I have been waiting for two weeks for those Cottonwood trees to turn golden but they haven't made a lot of progress and it looks like the cold might have dashed those hopes. Consequently I haven't spent much time here, though did take some shots after the snow fall. I was going to post one with this but the internet connection is extra slow because of a new rain storm that came in and it took three attempts to get this one posted. Yesterday we finally had some clearing of the clouds around the mountains and very few people hanging out at the barns so I decided it was then or never. This is two shots stitched together in CS5. I wanted the full landscape look instead of a long panorama and was happy with the way this worked out - plus, the sun came out from behind some clouds to light up the barn.

Was surprised to see a good number of campers, many of them in tents, move in last night - actually had to wait in line for the bathroom. And here I'd begun to think it was all mine. Unfortunately that nice weather moved away and it has been raining since last night.

Sometimes think that I am crazy to be out here in this broken down trailer with the leaky roof, though there are generally many moments during the day when I also feel genuinely lucky. It is one of those completely wonderful/completely scary adventures. Wonderful to spend so much time here and to get an opportunity to see so much and scary when the bank card is declined two weeks before payday. I went to buy propane and a shower yesterday and got the dreaded words. Unfortunately trailer repairs and such sucked everything right up, despite leaving home with a decent cushion. The plot thickens and the adventure continues! This campground closes on Saturday and winter is coming. I need to head towards home for a few days, to take care of some business, but don't really have anywhere to stay or to park the ole trailer.

Today, believe I'll stay in, get my batteries recharged (internal and trailer) and maybe get a little work done.

This is a full sequence of shots taken of Adam Morgan,Wix Racing,Mercedes Benz C Class as he tries to overtake Jeff Smith, Honda Civic Type R through the Craner Curves at Donington during the 2016 BTCC meeting in the final race of the day.

He gets pushed out wide onto the grass and as he tries to correct the car snaps back across the track narrowly missing the other cars on track and beds itself in the gravel.

The sky looked particularly good, so I dashed over to Windsor and grabbed a few sunset pictures. This one turned out ok.

500px.com/bill_s_preston/photos

“Is this the train to Mallaig?” she had shouted over to him, against the howl of the wind and the rain slatting on the tin station roof..

He hadn’t really noticed her before, the cold sleaty rain was driving in under the station canopy and everyone was sheltering as best they could round the corner of the waiting room which had already been taken over by a few inconsiderate smokers. Illegal, but they didn’t care. Not wishing for a confrontation he had found some slim shelter behind one of the brick columns that supported the roof and she was stood behind one of the old phone boxes that stood at the side of the platform not far away. Fort William stood in a bit of a time lock, in the shadow of the looming dark bulk of the Ben Nevis mountain. There was no sign of modernisation whatsoever. Even the noisily idling diesel railcar was old and dirty. But inside it would offer some warmth and shelter from the incessant rain. Unfortunately they couldn’t get on it until nearer its departure time.

The taxis and private hire cars were busy round the station and he watched as grateful people jumped in as one approached, inviting a fare, and others dashed from arriving cars that pulled up to get quickly under cover in the station. He loved people watching, wondering who they were, where they were going and why: wondering what their lives were like…. but pleasant as it was to day dream, he was keen to get home to the comforts there. He spotted an untidy railway official in a heavy overcoat wander down the platform pulling the carriage doors open. For the waiting passengers it was a blessing the doors on the platform side were on the sheltered side from the wind, so the rain didn’t soak inside, but many masked folk rushed to get to their seats inside even though the passing squall was at its heaviest at that moment and the train was not due to depart for another ten minutes. There were many tourists, Far Eastern, he guessed dressed in lightweight waterproofs over colourful casual wear, hesitating to advance to the train, unsure if this was ‘the right train’. They caught the attention of the train guard and showed him their tickets. Watching, the man saw heads nod amongst the small group and pointing, indicating it was the train they had tickets for, but, no, it wasn’t the Hogwarts Express, steam Jacobite they thought they had bought tickets for. Oh dear!

He looked round to judge how soon his train was going to depart, and once more noticed the woman peering out from behind the telephone boxes, coat hood pulled tight around her face she was also watching the small group of confused travellers, and when she saw him looking at her, a wry smile crossed her face….a little laughter at the expense of the disappointed tourists. But slowly the group gravitated towards the train and the man waited behind them to get onboard. He deliberately headed the opposite way down the aisle to find a peaceful spot down the train, and slumped onto one of the seats. He rummaged in his bag to get his laptop out and wasn’t aware of other passengers filing past and choosing where to sit, so was surprised, having retrieved his laptop to see the woman he had smiled at was now stood by the seat opposite him, removing her dripping coat and stowing it in the rack above.

His eyes cast down her profile as she stretched to reach above: slim, almost athletic……not bad. Almost attractive he thought, careful not to get caught looking at her. As she sat down, he looked across the table, seeing a mild smile on her face. “Better in here“ he said, optimistically hoping for a response. But she was pulling a Kindle out of her bag, and settled into reading from it. He turned to his own device, opened up the laptop and switched it on. Presently he started typing, occasionally looking up to stare out of the window for inspiration as the rain streamed down the glass.

She must have looked up from her kindle. “Are you going to Mallaig?” she said. Surprised that she should ask the question, he replied, “No, just as far as Lochailort. Are you?”

“Yes” she said, “I’m taking the ferry to Skye…and then I’m not sure what!”

“Are you on holiday?”

“Yes, I’m a walker and I’ll take a few snaps on the way past the honey pots. You know, nice sunsets with a rock or something in the foreground!”

He did know, but was just starting to wonder whether she might need any suggestions on where to go, and then decided not. She had a mean confidence about her, a steely determination, and he was sure she didn’t need any help in life. Independent. Hmmmm. If only, he thought….. as he hovered dangerously close to going into daydream mode.

He turned back to his laptop, and thought up the next sentence he would write, just as she interrupted his thoughts again: “I’m sorry for disturbing you? Are you working?” she said looking at the laptop.

He considered his reply, “Well sort of. I’m writing. A story.” His answer made her straighten up, “Ooooo, what’s it about?”

“Well”, he was a bit bashfull. “I like to write stories part based on fact, part fiction. Historical with a bit of passion and romance”. She was on the edge of her seat, “Oooo! What’s the story you are writing?” He was a little uncomfortable to tell all but he started, “It’s about Prince Charles and the Seven Men of Moidart. Have you heard of them?”, guessing she hadn’t. “Well, you know the Glenfinnan viaduct we go over in a bit?” and she nodded, “That’s where Bonnie Prince Charlie raised the Stuart standard” when he came from France to claim the British Crown. He had some supporters, Scots, English and Irish who later helped him evade capture when the rebellion was crushed at the battle of Culloden in 1746. At the moment I’ve just got to the bit where they have invaded England as far down as Derby and they are starting to feel homesick. One of the rebel army commanders of the Clan Ranald has decided to go off climbing in the nearby Peak District after getting distracted by a local woman who promised him all sorts of local delights”

He looked at her for a reaction. “Wow, that sounds fun! Are you going to publish it?”

“Yes, if I can just get it finished off. I’m writing another story too, my first novel. About a Welsh slate quarryman. I never realised it was so hard to do”

She thought for a moment, “Is there any romance in them?”

“Mmmm. There was. But I’ve had to write that out. Too complicated. Charles had lots of affairs. Not with the Seven men of Moidart!!!! No, they went down in history for something else. And not the seven men of Knoydart either. They were from another era”. He looked back at what he had been writing on the laptop screen, and considered where his ramble was going. Confusing and messy. A load of nonsense. After a moment he looked back up. His mouth fell open as he realised she had gone. What did he say???!!!!

With AROE and MEROS.simple concept of a shockingly white background.overall i think its a worker..Unlike meros's cap dashed speedo's,and his makshift polo huggies

The Irish Sea swirls against lichen-covered rocks at the Mull of Galloway.

I nearly missed this this morning. I was outside early to fill up the bird feeders and water the garden. Just the top of of the moon caught my eye over the fence and I opened the gate to get a better look, dashed back in for the camera!

Went to Ogwr last night , all the clouds were Inland so dashed home , diverted here when seen the clouds and light !!!!

Truro Cornwall. Night flying was cancelled so I dashed over to Truro to try out the, then, new Kodacolour ASA1000 film I had just managed to get.

National Express West Midlands Optare Spectra T420UON is seen heading away from Bilston bus station on the 82.

After a lively ride on this from Wolverhampton I dashed to the end of the road for a photo. The route had 3 of these in operation on this date.

This is definately,maybe,possibly my last upload for a couple of weeks :)

Well as promised i dashed off to the lakes for a quick early morning shoot.I think the positives you get out of fumbling about in the dark at 5am,far outweight the negatives.I was contemplating a weekend of stopping in bed for as long as i could,but by Friday i decided this was not for me and a drive over to Cumbria was in order.As mentioned it was still dark when i arrived and the walk up the rocks to the top of Sourmilk gill was treacherous with the moss and damp making them very slippery.I dont know if its just me,but does anyone else find boots with Vibram soles slippery? i think a change is required.Yes i did slip on me arse,but to my credit i waited till the last few metres before doing so :)

Sourmilk gill runs from Bleaberry tarn all the way down to Buttermere below.It was quite a spectacle to see from the bottom looking up,but from the top the views are simply stunning.I would have loved to stop a lot longer but being a total miser,the free parking stopped at 8am so i had to head back before being charged a whole £2.60 for two hours :) seriously though i wanted my breakfast,well maybe not,maybe i am a miser :)

EXIF....F22....1 SECOND....ISO 140....11MM....LEE 0.9S + 0.6S ND GRADS

LOCATION AND PARKING

Stunning

During our holiday in Northumberland we were treated to a spectacular sunset. We noticed the sky changing colour and dashed outside. This was the scene that greeted us.

And, it got better…

IMG_8257 Taken at: Branton, Northumberland

Gulfstream G450 ( msn 4336 ) Flexjet LLC , delivered on 30.9.15 . Ex N436GA . Dashed out from the car when this needed Gulfy taxiid out , my camera rain sleeve coming in handy !! It was bonkers rain lol !!!

I was cooking tea, and like all mothers, was racing around tidying at the same time. I dashed past our front window and saw the late afternoon sun behind the neighbour's tree. I raced out, decided the pic looked better out of focus, snapped the shot and then carried on making tea. This pic might not be for everyone but I like it.

when I looked out the kitchen window and saw loads of butterflies on the Garlic Chives and a Monarch was among them!! This is the first one I've seen in my yard this year and I grabbed the camera and dashed out to try get some shots!

Dove Lake Boathouse

Cradle Mountain - Lake St Clair National Park (UNESCO World Heritage Site)

The alarm rang at 4am. Leaving the warmth of the bed during the wee hours of the morning is always a challenge. However, the thought of witnessing Cradle Mountain bathe in the early morning light was a great motivation. However, as I would soon discover, the sun had decided to rise behind the mountain....

Navigating a narrow mountain pass at the start of twilight was an experience. With wild Wallabies crossing the road every few hundred metres, progress was slow. In fact, a wallaby dashed across the road inches away from the bonnet. It was so close that I wasn't even sure whether I ran it over! Looking at the rear view mirror and side mirrors, it was still pitch black. I could only be sure that the wallaby was fine when I failed to locate any carcass on my drive back from the photoshoot.

Arriving at the location, the absence of wind transformed Dove lake into a huge reflective mirror. Rocks provided a good foreground interest and provided a sense of distance. Just by using a soft graduated neutral density filter on the sky, I was able to capture these images relatively easily on a single exposure.

1 exp shot, edited in Photoshop and Lightroom.

Comments and constructive criticisms are appreciated.

Unfortunately it lead 214 coming north under the cover of darkness. Any chance of it leading a train out of Rutherford was dashed when the unit was moved over to Harrisburg yard for servicing & assigned to a I3Z to head west. I'm not much of a roster shooter anymore but didn't want this unit to slip thru my back yard without something to show for it. Trail = fail but this ain't all that bad, 5 down 1 to go!!!

Preview from Brugge, and no, the Belfry is not on fire. It was under renovation though, so my hopes of some good city scape shots were dashed...

View On Black

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 … 5 / X

サイパン。アメリカ。２０１６。LUMIX G3 shot … 5 / X

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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

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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。

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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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I visited the Hamptons in NY recently for a very brief business trip. I brought my camera along just in case an opportunity presented itself where I could catch a free moment to shoot, not knowing when I might be able to get out here again. I finished my meeting just before sunset, dashed over to the beach, and was able to catch a bit of the last lovely light of the day as it illuminated the seagrass. No time to set up a tripod, so the images I captured were handheld. High ISO. Wide open aperture. Sort of a different feel from my usual stuff, but it was just fun to get out and get some fresh air and snap a few shots.

I hugged my camera and dashed under the eaves of the lodge, but this poor bee had no place to go when big raindrops hit. After the rain he seemed a bit dazed and sluggish. I hope he dried off and got home OK.

i thought the clouds looked nice tonight so i dashed down to the reservior hoping for a sunset but it didnt amount to much. Tried some long exposures though and got some reasonable shots. more to follow :)

As soon as I had my horse saddled, I threw myself unto the horse and galloped off towards the king's palace. As soon as I arrived I rushed up the stairs and dashed into the throne room to tell the king of the news I had heard. As soon as the king heard this news he sent a messenger to tell prince Jarius to meet the leaders of Lenfeld about signing the treaty. He told me that a large group of outlaws were going to attack my home town of Balanire. I was outraged by this news. I told him that I would take my men to battle this threat. He agreed to my proposal and I left the throne men to gather my men.

to be continued in "gathering the men" coming on Tuesday.

I know that I haven't posted in a while and thought I should get back into this so I am.

Hope you all enjoyed the story.

please leave a like and comment

thanks and have an awesome day

I set my camera and timer up wrong on this one, but the result was pretty fantastic. Got to appreciate a happy mistake.

This is 20 images of Polaris and the surrounding stars, at five minutes each, separated by five minutes between exposures.

I had initially intended to do ten minute exposures, and forgot to adjust my timer for this shot.

Not at all displeased with the effect.

Where I camped overnight waiting for the new engine to be fitted....

After leaving Mary in Adelaide with her Grandmother Veall. I dashed back to Sydney seizing the engine out of Hay, towed to Balranald then got the same truck and tow to Narrandera where I got a new Exchange engine fitted.

Early days of #roundAustraliawithSpelio

She dashed by me in painted on jeans

And all the heads turned because she was the queen

In the blink of an eye I knew her number and her name yeah

And she said I was the tiger she wanted to tame

Caribbean Queen

Now we're sharing the same dream

And our hearts they beat as one

No more love on the run

I lose my cool when she steps in the room

And I get so excited just from her perfume

Electric eyes that you can't ignore

And passion burns you like never before

I was in search of a good time

Just running my game

Love was the furthest

Furthest from my mind

Caribbean Queen

Now we're sharing the same dream

And our hearts they beat as one

No more love on the run

maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Baja%20Norte/181/148/22

A departing airplane leaves streaks and dashed lines like a highway ascending into the night sky.

It was Toronto’s worst nightmare come to life .... The Golden State Warriors might have felt down and out trailing the Toronto Raptors 3-1 in the Finals and heading back to Toronto, but clearly, they had something left as they did the improbable and pulled out a 106-105 win to extend the Series, the Finals move back to Oakland for Game 6 Thursday night at Oracle Arena ....

68005 Defiant and 68021 Tireless have just popped down to Daventry to collect the 'messages' and are now on their way to Mossend. It's not quite 0630 and spitting with rain, the promise of good weather at 0500 was well and truly dashed by this time!

...how much she missed me for a long, long time. So glad to have Eva~Marie back home. "Dashed" home for literally 5 minutes to take a picture of a girl, and off and running again!

Everybody dashed off the boat for the best spots and the prep talk, which left me the only one to talk to my new friend.

Thank you for your visit, my Flickr friends, hope you enjoy this image. as much as I did taking it........Tom.

The Grade II Listed Shakespeare Inn in Kendal a town in the Lake District, Cumbria.

A public House incorporating shop dating 1830, with initials T.S. (for Thomas

Simpson), on carriage arch keystone. Built by by John Richardson with Wet-dashed rubble on hammer-dressed plinth; with a graduated slate roof.

Information Source:

britishlistedbuildings.co.uk/101318982-the-shakespeare-in...

Across the street from where Wendy & Mark were getting married. The light was too good and we were waiting for it to get darker before the ceremony so I dashed over.

I dashed outside today for a walk between the rain squalls, but didn't dare take the Canon, so this was shot with the cell phone camera. I did manage to make it back home before the rains began again - but just barely !

It was an evening last summer (July 2014). I spotted a habitat of barn swallows in an abandoned farm house on road side not far away from this marsh and just managed to get a few shots, but the light started to faint. The storm clouds rolled in from no where. I threw (literally) my gears into the trunk and drove away the spot with disappointment. My wife said she had a snack attack and we were discussing where we could go for dinner. I told her the nearest restaurant would be 35 minutes drive away, but we had a couple bags of roasted peanuts in the trunk.

I pulled to roadside and open the trunk just in time to see a few sun rays break through the thick clouds. The clouds rolled in and started to disperse all in a brief 15 minutes. I quickly grabbed the gears and dashed into thick reeds. After running for 5 minutes, I came to this small opening in thick reeds. I set up my tripod and camera as quickly as I could and was able to get a few bracket shots.

I first processed the bracket shots in Photomatix and then imported to Photoshop for further processing. I had to change the white balance to a warmer tone, because when I took this shot, a corner of the sky already open up and natural warm sunset tone had been fading.

This may prove that a favourite shot is not always shots that done in a planned location and time. Keeping one's sense on alert and eyes watchful may bring unexpected reward.

The only Grade I listed parkland and gardens in South Yorkshire, Wentworth Castle Gardens is home to no fewer than 26 listed buildings and monuments, each of them with a different tale to tell. Stories of power, wealth and politics, family infighting, misery and hope can be found in the history of Wentworth Castle Gardens, and its monuments, statues and buildings help us truly understand its past.

The Wentworths were one of the most important families in Yorkshire. Long before the time of the English Civil War (1642–51), members of the Wentworth family held seats of power and influence in the area, building the imposing estate at Wentworth Woodhouse in South Yorkshire as their home.

When William Wentworth, the 2nd Earl of Strafford (1626–95) died childless, his nephew Thomas Wentworth (1672–1739) expected to inherit the family fortune and their grand home at Wentworth Woodhouse. His hopes were dashed when the fortune and Wentworth Woodhouse instead passed to his cousin, Thomas Watson.

Infuriated, Thomas Wentworth used his skills as a soldier and diplomat to plot revenge. Within a few years he had bought, extended and renamed his own house and estate, just six miles away from Wentworth Woodhouse, at the estate we now know as Wentworth Castle. In 1711 he even acquired the old family title, the Earldom of Strafford – all to outshine his ‘obnoxious relative.’

In 1714, the crown of England controversially passed from the Stuart royal line to the Hanoverians. This 1734 monument is dedicated to Anne, the last Stuart monarch, and is unique in an English garden. It’s an almost treasonous statement by Thomas Wentworth, and hints at what he thought of the regime change.

The geometric design of this maze-like garden was very fashionable when it was first created for Thomas Wentworth in 1713. But there’s a patriotic message here too: Thomas created the design to combine the crosses of St George and St Andrew, celebrating the union of Scotland and England in 1707. This union was a proud moment in Queen Anne’s reign, and so even after her death this garden stands as proof of his loyalty to her.

Although recognised as one of the UK's greatest 18th century landscaped estates, the house and gardens Thomas Wentworth had built are closely tied to the Transatlantic Slave Trade.

In 1713, he was instrumental in securing for Britain the lucrative monopoly to transport and sell enslaved people from African countries to the Spanish empire. The design of his grand house and garden was in part a celebration of his pride in this ‘achievement'.

Thomas also made direct profit from the trade, partly from shares he owned and partly through his marriage to Anne Johnson (c.1684–1754) whose family were deeply involved in the slave trade by building ships for the East India Company and working for the Royal African Company.

In 1711, Wentworth was appointed joint negotiator of the Treaty of Utrecht, which ended the long War of the Spanish Succession. As part of these negotiations, Britain gained the monopoly to supply enslaved people from African countries to the Spanish colonies in the Americas – known as the ‘Asiento.’

Wentworth considered the treaty a crowning achievement in his diplomatic career and something to be proudly represented in his house and gardens. This included a sundial, now in the conservatory, in the form of a kneeling African man – a legacy of the enslavement of Africans and the objectification of Black bodies in British and European art.

‘To the memory / of the Rt. Hon. / Lady Mary Wortley Montagu / who in the Year 1720 / Introduced Inoculation / of the Small Pox into / England from Turkey’.

An example of an extremely early memorial dedication to a non-royal woman was probably added to an older monument by Thomas’ son, William (1722–91). It's also known as the Sun Memorial.

Lady Mary Wortley-Montagu (1689-1762) was a poet and letter-writer, well known for her travel writing, including descriptions of Muslim women and their lives in the 18th century Ottoman Empire. Her life and work continues to fascinate and she is seen by many today as a proto-feminist and historic LGBT+ figure.

After seeing inoculation against smallpox practised in Constantinople (now Istanbul), she made British medical history by helping to make it fashionable in British high society during the 1720s. William Wentworth and his three sisters were all treated to protect them from the terrible disease.

It is not certain when the monument, which is a copy of an ancient obelisk in Rome, was first erected. It originally had a bronze disc on top which was rumoured to be angled to reflect the sunlight across to the Wentworth Woodhouse estate. Could this be another example of family rivalry on show? It has also been suggested that the name is also an 18th century pun on ‘sun’ and ‘son.’

In 1744, William Wentworth dedicated this grand column to his late father in law, the 2nd Duke of Argyll. Shortly before his death, the Duke had been punished for opposing the government's harsh anti-Jacobite policies in Scotland. This column dedicated to his memory is topped with a statue of Minerva, the Roman goddess of wisdom and war, who faces south to London. Was William making a subtle political comment with this monument?

12 shot panorama!

I saw this out the window of my house, and when it stopped raining for a sec, I dashed outside and took some photos for a pano. turned out great!

Some ominous weather the other day looked very promising for a photo opportunity - so, off I dashed, storm chasing again, and ended up at Pennington Flash where I bagged this. Sadly I didn't have my tripod with me so I got creative with the filters instead :-)

Thanks for visiting and I hope that you like the work

Regards

Cluke

The marina in front of the Ritz Carlton in between the rains. I took this December as I dashed out to do some errands before it stared raining again. The sun broke through ever so briefly, so I stopped and shot a bunch of exposures to make an HDR. I only end up using 3 on this one as those clouds were moving much too quickly. Lightroom, Photomatix and Photoshop.

I was only going to have a relaxing walk on the shore with the dogs, but couldn't ignore the show. Not too far from my car, I dashed back for camera and tripod and ran about like a crazy person looking for a decent comp.

The skies started out a bright yellow, then went through deep oranges, bright reds and pinks, and finally some dusky purples. I told the dogs I wouldn't feel disappointed if we missed a killer sunrise the next morning...I got more than expected on this evening.

Thanks for stopping by for a look!

#354 in Explore ~ June 22, 2011

“Myths and Enchantment Tales” stories and illustrations by Margaret Evans Price. 1940 Rand McNally and Co. edition taken from “A Child’s Book of Myths,” copyright 1924, and “Enchantment Tales for Children,” copyright 1926.

I was in the garden when I saw this plane's contrails being highlighted by the setting sun. I dashed to the kitchen where my camera was, and managed to zoom in onto the plane.

(A silver speck in the sky before I zoomed.)

We had a quite a treat recently when a lovely flock of Cedar Waxwings decided to come munch on the neighborhood crabapple trees. I was out for a morning run and heard the very distinct high pitched trilling whistle that they make......Needless to say...my run was cut short as I dashed home to grab my camera .Here is the series I captured.

A week ago, on 25 October 2018, I dashed down to a place that I had been curious about for the last few years. Every time I drove the highway, I would pass a sign that said Kayben Farms. My daughter had posted photos from a visit there with friends a while ago and there were a few things that I wanted to see sometime. A spur-of-the-moment visit gave me the chance to do so. Actually, I suspect it may also have been a delaying tactic for all the endless things that I knew I should be seeing to.

There were a few sheds/barns scattered around the grounds. Most were a pretty basic, simple shape and not old. However, I loved this little barn and absolutely loved the wonderfully bright and colourful door of two other buildings. The one small barn had an assortment of ducks, chickens, pigs - and a rabbit that I only noticed when I was editing this image. There were several different kinds of domestic duck and two in particular caught my eye. A female domestic Turkey had two babies, one black and the other was a tan colour, and what a good mother she was.

Wandering near the corn maze - now closed till next year - I came across a dead Sunflower hanging its head. One of my favourite things to photograph, at any stage of their life. As for a corn maze, nothing would make me enter .... nothing, unless the corn plants were no higher than my waist and if I was with someone who has an excellent sense of direction!

Various pieces of old farm equipment dotted the area. I always enjoy coming across such things on any of my travels.

In a nearby area, there was a variety of farm animals, including a large Pot-bellied (?) Pig that was fast asleep and snoring loudly, and horses, sheep and goats were entertaining. All made for a very pleasant visit, just in time before the farm closed to the public for the winter season.

Other posters:

"Dashed Hopes, buy one, get one free"

"Extra Strength Anxiety, $1.79"

Empty Set Gallery of Contemporary Art

West Housatonic and South streets,

Pittsfield, Massachusetts

I woke up on my day off with a killer headache so I dashed off to get a huge sugary coffee drink and a BLT from little neighborhood restaurants and hid myself in the house. I chose my most comfortable, cozy clothing.

I crocheted the kitty cat hat from chenille yarn. I made the pattern up and wouldn't be able to describe it efficiently, but you basically just stick triangles on a hat.

I'm wearing my silk and angora fuzzy Ed Wood sweater over my remixed henley dress.

The super snuggly lounging socks are from Target.

We appreciate the courtesy of Chatwick University Archives for letting us use the journals in our research, and for permission to use parts for the genesis of “Dare’s Game”.

Dare’s Game

Beth, eagerly looking for Dare, walked straight into Seth’s cunning snare…..

Suffix, circa 1910?. It was during this time a fanciful young lady, whom we will call Beth, started a journal which she would faithfully keep over the course of almost 50 years. She led quite an adventuresome life for a lady of that time, and her journals were filled with many tales and observations of her exploits. The following story is derived from events that she penned down in the early years in her journal.

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Beth had known Dare since their childhood. Dare was a handsome free spirited youth only two years her senior, who lived for the games his life had to offer. As his cherished nickname inferred, Dare was always trying to find the thrill out of anything he could think up, relishing to go beyond the pale in anything he attempted. Dare always a little different, harboring feelings and ideas way beyond his years, almost as if he had lived a previous life and retained something from it in his being.

Beth would remember times playing dress up with Dare’s sister Diana in some old gowns of their mothers. It was always then that Dare and his friends seemed to appear and talk them into playing hide n seek, tag or cops n robbers. Dare seemed to take pleasure in cajoling the girls into playing with them in this manner. Eyeing them as they played with a far off look that suggested the game they were playing had more meaning to him than he could ever venture to say. It was hard for Beth to explain it, but she did find it pleasurable (almost erotic using a word whose term she would learn much later) to be observed by him in this way.

One warm fall day Diana and Beth headed down to an old shack located near some railroad tracks at the back of a cornfield. Diana was dressed in a long satin play gown with her mother’s jewelry, which Dare had called rhinestones. Beth, herself dressed in a long flowing dress, loved the way Diana’s jewels twinkled and sparkled as she walked. They were going to pretend the shack was a ballroom and they were one their way to a fancy dance, like Beth’s and Diana’s parents had recently attended. Diana wasn’t supposed to be wearing her mother’s jewelry outside the house, but as a result of Dare’s teasing, had done so anyway.

They had reached the shack, an old white brick building with a wooden roof half fallen in, when a man’s voice suddenly said behind them, what are you two ladies up to? Turning they were confronted by a happily sneering drifter. The grubby man looked around, alone is we, and advanced towards them. The two girls stood petrified, he reached out and probed Diana along her side, pretty dress missy, he said, sparsely toothed mouth grinning like a pumpkin. He suddenly reached up and tore the necklace away from Diana’s throat, sending her falling backwards. Beth screamed bloody murder, as the vagrant turned heel, running off towards the tracks. Suddenly Dare appeared, and Beth, meaning to yell for help, exclaimed instead “help honey” to Dare. Dares eyes took on a very different look, almost of a burning yearning. Beth told him what had happened and he took off down towards the tracks in hot pursuit. For Beth, the look he had given her and the way he had dashed off excited her beyond measure. Even for someone that young, Beth now knew what Dare meant to her. From then on, playing games with Dare took on a heightened meaning for Beth.

But, nothing really changed in their relationship until Beth’s sophomore year of high school. Beth was sixteen at the time, a whimsical being, passionate, innocent, not particularly attractive, but radiating with a love of life. A living free spirit, developing into a very sexual being by the time her and Diana decided to attend their schools prom in their sophomore year. Beth dressed in a fuchsia coloured satin dress with dangling rhinestone earrings that had been” borrowed” from Diana’s Mother, the same ones Diana had been wearing when they had run into the drifter at the shack. Diana slipped into the slinky blue spaghetti strap gown and matching cover-all that she had worn as her cousin’s bridesmaid. She was wearing sapphire costume jewels patterned after the hope diamond. Their parents had given them a hard time when they saw their made up girls in their gowns and finery , admonishing them for looking way too mature. They smiled, consoling their parents fears, and went off on their adventure.

Their eyes were dazzled by the display of lights, the cheerfully student filled room, the band. They had stopped and were letting it all sink in, when Beth felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned and came face to face with Dare, who once again had the same yearning fire in his eyes as on that fateful day at the old shack. A veil was lifted from between the two, and Beth spent the whole evening encompassed in Dare’s arms. Soon after that the two had begun seeing much more of one another. Their relationship was still going strong eight years later.

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8 Years Later

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Come on Dare, let’s go to the Riverside, it will be fun she urged. She had been trying to get her fiancé’ to take her to the exclusive five star resorts for some time. And now she had a free overnight room card she had won at work! Dare looked into Beth’s wide, hope filled eyes, knowing her passion for attending these types of affairs. Ever hopeful she would see someone rich. Dare knew how to use this to his advantage. Finally he buckled, all right, only if we play the game afterwards he bargained. She squirmed inwardly with passion, nodding her agreement. Beth found the game exciting, though she would never let on to Dare. And, you must wear the gold bridesmaid gown and jewels you wore to your friend’s wedding last week , he added, a wistful smile lighting up his thin face.. Okay she agreed, trying to sound reluctant, but truthfully feeling multiple tingles of delight.

Dare was handsome, in a scrawny, thin bearded, sort of way ( From an old photo that survives he resembled a young Johnny Depp… the eds), with a witty writers imagination and a playful disposition. He could always make Beth laugh, feeling his excitement as he drew her into his stories and games. She would never admit to it, but found the game delightfully erogenous. She smiled to herself, so Dare had liked the satin gown after all, he had not shown any interest in her wearing it since the wedding. And the jewelry, the small rhinestone pendent and earrings had been pretty, but Beth soon came up with another idea. She would knock his socks off by wearing the glittering diamonds and emeralds that had been inherited from her grandmother. The set had laid collecting dust in a safety deposit box all these years, unworn. She had never told Dare about them, waiting for the perfect occasion. She could just imagine the look in his eyes when he saw her wearing them. Okay then, game on, Beth thought, wickedly sending shivers up and down her spine.

Dare’s Game was based on role playing:

Dare would give Beth money to purchase a new outfit, something rich and shiny, like silk or satin. With the new outfit, Beth would wear the good gold jewelry she had received from Dare on her birthdays. The idea was to acting like a bored rich girl out for a good time, alone and vulnerable.

Dare would be at the hotel bar, waiting for Beth to make her entrance, then make her acquaintance , playing a debonair, suited gentleman with a mysterious past and a hidden agenda. They would make a date later, usually to dance and have drinks.

Then that evening, she would go down to the bar. Dressed in one of the long gowns Dare favored, fitting in with the usual spillover from a wedding reception that had been held in one of the Ballrooms. Sometimes she would wear the rhinestone jewelry they had purchased together at various antique stores. Then Beth would wait for Dare to make his entrance, signaling the time for Dare’s game. He would assume one of several roles, or possibly a new one that Beth had never seen. In the past Dare had played:

A spy who would dance with Beth, then disappear. Sending a note to Beth via a third person that would have her meet him clandestinely in a remote location…

A highwayman who would come across Beth on the castle grounds , usually the resorts empty gardens at night….

A rich millionaire looking for romance…

A kidnapper hired by an evil uncle, who after tying up Beth and removing her valuables would have a change of heart….

A Jewel thief who would be cunningly after her valuables…

A handsome prince rescuing Beth’s damsel in distress ….

Or Dare’s favorite, centered on their old childhood game of cops and robbers. Dare would play the thief, and steal something from Beth, usually while dancing. He would then leave preset clues around the grounds that she would have to follow to catch him.

All of the games usually led to some playful groping and then escalating into the upper echelons of erotic pleasure. Sometimes they never made out of the woods, or barely out of the ballroom. Beth shivered at these thoughts, wishing she didn’t have to wait….

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Three weeks later at the Riverside Resort.

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In the Bar:

At the bar, Dare smiled to himself, pleased. He had dropped Beth off to check in by herself. She would change into her new outfit and wear it down to the bar for lunch. She would come in acting like a complete stranger to the area. Dare would make her acquaintance, invite her to lunch, and make plans to see her that evening at the resorts dance room. There were two wedding receptions going on, and that dance room should be filled with well-dressed patrons. Beth would fit right in; clad that pretty gown she had promised to wear.

Dare had been sitting at the bar, thinking about ways to play out the game that evening, when the answer came to him, in the form of a stranger who had come with his drink and sat next to him. The stranger introduced himself as Seth, and shaking Dare’s hand sat on the stool next to him. After they had had couple of drinks, they had become quite chummy. Seth explaining he had come up for one of the weddings, and assumed Dare was doing the same. Seth did not fail to observe Dare’s secretive smile, but did not question it. Their conversation was distracted only when a newcomer appeared at the entrance. Beth walked in, a long flowing silky skirt swishing down to her leather sandals. A shiny, long sleeved satin top fitting tightly along her perky figure, with bright gold jewelry complementing the ensemble. Real gold, Seth observed silently to himself.

Beth went to a table, both men going silent as they watched her move through the room. Good-looking one, that, Seth commented, looking at Dare who was deep in thought as his eyes were fixed on the sexy newcomer. Seth teasingly offered Dare a penny for his thoughts. Dare smiled mischievously, letting lose his plans. Seth listened to the young man, smiling as a light went on in his steal grey eyes. When Dare finished he offered up a suggestion as to how Dare could make it really interesting for Beth. The two co-conspirators worked it out: Seth told Dare about a stone hut and wall that was located on the back nine of the resorts golf course. He suggested that he, Seth, would meet Beth that evening and pass a note onto her from Dare saying that he was in trouble and needed her help, with directions to the spot. Dare liked the idea, and wrote the note on a cocktail napkin, cementing the plan by handing it to Seth.

Off you go old chap, let Uncle Seth take care of his end, he said grinning, giving Dare a sporting clap on the back. With a wink, Dare left his fellow collaborator, and went over to Beth, who had since been seated by a male waiter, now standing drooling over her shoulder as she looked at the menu.

Later that same evening, inside the crowded club:

Seth had stopped by the bar for a last drink. His business venture had been concluded earlier than he had expected. With the change in his plans, he had checked out early, his kit packed, boot loaded and the car ready. He now sat at the bar Causley watching young lass of about seventeen who had literally ran into him at one of the receptions. He watched her flirting about the club, weaving in and out of the guests. With a long swishing gown flowing provocatively along her lithe figure, abundant, solid white gold chains swinging out in an alluringly eye catching manner as she scurried about. A diminutive gold ring its half caret diamond flickered playfully from the petite pinky it loosely surrounded once again welcomed his contemplation. The lass presented quite an intriguing gold feathered fledgling, just begging to be plucked. He looked around, spying her parents on the dance floor. The father/husband, despite being an excellent dancer, gave him no interest. It was his partner, the wife/ mother, decked out in a iridescent suit and long swishing satin skirt upon which he now was reexamining. He again studied under the bright dance floor lights her fine pearls dangling from her ears, throat, and wrists. But it was the Ladies’ two rings that stole the show for him; an engagement ring with a rock of at least 2 carets surrounded by numerous shimmering half caret stones and a pinky ring similar to her daughters, that proudly displayed a single white solitaire diamond of at least one caret that had garnered his consideration. He also reconsidered the facts that he had been able to garnish about the lady who wore them, and her husband. The wife/mother was a heavy drinker who would not be expected to make any kind of appearance before noon. Hubby was a golfer, who would be out for breakfast at five am before being on the links at 6 am the next morning . At 5 :15 Seth was planning to pay a visit to his suite, and relieve his two ladies of their expensive trinkets. It should be an easy straight forward caper, that had Seth bristling with anticipation at the prospect.

As he was tossing down the last of his drink he remembered about Dare and the note he still had in his pocket. Setting down the empty glass, he pulled the note out and looked at it, kids he smirked, and was preparing to crinkle toss it on the bar and leave, when his eyes caught sight of Beth. He had felt his breath taken away when he saw her. Not at all what he had expected, he would say to Beth much later in the evening. He looked over the note, stirrings of a plan began formulating. All thoughts of the dancing couple and his plans fled his mind, as He rose, throwing a fiver on the bar and went off to intercept Beth.

Seth held Beth in his arms, she was a vivacious little thing he thought, while smiling charmingly into her eyes. She seemed a little apprehensive at first, but had settled right in when he had told her this had been set up by Dare, remember me at the bar with him this afternoon he had consoled her, she had smile brightly into his eyes in answer. He relished in the feel of her warm satin gown, and allowed himself to be mesmerized by the shimmer of her diamonds.

It reminded him of the diamonds that had been worn by one of his dance partners earlier that evening at a reception. He had forgotten her name, but not her diamonds, one of which now resided in a hidden compartment of his roadsters boot, along with the diamond pin he had slipped off the satin cape he had cordially help a well-dressed lady put on. He had also shelved his plans for his 5:15 am “meeting” at the golf playing husbands hotel room, Beth’s jewels were a much more lucrative prospect.

When the dance had ended he took her to the bar and sat her down, ordering her a drink. She seemed a little perplexed, Seth kissed her gloved hand; wait for it he told her mysteriously, winking into her eyes. Beth had winked back, the fire in her heart reflecting deep in her eyes. Seth left, smiling cleverly to himself as he took in his surroundings. He looked around as he walked away, now where had the little imp gotten off too?

He had decided that the seventeen year old in the long flirting gown would play a very different role in his plans. He approached her, with Dares note and a twenty. Thought for a moment about the pair of thick platinum gold chains dangling from her throat down the open neckline of the girl’s glossy gown, then banished the though, he had bigger fish to filet. The twenty caught her attention and she eagerly listened as he explained to her what to do, pointing out Beth sitting, waiting in earnest at the bar. Wait until she finishes her drink, Seth told her as she listened eagerly. She took the twenty into her hand, the half caret diamond on her pinky ring flashing, and her gold chain bracelets jangled as she grasped it. Seth left, figuring he had about twenty minutes to stop at his car, get a few items from the boot, and put his plan in motion.

Beth had curiously received the note from the attractively shy young lady, clad a slinky gown that made her appear years older. Reading it she folded it and was just getting up when a man wearing a suit came up to her and offered to let her dance with him. It took her some time, before she was finally able to ward him off and leave the brilliantly lit clubroom for the dark, forbidding grounds outside.

Now, a thoroughly excited Beth walked up the hill. Her senses becoming more prickling alert with each step. Innocently unaware that she was no longer playing a role in Dare’s game!

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Epilogue:

As Seth walked away admiring the shimmery necklace, his thoughts travelled back to the gold burdened impish youngster in the swirling gown, and her pearl and diamond laden mother. Revisiting his original plans he decided that he liked the odds, especially since they would be against him. With the father leaving early to meet his cronies for breakfast the Mother should be still sleeping off her drink induced stupor, the hyperactive girl should still be out cold, but presented no risk if she awoke, he had more rope. The ladies jewels should be lying about in the apartment, or handedly on their persons( the pairs of diamond pinky rings, as well as the multi-diamond engagement ring flashed once again across his memory with all their brilliant glory),as he caught fire with the vision. There could be a safe he reasoned, but with a tied up daughter and a knife in his hand, the mother should have no issue opening it for him, or disclosing anywhere else her jewels may have been hidden . But if there was no safe, and the rings, pearls and solid white gold chains were somewhere in the room, he knew he would be able to noiselessly break in, find and slip the jewels from wherever they were perched, and be safely on his way without even causing the slightest stir from the sleeping woman and her daughter. It was a road Seth had travelled down many times. He prickled at the thought, as he foresightedly tallied up the potential haul while making his way to the car. The Mother/wife’s diamond rings, would easily fetch him at least three grand, probably close five with her pearls and the whelp’s jewelry added in. About a quarter of what he probably would get for the jewels now in his procession, so he mused inquisitively to himself, so ,was it worth the risk of his 20,000 bird in hand? Yes he answered himself, as all too familiar and welcome tingling sensation overwhelmed Seths muscular body. Like Dare, Seth like to play risky games, especially those which promised to be somewhat profitable. It would be a tantalizingly chancy gamble of his own; to wait a safe distance away while things cooled down and then return to break into the un protected sleeping ladies chamber.. He knew just the place to hide , and it would be a perfect spot to watch events unfold around Beth and Dare, while making his plans! It also afforded a nicely secret hiding nook for the ill-gotten gains collected so far that evening in case something went wrong, which it wouldn’t..

Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives

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DISCLAIMER

All rights and copyrights observed by Chatwick University, Its contributors, associates and Agents

The purpose of these chronological photos and accompanying stories, articles is to educate, teach, instruct, and generally increase the awareness level of the general public as to the nature and intent of the underlying criminal elements that have historically plagued humankind.

No Part of this can reprinted, duplicated, or copied be without the express written permission and approval of Chatwick University.

These photos and stories are works of fiction. Any resemblance to people, living or deceased, is purely coincidental.

As with any work of fiction or fantasy the purpose is for entertainment and/or educational purposes only, and should never be attempted in real life.

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Latin Name: Anas platyrhynchos

On 17.08.12 we had a white female hybrid duck with nine tiny ducklings on our front lawn pecking around under the bird feeders. Luckily I was watching as she decided to take them back to the river the long way round ... out through our front gate and was walking them down the road. So I dashed out and walked to the side of them in the middle of the road and managed to get them back onto the pavement while passing traffic had to go out round me. Having passed our couple of neighbours we then approached the grass bank of the river and as I gently closed in on them the female took them across the grass towards the river ..... Phew!! They were there again the next day too, but then we didn’t see them for some days after. Then last Wednesday, 22 August, we saw the female on the river with no babies and none in sight on the river. The same happened the next morning. Then in the afternoon of Friday 23 August we saw one tiny duckling on our front lawn pecking under the bird feeders with no sign of the mother or any of uts siblings. We kept watching during the afternoon and early evening and it was still there. It would peck for a while, then just hunker down and sleep for a while. It would give a few soft calls for the mother now and again but she was not around and did not appear. Perhaps it was her first brood and she didn't know how to look after them. None of the other eight ducklings had been seen on the river for several days, or since, so they have all died. We decided to catch the remaining one, knowing that it would not survive on its own. It was a lucky little duckling as that night and the following day we had almighty thunder storms and terrific rain the next day which lasted several hours. The duckling would definitely have died of wet and cold. Needless to say, I am now rearing a female duckling which is doing well, eating well and now weighs 56 gms. Photos will follow …. Promise!

Better viewed in light box - click on the image or press 'L' on your keyboard.

PLEASE DO NOT FAVE WITHOUT LEAVING A COMMENT. THANK YOU.

I dashed out tonight when I saw the sunset to take a few pictures

on the snow! We had a couple of hours of sun this am so I dashed out in the 10 degree weather to shoot this! This is all that remains of our pond but the fountain is valiantly still working!