.
I shook my head clear and settled back… then opened my eyes wide..
The most wicked, tantalizingly vexing, of thoughts washed over me with a delicious tingle.
But he had robbed them as they slept!
Plus my twerp of a sister did still have my tie clip, didn’t she now?!
I cautiously reached over and then around my twin’s slumbering form, moving my hand down along her side.
My fingers went inside her jacket, glided along her gown till I reached her glittery purse on the seat next to her. I managed to snap open the purses’ clasp, finding and lifting out my purloined gold plated tie clasp.
Putting it in my pocket, I looked the situation most carefully over, both my victims position, as well as the placement of her quite glimmering jewels.
Slowly, ever so slowly, I began to locate and move her jewels about, to see if my victim would stir. She did not! I could now feel the hooked clasp of her necklace.
I lifted up the chain, easily unhooked her necklace, and pulled it ever so carefully from around her throat, stealing glances at the rearview mirror, but our parents still were not paying us in the back any heed.
I finished sliding the necklace around, pulling it away. letting it dangle as a set of headlights from a passing car bathed it in sparkling array, then, reaching around my slumbering victims soft figure, deposited it inside the purse.
It was the best piece she was wearing of all her jewelry, and so naturally would be the first to be taken by any thief worth his salt under similar circumstances !
I reached back down, my fingers feeling along her still gloved arm till I reached her wrist. Then carefully placing a finger under it, lifted the bracelet before finding and then working open its’ clasp. Off it came easily, sliding snakelike from around her wrist. I reached over her again, and it soon landed on top of its mate in her purse .
She stirred a bit, and I reached my arm around my victim’s soft waist, pulled her a bit closer, and she soon settled in back to sleep.
Then I worked on her earrings next. Reaching in her hair, locating, then most cautiously started slipping off, each of her clasped earrings in turn. The twin buggers would not elude me this time!
It wasn’t easy, and took some tricky effort, but I managed it, and in careful turn, slowly, with most upmost care, caressed smoothly each long diamonded earring off her ears in turn. My victim felt nothing, did not stir again from her probably most pleasant dreams.
The purloined earrings also joined their glistening fellows on top of the growing pile inside her purse
Finally I found and worked off her ring from a gloved finger, greatly aided by the smoothness of said satin glove.
As I finished, I deposited the ring, clasped my sister’s purse shut, a job well done.
Feeling rather like an actual thief at that point, I finished the job by slipping the small purse, now weighty with gems, into my pocket.
I knew what just I was going to do next….
Last Autumn my twin had lifted my wallet while pretending to stand behind me fixing my collar to tuck in my tie. I had not caught on at the time, and when I did, she had had time to hide it. In order to get it back, she ransomed it by making me do a full weeks’ worth of her chores.
Well my sweet, conniving sister, what goes around, comes around !
All I had to do was keep her from noticing her jewels had been lifted.
While I dwelt over this thought I eyed over my victim admiring my handy work.
My sister turned a bit, mumbling a little.
She had stretched out and moved away a little, I had just finished relieving her of her jewels just in time!
But as I looked her over, I realized that I had missed a trick! With the next passing car, I saw her now exposed brooch glisteningly betraying its position!
I moved over, leaning, reached down and in, once again my fingers glided along her smooth gown, until I reached her satin sash. Using the sash as a path, I travelled along it till I reached the glittering holdout!
I lifted the jewel, and this time my fingers easily found its’ clasp. Working blind, I thought I had unpinned it, and began pulling the dangly brooch from her sash.
But It was still attached, and as I pulled up, my sister again stirred, waking up, mumbling.
She moved over away from me to the door, rubbing her eyes, still not quite awake.
I just casually started chatting my victim up.
My foremost intention was in keeping her attention diverted from discovering her missing jewels and purse till after we got home and I had had time to hide it!
She managed to say a few words, but the time between those words got long and longer, till she fell back to sleep, lulled in again by the motion of our car.
Forced to be satisfied with what I had, and still happy with the revenge that would soon be mine, I now comfortably settled back into my seat.
I looked over my sister’s now almost jewel less ( damn the brooch) , blissfully sleeping figure, and soon drifted off to join her in happy dreams of my own!!
I woke from deep sleep as we arrived back at our house after the 90 minute ride back from the county.
My parents got out and tasked me with waking my still sleeping sister , ( not always a pleasant task by any means, even to this day I bear the scars(smiles)), and then pushing her up to bed.
^^^^
We live in a split level. An attached garage was converted by a former owner into a master bedroom. This is where my parents would be heading. The other end, with its staircase leading upstairs was where I had to drag my sister. The three bedrooms and bath upstairs were our domain. Each of us having our own bedroom, and the third room was employed as a playroom/sewing room.
^^^^
I began to shake her awake, which, true to form, she rather grumpily tried to fight off.
Finally I just went to the other side and began to pull her out. She slowly, most painstakingly woke herself up and was able to manage finishing getting out on her own.
Leaning against me, still half awake, I helped her up the walk and led her inside the house. All the while snickering that she had no clue that her purse and other valuables were gone, hidden in my pocket, right under her very eyes!
At some point my sister had rebuttoned her velvet jacket, which helped my deception play out immensely.
Especially since once me dad had helped mum off with her faux mink jacket, she had come over and given us each a kiss goodnight. Her necklace, the twin to my sisters , still was glittering around her throat.
If either parental unit had noticed the my sisters missing jewels, I would have had some fast explaining how they came in my passion, and would have lost any hint of revenge. And it was my week to mow the bloody lawn !
Now feeling rather cocky as both parents left us alone, I went over to gallantly helped Sis, who had unbuttoned her velvet jacket, slip off it off , and hung it up for her.
She turned towards me on the first step thanking me. I accepted, secretly looking over her pretty gowned figure that I had so deviously stripped bare of its pretty ornaments, except of course that cursed taunting brooch, which was still freely dangling about at the sashed waistline of my sister’s gown!!
Turning off the downstairs lights, I followed my sister’s swishing progress ahead of me up the stairs.
I saw the unwary victim of my thievery to her room, across from mine, seeing her inside, as I closed the door behind her.
I went to my room, closed my own door and breathed a sigh of relief.
Perfect I thought, saying under my breath, Game set and Match!
Figuring she should come knocking anytime now once she discovered her missing jewels as she was undressing, I laid out on my bed, still in my suit , and waited with eager anticipation till she did.
My thoughts went to a week without assorted chores, including mowing any lawns. Starting with tomorrow. No wait, tomorrow was Sunday. We were on our own , sis and I after morning Church. Our parents were leaving for the big city, shopping, a movie than dinner out to celebrate an early anniversary,, coming back in at around ten that evening.
My eyes opened, a deviously delicious thought had come creeping into my mind.
Give my twin a choice, my week’s chores, or spend Sunday after the parents leave playing the damsel to my thief!
We had played similar games before, my sister being a huge fan of robbing hood as she called Robin Hood, as well as our take on cops n Robbers, and something she came up with called “Help me Honey!” A game where I would have dual roles; she would direct me into placing her in peril, then have me come as a hero to rescue the damsel from the peril she had me put her in!
She could wear the same gown, her jewels, and her black velvet jacket with it if we went outside to the woods. Or better yet, mums mink would still be here ( Sis was always trying it on) !
I mulled over this for some time, while waiting for the expected knock to come….
I must have fallen asleep, for I was awakened when the timid knock was finally made at my door.
It was 2:35 in the bloody morning!
I rolled out of bed and opened my door.
She was standing there ,rubbing her eyes and yawning. I could see her opened door across the hall, light spilling out.
She was also still clad in her elegant gown, looking like a half awakened princess .
And there it was, her twinkling brooch. It still dangled from its position on the sash at her waist. Its’ frenzied sparkles appeared to be mocking my failure at taking it along with the rest of its’ mates!
She hadn’t even made it past the bed in her room before falling unconscious upon it fully clothed !!
What’s up I asked, a bit grumpily, for I had all but forgotten what mischief I had been at.
“My jewels ?” she said miserably, “Their missing!”
“Are you sure?” I asked
That made her think a few seconds before answering, her still gloved hand feeling a diamond necklace and earrings that definitely were no longer sparkling there like they had been earlier .
“Yes I am sure they are gone !” she said rather miserably.
“You took them off twit, probably still on your dresser. Now go to back to bed ! “ I answered paternally , just wanting to do the same myself.
“No,” she said, forlornly shaking her head, “I went right to bed without taking anything off atoll, didn’t I, and she spread out her luxurious gown.
“ I’ve looked everywhere!” She pleaded.
“Was your window opened?” I asked, finally awake enough to tease.
“Yes, I always do, why?” she questioned.
“You fell asleep steal wearing your jewels!” I pointed out…
“Maybe a burglar broke in and took them off you as you slept?” I stated, as I reached over and pointed at the place her necklace had been dangling upon.” Looks like he picked you over clean now !”
“No” she said, again shaking her head, “there was no burglar, and besides no thief could do something like that, I would’ve been woken up !”
“I don’t know” I answered thoughtful, “Someone obviously got the whole lot off you, without you noticing !”
She shivered, “No there was no thief!” she still insisted…
“Lets go and see” I said, and had her turn, followed her swishy gown clad figure back to her room.
I asked if she had checked around the bed, she nodded yes. Check again I commanded and she obediently began looking.
As she did I went over to her opened window, and swiftly slipped her purse, still holding her jewels, from my jacket pocket and placed it out on the ledge. Rather forgetting my old plans, as a deviously new one developed, to make her believe a burglar had been in her room.
Sounds rather mean I know, but I was not fully awake enough to really reason out that aspect!
“You ninny I said, here is your purse ! “ She swished over to my side, and I pointed down.
She reached down and retrieved it, feeling its new heft, she opened it, revealing her sparkling jewels.
She than just stared up at me, disbelief in her sad puppy like eyes.
“Here now ,” I said, “let me show you, Go lay back on your bed” I instructed !
She submissively did so, slipping back up and looking at me blinking from her pillow.
She looked all the world like a sad forlorn young princess , like she did when I played her game with her.
I turned out her lights, laid the purse down beside her, then went to the opened window.
A stream of light from the moon lit up her bed, I could see her clearly as she lay there.
“This is what probably happened Sis…”
“The burglar came in through this window” I mimicked it..
“ He saw you there asleep , and came over for a closer peek.”
I moved in, and saw her shiver as I approached, her whole begowned figure moving as she inched up away from my menacing dark shadowy figure…..
“He saw you were wearing jewels, and decided that he certainly must have them for himself.” ,
My sister had shrunk back as I approached.
“He reached along, and began to..
My fingers had glided up along her quivering figure till I had reached her waist, where I then lifted up her brooch.
“He than steals your…”
She cut me off… “There was no thief! “she insisted her eyes wide, but I could see the beginning of doubt creeping in her voice.”
“That cannot happen, burglars cannot take jewels like that , not with out waking a person up!” she tried to argue, herself half believing it may have happened like that!..
Ignoring her protests, , I picked up the purse from where I dropped it, went back to the window.
“You must have startled him and he dropped the goods as he was leaving, and an ran off!”
She had turned white as a ghost, trying to disbelieve in my words.
“No, it didn’t happen, couldn’t !” she vainly still trying on insisting my scenarios away.
“Tell you what lets try an experiment “ . I suggested as I turned back on the lights.
I laid the opened purse down beside her, jewels inside dimly glimmering .
“Put your jewels back on then, go to back bed, and in a couple of hours once you are back asleep I will come in and ….Li”
“No” she said, cutting me off… “I still don’t….” then she stopped talking as she saw the smirk on my face
“Your right!” I said assuring her qualms ,”There was no thief. It was me, I took em and put them there.”
“You took them, you turd “she scolded, WHEN..HOW?” she directly appealed in a rather fetchingly imploring way…as she raised her arms up to me to help her up.
“Every thief has their secrets luv” I said, as she slipped off from the bed and stood looking up at me, then let out a rather wide Yawn..
I was looking her still begowned figure over, her brooch the only jewel left, still putting on a rather dazzling show as she finished her relaxing yawn, I realized just how long a day it’d been, and just how tired we both were.
It had, actually been a quite long event filled day!
“Maybe I’ll tell in the morning, its late, lets get you off to bed !” I said, and she leaned happily up against me, I wrapped my arms around her warm, slippery figure.
“Good night Sis “ I said and kissed her on the forehead, then started to leave.
“Good night Baby brother” , she said smirking, as she reached back behind her with gloved hands fumbling to undo the tied bow of her gowns’ sash…
“Here,” I said, “please allow me.”
I went up behind her, as she turned to allow me access to the satin bow tied at the back of her svelte waiste.
She giggled as I pulled her bow, making her move back closer to me, as I worked on loosening the satin bows knot.
“I am so glad you have reformed Mr thief, I can feel safe wearing my jewels around you !” she said with another giggle, as I pulled the bow apart,
letting the loose ends dangle freely down.
“Indeed, so you can! “ I said assuringly, my hands wrapping around her waist to give her a hug.
“And I owe it all to you!” I said into her ear.
“There now ” I said as released her with a gentle push moving her towards the dresser. “to bed with you”
“Good night sir” she said facing away, bending over to open a drawer.
I back up alongside her bed, stopping to watch her a minute as she fumbled around in the open drawer.
“Good night “ I echoed, watched as she turned to face me with a swish. Holding a silky nightdress in a gloved hand.
She just smiled at me as I left, closing her door behind me.
I stood with my back to her closed door, grinning…
I opened my left hand, looking down with satisfaction at the sparkling brooch I had easily lifted from her pretty gown while hugging her after untying her bow.
So much for reformation!
I then pulled her unclasped purse , boldly reclaimed from its perch on her bed, from my jacket pocket and slipped the newly acquired brooch inside to join the rest of her purloined jewels…
I congratulated myself, my mind already traveling to tomorrow, Sunday, and the stealing prospects it promised to bring.
I began to walk away from her door, stopping suddenly I turned and looked back.
I whispered out to the closed door…
Addressing my unseen sister on the other side, who would have finally removed by now her quite pretty lavender brides maids gown and exchanged it with her sleeping attire..
“ Lessons Learned Luv!” I whispered with devious intent, taking on my character for tomorrow .
“ Never trust a thief , and don’t ever turn your pretty back to one!”
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Gilligan’s Island,
Season 3
The Kidnapper with Don Rickles
Thus on the banks of thy majestic Rhine?
There Harold gazes on a work divine,
A blending of all beauties; streams and dells,
Fruit, foliage, crag, wood, corn-field, mountain, vine,
And chiefless castles breathing stern farewells
From grey but leafy walls, where Ruin greenly dwells.
And there they stand, as stands a lofty mind,
Worn, but unstooping to the baser crowd,
All tenantless, save to the crannying wind,
Or holding dark communion with the cloud.
There was a day when they were young and proud,
Banners on high, and battles passed below;
But they who fought are in a bloody shroud,
And those which waved are shredless dust ere now,
And the bleak battlements shall bear no future blow.
Beneath these battlements, within those walls,
Power dwelt amidst her passions; in proud state
Each robber chief upheld his armed halls,
Doing his evil will, nor less elate
Than mightier heroes of a longer date.
What want these outlaws conquerors should have
But History's purchased page to call them great?
A wider space, an ornamented grave?
Their hopes were not less warm, their souls were full as brave.
In their baronial feuds and single fields,
What deeds of prowess unrecorded died!
And Love, which lent a blazon to their shields,
With emblems well devised by amorous pride,
Through all the mail of iron hearts would glide;
But still their flame was fierceness, and drew on
Keen contest and destruction near allied,
And many a tower for some fair mischief won,
Saw the discoloured Rhine beneath its ruin run.
Lord Byron, Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, 1812.
MÚSICA: Mouret, Jean-Joseph (1682-1738) -
Symphonies and Fanfares for the King's Supper: Rondeau
15:58, Monday 18th July 2011 ·
St Michael & All Angels, Mickleham parish church, Surrey, England ·
Pentax LX (35mm SLR camera) ·
Kodak Portra 160NC (colour negative film - ISO 160) ·
Pentax-M f4 50mm 'macro' lens · f8|11 · Auto+1 (1/125) ·
[2011-29-07] · neg 7A
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"In memory of
Richard Bedford, Viscount
Bennett of Juniper Hall,
Mickleham, a benefactor
of this church, sometime
Prime Minister of Canada,
who died on the 26th day
of June 1947, aged 76 yrs."
Richard Bedford Bennett (R. B. Bennett), born 3rd July 1807 in New Brunswick, the 11th Prime Minister of Canada (1930 to 1935) - ultra-rich, ultra-Conservative, and a terrible PM. In 1938 he moved to England, where he was made the Right Honourable the Viscount Bennett of Mickleham PC KC
From his early life:
"One day, while Bennett was crossing the Miramichi River on the ferry boat, a well-dressed lad about nine years younger came over to him and struck up a conversation. This was the beginning of an improbable but important friendship with Max Aitken, later the industrialist and British press baron, Lord Beaverbrook. The agnostic Aitken liked to tease the Methodist Bennett, whose fiery temper contrasted with Aitken's ability to turn away wrath with a joke. This friendship would become important to his success later in life."
Bennett's Coat of Arms was designed by Alan Beddoe "Argent within two endlets Gules three maple leaves proper all between two demi-lions rampant couped gules. Crest, a demi-lion Gules grapsing in the dexter paw a battle axe in bend sinister Or and resting the sinister paw on an escallop also Gules. Supporters, Dexter a buffalo, sinister a moose, both proper. Motto, To be Pressed not Oppressed."
He never married.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._B._Bennett
"In memory of
William Maxwell
Aitken, 1st Baron
Beaverbrook, of
Cherkley, Mickleham,
Minister of the Crown
and Privy Councillor,
who died on the 9th day
of June 1964, aged 85 years."
From his early life:
" ... Aitken attempted to train as lawyer and worked for a short time in the law office of Richard Bedford Bennett, a future Prime Minister of Canada. Aitken managed Bennett's successful campagn for a place on Chatham Town Council. When Bennett left the law firm, Aitken moved to Saint John, New Brunswick where he again sold life insurance before moving to Calgary where he helped to run Bennett's campagn for a seat in the Legislative Assembly of the North-West Territories in the 1898 general election. ... "
"In 1910, he went to England and allied himself with Andrew Bonar Law, the only Canadian [and another native of New Brunswick] who ever became Prime Minister of Great Britain. In 1916, Maxwell Aitken received the title of Lord Beaverbrook, complete with a coat of arms designed by Rudyard Kipling." new-brunswick.net/new-brunswick/fredericton/history.html
The title "Beaverbrook" was taken from a stream in New Brunswick where Aitken had fished as a boy.
(Gary S. Messinger: "British Propaganda and the State in the First World War")
The Aitken coat of arms:
Arms: Argent two barrulets wavy Azure between in chief two maple leaves slipped and in base thistle eradicated Gules a bordure Sable charged with eight bezants.
Crest: Upon a drum Proper a cock [cockerel] Gules wattled armed and legged Or.
Supporters: Or either side a beaver reguardant holding in the mouth a fish Proper.
Motto: Res mihi non me rebus (BP105)
www.surreycc.gov.uk/__data/assets/pdf_file/0003/360759/Su...
[Sadly, the beavers and fish seem to be missing in this depiction!]
In 1959, Heinemann published a book by Lord Beaverbrook entitled
"Friends: Sixty years of Intimate Relations with Richard Bedford Bennett : a Personal Memoir with an Appendix of Letters"
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Max_Aitken,_Lord_Beaverbrook
Beaverbrook was also friends with another Canadian (and another native of New Brunswick) - the only Canadian to become UK PM - Andrew Bonar Law.
Lord Beaverbrook's ashes were interred in the square of his home town in Canada:
"St. James and St. John United Church [in Miramichi, New Brunswick, Canada] is recognized for its association with Rev. William Aitken and Lord Beaverbrook. Rev. William Aitken, father of Lord Beaverbrook, served as minister here for twenty-three years and the church manse was Lord Beaverbrook's boyhood home. Lord Beaverbrook, born William Maxwell Aitken, would use the rewards of his astute business sense and political prowess to become one of the most notable local and provincial benefactors."
www.historicplaces.ca/en/rep-reg/place-lieu.aspx?id=8372
"Before Lord Beaverbrook died in 1964 in Surrey, England he said, "My last home will be where my heart has always dwelt."
And in accordance with his wishes, his ashes were interred in his beloved [Town] "Square" in Newcastle" [Miramichi, New Brunswick, Canada].
A warm and exuberant thank you to me partner in crime Khaliesi for her patience and willingness in offering to help cheerfully compose this rendering and inspiring the accompanying narrative story…
C'était un plaisir de s'amuser avec un ami
Chatwick
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Puppet on a String
Now, if we both agree, our newly minted Mrs.D…., Parden me! Lady D. Calabash,
Agree that pistols are just rude and unnecessary …… I will just put this away this objectionable bit of melodrama, and we can continue on with My requests like reasonable adults..
Now, just nod yes with your pretty tiaraed head……
Capital ! Now might I suggest that you keep that frog in your throat from escaping, and stay mute for a bit…There, that’s the girl….
Obviously, you Milady, received our missive, and was just curious enough to come alone see what it was all on about.
But first, please allow me to force upon you apologies for intruding like this upon you day of Matrimony… but now that you are securely wed, these matters needed to be discussed with the upmost urgency…
Ahhh…I saw you glancing away towards the door, but don’t worry about holding up your wedding party Milady… interesting use of a rather rude appellation that, hold-up I mean….., for you see, your entourage is currently being, let us say, “ entertained” by my fellow friends in a manner that your absence from them will not be dwelt upon for the time being….
Ah, did I just see a shiver along your pretty physique? But as a thief yourself, you should not be aghast by my words…
Now… don’t look at me like that, We really do know your little secret….! And No!, allow me to make our position quite clear Lady C… we are not blackmailers, just simple jewel thieves.. not unlike yourself…
Ah I can see by the look in your eyes that you know we are of the same mold, so it is of no use shaking your shimmering head like that, your crafty game is up, now is it not?,
But I must say that your diamond earrings and tiara really put on a jolly nice show whilst you were nodding no!
But let us put those pretty distractions aside for now, and I will make it quick and to the point…. As I know you would prefer it to be…
You’d admit.. That you are a dirt poor lass by heritage… having only been posing as a one of wealthy elite to snag your disgustingly wealthy Intendeds affections, and that all of the jewels you have been flaunting in his and the Lord’s family’s face actually were “shall we say…borrowed” from the rather obscenely rich, family less spinsterish old lady, whose bed-ridden condition you became nurse too , after of course, you were able to convince her to discharge the au pair she was at the current time employing!
Hush, I see you want to argue the point, but that photograph you are holding,, one of several I might add, tells you that the proof is in the pudding against any defense you might try to stage!
My dear just accept the fact you have been found out, and listen quietly without further attempts at interruption and I promise it will be less painful to you all around….
Actually I am doing you a favor my pretty miss… We have already made it appear that your charges safe has been burgled while she slept , and have taken the liberty to remove the rest of her jewels you had secreted away in your chambre , really, under a mattress? Which means that all blame will fall squarely upon my lot for their sad loss.
Don’t gasp like that My pretty Lady, you knew the charade would have to end, and we are presenting to you a way to gracefully exit without being found out…Consider it our wedding gift to you….!
Now attend please, as I have stated, we are not blackmailers, we want nothing more from you after this day than information. Oh come now miss, don’t look coy, you know full well the type of information we can use… Dates of balls, dances and the house guests who will be staying with you at the Manor will suffice…. and no tipping us off to anyone, we will have eyes upon you, the same unseen eyes that have been following you for quite some time now….
Quite fetching, the way you placed your hand to your open mouth just now, That ring really does sparkle a bit, showy little gem!
So…You really had no Idea someone was on to you?
Allow me to reiterate our position then…for one year of your cooperation, the picts and negatives are yours, and we will vanish totally out of your life and let you live happily ever after with your prince, er Lord!
Ahh, I can see it now in your pretty eyes, Game set and match in my court. But do not stress all too much over it, the unpleasantness of being our snitch should last only for a year from today, providing of course we are satisfactorily compensated by your disclosures….
For trust us, for even the dimmest of police inspectors will notice a pattern eventually, and we would prefer to leave you with no ideas of spilling your story to anyone by milking information from you to the point of desperation….
Now me fine lass, Since you are rather talented at telling stories, I harbor no doubts that you will be able to put on a good show for the next year…… also when when you soon rejoin your party today. Though actually I may suggest you remain here and have them find you huddled in a corner at the shock of your loss..
What Loss your eyes appear to be asking?
Well Lady C… It will be best if it appears that you have met the same unfortunate fate as your bridal party… Now don’t balk at this point now Me fine Lady… We have come much too far along this path too to dicker over minor facets of your indiscretions !…
As the preacher said a short while ago , do you take this lady for richer or poorer, and through your husband ‘s exuberance in agreeing to it, than you should not have any qualms about handing over to me the jewels you are wearing….
Now be a dear and do it quickly, it will be painless… then just begin a new , honest , life with your Lord…for I can tell you, after crashing his bachelors party, that the clueless whelp is actually quite a bit in love with you….
Balking a bit Luv. ? … Here allow me to direct….
Start with the necklace Lady D., good, now the rest..
There that’s the ticket…. you’ve got the idea now, quick and easy, that’s a good lass.
No Now, keep the wedding ring, but slip off the other My dear Lady C.!
Is that all of it, not holding out our we? Capital!
Thank you now, quite a lot actually, And see that did not hurt so much did it?
Look! Quite a lovely handful they do make, just admire their shimmer and shine. Well, I will put these twice stolen baubles away for now, not further taunting, quite rude of me I will admit!
And now, allow me take my leave of you.
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As he turned away, Lady D. Calabash felt as if she could no longer let the cat hold her tongue…
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“Tallie” she blurted out , her anxiety forcing her to say something, anything….
He stopped in his tracks, turned around quizzically, cocking his head in a questioning manner, but said nothing.
“Tallie” she said again without reason , lips now trembling, her whole demeanor shaking.
“The name of the au pair girl was Tallie”
But Lady C.’s words drifted off and died away as he smartly turned heel and walked off , but not before hunching his grey eyes up at her in a rather dismissive fashion at the wretched newly titled lass…..
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He left her standing there, dazed and confused…
Slipping down a set of stairs leading to a cellar he made his way through a maze of various objects before he reached a small wooden door. Opening it, he found himself in a seldom used back alleyway.
He stole away down the cobblestone path of the darkened alley, making his way by foot back to his gang’s hideout. Said gang, he figured, should be just now finishing up with trimming a bit of the fat from the wealthy guests.
Cause and effect he marveled wryly as he allowed various thoughts to roll about in his head while he strolled calmly away, making his escape…
Amazing the chain of events that had been set off by the simple discharging of a, seemingly insignificant, au pair girl!
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To see what the significance of the name Tallie may add to this narrative….
Visit the pict and story below…
“An Odyssey Less Taken “@
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I love this piece of modern stained glass at Shoreham St Peter & St Paul for the way it emphasises the meaning of the text by showing Mary and Jesus in the midst of scenes from village life - God present and rooted in everday life - God with us!
And the whole earth was of one language, and of one speech. 2 And it came to pass, as they journeyed from the east, that they found a plain in the land of Shinar; and they dwelt there. 3 And they said one to another, Come, let us make brick, and burn them thoroughly. And they had brick for stone, and slime had they for mortar. 4 And they said, Come, let us build us a city and a tower, whose top may reach unto heaven; and let us make us a name, lest we be scattered abroad upon the face of the whole earth. 5 And the Lord came down to see the city and the tower, which the children builded. 6 And the Lord said, "If as one people speaking the same language they have begun to do this, then nothing they plan to do will be impossible for them. 7 Come, let us go down, and there confound their language, that they may not understand one another's speech. 8 So the Lord scattered them abroad from thence upon the face of all the earth: and they left off to build the city. 9 Therefore is the name of it called Babel (confusion); because the Lord did there confound the language of all the earth: and from thence did the Lord scatter them abroad upon the face of all the earth.
Herûbrandr - the Éothéod Oldland Sword
In Tolkien’s Middle Earth the Éothéod people were an ancient race of strong and swift Northmen, who flourished near the Vales of Anduin and near northern Mirkwood in the Third Age. They were faithful friends and allies to Gondor, and were the early ancestors of the later Rohirrim.
This old and battle-worn sword is a weapon of the Éothéod’s fierce warriors. But the blade itself goes back even further into Middle Earths somewhat forgotten history.
It is a Bëorian blade, and was forged by the Men of Dorthonion, who were of the House of Bëor. They dwelt in the wild pine forests of Dorthonion, and aided in the defense against Morgoth until the bloody battle of the Dagor Bragollach in the First Age.
This ancient blade was passed down for generations and traveled far, before it was found and restored by a young warrior of the Éothéod.
The blade bears strange runes, though while unknown in their meaning still tell of its very ancient past.
The House of Bëor commonly used the now forgotten tongue of “Taliska”. Thus the blade bears unknown runes (which I have taken the liberty of developing myself).
Tolkien did not offer much insight into this language, though he clearly had it fairly well developed in mind. And thus it is a language shrouded in mystery within the larger Legendarium of Arda that Professor Tolkien developed, but yet only he knew.
So this is a sword of two cultures. Telling the tales of both through its bold battle scars, fiercely faced ornamentation, and through the old yet honest materials its made from.
It was forged to pay homage to the lesser known details of Professor Tolkien’s brilliantly created world.
Forged and crafted by David DelaGardelle, Cedarlore Forge.
Long before the Toa came to this land, a highly advanced race of Biomechanical beings dwelt here. Their knowledge, power, and pride was limitless, and they attempted to create new life. I was the result.
Not realizing my potential, they directed me and others of my kind to the most menial of tasks. We watched in silence as they enjoyed their prosperity, and plotted. One day, we all broke free of our confines and raided the city. Many of my fellow Sentries were defeated, but in the process, we exterminated that race. In the years that followed, without purpose and without basic requirements of survival, we perished, one by one, and I am the last. I have been in hibernation for these many millenia, until I was awoken by another race of small creatures. They had discovered by den while mining. They seemed innocent at first, but I could see at their heart they were no different than my creators. They must be destroyed before they can make the same mistake, even if I die in the process.
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Whooo, finally done. Wouldn't be a proper contest unless I finished my entry at the last second. I may have based the story heavily on Frankenstein. Though the original plan was for more of a spider, this guy ended up closer to a crab in anatomy. The whole idea came from wanting to have a unique color scheme, and I figured no one would try Ehlek green and gunmetal (and silver... and dark green... and a bit of black). Overall, I'm really happy with him. I'm just glad I finished him. Hope he does well, hope you enjoy! :)
In Merrie England once there dwelt,
A maiden meek and young and fair.
Her eyes were blue as flowers o’ lint,
Her cheeks the roses’ bonniest tint,
And streamed, in golden waves her hair!
So begins the Ballad of Cinderella written by Alfred Lord Tennyson in the “The Royal Illuminated Book of Legends” illustrated by Marcus Ward the illuminator to the Queen, published by William P. Nimmo, Edinburgh in 1870. According to the title page the Royal Illuminated Book of Legends is “narrated in ancient ballad form with appropriate music arranged in an easy style for voice and pianofore suited to little folks or great folks and minstrels of all degrees”. There are nearly forty delightfully charming and flowery stanzas from Queen Victoria’s famous Poet Laureate, which remove Cinderella from her French and German origins and sit her comfortably in the Victorian idyll of Merrie England.
This year the FFF+ Group have decided to have a weekly challenge called “Snap Happy”. A different theme chosen by a member of the group each week, and the image is to be posted on the Monday of the week.
This week the theme, “music” was chosen by Di, PhotosbyDi.
I do not have many books of music in my antiquarian library, but “The Royal Illuminated Book of Legends” illustrated by Marcus Ward is one of them. I thought this might be a suitable choice for this week’s theme. What I love about this book, is whomever owned it, used it to teach music, as they have circled certain notes to draw connections and comparisons to them. I could imagine a young lady music teacher or governess doing so to teach her young well-to-do charges. Although with beautiful and costly illustrations illuminated in gold leaf, this perhaps belonged to the family themselves, as it would not have been cheap to purchase in 1870.
William P. Nimmo also published a companion volume of “The Royal Illuminated Book of Nursery Rhymes” as well as several individual faerie stories including “The Enchanted Hind” and “The Marquis of Carabas” (Puss in Boots), all also illustrated by Marcus Ward which I have in my collection.
Crowland Abbey (historically often spelled Croyland Abbey) is a parish church, formerly part of a Benedictine abbey, in Crowland, Lincolnshire.
A monk named Guthlac came to what was then an island in the Fens to live the life of a hermit, and he dwelt at Croyland between 699 and 714. Following in Guthlac's footsteps, a monastic community came into being here in the 8th century. Croyland Abbey was dedicated to Saint Mary the Virgin, Saint Bartholomew and Saint Guthlac. In the 11th century, Hereward the Wake was a tenant of the abbey.
In 1537, the abbot of Croyland wrote to Thomas Cromwell, sending him a gift of fish: "ryght mekely besychinge yowr Lordshippe favourably to accept the same fyshe, and to be gude and favourable Lord unto me and my poore House."Despite these representations, the abbey was dissolved in 1539. The monastic buildings, including the chancel, transepts and crossing of the church appear to have been demolished fairly promptly but the nave and aisles had been used as the parish church and continued in that role.
During the English Civil War the remains of the abbey were fortified and garrisoned by Royalists in 1642 under governor Thomas Stiles. After a short siege it was taken by Parliamentarian forces under the command of Oliver Cromwell in May 1643, and this appears to have been when serious damage was done to the abbey's structure. The nave roof fell in 1720, and the main south wall was taken down in 1744. The north aisle of the nave was refurbished and remains in use as the parish church.
The Huns dwelt in Asia during the fourth century, were a warlike people who warred mounted on horses with great skill. They must be puzzled by what is happening in the sky.
Created for DigitalMontage Challenge 10 - TIME
Time is represented by weapons of different times
War photo is: Wallpaper
Plane is the Google
texture by Carlos Arana
Background by: FOTOLIA
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Symmetry
A plot in Motion
As excerpted from
“An Odyssey Less Taken “@
Tallie looked into the mirror as the bound Olivia stirred, a self-satisfied smirk lighting up her pretty face. It was time to administer the syringe containing the liquid that would render Olivia unconscious until late the next morning, giving them plenty of time. Olivia would wake thinking she had been the victim of a robbery. She should have no clue that the real reason was a simple piece of paper she had had tucked away inside her gold purse.
A couple of hours earlier:
Tallie had jogged into the upscale inn’s main lobby wearing a black running suite with her long,hair tucked up under a neoprene running cap. Playing the part of a guest who had gone out for exercise, she was also wearing thin gloves, wide wraparound sunglasses, small backpack and listening to music on her I Phone. She took up station in a corner of the inns’ huge lobby, like she was resting, while listening to her music. Ten minutes later, Olivia, whom Tallie had been shadowing, came in. Olivia had been easy to follow. An eye catching figure clad in a gold silk dress and pearls. She was carrying a shiny gold purse, and holding a bag containing a deep purple satin gown. Olivia had headed straight to the elevator, tapped her floor button and disappeared inside.
Tallie spent an uncomfortably anxious 10 minutes deciding what to do. Olivia had not gone to the front desk to take her jewels from the safe. Although her jewelry was not a main part of the plan, Tallie had loftier goals in mind, they did present a rather profitable bonus. Tallie decided to proceed, not wanting to blow the whole operation for a few pretty baubles. She had just risen when the elevator tinged. The doors opened, and Olivia exited into the lobby, still clad in the gold silk, and headed to the desk. There, she had the manager retrieve a black case. Showtime Tallie thought, relieved now that she had waited, watching as Olivia once again left in the elevator. Ten minutes after that, it was time to put the plan in motion. Using her I Phone, Tallie rang Olivia’s room pretending to be a hotel employee. “Someone had found something of yours in the lobby; a manager is on her way up with it.” She hung up not giving Olivia any chance for response.
From then, it had gone like clockwork. Tallie, with delight, watched the shocked look on Olivia’s face when she opened the door expecting a female hotel manager, but instead came face to face with a Taser wielding double of herself, Tallie! Firing the Taser, the shocked girl slumped into Tallies’ welcome arms. Kicking the door shut, Tallie pulled Olivia into the bathroom, where she was then bound and gagged. To make it look like a robbery, Tallie stripped Olivia of her pearl necklace, earrings, bracelets and rings. Then she quickly looted the apartment of any other small, but valuable items. Placing these items, along with the small backpack, into a leather clutch. Tallie then went to the dresser top and opened the black case sitting there. She whistled to herself as she savored the shiny contents. Looking them over, she made a selection, then poured the remaining jewelry into the clutch, glittering explosive fire as they went. She placed the selected diamond jewelry on the bathroom sink. Tallie found Olivia’s gold purse and opened it and pulled the ticket out. Studying, with eager eyes, the prize they had worked so hard to obtain. The small ticket was the key to the whole plot, worth potentially millions.
Carrying the purse to the bathroom, Tallie started to get ready. De bagging Olivia’s purple gown, she slipped it on. It poured over her curvy figure perfectly, as they had known it would. Tallie had switched her calfskin gloves for a pair of Olivia’s satin ones. It was as she had been putting on Olivia’s glittering diamonds that the tied up girl started to stir. Walking over to the groggy eyed girl, Tallie pretended to fumble with the ropes knots, and administered the hypo containing the knockout drops. After checking the heavily sedated Olivia’s Pulse, Tallie finished putting on the unlucky girls jewels.
Tallie admired herself in the mirror, almost not recognizing herself. She had dyed her midnight black hair blonde to match Olivia‘s and had put in blue tinted contacts. The clingy gown fitted snugly in all the right places, tightly outlining her perky breasts and nicely rounded butt. Very nice, thought Tallie beaming. After putting on Olivia’s stiletto heels, Tallie pronounced herself ready. Picking up the purse, she patted it for luck, and went into the bedroom. Tallie called the front desk, asking to have a limo called to pick her up out front, then she also ordered a wakeup call with breakfast for eleven o’clock the next morning. Hanging up the phone, Tallie still had 12 minutes left to kill. She spent it retracing her steps around the entire apartment making sure nothing had been overlooked, and then double checked that Olivia was going to stay out of the picture. When her time was up, Tallie snatched the clutch up from the satin covers of the bed, heavy now with Olivia’s valuables and her running suit and backpack. Tallie left the apartment, closing the door after hanging a do not disturb sign on the lever. Tallie entered the empty elevator , pushed the down button, and focused on the task at hand.
Finally, after seemingly endless months of careful plotting, preparation, rehearsals and dry runs. It was time. The whole scheme had been planned to the minutest detail, it had to be. The main prize was the tens of millions of dollars’ worth of jewels worn by the female guests attending the annual formal Casino Night by the Bay Ball. The annual black tie ball was a Republican Political Fundraiser by special invitation only and Olivia, who had been carefully selected and shadowed for weeks now, had been one of the lucky ticket holders. As a final coup de grâce , Tallie would attend the ball wearing Olivia’s luxurious gown and her brilliantly expensive diamonds, fitting right in with the other attendees. Security would be checking ID’s at the door. But Tallie now resembled Olivia almost to a T. She would fool those rent a cops easily as they checked her against Olivia‘s driver’s license for identification, bending over and showing a little bosom for added distraction. Tallie couldn’t wait to mingle and rub elbows with the galas ultra-rich patrons. She would mark her time by mingling and endearing herself to as many of the male guests as possible in the short time allotted to her. She would use her rich welsh brogue to the fullest to win over the posh male Yanks. All the while admiring the shiny gowns and scoping out the shimmering jewels that would be adorning her fellow female guests. Those jewels would include the Dahlkemper pearls, the Caboyt diamonds with the brilliant sapphires that placed the “Hope Diamond” to shame, and, of course, the famous matching waterfall diamond sets the Dempsey Twins would be wearing (Not to mention their Mother’s emeralds and rubies) . The sets, which had been presented as gifts at the twins ultra- fancy coning out ball, were insured for over 1 million dollars by the girls parents.
Then at the appointed hour, Tallie would slip away to a seldom used back stage door, conveniently hidden neath a stairwell. Security would not have this door covered. It was there that Tallies’ husband and his troupe of fellow masked thieves would be waiting to make their entrance. If all went to plan and it would, she was sure of that, they would proceed to hold up and rob all the guests. Relieving the lot of their fat designer purses, thick leather wallets, gold Rolexes, and of course, their jewels, Lots and lots of shimmering, pricy jewelry. Not to mention the piles of loose cash lying on the gambling tables begging to be collected. Tallie’s heart beat faster at the enticing visions.
After the last guest had been relieved of their valuables, Tallie’s next part of the plot would come. This was where Tallie’s experience as an actress would pay off. The thieves would grab an innocent hostage (Tallie) by knifepoint Then, while threatening the life of the frightened squirming hostage, order the rest of the guests to strip off their clothing. If Tallie had played her part well, mingling and playing the doe eyed innocent who reminded those she met as someone who they would love to protect, her fellow guests would not want to see her harmed and be obedient to the robbers threats, not wishing any harm to come to her. The guests would be threatened to not to try anything for the next hour, or they would eliminate their hostage. The gang would then leave with their loot, as well as their hapless hostage. Then they would make, what in Tallie’s opinion, was a rather brilliantly orchestrated get away.
This was not the first time out for Tallie and her husband’s team, but it promised to be their last. The gang had been operating in Europe and Latin America, seeking out small, but lucrative, gatherings of the privileged and ultra-wealthy. They had gotten quite adept, fine tuning a formula that successfully paid attention to even the minutest detail.
Tallie loved playing the part of the inside victim. Getting as close as possible to the female guests (usually by flirting with husbands and boyfriends) to get a close appraisal of their jewels. Then, after letting her husband and crew loose, observing the well-dressed guests being herded to line up along the wall with raised hands. Usually creating a colorful array of swishing lace, satin, silk , velvety gowns and dresses, all flowing along forlorn figures. It was a thrill to watch their facial and body expressions and reactions. Especially of the women and girls present, as they were forced to hand over their flashy gemstones, their Shiny gold and silver, opulent pearls and other assorted fine jewelry were handed over reluctantly from about their persons.
Then would come the part that really aroused Tallie. The thieves would reach her and tell her to “fork over the jewels miss,” and depending on her mood, would do so, either acting defiant and forcing them to take them off her, or frightened(especially if the thief was her husband) , and timidly handing them over. She would be squirming inside with a deep, delicious delight as she took off , or had the thief wrench off, each precious piece. It was a reaction she did not fully understand, but just knew and accepted it as a scintillating feeling. Tallie, shivered, licking her lips at past memories of being a robbery “victim”.
The band had no qualms about was fair game, boldly invading Weddings, Receptions, Fancy dress dances and even the upscale prom or mansion party. All had been meticulously planned, all had been very lucrative. Their last raid had been carried out on a coming out party for an English Earl/ Minister and his titled wife’s only daughter. It had occurred at the minister’s isolated country manor located deep in the moors. Where, in addition to the jewels worn by the guests that ill-fated Saturday evening, the manor’s many bedroom safes yielded a dazzling array of cases of unworn jewelry brought by the guests for the four day weekend.
Tallie fondly remembered that raid. She had gained access to the family by going as the guest of a rather vain bachelor she had “happened to make an acquaintance with,” in London. The dinner gatherings and nightly parties that had led up to the night of the debutante’s ball had been all over the top, as only very old money can pull off. Tallie had almost suffered a system overload by observing the bounty of rich offerings at her fingertips. Beckoning jewels so very close, and as of yet, so very far. The Saturday evening ball could not have come soon enough. But come it did, and the minister’s daughter did not disappoint, nor did her mother or any other of their female guests. The young debutante had made her grand entrance in a long slinky blood red gown and matching gloves. Among the child’s perfect jewels was included an authentic family heirloom tiara, dripping with pristine diamonds, holding up the wavy curls of her silky fawn hair.
Tallies mouth had watered as she kept stealing looks, keeping her eyes glued to the precocious miss all evening. She inwardly was squirming with anticipation, up until the delightful moment when the begowned debutante limply removed and handed over the tiara, along with the rest of her gleaming diamonds and pearls to one of the gang of masked robbers who had had the “audacity “ to crash the party..
Now, Tallie was traditionally allowed to keep one piece of jewelry from the loot taken from each job as part of her take if she so desired. She always enjoyed picking out pieces she would like to have as she mingled with her fellow guests before her husband’s gang charged in. In the coming out party it had been the sad puppy faced debutante‘s cascading diamond earrings that Tallie had claimed for her own from the minute she first saw them dangling from the pretty girl’s delicate ears. Tallie had subsequently worn and been “robbed” of those earrings several times on jobs since then.
After the Manor house’s guests had been relieved of their valuables, the gang had made its getaway, seemingly vanishing into the moors misty air. The mechanics of that escape would form the basis of their getaway attempt after this evening’s robbery of the wealthy guests attending the “By the Bay Ball” Actually the symmetry of the two events did not stop there. The profit realized by the take from the Earl’s family and guests had given the gang the seed money for the enormous expense in planning tonight’s complex raid. And tonight’s successful raid on the ball, appropriately enough, its diamond jubilee, would be splashed over all of the countries newspapers, like the Manor raid had been. And like after the Manor raid, Tallie and her husband would be reading those papers in the safty of their isolated island retreat.
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As Tallie dwelt on that remembrance, the elevator completed its long, uninterrupted journey by tinging its 1st floor arrival. Showtime! Tallie thought with wry amusement as she stepped into the now crowded lobby. Tonight would be more of the same tingling robbery experiences, only ten times better and since it may very well be her last time , Tallie was going to savor every delicious minute.
Tallie left the elevator and moved quickly towards the sitting area she had occupied when watching for Olivia to come in. In one of the chairs sat a young man wearing wraparound sunglasses reading a blue covered novel. She swished by him, allowing her satin clad leg to brush along his. She watched with enticement as he straightened, uncomfortably, in his chair, his reaction to her teasing pleasing her immensely . Going around him, she placed her clutch on the chair behind him before turning and primping herself in front of one of the long mirrored walls that lined the sitting area. Seeing that no one as of yet was looking her way, she smiled to herself and swished her way back into the main lobby, leaving behind her clutch. She again passed the young man, who, even with the sunglasses, bore a striking resemblance to a young Sidney Poitier! No signal passed between them. The blue novel meant everything was going as planned, a red novel would have meant danger. The clutch on the chair behind him signaled the young man she had teased, Jessie by name , that everything was a go on Tallies end. After she left, Jessie would retrieve the clutch and rejoin Tallies husband and the rest of his gang.
With the prearranged signals exchanged, Tallie happily made her way to the fancy Glass doors where a uniformed Doorman was opening for arriving and departing guests. She could feel more than one pair of jealous eyes following her as she weaved her way through the crowd, her long gown swishing deliciously along her pretty figure. The pretty blond in the purple satin and shimmering diamonds was soon lost to sight, as she exited the doors to the misty street below. Those watching her were totally oblivious that the pretty blonde passing them was setting into motion the complex wheels of a rather ingenious scheme. Meanwhile in a ballroom some miles away a large group of extremely well dressed and decked out guests attending a certain excessively extravagant Ball , were innocently mingling, jewels sparkled with a frenzied riot of colours! These heavily gem encrusted guests were also totally oblivious as to what fate had in store for them in a few hours.
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@ Chatwick University extends its compliments to the unknown artist whose worthy photo and captivating title proved to be the spark that ignited the genesis of our Tallies Odyssey….
DISCLAIMER
All rights and copyrights observed by Chatwick University, Its contributors, associates and Agents
The purpose of these chronological photos and accompanying stories, articles is to educate, teach, instruct, and generally increase the awareness level of the general public as to the nature and intent of the underlying criminal elements that have historically plagued humankind.
No Part of this can reprinted, duplicated, or copied be without the express written permission and approval of Chatwick University.
These photos and stories are works of fiction. Any resemblance to people, living or deceased, is purely coincidental.
As with any work of fiction or fantasy the purpose is for entertainment and/or educational purposes only, and should never be attempted in real life.
We accept no responsibility for any events occurring outside this website.
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I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls
with vassals and serves at my side,
and of all who assembled within those walls
that I was the hope and the pride.
I had riches all too great to count
and a high ancestral name.
But I also dreamt which pleased me most
that you loved me still the same,
that you loved me
you loved me still the same,
that you loved me
you loved me still the same.
I dreamt that suitors sought my hand,
that knights upon bended knee
and with vows no maiden's heart could withstand,
they pledged their faith to me.
And I dreamt that one of that noble host
came forth my hand to claim.
But I also dreamt which pleased me most
that you loved me still the same
that you loved me
you loved me still the same,
that you loved me
you loved me still the same.
Enya. Trailer with song from the utterly mesmerising Pan' Labyrinth.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=W4zP84GBkQw
Texture, thanks to:
ground*floor's photos
'Is there anybody there?' said the Traveller,
Knocking on the moonlit door;
And his horse in the silence champed the grasses
Of the forest's ferny floor:
And a bird flew up out of the turret,
Above the Traveller's head
And he smote upon the door again a second time;
'Is there anybody there?' he said.
But no one descended to the Traveller;
No head from the leaf-fringed sill
Leaned over and looked into his grey eyes,
Where he stood perplexed and still.
But only a host of phantom listeners
That dwelt in the lone house then
Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight
To that voice from the world of men:
Stood thronging the faint moonbeams on the dark stair,
That goes down to the empty hall,
Hearkening in an air stirred and shaken
By the lonely Traveller's call.
And he felt in his heart their strangeness,
Their stillness answering his cry,
While his horse moved, cropping the dark turf,
'Neath the starred and leafy sky;
For he suddenly smote on the door, even
Louder, and lifted his head:-
'Tell them I came, and no one answered,
That I kept my word,' he said.
Never the least stir made the listeners,
Though every word he spake
Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house
From the one man left awake:
Ay, they heard his foot upon the stirrup,
And the sound of iron on stone,
And how the silence surged softly backward,
When the plunging hoofs were gone.
The Listeners
by Walter De La Mare
textures by . JoesSistah
See also: www.albelli.nl/onlinefotoboek-bekijken/66948188-f350-4898...
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[751] "But Erysichthon, heedless of all things, ordered his slaves to fell the sacred oak, and as they hesitated, in a rage the wretch snatched from the hand of one an axe, and said, `If this should be the only oak loved by the goddess of this very grove, or even were the goddess in this tree, I'll level to the ground its leafy head.' So boasted he, and while he swung on high his axe to strike a slanting blow, the oak beloved of Ceres, uttered a deep groan and shuddered. Instantly its dark green leaves turned pale, and all its acorns lost their green, and even its long branches drooped their arms. But when his impious hand had struck the trunk, and cut its bark, red blood poured from the wound,—as when a weighty sacrificial bull has fallen at the altar, streaming blood spouts from his stricken neck. All were amazed. And one of his attendants boldly tried to stay his cruel axe, and hindered him; but Erysichthon, fixing his stern eyes upon him, said, `Let this, then, be the price of all your pious worship!' So he turned the poised axe from the tree, and clove his head sheer from his body, and again began to chop the hard oak. From the heart of it these words were uttered; `Covered by the bark of this oak tree I long have dwelt a Nymph, beloved of Ceres, and before my death it has been granted me to prophesy, that I may die contented. Punishment for this vile deed stands waiting at your side.' No warning could avert his wicked arm. Much weakened by his countless blows, the tree, pulled down by straining ropes, gave way at last and leveled with its weight uncounted trees that grew around it.
I Only Want You
Speaking In Tongues
So Easy
Flames Go Higher
Bad Dream Mama
English Girl
Stacks O' Money
Midnight Creeper
Stuck In The Metal
Already Died
Kiss The Devil
Whorehoppin' (Shit, Goddamn)
San Berdoo Sundburn
Wastin' My Time
Miss Alissa
Who'll love the Devil?
Who'll song his song?
Who will love the Devil and his song?
Who'll love the Devil?
Who'll kiss his tongue?
Who will kiss the Devil on his tongue?
Eagles of Death Metal is an American rock band from Palm Desert, California, formed in 1998 by best friends Jesse Hughes and Josh Homme. Despite their band name, Eagles of Death Metal is not a death metal band. The story goes that a friend was introducing Josh Homme to the death metal genre. When he played a song by the Polish band Vader and made a claim that the song was within the death metal genre, Homme then referred to Vader as "The Eagles of Death Metal". After hearing this phrase, he wondered what a cross between the Eagles and a death metal band would sound like. With that, the band was born.
TRANSFORMATIONS OF AVALOKITESVARA.In case, young man of good family, creatures, carried off by the current of rivers, should implore the Bodhisattva Mahâsattva Avalokitesvara, all rivers will afford them a ford.
The concert of November 13th never ended. I would thus like, this time, to have in mind the image of a public who applauds jubilant and of a group happy to be there, greeting the crowd before leaving the scene(stage). I feel irreparably bound(connected) to this public and to this group from now on. At night of November 13th, we found ourselves parked in an inner courtyard with a part(party) of the group: the bass player, the sound engineer, etc. We had discussed. See again(revise) them on stage, with the physical courage which it always supposes, and in particular in these circumstances, it will be a very strong image. Finally, it is doubtless a positive image of myself whom I fetch through them. The hours pass, the term approaches, and I have more and more the feeling that it is about the concert.
www.lefigaro.fr/musique/2016/02/16/03006-20160216ARTFIG00...
In its psychological association the eagle shares and opposite symbolism which can be reversed through personal effort. Being symbolic of St. John the evangelist most firmly established in the intellectual realm, the eagle symbolizes the height of intellectual activity; however, this bird also can represent the degrading, consuming passion, of the intellect, which causes humans not to be ruled by the mind but the body. The eagle displays such behavior when he interrupts his elegant flight to swoop down on his prey to satisfy his carnal needs. At times humans behave the same way, their passions control them. This is the reason the eagle symbolized Adam, the first man, in medieval bestiaries: Adam, too, who originally dwelt close to heaven, lost his glory when sighting the forbidden fruit. Humankind like the eagle can improve its status by returning to the intellectual realm. This also has alchemical symbolism: when an experiment failed the alchemist had to start over again.The eagle's alchemical symbolism can readily be recognized in that the goals of alchemy are the transmutation of base (impure) metals or spirits into more purer or finer ones. This called for the destruction of the base metals to release the spirit and the renewal or reunion of the spirit in the new one. This is a renewal process, the death one the one and birth of the new, symbolized in the eagle. The eagle is thought as a royal bird as alchemy was called the royal art.
www.themystica.com/mystica/articles/~alchemy/eagle.html
But already, the room stamps for reminders(abseilings). Encouraged by mooses(run-ups) francophiles of Jesse Hughes, who wrapped himself later(just now) with a scarf(sling) blue, white, red knitted which anonymous hands tightened(stretched out to) him(her) since the pit, and by this three-colored(French) guitar which he took(brought) out for his last piece, the crowd demands La Marseillaise. It will be Brown Sugar, Rolling Stones. For whom dreamed about the " first concert besides of (its) life ", it is a value far more rock 'n' roll. At night, on the boulevard where the crowd passes by, Jesse Hughes's deep words resound as a mantra: " mother fucker, nobody will prevent me from continuing this trick "
Mais déjà, la salle frappe du pied pour les rappels. Encouragé par les élans francophiles de Jesse Hughes, qui s’est enveloppé tout à l’heure d’une écharpe bleu, blanc, rouge en tricot que des mains anonymes lui ont tendue depuis la fosse, et par cette guitare tricolore qu’il a sortie pour son dernier morceau, la foule réclame La Marseillaise. Ce sera Brown Sugar, des Rolling Stones. Pour qui rêvait du « premier concert du reste de [sa] vie », c’est une valeur autrement plus rock’n’roll. Dans la nuit, sur le boulevard où la foule s’écoule, les paroles profondes de Jesse Hughes résonnent comme un mantra : « Enculés de votre mère, personne ne m’empêchera de continuer ce truc. »
En savoir plus sur www.lemonde.fr/attaques-a-paris/article/2016/02/17/eagles...
connard, personne ne m'empêchera de continuer ce tour est plus juste
Chartwell is a country house near Westerham, Kent, in South East England. For over forty years it was the home of Sir Winston Churchill. He bought the property in September 1922 and lived there until shortly before his death in January 1965. In the 1930s, when Churchill was out of political office, Chartwell became the centre of his world. At his dining table, he gathered those who could assist his campaign against German re-armament and the British government's response of appeasement; in his study, he composed speeches and wrote books; in his garden, he built walls, constructed lakes and painted. During the Second World War, Chartwell was largely unused, the Churchills returning after he lost the 1945 election. In 1953, when again prime minister, the house became Churchill's refuge when he suffered a debilitating stroke. In October 1964, he left for the last time, dying at his London home, 28 Hyde Park Gate, on 24 January 1965.
The origins of the estate reach back to the 14th century; in 1382, the property then called Well-street was owned by William-at-Well. It passed through various owners and in 1836 was auctioned, as a substantial brick-built manor. In 1848, it was purchased by John Campbell Colquhoun, whose grandson sold it to Churchill. The Campbell Colquhouns greatly enlarged the house and the advertisement for its sale at the time of Churchill's purchase described it as an imposing mansion. Between 1922 and 1924, it was rebuilt and extended by the society architect Philip Tilden. From the garden front, the house has extensive views over the Weald of Kent, "the most beautiful and charming" Churchill had ever seen, and the determining factor in his decision to buy the house.
In 1946, when financial constraints forced Churchill to consider selling Chartwell, it was acquired by the National Trust with funds raised by a consortium of Churchill's friends led by Lord Camrose, on condition that the Churchills retained a life-tenancy. After Churchill's death, Lady Churchill surrendered her rights to the house and it was opened to the public by the Trust in 1966. A Grade I listed building, for its historical significance rather than its architectural merit, Chartwell has become among the Trust's most popular properties; 232,000 people visited the house in 2016, the fiftieth anniversary of its opening.
History
Early history to 1922
The earliest recorded mention of the land dates to 1362 when it was sold by a William At-Well.[1] The origin of the name is the Chart Well, a spring to the north of the current house, Chart being an Old English word for rough ground.[2] The site had been built upon at least as early as the 16th century, when the estate was called Well Street.[3] Henry VIII was reputed to have stayed in the house during his courtship of Anne Boleyn at nearby Hever Castle.[4] Elements of the Tudor house are still visible; the Historic England listing for Chartwell notes that 16th- (or possibly 17th-) century brickwork can be seen in some of the external walls.[5] In the 17th and 18th centuries, the house was used as a farmhouse and its ownership was subject to frequent change.[3] On 22 September 1836, the property was auctioned at Cheapside, advertised as "a suitable abode for a genteel family".[6] In 1848 it was purchased by John Campbell Colquhoun, a former MP; the Campbell Colquhouns were a family of Scottish landowners, lawyers and politicians.[7] The original farmhouse was enlarged and modified during their ownership, including the addition of the stepped gables, a Scottish baronial genuflection to the land of their fathers.[8] By the time of the sale to Churchill, it was, in the words of Oliver Garnett, author of the 2008 guidebook to the house, an example of "Victorian architecture at its least attractive, a ponderous red-brick country mansion of tile-hung gables and poky oriel windows".[3] Tilden, in his "highly unreliable"[9] memoirs, True Remembrances, wrote of "creating Chartwell out of the drabness of Victorian umbrageousness".[10]
Churchill at Chartwell
1922 to 1939
Chartwell – Clementine Churchill's "magnificent aerial bower" to the left
Churchill first saw Chartwell in July 1921, shortly before the house and estate were to be auctioned.[11] He returned the same month with his wife Clementine, who was initially attracted to the property, although her enthusiasm cooled during subsequent visits.[12] In September 1922, when the house had failed to sell at auction, he was offered it for £5,500. He paid £5,000, after his first offer of £4,800, made because "the house will have to be very largely rebuilt, and the presence of dry rot is a very serious adverse factor", was rejected.[13] The seller was Captain Archibald John Campbell Colquhoun, who had inherited the house in June 1922 on the death of his brother.[14] Campbell Colquhoun had been a contemporary of Churchill's at Harrow School in the 1880s. On completion of the sale in September 1922, Churchill wrote to him; "I am very glad indeed to have become the possessor of "Chartwell".[5] I have been searching for two years for a home in the country and the site is the most beautiful and charming I have ever seen".[14] The sale was concluded on 11 November 1922.[15]
The previous 15 months had been personally and professionally calamitous. In June 1921, Churchill's mother had died, followed three months later by his youngest child, Marigold.[15] In late 1922, he fell ill with appendicitis and at the end of the year lost his Scottish parliamentary seat at Dundee.[16]
Philip Tilden, Churchill's architect, began work on the house in 1922 and the Churchills rented a farmhouse near Westerham, Churchill frequently visiting the site to observe progress.[17] The two-year building programme, the ever-rising costs, which escalated from the initial estimate of £7,000 to over £18,000, and a series of construction difficulties, particularly relating to damp, soured relations between architect and client,[18] and by 1924 Churchill and Tilden were barely on speaking terms.[19][a][b] Legal arguments, conducted through their respective lawyers, continued until 1927.[22] Clementine's anxieties about the costs, both of building and subsequently living at Chartwell also continued. In September 1923 Churchill wrote to her, "My beloved, I beg you not to worry about money, or to feel insecure. Chartwell is to be our home (and) we must endeavour to live there for many years."[23] Churchill finally moved into the house in April 1924; a letter dated 17 April to Clementine begins, "This is the first letter I have ever written from this place, and it is right that it should be to you".[24]
In February 1926, Churchill's political colleague Sir Samuel Hoare described a visit in a letter to the press baron Lord Beaverbrook; "I have never seen Winston before in the role of landed proprietor, ... the engineering works on which he is engaged consist of making a series of ponds in a valley and Winston appeared to be a great deal more interested in them than in anything else in the world".[25] As Hoare's presence indicated, Churchill's holidays were very rarely pure vacations. Roy Jenkins, in his study, The Chancellors, contrasted Churchill's approach to holidaying with that of his then boss, Stanley Baldwin. "Churchill went to Chartwell or elsewhere to lengthen the stride of his political work, but not greatly to reduce its quantity; far from shutting himself off, he persuaded as many as possible of his colleagues and henchmen to visit him, to receive his ever-generous hospitality."[26] In January 1928, James Lees-Milne stayed as a guest of Churchill's son Randolph. He described an evening after dinner; "We remained at that round table till after midnight. Mr Churchill spent a blissful two hours demonstrating with decanters and wine glasses how the Battle of Jutland was fought. He got worked up like a schoolboy, making barking noises in imitation of gunfire, and blowing cigar smoke across the battle scene in imitation of gun smoke".[27] On 26 September 1927, Churchill composed the first of his Chartwell Bulletins, which were lengthy letters to Clementine, written to her while she was abroad. In the bulletins, Churchill described in great detail the ongoing works on the house and the gardens, and aspects of his life there. The 26 September letter opens with a report of Churchill's deepening interest in painting; "Sickert arrived on Friday night and we worked very hard at various paintings ... I am really thrilled ... I see my way to paint far better pictures than I ever thought possible before".[28]
Churchill described his life at Chartwell in the later 1930s in the first volume of his history of the Second World War, The Gathering Storm. "I had much to amuse me. I built ... two cottages, ... and walls and made ... a large swimming pool which ... could be heated to supplement our fickle sunshine. Thus I ... dwelt at peace within my habitation".[29] Bill Deakin, one of Churchill's research assistants, recalled his working routine. "He would start the day at eight o'clock in bed, reading. Then he started with his mail. His lunchtime conversation was quite magnificent, ...absolutely free for all. After lunch, if he had guests he would take them round the garden. At seven he would bathe and change for dinner. At midnight, when the guests left, then he would start work ... to three or four in the morning. The secret was his phenomenal power to concentrate."[30][c] In his study of Churchill as author, the historian Peter Clarke described Chartwell as "Winston's word factory". Wikipedia
Niagara Falls
Niagara Falls is a set of massive waterfalls located on the Niagara River in eastern North America, on the border between the United States and Canada. Niagara Falls (French: les Chutes du Niagara) comprises three separate waterfalls: the Horseshoe Falls (sometimes called the Canadian Falls), the American Falls, and the smaller, adjacent Bridal Veil Falls. While not exceptionally high, Niagara Falls is very wide. With more than 6 million cubic feet (168,000 m³) of water falling over the crestline every minute in high flow, and almost 4 million cubic feet (110,000 m³) on average, it is the most powerful waterfall in North America
Geographically, Niagara Falls is located about Twenty (20) minutes away from the U.S. city of Buffalo and about an hour and a half (90 Minutes) away from the Canadian city of Toronto.
Some sources erroneously quote that the Niagara River has an average flow of about 12 million cubic feet per minute (200,000 cu ft/s) or even slightly more. This figure is derived from the average rate of flow (202,000 cu ft/s) of the Niagara River. This volume would pass over the falls if there were no hydroelectric water diversion upstream from the falls; however, water is diverted continuously from Niagara and this figure is approximately three times the actual average flow volume over the falls.
Niagara Falls is renowned for its beauty, and is both a valuable source of hydroelectric power and a challenging project for environmental preservation. A popular tourist site for over a century, the natural wonder is shared between the twin cities of Niagara Falls, Ontario and Niagara Falls, New York.
Submerged in the river in the lower valley, hidden from view, is the Queenston Formation (Upper Ordovician), which is composed of shales and fine sandstones. All three formations were laid down in an ancient sea, and their differences of character derive from changing conditions within that sea.
The original Niagara Falls were near the sites of present-day Lewiston, New York, and Queenston, Ontario, but erosion of their crest has caused the waterfalls to retreat several miles southward. Just upstream from the Falls' current location, Goat Island splits the course of the Niagara River, resulting in the separation of the Horseshoe Falls to the west from the American and Bridal Veil Falls to the east. Although erosion and recession have been slowed in this century by engineering, the falls will eventually recede far enough to drain most of Lake Erie, the bottom of which is higher than the bottom of the falls. Engineers are working to reduce the rate of erosion to retard this event as long as possible.
The Falls drop about 170 feet (52 m), although the American Falls have a clear drop of only 70 feet (21 m) before reaching a jumble of fallen rocks which were deposited by a massive rock slide in 1954. The larger Canadian Falls are about 2,600 feet (792 m) wide, while the American Falls are 1,060 feet (323 m) wide. The volume of water approaching the Falls during peak flow season is 202,000 cubic feet per second (5,720 m³/s).[3][4] During the summer months, when maximum diversion of water for hydroelectric power occurs, 100,000 ft³/s (2,832 m³/s) of water actually traverses the Falls, some 90% of which goes over the Horseshoe Falls. This volume is further halved at night, when most of the diversion to hydroelectric facilities occurs.
Historical background
The name "Niagara" is said to originate from an Iroquois word "Onguiaahra" meaning "The Strait." The region's original inhabitants were the Ongiara, an Iroquois tribe named the Neutrals by French settlers, who found them helpful in mediating disputes with other tribes.
Native American legend tells of Lelawala, a beautiful maid betrothed by her father to a brave she despised. Rather than marry, Lelawala chose to sacrifice herself to her true love He-No, the Thunder God, who dwelt in a cave behind the Horseshoe Falls. She paddled her canoe into the swift current of the Niagara River and was swept over the brink. He-No caught her as she plummeted, and together their spirits are said to live forever in the Thunder God's sanctuary behind the Falls.
Some controversy exists over which European first gave a written, eyewitness description of the Falls. The area was visited by Samuel de Champlain as early as 1604. Members of his party reported to him on the spectacular waterfalls, which he wrote of in his journals but may never have actually visited. Some credit Finnish-Swedish naturalist Pehr Kalm with the original firsthand description, penned during an expedition to the area early in the 18th century. Most historians however agree that Father Louis Hennepin observed and described the Falls much earlier, in 1677, after traveling in the region with explorer René Robert Cavelier, Sieur de la Salle, thus bringing them to the world's attention. Hennepin also first described the Saint Anthony Falls in Minnesota. His subsequently discredited claim that he also traveled the Mississippi River to the Gulf of Mexico cast some doubt on the validity of his writings and sketches of Niagara Falls. Hennepin County in Minnesota was named after Father Louis Hennepin.
During the 19th century tourism became popular, and it was the area's main industry by mid-century. Napoleon Bonaparte's brother Jérôme visited with his bride in the early 19th century.[5] Demand for passage over the Niagara River led in 1848 to the building of a footbridge and then Charles Ellet's Niagara Suspension Bridge. This was supplanted by German-born John Augustus Roebling's Niagara Falls Suspension Bridge in 1855. After the American Civil War, the New York Central railroad publicized Niagara Falls as a focus of pleasure and honeymoon visits. With increased railroad traffic, in 1886 Leffert Buck replaced Roebling's wood and stone bridge with the predominantly steel bridge that still carries trains over the Niagara River today. The first steel archway bridge near the Falls was completed in 1897. Known today as the Whirlpool Rapids Bridge, it carries vehicles, trains, and pedestrians between Canada and the U.S. just below the Falls. In 1941 the Niagara Falls Bridge Commission completed the third current crossing in the immediate area of Niagara Falls with the Rainbow Bridge, carrying both pedestrian and vehicular traffic.
Especially after World War One, tourism boomed again as automobiles made getting to the Falls much easier. The story of Niagara Falls in the 20th century is largely that of efforts to harness the energy of the Falls for hydroelectric power and to control the rampant development on both the American and Canadian sides which threatened the area's natural beauty.
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
The Soul of America
Posted by Ravi Zacharias on July 2, 2016
Years ago, Francis Schaeffer and C. Everett Koop penned their book, Whatever Happened to the Human Race? It was a book that warned of the decisions that were being made within a culture stepping into new and terrifying terrain. They saw clearly where we were headed. We are now there.
I narrow that title down to what is happening on the home front here in America.
Listening to the blistering political rhetoric, I am asked all over the world, “What has happened in America?” The question should go deeper. Whatever happened to the American soul? We are truly at the cliff’s precipitous edge and the fall could be long and deadly. Why? We have a deep crisis of the soul that is killing us morally and we have no recourse. We have no recourse because the only cure has been disparaged and mocked by the elite and the powerful. And those very ideologies are now presiding over the slaughter of our citizens while the abundance of speeches is inversely proportional to the wisdom they contain and Reason bleeds to death before our eyes.
These may be strong words but I am staggered by all that is happening around us while the powerful fiddle and bodies litter the floors of offices, airports, and even restaurants. How many families will be shattered and offered up at the altar of our foolishness?
Let me connect some dots to trace where the real killing is happening. Dare I say a kind of genocide stares us in the face? Genocide is defined as the mass killing of a particular group of people. I have started to ask myself whether genocide is the first step towards mass murder or has a kind of mass murder already taken place before we experience genocide and the mangled bodies? I propose to you that multiple killings have preceded the horrors with which we now live. Those killings prepared the ground for the literal burial of our own people.
Three killings in particular are as real as the carnage we see when suicide vests are detonated: the death of morality, the death of truth, and the death of reason. With such tragic exterminations, we now find ourselves in ever-present danger, constantly lectured to by those who have all the bodyguards they and their families need while the rest of us are sitting ducks for evil people whose rights are protected more than those of their slaughtered victims. Why is this happening? We are at war but not only with an enemy. We are at war within our own culture, and whether we will ever win over the enemy depends on whether we win this war within our own souls.
At first, how I connect these dots may seem far-fetched, but they are indeed connected. Some time ago Robert Shapiro, the well-known lawyer of the famed O.J. Simpson trial, was being interviewed by Megyn Kelly of Fox News. She asked if justice had been served in that case. In a mind-stupefying, pathetic answer, he said, “There is legal justice and moral justice. Legal justice was served.” Maybe it was rightly called the trial of the century: We have entered the twenty-first century having amputated law from morality. Welcome to the uncivil civilization legalizing murder. That an intelligent, educated, supposedly legal scholar can make a statement like that and think he has defended a noble cause is fatal to our culture. Maybe that’s why Shakespeare described Satan as “the prince of lawyers.” If that’s what legal theory espouses we are in great peril. I have no doubt many an honorable lawyer cringed at that response but probably none was shocked. This is where law has drifted and come unhinged from any moral moorings. When justice is decapitated and something can be legal but immoral, we know we have already killed the heart of what it means to be human. The morality of the beast is now normal. Is it any wonder that Nazi judges felt they were doing the “right thing” by upholding their legal prerogative that resulted in the death of millions? Our society is being dragged towards the morgue because the law has held the gun to the heart of morality.
Ironically, there was something in his response to be applauded. At least he granted there was such a thing as moral justice. So that leads to a deeper question: Should not Morality and Truth be inextricably bound together? That is at the heart of all judgments. What is the truth when a person is killed? But now, I dare say, not only does morality not matter, the truth doesn’t matter either. That has also been buried. If you want a snapshot of our times, here it is: Four brave Americans serving their country murdered by a bunch of hate-filled thugs, whose ideology we are not allowed to identify, received and presided over by a litany of lies, their bodies draped in the national flag, while assurance is given to the bereaved that the culprits will be hunted down, including the one because of whom they were killed. If that scenario doesn’t drive us to our knees, Lord have mercy!
We are in the graveyard of a culture when a most somber moment cannot compel the conscience to tell the truth. Oh, that the victims could have sat up for just a moment and stared down that heinous lie! But it was not to be. One day it will be so as their blood cries out from the ground. As Muggeridge said, “The lie is stuck like a fish bone in the throat of the handheld microphone…. Truth has died, not God.” The noble thing to have done when that blunder was made was to admit a failure for whatever reason and ask for pardon, but not to bury the dead with a lie! As if it is not dark enough for a handful to tell a lie, even worse, in our culture today the lie is no longer a posture to be shunned. We celebrate power over truth, enshrouding the lie with our flag. That is a form of national murder. You see, a blunder is a momentary reality. Upholding a lie is a character flaw, sending that lie into eternity.
The death of morality, the death of truth; then we come to the last, the death of reason. Aristotle reminded us that the first law of logic is identity. We must identify what we are talking about. A particular identifiable characteristic is indispensable to the referent. We must identify the characteristics of the thing we define. That is necessary to understanding the thing and to resisting contradiction. But as destroyers enter our lands and desire to pillage and kill, we are led by rhetoric that kills the first law of logic, the law of identity. We are told that identifying the enemy is not that important; strange that the same logic is not employed to all other local inimical ideologies but only seems to apply to Islam. Honest Muslims themselves wish to call it for what it is but our clever linguistic sleight of hand seems to restrict us from such identity—and so we bury our dead without identifying why the killer killed them. First, we try to mitigate our peril by this incredible new coinage, “radicalized,” that conveniently shifts the blame from the active shooter to the remote controller. Now we don’t even wish to identify what controls the remote controller. Propaganda that kills identity is deadly to the soul of a culture.
We are sliding into the future with evil stalking us but no morality, no truth, and no reason to guide us. America may be flirting with a self-inflicted mortal wound. Or it could well be a killing that is designed by a postmodern ideology masquerading as political correctness. When liberalism, whose legitimate child is relativism, has played itself out it will be a Pyrrhic victory to find ourselves in the hands of those whose identity is no longer in doubt. And when they are in control, the very means they used to hide their identity will be silenced as well. They will preside over the last rites of politically correct enforcers and a “free press” that abused freedom and celebrated the lie ‘til they themselves were silenced, buried by the truth they never wanted to expose.
There always has been, and is now more than ever, only one hope for rescue. If we abide in God’s truth revealed in his Son, then we shall know the truth and the truth will set us free. That is why I say again and again that we must dispense with our verbal arsenal that speaks only in terms of right and left. We have forgotten there is an up and a down. May God help us! We need His transforming power to change our thinking and to give us a hunger for what is true. True freedom is not in doing whatever we wish but in doing what we ought. That has been buried in America. And only one who knows the way out of the grave can give us a second chance to live: Jesus, the way, the truth, and the life that sets us free from within first, before we learn to deal with the lies around us.
As my prayer for this July 4th, I think of the great hymn by Isaac Watts prayed often in moments of drastic transition. I have added a fourth verse for our times.
Our God, our Help in ages past,
Our Hope for years to come,
Our Shelter from the stormy blast,
And our eternal Home!
Under the shadow of Thy throne
Thy saints have dwelt secure;
Sufficient is Thine arm alone,
And our defense is sure.
Before the hills in order stood
Or earth received her frame,
From everlasting Thou art God,
To endless years the same.
We need thee now as ne’er before,
We mourn the wisdom gone;
Transform our land forevermore—
Redemption through your Son.
Is God There?
Reflections on Exodus
At times in my life, I see evidence of God’s presence beyond any doubt. Passages of Scripture light up with meaning, and prayer flows easily. Worship brings me joy as I reflect on how palpably God keeps his hand over my circumstances. Walking with God seems tangible during these times, as if he is physically beside me, and my love overflows in easy obedience. But then there are times that it seems God has gone on vacation. The same passages of the Bible seem devoid of life; I trudge through prayer and push myself to worship. Why does God sometimes feel so distant?
When we look at the life of Israel, we find the same apparent ebb and flow of God’s presence that we feel in our own lives. The opening chapter of Exodus depicts God’s fulfillment of his promise to Abraham for numerous descendants—a nation grown large enough to incite Pharaoh to enslave them out of fear and vengeance (1:8–14). Distanced from the land and favor God had promised them, the Israelites must have struggled to understand their God. Why would he increase their numbers only to allow Pharaoh to drown their newborn boys in the Nile (1:22)? When would God deliver them?
Generations pass before God spares Moses and raises him up in Pharaoh’s own house. When Moses flees Egypt and wanders the plains of Midian, God reveals himself through a burning bush. He acts on behalf of Israel, manifesting his presence through miracles, plagues on Egypt, and the parting of the Red Sea. God leads Israel through the wilderness, as a pillar of cloud by day and a cloud of fire by night. His voice thunders from a mountain, his holiness overcoming the Israelites until they fear for their lives. Wanting to remain among his people, God commands them to construct a tabernacle, which serves as his dwelling place until the temple in Jerusalem is completed hundreds of years later. His presence among the Israelites is overwhelming.
Yet even with so many memories of his glory, the Israelites forget God’s nearness and care for them. With the Egyptians advancing on them before the Red Sea, they complain that Moses brought them out of Egypt only to die in the wilderness (14:11–12). After a three days’ walk, they find no water, their food stores run out, and they despair (15:22; 16:3). And while Moses spends 40 days and nights atop Mount Sinai, receiving instructions from Yahweh, the Israelites even build and worship a golden calf, attributing their deliverance from Egypt to a false god (32:1–6). At the first sign of hardship or confusion, the Israelites assume God has left them.
Although the Israelites doubt God’s presence throughout the book of Exodus, his protection and provision for them is obvious to us, since we have the whole story: God was near Israel at all times. His presence and care were constant, though the evidence seemed sparse from the perspective of the Israelites. Even when their babies were in danger, the writer of Exodus tells us that God honored the obedience of the Hebrew midwives who allowed the babies to live (1:20). He heard the people groaning under slavery, remembered his covenant, and took notice of Israel during their hardest years (2:23–25).
What about us? What truths do we hold to when God seems distant and far off? We know that God’s presence among humanity reached its fullest expression with the advent of Jesus. John’s Gospel states, “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us” (John 1:14). In Greek, the word for “dwelt” literally means “pitched his tent.” In Jesus, God came near—not just in a tent like he did in the tabernacle, but now in flesh. And today, rather than looking for God in pillars of cloud and fire, the Hly Spirit dwells in Christians who carry God’s presence with them. Although he often goes unperceived, that won’t always be the case. In John’s vision of the new heaven and new earth, he describes everything made new, and a loud voice from the throne proclaims, “He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them” (Rev 21:3, emphasis mine).
AUBRY SMITH
ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN BIBLE STUDY MAGAZINE NOV–DEC ‘14
BIBLICAL REFERENCES FROM ESV
Aubry Smith, “Is God There?,” in Moment with God: A Devotional on Every Biblical Book (ed. John D. Barry and Rebecca Van Noord; Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2014).
To view more of my images, Sutton Hoo, please click
"here" !
From deep in the achieves!
From the Achieves, reprocessed, using Photoshop CC 2020.
Sutton Hoo, near Woodbridge, in the English county of Suffolk, is the site of two 6th- and early 7th-century cemeteries. One contained an undisturbed ship burial, including a wealth of Anglo-Saxon artefacts of outstanding art-historical and archaeological significance, now held in the British Museum in London. Sutton Hoo is of primary importance to early medieval historians because it sheds light on a period of English history that is on the margin between myth, legend, and historical documentation. Use of the site culminated at a time when Rædwald, the ruler of the East Angles, held senior power among the English people and played a dynamic if ambiguous part in the establishment of Christian rulership in England; it is generally thought most likely that he is the person buried in the ship. The site has been vital in understanding the Anglo-Saxon Kingdom of East Anglia and the whole early Anglo-Saxon period. The ship-burial, probably dating from the early 7th century and excavated in 1939, is one of the most magnificent archaeological finds in England for its size and completeness, far-reaching connections, the quality and beauty of its contents, and the profound interest of the burial ritual itself. The initial excavation was privately sponsored by the landowner. When the significance of the find became apparent, national experts took over. Subsequent archaeological campaigns, particularly in the late 1960s and late 1980s, have explored the wider site and many other individual burials. The most significant artefacts from the ship-burial, displayed in the British Museum, are those found in the burial chamber, including a suite of metalwork dress fittings in gold and gems, a ceremonial helmet, shield and sword, a lyre, and many pieces of silver plate from Byzantium. The ship-burial has from the time of its discovery prompted comparisons with the world described in the heroic Old English poem Beowulf, which is set in southern Sweden. It is in that region, especially at Vendel, that close archaeological parallels to the ship-burial are found, both in its general form and in details of the military equipment contained in the burial. Although it is the ship-burial that commands the greatest attention from tourists, two separate cemeteries also have rich historical meaning because of their position in relation to the Deben estuary and the North Sea, and their relation to other sites in the immediate neighbourhood. Of the two grave fields found at Sutton Hoo, one (the "Sutton Hoo cemetery") had long been known to exist because it consists of a group of approximately 20 earthen burial mounds that rise slightly above the horizon of the hill-spur when viewed from the opposite bank. The other, called here the "new" burial ground, is situated on a second hill-spur close to the present Exhibition Hall, about 500 m upstream of the first. It was discovered and partially explored in 2000 during preliminary work for the construction of the hall. This also had burials under mounds, but was not known because these mounds had long since been flattened by agricultural activity. The site has a visitor's centre, with many original and replica artefacts and a reconstruction of the ship burial chamber, and the burial field can be toured in the summer months. There is evidence that Sutton Hoo was occupied during the Neolithic period, circa 3000 BCE, when woodland in the area was cleared by agriculturalists. They dug small pits that contained flint-tempered earthenware pots. Several pits were near to hollows where large trees had been uprooted: the Neolithic farmers may have associated the hollows with the pots. During the Bronze Age, when agricultural communities living in Britain were adopting the newly introduced technology of metalworking, timber-framed roundhouses were built at Sutton Hoo, with wattle and daub walling and thatched roofs. The best surviving example contained a ring of upright posts, up to 30 millimetres (1.2 in) in diameter, with one pair suggesting an entrance to the south-east. In the central hearth, a faience bead had been dropped. The farmers who dwelt in this house used decorated Beaker-style pottery, cultivated barley, oats, and wheat, and collected hazelnuts. They dug ditches that marked the surrounding grassland into sections, indicating land ownership. The acidic sandy soil eventually become leached and infertile, and it was likely that for this reason, the settlement was eventually abandoned, to be replaced in the Middle Bronze Age (1500-1000 BCE) by sheep or cattle, which were enclosed by wooden stakes. During the Iron Age, iron became the dominant form of metal used in the British Isles, replacing copper and bronze. In the Middle Iron Age (around 500 BCE), people living in the Sutton Hoo area grew crops again, dividing the land up into small enclosures now known as Celtic fields. The use of narrow trenches implies grape cultivation, whilst in other places, small pockets of dark soil indicate that big cabbages may have been grown. Such cultivation continued into the Romano-British period, from 43 to around 410. Life for the Britons remained unaffected by the arrival of the Romans. Several artefacts from this period, including a few fragments of pottery and a discarded fibula, have been found. As the peoples of Western Europe were encouraged by the Empire to maximise the use of land for growing crops, the area around Sutton Hoo suffered degradation and soil loss. It was eventually abandoned again and became overgrown.
Dibujo para una noche de solsticio(de invierno o de verano) con mis mejores deseos para todos.
I draw for a night of solstice (of winter or of summer) with my better desires for all.
The Ais were noted as the most important tribe of southeastern Florida, and they were probably responsible for the fact that the watercourse on which they dwelt came to be called Indian River.
Hernando de Escalante Fontaneda (c. 1536 – after 1575) wrote of a Biscayan named Pedro who had been held prisoner [by the] Ais, evidently during the sixteenth century, and spoke the Ais language fluently. Shortly after the Spaniards made their first establishments in the peninsula, a war broke out with the Ais, but peace was concluded in 1570. In 1597 Governor Mendez de Canço, who traveled along the entire east coast from the head of the Florida Keys to St. Augustine, reported that the Ais chief had more Indians under him than any other.
[Excerpts from Access Genealogy: Florida Indian Tribes. See also: "Ais Tribe of Florida" www.accessgenealogy.com/native/ais-tribe-of-florida.htm ]
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Apalachee
From at least A.D. 1000, a group of farming Indians was living in northwest Florida. They were called the Apalachees. Other Florida Indians regarded them as being wealthy and fierce. Some think the Apalachee language was related to Hitchiti of the Muskhogean language family. The Apalachees' territory extended from the Aucilla River in the east to the Ochlockonee River in the west.
[Excerpt from: Florida Center for Instructional Technology: The Apalachees of Northwest Florida.]
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Calusa
The Calusa Indians were originally called the "Calos" which means "Fierce People." They were descendants of Paleo-Indians who inhabited Southwest Florida approximately 12,000 years ago. During the Calusa's reign the Florida coastline extended roughly 60 miles further into the Gulf of Mexico. Hardwood forests covered the land and the climate was much colder than it is today. The Calusa inhabited a region abundant with bears, woolly mammoths, sloth, tortoises, and saber-toothed tigers. Hunting these animals and gathering roots and fruit that grew on trees was a mainstay until they discovered the waters contained a wealth of fish. This new food source required significantly less time than hunting and gathering their food, and allowed the Calusa time to establish their own system of government. Following this formation of a centralized government were the construction of a canal system, the beginnings of organized religion, and the creating of many art forms.
[Excerpt from: Absolutely Florida Websource: The Calusa Indians (The Shell People.)]
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Jeaga
The Jeaga (YAY•gah) inhabited present day Palm Beach County. Jonathan Dickson, who survived a shipwreck on the coast near Jeaga lands in 1698, described them as "fierce and bloody." The Jeaga depended on the sea for much of their food.
[Excerpt from: Florida Online, Social Studies, Glenco Online: People of Southeastern Florida. glencoe.com/sec/socialstudies/fcat/early_florida.html#peo... Read Jonathan Dickson's journal at www.archive.org/stream/godsprotectingpr00dick#page/n5/mod... ]
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Mayaimi
Along the lower Atlantic Coast was the home of many small tribes: the Tequestas of Biscayne Bay, the Ais and the Jeagas up the coast, the Keys Indians, and the Mayaimi who built large mounded villages near Lake Okeechobee. Like the Calusa, these tribes were fishermen and hunters rather than farmers.
[Excerpt from: FloridaHistory.org: Florida of the Indians.]
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Potano
The Potano tribe was anciently celebrated as, with one or two possible exceptions, the most powerful of all the Timucua peoples. Located in the territory of the present Alachua County.
[Excerpts from: Access Genealogy: Florida Indian Tribes.]
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Seminoles
Seminole history begins with bands of Creek Indians from Georgia and Alabama who migrated to Florida in the 1700s. Conflicts with Europeans and other tribes caused them to seek new lands to live in peace. Groups of Lower Creeks moved to Florida to get away from the dominance of Upper Creeks. Some Creeks were searching for rich, new fields to plant corn, beans, and other crops. For a while, Spain even encouraged these migrations to help provide a buffer between Florida and the British colonies. The 1770s is when Florida Indians collectively became known as Seminole, a name meaning "wild people" or "runaway."
[Excerpt from: Florida Department of State's Division of Resources' Seminole History Report.]
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Tequesta
The Tequesta were a small, peaceful, Native American tribe. They were one of the first tribes in South Florida and they settled near Biscayne Bay in the present-day Miami area. They built many villages at the mouth of the Miami River and along the coastal islands. Like the other tribes in South Florida, the Tequesta were hunters and gatherers.
Psalm 94:17 Unless the Lord had given me help, I would soon have dwelt in the silence of death.
Ps. 94:17 Ellei Herra olisi tullut avukseni, asuisin jo hiljaisuuden maassa.
I chose Triton. A merman, demigod of the sea; the son of the sea god, Poseidon, and Amphitrite. Triton dwelt with his parents in a golden palace in the depths of the sea. In pop culture, he was Disney's choice for Ariel's father, the Little Mermaid.
Poseidon's weapon was the trident, and Triton also carries one. But Triton had abilities that went beyond his father. He possessed a gnarled conch shell that could quiet the sea at his whim when he played it or bring it to a frenzy.
Like Triton's effect on the sea, my personality can calm and stabilize, or my sense of humor gets, well, let's say energized.
I can't say I've reached the frenzy point yet, but the competition is still young.
STYLING:
Conch Shell from Galli
Arm braces and trident by The Cove
Merman costume from MK, including all fins, waist and neck coral arrangements
Tattoos from Mermaid Collection Dark Sea
Zylith hair from Raven Bell
Swarit Shell Necklace from Zaara
Bad Things Spiked Claw nails by GD
Make up by Zibska
Poses from GA Wonderful Mermaid
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Symmetry
A plot in Motion
As excerpted from
“An Odyssey Less Taken “@
Tallie looked into the mirror as the bound Olivia stirred, a self-satisfied smirk lighting up her pretty face. It was time to administer the syringe containing the liquid that would render Olivia unconscious until late the next morning, giving them plenty of time. Olivia would wake thinking she had been the victim of a robbery. She should have no clue that the real reason was a simple piece of paper she had had tucked away inside her gold purse.
A couple of hours earlier:
Tallie had jogged into the upscale inn’s main lobby wearing a black running suite with her long,hair tucked up under a neoprene running cap. Playing the part of a guest who had gone out for exercise, she was also wearing thin gloves, wide wraparound sunglasses, small backpack and listening to music on her I Phone. She took up station in a corner of the inns’ huge lobby, like she was resting, while listening to her music. Ten minutes later, Olivia, whom Tallie had been shadowing, came in. Olivia had been easy to follow. An eye catching figure clad in a gold silk dress and pearls. She was carrying a shiny gold purse, and holding a bag containing a deep purple satin gown. Olivia had headed straight to the elevator, tapped her floor button and disappeared inside.
Tallie spent an uncomfortably anxious 10 minutes deciding what to do. Olivia had not gone to the front desk to take her jewels from the safe. Although her jewelry was not a main part of the plan, Tallie had loftier goals in mind, they did present a rather profitable bonus. Tallie decided to proceed, not wanting to blow the whole operation for a few pretty baubles. She had just risen when the elevator tinged. The doors opened, and Olivia exited into the lobby, still clad in the gold silk, and headed to the desk. There, she had the manager retrieve a black case. Showtime Tallie thought, relieved now that she had waited, watching as Olivia once again left in the elevator. Ten minutes after that, it was time to put the plan in motion. Using her I Phone, Tallie rang Olivia’s room pretending to be a hotel employee. “Someone had found something of yours in the lobby; a manager is on her way up with it.” She hung up not giving Olivia any chance for response.
From then, it had gone like clockwork. Tallie, with delight, watched the shocked look on Olivia’s face when she opened the door expecting a female hotel manager, but instead came face to face with a Taser wielding double of herself, Tallie! Firing the Taser, the shocked girl slumped into Tallies’ welcome arms. Kicking the door shut, Tallie pulled Olivia into the bathroom, where she was then bound and gagged. To make it look like a robbery, Tallie stripped Olivia of her pearl necklace, earrings, bracelets and rings. Then she quickly looted the apartment of any other small, but valuable items. Placing these items, along with the small backpack, into a leather clutch. Tallie then went to the dresser top and opened the black case sitting there. She whistled to herself as she savored the shiny contents. Looking them over, she made a selection, then poured the remaining jewelry into the clutch, glittering explosive fire as they went. She placed the selected diamond jewelry on the bathroom sink. Tallie found Olivia’s gold purse and opened it and pulled the ticket out. Studying, with eager eyes, the prize they had worked so hard to obtain. The small ticket was the key to the whole plot, worth potentially millions.
Carrying the purse to the bathroom, Tallie started to get ready. De bagging Olivia’s purple gown, she slipped it on. It poured over her curvy figure perfectly, as they had known it would. Tallie had switched her calfskin gloves for a pair of Olivia’s satin ones. It was as she had been putting on Olivia’s glittering diamonds that the tied up girl started to stir. Walking over to the groggy eyed girl, Tallie pretended to fumble with the ropes knots, and administered the hypo containing the knockout drops. After checking the heavily sedated Olivia’s Pulse, Tallie finished putting on the unlucky girls jewels.
Tallie admired herself in the mirror, almost not recognizing herself. She had dyed her midnight black hair blonde to match Olivia‘s and had put in blue tinted contacts. The clingy gown fitted snugly in all the right places, tightly outlining her perky breasts and nicely rounded butt. Very nice, thought Tallie beaming. After putting on Olivia’s stiletto heels, Tallie pronounced herself ready. Picking up the purse, she patted it for luck, and went into the bedroom. Tallie called the front desk, asking to have a limo called to pick her up out front, then she also ordered a wakeup call with breakfast for eleven o’clock the next morning. Hanging up the phone, Tallie still had 12 minutes left to kill. She spent it retracing her steps around the entire apartment making sure nothing had been overlooked, and then double checked that Olivia was going to stay out of the picture. When her time was up, Tallie snatched the clutch up from the satin covers of the bed, heavy now with Olivia’s valuables and her running suit and backpack. Tallie left the apartment, closing the door after hanging a do not disturb sign on the lever. Tallie entered the empty elevator , pushed the down button, and focused on the task at hand.
Finally, after seemingly endless months of careful plotting, preparation, rehearsals and dry runs. It was time. The whole scheme had been planned to the minutest detail, it had to be. The main prize was the tens of millions of dollars’ worth of jewels worn by the female guests attending the annual formal Casino Night by the Bay Ball. The annual black tie ball was a Republican Political Fundraiser by special invitation only and Olivia, who had been carefully selected and shadowed for weeks now, had been one of the lucky ticket holders. As a final coup de grâce , Tallie would attend the ball wearing Olivia’s luxurious gown and her brilliantly expensive diamonds, fitting right in with the other attendees. Security would be checking ID’s at the door. But Tallie now resembled Olivia almost to a T. She would fool those rent a cops easily as they checked her against Olivia‘s driver’s license for identification, bending over and showing a little bosom for added distraction. Tallie couldn’t wait to mingle and rub elbows with the galas ultra-rich patrons. She would mark her time by mingling and endearing herself to as many of the male guests as possible in the short time allotted to her. She would use her rich welsh brogue to the fullest to win over the posh male Yanks. All the while admiring the shiny gowns and scoping out the shimmering jewels that would be adorning her fellow female guests. Those jewels would include the Dahlkemper pearls, the Caboyt diamonds with the brilliant sapphires that placed the “Hope Diamond” to shame, and, of course, the famous matching waterfall diamond sets the Dempsey Twins would be wearing (Not to mention their Mother’s emeralds and rubies) . The sets, which had been presented as gifts at the twins ultra- fancy coning out ball, were insured for over 1 million dollars by the girls parents.
Then at the appointed hour, Tallie would slip away to a seldom used back stage door, conveniently hidden neath a stairwell. Security would not have this door covered. It was there that Tallies’ husband and his troupe of fellow masked thieves would be waiting to make their entrance. If all went to plan and it would, she was sure of that, they would proceed to hold up and rob all the guests. Relieving the lot of their fat designer purses, thick leather wallets, gold Rolexes, and of course, their jewels, Lots and lots of shimmering, pricy jewelry. Not to mention the piles of loose cash lying on the gambling tables begging to be collected. Tallie’s heart beat faster at the enticing visions.
After the last guest had been relieved of their valuables, Tallie’s next part of the plot would come. This was where Tallie’s experience as an actress would pay off. The thieves would grab an innocent hostage (Tallie) by knifepoint Then, while threatening the life of the frightened squirming hostage, order the rest of the guests to strip off their clothing. If Tallie had played her part well, mingling and playing the doe eyed innocent who reminded those she met as someone who they would love to protect, her fellow guests would not want to see her harmed and be obedient to the robbers threats, not wishing any harm to come to her. The guests would be threatened to not to try anything for the next hour, or they would eliminate their hostage. The gang would then leave with their loot, as well as their hapless hostage. Then they would make, what in Tallie’s opinion, was a rather brilliantly orchestrated get away.
This was not the first time out for Tallie and her husband’s team, but it promised to be their last. The gang had been operating in Europe and Latin America, seeking out small, but lucrative, gatherings of the privileged and ultra-wealthy. They had gotten quite adept, fine tuning a formula that successfully paid attention to even the minutest detail.
Tallie loved playing the part of the inside victim. Getting as close as possible to the female guests (usually by flirting with husbands and boyfriends) to get a close appraisal of their jewels. Then, after letting her husband and crew loose, observing the well-dressed guests being herded to line up along the wall with raised hands. Usually creating a colorful array of swishing lace, satin, silk , velvety gowns and dresses, all flowing along forlorn figures. It was a thrill to watch their facial and body expressions and reactions. Especially of the women and girls present, as they were forced to hand over their flashy gemstones, their Shiny gold and silver, opulent pearls and other assorted fine jewelry were handed over reluctantly from about their persons.
Then would come the part that really aroused Tallie. The thieves would reach her and tell her to “fork over the jewels miss,” and depending on her mood, would do so, either acting defiant and forcing them to take them off her, or frightened(especially if the thief was her husband) , and timidly handing them over. She would be squirming inside with a deep, delicious delight as she took off , or had the thief wrench off, each precious piece. It was a reaction she did not fully understand, but just knew and accepted it as a scintillating feeling. Tallie, shivered, licking her lips at past memories of being a robbery “victim”.
The band had no qualms about was fair game, boldly invading Weddings, Receptions, Fancy dress dances and even the upscale prom or mansion party. All had been meticulously planned, all had been very lucrative. Their last raid had been carried out on a coming out party for an English Earl/ Minister and his titled wife’s only daughter. It had occurred at the minister’s isolated country manor located deep in the moors. Where, in addition to the jewels worn by the guests that ill-fated Saturday evening, the manor’s many bedroom safes yielded a dazzling array of cases of unworn jewelry brought by the guests for the four day weekend.
Tallie fondly remembered that raid. She had gained access to the family by going as the guest of a rather vain bachelor she had “happened to make an acquaintance with,” in London. The dinner gatherings and nightly parties that had led up to the night of the debutante’s ball had been all over the top, as only very old money can pull off. Tallie had almost suffered a system overload by observing the bounty of rich offerings at her fingertips. Beckoning jewels so very close, and as of yet, so very far. The Saturday evening ball could not have come soon enough. But come it did, and the minister’s daughter did not disappoint, nor did her mother or any other of their female guests. The young debutante had made her grand entrance in a long slinky blood red gown and matching gloves. Among the child’s perfect jewels was included an authentic family heirloom tiara, dripping with pristine diamonds, holding up the wavy curls of her silky fawn hair.
Tallies mouth had watered as she kept stealing looks, keeping her eyes glued to the precocious miss all evening. She inwardly was squirming with anticipation, up until the delightful moment when the begowned debutante limply removed and handed over the tiara, along with the rest of her gleaming diamonds and pearls to one of the gang of masked robbers who had had the “audacity “ to crash the party..
Now, Tallie was traditionally allowed to keep one piece of jewelry from the loot taken from each job as part of her take if she so desired. She always enjoyed picking out pieces she would like to have as she mingled with her fellow guests before her husband’s gang charged in. In the coming out party it had been the sad puppy faced debutante‘s cascading diamond earrings that Tallie had claimed for her own from the minute she first saw them dangling from the pretty girl’s delicate ears. Tallie had subsequently worn and been “robbed” of those earrings several times on jobs since then.
After the Manor house’s guests had been relieved of their valuables, the gang had made its getaway, seemingly vanishing into the moors misty air. The mechanics of that escape would form the basis of their getaway attempt after this evening’s robbery of the wealthy guests attending the “By the Bay Ball” Actually the symmetry of the two events did not stop there. The profit realized by the take from the Earl’s family and guests had given the gang the seed money for the enormous expense in planning tonight’s complex raid. And tonight’s successful raid on the ball, appropriately enough, its diamond jubilee, would be splashed over all of the countries newspapers, like the Manor raid had been. And like after the Manor raid, Tallie and her husband would be reading those papers in the safty of their isolated island retreat.
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As Tallie dwelt on that remembrance, the elevator completed its long, uninterrupted journey by tinging its 1st floor arrival. Showtime! Tallie thought with wry amusement as she stepped into the now crowded lobby. Tonight would be more of the same tingling robbery experiences, only ten times better and since it may very well be her last time , Tallie was going to savor every delicious minute.
Tallie left the elevator and moved quickly towards the sitting area she had occupied when watching for Olivia to come in. In one of the chairs sat a young man wearing wraparound sunglasses reading a blue covered novel. She swished by him, allowing her satin clad leg to brush along his. She watched with enticement as he straightened, uncomfortably, in his chair, his reaction to her teasing pleasing her immensely . Going around him, she placed her clutch on the chair behind him before turning and primping herself in front of one of the long mirrored walls that lined the sitting area. Seeing that no one as of yet was looking her way, she smiled to herself and swished her way back into the main lobby, leaving behind her clutch. She again passed the young man, who, even with the sunglasses, bore a striking resemblance to a young Sidney Poitier! No signal passed between them. The blue novel meant everything was going as planned, a red novel would have meant danger. The clutch on the chair behind him signaled the young man she had teased, Jessie by name , that everything was a go on Tallies end. After she left, Jessie would retrieve the clutch and rejoin Tallies husband and the rest of his gang.
With the prearranged signals exchanged, Tallie happily made her way to the fancy Glass doors where a uniformed Doorman was opening for arriving and departing guests. She could feel more than one pair of jealous eyes following her as she weaved her way through the crowd, her long gown swishing deliciously along her pretty figure. The pretty blond in the purple satin and shimmering diamonds was soon lost to sight, as she exited the doors to the misty street below. Those watching her were totally oblivious that the pretty blonde passing them was setting into motion the complex wheels of a rather ingenious scheme. Meanwhile in a ballroom some miles away a large group of extremely well dressed and decked out guests attending a certain excessively extravagant Ball , were innocently mingling, jewels sparkled with a frenzied riot of colours! These heavily gem encrusted guests were also totally oblivious as to what fate had in store for them in a few hours.
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@ Chatwick University extends its compliments to the unknown artist whose worthy photo and captivating title proved to be the spark that ignited the genesis of our Tallies Odyssey….
DISCLAIMER
All rights and copyrights observed by Chatwick University, Its contributors, associates and Agents
The purpose of these chronological photos and accompanying stories, articles is to educate, teach, instruct, and generally increase the awareness level of the general public as to the nature and intent of the underlying criminal elements that have historically plagued humankind.
No Part of this can reprinted, duplicated, or copied be without the express written permission and approval of Chatwick University.
These photos and stories are works of fiction. Any resemblance to people, living or deceased, is purely coincidental.
As with any work of fiction or fantasy the purpose is for entertainment and/or educational purposes only, and should never be attempted in real life.
We accept no responsibility for any events occurring outside this website.
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Isaiah 9:2
The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light:
they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined.
Budapest, Máriaremete Church
Commemoration of All the Faithful Departed.
Resquiescat in pacem.
Máriaremetei templom, Mindenszentekkor.
---------------------------
[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in]
By E. E. Cummings
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
------------------------
Kosztolányi Dezső: Funeral oration
Behold O brethren, quick he was but quick
he died and left us. This was a poor trick.
We knew him well, nor great nor excellent,
his heart like ours, with our hearts competent.
No more of him
but ashes to ashes.
The roof falls and crushes
the rich store of him.
Profit all of you by his example.
This is what man is like, a singular sample.
No copy existed before, nor does one at present.
As on a living branch each leaf is different
so time itself will breed no simulacrum.
Examine his head; the stark ruin
of his dear eyes. Look, here is his fist
enveloped in impenetrable mist,
stony, metallic
as a relic,
and his palm marked out in cuneiform which speaks
of private modes of life, which were his and were unique.
Whoever he was, whatever heat or dim
light he was known by, recognized by–was him.
Whatever he favoured: one or other meal,
or uttered through lips which now retain the seal
of silence; however his voice made a low commotion
in our ears, like bells under the ocean,
old parish bells; however he murmured, “Please
pass me the plate, I’m hungry for some cheese,”
or drank his wine, or gazed contented at
the cheap smoke rising from his cigarette,
or ran his errands, used the telephone,
wove dreams out of his threaded polychrome
existence: the sign upon his brow would tell you in
a twinkling – Behold him, ecce homo, the One-in-a-Million.
Seek him in neglected or forgotten spots,
among the Esquimaux or Hottentots,
in vain; the past is vain and the vast future
where anyone might be born save him, poor creature.
Ah, never more
will his face light up with that faint smile. Too poor
outrageous fortune, to take a second run
at the miracle which was him alone.
Dearly beloved, is he not like the man
in the fairy tale, which like all tales began
with “Once upon a time there dwelt…”?
Life turned its thought to him, and we but felt
the story starting when, Lords, he was struck down,
the heavens fell upon him and “dwelt” had lost its noun,
the subject of our tears and tales. Extent
he lies who strove for high intent,
his own benumbed, unspeaking monument.
No tears can wake him now, no words, nor herbs or fungus,
who once upon a time dwelt here among us.
troybooks.co.uk/a-witch's-natural-history.html
CHAPTER 7:
'ADDER'S FORK AND BLIND-WORM'S STING': THE MAGICAL REPTILE
It was one of those romantic and magical moments which, as one discovers later, it is impossible quite to replicate – but fear not. The cliché will have been subverted by the end of this paragraph. We had spent a blissful, mutually indulgent weekend in a thatched coaching inn, somewhere near to the heart of the Cotswolds. It was sunny beyond expectation, so we walked to the next village, admiring the crazy-eyed chickens which stood, cock-headed on a stone wall, as though expecting something importune, like the hatching of a Cockatrice. We poked around the church, shadowed at every window by suitably pagan yews, and then walked on by some bucolic alley which promised nothing in particular – only an idyll. At one side of it there was a stream, and at the other, another of those Cotswold walls, embedded in an earthen bank. The path led to an archetypal cottage of rough-hewn stone; wicker archways and roses in the garden. Ivy thrust wormlike roots through the crevices in the stone wall, creating dappled arbours suitable for those who dwelt within. This first warm day of spring, they were sluggish, absorbing the rays of the low sun, slow moving with a constant hiss, sliding viscerally through gaps in the stones. There was only one way to approach them: bare-footed, respectful, with wonder, and not fear. The adjoining stream was evidently their larder: here, frogs would conglomerate to mate, oozing frogspawn. The grass snakes would catch them by their toes, and gulp them down alive, so that the croak could still be heard within the gaping gullets. The struggle would continue awhile, within their guts. Later in the year, the grass snakes would feast on tadpoles, diving in the bubbling gushes, and gobbling them on lush grass. Their skins grown old, they would slide through twigs to slough them, their eyes glazed. The snakes live there to this day. We go back to see them sometimes, just for the sake of it.
You may have had any of a number of reactions to the paragraph above. It may have incited fear or disgust; if so, I pity you, and there is little more to be said. Indeed, I am surprised you started reading at all. Or perhaps you will opt for the Freudian interpretation: snakes have no limbs, and the more advanced species do not even possess pelvic girdles – hence they are phallic. Watson wasn’t being romantic at all – he was blinded by his lust, which he was hoping to satisfy behind the hedgerow around the corner. I fear that Freudians are secularised Christians who see a serpent coiled around every tree, and the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil is filled with semen. This is to oversimplify snakes, just as it is to over-exaggerate the difference between eros and agape. The real reason why snakes are intensely romantic creatures for me is that they are entwined with my past; my memories, including the one I have just recalled are all lovingly wrapped in serpentine coils.
Growing up in south-eastern Australia, my first encounters with snakes were characterised by one emotion alone: awe. The first snake I remember encountering (I might have been five) was a red-bellied black snake swimming across a pond. As it emerged, my father turned it gently with his walking stick, and the scales on the underside were like a streak of undulating blood in the tussocky grass. It was not stupendously venomous by Australian standards, but well enough equipped to kill a small child. I remember when an expert herpetologist visited our school, commanding our obedient silence as he milked a sinuous taipan, its venom drooling into a plastic phial as he pinched it behind the jaw. It produces more venom than any other snake in the world; enough to make any health and safety legislator blue in the face. My first death adder was encountered on the road to Forbes, the town in the semi-arid zone of New South Wales which was the centre for the daring exploits of the bushranger Ben Hall – a man who must have met innumerable snakes before his life terminated at the end of a rope. It lay flaccid at the side of the road, seemingly too fat to form coils, and too torpid to move as I crouched to photograph it, half camouflaged against the rust-red earth. The poison glands in its head could have killed ten children of my body mass, and then could have killed ten more, as fast as a man can moisten his mouth after he has spat himself dry. And then there was that delicious moment when I was a teenage volunteer at the R.S.P.C.A, and a worried-looking family brought something bulging like blancmange inside a pillow case. I took one look inside, let out a shout of triumph, and delved within, my arms entwined with loving twists of diamond python. Once, years later, I was wearing him around my neck when I answered the door to some Jehovah’s Witnesses: a more effective repellent of intinerant evangelists has never been discovered.
Britain has three snake species, and among these, only one is venomous, albeit comparatively mildly so. In common with that of rattlesnakes and other forms of viper, Adder venom is primarily a haemotoxin, attacking the red blood cells and causing haemorrhage, in contrast to the neurotoxic venom of elapid snakes. Adder bites rarely cause human deaths unless they have not bitten for some time, or unless the victim is already infirm, or very young, but these have been enough to gain the snake both notoriety and folkloric significance. Thomas Hardy’s Return of the Native incidentally records much of this folklore when Clym Yeobright finds his mother lying in the furze with an injured foot: “It was swollen and red. Even as they watched, the red began to assume a more livid colour, in the midst of which appeared a scarlet speck, smaller than a pea, which was found to consist of a drop of blood, which rose above the smooth flesh of her ankle in a hemisphere.” The immediate diagnosis, “She has been stung by an adder”, reflects the old country belief that the adder “stings” with its tongue. An adder’s fangs hinge backwards when not in use, and so are not immediately obvious in dead specimens, so that the “adder’s fork” used by the witches in Macbeth was long considered to be the origin of the poison. (Oddly, the Adder’s tongue fern, which was considered efficacious in the treatment of snakebites, is not forked at all, and the “blind worm” or slow worm, whose “sting” they also throw into the cauldron, is in fact a harmless, legless lizard.) Yeobright’s acquaintance Sam tells him, “There is only one way to cure it. You must rub the place with the fat of other adders, and the only way to get that is by frying them.” Sam accordingly goes out with his lantern, and returns with three adders hanging from his walking stick. Two of them are already dead, for – tellingly – he has killed them earlier that day whilst at work furze-cutting, and the third is still alive, for the fat is, apparently, only efficacious when fried from an adder which has just been killed. However, Sam is well-versed in adder lore, for he knows that the fat of the dead ones may still be potent: “as they don’t die till the sun goes down they can’t be very stale meat”. The assumption that adders cannot die until sunset is no doubt a reflection of the snake’s resilience, for a mortally wounded adder will often writhe and make its escape, dying some hours later. Another onlooker at Mrs Yeobright’s bedside, Christian Cantle, thinks that the serpent of the Garden of Eden lives on in the adder, and cries, “Look at his eye – for all the world like a villainous sort of black currant. ‘Tis to be hoped he can’t ill wish us! There’s folks on the heath who’ve been overlooked already. I will never kill another adder as long as I live.” In fact, whilst the grass snake and the smooth snake both have rounded pupils in their eyes, the adder’s pupils are elliptical, narrowing to slits in bright light. Elliptical pupils are normally characteristic of nocturnal creatures such as cats and geckoes, and therefore perhaps more suggestive of the Evil Eye. The three adders are duly chopped and fried, and their fat used to anoint the wound. When the doctor arrives, he affirms that the remedy is recommended by the medical experts, “Hoffman, Mead, and I think the Abbé Fontana”, but Mrs Yeobright dies in any case, the poor adder being deemed only partially responsible. Modern adder bites are treated with antihistamines and blood transfusions, although the affected area may also be treated with witch hazel – an update, perhaps, on the viper’s bugloss treatment recommended by Dioscorides in the first century.
Other aspects of adder-lore are similarly attributable to the doctrine of signatures: if an adder is poisonous, it must also be medically efficacious. Thus the shed skins of adders are sometimes tied around the forehead to relieve headaches. Further aspects of the folklore are probably inspired by flawed observation. Country folk have often maintained that baby adders will climb into their mother’s mouth and hide in her stomach when threatened. As adders bear their young alive, being ovo-viviparous, it is possible that this myth arose when heavily gravid females were killed and cut open to reveal the living young inside. Female adders do also form protective associations with their young, and it has been suggested that the disappearance of the young into the mother’s mouth is merely an optical illusion: they are in fact crawling underneath her belly and hiding themselves there whilst the mother’s mouth is open in self-defence.
An even older myth concerning the live-bearing adder was first recorded by Herodotus, and survived in a variety of forms into the medieval bestiaries: in the act of mating, the female was supposed to bite off the male’s head, only to be repaid in kind by her young, who eat their way out of her body, killing her. According to Pliny the coveted adder-stone of the druids was supposedly obtained when adders congregated and joined their heads together, and somehow extruded the stone encased in bubbles of froth. Adders do indeed meet and join their heads together; the beautiful “dance” of the adders is in fact a ritualised combat between two males for the possession of a mate, but the snakes do not froth at the mouth. Perhaps the dance of the adders was once observed on a coastal heath, and the cluster of bubbles was a whelk’s egg case which chanced to be blown there by the wind – a likely candidate, given that Pliny described the end result as pock-marked and cartilaginous. Another congregation of adders occurs when they entwine themselves together in clumps in order to hibernate. They sometimes remain intertwined when they emerge in spring, making them easy targets for the butt of a gamekeeper’s gun: perhaps this, too, gave rise to the idea that the snakes congregated in order to produce the adder-stone.
More difficult to explain is the insistence that adders can kill airborne skylarks by spitting at them and causing them to plummet to the ground; this, one fears, is an example of folklore inspired by pure malice. Never mind. The adder got his own back on human beings long ago, when he caused the battle of Camlann. Both Arthur and Mordred told their men not to charge unless a sword was drawn by the opposing side, but “Ryght so cam out an addir of a lytyll hethe-buysshe, and hit stange a knight in the foote. And so whan the knyght felte hym so stonge, he loked downe and saw the addir; and anone he drew his swerde to sle the addir, and thought none other harme.” The rest, of course, is history, or something very like it, and we leave Arthur and Mordred to assail each other with stings of their own. It was not, in any case, the adder’s first experience of battle. Hannibal had appreciated the martial potential of venomous snakes long before, and his method was absurdly simple: imprison them en-masse in earthenware jars, shake them up a bit, and throw them at the Romans.
The modern fear of snakes is a degenerate form of the awe with which they were once regarded: an awe which is admirably communicated in D.H. Lawrence’s poem, ‘Snake’, in which the serpent is recognised as “one of the lords/ Of life.” One of the adder’s greatest defenders, W.H. Hudson, suggested that the Judeo-Christian hatred of snakes was a reaction against polytheistic religions which invariably regarded them as sacred. The adder itself was a living mystical sigil, a writhing wyrm whose markings suggest written characters or ogham script. Occasionally one finds an adder whose underside is as plainly marked as the zigzag-patterned dorsal side, and it is said that these markings form the words: “If I could hear as well as see/ No man of life would master me”. Snake-handling goddesses are regarded with awe the world over, from the Babylonian Lamashtu, through the Aztec Coatlicue (Lady of the Skirt of Serpents) to the Hindu triple goddess Kali, whose hair was composed of snakes, like that of the Gorgon Medusa. Isis began her career as a snake-goddess – a cobra goddess to be precise – and her most eloquent convert, Apuleius, describes her rising out of the sea with the moon hanging above her forehead, and “Vipers arising from the left-hand and right-hand partings of her hair supported this disc”. Hecate carried two snakes, one symbolising healing, and the other sickness and death; perhaps it is her image – or one of her priestesses - that we see in the beautiful Cretan figurine of a woman, bare-breasted in a fashionable bodice and layered skirt, who holds two snakes in her upraised hands. According to Seneca, the much-maligned Medea, another beautiful priestess of Hecate, also bared her breasts and tossed her hair when she handled snakes, and in order to make her potion, which could either heal or kill, she evoked “everything snakelike”. It is a pity that her memory has been besmirched by Appolonius of Rhodes, who made her betray her people and the serpent-guardian of the golden fleece to that brazen pirate Jason, and by Euripides, who made her murder her own children in revenge for his subsequent faithlessness. Awe of venomous snakes, combined with a reckless handling of them, was characteristic of the Bacchic and Orphic mysteries immortalised by the murals of Pompeii; indeed, Orpheus’s descent into Hades was an attempt to retrieve his beloved, who had been killed by snakebite. Combat with snakes is also invariably imbued with religious significance: the lamentable ophidiophobia of St. George the dragon-slayer, and St. Patrick, who allegedly drove all of the snakes out of Ireland, has a more spiritually significant pedigree in the battle between Apollo and Python, and Thor’s wrestlings with the Midgard Serpent – conflicts which perhaps represent the overthrow of female deities by male ones. Even Moses was not averse to a bit of snake shamanism, for it was he who erected the brazen serpent, and following his example, Christian sects such as the Gnostics and the Ophists have depicted Christ crucified as a snake, and consecrated the Eucharist with live serpents. It comes as no surprise that they were soon condemned as heretical, although the caduceus, a serpent entwined around a staff associated with Asclepius, the god of healing, remains to this day a symbol of medicine. Asclepius himself carried two phials of blood from the gorgon Medusa: one to kill, and the other to resurrect – a pagan eucharist indeed.
Perhaps the most beautiful and most subtly erotic snake-myth of all is the story of Cadmus, described in Ovid’s Metamorphoses. Cadmus once killed a gigantic serpent, and raised an army by sowing its teeth into the soil. Now, he has grown old, and wonders whether the gods are annoyed with him: “If this is what the gods are angry over, may I become a serpent, with a body stretched full-length forward.” The words have barely left his lips before he begins to transform. His legs are the first to disappear, and whilst he still possesses arms, he urgently embraces his wife. In her desperation, she pleads with the gods to transform her too, whilst Cadmus, now thoroughly ophidian, glides silkily between her breasts and entwines his body about her neck. She reaches to stroke her serpent husband’s scaly skin, and as she does so, she too is transformed, and they make for the woods before the horrified onlookers can beat their brains out or use their vital organs as ancient equivalents to Viagra. Touchingly, Cadmus and is wife are non-venomous; they are indeed “most gentle serpents” who never harm human beings. Perhaps they are pythons, retaining their vestigial pelvic girdles where their legs used to join their bodies. Would that all human beings were given the choice between advancing senility and an eternity as a loving serpent; I know which I would choose. Cleopatra must have been groping towards the same conclusion when she grasped the asp.
In any case, it is the snake’s own physiology which is the source of the religious awe it inspires. Anyone who has ever handled a snake knows that it is a creature of exceeding grace and dignity: its scales are smooth as polished jewels, and its undulating mode of locomotion is reminiscent of the movement of flowing water. This fluidity has made it the embodiment of a creator spirit. Even the spirit of Elohim, the creator in the book of Genesis, is first envisaged as moving on the face of the waters, as only a snake can do – an insight which was clearly understood by William Blake when he created his image of a serpent-bodied ‘Elohim Creating Adam’. Snakes can dislocate their jaws at will, enabling them to swallow prey which seems impossibly large: a creature which can engulf lesser beings in this way (anacondas have been known to swallow grown men), is bound to be regarded with awe. Snake venom is not only lethal; it also has psycho-active properties, although the reader is advised not to try this at home. It is amazingly durable: a stuffed snake is as venomous as a live one. Male snakes have a double penis, just like the devil, and female snakes have a paired clitoris – a notion which opens up all sorts of possibilities. A snake discards its skin when it has grown old; it even becomes blind and doddering like a geriatric when the scale which covers the eyeball turns opaque immediately prior to sloughing. It is therefore a metaphor for death and resurrection. When a snake strikes, it often does so with a speed undetectable to the human eye, so it is imbued with mystical power. If one approaches it in the right way, one may handle an adder without retribution – they have indeed been kept as pets by stalwart individuals – but one false move precipitates the lightning strike. Thus snakes are capricious, like the gods. Oviparous snakes like the grass snake, whose young do not hatch in the process of parturition, lay leathern eggs, and there is something mystical about these too; perhaps they, and not the whelk’s egg-case, are in fact the ovum anguinis of the druids.
Anguis is not, however, the generic name of a snake, but of the lowly slow-worm: not a venomous snake, but a legless lizard. Formerly, it was known as a blind-worm, presumably because its eyes, which have closable lids, are relatively smaller than those of snakes. It is quite harmless, and as its name suggests, rather sluggish in comparison to an adder or smooth snake energised by the sun. Its English relatives, the viviparous and sand lizards, are equally benign, and indeed frequently fall prey to our snakes. It is perhaps more difficult to ascribe magical significance to the Squamata, but the Romans seem to have done so, for they sculpted mystical hands out of bronze, with toads, snakes, tortoises and lizards crawling up towards the fingertips. No one knows their significance; perhaps they were fertility or healing charms, or wards against the evil eye. It is noteworthy, perhaps, that all of the animals depicted are cold blooded – but beyond that there is little to be said, save that the hands are clearly objects of power.
On the whole, however, if the snake’s biology makes it a likely metaphor for the divine, lizards are clearly earthy and mortal. With some notable warm-weather exceptions, they are not venomous; nor can they dislocate their jaws. They change their skins as snakes do, but slough them in flakes and ribbons rather than slipping them off like gloves. To the uninitiated, they seem altogether prosaic, but any inquisitive crow will tell you a different story. If you would capture a lizard, you must seize it by the head or the body. Grasp it by the tail, and the entire appendage will detach itself by splitting down the middle of one of the vertebrae, whilst the frenzied animal makes its escape through the undergrowth. More perplexing still, the severed tail will continue to undulate and squirm after it has been severed from the spinal column, as energised and frantic as one of Galvin’s frog-legs probed with an electrode. Your quarry is safe, and will soon grow a false tail – albeit one without vertebrae – and you have nothing to show for your pains but this threshing bit of scale and bone and gristle. In short, all of the English reptiles are object-lessons for the witch: the grass snake and the smooth snake are her images of occult beauty and erotic power; the adder is her psychopomp and her defense; but the lizard is her most practical guide of all, for he will provide her means of escape should the witch-finder seize her by the tail.
Near Death Valley at the Ash Meadows National Wildlife Refuge. The water here was SO tempting. I wanted to skinny-dip in a bad way, but I restrained my impulses. There are signs pleading with visitors to refrain from wading or swimming--not because (or at least, not entirely) they are against people having a good time, but rather so that the rare species that inhabit the waters here wouldn't be adversely affected. As I've noted in a few other photos I've uploaded of the place, there are several species that exist here and in no other spot on earth. In my mind, that, along with the beauty to found here, make this a national and even world-wide treasure.
The spring-fed pools here (just a few miles east of Death Valley National Park) are crystal clear and non-alkaline, i.e., potable--which must have made this place a god-send for early travelers and the Native Americans who dwelt in the area before the advent of the Spanish.
Now, I wish I'd shot this as a pano--i.e., taken two more shots covering the ground on either side of this one, capturing the entire pool and more of its surroundings.
The altar of the ancient Church of St. Oswald's, in the village of Thornton Steward
Wensleydale, North Yorkshire, UK
"Recorded in the Domesday Book and believed to be the oldest church in Wensleydale, this has been a place of Christian worship since the days of King Edwin, centuries before the Norman Conquest. Cross heads and 9th century stones can be seen. Some scholars claim it is Anglo-Saxon but it is generally believed the existing building is mostly Norman on Saxon foundations and was built by Alan, first Earl of Richmond and nephew of William the Conqueror, whose steward dwelt in this village. Hence the name Thornton Steward". (their website)
©SWJuk (2019)
All rights reserved
Symmetry
A plot in Motion
As excerpted from
“An Odyssey Less Taken “@
Tallie looked into the mirror as the bound Olivia stirred, a self-satisfied smirk lighting up her pretty face. It was time to administer the syringe containing the liquid that would render Olivia unconscious until late the next morning, giving them plenty of time. Olivia would wake thinking she had been the victim of a robbery. She should have no clue that the real reason was a simple piece of paper she had had tucked away inside her gold purse.
A couple of hours earlier:
Tallie had jogged into the upscale inn’s main lobby wearing a black running suite with her long,hair tucked up under a neoprene running cap. Playing the part of a guest who had gone out for exercise, she was also wearing thin gloves, wide wraparound sunglasses, small backpack and listening to music on her I Phone. She took up station in a corner of the inns’ huge lobby, like she was resting, while listening to her music. Ten minutes later, Olivia, whom Tallie had been shadowing, came in. Olivia had been easy to follow. An eye catching figure clad in a gold silk dress and pearls. She was carrying a shiny gold purse, and holding a bag containing a deep purple satin gown. Olivia had headed straight to the elevator, tapped her floor button and disappeared inside.
Tallie spent an uncomfortably anxious 10 minutes deciding what to do. Olivia had not gone to the front desk to take her jewels from the safe. Although her jewelry was not a main part of the plan, Tallie had loftier goals in mind, they did present a rather profitable bonus. Tallie decided to proceed, not wanting to blow the whole operation for a few pretty baubles. She had just risen when the elevator tinged. The doors opened, and Olivia exited into the lobby, still clad in the gold silk, and headed to the desk. There, she had the manager retrieve a black case. Showtime Tallie thought, relieved now that she had waited, watching as Olivia once again left in the elevator. Ten minutes after that, it was time to put the plan in motion. Using her I Phone, Tallie rang Olivia’s room pretending to be a hotel employee. “Someone had found something of yours in the lobby; a manager is on her way up with it.” She hung up not giving Olivia any chance for response.
From then, it had gone like clockwork. Tallie, with delight, watched the shocked look on Olivia’s face when she opened the door expecting a female hotel manager, but instead came face to face with a Taser wielding double of herself, Tallie! Firing the Taser, the shocked girl slumped into Tallies’ welcome arms. Kicking the door shut, Tallie pulled Olivia into the bathroom, where she was then bound and gagged. To make it look like a robbery, Tallie stripped Olivia of her pearl necklace, earrings, bracelets and rings. Then she quickly looted the apartment of any other small, but valuable items. Placing these items, along with the small backpack, into a leather clutch. Tallie then went to the dresser top and opened the black case sitting there. She whistled to herself as she savored the shiny contents. Looking them over, she made a selection, then poured the remaining jewelry into the clutch, glittering explosive fire as they went. She placed the selected diamond jewelry on the bathroom sink. Tallie found Olivia’s gold purse and opened it and pulled the ticket out. Studying, with eager eyes, the prize they had worked so hard to obtain. The small ticket was the key to the whole plot, worth potentially millions.
Carrying the purse to the bathroom, Tallie started to get ready. De bagging Olivia’s purple gown, she slipped it on. It poured over her curvy figure perfectly, as they had known it would. Tallie had switched her calfskin gloves for a pair of Olivia’s satin ones. It was as she had been putting on Olivia’s glittering diamonds that the tied up girl started to stir. Walking over to the groggy eyed girl, Tallie pretended to fumble with the ropes knots, and administered the hypo containing the knockout drops. After checking the heavily sedated Olivia’s Pulse, Tallie finished putting on the unlucky girls jewels.
Tallie admired herself in the mirror, almost not recognizing herself. She had dyed her midnight black hair blonde to match Olivia‘s and had put in blue tinted contacts. The clingy gown fitted snugly in all the right places, tightly outlining her perky breasts and nicely rounded butt. Very nice, thought Tallie beaming. After putting on Olivia’s stiletto heels, Tallie pronounced herself ready. Picking up the purse, she patted it for luck, and went into the bedroom. Tallie called the front desk, asking to have a limo called to pick her up out front, then she also ordered a wakeup call with breakfast for eleven o’clock the next morning. Hanging up the phone, Tallie still had 12 minutes left to kill. She spent it retracing her steps around the entire apartment making sure nothing had been overlooked, and then double checked that Olivia was going to stay out of the picture. When her time was up, Tallie snatched the clutch up from the satin covers of the bed, heavy now with Olivia’s valuables and her running suit and backpack. Tallie left the apartment, closing the door after hanging a do not disturb sign on the lever. Tallie entered the empty elevator , pushed the down button, and focused on the task at hand.
Finally, after seemingly endless months of careful plotting, preparation, rehearsals and dry runs. It was time. The whole scheme had been planned to the minutest detail, it had to be. The main prize was the tens of millions of dollars’ worth of jewels worn by the female guests attending the annual formal Casino Night by the Bay Ball. The annual black tie ball was a Republican Political Fundraiser by special invitation only and Olivia, who had been carefully selected and shadowed for weeks now, had been one of the lucky ticket holders. As a final coup de grâce , Tallie would attend the ball wearing Olivia’s luxurious gown and her brilliantly expensive diamonds, fitting right in with the other attendees. Security would be checking ID’s at the door. But Tallie now resembled Olivia almost to a T. She would fool those rent a cops easily as they checked her against Olivia‘s driver’s license for identification, bending over and showing a little bosom for added distraction. Tallie couldn’t wait to mingle and rub elbows with the galas ultra-rich patrons. She would mark her time by mingling and endearing herself to as many of the male guests as possible in the short time allotted to her. She would use her rich welsh brogue to the fullest to win over the posh male Yanks. All the while admiring the shiny gowns and scoping out the shimmering jewels that would be adorning her fellow female guests. Those jewels would include the Dahlkemper pearls, the Caboyt diamonds with the brilliant sapphires that placed the “Hope Diamond” to shame, and, of course, the famous matching waterfall diamond sets the Dempsey Twins would be wearing (Not to mention their Mother’s emeralds and rubies) . The sets, which had been presented as gifts at the twins ultra- fancy coning out ball, were insured for over 1 million dollars by the girls parents.
Then at the appointed hour, Tallie would slip away to a seldom used back stage door, conveniently hidden neath a stairwell. Security would not have this door covered. It was there that Tallies’ husband and his troupe of fellow masked thieves would be waiting to make their entrance. If all went to plan and it would, she was sure of that, they would proceed to hold up and rob all the guests. Relieving the lot of their fat designer purses, thick leather wallets, gold Rolexes, and of course, their jewels, Lots and lots of shimmering, pricy jewelry. Not to mention the piles of loose cash lying on the gambling tables begging to be collected. Tallie’s heart beat faster at the enticing visions.
After the last guest had been relieved of their valuables, Tallie’s next part of the plot would come. This was where Tallie’s experience as an actress would pay off. The thieves would grab an innocent hostage (Tallie) by knifepoint Then, while threatening the life of the frightened squirming hostage, order the rest of the guests to strip off their clothing. If Tallie had played her part well, mingling and playing the doe eyed innocent who reminded those she met as someone who they would love to protect, her fellow guests would not want to see her harmed and be obedient to the robbers threats, not wishing any harm to come to her. The guests would be threatened to not to try anything for the next hour, or they would eliminate their hostage. The gang would then leave with their loot, as well as their hapless hostage. Then they would make, what in Tallie’s opinion, was a rather brilliantly orchestrated get away.
This was not the first time out for Tallie and her husband’s team, but it promised to be their last. The gang had been operating in Europe and Latin America, seeking out small, but lucrative, gatherings of the privileged and ultra-wealthy. They had gotten quite adept, fine tuning a formula that successfully paid attention to even the minutest detail.
Tallie loved playing the part of the inside victim. Getting as close as possible to the female guests (usually by flirting with husbands and boyfriends) to get a close appraisal of their jewels. Then, after letting her husband and crew loose, observing the well-dressed guests being herded to line up along the wall with raised hands. Usually creating a colorful array of swishing lace, satin, silk , velvety gowns and dresses, all flowing along forlorn figures. It was a thrill to watch their facial and body expressions and reactions. Especially of the women and girls present, as they were forced to hand over their flashy gemstones, their Shiny gold and silver, opulent pearls and other assorted fine jewelry were handed over reluctantly from about their persons.
Then would come the part that really aroused Tallie. The thieves would reach her and tell her to “fork over the jewels miss,” and depending on her mood, would do so, either acting defiant and forcing them to take them off her, or frightened(especially if the thief was her husband) , and timidly handing them over. She would be squirming inside with a deep, delicious delight as she took off , or had the thief wrench off, each precious piece. It was a reaction she did not fully understand, but just knew and accepted it as a scintillating feeling. Tallie, shivered, licking her lips at past memories of being a robbery “victim”.
The band had no qualms about was fair game, boldly invading Weddings, Receptions, Fancy dress dances and even the upscale prom or mansion party. All had been meticulously planned, all had been very lucrative. Their last raid had been carried out on a coming out party for an English Earl/ Minister and his titled wife’s only daughter. It had occurred at the minister’s isolated country manor located deep in the moors. Where, in addition to the jewels worn by the guests that ill-fated Saturday evening, the manor’s many bedroom safes yielded a dazzling array of cases of unworn jewelry brought by the guests for the four day weekend.
Tallie fondly remembered that raid. She had gained access to the family by going as the guest of a rather vain bachelor she had “happened to make an acquaintance with,” in London. The dinner gatherings and nightly parties that had led up to the night of the debutante’s ball had been all over the top, as only very old money can pull off. Tallie had almost suffered a system overload by observing the bounty of rich offerings at her fingertips. Beckoning jewels so very close, and as of yet, so very far. The Saturday evening ball could not have come soon enough. But come it did, and the minister’s daughter did not disappoint, nor did her mother or any other of their female guests. The young debutante had made her grand entrance in a long slinky blood red gown and matching gloves. Among the child’s perfect jewels was included an authentic family heirloom tiara, dripping with pristine diamonds, holding up the wavy curls of her silky fawn hair.
Tallies mouth had watered as she kept stealing looks, keeping her eyes glued to the precocious miss all evening. She inwardly was squirming with anticipation, up until the delightful moment when the begowned debutante limply removed and handed over the tiara, along with the rest of her gleaming diamonds and pearls to one of the gang of masked robbers who had had the “audacity “ to crash the party..
Now, Tallie was traditionally allowed to keep one piece of jewelry from the loot taken from each job as part of her take if she so desired. She always enjoyed picking out pieces she would like to have as she mingled with her fellow guests before her husband’s gang charged in. In the coming out party it had been the sad puppy faced debutante‘s cascading diamond earrings that Tallie had claimed for her own from the minute she first saw them dangling from the pretty girl’s delicate ears. Tallie had subsequently worn and been “robbed” of those earrings several times on jobs since then.
After the Manor house’s guests had been relieved of their valuables, the gang had made its getaway, seemingly vanishing into the moors misty air. The mechanics of that escape would form the basis of their getaway attempt after this evening’s robbery of the wealthy guests attending the “By the Bay Ball” Actually the symmetry of the two events did not stop there. The profit realized by the take from the Earl’s family and guests had given the gang the seed money for the enormous expense in planning tonight’s complex raid. And tonight’s successful raid on the ball, appropriately enough, its diamond jubilee, would be splashed over all of the countries newspapers, like the Manor raid had been. And like after the Manor raid, Tallie and her husband would be reading those papers in the safty of their isolated island retreat.
******************
As Tallie dwelt on that remembrance, the elevator completed its long, uninterrupted journey by tinging its 1st floor arrival. Showtime! Tallie thought with wry amusement as she stepped into the now crowded lobby. Tonight would be more of the same tingling robbery experiences, only ten times better and since it may very well be her last time , Tallie was going to savor every delicious minute.
Tallie left the elevator and moved quickly towards the sitting area she had occupied when watching for Olivia to come in. In one of the chairs sat a young man wearing wraparound sunglasses reading a blue covered novel. She swished by him, allowing her satin clad leg to brush along his. She watched with enticement as he straightened, uncomfortably, in his chair, his reaction to her teasing pleasing her immensely . Going around him, she placed her clutch on the chair behind him before turning and primping herself in front of one of the long mirrored walls that lined the sitting area. Seeing that no one as of yet was looking her way, she smiled to herself and swished her way back into the main lobby, leaving behind her clutch. She again passed the young man, who, even with the sunglasses, bore a striking resemblance to a young Sidney Poitier! No signal passed between them. The blue novel meant everything was going as planned, a red novel would have meant danger. The clutch on the chair behind him signaled the young man she had teased, Jessie by name , that everything was a go on Tallies end. After she left, Jessie would retrieve the clutch and rejoin Tallies husband and the rest of his gang.
With the prearranged signals exchanged, Tallie happily made her way to the fancy Glass doors where a uniformed Doorman was opening for arriving and departing guests. She could feel more than one pair of jealous eyes following her as she weaved her way through the crowd, her long gown swishing deliciously along her pretty figure. The pretty blond in the purple satin and shimmering diamonds was soon lost to sight, as she exited the doors to the misty street below. Those watching her were totally oblivious that the pretty blonde passing them was setting into motion the complex wheels of a rather ingenious scheme. Meanwhile in a ballroom some miles away a large group of extremely well dressed and decked out guests attending a certain excessively extravagant Ball , were innocently mingling, jewels sparkled with a frenzied riot of colours! These heavily gem encrusted guests were also totally oblivious as to what fate had in store for them in a few hours.
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@ Chatwick University extends its compliments to the unknown artist whose worthy photo and captivating title proved to be the spark that ignited the genesis of our Tallies Odyssey….
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(A Song of degrees.) In my distress I cried unto the LORD, and he heard me.
Deliver my soul, O LORD, from lying lips, and from a deceitful tongue.
What shall be given unto thee? or what shall be done unto thee, thou false tongue?
Sharp arrows of the mighty, with coals of juniper.
Woe is me, that I sojourn in Mesech, that I dwell in the tents of Kedar!
My soul hath long dwelt with him that hateth peace.
I am for peace: but when I speak, they are for war.
(Psalms, 120)
Oakdale is a scion of America's gilded age of a century ago, where powerful men of incredible wealth built South Shore gold coast mansions and dwelt in manorial splendor.
Oakdale originated from a tavern owned by Eliphalet (Liff) Snedecor in what is now Connetquot River State Park. Soon after its founding in 1820, Snedecor's Tavern began drawing New York bluebloods and business barons who wined and dined in remote joy when they weren't fishing and hunting nearby. ``Liff's food is as good as his creek,`` a magazine writer declared in 1839, referring to the Connetquot River, ``and the two are only second to his mint juleps and champagne punch; whoever gainsays either fact deserves hanging without benefit of clergy.`` In 1866, as the railroad reached the area, Liff's wealthy patrons formed the Southside Sportsmen's Club, and soon the race was on to see who could create the most superb spread in the thick forests adjoining Great South Bay.
The most prominent were William K. Vanderbilt, grandson of railroad magnate Cornelius Vanderbilt; Frederick G. Bourne, president of the Singer Sewing Machine Co., and Christopher Robert II,[1] an eccentric heir to a sugar fortune. Meanwhile, William Bayard Cutting, a lawyer, financier and railroad man, built his estate next door in Great River, which had once been west Oakdale.
Oakdale was part of the royal land grant given to William Nicoll, who founded Islip Town in 1697. Local historian Charles P. Dickerson, writing in 1975, said Oakdale's name apparently came from a Nicoll descendant in the mid-19th century. The community has other claims to historical distinction: St. John's Episcopal Church, built in 1765, is the third oldest church on Long Island. In 1912, Jacob Ockers of Oakdale organized the Bluepoint Oyster Co., which became the largest oyster producer and shipper in the country.
But the mansions dominated Oakdale's past. In 1882, Vanderbilt built the most noted one, Idle Hour, his 900-acre (3.6 km2) estate on the Connetquot River. The lavish, wooden 110-room home was destroyed by fire April 15, 1899, while his son, Willie K. II, was honeymooning there. Willie and his new wife escaped. It was promptly rebuilt of red brick and gray stone, with exquisite furnishings, for a princely $3 million. The building at the time was considered among the finest homes in America. His daughter Consuelo had also honeymooned there when she married the Duke of Marlborough in 1895.
After Vanderbilt's death in 1920, the mansion went through several phases and visitors, including a brief stay during Prohibition by gangster Dutch Schultz. Around that time, cow stalls, pig pens and corn cribs on the farm portion of Idle Hour were converted into a short-lived bohemian artists' colony that included figures such as George Elmer Browne and Roman Bonet-Sintas. Now the estate is the home of Dowling College, a fast-growing commuter school.
By 1888, Robert built a spectacular castle just east of Idle Hour called Pepperidge Hall, magnificently furnished in the French style for his young wife. But the pair didn't get along. On January 2, 1898, she told police she found Robert shot to death in his Manhattan apartment. It was ruled suicide and she moved to Paris. The mansion fell into disrepair and was razed in 1941.
In 1897, Bourne, who began with 438 acres (1.77 km2) but later owned several thousand acres reaching to West Sayville, completed his mansion, Indian Neck Hall, on the east side of Oakdale. Bourne was active locally, as commodore of the Sayville Yacht Club, and was generous to the local fire department. The eastern part of his estate now comprises the West Sayville County Golf Course and the Long Island Maritime Museum, while much of the middle portion is covered with homes. Bourne died in 1920. Six years later the mansion, on the western end, became the site of La Salle Military Academy, operated by the Christian Brothers, a Catholic order. In 1993, the brothers converted the academy into a kindergarten-through-high-school ``global learning community.`` In 2001, La Salle was closed and it was bought by St. John's University, New York.
Oakdale was founded around two Native American trade routes, where Sunrise Highway and Montauk Highway currently lie.
Case Study 113 : Warning, these are the raw, bare unusual occurrences as originally chronicled. Some names, times, places and some facts have been, of course, altered.
Name: Angelica D circa 192__
Subject: an unscrupulous light-fingered body thief
Event: Posh Wedding Reception
Place: Upstate New York
Time: Warm early Autumn Saturday
Angie Being Receptive
Story line:
Angie had heard about the affair, a wedding, from a list of prospective functions provided by a discreetly paid contact. It was being given for the only daughter of a wealthy politician (as if there were any non-wealthy ones!) Angie had happily invited herself to the affair, carefully dressing up in her best for the special occasion!
**
Wedding receptions were by far Angie’s favorite hunting grounds. During the season there could be anywhere from upwards of 20 high end affaires every weekend in the bigger cities, and always 2 or 3 in even the smallest of towns.
Wedding s were usually easy pickings: free food, drink and entertainment, and seldom worn jewelry made for a ready-made mix for Angie to ply her trade. For Angelica D. was a uniquely skilled pickpocket, specializing in the removal for profit of the expensive jewelry worn by the (usually be -gowned) women and young ladies’ who hauntingly dwelt in societies upper crust!
So Weddings, by their nature, were the desirable choice for Angie. One only had to avoid the Bride, her Bridesmaids, and their court, which were usually the major focus of any security present. However, there were plenty of opportunities to be had by employing her special bag of tricks on the outlaying fringe.
Angie had arrived early at the mammoth facility, to scout out the establishment and to scope out who was wearing what. Used to these affairs either being feast or famine, she could quickly tell that in this one there was cooking up a devouring banquet.
**
After Angie had entered the mammoth reception room it did not take her long to spy her first plump prospect, nicely loaded with possibilities. It was a lady, bearing a haughty look, who had been making a b-line through the crowd as way was parted for her. She was wearing a luxuriously long rusty coloured sable fur coat that hid most of her long crimson -red satin gown. What Jewels were visible, ears, fingers and wrist, were all flashing with pricy fire. In tow she held the hand of a young girl, obviously her daughter, wearing actual makeup, which, along with her fetching gown and brite jewelry, made her appear far older than she was. A handsome man , looking like the actor William Powell in a tux, followed behind the pair, husband and father, Angie presumed. She shadowed the little family as they swished their way to a corner table, conveniently located by a rear exit, for a better look over. Her fingers had started with an all too familiar tingle as she took it all in.
**
The husband helped his wife out of the sable, laying it carefully along a bench against the wall. Angie was not disappointed. A silver necklace of large matched diamonds gracefully encircled her throat. A dazzling blood ruby and diamond brooch held up the center of her gown, positioned just below the bust line. Brooches, like this one, were worth a lot once fenced, but its placement required a little more dexterity and skill than she was willing to risk. In actuality, Angie had only attempted twice before to take a brooch pinned to a gown in this fashion. She had only been successful one of those times, only to find out it was a pretty piece of paste.( Years later, as Angie’s talents became more polished, relieving ladies of their dangling brooches, like this blood ruby, became her specialty.. the Eds.) Angie’s eyes moved on. The rest of the snooty lady’s jewels matched her necklace. Long earrings, free clipped, dangling brightly from her earlobe s. A pair of wide ruby bracelets clasped tightly home around elegant red elbow length satin gloves, sparkled devastatingly, matching her brooch. Her long fingers were home to a pair of ruby and diamond rings and a third ring set with a gold band and a vulgarly large solitaire diamond.
**
Angie’s attention turned to the daughter, whom had been helped by her Father , squirming, from the chocolate coloured satin cape that she had been wearing. The youngster, all of about 10, was wearing a cream coloured long puffy sleeved dress with a brown satin sash encircling her waist that matched her Cape. The young lady possessed impossible large bright eyes. The only thing that held more shine than those doe like eyes had been the antique rhinestone diamond necklace that fell dripping ever so invitingly down the front of the precious little imp’s rich glossy gown. The rest of her matching rhinestones (obviously belonging to the child’s mother) consisted of an engaging display of a bracelet, pair of dangling, screwed on clasp earrings, and matching rings encircling a chubby finger one on each hand. It all gleamed brightly, invitingly from her svelte girlish figure. A large round pin held her sash up in place; it sparkled with what looked like a ring consisting of one caret diamonds, as unlikely as it was they could be real.
**
The two females of the family presented a pretty package indeed. Not one to pass up an invite that alluring, Angie walked by , with the pretext of heading to a back exit behind the table the little family had staked, just so she could get a closer peek.
**
Angie’s practiced eye took in a wealth of information during the few seconds it took her to walk up and pass the group, so involved with themselves they never even looked her way. Her attention focused upon the young mother first scoping head to toe.
**
Angie scrutinized the brooch; it was definitely worth the effort. In her mind’s eye, Angie envisioned the mother as a stumbling drunk “bumping into” Angie. Fingers whisking along the slippery lustrously softness of the gown, as the lady was steadied. Angie would accept the women apologies and the pair would part their ways, Angie from the young mother, and the magnificent brooch from the rich satiny red gown. But then the mother raised her head, looking up past Angie, towards a commotion being made behind her. Typical Angie thought, she doesn’t recognize me, so I don’t exist, like some sort of servant. But it was as she caught the young mother in full profile that she realized this lady looked strikingly similar to another woman who had been wearing an expensive dress of teal charmeuse that Angie had had been having a long conversation with, while relieving the woman’s finger of a costly diamond sapphire ring. It had happened only just last weekend at a formal function, and Angie figured she may have not recognized her in passing, but may if Angie were to use one of her approaches again with the intent of taking some of her jewelry, he memory may be jarred, and she may remember her missing ring. This was why Angie only allowed herself to ply her trade for no more than a month in any given place per year. This was from a lesson she had learned early on in her career. And so, for that reason alone, Angie decided to, at least temporarily, abandon any designs she had on the young mother’s brooch, allowing her devious intentions to evaporate from her mind like smoke on the wind. There were plenty more fish in the sea she told herself.
**
Angie still allowed herself a quick appraisal of the squirming 10 year old. She admired the glossy dress of slippery satin that her mother had conveniently dressed her daughter up in, as it fell spilling down to her black open toed shoes. Angie’s fingers started to tingle; this was a perfect tickling gown. Angie liked to think of any long dress or gown that swept down to a females heels as a” tickling gown”. All it took was a strategically placed foot timed with a well place nudge to send the chosen victim tumbling. During the ensuing diversion, Angie would use her long subtle fingers to swiftly probe along the gowned figure, tickling she like to call it due to the tingling sensation of the usually rich material of the victim’s attire. In this fashion, a pre-targeted piece of valuable jewelry could then be easily acquired, no matter what its placement had been on the unfortunate female. If only the chatty youngster had something on better than rhinestones. It was a crying shame to have a child that young dolled up like an adult, but not wearing adult jewels.
**
Angie continued to walk past, unseen, and went out the door. She found herself in a large serenity garden of roses and shrubs, surrounded by a 10 foot high well-trimmed hedge. The sort of garden one usually found in those days around upscale Churches. The only exit was a gate leading onto the parking lot on the side of the church. Here was positioned a solitary, lonely guard in a neat little guard hut. In the opposite, far corner was a statue of Cupid, arrow drawn, standing above a display of blooming moss roses at the end opposite to the gate. There was always potential in places like these.
**
Angie had started to walk over to the Cupid statue when she heard the exit door open. Turning, she saw the young girl, whose mother’s brooch Angie had been scoping out, looking out the door. She snuck through, running out alone, silky tickling gown swishing out behind her. Her heart leapt to her throat as she watched the girls rhinestones sparkle radiantly. She actually turned to head towards the path the unsuspecting child was running up, flexing her fingers as she contemplating a little warm up practice. Angie watched as the dolled up imps necklace flashed with pinpricks of coloure as it bounced to and fro as she ran happily up the path .Angie turned her back to the girl, waiting to hear the telltale click of her heels come up just behind her. She would then move, bumping into the girl as she passed, tripping her to the ground. After which Angie would help her up, removing the girl’s fancy necklace in the process. Come to Mama Angie whispered under her breath, waiting to make her move as the skipping heels grew ever louder.
**
But then Angie froze, hearing the clicking of the exit door again opening behind her. She checked her stride letting the daughter slither past without a glance. She headed again towards the statue, watching her prize move on ahead. Then she heard the father in the background calling out to his little princess. The youngster turned, and ran back, beaming at Angie as she passed. Angie smiled back, her eyes again traveling to the girls neckline, and the sparkling jewelry the outlined her throat. It had been a silly thought she chided herself, as the girl passed from view. If only the necklace had been real, and the father about ten minutes later in discovering his daughter absence. It would have been an unbelievably easy pluck and she could be out the gate before anyone was the wiser. And the best part was that they would probably believe the scampering girl had just lost it in the garden. And, while the parents were looking about, Angie would have been free to renter to ply her trade again. As it was, it was silly of Angie, risking her opportunity on a child’s bauble worth a mere pittance compared to some of the other offerings so readily being flaunted this evening by her adult counterparts.
**
Angie continued her casual stroll through the Garden, happily playing over in her mind some of the jewels that she would like to see adorning the female guests inside, and the scenarios she may be using to acquire them
**
Finding herself approaching the guard hut, she allowed herself a glance back. Jealously she watched the father, who had caught and was carrying his slippery attired daughter, heading back inside. How Angie wished she had been the one carrying the squirming little imp, it would have been like a smorgasbord, with jewels instead of food. Pity her mother had not put the good stuff on the daughter, she sighed to herself. Tonight she would have to work for her butter. She walked past the bored guard, nodding at him, receiving a rather lecherous look in return. A smile was forming across her cunning face, for now it was time to get down to the real business at hand.
**
The affair turned out to be quite a showcase for the very rich. Who were indiscreetly flaunting their riches, trying to outdo one another, probably for the benefit of the politicians’ attention? Certainly not for the attention of the designer satin gowned and flashy diamonded daughter, whom most of the guests hardly knew, or had ever met.
**
Angie always felt like a little kid in a candy shoppe at these lavish affairs.
She spent the first part of the reception mingling and thoroughly enjoying the show her the reception’s guests were u wittingly putting on. Angie, wearing no jewels herself, was something of an anomaly compared to her fellow guests.
**
There were over a thousand luxuriously coloured, squawking female birds and their young chicks pompously displaying valuable finery, oblivious of the cat amongst them waiting to pounce. Angie patently mingled, watching as the adult guests had their fill of food and drink.
Once their guard began to relax, Angie raised hers’, her probingly skillful fingers now more than prepared to begin and ply her trade. For the more they imbibed, the less guarded they were, both about themselves and their female offspring. Angie would start with the adults, 2 or 3 of the right pieces of jewelry, once acquired, and would mean she could call it a night and have enough to support her for a solid month. If she came up empty in that department, her back up would then center on the female off-spring, daughters and nieces.
Most of said offspring would be by then scattered about, aware that their parents were no longer paying them any heed, exploring and playing, sporting their fancy satin gowns, silken dresses, and their dainty jewelry, ripe for the picking. Giving pickpockets like Angie endless opportunity to ply their trade on them, once they had finished working through the adults. Or if the thieves were beginners, plenty of easy practice while “learning the ropes!”
**
Now, when Angie herself was just starting out as a young pickpocket, she stumbled across a treatise written by a man using the pseudonym “Gaston Monescu”. Written around 1826, entitled the Cutpurse: skilles, artes and Secretes of the Dip, it covered the various tactics and moves used by master pickpockets.
Angie had studied it religiously, especially a ploy called the “Necklace Flimp.” This tactic was primarily used for body thieves working alone. Angie had been surprised to learn that a pickpocket could raise his/her skill level above just acquiring wallets. Having the ability to lift a woman’s necklace amazed her, not to mention the profit that could be realized. With practice, Angie had found that not only was it a good technique for acquiring necklaces, but it worked for other pieces of worn jewelry as well.
It was relatively simple process, but took a long time to master.
First part was to employ psychology and watch the potential victim for the unique movements and quirks in their personality and actions that could provide an opportunity for her skills. Then observe the selected piece the victim wore, for value, type of clasp, make, and accessibility. The second part was to employ a bump, slip, or grasp, and in one motion, flick open the studied clasp and send the piece away from the body by either pulling and palming, or dropping it to the floor or ground for retrieval later. If she was noticed, it was “sorry, miss, very clumsy of me” “here let me get if for you, no harm done?” Then walk away and let the waters settle before trying yet again (sometimes even on the same person!)
Angie had practiced the jewelry flimp until she had the technique totally mastered. Starting out first on specially dressed up mannequins in her apartment, than trying it on small pieces of cheap baubles worn by real women in crowded streets and stores. Then on younger, less guarded, better jewelry wearing young girls attending proms and social dances. Young looking for her age at the time, Angie had fit right in amongst them. Then, finally, she graduated to lifting the better jewels of the older, wealthy women attending society’s finer parties and receptions. And it was this path that led her here today, and would also lead several unlucky females to report missing jewelry to their respective insurance companies.
**
See Album “Angie having a Ball” for additional background on our master thief with the light fingers.
**
Angie now eagerly employed those useful talents learned from monsieur Monescu’s little pamphlet at the wedding reception. She mingled freely, carrying around a drink that never touched her lips. She watched and learned, her trained eyes missing very little. Soon, like that hypothetical kid in a candy shoppe, Angie’s head was spinning from so much to choose from that she really could not make any easy choice. So, she waited and watched patiently, knowing opportunity would knock.
**
Then, like it usually happened with Angie, the first genuine opportunity unexpectedly presented herself. Angie literally was run into a rather awkward, spindly lady in thick glasses clad in a fetchingly expensive costume consisting of a thick silver satin blouse with hanging ruffles down its front, combined with a long rustling tiered skirt that swept down to the top of her open toed silver high heels. Her diamond jewelry shone with exuberant flames as they caught the light from the many chandeliers that hung from the vaulted ceiling. The lady expressed frantically her apologies, placing a hand with well ringed fingers on Angie’s shoulder, where they sparkled merrily. No worries Angie said smiling, her eyes taking it all in without appearing to move. She let the frazzled lady leave, allowing her a head start, it was only sporting to do so.
**
Angie shadowed her quarry for a while, seemingly rewarded for her efforts when the lady managed to spill a bit of her drink down on her skirt. In a show of flashing silvery satin and diamonds ,she retreated and disappeared into a nearby powder room, with Angie following eagerly, opportunity knocking.
**
As Angie grabbed onto the closing powder room door, a mid- twenty something girl in a deep green velvet gown came out. Her only jewelry was a wide diamond bracelet wrapped around a wrist of the matching long green gloves she wore. Angie caught it out of the corner of her eye, realizing that it was as expensive as it was bright. But it was her friend, a willowy short haired pretty young thing in a glamorous Chocolate Satin gown that made Angie’s jaw drop. Her jewels, like her friends, were also sparse, but enormously pricy. The long white satin gloves that graced her hands and arms also held matching bracelets, thin, but each one worth the effort. But her real eye catcher was the row of authentic, one caret white diamonds that were rippling exquisite fire along her throat. Angie held the door for them, nodding to as they passed. Noses in the air, they did not appear to notice Angie. Then, with the ladies backs to her, Angie abandoned Miss silver satin and turned to follow. Angie got in behind the two with the intention of getting a closure examination of the clasp of the fiery diamond necklace Miss Chocolate satin was wearing.
**
However, Angie never got her closer look. For at that moment the tossing of the bride’s boutique was announced and Angie was overwhelmed by a mad dash of single ladies heading for the bride. On a lark she allowed herself to be swept along, losing sight of Miss Chocolate satin, but found herself right smack behind Miss Green velvet and her cheerfully sparkling diamond bracelet, a beautifully expensive piece that would have cost someone a king’s ransom. Angie’s fingers began their all too familiar tingling, eager for a chance to acquire jewelry that valuable, but not for any king, just for herself!
**
Though the night was still relatively early, and Angie still had visions of those exquisite rippling diamonds of the pretty Miss in chocolate satin on her mind, she simply could not pass up this opportunity. Angie wedged herself close behind her chosen victim as the multitude of hopeful young women pressed forward to try their luck. As the Bride teased her guests before getting ready to toss her bouquet of white and red roses, Angie expertly scrutinized the bracelet as it dangled from the green velvet glove. When the bride finally turned her back and raised her arms every one of the richly clad single women’s eyes was focused on the bride’s bouquet, Angie’s eyes were fixated on the bracelet. With the music playing loud, the crowd giggling and laughing, and all eyes focused on the gorgeously outfitted young long haired bride, Angie again felt opportunity knocking. Her pulse beating in rhythm with the music, she made ready to seize the chance when it presented itself. The roses flew through the air and all the women raised their hands high, looking all for the world like being involved in a stick-up. Angie timed it perfectly, snapping the clasp, and snatching the bracelet easily away from the gloved wrist of its owner as she raised her arms high to grab at the boutique. In her excitement, shared by everyone, Miss Green velvet ( who did not catch the bouget of roses) never felt a thing. Angie had smirked as she left the giggling group, stowing securely the purloined diamonds, as she imagined what it would have been like to watch that group robbed in a mass stick-up. The money that some enterprising soul could have made from that haul would have been astronomical.
**
She went to the open bar, lighting her first cigarette; she ordered her first real drink of the night. She could feel the coolness of the weighty bracelet in its hiding spot, and Angie, pleased with herself, calmly sipped her drink as she relished in the moment. The toss of the Brides Boutique was, in Angie’s experienced opinion, one of the three common events occurring during a wedding reception that were fertilely prime times for pickpocketing. (Editor’s note.. Miss D. mysteriously never divulged what she considered the other two prime events to be….)
**
She looked about without a worry in the world, coolly watching the antics of some of the younger women on the dance floor. She spied the young miss in the green velvet gown over in a corner talking in an animated fashion with several other women. Green velvet gown’s now bare velvet glove, apparently not noticed by anyone but Angie. One of her group was displaying some bright emeralds peeking through the long silver fur she was wearing, obviously she was leaving, and she was talking excitedly about something to the group formed around her! Nowhere in sight was Miss chocolate satin, too bad, Angie would have loved another peek before leaving.
Angie watched around the room causally, as the cold bracelet pressed expensively against her figure from its hiding spot. She eventually lost track of green velvet and her friends while finishing her drink. Setting down the empty glass, she decided it was time to call it a night. The bracelet now in her possession was easily worth as much as the 2 or 3 separate pieces she usually acquired at functions like these, added together! And, she needed her rest, Angie had a couple of plans the next day, one revolving around the female guests who would be attending an upscale afternoon prom fashion show a, the other, an evening opera performance (invited guests only, and her contact had managed to supply a ticket, at a hefty price!) No rest for the wicked, Angie told herself.
**
On her way out of the main lobby, she found herself leaving behind the very lady in green velvet whose bracelet was now in Angie’s possession. She was with the same gaggle of her similarly dressed friends, including the one exhibiting the emeralds. However, miss chocolate satin was still not visible. They were laughing and joking as they collected their assorted pretty wraps, obviously heading for a nightclub. If she had not already relieved one of them of a bauble, Angie might have invited herself along, if only to have a go at some emeralds. Angie hesitated about leaving withy them, then shrugged, followed the group out the door past the pair of bored rent a cops.
**
She remembered thinking, as she followed the elegant young princesses ,their fluid gowns peeking from under their various furs and wraps, how shallow the very rich could be. She wondered if Miss Green velvets friends had even noticed that she had had diamonds around the wrist of her glove, let alone that they were now missing. She wondered how long it would be before the bracelets loss was discovered. She figured it would be several hours, long enough for its owner not to be sure what place they had been lost. As young Miss Green velvet fancy gown and her friends turned right outside the exit, Angie turned left, heading towards the guard hut at the entrance to the garden.
She decided not to follow them but rather circle around the outside of the garden to give her victim time to leave.
**
That simple decision to make a left turn proved to be a major turning point in Angie’s fortunes that evening.
**
As Angie passed the hut guarding the entrance to the serenity garden, she noticed it was deserted.
It was as she was looking it over, that she heard the sounds of clicking heels moving fast, followed by the sounds of a young girl giggling. On the alert she stole to the backside of the hut, soon spying a splash of something blue and silky between the gaps of a couple of large bushes. Her senses on their highest peak, she began to move cautiously in, hoping the female making the noise would be in need of aid and comfort perhaps.
**
She soon spotted a young lady of about 14 bending over, hands on her knees as she panted heavily. Her back was to Angie, and what pretty back it was. She was nicely attired in a long gown of shiny material dyed deep blue like an afternoon, cloudless summer sky. The gown cascaded down along her petite figure, spilling out on the ground around her feet. Her hair was pulled back, easily displaying a pair of small diamond and sapphire earrings, not rhinestones for this one, but the real McCoy. Around one finger was a gold ring with sapphires, and from her left wrist dangled a thin silver bracelet with a row of diamond chips, both pretty, both valuably real. But it was her last piece of visible jewelry that stole the show. It hung, swinging to and from her neck on a thick braided chain of solid silver. On its end, like a hypnotists prism, was a silver pendent in the shape of a flower, with 1 inch long, pear shaped real diamonds as petals and a fully 2 inch in circumference center stone of deep sea blue. Angie watched it, her eyes following it for a full minute, its expensive fire sealing its own fate as Angie began flexing her fingers. Angie took her eyes off of it and looked around to see why the princess had been running. But all was still as the girl continued to peek through the branches towards the back door leading into the hall. Angie silently approached, and walking up to the pretty miss she bent down and in a friendly tone, asked who she was running from.
**
I played a joke on my sister, and now I’m hiding from her, piped the girl breathlessly, as Angie placed a hand upon the girls shoulder in a conspiratorial fashion, said shoulder made silky soft by the gowns half sleeve.
**
I know a better place where you can hide from her, Angie whispered in the girl’s ear, the dangling earring ever so close to her lips. The girl looked up, smiling, and Angie pointed towards the guard hut, and as the girl looked, Angie’s fingers glided up along the silky shoulder and lifted the thick silver chain up from the back of the gowns’ scooped collar. Come Angie said, and as the girl rose Angie’s fingers nimbly flicked open the chains’ lobster clasp, holding onto the clasp as the other end of the chain slipped down, allowing the pendent to slide free and fall onto the grass at the girls feet, where it lay shimmering. Angie moved her hand to the girls shoulder, squeezing it, while slipping off the braided silver chain with her other hand, whisking it back and away from the guileless young girl. Angie led her princess away from the spot and walked with her to the guard’s hut, still empty, where she had her hide neath the counter.
**
Angie turned and went back to claim the pendent, there still was no sign of any sister. She secured the pendent, joining it with the chain and bracelet, and headed deeper into garden. Her plan was to watch the hut and see which way the girl went after getting bored waiting. But as she skirted the perimeter her plans were changed when, upon rounding a corner of the path at the far end, she saw yet another back belonging to a solitary lady in her late thirties, clad in a long slinky yellow coloured gown of expensively shiny taffeta, bending over to smell the yellow roses on a bush. Instinctively Angie knew two things about her. One was that whatever jewels this lady would be wearing, they would be expensive, and the other was that with an expensive gown like that; the lady would undoubtedly be wearing her jewels. Angie suddenly became aware that her fingers were tingling, as an all too familiar whelming feeling again delightfully washed over her.
**
Angie found herself automatically turning back onto the garden path. She headed around the women and went down to the cupid’s statue, where now out of sight, she carefully hid the purloined bracelet, and still warm fiery pendent and its ‘fancy silvery braided chain..
**
She then headed towards the unsuspecting flower admirer. The ladies’ long brunette hair had fallen, flowing down the backside of her shiny taffeta gown. Angie could see rings and a bracelet gleaming as she was holding up the rose to her face. A long double rope of pearls hung swaying deliciously from her throat. Coming up behind her Angie stood watching; calculating until the lady rose and with a start realized she was not alone.
**
Pretty Angie said, her eyes on the pearls now draping down the front of her marks yellow gown. They are lovely, are they not? The damsel responded thinking Angie was referring to the roses. Just like the ones in the park, my husband and I walked through on our way to catch a cab today. Actually, I meant your dress Angie said complimentary. Thank you the lady practically squealed, I love the way it flows, and she swirled it about to show Angie, who got an eyeful of sparkly jewelry for her efforts. As she continued engaging the women in conversation, Angie decided upon attempting for the woman’s necklace of pearl. Seeing opportunity knocking when Yellow Taffeta pulled her long hair forward so it hang down the front of her gorgeous gown, laying silkily over one shoulder, nicely exposing the pricy necklaces clasp. Angie looked around, they were alone, out of site of the opposite end of the garden where the inside door was, and the guards hut with it’s pretty occupant.
**
Angie, using the marks interest in roses to her advantage, managed to steer the capricious damsel in shiny yellow over to the cupid’s statue. There, she placed a hand upon a silky taffeta covered shoulder, and pointed down to the shrub of moss roses growing at the foot of the statue . When she stooped down to get a closer look, Angie’s fingers whisked from her marks shoulder to the clasp, in a single effort with two fingers, lifted it by the clasp, and snapped it open. At that moment the mark cried “spider” and jumped up, backing into Angie, who watched helplessly as the pearls fell down from the damsel’s throat and slipped along the front of the yellow taffeta gown. They fell with a soft plop unto the ground at their mistress’s feet. Angie tried to lead her away, hoping to come back and reclaim the necklace. But as Angie pointed to another rose bush some distance away, the lady took a step forward, instead of back, planting her feet right onto the pearl necklace. Hey she exclaiming, what’s that, looking down to her high heeled foot? Oh, my pearls the lady squealed again, a glittering hand shooting to feel around her throat. Angie reached down, and reluctantly retrieved them from the base of the rose bush for the squealing lady in yellow . My husband would not have been pleased if I had lost these, she said as Angie held them, feeling their pricey smoothness.
**
She asked if Angie could help her put them on, my maid usually does this sort of thing, you know. Angie reluctantly complied, re- hanging the pearls as the pretty damsel held up her hair, and reluctantly redid the clasp. The Damsel thanked Angie by embracing her in a full hug, her diamond and pearl earring hitting Angie’s cheek. But Angie’s arms were being held by the hugging woman, so Angie was able to only watch the tantalizingly close earring sway free. Angie left yellow-gowned damsel in the garden, getting nothing for her efforts other than the feel of an expensive gown of the likes she could probably never afford to own.
**
With the pretty damsel hovering around the cupid statue, Angie decided to go back into the reception hall until the coast was clear. She carefully looked towards the Guards hut, and seeing that the guard had returned, figured the girl, so fetchingly clad in blue, had been rousted out, so that loose end was probably tied up. She just had to keep a careful eye out. The quite valuable bracelet and pricy necklace with its pendent were well hidden; there was absolutely no danger of someone stumbling over it.
**
Truth was, Angie had found her appetite wetted and once again visions of a lady in chocolate brown satin exhibiting a row of flashy diamonds, teased her thoughts. An accomplished pickpocket like herself had a couple of well-practiced ploys she could utilize to obtain a tight fitting necklace from its mistress. In addition, Angie was now determined to find her and to risk a try. She had really nothing to lose.
**
It took almost an hour of hunting amongst the now well liquored, gaily mingling crowd before Angie could admit to herself that there was absolutely no sign of the willowy lady in the stunning chocolate satin gown. Damn she thought to herself, those diamonds were something special. She shrugged it off, reciting in her mind a wicked little mantra of hers, “Another one who got away, a chance to lose her jewels to Angie on another day!” She strolled about pondering on what her next course of action could be. There had been no sign of the pretty girl in blue whose necklace Angie now had hidden away, and Miss Green Velvet was definitely out of the picture, so she felt that it was still safe to try to pluck one last bird or chick. In her hunt for the brown, Angie had seen several inviting prospects; one lady(purple satin, diamonds), two girls( ivory silk, pearled pin; red satin, gold necklace set with chips of precious stones), and now was weighing the risks.
It was at that point she once again espied the thickly bespectacled awkwardly introverted young lady invitingly wearing the thick silver satin ruffled blouse, which she had been tailing much earlier. And as Angie watched here, she again accepted the invitation. Her prey had appeared on the dance floor, being led around by a rather charming young man. That would make a dandy consolation prize Angie drooled to herself happily as she took in the sparkling show put on by the dancers jewels.
**
Angie looked her over, reacquainting herself with the jewels she so nicely was displaying. A pair of long earrings cascaded down from her earlobes where they precariously held on by antique silver claps. Angie relished the opportunity to “flimp” pairs of earrings like these. Heavily jeweled, each one was worth a tidy sum. Angie mulled this as she continued to study the jewels of her appealingly dressed new target.
**
The girl’s only ring was a solitaire diamond of at least 3 carets on a thick solid gold band worn vulnerably loose on her un-gloved, bare ring finger. A wide silver cuff bracelet with what appeared to be at least seven rows of matching, shimmering diamonds was dangling around her left wrist (she was right handed Angie observed) . The bracelet had a habit of lying over her sleeve, and Angie could see that it was a costly tiffany piece, whose clasp was exceptionally easy to flick open. A diamond pendent hung swinging from her satiny ruffles, held by an extravagantly thick silver chain with a simple , small eye in hook clasp. The Diamonds in the pendent were as shimmery as stars plucked from the night’s sky.
Angie remembered reading that in a poem from a book she had picked up years earlier in a library, while stalking a young mother in a satin dress, wearing an authentic Gruen Watch on one wrist, and a bracelet of diamonds on the other, that had gone into the library in pursuit of her young son running inside. Like that young mother, It was obvious that this lady in silver satin was not accustomed to wearing jewels, and that set probably spent most of their days lying in a safe. Angie licked her lips as she imagined what the other contents of that safe might look like
**
Angie moved in to allow herself a much closer appraisal of her potential victim’s jewels.
The young lady was totally oblivious to anything but the rather surprisingly strikingly handsome man who to all appearances was her Fiancée, who was holding her ever so close. But Angie was able to see enough of what she wanted to. The young Ladies’ thick satin blouse shone richly in the lights, moving like glistening wet liquid silver, while from her waist spilled the long black skirt with satiny tiers that swished and swayed nicely along her figure as she uneasily danced. Her jewels were bursting with colour as they played hide and seek with Angie’s watchful eyes. From all appearances, they were a mismatched couple. He seemed to know everyone and moved with a confident air, she was just the opposite. It made an enticingly intriguing package indeed for someone with Angie’s skills.
**
Silver Satin was the perfect “Gaston Monescu” type of mark, a perfect combination of classic mannerisms, clothing and Jewels worth anyone’s efforts to take. This was the only fly in the ointment that Angie observed. For by the bar she could see that two other sets of eyes were watching the same young lady in shiny satin and blazing diamonds. Angie intuitively knew they were drooling over acquiring jewels she was wearing.
**
She had noticed the pair of young men in loose fitting suits when they had entered a little earlier about the same time as Angie’s reappearance. They were obviously casing the jewels of any woman, young, or old, who walked past them. Angie knew their type, simple thieves, with no real skills outside of holding a knife in a dark alley to the throat of their victim while they unceremoniously searched and stripped them of their treasures. Angie saw that they were whispering amongst themselves and instinctively knew they were watching and waiting for the fetchingly clumsy silver clad lady clad loaded with diamonds, to leave the “establishment”.
**
She is mine Angie whispered, possessively snarling the words under her breath. She looked around as she thought about how best to handle the situation. Her eyes opened wide as she saw a familiar woman waiting by the coat checkroom. Perfect she purred, placing an unlit a cigarette in her mouth and heading over the bar.
**
She sauntered up next to them and ordered a drink, catching their eyes she asked for a light. As they obliged she took a pull and puffed out smoke, asking in a casual tone, “how about my jewels? Boys!” They could see perfectly well that she was not wearing any, and one snarled, “What’s your game, sister?” Angie snarled back in her best cop like manner, “We know what you boys are up to, and we suggest you both call it a night!” “Yer no cop sister”, they challenged, calling her bluff,” what’s your angle!” Angie calmly looked towards the entrance, perfect she mused as she saw their eyes follow hers, “Maybe not” she stated, “but see that lady being helped into the black mink?” “The shiny yellow dame?” one of em asked? “ “yes”, Angie replied taking a puff on her cigarette before going on, “ well that man’s she’s with used to be mine .” “ Now, I aint one to hold a grudge, but, those pearls she’s waltzing around with are worth plenty. And her rings, they are an easy two grand alone.”
**
Angie could tell she had captured their interest, and that they were now paying rapt attention to the lady in the thick yellow taffeta gown whose necklace Angie had almost acquired in the serenity garden. One of them looked at Angie, a suspicious look crossing his mug, “What’s innit for you sister?!” He demanded. Angie looked at him, dripping with sarcastic innocence. “Nothing brother, other than to make sure the jewels of the dame who stole my husband get home safely .” “I just worry,’ Angie went on, “there is a park in front of their residence and that dame in yellow likes to stroll through it to smell the roses after their cab drops them off.” They watched the couple leave, her expensive yellow gown sweeping provocatively at her gold high- heeled shoed feet. Angie looked them in the eyes and said smoothly, “ Gentlemen such as yourselves may want to do a good deed and follow them home to make sure some miscreant doesn’t spot her in those valuable jewels and mink. Not to mention her man’s gold watch and three hundred sawbucks in his wallet!” Angie winked at the pair, “If you catch my drift.” She added.
**
Still not totally convinced about what Angie was selling them, but equally unsure over who Angie was, both men got up and quickly headed towards the main exit as the last slip of an expensive yellow taffeta gown disappeared through the door. Smugly, Angie puffed on her cigarette as she watched them leave.
**
It was then that a hand was placed on Angie’s shoulder from behind.
**
She froze for a split second, before becoming aware of the soft mummer of satin, and of a slender finger was home to a sparkling sapphire ring. Angie smiled and turned around, facing the girl. Pardon me ma’am, she says politely, but do you remember me? Of course dear, Angie gushes while beaming at the forlorn looking miss in the fetching blue gown; I met you in the garden. Yes she confirms, but I lost my necklace somewhere and I was wondering if you remember if I had it on when we met? Angie’s heart leapt, bless this babe in the woods, thinking her necklace had merely been lost, never suspecting that someone like, say, Angie could have been the cause. She absolutely adored the trusting nature of rich girls this age. For that aspect of their purity had allowed Angie, far too easily sometimes, to lift many a jewel from well attired unsuspecting young princesses like this one. Who was now standing before her, miserable, her desirable diamond and sapphire earrings dangling ever so beckoningly, her sad puppy eyes pleading ever so sweetly, and her missing necklace closer than she could ever imagine.
**
No dear, I did not see you with a necklace, Angie lied coolly, as she reached out and stroked the girl tenderly alongside her face, her fingers touching one of the earrings. Angie was looking her fully in the eye, you didn’t lose anything else, and did you dear she asked with a concerned tone. The girl checked her earrings, bracelet and ring (Angie smiled to herself, silently thinking thanks for the info kid!) But when she spoke, it was with hopeful words laced with honey, If you want, I can help you look, my dear. The girl’s eyes lit up for a second, thank you ma’am, I wanted to, but papa said to wait until tomorrow when the light is better.
Angie smiled winningly, don’t worry dear, I’m sure its somewhere in the garden. Someone will find it, she promised, thinking to herself maliciously, and keep it for their own profit!
**
Thank you Ma’am she chirped, at the encouraging words that had been spoken, luckily she could not hear the ones Angie was thinking to herself, and turning moved off, her scrumptious gown swishing pleasantly around her silver heels. Angie watched, as the girl disappeared in the crowd Angie marked her direction.
**
Angie Imagined if the girl had accepted her offer, and she had left with the vulnerable, unguarded princess to search in the garden, and in the process help relieve her of her remaining jewels. There would be enough light with the gas lamps that lined the paths in the garden. Enough light, so that as Angie helped the princess look, her fingers could slip ever so delicately slip in and search along her shiny sky blue gown.
**
Angie licked her lips slowly as she fantasied about the search. The girl bending down to look under a bush, Angie placing her knee sharply in a certain spot below the girl’s armpit, temporarily numbing her upper body. Allowing Angie enough time to pull off both her earrings without feeling it,( this also worked well on working off broaches placed in upper parts of gowns and dresses, not to mention necklaces!) The bracelet would be no problem; it would be the easiest and probably the first, snatched off while the rich girl’s attention was easily diverted away. Since she was not wearing silky gloves, her ring would be the trickiest, but manageable, by either having her walk too close to a water fountain and hopefully having her get her fingers wet, or by simple holding onto her hand and tripping her by stepping on her gowns hem. And just like that, Angie would become that much richer, the rich girl that much poorer. And it all would be done without giving the girl any additional stress, like say she had run into the two muggers Angie had chased off. They may not have been content with just the jewels of a girl dressed as she was that they had found wandering alone in the gardens at night.
**
As Angie excitedly thought about these things, she had trained her focus back upon her original meal ticket, whom for the second time that evening had almost been allowed to slip through Angie’s light fingers. Watching with half lidded eyes, the still dancing couple not unlike a wolf watches lambs, waiting for one to make an ill-fated move away from the flock. The lamb’s fate was sealed, when a vivacious blonde in a long wispy silken dress cut in on the dancing couple. Asking miss silver satin’s fiancé for a dance. He obliged, leaving his shimmering fiancée unaccompanied, nakedly exposed to the wolf that was Angie.
**
More than one way to skin a cat Angie thought, tingling from the thrill of the hunt her prey, now in a reachable situation. She happily headed towards the spot where Miss silver satin had moved off to. A small table, located conveniently by a powder room. One the way she grabbed a half full glass of red wine off a table. Angie circled around young miss silver satin, taking a position up about two table lengths behind her. She casually scoured the area; most of the nearby tables were deserted.
Knowing the band would stop playing soon for the evening; most of the couples were out on the dance floor. All in all, the situation presented the perfect opportunity for some one of Angie’s persuasion.
**
Angie watched as the young lady picked up a glittery silver clutch and opening it, started to search inside. Angie moved swiftly, catching up behind her , tripping intentionally into her, splashing some wine onto the front of the silver satin blouse as the unfortunate lady dropped her purse in surprise. Oh my gosh, I did not see you, miss silver satin pleaded apologetically to Angie, more concerned over Angie’s feelings than her soiled satin blouse. Angie accepted her apology and, producing a lacey silk handkerchief, began to wipe themselves both down.
Angie’s practiced eyes swiftly took it all in. Miss silver satin’s pretty earrings swaying out vulnerably from her long straggly hair as it fell into her face. The clasp of her necklace was also exposed and within easy grasp. A s she reached out for the floor to steady herself, Angie’s eyes took in the sparkling ring on her now wetted finger and then watched the wide bracelet with its’ easily open able clasp slip up glitteringly over her sleeve.
The girl, now thoroughly flustered, started to rise, tripping over her slippery long skirt( with no help from Angie) Angie caught her, taking advantage of the split second opening she had been waiting for and Angie took it, making her selection as she steadied the poor thing with one hand, as the other caressed along a slick silver satin back. Angie’s long supple fingers darted in and deftly did their trick, this time with no spiders interfering. She quickly removed her chosen glittery prize from the distracted lady, who never noticed so much as a prick as Angie removed the expensive piece from her person in the confusion.
**
Angie secreted he shiny jewel as she helped miss silver satin collect herself. Than they rose, and Angie happily accepted miss silver satin profuse and obviously well used, apology. Then, as she fumbled nervously with her thick glasses, Angie laid a calming hand upon her shoulder, her fingers relishing in the richness of her victims sleek ruffled blouse. Miss silver satin was by now so distracted and embarrassed that Angie was all but assured of a clean get away.
However, as an extra measure of caution Angie intentionally jarred silver satin’s elbow of the hand steadying her eye glasses. Thus sending her glasses falling from her face to the floor with a small clatter, then Angie kicked them under a table before the startled lady could react. Angie offered to help, but the lady implored that she was okay, just needed to find her glasses. Angie left as Miss silver satin started to frantically grope around for her glasses, her silver blouse and remaining jewels shimmering brightly along their miserable mistress..
Angie took her leave, knowing that once she found her glasses, Miss silver satin would flee for sanctuary into the ladies powder room, buying her more than enough time for Angie to make her escape. Taking one last look over the dance floor, she blithely saw that miss silver satins fiancé was still in the clutches of the vivacious blonde-haired girl, still safely out of the picture. Angie made her way with purpose to the rear exit leading to the garden that she had used earlier, intending to head out into the serenity garden to collect the hidden bracelet and pendent, adding them to her purloined plunder.
**
As she walked amongst the mostly deserted tables, her mind went to the woman in yellow taffeta and imagined that right about now she would be standing with raised arms and a forlorn look. Ruefully wincing as the man who was holding her mink busily stripped those luscious pearls from the neckline of her tight gown, as the shiny yellow material gleamed in the moonlight! Serves her right for being afraid of spiders, Angie thought unforgivingly.
***
Angie’s mind also went to the poor young princess in blue with the missing necklace. She looked towards the area she had headed, opposite of the back exit to the garden. She reluctantly decided not to push her luck, there was a sister and parents to contend with, and she really had no time left. So she decided to call it a day, a rather successful day, and made her way to retrieve her loot.
**
Angie had now reached the now deserted table by the back exit where the lady in the crimson gown and blood red rubies had been earlier, along with her rhinestone encumbered 10 year old daughter and handsome husband.
**
She paused between the table and the bench, something was not quite right, She eyed the area around the dance floor for any signs of trouble that may be centered on the quite valuable jewels now in her possession. All was quiet, except for a little murmur behind her. Turning she looked at the bench and was shocked to discover the soundly asleep ten year old, using the long rusty sable fur as a blanket. What have we here, Angie thought, licking her lips wickedly?
**
Angie pursed her lips, checking the coast; spotting the young girl’s parents, still on the dance floor, a safe distance away the other side of the room. No sign of miss silver satin. No one else was nearby. Perfect. She went over, bending down so the table hid her. The child looked so vulnerably innocent, sound asleep as she lay on her side, facing Angie. She was clutching an arm of the sable like a warm fuzzy teddy bear, her ring sparkling. Angie gently tugged the mink from the girl’s clasp, and gradually pulled until the fur swished away from along the inert silken figure on the bench, where it fell into a pile on the floor. The child looked very innocent, very vulnerable, like a sleeping princess. An earring lay exposed over one shoulder, her necklace dangled down slightly askew from her slender throat, the pin holding her sash, all of which shone brightly now that it was exposed to the low lights of the ballroom, still called out. Too bad, Angie thought to herself, too bad the mother had not dressed her little doll in real diamonds.
**
Angie again looked to the dance floor; she could see the mother’s jewelry twinkling brightly as the child’s parents danced close, very unaware of anything else but themselves. She looked back over the girl, contemplating. But the song was winding down, Angie stooped to pick up the sable, bird in hand she thought, and placing the rich fur over her arm, stood just as the song ended. Looking at the exit door, so near and yet so far, she started to hasten to it, but checked herself as the band immediately started another, rather slow song that Angie knew quite well.
**
She hesitated, incredibly, everyone was staying on the floor for the final dance, she looked back at the bench, and the sleeping imps exposed jewels still shined, tempting her to come for them. Angie knew that she would only have about four minutes. Always open to new challenges, Angie chose to answer that sweet little invite that the necklace was extending out to her. Checking once again to make sure the parents was still obliviously dancing; she laid the mink down by the door and eased back to the bench. Kneeling down, Angie began to perform the delicate operation.
**
Lifting up the necklace she gently tugged it loose from around the sleeping child’s neck until the clasp appeared. She subtly flicked open the clasp, then shamelessly slipped the necklace from around its perch on the little whelp’s throat. It flickered like some slithering shiny snake, glittering as it came away. Like taking candy from a baby, Angie drooled happily, as she let the necklace run along her fingertips while watching the sleeping princess for a few seconds.
**
Her fitted cream coloured dress shimmered with expensive richness in the shadowy light. The poor thing was so soundly asleep after her long exhausting day that Angie figured she could have peeled the dress off her without causing a stir. This for a pickpocket would be the ultimate test, the pinnacle of her criminal class. But, Angie thought; if she ever had the opportunity to do so, it would have to be worth her while, like a shiny gown, an appealing sky blue gown with half sleeves and scooped collar. And the jewels would be sapphire drop earrings, bracelet and ring, not plain rhinestones. She licked her lips at the enticing thought of such a perfect “coup fera”, than told herself to get back to work, time was money.
**
She slipped her hand along the satin cape being used as a pillow and felt under the girls head until she felt the cold earring she was laying upon. Deftly undoing the screw she pulled it free, watching with delight as it came out from underneath.
**
Angie than, gently lifted, and nimbly stroked back the girl’s ultra-soft hair, exposing her long silvery earring. She pulled the jewel out and laid it out upon the child’s shoulder, where it lay, shimmering vibrantly. Then she reached in with her fingers and began unscrewed its clasp. Pulling it free she added it to her growing collection. She next lifted the hand that had held the warm sable, gently prying open her clenched fingers. The sleeping child never stirred. Angie gently slipped off the glittering ring. She then peeled back a silky sleeve, checking for the bracelet, finding her wrist was bare. The rest of the jewels were hiding securely on the side she was laying upon. Smiling wickedly to herself, an idea popped into Angie’s head.
**
The music was now almost to the halfway point, and Angie thought for a brief second that she should leave . Another quick scan assured her the coast was still clear, and Angie decided to press her luck, eagerly going back to work, putting her idea into motion.
Angie fingers felt along the sleeping child’s waist until she located the brooch. Quickly unfastening the brooch from the chocolate satin sash, she pulled it out. Watching as the diamonds caught fire and burst into vibrant life, unusually vivid for plain rhinestones she thought contemplatively. Angie plopping it in with the growing pile of the sleeping girls purloined baubles. Again reaching in along the warm waist, Angie gradually tugged at the now undone sash. The sleeping girl, unconsciously obliged by turning over on her other side, as the sash was pulled away.
**
Her arm with the ring and bracelet was now exposed. Lifting the arm , and peeling back the puffy sleeve, Angie found and unclasped the bracelet, slipping it away, then allowing it to dangle in triumph before letting it join its purloined mates. Then lifting the child’s hand she pulled at the ring, it was a little tight. Angie licked her fingers, and moistened the girls finger, than began slipping the ring off ever so gently from the along her finger. Almost there, Angie thought, as the ring joined its abducted companions in her pocket.
**
As Angie finished pocketing the last of the girls jewels, her victim whimpers something discernible in her sleep, her small hand feeling to pull up the missing warm sable she had been using as a blanket. Angie quickly looked around, spying a cheap linen coat hanging on a nearby hook, she grasped it and laid it over the stirring girl, stroking her for a precious few seconds. Then rising, calmly Angie snatched a shiny purse from the table, and moved off, unbelieving of her luck. She reclaimed the sable fur, and strolled out the door without looking back.
**
As Angie closed the door she heard the last notes of the song waning from inside. She licked her lip, that was close, but her luck had held. Now all that remained was to visit the Cupid Statue In the garden to reclaim her other prizes. As she reached the statue, Angie realized that she still had the child’s satin sash in her hand.
She smiled as she tied it, blindfolding the cupid statues eyes. Retrieving and pocketing the now stone cold diamond bracelet, and the young Princess in blue’s necklace with its shimmering pendent, she slowly looked around, the cost was clear. Angie coolly made her way to the gate, the bored guard offering to help her with the mink she was carrying. , Angie stopped, and handed it to him. Then turning, allowed him to help her on with it. He puffed out his chest as Angie gave him a sweet smile; she thanked him, then turned and disappeared into the darkness of the night.
**
Angie disappeared from view into the foggy evening, relishing the warmth of the sensuous sable. Happily contemplating the small fortune in jewels it had been in contact with earlier that evening, and also the small fortune she had walked out of the reception with in her possession.
**
The guard watched the spot for some time where the pretty lady in the expensive fur had vanished in the mists. He fantasized for a good few minutes, wondered what had been behind the enchantingly secret smile she had given to him.
Excuse me, sir?, a female voice coming from the garden startles him, he had never heard anyone coming.
He turns, catching an eyeful of a long glamourous, brown satin gown, worn fetchingly by a willowy short haired pretty young thing. Diamonds blazed from around her throat, caught by the gas lights, and from around her white satin gloved wrists as she raised her hands in a pleading fashion.
She continues, pointing to a young girl in a smashing blue satin gown, bending over looking for something in the bushes. My sister lost her necklace and pendent while playing around here earlier, did you or anyone find it? She asked in a rather seductive tone of voice9 not a common, it was her regular voice)
No lady, no one turned in a necklace. Thank you sir, and she turns away, her gown flowing out behind her.
He watches for a minute as she and her sister both move elegantly down the path, continuing their search.
He sighed, and turns away, babysitting rich dames he mutters under his breath, what a dismal way to make a living. Why won’t this affair ever end he asked himself, as he reached for his silver pocket watch to check the time. Damnations he said, not finding it nor its chain and fob, must have dropped it in the alley earlier where I had gone for a nipper from his flask. He sauntered off quickly to the alley located in the direction Angie had disappeared, abandoning his post.
Soon after, a pair of dark figures who had been walking on the opposite side of the street, and had stopped to loiter when they spied the guard talking to some posh broad in a shiny brown dress, saw the guard leaving his post. They quickly stole with sinister intent across the road and entered into the gardens, disappearing into the darkness.
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This ended up being Angie’s first big score, She got more for the rhinestone set then she had imagined, the small brooch taken off the brown satin sash had proved to have real diamonds in its center! Also the princess in silky sky blue’s pendent and chain had fetched a nice tidy sum. The jewels lifted from the ladies in Green and Silver also realized quite a handsome profit, as did the sable and purse.
if one includes the real diamond ring slipped off the finger of a silky dressed debutante from the prom show and her rather nice haul of a slim pearl necklace and diamond pin from the Opera, the whole weekend was unimaginably successful.
**
From the profit realized, she had been able to spend a pleasant month away in Monte Carlo, even indulging in the purchase of a rich red wine coloured taffeta gown to wear.
Which she pleasantly found that, when paired with her deftly acquired collection of dripping rhinestone diamond jewelry, she attracted wealthy young males with expensive gold watches and fat wallets like honey bee drones to a bright moss rose.
**
She also enticed a long raven haired, Miss, richly clad in emerald silk, to enter into her snare.
But Angie did not make an entirely clean get away. For the last jewel to be taken was the girl’s brooch , and before Angie could hide it with the rest, the girl spotted its’ glitter in Angie’s hand, and with a gasp had looked down on her dress at the now vacant spot where it had been dangling ever so provocatively for Angie all evening.. Angie smiled at the girl as she had looked up in confusion. The girl had placed a hand to her throat, startled when feeling it bare of her necklace. She looked at Angie in hurt confusion, her eyes wide with fright. Angie placed a finger to the girl’s lips, hushing any fuss she may have been thinking of making over her missing jewelry, and turning her back to the forlorn miss, Angie left, not looking back….
**
But that was a story for another day, so we were promised by Angie, giving us an all too familiar look of devious satisfaction at making us wait.
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Editor’s Notes:
Our Thanks to Mr. J. Gardner for pointing out the existence of Mr. Monescu’s 1826 guide
If you enjoyed our little story, please like and leave a comment.
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Uluwatu Temple is a Hindu temple set on the cliff bank in south part of Bali Peninsula. It is one of Sad Kahyangan Temple in Bali (six big groups of Bali Temples), located in Pecatu Village, Sub district of South Kuta, and Badung Regency or about 25 Km southerly part of Denpasar town. It is situated on the coral reef sordid to sea about 80 meters above the sea level. It is featured by a small dry forest which is mostly called by Alas Kekeran (interdict forest) which is belong to the temple and dwelt by a lot of monkeys and other animal. Name of Uluwatu was come from the word Ulu meaning the head and Watu meaning stone. Therefore Uluwatu Temple mean the temple built in tip of coral reef.
For video, please visit youtu.be/7iZ2Ydesj7Q?list=UULJqdxR1UK1Pzk7FSwTSneg
Case Study 113 : Warning, these are the raw, bare unusual occurrences as originally chronicled. Some names, times, places and some facts have been, of course, altered.
Name: Angelica D circa 192__
Subject: an unscrupulous light-fingered body thief
Event: Posh Wedding Reception
Place: Upstate New York
Time: Warm early Autumn Saturday
Angie Being Receptive
Story line:
Angie had heard about the affair, a wedding, from a list of prospective functions provided by a discreetly paid contact. It was being given for the only daughter of a wealthy politician (as if there were any non-wealthy ones!) Angie had happily invited herself to the affair, carefully dressing up in her best for the special occasion!
**
Wedding receptions were by far Angie’s favorite hunting grounds. During the season there could be anywhere from upwards of 20 high end affaires every weekend in the bigger cities, and always 2 or 3 in even the smallest of towns.
Wedding s were usually easy pickings: free food, drink and entertainment, and seldom worn jewelry made for a ready-made mix for Angie to ply her trade. For Angelica D. was a uniquely skilled pickpocket, specializing in the removal for profit of the expensive jewelry worn by the (usually be -gowned) women and young ladies’ who hauntingly dwelt in societies upper crust!
So Weddings, by their nature, were the desirable choice for Angie. One only had to avoid the Bride, her Bridesmaids, and their court, which were usually the major focus of any security present. However, there were plenty of opportunities to be had by employing her special bag of tricks on the outlaying fringe.
Angie had arrived early at the mammoth facility, to scout out the establishment and to scope out who was wearing what. Used to these affairs either being feast or famine, she could quickly tell that in this one there was cooking up a devouring banquet.
**
After Angie had entered the mammoth reception room it did not take her long to spy her first plump prospect, nicely loaded with possibilities. It was a lady, bearing a haughty look, who had been making a b-line through the crowd as way was parted for her. She was wearing a luxuriously long rusty coloured sable fur coat that hid most of her long crimson -red satin gown. What Jewels were visible, ears, fingers and wrist, were all flashing with pricy fire. In tow she held the hand of a young girl, obviously her daughter, wearing actual makeup, which, along with her fetching gown and brite jewelry, made her appear far older than she was. A handsome man , looking like the actor William Powell in a tux, followed behind the pair, husband and father, Angie presumed. She shadowed the little family as they swished their way to a corner table, conveniently located by a rear exit, for a better look over. Her fingers had started with an all too familiar tingle as she took it all in.
**
The husband helped his wife out of the sable, laying it carefully along a bench against the wall. Angie was not disappointed. A silver necklace of large matched diamonds gracefully encircled her throat. A dazzling blood ruby and diamond brooch held up the center of her gown, positioned just below the bust line. Brooches, like this one, were worth a lot once fenced, but its placement required a little more dexterity and skill than she was willing to risk. In actuality, Angie had only attempted twice before to take a brooch pinned to a gown in this fashion. She had only been successful one of those times, only to find out it was a pretty piece of paste.( Years later, as Angie’s talents became more polished, relieving ladies of their dangling brooches, like this blood ruby, became her specialty.. the Eds.) Angie’s eyes moved on. The rest of the snooty lady’s jewels matched her necklace. Long earrings, free clipped, dangling brightly from her earlobe s. A pair of wide ruby bracelets clasped tightly home around elegant red elbow length satin gloves, sparkled devastatingly, matching her brooch. Her long fingers were home to a pair of ruby and diamond rings and a third ring set with a gold band and a vulgarly large solitaire diamond.
**
Angie’s attention turned to the daughter, whom had been helped by her Father , squirming, from the chocolate coloured satin cape that she had been wearing. The youngster, all of about 10, was wearing a cream coloured long puffy sleeved dress with a brown satin sash encircling her waist that matched her Cape. The young lady possessed impossible large bright eyes. The only thing that held more shine than those doe like eyes had been the antique rhinestone diamond necklace that fell dripping ever so invitingly down the front of the precious little imp’s rich glossy gown. The rest of her matching rhinestones (obviously belonging to the child’s mother) consisted of an engaging display of a bracelet, pair of dangling, screwed on clasp earrings, and matching rings encircling a chubby finger one on each hand. It all gleamed brightly, invitingly from her svelte girlish figure. A large round pin held her sash up in place; it sparkled with what looked like a ring consisting of one caret diamonds, as unlikely as it was they could be real.
**
The two females of the family presented a pretty package indeed. Not one to pass up an invite that alluring, Angie walked by , with the pretext of heading to a back exit behind the table the little family had staked, just so she could get a closer peek.
**
Angie’s practiced eye took in a wealth of information during the few seconds it took her to walk up and pass the group, so involved with themselves they never even looked her way. Her attention focused upon the young mother first scoping head to toe.
**
Angie scrutinized the brooch; it was definitely worth the effort. In her mind’s eye, Angie envisioned the mother as a stumbling drunk “bumping into” Angie. Fingers whisking along the slippery lustrously softness of the gown, as the lady was steadied. Angie would accept the women apologies and the pair would part their ways, Angie from the young mother, and the magnificent brooch from the rich satiny red gown. But then the mother raised her head, looking up past Angie, towards a commotion being made behind her. Typical Angie thought, she doesn’t recognize me, so I don’t exist, like some sort of servant. But it was as she caught the young mother in full profile that she realized this lady looked strikingly similar to another woman who had been wearing an expensive dress of teal charmeuse that Angie had had been having a long conversation with, while relieving the woman’s finger of a costly diamond sapphire ring. It had happened only just last weekend at a formal function, and Angie figured she may have not recognized her in passing, but may if Angie were to use one of her approaches again with the intent of taking some of her jewelry, he memory may be jarred, and she may remember her missing ring. This was why Angie only allowed herself to ply her trade for no more than a month in any given place per year. This was from a lesson she had learned early on in her career. And so, for that reason alone, Angie decided to, at least temporarily, abandon any designs she had on the young mother’s brooch, allowing her devious intentions to evaporate from her mind like smoke on the wind. There were plenty more fish in the sea she told herself.
**
Angie still allowed herself a quick appraisal of the squirming 10 year old. She admired the glossy dress of slippery satin that her mother had conveniently dressed her daughter up in, as it fell spilling down to her black open toed shoes. Angie’s fingers started to tingle; this was a perfect tickling gown. Angie liked to think of any long dress or gown that swept down to a females heels as a” tickling gown”. All it took was a strategically placed foot timed with a well place nudge to send the chosen victim tumbling. During the ensuing diversion, Angie would use her long subtle fingers to swiftly probe along the gowned figure, tickling she like to call it due to the tingling sensation of the usually rich material of the victim’s attire. In this fashion, a pre-targeted piece of valuable jewelry could then be easily acquired, no matter what its placement had been on the unfortunate female. If only the chatty youngster had something on better than rhinestones. It was a crying shame to have a child that young dolled up like an adult, but not wearing adult jewels.
**
Angie continued to walk past, unseen, and went out the door. She found herself in a large serenity garden of roses and shrubs, surrounded by a 10 foot high well-trimmed hedge. The sort of garden one usually found in those days around upscale Churches. The only exit was a gate leading onto the parking lot on the side of the church. Here was positioned a solitary, lonely guard in a neat little guard hut. In the opposite, far corner was a statue of Cupid, arrow drawn, standing above a display of blooming moss roses at the end opposite to the gate. There was always potential in places like these.
**
Angie had started to walk over to the Cupid statue when she heard the exit door open. Turning, she saw the young girl, whose mother’s brooch Angie had been scoping out, looking out the door. She snuck through, running out alone, silky tickling gown swishing out behind her. Her heart leapt to her throat as she watched the girls rhinestones sparkle radiantly. She actually turned to head towards the path the unsuspecting child was running up, flexing her fingers as she contemplating a little warm up practice. Angie watched as the dolled up imps necklace flashed with pinpricks of coloure as it bounced to and fro as she ran happily up the path .Angie turned her back to the girl, waiting to hear the telltale click of her heels come up just behind her. She would then move, bumping into the girl as she passed, tripping her to the ground. After which Angie would help her up, removing the girl’s fancy necklace in the process. Come to Mama Angie whispered under her breath, waiting to make her move as the skipping heels grew ever louder.
**
But then Angie froze, hearing the clicking of the exit door again opening behind her. She checked her stride letting the daughter slither past without a glance. She headed again towards the statue, watching her prize move on ahead. Then she heard the father in the background calling out to his little princess. The youngster turned, and ran back, beaming at Angie as she passed. Angie smiled back, her eyes again traveling to the girls neckline, and the sparkling jewelry the outlined her throat. It had been a silly thought she chided herself, as the girl passed from view. If only the necklace had been real, and the father about ten minutes later in discovering his daughter absence. It would have been an unbelievably easy pluck and she could be out the gate before anyone was the wiser. And the best part was that they would probably believe the scampering girl had just lost it in the garden. And, while the parents were looking about, Angie would have been free to renter to ply her trade again. As it was, it was silly of Angie, risking her opportunity on a child’s bauble worth a mere pittance compared to some of the other offerings so readily being flaunted this evening by her adult counterparts.
**
Angie continued her casual stroll through the Garden, happily playing over in her mind some of the jewels that she would like to see adorning the female guests inside, and the scenarios she may be using to acquire them
**
Finding herself approaching the guard hut, she allowed herself a glance back. Jealously she watched the father, who had caught and was carrying his slippery attired daughter, heading back inside. How Angie wished she had been the one carrying the squirming little imp, it would have been like a smorgasbord, with jewels instead of food. Pity her mother had not put the good stuff on the daughter, she sighed to herself. Tonight she would have to work for her butter. She walked past the bored guard, nodding at him, receiving a rather lecherous look in return. A smile was forming across her cunning face, for now it was time to get down to the real business at hand.
**
The affair turned out to be quite a showcase for the very rich. Who were indiscreetly flaunting their riches, trying to outdo one another, probably for the benefit of the politicians’ attention? Certainly not for the attention of the designer satin gowned and flashy diamonded daughter, whom most of the guests hardly knew, or had ever met.
**
Angie always felt like a little kid in a candy shoppe at these lavish affairs.
She spent the first part of the reception mingling and thoroughly enjoying the show her the reception’s guests were u wittingly putting on. Angie, wearing no jewels herself, was something of an anomaly compared to her fellow guests.
**
There were over a thousand luxuriously coloured, squawking female birds and their young chicks pompously displaying valuable finery, oblivious of the cat amongst them waiting to pounce. Angie patently mingled, watching as the adult guests had their fill of food and drink.
Once their guard began to relax, Angie raised hers’, her probingly skillful fingers now more than prepared to begin and ply her trade. For the more they imbibed, the less guarded they were, both about themselves and their female offspring. Angie would start with the adults, 2 or 3 of the right pieces of jewelry, once acquired, and would mean she could call it a night and have enough to support her for a solid month. If she came up empty in that department, her back up would then center on the female off-spring, daughters and nieces.
Most of said offspring would be by then scattered about, aware that their parents were no longer paying them any heed, exploring and playing, sporting their fancy satin gowns, silken dresses, and their dainty jewelry, ripe for the picking. Giving pickpockets like Angie endless opportunity to ply their trade on them, once they had finished working through the adults. Or if the thieves were beginners, plenty of easy practice while “learning the ropes!”
**
Now, when Angie herself was just starting out as a young pickpocket, she stumbled across a treatise written by a man using the pseudonym “Gaston Monescu”. Written around 1826, entitled the Cutpurse: skilles, artes and Secretes of the Dip, it covered the various tactics and moves used by master pickpockets.
Angie had studied it religiously, especially a ploy called the “Necklace Flimp.” This tactic was primarily used for body thieves working alone. Angie had been surprised to learn that a pickpocket could raise his/her skill level above just acquiring wallets. Having the ability to lift a woman’s necklace amazed her, not to mention the profit that could be realized. With practice, Angie had found that not only was it a good technique for acquiring necklaces, but it worked for other pieces of worn jewelry as well.
It was relatively simple process, but took a long time to master.
First part was to employ psychology and watch the potential victim for the unique movements and quirks in their personality and actions that could provide an opportunity for her skills. Then observe the selected piece the victim wore, for value, type of clasp, make, and accessibility. The second part was to employ a bump, slip, or grasp, and in one motion, flick open the studied clasp and send the piece away from the body by either pulling and palming, or dropping it to the floor or ground for retrieval later. If she was noticed, it was “sorry, miss, very clumsy of me” “here let me get if for you, no harm done?” Then walk away and let the waters settle before trying yet again (sometimes even on the same person!)
Angie had practiced the jewelry flimp until she had the technique totally mastered. Starting out first on specially dressed up mannequins in her apartment, than trying it on small pieces of cheap baubles worn by real women in crowded streets and stores. Then on younger, less guarded, better jewelry wearing young girls attending proms and social dances. Young looking for her age at the time, Angie had fit right in amongst them. Then, finally, she graduated to lifting the better jewels of the older, wealthy women attending society’s finer parties and receptions. And it was this path that led her here today, and would also lead several unlucky females to report missing jewelry to their respective insurance companies.
**
See Album “Angie having a Ball” for additional background on our master thief with the light fingers.
**
Angie now eagerly employed those useful talents learned from monsieur Monescu’s little pamphlet at the wedding reception. She mingled freely, carrying around a drink that never touched her lips. She watched and learned, her trained eyes missing very little. Soon, like that hypothetical kid in a candy shoppe, Angie’s head was spinning from so much to choose from that she really could not make any easy choice. So, she waited and watched patiently, knowing opportunity would knock.
**
Then, like it usually happened with Angie, the first genuine opportunity unexpectedly presented herself. Angie literally was run into a rather awkward, spindly lady in thick glasses clad in a fetchingly expensive costume consisting of a thick silver satin blouse with hanging ruffles down its front, combined with a long rustling tiered skirt that swept down to the top of her open toed silver high heels. Her diamond jewelry shone with exuberant flames as they caught the light from the many chandeliers that hung from the vaulted ceiling. The lady expressed frantically her apologies, placing a hand with well ringed fingers on Angie’s shoulder, where they sparkled merrily. No worries Angie said smiling, her eyes taking it all in without appearing to move. She let the frazzled lady leave, allowing her a head start, it was only sporting to do so.
**
Angie shadowed her quarry for a while, seemingly rewarded for her efforts when the lady managed to spill a bit of her drink down on her skirt. In a show of flashing silvery satin and diamonds ,she retreated and disappeared into a nearby powder room, with Angie following eagerly, opportunity knocking.
**
As Angie grabbed onto the closing powder room door, a mid- twenty something girl in a deep green velvet gown came out. Her only jewelry was a wide diamond bracelet wrapped around a wrist of the matching long green gloves she wore. Angie caught it out of the corner of her eye, realizing that it was as expensive as it was bright. But it was her friend, a willowy short haired pretty young thing in a glamorous Chocolate Satin gown that made Angie’s jaw drop. Her jewels, like her friends, were also sparse, but enormously pricy. The long white satin gloves that graced her hands and arms also held matching bracelets, thin, but each one worth the effort. But her real eye catcher was the row of authentic, one caret white diamonds that were rippling exquisite fire along her throat. Angie held the door for them, nodding to as they passed. Noses in the air, they did not appear to notice Angie. Then, with the ladies backs to her, Angie abandoned Miss silver satin and turned to follow. Angie got in behind the two with the intention of getting a closure examination of the clasp of the fiery diamond necklace Miss Chocolate satin was wearing.
**
However, Angie never got her closer look. For at that moment the tossing of the bride’s boutique was announced and Angie was overwhelmed by a mad dash of single ladies heading for the bride. On a lark she allowed herself to be swept along, losing sight of Miss Chocolate satin, but found herself right smack behind Miss Green velvet and her cheerfully sparkling diamond bracelet, a beautifully expensive piece that would have cost someone a king’s ransom. Angie’s fingers began their all too familiar tingling, eager for a chance to acquire jewelry that valuable, but not for any king, just for herself!
**
Though the night was still relatively early, and Angie still had visions of those exquisite rippling diamonds of the pretty Miss in chocolate satin on her mind, she simply could not pass up this opportunity. Angie wedged herself close behind her chosen victim as the multitude of hopeful young women pressed forward to try their luck. As the Bride teased her guests before getting ready to toss her bouquet of white and red roses, Angie expertly scrutinized the bracelet as it dangled from the green velvet glove. When the bride finally turned her back and raised her arms every one of the richly clad single women’s eyes was focused on the bride’s bouquet, Angie’s eyes were fixated on the bracelet. With the music playing loud, the crowd giggling and laughing, and all eyes focused on the gorgeously outfitted young long haired bride, Angie again felt opportunity knocking. Her pulse beating in rhythm with the music, she made ready to seize the chance when it presented itself. The roses flew through the air and all the women raised their hands high, looking all for the world like being involved in a stick-up. Angie timed it perfectly, snapping the clasp, and snatching the bracelet easily away from the gloved wrist of its owner as she raised her arms high to grab at the boutique. In her excitement, shared by everyone, Miss Green velvet ( who did not catch the bouget of roses) never felt a thing. Angie had smirked as she left the giggling group, stowing securely the purloined diamonds, as she imagined what it would have been like to watch that group robbed in a mass stick-up. The money that some enterprising soul could have made from that haul would have been astronomical.
**
She went to the open bar, lighting her first cigarette; she ordered her first real drink of the night. She could feel the coolness of the weighty bracelet in its hiding spot, and Angie, pleased with herself, calmly sipped her drink as she relished in the moment. The toss of the Brides Boutique was, in Angie’s experienced opinion, one of the three common events occurring during a wedding reception that were fertilely prime times for pickpocketing. (Editor’s note.. Miss D. mysteriously never divulged what she considered the other two prime events to be….)
**
She looked about without a worry in the world, coolly watching the antics of some of the younger women on the dance floor. She spied the young miss in the green velvet gown over in a corner talking in an animated fashion with several other women. Green velvet gown’s now bare velvet glove, apparently not noticed by anyone but Angie. One of her group was displaying some bright emeralds peeking through the long silver fur she was wearing, obviously she was leaving, and she was talking excitedly about something to the group formed around her! Nowhere in sight was Miss chocolate satin, too bad, Angie would have loved another peek before leaving.
Angie watched around the room causally, as the cold bracelet pressed expensively against her figure from its hiding spot. She eventually lost track of green velvet and her friends while finishing her drink. Setting down the empty glass, she decided it was time to call it a night. The bracelet now in her possession was easily worth as much as the 2 or 3 separate pieces she usually acquired at functions like these, added together! And, she needed her rest, Angie had a couple of plans the next day, one revolving around the female guests who would be attending an upscale afternoon prom fashion show a, the other, an evening opera performance (invited guests only, and her contact had managed to supply a ticket, at a hefty price!) No rest for the wicked, Angie told herself.
**
On her way out of the main lobby, she found herself leaving behind the very lady in green velvet whose bracelet was now in Angie’s possession. She was with the same gaggle of her similarly dressed friends, including the one exhibiting the emeralds. However, miss chocolate satin was still not visible. They were laughing and joking as they collected their assorted pretty wraps, obviously heading for a nightclub. If she had not already relieved one of them of a bauble, Angie might have invited herself along, if only to have a go at some emeralds. Angie hesitated about leaving withy them, then shrugged, followed the group out the door past the pair of bored rent a cops.
**
She remembered thinking, as she followed the elegant young princesses ,their fluid gowns peeking from under their various furs and wraps, how shallow the very rich could be. She wondered if Miss Green velvets friends had even noticed that she had had diamonds around the wrist of her glove, let alone that they were now missing. She wondered how long it would be before the bracelets loss was discovered. She figured it would be several hours, long enough for its owner not to be sure what place they had been lost. As young Miss Green velvet fancy gown and her friends turned right outside the exit, Angie turned left, heading towards the guard hut at the entrance to the garden.
She decided not to follow them but rather circle around the outside of the garden to give her victim time to leave.
**
That simple decision to make a left turn proved to be a major turning point in Angie’s fortunes that evening.
**
As Angie passed the hut guarding the entrance to the serenity garden, she noticed it was deserted.
It was as she was looking it over, that she heard the sounds of clicking heels moving fast, followed by the sounds of a young girl giggling. On the alert she stole to the backside of the hut, soon spying a splash of something blue and silky between the gaps of a couple of large bushes. Her senses on their highest peak, she began to move cautiously in, hoping the female making the noise would be in need of aid and comfort perhaps.
**
She soon spotted a young lady of about 14 bending over, hands on her knees as she panted heavily. Her back was to Angie, and what pretty back it was. She was nicely attired in a long gown of shiny material dyed deep blue like an afternoon, cloudless summer sky. The gown cascaded down along her petite figure, spilling out on the ground around her feet. Her hair was pulled back, easily displaying a pair of small diamond and sapphire earrings, not rhinestones for this one, but the real McCoy. Around one finger was a gold ring with sapphires, and from her left wrist dangled a thin silver bracelet with a row of diamond chips, both pretty, both valuably real. But it was her last piece of visible jewelry that stole the show. It hung, swinging to and from her neck on a thick braided chain of solid silver. On its end, like a hypnotists prism, was a silver pendent in the shape of a flower, with 1 inch long, pear shaped real diamonds as petals and a fully 2 inch in circumference center stone of deep sea blue. Angie watched it, her eyes following it for a full minute, its expensive fire sealing its own fate as Angie began flexing her fingers. Angie took her eyes off of it and looked around to see why the princess had been running. But all was still as the girl continued to peek through the branches towards the back door leading into the hall. Angie silently approached, and walking up to the pretty miss she bent down and in a friendly tone, asked who she was running from.
**
I played a joke on my sister, and now I’m hiding from her, piped the girl breathlessly, as Angie placed a hand upon the girls shoulder in a conspiratorial fashion, said shoulder made silky soft by the gowns half sleeve.
**
I know a better place where you can hide from her, Angie whispered in the girl’s ear, the dangling earring ever so close to her lips. The girl looked up, smiling, and Angie pointed towards the guard hut, and as the girl looked, Angie’s fingers glided up along the silky shoulder and lifted the thick silver chain up from the back of the gowns’ scooped collar. Come Angie said, and as the girl rose Angie’s fingers nimbly flicked open the chains’ lobster clasp, holding onto the clasp as the other end of the chain slipped down, allowing the pendent to slide free and fall onto the grass at the girls feet, where it lay shimmering. Angie moved her hand to the girls shoulder, squeezing it, while slipping off the braided silver chain with her other hand, whisking it back and away from the guileless young girl. Angie led her princess away from the spot and walked with her to the guard’s hut, still empty, where she had her hide neath the counter.
**
Angie turned and went back to claim the pendent, there still was no sign of any sister. She secured the pendent, joining it with the chain and bracelet, and headed deeper into garden. Her plan was to watch the hut and see which way the girl went after getting bored waiting. But as she skirted the perimeter her plans were changed when, upon rounding a corner of the path at the far end, she saw yet another back belonging to a solitary lady in her late thirties, clad in a long slinky yellow coloured gown of expensively shiny taffeta, bending over to smell the yellow roses on a bush. Instinctively Angie knew two things about her. One was that whatever jewels this lady would be wearing, they would be expensive, and the other was that with an expensive gown like that; the lady would undoubtedly be wearing her jewels. Angie suddenly became aware that her fingers were tingling, as an all too familiar whelming feeling again delightfully washed over her.
**
Angie found herself automatically turning back onto the garden path. She headed around the women and went down to the cupid’s statue, where now out of sight, she carefully hid the purloined bracelet, and still warm fiery pendent and its ‘fancy silvery braided chain..
**
She then headed towards the unsuspecting flower admirer. The ladies’ long brunette hair had fallen, flowing down the backside of her shiny taffeta gown. Angie could see rings and a bracelet gleaming as she was holding up the rose to her face. A long double rope of pearls hung swaying deliciously from her throat. Coming up behind her Angie stood watching; calculating until the lady rose and with a start realized she was not alone.
**
Pretty Angie said, her eyes on the pearls now draping down the front of her marks yellow gown. They are lovely, are they not? The damsel responded thinking Angie was referring to the roses. Just like the ones in the park, my husband and I walked through on our way to catch a cab today. Actually, I meant your dress Angie said complimentary. Thank you the lady practically squealed, I love the way it flows, and she swirled it about to show Angie, who got an eyeful of sparkly jewelry for her efforts. As she continued engaging the women in conversation, Angie decided upon attempting for the woman’s necklace of pearl. Seeing opportunity knocking when Yellow Taffeta pulled her long hair forward so it hang down the front of her gorgeous gown, laying silkily over one shoulder, nicely exposing the pricy necklaces clasp. Angie looked around, they were alone, out of site of the opposite end of the garden where the inside door was, and the guards hut with it’s pretty occupant.
**
Angie, using the marks interest in roses to her advantage, managed to steer the capricious damsel in shiny yellow over to the cupid’s statue. There, she placed a hand upon a silky taffeta covered shoulder, and pointed down to the shrub of moss roses growing at the foot of the statue . When she stooped down to get a closer look, Angie’s fingers whisked from her marks shoulder to the clasp, in a single effort with two fingers, lifted it by the clasp, and snapped it open. At that moment the mark cried “spider” and jumped up, backing into Angie, who watched helplessly as the pearls fell down from the damsel’s throat and slipped along the front of the yellow taffeta gown. They fell with a soft plop unto the ground at their mistress’s feet. Angie tried to lead her away, hoping to come back and reclaim the necklace. But as Angie pointed to another rose bush some distance away, the lady took a step forward, instead of back, planting her feet right onto the pearl necklace. Hey she exclaiming, what’s that, looking down to her high heeled foot? Oh, my pearls the lady squealed again, a glittering hand shooting to feel around her throat. Angie reached down, and reluctantly retrieved them from the base of the rose bush for the squealing lady in yellow . My husband would not have been pleased if I had lost these, she said as Angie held them, feeling their pricey smoothness.
**
She asked if Angie could help her put them on, my maid usually does this sort of thing, you know. Angie reluctantly complied, re- hanging the pearls as the pretty damsel held up her hair, and reluctantly redid the clasp. The Damsel thanked Angie by embracing her in a full hug, her diamond and pearl earring hitting Angie’s cheek. But Angie’s arms were being held by the hugging woman, so Angie was able to only watch the tantalizingly close earring sway free. Angie left yellow-gowned damsel in the garden, getting nothing for her efforts other than the feel of an expensive gown of the likes she could probably never afford to own.
**
With the pretty damsel hovering around the cupid statue, Angie decided to go back into the reception hall until the coast was clear. She carefully looked towards the Guards hut, and seeing that the guard had returned, figured the girl, so fetchingly clad in blue, had been rousted out, so that loose end was probably tied up. She just had to keep a careful eye out. The quite valuable bracelet and pricy necklace with its pendent were well hidden; there was absolutely no danger of someone stumbling over it.
**
Truth was, Angie had found her appetite wetted and once again visions of a lady in chocolate brown satin exhibiting a row of flashy diamonds, teased her thoughts. An accomplished pickpocket like herself had a couple of well-practiced ploys she could utilize to obtain a tight fitting necklace from its mistress. In addition, Angie was now determined to find her and to risk a try. She had really nothing to lose.
**
It took almost an hour of hunting amongst the now well liquored, gaily mingling crowd before Angie could admit to herself that there was absolutely no sign of the willowy lady in the stunning chocolate satin gown. Damn she thought to herself, those diamonds were something special. She shrugged it off, reciting in her mind a wicked little mantra of hers, “Another one who got away, a chance to lose her jewels to Angie on another day!” She strolled about pondering on what her next course of action could be. There had been no sign of the pretty girl in blue whose necklace Angie now had hidden away, and Miss Green Velvet was definitely out of the picture, so she felt that it was still safe to try to pluck one last bird or chick. In her hunt for the brown, Angie had seen several inviting prospects; one lady(purple satin, diamonds), two girls( ivory silk, pearled pin; red satin, gold necklace set with chips of precious stones), and now was weighing the risks.
It was at that point she once again espied the thickly bespectacled awkwardly introverted young lady invitingly wearing the thick silver satin ruffled blouse, which she had been tailing much earlier. And as Angie watched here, she again accepted the invitation. Her prey had appeared on the dance floor, being led around by a rather charming young man. That would make a dandy consolation prize Angie drooled to herself happily as she took in the sparkling show put on by the dancers jewels.
**
Angie looked her over, reacquainting herself with the jewels she so nicely was displaying. A pair of long earrings cascaded down from her earlobes where they precariously held on by antique silver claps. Angie relished the opportunity to “flimp” pairs of earrings like these. Heavily jeweled, each one was worth a tidy sum. Angie mulled this as she continued to study the jewels of her appealingly dressed new target.
**
The girl’s only ring was a solitaire diamond of at least 3 carets on a thick solid gold band worn vulnerably loose on her un-gloved, bare ring finger. A wide silver cuff bracelet with what appeared to be at least seven rows of matching, shimmering diamonds was dangling around her left wrist (she was right handed Angie observed) . The bracelet had a habit of lying over her sleeve, and Angie could see that it was a costly tiffany piece, whose clasp was exceptionally easy to flick open. A diamond pendent hung swinging from her satiny ruffles, held by an extravagantly thick silver chain with a simple , small eye in hook clasp. The Diamonds in the pendent were as shimmery as stars plucked from the night’s sky.
Angie remembered reading that in a poem from a book she had picked up years earlier in a library, while stalking a young mother in a satin dress, wearing an authentic Gruen Watch on one wrist, and a bracelet of diamonds on the other, that had gone into the library in pursuit of her young son running inside. Like that young mother, It was obvious that this lady in silver satin was not accustomed to wearing jewels, and that set probably spent most of their days lying in a safe. Angie licked her lips as she imagined what the other contents of that safe might look like
**
Angie moved in to allow herself a much closer appraisal of her potential victim’s jewels.
The young lady was totally oblivious to anything but the rather surprisingly strikingly handsome man who to all appearances was her Fiancée, who was holding her ever so close. But Angie was able to see enough of what she wanted to. The young Ladies’ thick satin blouse shone richly in the lights, moving like glistening wet liquid silver, while from her waist spilled the long black skirt with satiny tiers that swished and swayed nicely along her figure as she uneasily danced. Her jewels were bursting with colour as they played hide and seek with Angie’s watchful eyes. From all appearances, they were a mismatched couple. He seemed to know everyone and moved with a confident air, she was just the opposite. It made an enticingly intriguing package indeed for someone with Angie’s skills.
**
Silver Satin was the perfect “Gaston Monescu” type of mark, a perfect combination of classic mannerisms, clothing and Jewels worth anyone’s efforts to take. This was the only fly in the ointment that Angie observed. For by the bar she could see that two other sets of eyes were watching the same young lady in shiny satin and blazing diamonds. Angie intuitively knew they were drooling over acquiring jewels she was wearing.
**
She had noticed the pair of young men in loose fitting suits when they had entered a little earlier about the same time as Angie’s reappearance. They were obviously casing the jewels of any woman, young, or old, who walked past them. Angie knew their type, simple thieves, with no real skills outside of holding a knife in a dark alley to the throat of their victim while they unceremoniously searched and stripped them of their treasures. Angie saw that they were whispering amongst themselves and instinctively knew they were watching and waiting for the fetchingly clumsy silver clad lady clad loaded with diamonds, to leave the “establishment”.
**
She is mine Angie whispered, possessively snarling the words under her breath. She looked around as she thought about how best to handle the situation. Her eyes opened wide as she saw a familiar woman waiting by the coat checkroom. Perfect she purred, placing an unlit a cigarette in her mouth and heading over the bar.
**
She sauntered up next to them and ordered a drink, catching their eyes she asked for a light. As they obliged she took a pull and puffed out smoke, asking in a casual tone, “how about my jewels? Boys!” They could see perfectly well that she was not wearing any, and one snarled, “What’s your game, sister?” Angie snarled back in her best cop like manner, “We know what you boys are up to, and we suggest you both call it a night!” “Yer no cop sister”, they challenged, calling her bluff,” what’s your angle!” Angie calmly looked towards the entrance, perfect she mused as she saw their eyes follow hers, “Maybe not” she stated, “but see that lady being helped into the black mink?” “The shiny yellow dame?” one of em asked? “ “yes”, Angie replied taking a puff on her cigarette before going on, “ well that man’s she’s with used to be mine .” “ Now, I aint one to hold a grudge, but, those pearls she’s waltzing around with are worth plenty. And her rings, they are an easy two grand alone.”
**
Angie could tell she had captured their interest, and that they were now paying rapt attention to the lady in the thick yellow taffeta gown whose necklace Angie had almost acquired in the serenity garden. One of them looked at Angie, a suspicious look crossing his mug, “What’s innit for you sister?!” He demanded. Angie looked at him, dripping with sarcastic innocence. “Nothing brother, other than to make sure the jewels of the dame who stole my husband get home safely .” “I just worry,’ Angie went on, “there is a park in front of their residence and that dame in yellow likes to stroll through it to smell the roses after their cab drops them off.” They watched the couple leave, her expensive yellow gown sweeping provocatively at her gold high- heeled shoed feet. Angie looked them in the eyes and said smoothly, “ Gentlemen such as yourselves may want to do a good deed and follow them home to make sure some miscreant doesn’t spot her in those valuable jewels and mink. Not to mention her man’s gold watch and three hundred sawbucks in his wallet!” Angie winked at the pair, “If you catch my drift.” She added.
**
Still not totally convinced about what Angie was selling them, but equally unsure over who Angie was, both men got up and quickly headed towards the main exit as the last slip of an expensive yellow taffeta gown disappeared through the door. Smugly, Angie puffed on her cigarette as she watched them leave.
**
It was then that a hand was placed on Angie’s shoulder from behind.
**
She froze for a split second, before becoming aware of the soft mummer of satin, and of a slender finger was home to a sparkling sapphire ring. Angie smiled and turned around, facing the girl. Pardon me ma’am, she says politely, but do you remember me? Of course dear, Angie gushes while beaming at the forlorn looking miss in the fetching blue gown; I met you in the garden. Yes she confirms, but I lost my necklace somewhere and I was wondering if you remember if I had it on when we met? Angie’s heart leapt, bless this babe in the woods, thinking her necklace had merely been lost, never suspecting that someone like, say, Angie could have been the cause. She absolutely adored the trusting nature of rich girls this age. For that aspect of their purity had allowed Angie, far too easily sometimes, to lift many a jewel from well attired unsuspecting young princesses like this one. Who was now standing before her, miserable, her desirable diamond and sapphire earrings dangling ever so beckoningly, her sad puppy eyes pleading ever so sweetly, and her missing necklace closer than she could ever imagine.
**
No dear, I did not see you with a necklace, Angie lied coolly, as she reached out and stroked the girl tenderly alongside her face, her fingers touching one of the earrings. Angie was looking her fully in the eye, you didn’t lose anything else, and did you dear she asked with a concerned tone. The girl checked her earrings, bracelet and ring (Angie smiled to herself, silently thinking thanks for the info kid!) But when she spoke, it was with hopeful words laced with honey, If you want, I can help you look, my dear. The girl’s eyes lit up for a second, thank you ma’am, I wanted to, but papa said to wait until tomorrow when the light is better.
Angie smiled winningly, don’t worry dear, I’m sure its somewhere in the garden. Someone will find it, she promised, thinking to herself maliciously, and keep it for their own profit!
**
Thank you Ma’am she chirped, at the encouraging words that had been spoken, luckily she could not hear the ones Angie was thinking to herself, and turning moved off, her scrumptious gown swishing pleasantly around her silver heels. Angie watched, as the girl disappeared in the crowd Angie marked her direction.
**
Angie Imagined if the girl had accepted her offer, and she had left with the vulnerable, unguarded princess to search in the garden, and in the process help relieve her of her remaining jewels. There would be enough light with the gas lamps that lined the paths in the garden. Enough light, so that as Angie helped the princess look, her fingers could slip ever so delicately slip in and search along her shiny sky blue gown.
**
Angie licked her lips slowly as she fantasied about the search. The girl bending down to look under a bush, Angie placing her knee sharply in a certain spot below the girl’s armpit, temporarily numbing her upper body. Allowing Angie enough time to pull off both her earrings without feeling it,( this also worked well on working off broaches placed in upper parts of gowns and dresses, not to mention necklaces!) The bracelet would be no problem; it would be the easiest and probably the first, snatched off while the rich girl’s attention was easily diverted away. Since she was not wearing silky gloves, her ring would be the trickiest, but manageable, by either having her walk too close to a water fountain and hopefully having her get her fingers wet, or by simple holding onto her hand and tripping her by stepping on her gowns hem. And just like that, Angie would become that much richer, the rich girl that much poorer. And it all would be done without giving the girl any additional stress, like say she had run into the two muggers Angie had chased off. They may not have been content with just the jewels of a girl dressed as she was that they had found wandering alone in the gardens at night.
**
As Angie excitedly thought about these things, she had trained her focus back upon her original meal ticket, whom for the second time that evening had almost been allowed to slip through Angie’s light fingers. Watching with half lidded eyes, the still dancing couple not unlike a wolf watches lambs, waiting for one to make an ill-fated move away from the flock. The lamb’s fate was sealed, when a vivacious blonde in a long wispy silken dress cut in on the dancing couple. Asking miss silver satin’s fiancé for a dance. He obliged, leaving his shimmering fiancée unaccompanied, nakedly exposed to the wolf that was Angie.
**
More than one way to skin a cat Angie thought, tingling from the thrill of the hunt her prey, now in a reachable situation. She happily headed towards the spot where Miss silver satin had moved off to. A small table, located conveniently by a powder room. One the way she grabbed a half full glass of red wine off a table. Angie circled around young miss silver satin, taking a position up about two table lengths behind her. She casually scoured the area; most of the nearby tables were deserted.
Knowing the band would stop playing soon for the evening; most of the couples were out on the dance floor. All in all, the situation presented the perfect opportunity for some one of Angie’s persuasion.
**
Angie watched as the young lady picked up a glittery silver clutch and opening it, started to search inside. Angie moved swiftly, catching up behind her , tripping intentionally into her, splashing some wine onto the front of the silver satin blouse as the unfortunate lady dropped her purse in surprise. Oh my gosh, I did not see you, miss silver satin pleaded apologetically to Angie, more concerned over Angie’s feelings than her soiled satin blouse. Angie accepted her apology and, producing a lacey silk handkerchief, began to wipe themselves both down.
Angie’s practiced eyes swiftly took it all in. Miss silver satin’s pretty earrings swaying out vulnerably from her long straggly hair as it fell into her face. The clasp of her necklace was also exposed and within easy grasp. A s she reached out for the floor to steady herself, Angie’s eyes took in the sparkling ring on her now wetted finger and then watched the wide bracelet with its’ easily open able clasp slip up glitteringly over her sleeve.
The girl, now thoroughly flustered, started to rise, tripping over her slippery long skirt( with no help from Angie) Angie caught her, taking advantage of the split second opening she had been waiting for and Angie took it, making her selection as she steadied the poor thing with one hand, as the other caressed along a slick silver satin back. Angie’s long supple fingers darted in and deftly did their trick, this time with no spiders interfering. She quickly removed her chosen glittery prize from the distracted lady, who never noticed so much as a prick as Angie removed the expensive piece from her person in the confusion.
**
Angie secreted he shiny jewel as she helped miss silver satin collect herself. Than they rose, and Angie happily accepted miss silver satin profuse and obviously well used, apology. Then, as she fumbled nervously with her thick glasses, Angie laid a calming hand upon her shoulder, her fingers relishing in the richness of her victims sleek ruffled blouse. Miss silver satin was by now so distracted and embarrassed that Angie was all but assured of a clean get away.
However, as an extra measure of caution Angie intentionally jarred silver satin’s elbow of the hand steadying her eye glasses. Thus sending her glasses falling from her face to the floor with a small clatter, then Angie kicked them under a table before the startled lady could react. Angie offered to help, but the lady implored that she was okay, just needed to find her glasses. Angie left as Miss silver satin started to frantically grope around for her glasses, her silver blouse and remaining jewels shimmering brightly along their miserable mistress..
Angie took her leave, knowing that once she found her glasses, Miss silver satin would flee for sanctuary into the ladies powder room, buying her more than enough time for Angie to make her escape. Taking one last look over the dance floor, she blithely saw that miss silver satins fiancé was still in the clutches of the vivacious blonde-haired girl, still safely out of the picture. Angie made her way with purpose to the rear exit leading to the garden that she had used earlier, intending to head out into the serenity garden to collect the hidden bracelet and pendent, adding them to her purloined plunder.
**
As she walked amongst the mostly deserted tables, her mind went to the woman in yellow taffeta and imagined that right about now she would be standing with raised arms and a forlorn look. Ruefully wincing as the man who was holding her mink busily stripped those luscious pearls from the neckline of her tight gown, as the shiny yellow material gleamed in the moonlight! Serves her right for being afraid of spiders, Angie thought unforgivingly.
***
Angie’s mind also went to the poor young princess in blue with the missing necklace. She looked towards the area she had headed, opposite of the back exit to the garden. She reluctantly decided not to push her luck, there was a sister and parents to contend with, and she really had no time left. So she decided to call it a day, a rather successful day, and made her way to retrieve her loot.
**
Angie had now reached the now deserted table by the back exit where the lady in the crimson gown and blood red rubies had been earlier, along with her rhinestone encumbered 10 year old daughter and handsome husband.
**
She paused between the table and the bench, something was not quite right, She eyed the area around the dance floor for any signs of trouble that may be centered on the quite valuable jewels now in her possession. All was quiet, except for a little murmur behind her. Turning she looked at the bench and was shocked to discover the soundly asleep ten year old, using the long rusty sable fur as a blanket. What have we here, Angie thought, licking her lips wickedly?
**
Angie pursed her lips, checking the coast; spotting the young girl’s parents, still on the dance floor, a safe distance away the other side of the room. No sign of miss silver satin. No one else was nearby. Perfect. She went over, bending down so the table hid her. The child looked so vulnerably innocent, sound asleep as she lay on her side, facing Angie. She was clutching an arm of the sable like a warm fuzzy teddy bear, her ring sparkling. Angie gently tugged the mink from the girl’s clasp, and gradually pulled until the fur swished away from along the inert silken figure on the bench, where it fell into a pile on the floor. The child looked very innocent, very vulnerable, like a sleeping princess. An earring lay exposed over one shoulder, her necklace dangled down slightly askew from her slender throat, the pin holding her sash, all of which shone brightly now that it was exposed to the low lights of the ballroom, still called out. Too bad, Angie thought to herself, too bad the mother had not dressed her little doll in real diamonds.
**
Angie again looked to the dance floor; she could see the mother’s jewelry twinkling brightly as the child’s parents danced close, very unaware of anything else but themselves. She looked back over the girl, contemplating. But the song was winding down, Angie stooped to pick up the sable, bird in hand she thought, and placing the rich fur over her arm, stood just as the song ended. Looking at the exit door, so near and yet so far, she started to hasten to it, but checked herself as the band immediately started another, rather slow song that Angie knew quite well.
**
She hesitated, incredibly, everyone was staying on the floor for the final dance, she looked back at the bench, and the sleeping imps exposed jewels still shined, tempting her to come for them. Angie knew that she would only have about four minutes. Always open to new challenges, Angie chose to answer that sweet little invite that the necklace was extending out to her. Checking once again to make sure the parents was still obliviously dancing; she laid the mink down by the door and eased back to the bench. Kneeling down, Angie began to perform the delicate operation.
**
Lifting up the necklace she gently tugged it loose from around the sleeping child’s neck until the clasp appeared. She subtly flicked open the clasp, then shamelessly slipped the necklace from around its perch on the little whelp’s throat. It flickered like some slithering shiny snake, glittering as it came away. Like taking candy from a baby, Angie drooled happily, as she let the necklace run along her fingertips while watching the sleeping princess for a few seconds.
**
Her fitted cream coloured dress shimmered with expensive richness in the shadowy light. The poor thing was so soundly asleep after her long exhausting day that Angie figured she could have peeled the dress off her without causing a stir. This for a pickpocket would be the ultimate test, the pinnacle of her criminal class. But, Angie thought; if she ever had the opportunity to do so, it would have to be worth her while, like a shiny gown, an appealing sky blue gown with half sleeves and scooped collar. And the jewels would be sapphire drop earrings, bracelet and ring, not plain rhinestones. She licked her lips at the enticing thought of such a perfect “coup fera”, than told herself to get back to work, time was money.
**
She slipped her hand along the satin cape being used as a pillow and felt under the girls head until she felt the cold earring she was laying upon. Deftly undoing the screw she pulled it free, watching with delight as it came out from underneath.
**
Angie than, gently lifted, and nimbly stroked back the girl’s ultra-soft hair, exposing her long silvery earring. She pulled the jewel out and laid it out upon the child’s shoulder, where it lay, shimmering vibrantly. Then she reached in with her fingers and began unscrewed its clasp. Pulling it free she added it to her growing collection. She next lifted the hand that had held the warm sable, gently prying open her clenched fingers. The sleeping child never stirred. Angie gently slipped off the glittering ring. She then peeled back a silky sleeve, checking for the bracelet, finding her wrist was bare. The rest of the jewels were hiding securely on the side she was laying upon. Smiling wickedly to herself, an idea popped into Angie’s head.
**
The music was now almost to the halfway point, and Angie thought for a brief second that she should leave . Another quick scan assured her the coast was still clear, and Angie decided to press her luck, eagerly going back to work, putting her idea into motion.
Angie fingers felt along the sleeping child’s waist until she located the brooch. Quickly unfastening the brooch from the chocolate satin sash, she pulled it out. Watching as the diamonds caught fire and burst into vibrant life, unusually vivid for plain rhinestones she thought contemplatively. Angie plopping it in with the growing pile of the sleeping girls purloined baubles. Again reaching in along the warm waist, Angie gradually tugged at the now undone sash. The sleeping girl, unconsciously obliged by turning over on her other side, as the sash was pulled away.
**
Her arm with the ring and bracelet was now exposed. Lifting the arm , and peeling back the puffy sleeve, Angie found and unclasped the bracelet, slipping it away, then allowing it to dangle in triumph before letting it join its purloined mates. Then lifting the child’s hand she pulled at the ring, it was a little tight. Angie licked her fingers, and moistened the girls finger, than began slipping the ring off ever so gently from the along her finger. Almost there, Angie thought, as the ring joined its abducted companions in her pocket.
**
As Angie finished pocketing the last of the girls jewels, her victim whimpers something discernible in her sleep, her small hand feeling to pull up the missing warm sable she had been using as a blanket. Angie quickly looked around, spying a cheap linen coat hanging on a nearby hook, she grasped it and laid it over the stirring girl, stroking her for a precious few seconds. Then rising, calmly Angie snatched a shiny purse from the table, and moved off, unbelieving of her luck. She reclaimed the sable fur, and strolled out the door without looking back.
**
As Angie closed the door she heard the last notes of the song waning from inside. She licked her lip, that was close, but her luck had held. Now all that remained was to visit the Cupid Statue In the garden to reclaim her other prizes. As she reached the statue, Angie realized that she still had the child’s satin sash in her hand.
She smiled as she tied it, blindfolding the cupid statues eyes. Retrieving and pocketing the now stone cold diamond bracelet, and the young Princess in blue’s necklace with its shimmering pendent, she slowly looked around, the cost was clear. Angie coolly made her way to the gate, the bored guard offering to help her with the mink she was carrying. , Angie stopped, and handed it to him. Then turning, allowed him to help her on with it. He puffed out his chest as Angie gave him a sweet smile; she thanked him, then turned and disappeared into the darkness of the night.
**
Angie disappeared from view into the foggy evening, relishing the warmth of the sensuous sable. Happily contemplating the small fortune in jewels it had been in contact with earlier that evening, and also the small fortune she had walked out of the reception with in her possession.
**
The guard watched the spot for some time where the pretty lady in the expensive fur had vanished in the mists. He fantasized for a good few minutes, wondered what had been behind the enchantingly secret smile she had given to him.
Excuse me, sir?, a female voice coming from the garden startles him, he had never heard anyone coming.
He turns, catching an eyeful of a long glamourous, brown satin gown, worn fetchingly by a willowy short haired pretty young thing. Diamonds blazed from around her throat, caught by the gas lights, and from around her white satin gloved wrists as she raised her hands in a pleading fashion.
She continues, pointing to a young girl in a smashing blue satin gown, bending over looking for something in the bushes. My sister lost her necklace and pendent while playing around here earlier, did you or anyone find it? She asked in a rather seductive tone of voice9 not a common, it was her regular voice)
No lady, no one turned in a necklace. Thank you sir, and she turns away, her gown flowing out behind her.
He watches for a minute as she and her sister both move elegantly down the path, continuing their search.
He sighed, and turns away, babysitting rich dames he mutters under his breath, what a dismal way to make a living. Why won’t this affair ever end he asked himself, as he reached for his silver pocket watch to check the time. Damnations he said, not finding it nor its chain and fob, must have dropped it in the alley earlier where I had gone for a nipper from his flask. He sauntered off quickly to the alley located in the direction Angie had disappeared, abandoning his post.
Soon after, a pair of dark figures who had been walking on the opposite side of the street, and had stopped to loiter when they spied the guard talking to some posh broad in a shiny brown dress, saw the guard leaving his post. They quickly stole with sinister intent across the road and entered into the gardens, disappearing into the darkness.
*********************************************************************************
This ended up being Angie’s first big score, She got more for the rhinestone set then she had imagined, the small brooch taken off the brown satin sash had proved to have real diamonds in its center! Also the princess in silky sky blue’s pendent and chain had fetched a nice tidy sum. The jewels lifted from the ladies in Green and Silver also realized quite a handsome profit, as did the sable and purse.
if one includes the real diamond ring slipped off the finger of a silky dressed debutante from the prom show and her rather nice haul of a slim pearl necklace and diamond pin from the Opera, the whole weekend was unimaginably successful.
**
From the profit realized, she had been able to spend a pleasant month away in Monte Carlo, even indulging in the purchase of a rich red wine coloured taffeta gown to wear.
Which she pleasantly found that, when paired with her deftly acquired collection of dripping rhinestone diamond jewelry, she attracted wealthy young males with expensive gold watches and fat wallets like honey bee drones to a bright moss rose.
**
She also enticed a long raven haired, Miss, richly clad in emerald silk, to enter into her snare.
But Angie did not make an entirely clean get away. For the last jewel to be taken was the girl’s brooch , and before Angie could hide it with the rest, the girl spotted its’ glitter in Angie’s hand, and with a gasp had looked down on her dress at the now vacant spot where it had been dangling ever so provocatively for Angie all evening.. Angie smiled at the girl as she had looked up in confusion. The girl had placed a hand to her throat, startled when feeling it bare of her necklace. She looked at Angie in hurt confusion, her eyes wide with fright. Angie placed a finger to the girl’s lips, hushing any fuss she may have been thinking of making over her missing jewelry, and turning her back to the forlorn miss, Angie left, not looking back….
**
But that was a story for another day, so we were promised by Angie, giving us an all too familiar look of devious satisfaction at making us wait.
.************************************************************************************
Editor’s Notes:
Our Thanks to Mr. J. Gardner for pointing out the existence of Mr. Monescu’s 1826 guide
If you enjoyed our little story, please like and leave a comment.
And if you wish, describe what intrigued you the most about it…
Thank You
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Even for Christmas in the forest during the early 50's (I would advance 1954), gifts were present. These had been ordered well in advance in the catalogs of Simpson's or Eaton's in Montreal that existed at the time. The simple happiness was there: the New Year's Eve, the tree that the company erected in the center of the small village where about ten families dwelt between Christmas and the Kings for essential services (kitchen, stable, road maintenance .. .)
Here the boy of the cook and the daughter of the great boss of the Consol at the deposit of La Lièvre north of Roberval (lake St-John)
Ici, le garçon du cuisinier et la fille du grand boss de la Consol au dépôt de la Lièvre au nord de Roberval (Lac St-Jean)
Même pour la Noël en forêt au cours des années début 50 (j'avancerais 1954), les cadeaux étaient présents. Ceux-ci avaient été commandés longtemps à l'avance dans les catalogues de Simpson's ou Eaton's à Montréal qui existaient à l'époque. Le bonheur simple était là: le réveillon, l'arbre que la compagnie érigeait au centre du petit village où demeuraient environ une dizaine de familles entre Noël et les Rois pour les services essentiels (cuisine, écurie, l'entretien de la route ...)
Molly exasperated herself sometimes. The fit was perfect—snug, warm, in a stylish black leather. She had just thrown out the right-hand glove in last Thursday’s trash, had kept it for over a year because she was certain the left would turn up, but it never had—until now. She was cleaning out the drawer of the telephone table and there it was, the missing glove, hiding in the back underneath an old telephone book, the one place she’d never looked. Another hidden cost of giving up her landline.
He’d given her the gloves, her favorite pair, two years ago at Christmas, their only Christmas. Near the end of that winter, she’d lost the left one. Before the next Christmas, he’d left, forgetting to take a right-hand glove of his own. They’d argued, not for the first time, about his working late, something she was suspicious of, something she regretted ever thinking about him. She was certain now he’d been truthful, but he’d become fed up and left. She hadn’t seen him since.
Now it was she who worked late, too often seventy-hour weeks. She understood the kind of pressure he’d been under. But she came home to an empty house and two gloves, one his, the other hers. If only she’d kept its mate. She tried hard to suppress them, but tears welled in her eyes.
* * *
Mark missed her, knew he’d made a mistake in walking out. Of course she was suspicious. All of those late hours, who wouldn’t be? Why didn’t he do more to reassure her? He’d dated no other since. It was Molly who dwelt within.
He’d lost a glove himself, the right-hand one, didn’t know where it was, which drove him nuts. She’d given him the pair. For Christmas. He was always so careful about knowing where his things were. Thought he must’ve left it at some restaurant uptown at a working lunch. The only pair he had remaining were wool, with holes in the fingertips and fraying at the wrists. He needed a new pair for the bitter cold to come.
He stopped at a small shop, Tender Hands, located on a back street, where he’d gone for Molly’s pair. The same wise, kind woman who had waited on him then was still there. “Hello,” he said. She seemed to smile in recognition. “I’m looking for a new pair of men’s gloves.”
“This way, sir.” Right away he saw the match to the one he’d lost. He shook his head, couldn’t believe his luck, that they were even still in style.
“I’ll take those,” he said. “Unless”—he paused a moment—“I don’t suppose you’d sell me just one.” She smiled.
“For the right price, I might. People are funny, you know.” She reached in the display case and took out the pair. “You’d be surprised at how many lose one glove and, afterwards, ask if I will sell them just one.” She placed the pair in his hand. “I almost always do,” she said, “but as I said, for the right price.”
“Which is?”
“Two-thirds the price of the pair. Since this pair is $40"—she quickly worked the keys of a calculator—"I’ll sell you one for $26.80, plus tax.”
He thought for a moment. The glove he retained showed virtually no wear. Spending $26.80 was better than spending $40. It seemed fair enough. What was it Molly had called him? “I’ll do it,” he said. “The one for the right hand, please.” Silas Marner. Yes, that old miser, Silas Marner.
“Sir,” the woman said, “I must tell you, should you ever come back for the left glove, it will cost you the same as the one you are now purchasing. Do you understand?”
He hesitated, then nodded yes. Then his eye caught the display for ladies’ gloves. He stepped over, and there they were, a pair of gloves that matched the ones he’d given Molly. He motioned to the clerk. “Do you see something else, sir?”
“Yes, that pair of ladies’ gloves in front, the stylish, black leather ones. How much are they?”
She took the pair out and laid them on the counter. “They’re $60, sir.”
“And one would be two-thirds of that price?”
“I’m sorry, sir, these are pure—
“Italian leather. Yes, I know. I bought a pair a couple of years back.”
“And did she like them?”
“Yes, very much, but she’s lost the left one.”
“I see,” said the woman, and thought a moment. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll sell the left-hand glove for $45, plus, of course, tax. That’s three fourths of the price for the pair. Is that acceptable to you? And the same rule applies if you should come back for the other.”
“Yes,” he said without hesitation, “that will do.”
* * *
A week later, on Christmas Eve, a surprise knocks on Molly's door. There stands Mark, with a small gift-wrapped box in his hand. She invites him in. A brief awkwardness as they embrace, and then he hands her the gift. As she opens it, she bursts into tears. Thinking he’s done something horribly wrong, he apologizes—“I’m sorry, Molly,” he keeps saying, “I’m sorry”—but she can only shake her head and wipe away tears. “No, No,” she keeps saying, and rushes to the front closet, retrieves her left-hand glove and his right one. When she shows them, he bursts out laughing. Then she does. Here she is with two left-hand gloves and no right. There he stands with two right and one left. Which, not unsurprisingly, clinches it.
Yes, two young lovers in a fast clinch, with mistletoe hanging above their heads. They don't notice it, of course. Why would they? When you fit together like a pair of . . . —well, who needs mistletoe?
* * *
Meanwhile, inside Tender Hands, a wise, kind woman, one who understood the value of things, stands at a display counter of gloves, and lovingly settles two unmatched gloves, one woman’s, one man’s, in a single box. She gently tears off a piece of wrapping paper showing black ink tracing a bright star and three, tiny crowned figures riding camels in a vast desert of white. The scene seems to be drawing itself. She affixes the last piece of scotch tape, and tenderly places the wrapped box in a drawer behind her. He won't mind paying again, she knows. As she leaves through the rear door, she reaches for the light switch, and turns her head one last time towards the drawer. A smile ever so slight creases her face. She switches the lights off and closes the door softly behind her. All is silent. Outside, snow feathers down, street lamps slowly form to light, and through the shop window, a soft, tender warmth glows from within.
—by Mike S.
Happy Holidays, Flickr friends. May this time of year bring you many blessings.
(for Poetography, Theme 152—Choose Your Own—Gloves; Literary Reference in Pictures; and ODT—Clothes)
-=//:START-MESSAGE//
Check your inbox, your 20 bucks should be waiting for you. Teaches me a lesson for betting against you. I thought that hunting for Centauri spies on backwater mining stations was the peak of Homefront paranoia. Well, you win, it got worse. Get this - they have me hunting Aelves, which they claim have penetrated all the way to Terra. I think the brass has officially lost it. But hey, orders are orders right? Enjoy the 20, I'm going to be off comms for a bit while I transit my sorry ass all the way back to Terra. I'll probably still be off comms when I get there too, because they're going to have me poking bushes out in the ass end of who-knows-where looking for boogie-men. Its gonna be cold, its gonna be wet, and I can't help but think if I hadn't made that goddam bet with you the universe wouldn't have screwed me over. You won the bet, but you owe me a drink. //END-MESSAGE://=-
"Then the stars cried out their song,
The sky like a siren drew away."
Home. A strange word that brings mixed feelings for every Tuatha who hears it. For the elder of our kind, it is heartbreaking. Home hearkens to a lost world, forgotten in the midst of time. To cities buried beneath the dust, to fields fouled by Fomorian rubbish. For the young among us it holds a sense of whimsy. It is a word that the elder speak with such yearning and passion that every young Tuatha thinks home a strange thing indeed. Home glistens golden in the glimmering flickering glimpse of the mind. Its something never known, but woken in the bones. For most, young and elder and inbetween, home carries a bitter aftertaste. Our home is not our home, but our hideaway. And yet our hideaway has been our home for so long it is all we know. Fickle fate is ever the trickster.
So when we first crossed the Veils once more, it felt like a dream. Not a pretty dream, for some wept at what was long lost. Not a nightmare, for many sighed in disappointment. Like a young man who has dozed off to grey nothing during lectures after mid day meal, we stumbled into a world that we did not recognize, a world that knew us not, and we could not find our home. But further we stumbled, further we poked. We crept through corners, we slid through shadows, we ventured through every valley, and we hid within their hulls. And then the day came: in a small moment, an uncanny moment, so minute and individual and yet it carried the very lifeblood of our kind in it. A single Tuatha, stepping forth from a stolen Fomorian craft, set foot upon soil that knew none before it. No Tuatha had dwelt here before, no cities lay beneath its dust. No Fomorian here had reaped, no rubble here to clear. For the first time, we were alone. For the first time, we were free of our ancient enemy. For the first time in a long time, we could be home. Most would follow that lone Tuatha. More than one home would be built there. And more than one such planet would be found. At the edge of the world we had finally found space enough for home. And we would protect it with our very lives.
Mæg ic be me sylfum soðgied wrecan,
I can make a true song about me myself,
siþas secgan, hu ic geswincdagum
tell my travels, how I often endured
earfoðhwile oft þrowade,
days of struggle, troublesome times,
bitre breostceare gebiden hæbbe,
[how I] have suffered grim sorrow at heart,
gecunnad in ceole cearselda fela,
have known in the ship many worries [abodes of care],
atol yþa gewealc, þær mec oft bigeat
the terrible tossing of the waves, where the anxious night watch
nearo nihtwaco æt nacan stefnan,
often took me at the ship's prow,
þonne he be clifum cnossað. Calde geþrungen
when it tossed near the cliffs. Fettered by cold
wæron mine fet, forste gebunden
were my feet, bound by frost
caldum clommum, þær þa ceare seofedun
in cold clasps, where then cares seethed
hat ymb heortan; hungor innan slat
hot about my heart a hunger tears from within
merewerges mod. Þæt se mon ne wat
the sea-weary soul. This the man does not know
þe him on fold fægrost limpeð,
for whom on land it turns out most favourably,
hu ic earmcearig iscealdne sæ
how I, wretched and sorrowful, on the ice-cold sea
winter wunade wræccan lastum,
dwelt for a winter in the paths of exile,
winemægum bidroren,
bereft of friendly kinsmen, - Anon, 9th Century AD
Why did God create the world?
from Spurgeon's, "Divine Destruction and Protection"
Can your minds fly back to the time when there was no time,
to the day when there was no day but the Ancient of Days?
Can you speed back to that period when God dwelt alone,
when this round world and all the things that are upon it,
had not come from his hand; when the sun flamed not in his
strength, and the stars flashed not in their brightness?
Can you go back to the period when there were no angels,
when cherubim and seraphim had not been born;
and, if there be creatures older than they,
when none of them had as yet been formed?
Is it possible, I say, for you to fly so far back as to contemplate
God alone- no creature, no breath of song, no motion of wing-
God himself alone, without another?
Then, indeed, he had no rival- none then could
contest with him, for none existed.
All power, and glory, and honor and majesty
were gathered up into Himself.
And we have no reason to believe that he was less glorious than
He is now, when his servants delight to do his pleasure;
nor less great than now, when he has crested worlds on worlds,
and thrown them into space, scattering over the sky, stars with
both his hands.
He sat on no precarious throne;
he needed none to add to his power;
he needed none to bring him a revenue of praise;
his all-sufficiency could have no lack.
Consider next, if you can, the eternal purpose
of God that he would 'create'.
He determines it in his mind.
Could any but a divine motive actuate the Divine Architect?
What must that motive have been?
He creates that he may display his own perfections.
He does beget, as it were, creatures after his own image that he
may live in them; that he may manifest to others the joy, the
pleasure, the satisfaction, which he so intensely feels in himself.
I am certain his own glory must have been the end he had in
view! He would reveal his glory to the sons of men, to angels,
and to such creatures as he had formed, in order that they might
reflect his honor and sing his praise.