Beatrix la Mew and I dashed out to get a piccy today but with - 4 C, we didn't stay out long!

Stars came out and danced around the North Star across the sky over the deserted old mining camp, as they did during the Gold Rush. All there is left now is the gentle ruin of what could've been and the relics of the dashed dreams.

For a few minutes this evening the sunset turned the Sussex skies to flame, so I dashed out into the churchyard with my camera.

No. 304 Westbourne Grove(once Archer Street) was the home of the Alice S. G. Brown Welfare Centre, founded in 1918 (also known as the Archer Street Infant Welfare Centre).

Alice was the wife of Sidney George Brown, an electrical engineer and inventor who with Alice founded the eponymous company S. G. Brown Ltd in 1910. The company was very successful and became Inter Alia one of the world’s largest manufacturers of naval gyrocompasses. They also branched out into audio equipment and are said to be the first to use the term “loudspeaker”. The Browns were based in the area, at 52 Kensington Park Road.

At the time Alice founded the centre, North Kensington was notorious for its high infant mortality. The centre later moved to the National Health Service which continued to use the building until 2005. It was subsequently converted to mixed commercial and residential use.

The Vegas Tourist is proud to bring you the Barrel Racing event… ten days of the best cowgirls and the fastest turn and burn horses in the sport of rodeo. A cowgirl and her horse enter the arena at full speed, complete a cloverleaf pattern around three barrels (fifty-five gallon plastic drums), and then they race back out of the arena. The cloverleaf pattern is comprised of the three barrels being set in a triangle formation; the cowgirl can either take the right or left barrel first. Cowgirls are not disqualified for touching a barrel.

 

Time is kept by means of an electronic eye (a laser device), measuring the run in hundredths of a second, which means times are very close. If a barrel is knocked over then a five second penalty is added to the time, which almost guarantees the cowgirl no chance at the money. The fastest time is what will win the prize money.

 

Barrel Racing is a combination of several factors to ensure a successful run, how athletic the horse is, how good of a horsewoman and rider the cowgirl is, arena footing – the type of ground and the depth, and even a little luck.

 

The cowgirls and their horses gave a lot of try this year, and the horses dug deep down to give that little bit extra. Some dreams were dashed with a knocked over barrel, which allowed others to fulfill their dreams. Come turn and burn with The Vegas Tourist for Barrel Racing from the NFR.

After a rather difficult winter, we saw this bud last night; the plant is sheltered in the entryway from harsh north and south winds.

 

Dashed out today with makeshift plastic raincoat over the camera--the tripod tolerates rain more readily.

 

FOS! Not of a bird in the rain, but our first flower. Don't generally photograph flowers, but so good to see a bloom in the rain.

 

1/400 sec; f/8; ISO 320

Manual exposure, tripod

 

Many thanks for looking.

Please forgive my grumpiness of late.

October 15, 2018 was a WILD day chasing the Conway Scenic railroad's notch train. Starting off in the valley, it was sunny with some clouds. As we traversed further into the notch, the weather got downright nasty. Wind whipped rain and pea soup fog were on order, and any hopes of seeing foliage were dashed by the famous weather coming down off Mount Washington. After a stop to run around the power, they descended south through Gateway, where I got this eerie shot of the train enshrouded in fog.

Each evening, after the library swung its heavy doors closed, and the last of the dutiful librarians disappeared into the night, the vast network of library rooms were left in the care of two brothers, who acted as caretakers.

And who hosted storytelling sessions for somewhat unconventional listeners.

 

Each night, Manau climbed carefully into a well-worn and comfortable spot high on the leaning shelves, with reams of paper, ink pot and dip-pen in hand - and vanished quietly into the world of his own imagination. Fuelled by a childhood love of mythology and folklore - and by the whispering voices from the volumes and stacks that surrounded him - he scribbled and spun tales of monsters and heroes and men - and of extraordinary worlds far beyond the narrow confines of the page.

 

Meanwhile, Gillespie dashed round the shelves, gathering sheaves of papers, stories and fables written by his brother - and pulling off volumes of well-loved novels, impatient and excited. As the first listeners of the night began to arrive (by wing or by foot, through open windows and creeping from the shadows between shelves), he would rapidly create a tall, tottering tower of books in order to perch atop (albeit a little precariously) and read aloud by candlelight. His animated, vibrant reading made the stories tangible, and breathed life and colour into their characters, so that his audience sighed and gasped aloud, and for a few hours, lived and breathed along with them.

The dragons were the most consistent - and the favourite of all the boys' audiences, as they were not only patient, attentive, and engaged listeners, but who gave off a consistent glow of warmth. But night after night, creatures of all sizes and species found their way to the library, drawn by the promise of yet another story, by the exploration of another world - contained within the pages of a book - and released by both writer and storyteller.

.................................................

Caitlin Moran's amazing recent piece on the joy and alchemy of reading (and on dragons) - got me going with this one.

'...to read is, in truth to be in the constant act of creation. ...with a book, you are the landscape, the sets, the snow, the hero, the kiss - you are the trajectory of the blazing, crashing Zeppelin. You...are terraforming whole worlds in your head.' Moran writes - and she's absolutely spot on.

 

If we lose our libraries, we lose something infinitely precious. Open, unrestricted access to the written word. In a library you do not have to pay to read. To download. To fill your head with the wisdom of centuries of human thought. Anyone can use a library. And sometimes it is just one book, one chapter, one encounter with the written word that a life turns upon. A pebble dropped in a pool with ripples spreading outwards, all through the years beyond the initial moment where stone met water. For children raised in homes where books are not, a library may be that child's only chance. Nope, that didn't take. I'll say it again. A library may be that child's only chance.

~ Debi Gliori

 

And - as a bookseller of many years, and would-be librarian - it also got me thinking about the immense importance of books and accessible knowledge, and of libraries. As more and more of our arts and culture institutions are sacrificed in austerity-fuelled cuts, it feels increasingly vital to hold onto libraries, to maintain these places which offer free knowledge, education and gateways to ideas, thoughts, and history.

'Bookshops are universities that anyone can enter.', said the great Tony Benn - and he was quite right. Libraries are too. And they need to be preserved.

 

...Books are the way that we communicate with the dead. The way that we learn lessons from those who are no longer with us, that humanity has built on itself, progressed, made knowledge incremental rather than something that has to be relearned, over and over. There are tales that are older than most countries, tales that have long outlasted the cultures and the buildings in which they were first told.

~ Neil Gaiman

In a state that is experiencing the most severe drought in its recorded history, I can only imagine what life as a flower must be like.

  

A lot of us don't understand just how severe the situation is. Why do you think lush grassy lawns are still being watered? Why do you think people are still taking 20-minute showers? Haven't these people HEARD and SEEN pictures of how empty our reservoirs are? Don't they KNOW that Southern California will LITERALLY RUN OUT of water in 12-18 months if current trends continue? Nope. Not at all.

  

See, the problem isn't just that we're all ignorant. It's that the water agencies are doing the absolute worst thing possible: they're doing an amazing job at water management in a time of crisis. This is the ultimate paradox: it means the state of emergency and urgency is completely masked to anyone who doesn't experience it firsthand. I water no plants at my cabin and do my laundry every 5-6 weeks. What are you doing to help?

  

Better do something, and cross your fingers for a wet winter... or in a year, we may be finding ourselves writing the end of our own horror movie...

  

Anyway, off the soap box and about the image. I've been looking around the Sierra for a few seasons now for a good field of wildflowers that's open to the sky. It's surprisingly tough. That's probably why you don't see many good wildflower shots in these mountains: most of the best displays are in small (though intimately beautiful!) meadows that are surrounded by tall trees. I stumbled across this open one while hiking on a recent ranger patrol and thought it might be great if the light ever got good. I'd been blue-sky-skunked for an entire MONTH at that point and didn't know if the light would come before the flowers wilted away as the little stream dried up.

  

The next day, the light finally came, so I dashed up the trail and tried to nail my shot. I guess some things were just meant to be!

  

I had to do an exposure stack, focus stack, and a little bit of perspective warping to get this final shot, but I'm really happy with it. Let me know what you think. Before anyone asks, though, I refuse to clone in the missing flower petals -- I think it's the ones that aren't quite perfect that have the best personality :)

 

oh, yeah -- does anyone know what kind of flowers these are? they're about two inches across. I know the red ones are paintbrush.

EDIT: my field guide says Bigelow's Sneezeweed!

  

- Jeff

  

www.landESCAPEphotography.com

  

You can also follow my posts on Facebook.

(I sometimes post shots exclusively on a single site, so hopefully it's worth your time to follow them all!)

  

_____________________

  

please, pretty please, don't use this copyrighted image without my permission. if you're interested in prints, licensing, or just being extra awesome, check out my profile.

Parked up at Lakeside while the driver dashed to the loo is Ensignbus MD60. This Scania Metropolitan is in fine shape following a huge restoration job.

This afternoon I was playing around with my macro lens. I just happened to glance outside and there were some very enticing storm clouds in the sky. I quickly threw my gear in the car and dashed over to Cronulla. Who am I to pass up the opportunity to shoot an intersting, stormy sky? Luckily the rain held off, though it was incredibly windy down on the beach, and there was a pretty big swell. A high tide made shooting very interesting, but what is a little bit of water hey...

 

Camera: Canon EOS Kiss X4

Lens: Canon EF 17-55mm f/2.8 IS USM

Exposure: 0.3 seconds

Aperture: f/14

Focal Length: 17mm

Filters: Cokin P121L and P121M stacked

Another day, hoping that as 6M36 09:54 Drax to Liverpool Biomass Terminal passed through Ashley, the sun would shine. Another day of dashed hopes, this time featuring 60002. The forecast from tomorrow is for rain, meaning my lunchtimes will be less stressful affairs.

My $20 bedroom makeover. The Picked up this duvet set last week on my way back to VA from NJ. Of course I had to stop at IKEA. I dashed in, dashed out and twenty bucks and 3 hours later we have this! I might add that I was extremely bored and had the paint left over from a project my Mom abandoned.

This image is from an overlooking vantage point in the outskirts of Zion National Park. The image is moody. In the distance on the right there are visible traces of rain dashed with warm light. In the center the contested and congested cloudy sky opens up enough for light to shine down on the flat mountainous topography. Rain is falling on the left at distance creating a haziness while in the front right foreground an ominous cloud looks like it will unleash a thunderstorm. In the foreground is a tapestry of forest touched by a mingled and tinted light that gives a warm and inviting feeling. This is nature's moodiness, which even still is replete with beauty. Zion National Park Utah, USA, 25 July 2009.

The sun came out, the sky was blue, wildflowers were out on the cliffs, shot a week or so ago at Freshwater Bay before the rain came and dashed all the talk of a heatwave.

 

Actually, i think that technically its still late spring so no panic yet.

—————————————————

©2014 Jason Swain, All Rights Reserved

This image is not available for use on websites, blogs or other media without the explicit written permission of the photographer.

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my website

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Links to facebook and twitter can be found on my flickr profile

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Don't wait.

“Be perfect”, they said.

“Be patient and kind.”

“Be beautiful.”

“Graceful and innocent.”

“Quiet.”

“If you follow the rules everything will be sunshine and rainbows.”

“Be a pretty little thing in a garden and keep your mouth shut.”

“Keep in line and you get your happy ending.”

  

It’s hard to be everything everyone wants all at once, but she tried. Ever longing for her fairytale to start.

Painted her face just right and curled her hair. Cut her tongue out to keep quiet and bled for her dreams. Stitched on a pair of discarded wings. Stayed pure like they told her to and patiently waited. The picture of everything they wanted her be.

  

And there she stayed; sitting in her garden with the sun on her face. Waiting for all they’d promised.

  

But the wings she sewed on slowly sank out of place and became crooked. The roses dried up and blew away. The leaves fell from the trees and the bare branches scratched against one another in the wind. The sun fell out of sight, and didn’t return. Time passed and the world forgot about her.

  

They said this is how it works. She’d followed all the rules. Where was the perfect life she’d been promised in return? She’d waited for it to start; she’d wasted her life waiting. She didn't even need it to be perfect, just something. Anything. But it never came. She'd waited for nothing.

  

They never taught her how grow things. How to be better than just a beautiful creature. How to be anything more. She turned away from the sky. Silent tears streaking her face. She tried so hard to be good enough, but her happy ending never came. And her heart turned to stone.

  

She could have been so much more.

  

Promises discarded. Expectations dashed. Just a dull grey sky and broken little girl sitting in a garden wanting for everything.

  

Just a pretty little useless statue.

Waiting.

  

Most of the words by Marlena Nicole Lopez

 

Forever grateful that she can take an idea I have and turn it into beautiful writing.

 

Another handmade gown, but you can't see all the details from this shot. That means I can use it again!

"The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands." Psalms 19:1

 

I've been waiting for a beautiful sunset for quite a while now so when I saw that patch of red that dabbled across a blue and yellow sky one afternoon, I dashed for my DSLR.

 

EXPLORE #94 (July 15, 2007)

Yesterdays sunset was so odd...I was in the kitchen and saw this wierd glow...so Clover and I dashed out to see..

It suddenly went very, very dark this afternoon and I dashed outside to see very dramatic storm clouds.

 

So I waited and waited for the storm to come and the much needed rain and its a good job I didn't hold my breath!

 

I LOVE a good storm which is why when I lived in Melbourne it was so fantastic as we used to get some crackers in the Dandenongs where I lived.

 

Alas, Castlerock and our slice of North West coastline doesn't get Thunderstorms and its my one and only disappointment of living here.

 

It did rain and we had three peals of thunder, but nothing that I would write one of my epics about!

 

I will just have to content myself by looking at the clouds!

 

EXPLORED JUL 23RD NO 24

One day I went outside at daybreak and noticed how beautiful the sky was. I think I ran to get my camera before even thinking of my dolls, and then dashed again to get them after taking some shots of the sky. Haha.

I think the Vole inspired the Star Trek episode about tribbles. They are cute and furry and fluffy balls of fur. This one didn't seem to be particularly worried about its audience of three people. But when a dog came around the corner it dashed into the tall grasses.

If voles weren't such prolific breeders the hawks and owls would have decimated them a long time ago.

Salmon Creek Trail, Salmon Creek, Washington

Barry's feet ran against the road, each step melting the ice frozen over.

 

Barry, I found Trickster. Text Joe this address, tell him to bring as many men as he can.

 

August had done it. Barry didn't know how he did, or why the man messaged him over Joe, but it didn't matter. Jay's words to him echoed through his mind with each step taken.

 

"You haven't failed him yet."

 

Bivolo's followed.

 

"Don't ever stop… being a hero."

 

Wally would be saved, Barry would make sure of it.

 

His body came to a halt as he arrived at the address he was texted, a mom and pop shop he'd frequented before. The outside walls were made of brick, with no windows on the second floor. Barry's head turned to his right as bright headlights came into view. As the lights shut off, Barry saw August in the driver's seat.

 

"Detective Heart," Barry said, greeting the man as he stepped out of his car. "Where's Detective West?"

 

It was only as he got close that Barry noticed the bloodstains on August's jacket. "I told a friend to inform the CCPD," he said, eyeing the building. "Let's go."

 

Barry placed a hand in front of August, stopping him in place. "Detective… are you alright?" he asked, eyeing the dried red patterns. "Why are you here alone…"

 

"Listen, Flash, we don't have time to dance around," August said, throwing Barry's arm off of him. "Wally needs us."

 

"Alright, yeah," Barry said, turning towards the building. "One moment."

 

In an instant, Barry dashed into the building, zipping around the ground floor. The dining room was completely void of color, plain tables and chairs being the only thing to fill the room. Stepping into the kitchen, Barry's blood ran cold as he spotted a crimson trail along the tile floor. Following the dried blood, Barry cracked open the freezer, gritting his teeth at the sight. "Dammit," Barry sighed, staring at the restaurant owners laying dead in the freezer.

 

"He's a psychopath," August said, peering over Barry's shoulder.

 

"Detective, I said wait outside!" Barry said, startled. "This place could be booby trapped, it's one of Trickster's mo's."

 

"We don't have time to worry about that and you know it," August said, dismissing Barry and walking through the kitchen. "It's best we leave their bodies there until this thing is over and done with…"

 

Barry grimaced at the thought, but gently closed the freezer door, the man was right about that much. 'August… what happened?' he thought, nearly asking the man in front of him. He couldn't though, his identity needed to stay a secret.

 

The two made their way through the kitchen, eventually finding the staircase tucked away in the corner of the room. "I'm gonna check for tripwires," Barry said, stepping in front of August. "It'll only be a second.

 

"Sure."

 

With a quick dash, Barry sped up the stairs, dismantling three separate wires laying along the steps. Once done, he stood at the top of the staircase, tossing the wires to ground. After nodding to August, Barry turned, opening the door to the second floor.

 

The room was large, filled with oversized toys and trinkets alike. August's footsteps could be heard behind him, but the louder sound was a metal crank from inside the room. Taking a step forward, Barry spotted Jesse, sitting in a bean bag with a weapon in his hand. Wally was strapped to the machine from the video, though it now seemed to glow.

 

'What kind of madman…'

 

"Jesse!"

 

Barry's thought was interrupted by August, who stormed into the room.

 

"August?" Wally asked, looking up at the duo. "Flash! I knew it!"

 

The sound of shifting metal was caught by Barry's ears, his eyes locking onto a moving metal plate below August's feet.

 

"August lookout!"

 

"Detective!" Barry shouted, dashing to August and pushing him from harm's way. Not a moment after a saw blade launched from the floor gap, embedding itself in the ceiling. "Are you okay?" Barry asked, earning a nod in response.

 

"I was really hoping that'd get one of you…" Trickster pouted, hopping up from the beanbag. "You've got good eyes, kid. Too bad they'll be attached to a corpse soon!"

 

"Not on my watch," Barry mumbled, dashing towards Jesse. A speed punch sent the older man backwards, dropping the large weapon he was holding. Jesse smirked, tapping the buckle of his belt. A second later, the dropped weapon exploded, adhesive like goo splattering around the room.

 

Barry attempted to dodge, but the spread of the explosion was too wide, pinning him to the wall. "Dammit!" he shouted, trying to pull himself free. His gaze caught Wally's, his heart dropping at the fear in the boy's eyes.

 

The sound of thunder from outside echoed loudly, causing Jesse to exhibit a wicked smile. "Well, since you're trapped… villainous monologue time!" he shouted with glee. "You're probably wondering, 'What? The detective is still here, he's fumbling.' Well if that's what you're thinking, you're wrong, here's why…"

 

With a press of a button, the ceiling began to open, revealing the night sky above them. Barry's eyes flickered from the forming clouds back down to Jesse. "Let him go, Jesse," he ordered.

 

"Let me finish my monologue!" Jesse replied, clearing his throat. "As you can see here, the West boy is strapped to a brilliant device built by… some guy, I don't remember his name. Anywho, the design is a special one, with blueprints made from your pal Weather Wizard."

 

"Mardon?" Barry asked, eyes widening as he realized the device's true purpose. "Jesse…"

 

"Bingo!" Jesse said, smiling wide. "His brother came to me after the breakout saying how they owe me a favor… something about those mafia folk, always with the favors... I went ahead and cashed it in early."

 

"Why…" Barry asked, trying to pull himself free.

 

"It's meant to be ironic, y'know?" Jesse explained, drawing squiggles on his chest with a finger. "The whole lightning bolt thing is your motif after all, I thought it was self explanatory."

 

"Not the device, why Wally!?" Barry shouted, pulling on the adhesive to no avail. "He did nothing to you! He's not a part of this!"

 

"Not a part of this, hm?" Jesse asked, bringing his hand to his chin. "If I remember correctly, an Iris West interrupted our little squabble, no? She wasn't a part of this either."

 

"It's not the same and you know it!"

 

Suddenly, August charged Jesse, striking him with a rising elbow. Following up the attack with a left hook, August sent the villain to the ground, now bleeding from the mouth. "Stop trying to reason with him!" August shouted towards Barry. Jesse looked up at August with a smile, earning a kick to the head.

 

Jesse rolled to the side, avoiding a second kick. Grabbing onto August's foot, he tripped the detective, pulling him to the ground. Pressing a button on his belt, his hand inflated, now mimicking a boxing glove. Slamming his hand down, he landed a brutal strike in August, tearing the man's lip open. A second strike caused a mixture of spit and blood to fly, painting the floor.

 

August blocked the third strike, using the momentum to flip Jesse over his head. Pulling himself to a stand, August kicked Jesse in the ribs, twice, before grabbing him by the collar. Dragging the man to a stand, August pinned Jesse against the wall, punching him in the face once more.

 

"How do we turn it off!?" August shouted as more thunder rolled in.

 

"Oh honey…" Jesse said, giggling, "you can't turn it off. That's the trick!"

 

August's eyes widened, his head swivelling to look at Wally. The boy was shaking in the chair, tears running down his face and mouth parted. "August?" he mumbled, staring into his eyes.

 

"Let him go… now!"

 

Barry watched as August interrogated Jesse, his eyes shifting to Wally every so often. He was stuck. His arms were bound and he couldn't phase his body out of the adhesive. He was stuck watching Wally die. Stuck watching August suffer.

 

He was stuck as another person died before his eyes.

 

A sound akin to a hummingbird began to resonate throughout the room.

 

He was stuck, unable to save even one person.

 

Wind began to pick up, swirling around Barry.

 

He was stuck while his brother fell into the same madness he was.

 

His body began to vibrate uncontrollably.

 

"Not… again!" Barry shouted, both Wally and August's heads shifting to him. "I won't sit by and watch him die!"

 

The wind in the room became stronger as various toys and trinkets were pulled into its funnel. The goo stuck to Barry was pushed off him, his body beginning to rotate at insane speeds. Barry was spinning his entire body like a hurricane, like The Top. Stopping in place, the wind dispersed, the goo splattering along the floor and walls, toys scattering around the room.

 

Another crackle of thunder sounded off, causing Barry's eyes to sparkle with golden light.

 

Barry felt time around him freeze. The blue of the lightning lit up the room as it traveled downward, directly towards Wally. It was moving fast, too fast. He still couldn't phase another person, it was too risky. The restraints were welded shut, so he wouldn't be able to pry Wally out of the chair.

 

He couldn't just stand and watch Wally die.

 

So he ran.

 

His body crashed through the brick of the building's wall, falling from the second story to the street below. His left arm was now shattered from the impact, hanging limply at his side, but it didn't matter. None of that mattered.

 

The moment his feet hit the ground, sounds of thunder resonated throughout the night. He was off. Each step he took cracked the pavement beneath him. Each movement caused every overworked muscle in his body to burn. Each second he took was another chance Wally could die.

 

'Faster,' he thought, lightning sparking off his body like a firework as he sped up even further. 'Faster, Barry! C'mon!'

 

The sonic boom that followed obliterated windows from the buildings he passed, filling the road and sidewalks with broken glass. Street signs were bent and trees fell over, as if Barry's speed was an aura, ravaging the world around him. He needed to make it, CCPD was a block away. He had to make it.

 

Prepping his right arm, Barry burst into the CCPD, blowing the doors off the building. People in the lobby were sent careening back, but all Barry could do was hope they'd be unharmed. The shard of glass now lodged in Barry's bicep went almost unnoticed as the man ran up the stairs, stumbling into his lab.

 

The rack of chemicals practically glowed in the night, each different colored vial and beaker shining brightly. Raising his stabbed arm, he began grabbing the vials, mixing them together to create one single concoction.

 

'Need to be faster than the reaction,' he thought, dipping his finger into the mixture to stir, ignoring the burn. 'Faster than lightning… Faster than-'

 

Barry capped the mixture, gripping it tightly as he launched himself out through the Lab's window, riddling his body with glass. The landing was ungraceful, Barry's knees buckling from the pressure, causing him to stumble. His hand held a firm grip on the chemicals, lightning flashing across his eyes.

 

He could see the lightning strike from blocks away, he wasn't going to make it. With a guttural scream, Barry launched forward, tearing his boots to shreds. The glass lodged in his body cracked and crumbled from the sheer speed he was going, leaving the bloody shards all along the street.

 

"Move!" he cried out as he approached the building.

 

Like a catapult, Barry launched himself through the hole he'd made with a single leap. As he reentered the building, the lightning strike was centimeters away from Wally. His body was careening through the air and he had no time to stop himself. If he crashed, it would be too late.

 

He had no options left, so he launched the chemicals forward, the vial spiraling through the air like a football. His body came crashing down onto the floor, his already shattered arm taking even more damage. As he rolled along the ground, his eyes caught Wally's own.

 

Then thunder struck as the lightning bolt connected with the vial.

 

The room exploded with light, the force sending Barry's broken body flying into the wall. August and Jesse were both knocked down, the latter's head slamming against the brick wall in the process.

 

As the light faded, Barry opened his eyes, looking for any signs of life from Wally. Tears began to fall as his gaze locked onto the ginger boy, standing unharmed from the lightning. Barry took note of the ice blue electricity that sparked off his body, giving him an ethereal glow. The corners of Barry's mouth curved slightly, a small giggle slipping from his lips.

 

He saved him.

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NEXT TIME: Homebound, a New Door Opens!

I had hoped that the matched trio of leased PRLX geeps would be leading when I heard 706 but a SD40-2 dashed that hope.

Ektachrome slide dated June 1971.

 

Originally posted on Ipernity: Alaska Or Bust.

quick collage dashed off on the back of an envelope

Thankfully I'd cleaned the windows a couple of days ago because I only had time to take this shot through the double glazing of the closed window !

 

I spotted a largish bird sat preening on the fence while checking my emails in the studio this morning but the angle and strength of the sun prevented an immediate ID. Luckily I doubted my first thought (pigeon) and moved through into the bedroom to look from a different angle out of the sun saw my mistake and dashed to grab a camera from yet another room !

Luckily it was still there when I returned camera in hand and I fired a few shots through the closed window which was just as well as it was off the minute I attempted to open it.

 

Beautiful looking bird whose eyes seem to pierce right through you.

Unfortunately I couldn't get an angle shooting from the window to get the whole bird or a clean shot without obstacles.

Another in the Series...

 

View On Black

 

Rare sunny Day in September we dashed out to countryside with a few props and a black bedsheet as a shawl and had a laugh with the camera.

 

Ilford HP5 Dev in Ilfosol 3 dev at 1:14 dilution .Development details on FilmDev

Printed 8'x10' on Ilford MGIV Glossy and scanned in my old flatbed, hence lines

 

Had received word of the XRN's, so I dashed down to Pennant Hills to get them. Before they arrived, I got the bonus of CEY004 leading CA07 southbound.

Whilst I have taken shots at Pennant Hills regularly, I have rarely been there to take photos at the last light of the day and post evening peak movements. The joy of daylight savings means that while in previous times I have seen this movement through Pennant Hills it was dark, it is now still daylight allowing for the challenge of different conditions and set up for the photo

I was hoping those two young people walking towards me would stop and chat. Alas . . .

 

Am I too intimidating?

.

Abused & Abandoned Street Dogs.

 

There was the smell of rain in the air while

zipping down the road on my way to

The Monkey Temple. Angry dark

clouds hung low full of H20.

 

I was running a 1/2 an hour late but in reality

it is only my own schedule so no big deal ;-)

 

As usual Mama & Rocky went nuts when I pulled

into The Dog Palace. They crashed and dashed

while telling me all their problems in my absence.

 

Scooter was unloaded, Bingo Room is opened

and aired out. No power today so no fans or light.

The Tube is loaded, camera is checked then off we

go into The DMZ. Monkeys were scattering as Mama

& Rocky are full of energy & chashing everyone of them.

 

Finally we crossed the broken concrete walking bridge

and picked up Baby Bean Brain on the way to the nuns.

Coffee/tea and printed A4 photos are handed off to them.

 

Took a couple minutes and checked the linoleum

that I laid in the nuns bungalows, all looks good.

At that point Mama, Rocky, Mickey and I took off

for The Spirit House where they are fed breakfast.

 

Now remember the angry clouds were mentioned ?

 

I kept glancing up keeping an eye on the angry sky !

Occasionally a few raindrops fell but so far so good.

 

The Hooligans were all cared for as was

Mr Ed, the guppies and all the others.

After Rocky and Mama escorted me

back to The Dog Palace where all

the stuff was stashed we went

back to the nuns for their

brushing and my

field bath.

 

Mama has a monkey bite on the side of

her face that has turned into a Hot-Spot.

That was addressed, meds were left

with the nuns for further repair.

 

I circled back to The Dog Palace

& left special food 4 Molly & Crew.

 

Half way home the sky had turned dark gray.

I could see a giant dark wall of water coming.

 

Put the rain coat on and pressed on into the dark

wall of water. Similar to walking into Niagara Falls.

 

Whoa, By the time I got home my whole

body is completely soaked to the bone !

 

Thing is we are in a drought so rain is good ;-)

 

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Jon&Crew.

 

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Quick shot from the hip on Middle Meadow Walk, taken back in August but not uploaded for some reason. We were starting to see more people out and about after months of Lockdown, as the restriction eased, but before the second wave dashed so many of our hopes

After a tipoff that this would be doing a couple of instrument approaches into Aberdeen I dashed to get there. "Gauntlet 58" an A400M, the newest aircraft in the Royal Air Force's inventory, practiced a VOR NDB approach and then an ILS approach before heading to Teeside.

A graffiti in the Berlin bourough of Charlottenburg, found on a house wall in the Spandauer Damm (in English: "Spandau Causeway"), City of Berlin, Germany

 

Some background information:

 

As the graffiti has a monogram (that can be seen in the right bottom corner of this photo), it can be attributed to the English graffiti artist Jamie Paul Scanlon. The graffiti even has a name, which is "Girl on Swing". In 1977, Scanlon was born in Weston-Super-Mare. When two of his best friends died by the time he was 19, he was dashed to the ground. As a result, he became homeless, as well as addicted to alcohol and drugs. In 2009, after he had hit rock bottom, one of his friends took him along to Banksy’s excellent museum exhibition. This experience inspired him and he began to face up his problems with drinking and drugs.

 

At that time, he also started to create his first works of arts, only equipped with a rusty scalpel and some cans of spray paint. In my opinion, the influence of Banksy on Scanlon is still clearly visible, although Scanlon has developed his own unique artistic style. Today, Scanlon lives in the little Northern Bavarian town of Lohr am Main. Hence, he has also relocated the geographic focus of his works to Germany. However, many of his works can still be found in Weston-Super-Mare and other places in England.

 

Berlin is the capital and largest city of Germany by both area and population. Its 3.7 million inhabitants make it also the European Union's most populous city, according to population within city limits. Berlin’s urban area has even a population of 4.7 million, while its metropolitan area of more than 5.3 million, which makes it the European Union’s third most populous city, according to population within the metropolitan area. The city of Berlin is also one of Germany's sixteen constituent states. Berlin is surrounded by the State of Brandenburg and contiguous with Potsdam, Brandenburg's capital.

 

Berlin straddles the banks of the Spree river, which flows into the Havel (a tributary of the Elbe) in the western borough of Spandau. Among the city's main topographical features are the many lakes in the western and southeastern boroughs formed by the rivers Spree, Havel and Dahme, the largest of which is Lake Mueggelsee. About one-third of the city's area is composed of forests, parks, gardens, rivers, canals, and lakes.

 

In 1237, the town of Koelln, which was situated on an river island of the Spree and nowadays is a central part of Berlin, was first mentioned in a document. In 1244, also the town of Berlin was documented first, which was located on the northeastern bank of the river Spree. However, archaeological excavations have proven that both settlements, which sat at the crossing of two important trade routes, already existed in the 12th century. Subsequently both towns grew together.

 

In 1356, the Margarviate of Brandenburg became an electorate and in 1417, Berlin became its capital. In 1539, prince-elector Joachim II Hector from the reigning House of Hohenzollern established the reformation in Berlin, which was accepted peacefully by the city’s inhabitants. But the Thirty Years’ War from 1618 to 1648 had devastating consequences for Berlin. One third of all houses was damaged and the number of citizens was halved.

 

In 1640, Frederick William, popularly known as the "Great Elector", took the government business over from his father. Just one year later, the suburbs of Friedrichswerder, Dorotheenstadt and Friedrichstadt were founded. Prince-elector Frederick William also pursued a policy of immigration and religious tolerance. Jewish families from Austria were rehomed in Berlin and Huguenots from France were invited, 5,000 of which settled in the city. A lot of immigrants also came from Poland, Bohemia and the state of Salzburg, which belonged to the Bavarian Circle at that time. Finally, Frederick William converted the town into a fortress with altogether 13 bastions.

 

When Frederick I was crowned King of Prussia in 1701, Berlin became Prussia’s capital. After the towns of Berlin, Koelln, Friedrichswerder, Dorotheenstadt and Friedrichstadt had finally merged in 1709, the total population climbed to 55,000. In the course of the 18th century, Berlin evolved into a centre of Enlightenment. After Prussia had been defeated by the French under Napoleon in 1806, King Frederick William III fled to the city of Königsberg in the very east of Prussia. Shortly afterwards the city was occupied by French troops, which stayed until 1808.

 

In the middle of the 19th century, the Industrial Revolution reached Berlin with all its might. Many new factories popped up outside the city walls and new important companies like Siemens, Borsig and AEG were founded. Hence, also new working class quarters emerged. Berlin was soon considered as an industrial city and the dire living conditions of the workers fostered the formation of a very strong working-class movement.

 

When Germany became an empire in 1871 and the Prussian King William I became its first emperor, the Prussian capital Berlin was naturally designated the capital of the new German Empire. In 1877, Berlin’s total population exceeded one million, and in 1905, the city already had two million inhabitants. After Germany had lost World War I in 1918, Germany was proclaimed to be a republic in Berlin. General strikes and uprisings in the following months were quelled violently and cost the lives of hundreds of people.

 

But Berlin recovered soon. In the Weimar Republic the city flourished and became the place to be in Europe. During the Golden Twenties, Berlin experienced its heyday as a major world city. Its population rose to four million and thus, Berlin became the third-largest city in the world, only outreached by New York and London.

 

After Adolf Hitler’s rise to power, Berlin was still the capital of Nazi Germany. Hitler and his architect Albert Speer planned to convert the city into the so-called "World Capital Germania", but fortunately most of the megalomaniac Nazi plans were never realised. However, during the Nazi era, Berlin’s great Jewish community was extinguished completely.

 

During Word War II, the city was widely destroyed by allied bomb raids and the street battles in the final days of the war. The Battle of Berlin ended with Hitler’s suicide in the bunker of Reich Chancellery and the Soviet capture of the city. Afterwards the town was divided into four occupation zones, three of them forming West Berlin, while the Soviet zone forming East Berlin. West Berlin became a de facto exclave of West Germany on the territory of Soviet-held East Germany, while East Berlin was made the capital of the newly founded German Democratic Republic. However, West Berlin was substituted as West Germany’s capital with the city of Bonn.

 

In 1948, the Soviet Union blocked the Western Allies’ access to their sectors of Berlin for almost a year. To carry supplies to the people of West Berlin, the Berlin Airlift was organised. American and British air forces flew over Berlin more than 250,000 times, dropping necessities such as fuel and food, with the original plan being to lift 3,475 tons of supplies daily. As this number was often met twofold by the so-called "raisin bombers", the Soviet Union lifted its unsuccessful blockade of West Berlin in May 1949.

 

In 1961, the German Democratic Republic commenced the construction of the Berlin Wall. The Soviet Bloc propaganda portrayed the Wall as protecting East Berlin’s population, while the West Berlin city government referred to it as the "Wall of Shame". Berlin families were suddenly separated by the Wall, but during its existence, more than 100,000 people attempted to escape. 5,000 of them succeeded, but an estimated number of 200 was killed by the Wall’s mine belt, its spring guns or the gunfire of the guards.

 

In 1989, a peaceful revolution ended the separation of Germany and with that also the separation of Berlin. Germany was finally reunified on 3rd October 1990. In the following year, Berlin was again declared the capital of Germany and also its seat of the government. Today, the city is a very vibrant megapolis with twelve boroughs. But Berlin’s authorities are generally classed as being inefficient and in need of modernisation. It’s also a great nuisance for many Germans, that a lot of money from other German states is transferred to the capital, where it is often used without any sense.

Moby Dick is my favorite American novel, and Melville inspires my landscape and seascape photography! “But as in landlessness alone resides the highest truth, shoreless, indefinite as God - so better is it to perish in that howling infinite, than be ingloriously dashed upon the lee, even if that were safety! For worm-like, then, oh! who would craven crawl to land!” ― Herman Melville, Moby Dick

 

Malibu Sunset Landscape Seascape Photography! California Pacific Ocean Breaking Storm Colorful Clouds Sunset! Sony A7R II Mirrorless & Vario-Tessar T* FE 16-35mm f/4 ZA OSS Lens SEL1635Z! Scenic Sunset California Seascape Landscape Vista! Carl Zeiss Glass Fine Art Photography!

 

Epic Art & 45EPIC Gear exalting golden ratio designs for your Hero's Odyssey:

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Support epic fine art! 45surf ! Bitcoin: 1FMBZJeeHVMu35uegrYUfEkHfPj5pe9WNz

 

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Portrait, Swimsuit, Lingerie, Boudoir, Fine Art, & Fashion Photography Exalting the Venus Goddess Archetype: How to Shoot Epic ... Epic! Beautiful Surf Fine Art Portrait Swimsuit Bikini Models!

 

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Ralph Waldo Emerson. The happiest man is he who learns from nature the lesson of worship.

 

Henry David Thoreau, Walden: Or, Life in the Woods: We need the tonic of wildness...At the same time that we are earnest to explore and learn all things, we require that all things be mysterious and unexplorable, that land and sea be indefinitely wild, unsurveyed and unfathomed by us because unfathomable. We can never have enough of nature.

Hit 'L' to check this out on black.

I shot this last week. Again it was a grabbed 45 minutes via some shopping in town. The sunset developed into a really memorable one, and I have to say I was in my element. I dashed out to an outcrop of rock when the waves retreated a bit, got lined up for this shot, only to be swamped by the incoming tide a few seconds later. More wet wellies and socks :)

Thankfully the whole beach is now back to how I like it, with less sand and more amazing polished slate rocks. Have a good weekend, and thanks for looking.

 

If you would like further information about the 1 to 1, and small group workshops I run in Cornwall, then please contact me through my website. Links to which are on my profile page. www.flickr.com/people/24562498@N03/

 

Camera Canon EOS 5D Mark II

Exposure 0.4

Aperture f/14.0

Focal Length 20 mm

ISO Speed 100

Exposure Bias +1/3 EV

There is a photo to be had everywhere even from your garden, this beautiful colour was very short lived but I spotted it and dashed outside and shot for the highlights to maintain the tree silhouette and the highlights in the clouds.

Don't come with me, I won't set you free, cause that's not where you need to be. - Red Fang

 

Painted Parade

Louis Mendes is a famous New York City street photographer but I had no idea who he was when I met him briefly outside the B&H store in New York. As usual I was trying to keep up with the rest of the family and he very politely asked me if I wanted my photo taking. I replied 'No thanks - but I'll take yours.' A quick shot, a single opportunity, he was not amused. I had a chat to him about the camera, declined the offer of a tip (I'm British, from Yorkshire and Welsh so say no more) and dashed off to catch up with wife and daughter in law, who were totally unaware of this chance encounter. I think this is one of the favourite photos I have taken in recent years. A man with presence, style and a perfect blend of man and machine.

 

Two treatments, this is the Lightroom adjusted image processed with the Nik Silver Efex Pro 2 plugin. I would be interested to know which is preferred.

 

The Nik software has cut the image a little with the frame, using Photoshop I have printed one of these with better framing by extending the canvas size to 104% without cutting off the hat and camera. Looks better.

RBMN NQPI blasts past the CNJ installed searchlights at CRESTWOOD Which is the south end of the short section of double track between here and Soloman's Gap. Getting here with crossing gates down and the girlboss "Hooting and Tooting away" I dashed down the right of way to grab the shot Ive always wanted, steam at this HOT lookin interlocking.

 

Ektachrome 100 thats been bullied into not looking like junk by my photoshop.

Barry shook the debris off his shoulders, his head stinking from the rough crash.

 

The moment he'd seen Iris plummeting from the sky, he knew he had to act as fast as he could. He'd bolted to the nearest fire escape, climbing the metal at super speed, and being quick enough to catch the woman midair.

 

"The Flash?" Mardon called, hovering above Barry and Iris. "You don't look like the Flash I remember."

 

"Wait."

 

"Huh?"

 

Barry watched Eddie turn back to his room, the pace at which he moved being much faster than before.

 

"I've… got something," he called, his voice straining. "You're gonna need it if you're going out there."

 

"Mr. Jones, I don't have ti-"

 

"There!" he shouted, interrupting Barry mid-sentence. "A hero… has got to have a uniform."

 

Eddie stepped out of the room, his open hand now carrying a duffle bag. His hand extended, Barry accepting the bag and sliding the zipper.

 

Barry's eyes widened as he looked into the black back, his gaze shooting up to Eddie. "Well, I told you… I was a big fan of his…"

 

Barry smiled, nodding to him. "I'll make sure to put it to good use."

 

"Let's just say… I needed a makeover," Barry announced. "Now, I'm gonna need you to stop, Mardon."

 

"I'm the Weather Wizard now, Flash!" Mardon yelled, his wand waving in the air. "I won't fail… and you definitely won't stop me."

 

Barry's expression steeled, his head turning to Iris. "Ma'am, get out of here," he ordered, lightning dancing around his body. "I'll take care of Mardon."

 

The woman was hesitant, looking between the two costumed men before nodding, running from the scene.

 

Barry brought himself to a running stance, eyes locked onto the floating man. Mardon's arm swung forward, his wand dragging a bolt of lightning to where Barry stood.

 

Moving as fast as he could, Barry dashed to the right, only barely avoiding the lightning strike. Another streak of lightning came crashing down, this time destroying a sedan near Barry. The car's explosion sent Barry crashing into a lamp post, yelling in pain as his back hit the metal.

 

With another wave of his wand, Mardon sent a gust of wind directly at Barry. The blast sent him into the air, his body crashing through an apartment complex's window. Barry brought himself to a stand, the force of a second wind blast bringing down the brick wall of the building.

 

Barry pushed the bricks off his body, his skin under his suit beginning to bruise. The explosion had seared his costume, his chest now exposed. "You don't need to get in my way, Flash," Mardon yelled from outside, now floating outside the broken wall. "Just walk away… you don't need to die."

 

"And what?" Barry said, standing up, swaying slightly. "Just let people die? No… I'm not going to let you hurt anyone."

 

"I don't want… to hurt anyone," Mardon added, swirling his wand in the air. "But I have a goal… and I will reach it no matter what."

 

A bolt of lightning shot through the apartment, Barry sidestepping to dodge. Carrying his momentum, Barry stepped onto the apartment's couch leaping from it towards Mardon.

 

The punch connected with Mardon's jaw, sending him to the ground with a crash. Barry rolled into a parked car, denting the metal with the impact.

 

Mardon stood, swinging his wand upward. Barry was hit by an uppercut of air, the car flipping onto its side. Barry recovered, dashing back at Mardon. His hands moved quickly, landing multiple blows against Mardon's torso.

 

"Get… back!" Mardon screamed, a tornado of wind blasting from his wand. Barry slid backwards, this time keeping on his feet. "I'll kill you if I have to!"

 

"Stop trying to imitate your father!" Barry screamed, Mardon's eyes widening at the words. "The Weather Warlock was a criminal! Why would you use this… amazing power to hurt others?"

 

"You… remember," Mardon mumbled, his voice shaky.

 

"You don't have to go down this path… Mardon," Barry said, his breath short. "You can still make this right… still be a hero…"

 

Mardon's expression darkened. "I don't… give a damn about heroes or villains…" Barry frowned, lightning sparking around him once again. "I'm going to be remembered… the world will remember me!"

 

The sky darkened, a mass of black clouds began converging above Mardon. A column of wind formed around the two of them, a small rebreather extending over Mardon's mouth. Barry could feel his oxygen leaving him as the tornado swirled around him.

 

"I warned you!" Mardon screamed, debris entering the tornado. "You caused this!"

 

Barry began to feel lightheaded, his vision blurring as rubble flew around him. A chunk building slammed into his side and knocked the remaining wind out of him.

 

"I won't be forgotten!"

 

Barry blitzed, no air in his lungs at all. His vision was dark and his body felt cold. He couldn't give up, however. His legs shot him in the air, landing atop a car door that was flying through the vortex. He jumped again, running along a street lamp as if it were a track. Leaping from the debris, Barry cocked back his fist as his body soared toward Mardon.

 

Mardon's eyes widened, lightning reflecting off of his iris'.

 

"I'll do it dad… I promise."

 

-^-

 

Joe slammed his car door shut. The entire city block was ripped to shreds; debris scattered along the street, dust mixing with the falling snow. What caught his attention more than anything else, however, was the man that stood in front of the museum.

 

His clothing was tattered, a red cloth mask covering his face. His posture was bad, his body swaying slightly as he huffed. Laid under him, knocked unconscious, was Marco Mardon. The red-clad man held the silver rod that Marco had been using, snapping it over his knee.

 

"Uncle Joe!"

 

Joe's head turned, spotting his red-haired niece running up to him. Her jacket was burnt up, her sweater underneath singed in odd patterns along the arms. Joe removed his trench coat, draping it over the woman's shoulders.

 

"Stay warm, sweetheart…" he said, hugging her. As he pulled away, his eyes drifted to the man standing in front of the museum. "Who the hell is that?"

 

Iris looked at the man as well, a smile stretching across her face. "That's... The Flash."

 

-^-

 

"It's been three weeks since the attack on Central City by Marco Mardon, better known as the Weather Wizard. The costumed villain's assault on the Museum caused great property damage, but ended when a red suited man dubbing himself 'the Flash' showed up on the scene."

 

Barry took a sip of orange juice; his legs kicked up on the coffee table in front of him and his arm rested on the back of the couch.

 

"That guy is so sick," Daniel said, a bite of pancake in his mouth. "I mean, the Flash? That's just so cool."

 

"It's not like it's something new," August said, chiming in. "The Flash has been around since the 20's. I just wonder what made him come back. Now, I mean."

 

"A Weather controlling super villain might do the trick," Iris said, causing August to roll his eyes. "Whatever the reason, I'm glad he did show up. If he didn't…"

 

"Hey now," Joe interrupted, pouring himself a coffee, "don't get caught up on what-ifs. He was there and he saved you."

 

"I know… I'm just glad that no one was hurt… especially you," she said, looking at Barry with a deathly glare. "At a friend's house… what friends do you have?"

 

"What? I have friends!" Barry said defensively.

 

"Oh yeah?" Iris challenged. "Name one that isn't Patty or in this room."

 

"Uh…"

 

August spit out his coffee as he doubled over in laughter. "Not on the carpet…" Joe sighed, shaking his head.

 

"The Jade-Eyed ball of Jealousy is back…" Daniel commented under his breath, Iris tossing a pancake at his head.

 

"Why would you… there's syrup in my hair!" Daniel shouted, turning to Iris.

 

"Aww, what's wrong?" she mocked, waving a bite of pancake in the air. "The baby gonna cry?"

 

"That's it!" Daniel shouted, leaping up and tackling Iris.

 

Barry smiled, putting his orange juice down on the coffee table before lifting Daniel off of Iris and holding him. "Get him Iris," he said while laughing.

 

"This is biased!" Daniel shouted as Irissmacked him repeatedly with a pancake.

 

"Two versus one isn't very fair, Barry," August announced, smacking Barry's head with a pillow. "Let's even these odds."

 

The sound of the front door opening caused everyone to stop roughhousing. Stepping inside was a shorter boy with bright orange hair and freckles along his face.

 

"You guys are already having a smackdown!?" the boy shouted, disappointment lacing his words. "That's fine, the Wall-Man is about to show out!"

 

"Wally you jump into that and I'm returning every one of them damn Christmas presents I bought you," Joe said, stopping the boy in his tracks.

 

"But Uncle Joe…"

 

"No buts, outside, all of you," Joe ordered, all four of the young adults moving to get their winter coats on. Wally 180'd, running back to the door and swinging it open.

 

He was stopped by Rudy West, who walked in before he could exit.

 

"Sorry, we'd have been here last night but the snow is only just starting to calm down," Rudy explained, eyebrow cocking at the mess in the living room.

 

"Oh, they'll be cleaning that up later, don't worry," Joe said, causing his nephew to chuckle.

 

"So, mom and dad not here yet?" he asked, taking off his winter coat.

 

"Nadine had a last minute surgery she had to perform, she won't be here until dinnertime," Joe explained, taking a sip of his coffee, "and Ira is still filing paperwork for that Mardon business."

 

"Me and Wally saw that on TV," Rudy said, sitting down on the couch. "I know it's… not a subject you're big on."

 

Joe lowered his head, staring into his steaming coffee. "I don't like these masked freaks… or metas… but that Flash guy… he saved your sister," Joe explained, looking up at Rudy. "So for now… he's alright in my book."

 

Barry smiled from the stairs. He knew Joe's trauma… the pain that the Eradicator caused him and Daniel. Knowing that he had Joe's support… he knew he was doing the right thing.

 

"Move it, slowpoke," Iris joked, lightly pushing Barry.

 

"You're all acting like children, you know," Joe said, calling to the four leaving the house.

 

"You love us anyways," August snapped back, shooting a finger gun at Joe as he walked out.

 

"Alright, we're gonna have uneven teams…" Daniel said, realizing there are 5 people now.

 

"Don't worry about it, I'll fly solo," August said, already holding a snowball. "I'm so good it's like there's two of me."

 

"I don't want to hear complaining then, August," Iris said, grabbing ahold of Barry by the hand. "Let's go, partner."

 

Barry smirked, nodding his head. He and Iris quickly crafted a wall of snow, the sound of snowballs smacking against it already being heard. Barry quickly made a handful of ammunition, giving half to Iris.

 

"Let's take these chu-"

 

"What the hell are a bunch of grown ass adults doing having a snowball fight?"

 

Barry looked to the sidewalk, smiling as he saw Eddie and Buster. "Mr. Jones! I'm glad you could make it!"

 

"Well, I don't got anywhere else to spend Christmas Eve," he said with a chuckle. "So, where's ya compe-"

 

Barry's eyes widened as a snowball splattered against Eddie's face. Peeking out from his fort was August, who cringed at his aim.

 

"Nice job!" Daniel yelled out, laughter pouring from him. "You need two of you with that accuracy!"

 

"Buster… take my cane," Eddie said, handing the dog his cane. Buster took it like a stick, trotting up and sitting on the porch. "I'm gonna show you what a real snowball fight looks like."

 

Barry smiled, ducking for cover as Eddie began building a fort of his own.

 

This is why he was given these extraordinary powers. He had to protect this; he had to protect everything and everyone he loved. Otherwise, they wouldn't be able to laugh and smile like this. It was his duty to protect them… at any cost.

 

-^-

 

Barry flipped the welders helmet he wore up, admiring his own handy work.

 

In front of him was a bright red suit, gold and dark red highlights running throughout the design. The costume was made of reinforced carbon fibers Eddie had given him, he'd explained they were from one of his own old suits.

 

"That's looking like a fine costume," Eddie said from the doorway. "Lot different from Jay's costume though."

 

"Well," Barry said, looking down at his work once again. "I accomplished that aspect at least."

 

-^-

 

Jay stood in front of his display stand. On it rested a bright red jacket with a lightning bolt running up from the bottom. Tall red boots with additional golden wings sat under the blue denim pants. Atop it all was his signature bowl helmet, shining silver and gold.

 

The comforting hand of his wife on his shoulder made him turn his head, a small smile appearing on his face. "I can't believe we missed Tahiti," Jay said, making his wife laugh.

 

"I think it was for a good reason," Joan said with a smile. "I think you ought to look for that boy."

 

Jay's eyes focused on the golden lightning bolt of the jacket. "I think I ought to as well, dear."

 

-^-

 

"The Weather Wizard… looks like this city is getting a whole lot stranger," a blond man said as he tinkered with a sidearm.

 

"The speedster showing up isn't going to be very good for us, Snart," a second man said as he fiddled with a bullet. "These things aren't gonna do much."

 

"Worry not, Roy," Snart said, cocking back his side arm and aiming down the sights. "I've never botched a heist…" pulling the trigger, a bullet was shot into the corkboard on the wall, the hole directly through the Flash's picture.

 

"And I don't have any plans to alter that status."

 

-^-

 

"A grand return. How wonderful… oh so very wonderful," a man said, cackling as he laid out multiple prank-like objects on a table.

 

"Let's see if you're still as quick as you used to be, Flash."

 

-^-

 

"Weather Wizard… how corny."

 

As the black gloves hand tapped on the TV screen, the box crumbled to dust.

 

"You say that like your name isn't the Eradicator," a second voice said, one distorted by a voice modulator.

 

"Oh, there's a difference," the first voice said, his head looking down at the newspaper on the floor. "His stunt will be forgotten in weeks."

 

The man stepped on the paper, turning to traverse an alleyway. The second man grabbed the paper, reading the contents.

 

Wanted: Creed Philips, known as the Eradicator. If any information is known about him, please report it to the CCPD.

 

A blue flame lit at the bottom of the paper, searing it as the wind took it.

 

"Let's go, Monger," the first man said, looking over his shoulder. "Sounds like the big man's calling."

 

-^-

 

The noise of the cell door unlocking caused Marco to raise his head. Standing in the cellblock were two officers, as well as the assistant warden of Iron Heights Penitentiary, Gregory Wolfe.

 

"Get up, scumbag," Wolfe snarled, sliding the cell door open. "You got a visitor." Marco didn't respond, his head still hung, his face devoid of emotion.

 

Wolfe's scowl grew angrier, stepping into the cell and picking Marco up by the collar. "You're lucky Warden Wells even gives a damn about you pieces of human garbage," he yelled, shaking Marco in the air. "I'd have you bastards locked away in the darkest depths of this damn hellhole!"

 

"Sir," one of the guards spoke, causing Wolfe to set Marco down.

 

"Let's go," he scoffed, one of the guards moving behind Marco to push him along.

 

Marco was moved to the visitor center of the prison, his body pushed onto an open chair.

 

He heard someone take a seat on the other side of the glass, but his head stayed down. A knock on the glass caused his eyes to peer up, widening upon the sight of his brother.

 

His hand raised, hesitating to take hold of the phone. Taking a deep, yet shaky breath, he took hold of the phone.

 

"Hey."

 

"Hi… Dio."

 

The two sat silent for a moment, both staring at each other's faces. Marco felt regret. He felt sorry, like he screwed things up for good.

 

"Dio…," he started, swallowing the lump in his throat, "Dio I'm sorry… I just… I wanted you to-"

 

"You were amazing out there."

 

Marco's eyes widened. "What?" he breathed out, mouth in an 'o' shape.

 

"Your… your wand, it was incredible," Claudio praised, smiling at his younger brother. "You, you nearly beat that guy… I don't understand how you were able to make something so… spectacular."

 

"But… but I failed…" Marco said, tears pooling in his eyes.

 

"You didn't win, but have you seen the news?" he asked. "Everyone knows who the Weather Wizard is. Everyone knows who you, Marco Mardon, is. You've brought so much business to us… everyone wants to work with the Weather Wizard as soon as they can."

 

Marco's head fell again, tears leaking onto the countertop. 'I did it dad,' he thought as tears fell from his eyes. 'Your legacy… it won't die…'

 

His head raised, staring at his brother with a teary smile. "Dad… will never be forgotten again."

 

"You… neither will you."

 

NEXT TIME: The Perfect Heist!

One of my colleagues hypothesized that the dashed lines painted on the road are actually much longer than they appear when we're driving. Ever the scientist, I attempted to prove her theory this afternoon. The original plan included me lying down on the road and comparing my height (5'2") to the length of the line. (A tape measure would have been more accurate, but not nearly as much fun.) Pouring rain, "rush hour" traffic on my country road and a moderate degree of common sense prevailed and I went with "Plan B".

 

This image is a composite of 6 photos merged in Photoshop. It's my first attempt at layers and masking, and it was much easier than I anticipated. What do you think?

 

Thanks for the idea Kyla. Your theory is correct!

 

Submission for Scavenger Hunt 101 - #5 Rain

  

I went to the dentist this morning and on the way back the light was lovely and there was a hint of mist in the air so dashed home, grabbed my camera and headed for the nearest decent autumn colours. This is one of the shots I took.

 

So, more controversy with LPOTY - the overall winning picture and the Classic View winner, both taken by the same photographer, have been disqualified for being heavily manipulated which is against the rules in this category. The same photographer had a third 'commended' image disqualified as well.

 

Thanks for looking - hope you all have a good week.

 

My latest blog entry is up and here is a link - BLOG

Forgot to mention that Megan wrote most of this story...

 

The last time I went to Gray Whale Cove it was completely blanketed in fog, so I’ve wanted to get back here for a little while. What I hoped would just be a good sunset turned out to be an average sunset and a very eventful outing.

 

First off, upon reaching the beach down the long set of stairs, our eyes were greeted by the silhouette of a man. I couldn’t see to well, but hoped he was wearing some beige shorts. A few steps closer though, and those hopes were dashed. Our second nudist encounter in less than a month. Why did he have to hang out right at the base of the stairs? Why couldn’t he find a nice secluded cove to free willy? Get it, a beach named after a whale and guy letting his…ok moving on…but seriously, there are kids around. Put that thing away!

 

We high-tailed it passed the naked man and up the beach to some rocks that would make nice foreground subject. In the little nook just past where we set up camp a guy pulled out an electric guitar and a little amp. As we waited for the sun to get lower on the horizon the musician kept us entertained. Quite random, but great too – enjoy the amazing surf and listen to a little rock music too, a private concert of sorts.

 

Finally the light was a bit better and I was tired of waiting so I started shooting. The entire time there I tried to get a shot with the water running up onto the rocks but just kept missing the right wave. I’d get set up and wait and wait and nothing. Then I’d get fed up, move and a wave of the perfect size would hit where I had just been set. Dang it!

 

In my efforts to catch the waves at the right moment I was losing my dryness. First the waves were coming up to my feet and then splashing over the tops of my boots. A few times I was standing thigh deep in water. I walked around a little point to try a different angle and when I came back Megan asked me if I got any wetter. I laughed and replied, “Wetter? I’m already wet. Once you’re wet you’re wet. I can’t really get much wetter.” Umm, stupid thing to say.

 

After limited success shooting the sunset, I turned my back to the ocean and said to Megan, “Ok, let’s go.” Her response was, “Ok” followed immediately by, “Oh! Watch out.” I turned to see a huge wave about 1 second away from taking me out and realized that there was no way I was going to get out of the way. I braced myself to be hit and thought I was ok – wet, but ok. Then the full power of the wave hit me and down I went. I fell down into the water off the rock I’d been standing on. Thankfully I didn’t hit my head. All I was worried about was keeping my camera out of the water as much as possible. I handed it up to Megan and hopped up and out of the water. Ok, now I definitely can’t get much wetter. That pretty much finished up the evening. All the stairs we’d walked down earlier now were very daunting with the extra 30 pounds I was carrying in water. At the car a couple gallons of water poured out of my boots.

 

And that my friends, was our eventful trip and my attempt to compete with Jim’s 50% immersion shot . IMO, the shots I got were not worth all the trouble, but what can you do? My gear has been drying out for the last few days. I’m pretty sure there’s no damage, so hopefully it’ll be ready to go again by this weekend.

 

Pentax K100D, DA 16-45mm f/4

16mm, f/16, .6 sec, ISO 200

.6S, .6H GND

CPL

My new novel:

B♭ (B-flat)

There’s still more to come. 😃

(This is not the final draft.)

 

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Scene: Garden 3‑4

 

Jack slumped deeply in the commander’s chair, his gaze sweeping across the pale glow of the monitor wall.

Camera feeds A17, A18, A19—all fixed on the arena’s center. Yet the security guard on the west side of the stands wasn’t watching there. His eyes were glued to the emergency exit at Section 212. Its sensor blinked once—a flash of red warning across the screen.

“A suspicious movement… the door sensor just lit up,” Jack's low voice vibrated through Ben’s earpiece.

Ben glanced upward at the monitors and whispered,

“Shall I go?”

“No,” Jack replied, his voice dropping. “Don’t leave your post. I’ll handle it.”

He paused, stern. “It’s probably nothing. But—stay alert. Keep your eyes peeled.”

Silence fell over each earpiece, the tension thickening. On the monitor, the door remained motionless—neither opening nor closing—frozen in stillness.

Jack burst from the briefing room, sprinted up from underground into the arena, his view sweeping the western stand. He looked up at the broad, flat ceiling of Madison Square Garden, sensed it swelling with the heat of the crowd. Cheers greeting the presidential candidate blended with jeers—clearly, anti‑Republicans had infiltrated.

Jack narrowed his gaze on the west stand, then lowered his eyes to his iPhone. Multiple social feeds scrolled with frenetic energy, and one post caught his attention: a murder threat, flashing in angry red text.

He dashed down the crowded corridor and reached the west stand, addressing a nearby guard:

“Evening. Everything clear on your end?”

The guard, clad in plain black suit with no tie—just a discreet earpiece—nodded, calm. He lifted his jacket slightly, revealing the outline of a Glock 19 at his waist. No hostility—just a tacit acknowledgment. Jack responded with a silent nod, their training speaking volumes.

“Door sensor tripped once. I’ll check visually.” Jack seized the cold metal handle and cast a glance down the corridor beyond. Darkness swallowed the path; silence reigned.

He spoke into his earpiece:

“All clear in the west stands. Security is solid.”

He patted the guard’s shoulder. “Stay alert.” The man returned a brief smile—and then lights died across the arena.

In the dark, red lasers lanced from ceiling to floor as a menacing bass drum rolled in from below. A crisp hi‑hat scythed in sixteenth‑notes; a heavy kick drum struck four‑on‑the‑floor. A low, rumbling bass synth layered in—and the very air of the arena began to pulse.

The crowd's heartbeat synchronized with the beat. Swirling smoke and laser cuts, the floor trembling. From deep within the sound, a processed male voice intoned again and again:

“Strength. Order. America.”

As smoke thickened the light, colossal center-hung screens flickered to life:

J U S T I N  B R A D F O R D

One spotlight pierced the gloom—red, then blue, finally white—tracing the American tricolor. Within its glow appeared a man: Justin. Clad in a dark‑navy tailored suit, a bold crimson tie signifying the Republican Party, a single white rose pinned to his lapel.

Moments later, another spotlight revealed Eleanor Blake, dressed in an elegant black gown, standing behind him. Hand in hand, they strode center stage, each step purposeful. The audience looked on, awestruck, shouting cheers:

—“Take back America!”—

Red, blue, and white lights danced across their feet. Eleanor paused; Justin stepped forward to the microphone as the music faded and lights dimmed again. Silence engulfed the arena.

He made no sound—only a slight, assured smile. That smile was a declaration of war. Saying everything without uttering a word. That posture—that was the bearing of a man who would become the most powerful leader in the world: President of the United States.

Justin scanned the crowd for a moment, then spoke in calm tones. His golden hair, blue eyes—mirroring Eleanor’s—lent gravity to his words:

“Good evening, New York. How’s your night going so far?”

He smiled at a woman in the front row. Following his father’s advice, he spoke as if addressing just one person, not an entire audience—

—“When I arrived in the parking lot tonight, I felt weighed down by the humidity. Eleanor whispered to me: ‘We chose the best course to protect you. Our team would risk their lives for you.’”

His voice rang clear. Thunderous applause erupted from tens of thousands. A wave of anticipation rolled toward the stage. The spotlight seemed to center itself in his eyes—and likewise in Eleanor’s.

“Tonight, we gather to put our will once again at the heart of this nation. To reclaim the ‘light’ America is forgetting. Over the past four years, our party restored the economy, brought back security, rebuilt national order. Now, it’s time to shine that light brighter—not as mere hope, but as our responsibility. If America shines again, the world will follow. We must seize that stronger, purer light. It will illuminate the world.”

Justin’s voice reverberated through the arena—until… a dry gunshot cracked the air from center stage.

Jack dove instinctively. His eyes darted upward to the giant screens: time froze. He saw Justin’s body convulse backwards, his jacket tail flipping off his left shoulder. The first bullet struck his left arm, the second to his left abdomen. Justin crumpled slowly, falling face‑first.

“Justin!” Eleanor’s scream cut across the stage. Her wide eyes fixed on him, trembling. A haze of tears blurred her vision. Secret Service agents shielded her, pulling her back.

“Hit the deck!” Guards and crowd shouted in chorus. Pandemonium erupted. Women's screams overlapped. The reverberation of gunfire lingered ominously in the cavernous space.

Unbeknownst to most, Jack’s ears had discerned two shots. He closed his eyes and re‑ran the sound—each fired from above—each from perilously close.

“Ben—where are you?” Jack pushed through collapsing spectators, heading to the stage.

“By Justin’s side. Missed his heart—just grazed left arm and abdomen. Not arterial, but bleeding heavily.”

“Medical team’s on the motorcade. Justin has Bombay blood—two bags ready on the ambulance. Start transfusion.”

“If that’s not enough, what about Elijah?”

“Either way, he’s en route. Bellevue Hospital stores Bombay bags—confirmed three days ago.”

Bombay blood: a rare type first found in Bombay (now Mumbai) in 1952—not A, B, or O—afflicting about 1 in 10,000 in India, 1 in 2.5 million worldwide. It can only be transfused to someone of the same type.

Ben replied calmly.

They rushed Justin to Bellevue Hospital—the closest to the Garden. Jack called Elijah. Before the first ring ended, Elijah answered, breathless:

“Jack... this is bad. We’ve no blood—no Bombay stock.”

Jack couldn’t believe it.

“I saw the bags in person three days ago!”

Silence, then Elijah replied:

“The blood keeper was killed in a car crash yesterday.”

As Jack absorbed the news, his voice boomed over the arena’s PA, shaking the trembling building. The crowd froze and then shattered. Thousands surged toward exits—only to find them locked.

“There’s explosives in this building. Please, stay calm and head for the exits. I repeat—I am….”

Panic rippled. Eight exits in total—most had been sealed for VIP and motorcade security. The crowd funnelled into the remaining three.

Low moans grew to shrieks. People trampled the fallen. A little girl's white blouse had turned grey, her teddy flattened. During flight, no one looked back. At one exit, dozens collapsed, graves to the trampling. The weight buckled railings, jammed the door.

“Doors won’t open!” “There’s children—!” Screams scattered. Security couldn’t reach the scene. Orders were drowned in noise. Control evaporated.

“The crowd is uncontrollable, Jack,” came Zakaria’s voice through the PA, along with a simultaneous link to staff smartphones.

“You got my email? Open the link. No virus, I promise.”

Hurriedly, Jack checked his phone. The site loaded:

“Good evening, New York—and Los Angeles. My name is Zakaria Haddad. My real name. Five years ago, I lived in Gaza. Now I sit in a room many of you recognize.”

On the screen, a brown-skinned man with a trimmed beard—Zakaria—seated in a chair eerily like the Oval Office. Three green-curtained windows behind him—the color favored by Prophet Muhammad. A portrait of Ibn Sina hung on the wall, his gaze deep, delicate—reaching from time’s past to the present.

Zakaria glanced at his watch, then back at camera—an unreadable dark joy flickering in his eyes.

“Breaking news—watch your phone alerts.” Instantly:

Former Democratic President Owen Reed shot at Los Angeles Convention Center

Zakaria hid a wry smile.

“A sad update, America. But don’t mourn. In Gaza, we suffered 55,000 times this. We lost over 55,000 dear souls—and we wept.”

He averted his gaze, clasped both hands, slammed his fist onto the desk. The air thickened. Yet in his eyes brimmed silent tears—quiet sorrow.

“We do not seek money or glory in death. We seek tears equal to the 55,000. Only tears can heal us.”

He rested his elbows, folded his hands, chin supported. A long pause. His eyes twitched with small sorrowful motions.

Zakaria rotated a framed photo toward the camera.

“My family. More precious than my life. Gone in an instant.”

There was no hatred in his voice—only respect and gentle grief. He began again.

“I was one among those 55,000. Even if I perish, their wills persist. I stand here to voice our will.”

He quietly reached into his right drawer, withdrew a Glock 17, chambered a round, and placed the barrel against his temple. His eyes were merciful—gentle, embracing his lost family.

As a Sunni, he stared straight at the camera:

“God bless America.”

Backlit by three blazing windows, he closed his eyes and pulled the trigger. The dry crack snapped through the room. The camera jerked—then the screen went black.

  

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Previous notes

 

3

www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54639396885/in/dateposted...

2

www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54628511025/in/dateposted...

1

www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54599616429/in/dateposted...

 

Note: I gave a brief explanation of this novel in the following video:

youtu.be/3w65lqUF-YI?si=yG7qy6TPeCL9xRJV

  

iTunes Playlist Link::

music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b/pl.u-47DJGhopxMD

 

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Notes

1. "Bombay Blood Type (hh type)"

•Characteristics: A rare blood type that lacks the usual ABO antigens — cannot be classified as A, B, or O.

•Discovery: First identified in 1952 in Mumbai, India (formerly Bombay).

•Prevalence: Roughly 1 in 10,000 people in India; globally, about 1 in 2.5 million.

•Transfusion Compatibility: Only compatible with blood from other Bombay type donors.

2. 2024 Harvard University Valedictorian Speech – The Power of Not Knowing

youtu.be/SOUH8iVqSOI?si=Ju-Y728irtcWR71K

3. Shots Fired at Trump Rally

youtu.be/1ejfAkzjEhk?si=ASqJwEmkY-2rW_hT

 

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Saipan. USA. 2016. LUMIX G3 shot … 11 / 12

 

サイパン。アメリカ。２０１６。LUMIX G3 shot … 11 / 12

  

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僕の新しい小説。

　B♭　（ビーフラット）

 

まだまだ投下します。😃

(最終稿ではありません。)

  

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場面　ガーデン３−４

 

　指揮官席に深く腰を落としていたジャックは、青白いモニター群をくまなく睨んでいた。

　カメラ番号A17、A18、A19──いずれもアリーナ中央を捉えている。だが、スタンド席西側の警備員の視線が集中していたのは、そこではなかった。彼が見つめていたのはセクション212の非常扉だった。その扉のセンサーが、わずか一度だけ、反応を示し、ディスプレイに赤い警告が走った。

「不審な動きだな。ドアのセンサーが一瞬、点いた」

　ジャックの低い声が、ベンのイヤピースを震わせた。

　ベンは即座に 頭上のモニターを見上げ、囁くように言った。

「行くか？」

「…いや。持ち場は離れるな。俺が行く」

　ジャックの声がわずかに低くなった。

「たぶん、気のせいだ。ただし──全員、警戒は解くな。そのまま、周囲に意識を集中しておけ」

　それぞれのイヤピースに静寂が落ち、張り詰めた空気で満ちた。

　モニターに今映っている扉は、開くことも、閉じることもなく、ただ沈黙している。

　ジャックはブリーフィングルームを飛び出し、スタンド席、西側が見渡せるアリーナまで、地下から駆け上がった。

　マジソンスクエアガーデンの平坦な天井は、吐き出された人の熱気でいつもより膨らんでいるように、ジャックには見えた。大統領候補を歓迎する声とそれを罵倒する叫び声が錯綜し、鼓膜の奥を揺らした。どうやら反共和党も紛れ込んでいるようだ。

　ジャックは、スタンド席西側へしばらく目を凝らしてから、手元のアイフォンに目を落とした。画面には、いくつかのSNSが同時に広がっており、それぞれが激しい書き込みによって文字が流れてゆく。右下の、メタの書き込みに、ジャックは目を留めた。殺害予告のメッセージが走り、赤く灯っている。ジャックは喧騒に満ちた通路を駆け抜け、スタンド席西側へ着くと、警備員へ声を掛けた。

「おつかれ。異常はないか？」

　ジャックはさりげなく背筋を伸ばした。ジャケットの背中越しに、腰の中央──背骨の下に沿ってぴたりと固定されたグロック19の存在を確かめた。

「どうも。こちらは異常ありませんよ。何かありましたか？」

　黒のスーツで、胸元にネクタイはない、プレーン・クロースの私設セキュリティだ。視線は沈着で、イヤピースから伸びるコードが耳の下に覗いている。男は一瞬、ジャックを睨むように見たが、ジャケットの裾を軽く持ち上げ、ホルスターの形をわずかに見せた。男に敵意はなかった。それが合図だった。ジャックも同じように、背筋を伸ばしながら無言で頷いた。この沈黙こそが、互いの訓練と経験を示していた。

「ドアのセンサーが一度反応した。目視で確認する」

　ジャックは、冷たい金属の取っ手を掴み、扉の奥を一瞥した。辺りは暗闇に沈み、静まり返っていた。

　ジャックはその場からすぐにイヤピースで伝えた。

「スタンド席西側に異常はなかった。セキュリティーにも問題はない」

　ジャックは、男の肩を軽く叩いて、いった。

「引き続き、頼む」

　男が笑顔でジャックに挨拶すると、アリーナの照明が一気に落ちた。

　闇の中、赤いレーザーがガーデンの天井から床まで、縦横に切り裂き、重く低く唸るような打ち込みの硬質なバスドラがアリーナの底から噴き上がった。ハイハットが16分音符で刻まれ、深く沈むキックドラムが四拍を正確に打つ。そこに、低くうねるベース・シンセが重なり、会場全体の空気そのものが脈打つように震え始めた。

　観客の鼓動が、低く分厚い音にシンクロし始めた。スモークが舞い、赤いレーザーが切り裂く中、床の震えが増していった。低いベース音に重なった奥から、加工された男性の声が繰り返し聞こえてくる。

 

“Strength.（強さ） Order.（秩序） America.”

 

　場内のスモークが、光を濁らせるようにさらに舞うと、巨大なセンター・ハング・スクリーンに文字が浮かび上がった。

 

J U S T I N・B R A D F O R D

 

　その瞬間、中央のスポットライトが、ひとつだけ点いた。赤から青へ──そして白へと、アメリカの三色をなぞるように変化する演出だ。

　その光の中、男が姿を現した。

ジャスティンだ。ダークネイビーのテーラードスーツに、共和党を示す真紅のネクタイを巻いている。胸元には一輪の白いバラのピンバッジが添えられていた。

　数秒遅れて、彼の背後にもうひとつ光が射した。漆黒のドレスを纏ったエリノア・ブレイクがスポットライトを浴びている。

　ふたりは笑顔で手を取り合うと、ゆっくりステージ中央へ歩み始めた。彼らの歩みに迷いはなかった。強さと秩序の意志を現した姿に、観客の誰もがその姿を見上げ、歓声を上げている。

ー　アメリカを取り戻せ！　ー

　マイクスタンドへ近づくにつれ、アリーナの熱はさらに帯び、波のようにうねった。

　赤、青、白の光がジャスティンらの足元を錯綜した。

　エリノアを残し、ジャスティンは、一歩前に出て、マイクの前に立った。

　音楽が静かにフェードアウトし、照明が再び落ちていく。

──　その瞬間、全アリーナが沈黙に包まれた。

　彼は、何も言わず、ただ口元に微笑みを浮かべた。その微笑みが、宣戦布告に等しかった。

　語らずに、何かを語っている。

　それが、世界でもっとも権力を持つ、アメリカ大統領の姿勢なのだ。

　ジャスティンは、しばらく観衆を見渡してから、穏やかな口調でいった。エリノアと同じ金色に煌めく髪とブルーの瞳が、彼の言葉をさらに支えるようだ。

「こんばんは。ニューヨーク。今日は、いいことがあったかい？」

　ジャスティンは、微笑みながら、最前列の女性に問いかけた。彼は、父のルールを守っていた。多くの聴衆に語るのではなく、たったひとりの身近な人へ言葉を伝えるのだ　ーー

「僕は今日、駐車場に着いた時、気が滅入ったよ。ひどい湿気に陰鬱になった。でも、ここにいるエリノアが僕に言ったんだ。あなたを守るために、スタッフは最善の手段を選んだ、とね。そして、スタッフはみな、僕のために命を賭けてくれると」

　歯切れよく言い切ったジャスティンの言葉に、再び観衆は沸いた。数万人の熱波がステージへ押し寄せた。

　ジャスティンの目には、ステージにあった光を収束させたような輝きがあった。もちろん、エリノアの青い瞳にもだ。

「今夜、僕らがここに集まったのは、それぞれの意志を、再びこの国の中心に叩き込むためだ。アメリカが忘れかけている“光”を、もう一度我々の手に取り戻すためだ。この4年間、我が党は経済を立て直し、治安を取り戻し、国家の秩序を再構築した。今、私たちはその“光”をもっと強く照らす時に来ている。それは、ただの希望ではない。責任だ。アメリカが再び輝けば、世界はそれに倣う。そして、もっと強い、鮮明な光を私たちは手にしなければならない。アメリカが強い光を取り戻すことで、世界をくまなく照らすことができるのだ。私たちには、もっとそれができるはずだ」

　ジャスティンの声が、再び会場を震わせた瞬間、乾いた銃声が響いた。ステージ中央あたりからだ。ジャックは音と同時に身を屈め、アリーナの頭上に展開した巨大なセンター・ハング・スクリーンに目をやった。ジャックには映る全ての時間が止まっていた。ジャスティンの身体が弾けたように背後へ揺れた。ジャケットの裾がゆっくり翻り、左肩から崩れてゆく。たぶん、最初の弾は左肩に着弾した。その後、再びジャスティンは前屈みになった。二発目は左腹部だ。ジャスティンの身体は、床へスローモーションのように崩れ落ち、うつぶした。

　「ジャスティン！」

　エリノアの矯正がステージに響いた。大きく見開いた瞳が、一点を見つめまま、細かく揺れている。一瞬にして透明な薄い膜が幾重にも重なって滲み、零れた。

　ジャスティンへ近づこうとするエリノアの体を前面から覆うようにしてSPが抑え込み、引き離している。

「伏せろ！」というSPと観客からの声が同時に周囲を支配した途端、観客席は混乱に包まれた。

　女性らの悲鳴が錯綜し、誰か、とやはり別の女性の声がかぶさった。すでに消えている銃声の余韻が、巨大な会場に重く残って覆っている。

　ステージにいた者以外は、一聴しただけでは気づかなかったがジャックの耳は聴き分けていた。弾は間違いなく２発だった。騒然とした場内をよそに、ジャックは静かに目を閉じた。発射音から着弾までを想像した。一発目の弾は、ジャスティンのほぼ頭上からだった。そして、もう一発もだ。発射音から着弾までの様子からしておそらくかなりの近距離だ。

「ベン、どこだ」

　ジャックは、出口へ卒倒してゆく観客らを抗うようにしてステージへ近づいていく。ベンの冷静な声がすぐに聞こえてきた。

「ジャスティンのそばだ。心臓ははずれているが、左肩と左腹部をかすめているようだ。動脈には達していないが出血がひどい」

「車列にあった救護班がすぐにいく。ジャスティンはボンベイブラッドだ。救急車にブラッドバッグが二つ備えてある。とりあえず輸血するはずだ」

「足らなかった場合は、イライジャのところか？」

「いずれにしても搬入だ。ベルビュー病院にブラッドバッグが保管されている。予備の輸血だ。三日前に確認した」

　ボンベイブラッドとは、１９５２年にインドのムンバイ、旧ボンベイで初めて確認された、通常のA、B、Oには分類されない特殊な血液型だ。インドでは１万人にひとり程度だが、世界的には２５０万人に１人ともいわれているもので、同じボンベイ型からボンベイ型への輸血しかできない。

　ベンは、冷静にわかったといった。

　マジソンスクエアガーデンに最も近いベルビュー病院にジャスティンを運び込む。ジャックは、病院で控えているイライジャに直接電話した。ワンコールが切れる前にすぐイライジャは反応した。

「ジャック、大変だ。血液がない。ボンベイブラッドがないんだ」

　ジャックは、耳を疑った。

「三日前に、俺は直接担当の、名前は忘れたな。とにかく目の前でブラッドバッグを確認したぞ」

　イライジャは、数秒の沈黙の後、応えた。

「その血液の管理者は、きのう、交通事故で亡くなったんだ」

　ジャックがその言葉に沈黙していると、場内にジャックの声でアナウンスが流れた。すでに震えているガーデンをさらにその声が震わせた。ジャックは、再びスクリーンに目をやったが、音声だけがジャックの声だった。

「みなさん、落ち着いてください。私はシークレットサービスのジャック・バンスです。この建物には爆薬が仕掛けられていますが、みなさん、落ち着いて、出口へ向かってください。繰り返します。私は….」

　場内の空気が一瞬にして、硬直した。同時に、崩壊した。パニックはすぐに伝染した。数千の観客は、波紋のように大きく揺れ、一斉に出口へ傾れ込んだ。しかし、ジャスティンへの発砲と同時に出口は封鎖されていた。

　メインアリーナの出入口は合計8つ――だがその多くは、来賓警備や車列誘導のためにすでに封鎖されていた。群衆の大半が、残された3つの出入口に集中した。

　低い声から高い叫び声。倒れた人間を踏みつける足。転倒した白いブラウスの少女はすでに黒ずんでいる。小さな熊のぬいぐるみの顔が真っ平らになっている。

　人は、逃げるときに後ろを見ない。出入口の一つでは、すでに数人が折り重なるように倒れ、その上をさらに何十人もの足が越えていった。荷重により手すりが歪み、出口の一部が完全に塞がれる。

　「ドアが開かない！」

　「子どもが――！」

　叫び声が乱れ飛び、場内警備は現場への到達すら困難な状態だった。あらゆる指示が雑音にかき消され、もはや群衆は誰の言葉も聞いていなかった。

　制御不能の肉の波――それが、人間の集団というものだった。

「この程度の混乱ではなかったぞ、ジャック」

　ザカリアの声が切ったはずのPAから場内へ響いた。同時に、ジャックら警備スタッフへのスマートフォンへリンク先の案内がいっせいに届いた。

「メールが届いただろう？　リンク先を開け。安心しろ、ウィルスは除去済みだ」

　ザカリアが笑いを抑え、皮肉混じりにいった。

　ジャックは後ろポケットから慌てて、アイフォンを開いた。１件のメール着信を開くと、サイトが現れた。

「こんばんは、ニューヨーク。そしてロサンゼルス。私の名前はザカリア・ハッダード。本名だ。５年前、ガザに住んでいた。今は、みなさんがよく目にする部屋を真似た部屋に私はいる」

　褐色の、顎髭をたくわえたザカリアは、アメリカ大統領執務室とほとんど同じ部屋の椅子に座っていた。背後に見える三つの大きな窓には、グリーンのカーテンが掛けられている。預言者ムハンマドが好んだ色だ。

　壁面には、剣ではなく詩と理性で世界を導こうとした男、イブン・シーナーの肖像画が掛けられていた。その眼差しは、ワシントンよりも深く、リンカーンよりも繊細なもので、遥か遠く、消え去った時間の底からこちらを見据えているようだった。

　ザカリアは腕時計に目を落としてから、再び、カメラに視線を向けた。目には言葉にできない喜びのような暗い影が落ちている。

「そろそろブレイキングニュースだ。スマートフォンの速報に注目して欲しい」

　ザカリアがそういった途端、速報が流れた。

【民主党前大統領のオーウェン・リードがロサンゼルス・コンベンション・センターで銃撃された模様です】

　ザカリアは、一瞬俯いて笑いを堪えながらいった。

「悲しい速報じゃないか。アメリカのみなさん。でもどうか悲しまないで欲しい。私が経験したガザではこの55,000倍だ。55,000人以上の大切な人を失い、そして、涙を流した」

　ザカリアはカメラから目を逸らし、俯いた。そして両手を固く握りしめ、力強く机を叩きつけた。部屋の空気が硬直した。重く固まった空気が画像からも伝わってくる。しかし、顔を上げたザカリアの目にはうっすらと涙が溢れていた。静かな涙だった。

「私たちは、お金を求めない。また、死による名誉も求めない。私たちが欲しいのは、55,000人が流した涙と同じだけの涙だ。流された涙と同じだけの涙だけが、私たちを癒す」

　両肘を机につき、両手を組むと、ザカリアは静かに顎を乗せた。目を閉じて、しばらく沈黙が続いた。目尻が細かく震えているようだった。

　ザカリアはデスクにあったフォトフレームをカメラへ向け、反転させた。

「私の家族だ。私の命よりも大切な家族だ。すべて一瞬で奪われたよ」

　彼の言葉に憎しみはなかった。語尾には、亡くなったものへの敬意とたくさんの優しさを詰め込んだ静けさが含まれている。続けて、ザカリアはゆっくり口を開いた。

「55,000人のうちの私はひとりに過ぎない。私が消えても55,000人もの意思は決して消えず、引き継がれる。私は、私たちの意思をここに表明するためにいる」

　ザカリアは、向かって右手の机の引き出しにそっと手を伸ばした。引き出しから、グロック１７を取り出すと、スライドしてチャンバーに弾を流した。そして、銃口を自分のこめかみに当てた。ザカリアの目からは憎悪は消えていた。穏やかで、亡くなった家族を包み込むようなやさしい眼差しだった。

　スンニ派である彼は、まっすぐにカメラを見つめ、いった。

「神のご加護を。アメリカ」

　執務室の三つの窓から差し込んだ眩い逆光の中、ザカリアは、静かに目を閉じると、トリガーを真っ直ぐに引いた。乾いた銃声が部屋に響いた。一瞬、カメラが横へぶれたが、映像は瞬時に黒へ切り替わった。

  

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これまでのメモ

 

3

www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54639396885/in/dateposted...

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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54628511025/in/dateposted...

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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54599616429/in/dateposted...

 

追記　この小説を多少説明しました。

youtu.be/3w65lqUF-YI?si=yG7qy6TPeCL9xRJV

 

iTunes Playlist Link::

music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b/pl.u-47DJGhopxMD

  

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メモ

 

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「Bombay型（ボンベイ型、hh型）」

•特徴：通常のABO血液型を持たない（A、B、Oに分類されない）特殊な型。

•発見地：1952年、インド・ムンバイ（旧ボンベイ）で初めて確認。

•発生頻度：インドでは1万人に1人程度だが、世界的には約250万人に1人とも。

•輸血制限：同じBombay型しか輸血できない。

 

2

2024年ハーバード大学首席の卒業式スピーチ『知らないことの力』

youtu.be/SOUH8iVqSOI?si=Ju-Y728irtcWR71K

 

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Shots fired at Trump rally

youtu.be/1ejfAkzjEhk?si=ASqJwEmkY-2rW_hT

  

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Alexander Dennis E20D Enviro200 near Bakewell Derbyshire 29April 2021. Dressed in a heritage livery that depicts an earlier era of the company. New in 2009 to Veolia Transport.

On the 29th April 1921 Derbyshire-based Hulleys of Baslow purchased their first bus. Regrettably 100-years later plans to celebrate the event formally have for the time being been dashed by COVID, although the company do intend to organise something in the future.

However, a very last minute decision resulted in their route 170/X70 (Bakewell & Chesterfield), be operated on 29th April 2021 in part by three of their ‘celebrities’, plus duplicates of two local preserved buses.

Registered in Manchester.

Another quite sneaky shot - which is why it's a bit blurry. The owner was retrieving something from a van parked just behind this, and as I approached he dashed indoors, so...

To my dear Flickr friends,

 

As they say here in Texas, I've "been going through a rough patch."

 

Thank you all so much for your kind messages of concern. I got kind of choked up when I saw them. It means a lot to know that you cared. It feels like coming home.

 

I finally got through that "rough patch" and it seemed that not much else could go wrong for me or my family. But then, just when I thought all the bad stuff was behind me, I lost all but one of my dear feline family.

 

Poor little Luna had to be euthanized after four days in the hospital. That hit hard, very hard.

 

Three weeks later old Mister Blue died.

 

And three weeks after that, Skipper dashed out of the house -- I haven't seen him since. He's been gone three months now and I have exhausted every means I know of

to find him . . . or to find out what became of him. As awful as some of the possibilities are, nothing is worse than not knowing. Three months with a heavy heart . . .

 

My daughter came from Greece to be with me for two months. That helped a lot. She just left this week but she left things (and her mother) better than she found them.

 

And now, time to get busy catching up with your wonderful photos!