View allAll Photos Tagged Realization
"Your own self-realization is the greatest service you can render to the world." -Ramana Maharshi
I was amazed when I got back to edit this photograph to find that of the several variations I took every single one has a duplicate moon! I Googled to research about it and apparently it is a rare phenomena where elements in the atmosphere like temperature, moisture and dust need to be just right for it to occur. It's called a Ghost Moon. Truly divine.
"Art is creative for the sake of realization, not for amusement. For transfiguration, not for the sake of play.”
~Max Beckmann
Art house Leidse Rijn Utrecht Netherlands - 2004-2010
Stanley Brouwn - artist - idea
Bertus Mulder - architect - realization
The Triton Fountain is located in Rome in Piazza Barberini. The realization of the "public ornamentation of the city" was entrusted to Gian Lorenzo Bernini, the favorite artist of the pontifical court of Urban VIII; the Tritone fountain, on the whole, conveys an explicit message of dynastic exaltation of the Barberini family, to whom the Pope belonged: the Bernini designed in 1642-43 for Piazza Barberini one of its most successful fountains, the Triton fountain. The latter contributed to restore the decoration to the area, previously used for the cultivation of the vineyard, being located at the edge of the Strada Felice route; in this way, the area began to be animated by a very lively cultural life, so much so that since then Piazza Barberini (with its "fountain of the Triton sounding", as it began to become known due to the hissing emitted by the gush) became the favorite meeting place for many artists visiting Rome.
The columns and the railings that surround the fountain, creating a narrow area of respect, date back to the nineteenth century, when the square began to be subject to intense vehicular traffic. Between the nineteenth and early twentieth century, in fact, the urban structure of the area was distorted, leading to the construction of several multi-storey building complexes that abruptly broke the balance established between the seventeenth-century buildings, the Tritone and Palazzo Barberini.
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La fontana del Tritone si trova a Roma in piazza Barberini. La realizzazione del «pubblico ornamento della città» venne affidata a Gian Lorenzo Bernini, l'artista preferito dalla corte pontificia di Urbano VIII; la fontana del Tritone, nel complesso, trasmette un esplicito messaggio di esaltazione dinastica della famiglia Barberini, alla quale apparteneva il papa: il Bernini così disegnò nel 1642-43 per piazza Barberini una delle sue fontane di maggior successo, la fontana del Tritone. Quest'ultima contribuì a restituire decoro alla zona, precedentemente adibita alla coltivazione della vigna, essendo collocata ai margini della direttrice della Strada Felice; in questo modo, l'area iniziò a essere animata da una vita culturale assai vivace, tanto che sin da allora piazza Barberini (con la sua «fontana del Tritone sonante», come iniziò a divenire nota per via del sibilo emesso dallo zampillo) divenne il ritrovo preferito di molti artisti in visita a Roma.
Le colonnine e le inferriate che circondano la fontana, creando una stretta zona di rispetto, risalgono al XIX secolo, quando la piazza iniziava ad essere soggetta ad un intenso traffico veicolare. Tra l'Ottocento e i primi decenni del Novecento, infatti, venne stravolto l'assetto urbanistico della zona, portando alla costruzione di diversi complessi edilizi a più piani che spezzarono bruscamente l'equilibrio instauratosi tra gli edifici seicenteschi, il Tritone e palazzo Barberini.
Samurai Vader is back to action.
The Daimyo from a Feudal System far, far away has been informed of a threat to his dominion.
An vicious creature is on the lose intended of consuming anything it runs into.
Usual business, after all.
It doesn’t take long for Vader to locate this Alien intruder and the two warriors clash in battle.
The Alien charges but Vader Force pushes the creature away. The creature strikes back, swinging his deadly tail at his opponent but Vader ignites his Lightsaber (or Lightkatana, if you prefer) and severs part of its tail.
The alien screams in pain but it shrugs off the damage and hurls at Vader.
He quickly unsheathe his Vibro-katana and strikes at the creature’s swinging arm. The impact breaks the bone and only its exoskeleton protects it from another amputation.
The counterattack throws the alien off balance and Vader seizes the opportunity. He lashes his Lightsaber inflicting a wide wound on the creature’s chest.
The alien collapses on the ground.
Vader plunges his Lightsaber in the creature’s neck and with a swift movement he chops off its head.
The threat has been neutralized. His scientists will undergo the necessary analysis and investigation on this creature’s appearance within his dominion. He suspects something, or someone, is indeed involved in this situation but now he has other pressing matters to deal with.
His presence is required elsewhere because without his iron grip the whole dominion will fall into chaos.
Vader is the amazing Samurai Vader action figure made by Bandai. The full “designation” is Tamashii Nations Movie Realization Samurai Taisho (General) Darth Vader, Death Star Armor version, just because the name was not long enough lol :)
The Alien is a Xenomorph Warrior action figure by Neca. It is actually a version based on the Dark Horse comics and it comes it the same pack with the Predator action figure I recently posted two photos of.
I hope you like this photo :)
May the Force be with You :)
The adventures of Samurai Boba Fett continue...
A planet is facing a terrible zombie infection and the local government hired the best Bounty Hunter to deal with "certain situations".
Accompanied by a unit of the local planetary defense forces he investigates a location of a major zombie infestation (his samurai Mandalorian armor protects him from any contagion, of course).
Suddenly they are attacked by a group of zombies. They quickly dispatch them until a sort of "augmented" zombie enters the scene slaughtering the local militia with ease.
It swings his deadly claws at the Bounty Hunter but before they can hit their target its face meets the barrel of Boba's blaster.
"Farewell, zombie" He says and he presses the trigger disintegrating the zombie's head.
The only survivor of the Planetary Defense Force unit looks at him in shock and awe.
Boba turns to him and calmly says: "I removed the 'un' form undead" and walks away...
Boba Fett is the amazing Bandai Tamashii Nations Movie Realization Ronin Boba Fett action figure. The zombie is Zombie Sabretooth from Marvel Zombies made by Diamond Select.
Samurai Boba Fett will be back soon :)
I hope you like this photo :)
May the Force be with You :)
Lakeshrine self realization center. Leave your pirate persona and vocabulary in the car. BTW I think they add color to the water. Don't ask me how.
Always humored the running joke of Pan Am being a railroad that had low track speeds, but yesterday trip to the capital region proves it. Heres RJED with a pair of worn out ex CSX D8Ws doing the hot speed of 10 past the abandoned Johnsonville tower.
Where the Land dance mat is a realization of Yves Gendreau. This imposing work of art is installed at the Quays of the Promenade Samuel-De Champlain.
River inspired mats
The work consists of nine rods tricolores more than thirteen feet high, whose top reminiscent of a boat mast. Decorated with vanes, radar reflectors and airspeed, the installation evokes the relationship with the river. Where the Land dance mat is a nod to the navigation and its importance for the destiny of Quebec .
"Rights and planted in the ridges and troughs of the waves of this vast land area which overlooks the river, stands a series of light poles. Same length, they lie in continuing the wave created by the terrain. The beauty of the landscape and traffic on the rise establish dynamic relationships with these objects. Holders of several levels of meaning and possible interpretation, the provision of masts and the arrangement of colors create a sensory experience varies according to different scales of approach. "
Yves Gendreau
"The agony of breaking through personal limitations is the agony of spiritual growth.
Art, literature, myth and cult, philosophy, and ascetic disciplines are instruments to help the individual past his limiting horizons into spheres of ever-expanding realization.
As he crosses threshold after threshold, conquering dragon after dragon, the stature of the divinity that he summons to his highest wish increases, until it subsumes the cosmos.
Finally, the mind breaks the bounding sphere of the cosmos to a realization transcending all experiences of form - all symbolizations, all divinities: a realization of the ineluctable void."
(From "The Hero With a Thousand Faces" by Joseph Campbell)
A few days ago as I was coming to the Ganges at dawn I saw this sādhu on the top of Dasaswamedh Ghat.
He must have been transcending all experiences of form in order to become a follower of Lord Shiva...
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I as I walked the grounds of The International Headquarters of Self-Realization Fellowship, I came across this lovely spot. I could have spent hours there just sitting and listening to the birds chirping. I had my family with me so of course that did not happen..............lol
Holga 120 wide pinhole camera
Kodak Portra 400 @200 ASA
18 sec. exposure time
Trash station, behind a garden where vegetables such as tomatoes and zucchini grow. On the right side one of two kitchen tents.
The Hambicamp 2.0 is part of the anarchistic resistance in and around the Hambach Forest.
It is located in Morschenich in a garden of a house.
Morschenich is a little village very near to the Hambach Forest.
The Hambicamp 2.0 is an education camp where workshops, political and cultural events take place. It's also a space for self-realization.
"The structures such as kitchen, material tent, information tent, press and even a co-working space remain in the camp in "small but fine" form. Winter is getting cold and long, so warm clothes, tea and hot food are here. The camp is equipped with running water, composting toilets, sleeping tents and electricity from the sun. Here you have the opportunity to spend the night in your own tent or in one of our tents."
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Locandina:
pad.mymovies.it/filmclub/2010/09/124/locandina.jpg
pad.mymovies.it/filmclub/2010/09/124/locandinapg1.jpg
Tiziano Terzani:
www.libriantichionline.com/typo3temp/pics/01dca75bf4.jpeg
www.cini.it/wp-content/uploads/2022/05/img01-Tiziano-Terz...
www.phocusmagazine.it/wp-content/uploads/2023/09/01_tizia...
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www.worldphoto.org/sony-world-photography-awards/winners-...
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Beach holidays were born in the 1700s in Great Britain, this social phenomenon was born in which bathers for the first time go to the beaches, certainly not as sunny as those bathed by the Mediterranean Sea, they are fully dressed; this "new fashion" is also encouraged by the belief of English doctors since the beginning of the eighteenth century (starting around 1720), that breathing the brackish sea air and bathing in cold sea water is healthy, invigorates the body and cure lung diseases (conviction even more strengthened by the discovery of oxygen by Antoine Lavoisier in 1778, which led to the greater diffusion and conviction of the theories on the health benefits of sea air, which was thought to be more oxygenated and pure), these theories push many people from Northern Europe suffering from severe lung diseases to spend long periods in southern Europe, often in the south of Italy, this explains why characters with extraordinary qualities come to Taormina to cure their tuberculosis. The photographer baron Wilhelm von Gloeden and the English lady Florence Trevelyan Trevelyan had the seawater brought with their mules from Isola Bella, but while W. Von Gloeden heated the sea water, the English noblewoman Lady Trevelian did not heat it, mindful of the teachings of the English medical school, this will cause her death from bronchopneumonia on 4 October 1907 (see my previous "photographic stories" about Taormina). In fact, "thalassotherapy" was born in Great Britain, together with the social and cultural phenomenon of frequenting bathing beaches (before the beginning of the 18th century, the sea and its beaches were lived, except for reasons of trade and fishing, in a dark and negative way, from the sea often came very serious dangers such as the sudden landings of ferocious pirates, or foreigners carrying very serious diseases could land). Thus the fashion of spending holidays by the sea was born in the English aristocracy and high bourgeoisie of the time, subsequently the habit of going to the sea spread to all levels of society, the railways that were built throughout Great Britain to 'beginning of the nineteenth century, made travel to the ocean accessible even to the lower classes, they too will frequent the seaside resorts, Blackpool becomes the first seaside resort in Great Britain completely frequented by the working classes thanks to the presence of low-cost bathing establishments; the great and definitive boom in seaside tourism will then take place in the 1950s and 1960s. This being the case, it should not be surprising to know that in Great Britain the beaches are more frequented than one might instinctively think due to a climate very different from the Mediterranean one, and that this socio-cultural phenomenon has been investigated at the photographic by photographers of the same Great Britain, of these I mention four names. An important photographer, who probably inspired subsequent photographers, was Tony Ray-Jones, who died prematurely in 1972, at the young age of 30, who was trying to create a “photographic memory” of the stereotypes of the English people; the famous photojournalist Martin Parr, who, although inspired by the previous one, differs from it for his way of doing “social satire” with his goal; finally, I would like to mention David Hurn and Simon Roberts, the latter with wider-ranging photographs, with photographs more detached from the individual. In Italy there are numerous photographers (I will mention only a few) who have made in their long career images captured in seaside resorts (generally we speaking of "beach photography" similar to "street photography"), photographs that are often unique in their style, such as that adopted by Franco Fontana, I mention Mimmo Jodice, Ferdinando Scianna (of whom I am honored to have known him personally), and Massimo Vitali, famous photographer (understood by some as "the photographer of the beaches"), especially for his beautiful photographs taken on the beaches (but not only), thanks to the presence of elevated fixed structures as a kind of mezzanine, built specifically in the bathing beaches for the realization of his photographs. This is my introduction to talk about the theme proposed here, that of “beach photography” (with some exceptions for “narrative” reasons), with a series of photographs taken on the beaches surrounding Taormina (Sicily). For some photographs I used a particular photographic technique at the time of shooting, in addition to capturing the surrounding space, it also "inserted" a temporal dimension, with photos characterized by being blurry because the exposure times were deliberately lengthened, they are confused-out of focus-imprecise-undecided... the Anglo-Saxon term that encapsulates this photographic genre in a single word is "blur", these images were thus created during the shooting phase, and not as an effect created later, in the post-production phase.
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Le vacanze al mare nascono nel ‘700 in Gran Bretagna, nasce questo fenomeno sociale nel quale i bagnanti per la prima volta si recano sulle spiagge, non certo assolate come quelle bagnate dal mar Mediterraneo, sono completamente vestiti; questa “nuova moda” è anche incoraggiata dalla convinzione dei medici inglesi fin dall’inizio del ‘700 (a partire dal 1720 circa), che respirare l’aria salmastra del mare e fare il bagno nell’acqua marina fredda sia salutare, rinvigorisca il corpo e curi le malattie polmonari (convinzione ancor più rafforzata dalla scoperta dell’ossigeno da parte di Antoine Lavoisier nel 1778, che portò alla maggiore diffusione e convinzione delle teorie sui benefici per la salute dell’aria di mare, che si pensava essere più ossigenata e pura), queste teorie spingono molte persone del Nord Europa affette da gravi malattie polmonari a trascorrere dei lunghi periodi nel sud Europa, spesso nel meridione d’Italia, questo spiega perché a Taormina giungono personaggi dalle qualità straordinarie per curare il proprio “mal sottile”, il barone fotografo Wilhelm von Gloeden e la lady inglese Florence Trevelyan Trevelyan si facevano portare coi muli l’acqua di mare proveniente dall’Isola Bella, però mentre W. Von Gloeden riscaldava l’acqua marina, la nobildonna inglese lady Trevelian non la riscaldava, memore degli insegnamenti della scuola medica inglese, questo causerà la sua morte per broncopolmonite il 4 ottobre del 1907 (vedi i miei precedenti “racconti fotografici” su Taormina). Infatti la “talassoterapia” nasce in Gran Bretagna, insieme al fenomeno sociale e culturale della frequentazione dei lidi balneari (prima dell’inizio del ‘700, il mare e le sue spiagge erano vissuti, tranne che per motivi di commercio e di pesca, in maniera oscura e negativa, dal mare spesso provenivano gravissimi pericoli come gli sbarchi improvvisi di feroci pirati, oppure potevano sbarcare stranieri portatori di gravissime malattie). Nell’aristocrazia e nell’alta borghesia inglese di allora nasce così la moda di trascorrere le vacanze al mare, successivamente l’abitudine di andare al mare si diffonde a tutti i livelli della società, le ferrovie che furono costruite in tutta la Gran Bretagna all’inizio dell’Ottocento, resero i viaggi verso l’oceano accessibili anche per i ceti più bassi, quelli più popolari e meno agiati, anch’essi frequenteranno le località balneari, Blackpool diviene la prima località balneare della Gran Bretagna completamente frequentata dalle classi popolari grazie alla presenza di stabilimenti balneari a basso costo; il grande e definitivo boom del turismo balneare si avrà poi negli anni ’50 e ’60. Stando così le cose, non ci si deve meravigliare nel sapere che in Gran Bretagna le spiagge sono più frequentate di quanto istintivamente si possa pensare a causa di un clima ben diverso da quello Mediterraneo, e che questo fenomeno socio-culturale sia stato indagato a livello fotografico da parte di fotografi della stessa Gran Bretagna, di questi cito quattro nomi. Un importante fotografo, che probabilmente ispirò i successivi fotografi, fu Tony Ray-Jones, scomparso prematuramente nel 1972, alla giovane età di 30 anni, il quale cercava di realizzare una “memoria fotografica” degli stereotipi del popolo inglese; il famoso fotoreporter Martin Parr, il quale pur ispirandosi al precedente, se ne differenzia per il suo modo di fare “satira sociale” col suo obiettivo; infine desidero menzionare David Hurn e Simon Roberts, quest’ultimo con fotografie di più ampio respiro, con fotografie più distaccate dal singolo individuo. In Italia numerosi sono i fotografi (ne cito solo qualcuno) che hanno realizzato nella loro lunga carriera immagini colte in località balneari (genericamente si parla di “beach photography” affine alla “street photography”), fotografie spesso uniche nel loro stile, come quello adottato da Franco Fontana, menziono Mimmo Jodice, Ferdinando Scianna (del quale mi onoro di averlo conosciuto personalmente), e Massimo Vitali, famoso fotografo (da alcuni inteso come “il fotografo delle spiagge”), soprattutto per le sue bellissime fotografie realizzate sui lidi (ma non solo), grazie alla presenza di strutture fisse sopraelevate a mò di soppalco, costruite appositamente nei lidi balneari per la realizzazione delle sue fotografie. Questo mio incipit, per introdurre il tema da me affrontato, quello della “beach photography” (con qualche eccezione per motivi ”narrativi”), con una serie di fotografie realizzate sulle spiagge circostanti Taormina (Sicilia). Ho utilizzato per alcune fotografie una tecnica fotografica particolare al momento dello scatto, oltre a catturare lo spazio circostante, ha "inserito" anche una dimensione temporale, con foto caratterizzate dall’essere mosse poiché volutamente sono stati allungati i tempi di esposizione, sono confuse-sfocate-imprecise-indecise...il termine anglosassone che racchiude con una sola parola questo genere fotografico è "blur", queste immagini sono state così realizzate in fase di scatto, e non come un effetto creato successivamente, a posteriori, in fase di post-produzione
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41/365
Realizing something about yourself is easy, changing it is hard. But that is what I have intended to do. Change myself. I have finally realized what I am doing to myself now, it is not good. I don't want to say too much about it, but it is mostly about procrastinating waay to much. That will ruin most things, including photography.
The last week now that I have had vacation, most of my days have been like this; go to bed at 4 o'clock in the morning, wake up at 1 o'clock the day after, watch desperate housewives for the next 4 hours, eating dinner THEN go out shooting. And it just does not work this way anymore. I realized that today, because I wanted to shoot the sunset, so I hurried up just to find out the sun had already set. Then I found myself in great frustration thinking WHAT THE HELL DO I DO NOW?! I ended up trying to take some self portraits, then I went to the water and I bathed with a dress. Theeen, finally.. This. Done. Shooted at midnight. I do not want to do this with myself anymore. I am making the 365 way harder than it really is.
(sorry about this long boring description)
The realization even though you got to school early, all your completed homework sits forgotten on your desk at home.
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Created for the All-Around Awesome Weekly Theme, FORGOTTEN. (Poor Mio!)
That moment when you realize that the woman reflecting in the mirror at Target is actually you!
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¡El momento en que te percatas de que la mujer que se refleja en los espejos en Target, eres tú!
Manifest was irritated to find that his portrait with the girls of the 22nd Street Mission was not included as a family portrait.
*Seriously, if you like Lucha libre and portrait photography, then get this book!
Strobist: AB1600 with gridded 60X30 softbox camera right. AB800 with Softlighter II camera left. Reflector at 6:00. AB800 open behind backdrop of white faux suede. Triggered by Cybersync.
Vincent's fever continued to burn throughout the afternoon and everyone was on edge because of it. After Vincent had woken for those few seconds earlier, Bernadette had brewed an extra strong bhang tea to help him sleep harder. Thankfully he continued to be able to hold down liquids and medicine so Bernadette deemed that it was a good sign. She didn't want to give Damien and Aiden false hope but it was looking like Vincent might just pull through after all.
It was evening, only a few hours later, when the fever finally broke! With a fresh change of bandages and bedding Vincent was finally resting better than he had in the near day and half since his capture.
Around his bed stood Bernadette, Damien, and Aiden; all breathing a sigh of relief as they gazed down at him. Damien could see that Bernadette and Aiden were beyond exhausted; Aiden even more so due to his efforts of rescuing Vincent but at least he'd taken a nap earlier. Bernadette had not. Damien's attention turned to Bernadette and gave her a meaningful look and asked, "Will you rest now?"
"Yes," she agreed with a huff. "But after we get something to eat. I'm famished!"
The mention of food sent all of their stomachs grumbling loudly. None of them had eaten today and it had been even longer for Bernadette and Aiden. Since Aiden didn't know where the food vendors were and Bernadette was clearly exhausted, Damien agreed to the errand of picking up some dinner. Aiden and Bernadette made sure to thank him enthusiastically as he made his way out the door with a small chuckle and promise of being quick.
Once Damien was gone, Bernadette informed Aiden that she was going outside for some fresh air and to write a note to her mother to update her on Vincent's condition. Aiden was glad to let her take some time for herself and sent her off with an encouraging smile. He turned and found himself wandering back towards Vincent's bedroom where he sat down beside his bed on the chair.
The mention of writing made Aiden think of his own correspondence with his father. Aiden had already eagerly sent off a letter to update him on everything that had happened up to their arrival in the capitol, with the promise of another letter to follow this week. It was to include their scheduled stops now that Aiden knew where his captain was sending them. But now, all of that was going to change. With Vincent's injuries as bad as they were, surely they wouldn't be back in the air anytime soon. So much had changed and happened in the last week since he'd sent that letter that he wouldn't even know where to start!
That line of thought suddenly yanked Aiden away from thoughts of the not yet written letter to the realization of what he had done. Now that he was relaxing and coming down from the adrenaline of trying to keep Vincent alive, the realizations of everything that had happened suddenly started to sink in; things that he couldn't tell his father.
"Oh God," Aiden breathed in shock as he sat there and stared at his hands with wide eyes. He'd killed a man just last night! Not only that, but he'd aided in the death of another and proceeded to dump their bodies in a cell to rot and took their keys as if he were some hooligan or pirate! And he'd done it all without a second thought! His ONLY hesitation had been during his disagreement with Vincent. But his argument had really been about Vincent's declining health and not over the principle of going after Thorn. In fact, Aiden had gone along with it as soon as Vincent assured him that was what he wanted.
That was another thing that boggled his mind a bit. There always seemed to be more to Vincent than met the eye. Vincent had actually asked him to do such an awful thing and told him exactly how to do it just after killing a man himself! And to top it all, Aiden followed orders without question!
'...and I'd do it again,' he thought to himself as he sat there. 'All of it. And if Vincent couldn't kill Thorn, I'd have done it myself; once I found out why the Hell he did this in the first place anyway!'
Aiden was shocked by his own thoughts! Yet as he sat there thinking about it, he had to concur with his earlier sentiment: Yes, he'd do it again. He waited for the horror and guilt to come but as seconds turned into minutes he found that there was none. Aiden never would have considered himself to be a murderer so what the Hell did THAT mean?! It wasn't as if he wanted to go out and murder someone else!
But as he turned his gaze upon his captain sleeping there on the bed so worn out and exhausted, Aiden felt all those uncertainties about himself start to seep out of him. No, he realized, it had been because of Vincent; for Vincent. He was alive and would see another day. No matter how scary and uncertain the whole situation had been he knew that if it meant saving this man's life he'd do it again and again. He was worth it. And despite the secrets and a dangerous side lurking beneath his surface, Aiden found he was still not swayed by Vincent in the least.
And hadn't he already proven it before? This wasn't the first time he'd been here for Vincent: there was last week when he'd come across him at the tavern. The memory of walking him home brought a tiny smile to Aiden's face as well as a small blush as he remembered how adorable Vincent had been, pointing out the dimples at the corner of Aiden's mouth and making him smile and doing little things that had made him feel good about himself. And he'd been there for Vincent all night until morning where he had been there for him during his breakdown. No, Aiden hadn't known for sure the cause of it until today, but he wanted to hear the story from Vincent. And he knew he'd be there for him when he was ready.
In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to keep being here. Not just for him but with him; to find the pleasures in life and fight side by side each and every day with him. Aiden couldn't pinpoint when exactly it had happened or even how, but in such a short time Vincent Dubois had become someone so important to him and he couldn't just let him go.
'I couldn't let him go. I need him,' he thought to himself as he gazed longingly at Vincent with a soft smile. 'I love him.'
Then everything in his mind halted. Love?
At nineteen years old, Aiden had never been in love before. He'd spent most of his life learning and experimenting with his craft and dreaming of far away places. It wasn't that he didn't have a social life or wasn't open to finding it. The young ladies of his hometown had eyed Aiden and dreamed that he'd look their way. He'd simply never found anyone appealing enough to steal him away from his dream of adventure. And yet the adventure had been brought to him by Vincent in more ways than he could have imagined in just a few short months...and he knew he craved more.
Aiden felt warmth spread through him starting from his chest and spreading outwards as he thought about how Vincent made him feel. Vincent had a way about him that made Aiden feel more whole and fulfilled each day without the longing for anything else.
...but at the same time he had to admit that wasn't completely true.
Aiden had acknowledged some time ago that Vincent had attractive qualities about him. He had been open to the idea of being with a man but he'd never found one attractive. Not until he met Vincent, anyway. He didn't know what it was about the man but there was just something about him that captured Aiden's attention. Even now as he contemplated how he felt about Vincent, Aiden could still feel the electric warmth of Vincent's touch as upon his dimpled cheek. Hell, that very night he'd fantasized about his drunk captain beckoning him enticingly into bed! Then the very next morning, Aiden had gotten to see more of Vincent's tattoo which dipped further below his waist line out of sight as he'd walked around shirtless. He distinctly remembered wondering just how far down that tattoo went. But after last night? Well now he knew EXACTLY how far down Vincent's tattoo went.
Aiden blushed deeply and brought his hand up to run through his hair awkwardly as he turned away from Vincent in embarrassment. He chuckled nervously to himself. Up until now he'd viewed Vincent's nudity as if he were a doctor treating a patient. But now that he had a moment to really think about it? Bloody Hell! The man was literally right in front of him, hardly even out of his death bed, and here Aiden was, sitting here fantasizing about Vincent's physique! Had he no shame?! But he couldn't help the damn smirk that perked his lips. He just couldn't help it! God, he was grateful nobody else was in the room!
But Aiden did have to admit that he was attracted to Vincent. Even at the top of the tower when Vincent stood bloodied over his kill, his power and strength and confidence poured off of him in such a way that Aiden had found it oddly attractive and stirred something deep inside him.
Pushing the brushes of his internal arousal aside, Aiden finally turned back in his seat to face Vincent again. The smirk had since faded and was replaced with a soft smile as he gazed upon him.
And as he did, it felt like all the world around him seemed to fade and suddenly all that existed, all that mattered was Vincent. Aiden didn't know a lot of things but he did know one thing: He was in love with Vincent. There were apparently more secrets and perhaps a much darker side to this man that Aiden had yet to know but he was not intimidated by it. He was looking forward to discovering it and knowing more about him. He looked forward to making each day an adventure as he intended to woo the man he loved.
...
Once Vincent had passed out from the combination of excruciating pain and exhaustion, he stayed out. There was nothing, not even the white hot burn of alcohol to his open wounds, that could wake him. The fever that gripped him had also brought on the night terrors which only added to the tension in his poor body.
When some relief eventually came, Vincent was able to physically relax more as the dreams quieted. There were points where he struggled to tell if he was dreaming or not. He could hear distant voices; familiar ones. His vision could never seem to form a complete picture. That was until at some point where he was so sure it was real. It had to be...
Vincent could smell the fresh morning dew and the lake in the air mixing with the scent of hot engine oils that he found he loved so much. Every city had its own scent. But this was one was home. The smell of the capitol's docks as it sat above the vast lake always made him feel calm. And he could see her right there: his beloved Emily and their little Lily in her arms, so tiny and new to this world. And then it was time for him to go.
Wait. No...it couldn't be! He wanted to cry out because he knew what was going to happen next. He couldn't watch it again! Please no. No!
"Em-Emily...don't go..."
Vincent tried to reach for her. It had to be real! She was right there! He could even feel the warmth of her fingers! So soft and warm. If he could just reach her...
"Oh Vincent, no. It's me, Bernadette..."
Bernadette? He blinked and stared up at her with dazed and confused eyes. For a moment his cousin came into his view but then things went a bit blurry again. So he was awake? Where was he? Bernadette was insisting he sleep. But he didn't want to sleep and relive that awful dream again. It always ended the same way. Always. He didn't want to see it again! He didn't want to do this anymore!
"Do I..have...to..?"
"Oh sweetheart..."
And Vincent was out cold again, taken under for who knew how long?
...
The next thing Vincent was aware of was that he felt uncomfortable. Something felt very off and he wasn't sure what it was. With a groan, he tried to shift but found that his muscles felt weighed down as if he'd tripled in weight overnight. Even more uncomfortably, as he shifted, a dull ache began to grow in his side.
"Mmnnf..." he groaned in pain as he settled once again. That had felt unpleasant. Eyes still closed, Vincent reached up slowly for his abdomen and found it wrapped in an odd fabric that felt a lot like bandages. As he began to feel around more, a gentle but firm touch halted his progress.
"Hey now, don't mess with that."
Vincent gave a very slight huff and slowly cracked open his eyes. At first the world was blurry and kind of bright. Where was he? How long had he been asleep? He could feel his hand being moved for him to lay at his side as a gentle voice spoke beside him.
"Good morning, sleepy-head."
Vincent blinked again and a moment later he was focusing on Aiden and his beautiful, relieved smile. Aiden was here. Then was he home? Or perhaps at the hospital? He blinked again and glanced around slightly and quickly realized he was home. That's right. He was starting to remember now.
Still feeling groggy, Vincent groaned softly and yawned before suddenly gasping and wincing as pain pierced through the dull ache in his side. Beside him, Aiden quirked his mouth and glanced around before starting to shift so he could stand.
"Let me wake up Bernadette. It's almost time for your next dose of medicine anyways."
"Not yet. Stay."
Aiden sat back down, his eyes meeting Vincent's as his heart beat a touch harder in his chest. Vincent was awake! He was alive and talking to him! He was going to be okay! He felt so happy he could cry! Aiden smiled softly again as he took in the sight of Vincent.
Vincent gazed back up at Aiden almost as if he couldn't believe he was actually still here. After everything he'd put Aiden through, a part of him wouldn't have been surprised to find out that Aiden had abandoned them and taken the first airship straight home!
"You're still here."
Aiden blinked and then broke out into a bigger smile and replied, "Of course I'm still here. You couldn't get rid of me that easily."
"You thought that was easy?"
"Ah ha ha! Vincent, you're funny."
Aiden's chuckle softened and he actually shifted off the seat and moved to sit carefully on the edge of the mattress. He reached out and gently brushed his fingers along Vincent's brow and inspected the bandage. But really, it was just an excuse to sit closer and touch him.
Vincent remained still and allowed Aiden to inspect the bandage, closing his eyes as he struggled to push himself to wake up more. Why Aiden had to sit on the bed to do it was beyond him but he wasn't complaining much right now. He had to admit, silently to himself of course, that Aiden's touch was rather soothing and welcome. Subconsciously, he was even leaning into Aiden's touch.
"How long have I been asleep?" Vincent murmured as he finally opened his eyes to look at his friend. Aiden wet his lips and resisted the urge to brush his fingertips through Vincent's loosely pulled back hair. Instead he brought his hand down to Vincent's abdomen to inspect those bandages as well as he thought about it. Really, it all felt like a blur and he had to really think for a moment.
"Since the night before last," he finally answered. "So Wednesday night. It's Friday morning."
Vincent laid still as Aiden carefully inspected his bandages and let himself process that. Friday morning? Well damn. Naturally, he'd never made it to that meeting with Mr. Mason. His mind was already piecing things together quickly as it always did despite feeling groggy from all the medicine he'd been given. There were a few missing pieces to all this still but he'd get to that.
"I'm sorry," Vincent apologized out of nowhere. Aiden was already sitting up and giving him a mildly shocked look.
"What do YOU have to be sorry for?"
Vincent looked off to the side slightly and no longer met Aiden's eyes as guilt flooded him. Because of him, Aiden had put himself in danger. Even worse: he could have been killed! Vincent had put him through some terrible things just by association that no man of nineteen years should go through! Aiden didn't deserve all the drama and stresses of being associated with him. He felt responsible and loathed himself just on principle.
"For...for you getting dragged into all this. For causing you to worry. For...for everything, I suppose. It's my fault."
"Don't be ridiculous! It's NOT your fault!"
Vincent blinked and his attention snapped back to Aiden in surprise who was looking at him in earnest now.
"I came of my own accord! As soon as I-!" Aiden wet his lips and lowered his voice. "As soon as I found out where you were, I came as soon as I could. No one forced me. No one asked me. I came for you because I wanted to. Like...like you said to me that night: you knew without a doubt you were going to make it up those stairs, right? Well, I knew without a doubt I was going to get you back."
"You did?"
"Absolutely."
Vincent, as exhausted and groggy as he'd felt seconds ago, was suddenly feeling quite awake as he stared back at the man who'd saved his life. Well, that answered a few of his questions, but also brought on an onslaught of new ones.
So Aiden had found out where he was? Now that he mentioned it, it HAD been only Aiden who had come. In all the excitement, Vincent hadn't thought about that. At the time, he'd simply been grateful for a friend to fight alongside him. It was just that he hadn't expected it to be the grinning, passionate, and goofy Aiden. He hadn't expected Aiden to have it in him to kill a man in cold blood; especially for someone as unimportant as him.
Vincent had thought Aiden a good friend before; a loyal one even. Now he knew that he trusted him quite literally with his life. There were just some things people went through together that changed how they felt about each other. After all he'd learned and discovered about Aiden, he found he appreciated the man more and more. It certainly seemed Aiden felt strongly about their friendship as well!
Finally, after several seconds of silence, Vincent finally broke into a small, tired smile as he relaxed a little bit. He wanted to say the right thing here. He really wasn't sure what to say and didn't know where to start so he said just let himself say the first thing that came to mind.
"Thank you. I...have no words to truly convey how I feel. But thank you, Aiden, truly, for everything"
"You're welcome. I'll always have your back."
"And I'll have yours."
Perhaps no more words needed to be spoken; not now anyway. The men smiled at each other until a second later pain throbbed in Vincent's side and he grimaced with a groan. A moment later, he grunted, "You said Bernadette is here? As in my cousin?"
"Yes," Aiden explained. "She's been here with me since right after we got back. She came in the doctor's stead and has been religiously giving you medicine and tea. Lots of tea." A small smirk appeared on his face. Something told him that tea would turn out to be a family passion of theirs.
"That would explain why my bladder is screaming at me," he said dryly. "Is anyone else here?"
"Damien was here, but he's due back soon. And there's a bedpan under you so you don't have to get up. I'll give you some privacy and go wake Bernadette while you relieve yourself. You're due for your medicine anyways."
He had a bedpan under him? He supposed that meant he was probably naked under the blanket. It would make sense with all the bandages needing to be changed and not being able to get up. Being in an emergency situation, he understood, but it was still a bit embarrassing, he felt.
"Thank you."
Vincent watched as Aiden stood carefully from the bed. Aiden seemed to go a little slower, almost lingering an extra moment longer than necessary. Was he waiting for something? Vincent wondered. Was he going to speak? He simply waited patiently. After a long moment, Aiden instead gave Vincent a small smile and turned to give him his privacy to do his business. He needed to wake Bernadette. Vincent was awake!
"I'll be back soon!"
Once Aiden was gone, Vincent relieved himself with a sigh. Now that he had a moment alone he began to think over what had transpired between them the last few days. Why did Aiden do all this though? Why? While he was exceedingly grateful for Aiden, it still puzzled him how the man had managed to wedge himself into his life the way he had. And Vincent had just let it happen! Something about Aiden brought down his defenses. It made him feel nervous as much as it secretly relieved and excited him to know that he could reveal a deeper side of himself to someone new.
One thing for sure was that their friendship had reached a whole new level of trust and understanding. He trusted him nearly as much as he trusted Damien! And that was saying something! He really appreciated the man that Aiden was; from the loyal comrade at arms to his newest close friend to the joking, grinning naïve adventurer that he was.
And it wasn't just that. There was more to Aiden than he'd realized. The more he got to know, the more he liked and appreciated him. As annoying and childlike as he could be, it was also part of his charm. He could make you want to roll your eyes and yet you couldn't help but smile and genuinely feel happy too. His excitement over the littlest things could be adorable, just like his smile.
Vincent leaned his head back against the pillow with a soft groan and closed his eyes. Yeah, Aiden was adorable. Handsome to be sure and he had a masculine beauty about him that Vincent couldn't deny was pleasing to the eye. But more so, it was his soul, he felt, that was most beautiful.
However, the possibility that Aiden could have any romantic feelings for him didn't even really cross Vincent's mind. Aiden had never shown any indication that he was feeling anything other than friendship or any inclination that he felt that way about men at all. So why should he consider that?
"Vincent!"
Vincent's eyes opened and he glanced over at her and offered a tiny smile as she strode in with a relieved smile and tears in her eyes. He was very happy to see her, too, despite his exhausted demeanor. A moment later she was swooping down to gently hug him to which Vincent managed to gently pat her arm and give a gentle squeeze.
"It's okay, Bernie. I'm going to be fine."
"Not if Mama gets a hold of you first..."
From the doorway, Aiden stood there and leaned against the jamb with a small smile, arms crossed over his chest. He could hear them talking quietly but he wasn't paying too much attention to their words. He mostly was enjoying the simple sight of watching Vincent awake and interacting with his cousin.
Behind him the front door opened, which caught his attention. Glancing over his shoulder, he watched Damien enter, who had returned with fresh bread and fruits for breakfast for them all. He flashed Damien a grin as the door closed and he made it fully inside.
When Damien saw Aiden's grin, his eyes widened and set down the bag of groceries with a silent question in his eyes. Aiden smiled a little more and jerked his head for Damien to come over.
Aiden had expected Damien to rush to Vincent's side. Instead, he slowly approached as if he were scared it was too good to be true. As soon as he drew up beside his crewmate, his eyes rested on Vincent and cleared his throat to announce his presence.
As soon as Vincent realized it was Damien, he smiled a little bit in greeting. Aiden could feel the shift in Damien's demeanor as he relaxed and sighed in relief. He glanced at Aiden with a small grin, himself, and gave him a small nod before heading inside to greet Vincent and see how he was doing for himself.
Aiden's grin faded to a soft smile as he watched Vincent try to sit up a little more to greet Damien a little more enthusiastically. It resulted in Bernadette's fussing at him trying to sit up on his own too fast and helping prop him up a little more with the extra pillow.
It was a heart-warming moment and it made him feel good to see that Vincent really did have people who loved and cared about him. Damien was chuckling and Bernadette was smirking a little while she rolled her eyes good naturedly. And from what he heard about the Dubois family, they seemed pretty close.
As Aiden rejoined the trio at the bed, Vincent gazed up at the three of them and felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude to the three of them. They had saved his life. He smiled at them then suddenly broke out into a yawn and mumbled, "Sorry. I guess I'm more tired than I thought."
Bernadette chuckled and replied, "You're still recovering from illness, Cousin. Rest. Listen to your body. I'll be right back with the next dose. Did you use the bedpan?"
"Yes."
"Alright. Let me get your medicine and I'll get that taken care of."
"Thank you."
To be honest Vincent was feeling a little pathetic laying here. He knew he needed to rest. The sooner he did, the sooner he could be back on his feet and back to normal. He hated having to depend on others. But soon he'd be able to get up and tie up those loose ends. Until then, he'd do well to listen to Bernadette and get some rest.
Bernadette soon returned with Vincent's next dose of medicine and tea. Vincent took it and thanked her and asked how bad his injuries were. Bernadette sent Aiden out to empty the bed pan for her then she sat down and began to explain to Vincent just how much his body had undergone. It was bad but not any worse than he'd suspected. He'd endured two broken ribs, possibly another, a concussion, and had several lacerations including the severe one at his abdomen all on top of being ill from the infection. He'd need to rest a lot and to do breathing exercises regularly. But mainly he was not to do any physical labor for a while; up to two months which meant until after the ball coming up. God, he was not looking forward to all the bed rest!
"What do you mean a week?!"
Aiden blinked as Vincent's exclamation carried in from the other room. As he walked in with the freshly cleaned bedpan, he looked around at them curiously as Bernadette was responding to her cousin.
"If I had it my way, you'd be laying in bed even longer. This is me compromising. Don't you huff at me, Vincent Dubois! I know you! You never liked keeping your feet on the ground, but you need to let your body heal! I mean it!"
Oh, how Vincent scowled at her! Vincent knew she was right but he didn't like it! If it were just broken ribs he'd be up and around quick! But damn it all, he had to get sick from his injuries, too. He really hated this situation he was in! Finally Vincent slumped completely back against his pillow in resignation and gave a sigh.
"A week. You have my word."
"Thank you. Oh! And thank you, Aiden."
"You're welcome," Aiden said as he handed the bedpan to her. He went automatically to the opposite side of the bed than her. He was so used to helping her the last couple of days that he hadn't had to think twice about it. As he drew up along Vincent's side, he grinned a bit and said, "Hold on tight. Going to roll you over this way. Ready, Bernadette?"
"Ready!"
"Ready, Vincent?"
Vincent clenched his teeth and gave a small nod and braced for pain. He thought silently, 'This is so humiliating.' He was determined to get up out of bed and go to the loo on his own as soon as possible! There was only so much of this he was going to be able to take. He just knew it.
A moment later he was being leaned over by the much larger Aiden who reached for the sheet underneath him. At the movement, Vincent was grateful to discover the opium had taken effect and he wasn't caring so much about the pain anymore. Then he was being rolled over towards Aiden who released the sheet. He gently slid his arms around Vincent and was sort of holding his body to his now. Behind Vincent, the sheet fell away and Bernadette quickly went to work sliding the bed pan under him. However, he wasn't thinking much about what she was doing.
Instead, Vincent's senses were brought into all that was Aiden as his chest and abdomen came into his view and the warmth of his arms enveloped him in a firm but gentle hold. Vincent's body relaxed as he exhaled and somehow felt like he was melting into Aiden's arms. Even at the awkward angle they were at, it did feel nice. And as Vincent inhaled, he was expecting to be hit with that natural scent of Aiden's that he'd liked so much. Was it as good as he remembered?
"All done! Roll back this way," Bernadette was saying a second later and held up the sheet for Aiden. Aiden released Vincent carefully against the sheet and helped roll him back over. Though, as Vincent was rolled back onto the bedpan, he stared right up at Aiden and narrowed his eyes with a slight scowl. It was a look that clearly indicated that he wasn't very pleased with him. Aiden immediately caught the look and blinked before staring back at him in confusion.
"What?!" he finally exclaimed with wide, innocent eyes. He couldn't help how his voice rose just a touch higher in pitch. Already, he felt guilty and he didn't even know what for! Even Bernadette and Damien were staring with intrigue.
Frowning deeper, Vincent huffed at him. He could feel himself getting more disoriented thanks to the medicine, but damn it all if he was going to let this go!
"Are those the same clothes you wore the other night?"
"Um." Aiden blinked, clearly taken aback by this unexpected question. He looked down at himself then guiltily looked back at him. Vincent hadn't even raised his voice. He didn't have to. This was his captain's tone of voice and he'd know if Aiden was lying without having to ask anyone else. Finally he admitted hesitantly, "Yes?"
"So you have been here this whole time?"
"Yes, Sir."
"And you haven't bathed or changed your clothes at all since then?"
"I-... what?"
"Have you done ANYTHING to take care of yourself since we got back?"
"Does eating dinner last night count?"
There was a long pause.
"You're going to go back to Leon's Claw this instant!"
"I am?"
"Yes, you are! And you are going to take a bath and REST! You need to take care of yourself, damn it! Do I need to get out of this bed and march your ass back there myself?"
Stunned, Aiden stared back at him and noticed Damien's smug smirk turning in his direction through the corner of his eye. Not wanting to look at Damien right now, he instead turned his nose towards his shoulder and sniffed only to make a slight face at himself. Bloody Hell! Vincent was right! He smelled awful! Aiden glanced back at Vincent who was still staring up at him expectantly awaiting his answer.
"Fine. I'll go, but you better keep YOUR ass right there!"
Aiden half expected Vincent to yell at him. He'd never spoken to a superior like that! It didn't matter what they'd been through together! Vincent, however, just stared back at him for a long moment and held his gaze as if committing him to a silent promise. Aiden realized as they gazed in each other's eyes that....well, Vincent was just worried about him.
"Fine. And I'm assuming YOU have been here this whole time too?"
Vincent had turned his attention to Bernadette, who folded her arms over her chest and scolded, "I'm your nurse! I don't think you are in any position to be scolding me considering YOU are the one in the bed!" Vincent's eyes softened as he gazed up at his cousin who he loved as a little sister. He responded, "And you know your help means the world to me, but I couldn't live with myself if you dropped from exhaustion."
'Damn that man!' Bernadette cursed silently as she felt herself deflating already. Vincent always knew what to say to calm her down. She sighed softly and gently took a seat on the bed beside him.
"It's easier if I stay."
"I agree, and you can stay. But, for now, go home and take a hot bath, please. You deserve it. Get a good meal in you and then go see your mother. Damien will stay here and make sure I stay in bed, right Damien?"
"Right!" Damien chimed in not even a breath later. "Why don't the two of you go do as he says? I'll keep an eye on things here. Go on."
Bernadette looked back at Vincent with a furrowed brow before she finally sighed and nodded. "Very well. Aiden, would you be so kind as to see me out?"
"Of course."
"Thank you," she said before returning her attention to Vincent. "I'll see you in a few hours. Get some rest, okay? We'll do your dressing changes when I get back."
Vincent gave a small nod which was followed by a yawn. He could feel the drowsiness pulling him back under. Yet he kept himself awake long enough to watch Bernadette head for the door with Aiden following behind her. At the last moment, Aiden paused and placed his hand on the door jamb and glanced back over his shoulder. Their eyes met and Aiden's lips curved into a small smile. Vincent began to return the smile. However, he was hit hard with the exhaustion of being awake and all his exertions while doing so. The last thing he saw was Aiden before sleep pulled him back under.
...
Next Part:
www.flickr.com/photos/153660805@N05/52358844375/in/datepo...
To start from the beginning or to read another chapter, here's the album link:
www.flickr.com/photos/153660805@N05/albums/72157717075565127
***Please note this is a BOY LOVE (BL/yaoi/gay) series. It is a slow burn and rated PG13!***
***
Special thank you to Vin Aydin Raven-Mysterious for collaborating with me on this series and co-starring as The Captain!
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Then comes the frustrating realization that no matter how long life endures, no matter how many experiences are muddled through in this existence, you may never really be able to answer the question…..
Who am I?
www.youtube.com/watch?v=IdqY0sRvidc
Because the answer....
Like the seasons, constantly, subtly, inevitably changes.
And who it is you are today, is not the same person you will be tomorrow.
~ Richelle E. Goodrich , Eena, The Dawn and Rescue
© All rights reserved Anna Kwa. Please do not use this image on websites, blogs or any other media without my explicit written permission.
52 Weeks of 2020
Week No. 50: Local Tradition
Category: Creative
Flickr Lounge “Season's Greetings"
Every year the Self Realization Fellowship in Encinitas decorates for Christmas. It is a beautiful place and all decked out, it is a gorgeous sight to behold.
My images are posted here for your enjoyment only. All rights are reserved. Please contact me through flickr if you are interested in using one of my images for any reason.
There are certain things, or many things in life that when captured on a photograph, hold a significant meaning but the person witnessing that moment feels the true feeling surrounding that particular event.
This is the realization of the pattern I created for a hungarian bride using hungarian embroidery elements. The henna is Tunisian style where like in Yemen gall ink is used to high light the henna.
Khidab is a Gall ink which is employed in Yemen mainly in the mountainous regions around the capital Sanaa instead of henna. For an account how it is made you can download an article:
Yemeni Women’s Body Painting with Black Gall Ink Khidab, Production Methods,
from my colleage Dr. Hanne Schönig at www.henna-und-mehr.de/pdf/Khidabartikel_eu.pdf; (Englisch)
or www.henna-und-mehr.de/pdf/schoenig_deutsch.pdf (German)
If you like to see original Yeminite bodypaintings with this ink visit: www.henna-und-mehr.de/de/khidabslide.html (German) or
A stick cracked to my left, sounding like a deafening yell in the serene silence of the forest.
I stopped, holding absolutely still, and was rewarded with the heart-warming sight of a doe and her calf making their way through the woods.
Smiling, I continued on my way after they passed, heading more or less in the vague direction of Durrough.
I had ditched the wagon several miles and two nights back, after coming to the realization that if someone was hunting me, it probably wasn’t the best idea to travel out in the open, driving a conspicuous wagon. Now, I was on foot, going through some of the more difficult, less traveled paths through the eastern-most portion of the Wandering Woods. It would take longer to reach my destination, but it would also draw less attention to myself, thus making it worth the longer journey.
Squaring my shoulders, I forged onwards.
————————————
The next morning,
I awoke to something sharp jabbing into my back from beneath my bedroll. Groaning, I rolled over, and extracted……a rock.
Muttering in disgust, I threw the rock aside, and groggily disentangled myself from my cloak, which had been serving as my blanket, climbing to my feet with an audible cracking of joints.
“Well,” I said to no-one in particular, “Time to start the day I guess.”
I had killed a small rabbit with my crossbow last night, and I cooked him up now, along with a few edible greens I found near my campsite.
After breakfast, I packed up my bedroll, checked to make sure I still had that sealed letter, gathered my things, and kicked out the fire.
Then, I headed off in the same direction as yesterday. I estimated I only had another day at most before I reached Durrough. Fortified by this, (as well as that rabbit), I set off for another day of hiking.
Little did I know today was not going to be like the days before it.
————————————
A few hours later, I stopped for a rest, and possibly lunch, if I could find some game large enough to make a meal out of.
Making sure my crossbow was loaded, I began to stealthily advance through the woods, keeping a sharp eye out for prey. I spotted a couple of squirrels, but neither one was large enough to warrant taking a shot at.
Watching the second one run off, I detected movement out of the corner of my eye. Moving slowly, so as not to scare whatever it was, I turned towards the spot I saw movement from.
Expecting to find a deer, or even better, a wild hog, I was shocked to discover it was a BEAR!
I froze. The bear was staring right at me, not moving either.
As the seconds dragged on in our stand-off, I realized this wasn’t just any bear, it was a grizzly bear!
And to make matters worse, it was a very hungry-looking grizzly bear.
Keeping my eyes fixed on the bear, I began to slowly back away, taking micro-steps so as not to startle it into action. After a few steps, the bear began to move forward, as I moved back.
That was definitely not what I wanted the bear to do, and I realized this was not going to end peacefully.
Just as I was coming to this conclusion, the bear charged.
Given less then a second to react, I dropped and rolled to the side, feeling a rush of air as the bear breezed by. Rolling to my feet, I saw the bear stop and start to turn around, for another go at me. Pre-empting this, I turned and ran, as fast as my legs would carry me, hearing the bear charging up behind me.
Now, I know that everyone says the stupidest thing you can do when facing a bear is run, but A; not everyone is me, and B; I wasn’t trying to outrun the bear, I just needed a few seconds to get my shot, pardon the pun.
As I ran, I checked hastily that my crossbow was still loaded, and, finding it was, judged that the bear was too caught up in chasing me to slow down or avoid this, whipped around, bringing the crossbow to my shoulder, sighted, and pulled the trigger.
The bolt flew seemingly in slow motion, as the bear charged at me, straight into the grizzly’s right eye, killing him instantly.
The bear’s momentum kept his body moving forward, even as it started to hit the ground, forcing me to quickly step to the side, to avoid getting pinned as the corpse slid to a stop where I had been standing moments before.
I staggered against a nearby tree, sliding to the ground with my back against the trunk, staring at the bear’s corpse, feeling the adrenaline from my near-death experience pumping through my veins, and my breath coming in ragged bursts.
It was then, sitting on forest floor, waiting for my body to clam down, that the sound of rushing water penetrated my senses. I got up, and, turning around, surveyed my surroundings, which I hadn’t even registered yet.
My jaw dropped.
Hardly believing my eyes, I stepped out of the tree line.
I was on the bank of a river, that forked around the spit of land I was standing on. Both ends of the river wound away through the trees.
Directly across from me was the source of this river;
A magnificent (although not very large) waterfall, pouring majestically down the side of sheer rock face. The sound of it filled the air, which was the sound I had noticed minutes ago.
The rock face the waterfall poured over continued beyond to the right, slowly curving outward.
A huge old oak tree grew near this face, on the opposite bank. Over on my side, a large pile of boulders sat jumbled to my right, a tree growing up from their midst.
The whole area was overflowing with bright colors and abundant flora and fauna.
Looking around, I felt at peace for the first time in several days.
Putting down my crossbow, I flopped in the grass with a grateful sigh, content just to lay there in the soft grass for awhile.
As I lay there, I tried to come up with a suitable name for this hidden gem of the forest. Nothing I tried sounded right, and it wasn’t until I sat up and took another look at the place that the perfect name popped into my head.
“Heaven’s Lagoon,” I said out loud, trying it out. It fit perfectly.
It was then, as I was sitting there, enjoying the feeling of having this beautiful place all to myself, plus the fact I had just named it, when I noticed something I had missed before. Or maybe it hadn’t been there before, because I never missed anything.
Almost directly across from me was a cave.
As I stared at it, trying to figure out why I hadn’t seen it the first time I looked over there, I began to feel a strange sensation. It felt like the cave was calling to me, inviting and drawing me in.
That should have been more than enough warning to not go in the cave, but I had never been able to resist something like this.
So, curiosity getting the better of me, I got up, picking up my crossbow on the way, and moved to the edge of the bank, looking for a way across.
Finding it, I went over to the boulder pile, climbed up on the largest one, and, balancing carefully, hopped to a rock in the middle of the river, then over to the far bank, right in front of the cave.
Having reached my goal, I stopped to examine the cave opening. It was a little over six feet high, irregularly shaped. Other than that, there was nothing to suggest it was anything other then a normal cave. Anything besides that the tugging feeling in my gut had gotten stronger.
Fashioning a makeshift torch from a tree branch and some spare cloth I kept in a pocket, I took a deep breath, and stepped inside.
Instantly I was hit with a prickling sensation, a magic ward being tripped.
Damn, I thought, and then the cave walls disappeared.
————————
I am standing in the middle of a glade, surrounded by ages-old oak trees. A gentle breeze blows through, swirling leaves around, and tousling my hair. The afternoon sun shines down through the leaves, casting a golden light over everything. It would be the perfect day, if it weren’t for what I knew was about to happen.
Across the glade from me, shock mixed with horror etched on his face, stands my best friend, Trevor Mortlen. He has a hunting spear in one hand, as do I. Mine has the blood of a deer on the tip.
“S-Skye,” the other says, “What-how?”
At first, I am not quite sure what he is trying to say, then it dawns on me: He saw what I did, how I drew the spear back to me from the deer, twelve feet away, clear across the glade.
“Trevor,” I say calmly, forcing myself to look him in the eyes, “There’s something I’ve never told you about myself. I think it’s time I rectified that.”
I see the the hurt and fear in his eyes.
“I’m sorry Skye, but it’s too late for that. You’re not who I thought you were.” The other says, and begins to back away.
Panic starts to take told of me. I know how this ends. I know because I have relived this moment in my mind so many times, always trying to find an ending different than the one I know is about to happen, never being successful.
“Trevor,” I hear myself say, “Please, you must listen to me. It’s not what you think. I can explain everything, if you just let me.”
My plea falls on deaf ears.
“I’m sorry Skye,” he says again. “I don’t trust you anymore. You’re not someone who should be free to cause harm.”
Each word is like a dagger to my heart. I can barely believe what I’m hearing. This couldn’t be my Trev, the very best friend I had in this world. The person who meant so much to me.
“Please, “ I begged, tears beginning to blur my vision, “Trev, don’t do this.”
He looked at me with sadness in his eyes.
“I don’t want to. But I have to. I don’t know you anymore Skye.” And he turned away, heading out of the glade, bound for the sheriff’s office in our village.
I was torn apart in that moment, as Trevor turned his back on me. I knew if he reached the sheriff, my life, my parent’s life, maybe even my cousin’s lives, would be ruined, if not over completely.
There was only one way to stop this.
Only one way to ensure the safety of myself and my family.
Screaming my fury at the unfairness and helplessness of my situation, I throw the spear at my love’s back.
I could feel the scene beginning to change. Afraid of what I would be forced to relive next, I pushed against the memories, tearing myself free.
“NNNOOOOO!”
—————————
And then I was back in the real world, still standing in the same spot. My legs collapsed beneath me, and I barely managed to catch myself before I hit the floor.
Lifting my torch, I was able to clearly see now that the cave was man-made, probably by some old wizard with elemental powers, which would also explain the ward guarding the entrance.
Finding my mind starting to drift back to the memory that had been triggered, I forced myself to redirect, settling on the the fact that the tugging in my gut hadn’t lessened any, despite the ordeal I had just gone through.
Getting to my feet, crossbow in one hand, torch in the other, I cleared away my jumbled thoughts, and focused solely on the feeling.
It was definitely coming from deeper inside the cave, so despite my growing reservations, I allowed myself to be led into the bowels of the earth, winding downward, past branch tunnels and rooms, drawn ever deeper by the steadily increasing tugging, til' finally, I arrived at the end of the tunnel. Before me was an absolutely ancient oaken door, fastened into the rock via some very rusty iron hinges. The source of the tugging sensation was on the other side of that door, I was sure of it.
Studying the four rusty hinges, I set down my crossbow and torch, stretched out my hands, palms outward, and concentrated.
A second later, the hinges tore free of the rock and zoomed into my hands.
Smiling, I dropped the hinges on the ground, and, retrieving my torch and crossbow, kicked down the old door.
Beyond, the room inside was circular, about twelve feet in each direction, walls, floor, and roof all made of carved stone. Carved into the floor, all around the edge of the room, were strange runes, in a foreign language I didn’t understand. But that wasn’t what drew my attention the second I stepped into the room, nor was it the faded mural-like pattern scrawled across the back wall.
It was the perfectly symmetrical pedestal, placed in the exact center of the room, with a second ring of runes around it’s base.
Atop the pedestal sat………..a gleaming, perfectly polished nautilus shell.
I could instantly tell the tugging sensation was originating from the mysterious shell.
Why, I didn’t yet know.
I slowly approached the pedestal, as if in a trance, and reaching out, picked up the shell.
Instantly the tugging sensation disappeared. I turned the shell over in my hands, studying it. Other then being extra shiny, it didn’t appear any different than any other nautilus shell.
“So what caused the tugging feeling?” I asked into the silence, not really expecting an answer.
But I got one.
A faint sound became discernible in the room, and it seemed to be coming from the shell in my hand.
Lifting it to my ear cautiously, I was surprised to hear the sound of waves, mixed with the chirping of birds, (though I couldn’t tell what species they were from), along with other sounds I didn’t recognize. This close to my face, I noticed for the first time there was something different about this shell.
The stripes on the nautilus were translucent, and in the one closest to me, I could faintly see a beach, made of white sand.
I blinked, and the image was gone.
Shaking my head to clear it, thinking maybe I had imagined it, I turned away from the pedestal, placing the shell in a pocket on my belt.
It was then I realized, without the tugging feeling leading me, I had no idea where I was.
I was lost down here, in this maze of tunnels.
As this set in, my shadow flickered, and disappeared, as the room went dark.
My torch had just gone out.
————————————
Previous Chronicle stories start here.
(TMS)Ushuaia Luxury JPS
The most beautiful and detailed (TMS)Ushuaia ever seen on Second Life.Interiors and exteriors completely redesigned.A lot of working hours were needed to make this boat and about 50 textures have been applied.
Reflections, luminosity and alpha totally revised, but you do not have to worry because to apply all this you will have to do only one simple operation:
drag a script from the inventory to over your Ushuaia. Just a simple mouse movement and your new boat will be ready to sail in the Linden seas. ⛵⛵⛵
To see this : maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Faracity/163/251/25
Marketplace : marketplace.secondlife.com/p/Texture-Ushuaia-Luxury-JPS/1...
A long time ago in a feudal system far, far away…
A group of strange beings appeared on the planet talking about the coming of the judgement day.
The news reached one of the most influent daimyo but at first Lord Vader thought they were just a couple of annoying preachers.
He knows that kind pretty well and he usually “dispatch” them quickly when they knock at his fortress’ door but they rarely are something more serious than a momentary annoyance (Force chocking them always takes few seconds, after all lol ) and he had more pressing matter than dealing with door-to-door sellers of ideologies.
However these beings proved to be different. They appear to be synthetic lifeforms of the most aggressive kind and they started to kill those who, well, don’t share their point of view. The feudal lord can’t tolerate it. This is his dominion, after all
They are too powerful for his warriors and he decided to take care of them in person.
He meets the first of them in the outskirts of a village’s ruins. The creature starts to talk about the incoming judgment day but before he has a chance to complete its speech, Vader Force pulls the invader toward him and impales the synthetic body with his Lightsaber (or Light-Katana, if you prefer :) )
“Your final judgment comes today” He laconically says, ending the machine killer’s life.
This is my first photo featuring the Samurai Darth Vader action figure from Bandai.
The action figure is amazing like the Samurai Boba Fett one.
This the most recent version of the Samurai Darth Vader Action Figure from Tamashii Nations Movie Realization series and it’s officially called Samurai Taisho (general) Darth Vader Death Star Armor.
I hope you like the “debut” of Samurai Vader in this photo :)
I made a little "continuity error" here, since I forgot to remove Vader's Lightsaber hilt from his belt. Since he is using it the lightsaber shouldn't be on his belt. When I realized it the figures where already in the position and I didn't want to risk to move them. The positive aspect is the photo now shows the details of Vader Lightsaber Japanese hilt :)
The enemy is a Terminator 2 Endoskeleton figure I found on clearance at a trusted local store :)
May the Force be with You :)
A narrow alley in Tuscany / Italy. A woman walks along the narrow way in a hurry. The old houses seem oppressive. Black white street photography in artistic realization. Black and white photography art.
The realization set's in that you must live in a relatively remote area when a scene like this is roughly 15 miles from your home.
''A UFO has crashed on earth; strange pink creatures 'ALIENS' are appearing on the street.......Will you run and hide? Call the police? or will you come out to play?''
Does Oxygen work for them? How will they survive for breathing, if there is no Oxygen outside of our planet?!!
UFO= Unidentified Flying Object
LJUD group: The INVASION. This is a Slovenian performing group mainly focused on performing in public spaces.
Event: Stockholm Kultur Festival (16 -21 August), 2011 including Youth Festival (Ung 08)
See other pictures in Youtube: youtu.be/KBezfYTXbZY
Today (13-18 August), this year Stockholm Kultur Festival has just started. I am sharing some pictures from 2011 festival. I realize that I don't have that much pictures from street and event photography in my photostream!!! So trying to have some balances :)
My thanks to Arindam Raha for his primate pic via Pexels. A big banana to aka Tman for his selfie and silliness. All transformations via Juxtaposer and Snapseed apps
Realization hits her and she falls to the ground, her face in her hands, her heart torn to pieces, memories racing through her mind, the early morning snuggles, the breakfast in bed, late night movie dates, now all of that was gone, there was no fixing things , no winning her back now.
Self-Realization Fellowship Temple on Sunset Blvd in East Hollywood. (Established by Paramahansa Yogananda in 1942.)
On a feudal world a calamity is spreading from one village to another. Jar Jar Binks is on the loose and his clumsiness is bringing destruction whenever he goes.
Everything the poor villagers tried to stop him was doomed to failure. Shielded by his unbelievable luck the Clumsy Creature was unstoppable.
In order to stop such plague the local lords hired a legendary Bounty Hunter; so skilled not even Jar Jar’s luck can match him.
In fact he quickly takes care of the annoying creature.
Jar Jar: “Yousa cannot kill mesa! Mesa have plot armor!”
Boba Fett: “Maybe yes or maybe not. But I can hurt you a lot and I’m sure the villagers will enjoy that so much!”
Jar Jar: “Ohi, Ohi!"
The action figure is the Bandai “Samurai Version” of Boba Fett. Actually the full name of that series of Samurai inspired figures (they also have Vader, Stormtroopers and Royal Guard) is Bandai Tamashii Nations Movie Realization and Boba is depicted in the Ronin role.
I’m mostly a Lego fan and so my expertise on actions figures may not be great but that Boba Fett action figure is amazing. A bit expensive for its size to be honest, but it’s epic. They managed to merge the original Star Wars concept with the ancient Japanese style and keep it close to iconic Boba’s look. Truly impressive :)
Like I always say, no real hate intended towards characters, creators of characters etc. This is just a parody scene :)
May the Force be with You :)
When you ride to the source...it is amazing to me to capture the moment of realization that you have been delivered...Delivered to the source...the trickle of life that feeds the masses below...The glacier of life... To hear it crack...shift and move thunderously....echoing in the Basin... a stirring moment...one will never forget...