#the engine under church hill

[rrtfs-official-blog]

Well Well Well...

It's been a long long time since I put anything on this blog! Mostly because well, I'd sorta forgotten about it. With no activity to remind me that hey, people wanna see this stuff it kinda fell into the background. That and well, I've been busy lately! And although it's been what? Around five months since I last posted anything here, I oughta give some updates. Because believe me, the series is still being worked on and ongoing! And thank you to @marsmarvel02 who gave me a notification here, maybe I should post the link to this on my other blogs, I just keep forgetting.

Firstly, where have I been? I've been busy. Real life stuff mostly, just little things that eat away at my time. PLUS, well, the series! I've been working on it almost religiously! Writing shorts, proofreading and editing finished ones, coming up with titles, plotlines, fleshing out old characters, and making new ones! Plus working on the general worldbuilding and mechanics as well. All has been going well! With ups and downs as per usual, and short bursts of a million things being done at once and then long periods of little to nothing. But I assure you progress is sure and steady! In the time that I've been missing, about three months, a lot has happened! Three shorts have been finished, and are awaiting proofread and the proper date to go public! Those shorts are "The Engine Under Church Hill.", "The Brakeman.", and last but not least, "Whistles And Thistles."! The two last ones I just mentioned are rather new shorts! devised and written entirely in my absence from this blog, apologies! I've mentioned "The Engine Under Churchill." Before, and it took me a while to get it done, but it's done! And probably the longest short I have! There's also two work in progress shorts that are really on the backburner, and from the looks of it going to be very very long as well! Those I'm working with my co-writer Speedy to finish! He plays at least one character in each, and they're rather main characters to the story so work is slow going simply because we don't always have time to work. Those shorts are "Silver Rails And Second Chances." and "Trans-Con Comet." I've mentioned the first of those here before, the second was started in my absence, so apologies for that! Those two are... Well we're hoping to get "Trans-Con Comet" done this summer, and we might, but we're looking more at fall or winter depending honestly considering little to no work has been done on either short. I blame busy schedules but I do have a few things in the meantime while the bigger heftier shorts are written! I also plan to start a third one in the meantime to keep me writing and so I don't run out of things to post anytime soon! Now some dates that are coming up that I'm going to be posting things. Well, hopefully within the next five days "Whistles And Thistles." will be going public! It will be the tenth short to be finished completely! Now once again I have not posted the link to the series yet, but I'm willing! I just want someone to show genuine interest before I do! And another day to mark is October 2nd of this year! That's when "The Engine Under Churchill." will be public! The first short of the second half of season one! That one will be on a new document in comparison to the previous shorts. That brings me into my next thing. I don't know if I've ever talked about this. But the series is broken up into seasons, or will be anyway. Each season should end up being about twenty shorts long. And it will be split into part 1 and 2, each one containing ten shorts. All the docs will have links to each other so you can finish one part of a season and move onto the next! So be on the lookout for new seasons and parts as time goes on! I'm still going really strong with the series and am in no way looking to abandon or drop it anytime soon! Here's to hoping for many more years of RRTFS! Then comes another thing. I actually did post a short in the time I disappeared. That one being "The Broadway Zephyr." There's a promo image for it and everything! I just... never announced or posted it here! That's going to change though! Hopefully in a few minutes after this post goes up! I should get to that, as it's the second to last short for the first half of season one and it's one I really enjoyed writing. Based partially on real events and then just nonsense. You know how it is sometimes!

[paradlselost]

CRIMSON.

JOHN SEED X FEMALE DEPUTY

Sort of a dump, I was really debating on just publishing this as a WIP but I was halfway through the smut and decided to just finish it. Not my best, but I tried to go for a more canon accurate John, which means he’s a major freak in this sorry :/

I mentioned it in the fic but didn’t go too deep, I kinda love toying with the idea of a more selfish deputy - humanizing them. If I were to ever write a longer fic with more of an oc-ized version of the deputy would anyone read? Let me know.

I probably won’t post about John Seed or FC5 for a little while after this. I have ideas for a Black Noir (my bbg) fic and then a Father Paul Hill one from Midnight Mass cause I love religious trauma as y’all can tell. I do also like indoctrinated!deputy so maybe maybe eventually I write about that.

2.7k words

content warnings: mentions of cutting into flesh. smut — dubcon, choking, blood play (John being a freak sorry), dryhumping, oral (m receiving), fingering, debauchery in a house of God.

She should’ve known from the start, when the crackle of her radio sounded, interjecting her music with his voice; that this request was nothing but trouble. But rage had blinded her, wrath seeped into every pore in her body, selfishness.

It was never the Deputy’s plan to become the symbol for the resistance, even after the blades of the helicopter stopped, and smoke and fire billowed out from the engine. Even after Dutch saved her and enlisted her help, and despite the stories from countless other resistance members, she only really had one prerogative; save her friends. 

Hudson, Pratt, Whitehorse. Trapped in the claws of the cult, it was her duty to get them back, and despite the help she had been giving to the resistance, those were the only three people she cared about.

He knew this, stalking her like a cat preparing to pounce, he watched every facet of her life from the moment she ventured into Holland Valley that he could. A selfish little thing, ripe for his obsession.

John Seed was a proud man, bold and brave as he had so eloquently begged Jacob to put in his song. His pedestal as a Herald inflated his ego, the knowledge that without him Eden’s Gate wouldn’t have prospered nearly as much fueled his narcissism, which is why he surrounded himself with only the peggies who would do anything for him.

He isn’t sure whether new members are supposed to pledge their lives to him and the cult, but it sounds so sweet when the floor pools with the blood of their atonement and he coaxes those little words from his new followers' lips. His tongue is coated in silver, he loves this new power, and she threatens to take that from him.

He knew she wouldn’t be as proactive if he crooned to her that he had a resistance member or two, and she would swing in guns blazing if he claimed to have Hudson right beside him. So, instead he played on her curiosity, that little nudge in the back of her mind that forced her to seek him out whenever he called. Like a moth to a flame.

“Fuck you, Seed!” Voice so filled with venom it might’ve burned a hole in the floor, he tilted his head at her profanity, a sadistic grin playing on his face.

Hope County was filled with little white churches, chapels with steeples that attempted to reach to the heavens above. She assumed they were much more lively before, now most were barren except on Sundays, when the peggies who could not fit onto Joseph’s compound would listen to him under random roofs of God.

This. He chose to be under the white ceiling specifically, to call her into the thing she had been fighting against. To hear her screams echo against the chipped painting that decorated the walls, for her blood to be stained on the old wooden floorboards.

Curiosity killed the cat. She was stupid enough to venture into his trap, falling to the ground when hit hard enough over the head, and now she was stupid enough to attempt to fight off the peggies that held either arm.

“Such profanity. You’re in a house of God, Deputy, mind your tongue.” He scolded her as if she was a misbehaving child, as if everything she had ever done could be chalked up to that. A spoiled rotten brat.

His fingers danced over the tools he had brought with him, his trusty tattoo gun being at the top, but an assortment of knives he also deemed fit for this occasion. Oh, the blood she would spill for him, he became giddy at the thought.

“Get off of me-! Woah woah woah- hey stop!” Yelping, she still attempted to fight off the peggies that held her arms, she shied away when he advanced toward her, tattoo gun in his hands. He had tried this before, she knew what he was doing.

“No one here to help you now, Wrath. Don’t try and fight, your atonement will hurt much less if you cooperate.” He was too calm for this situation, a practiced art he had been through hundreds of times. It was a skill, making people spill their most intimate secrets, a skill he had perfected.

The Deputy was a fighter, through and through, though John could understand Jacobs words. She was weak without her companions, without pastor Jerome stealing her from her atonement, or Nick Rye strafing his armed convoy, she was nothing now - and it was almost endearing to him.

With her hands bound, she resorted to spitting that same venom that she held in her words, marking his perfect face with her saliva. He grimaced, wiping it off his cheek before it trailed down to his beard, pretty blue eyes flashing with that same bloodlust that dictated his every waking moment.

It was shocking to even the peggies that held her when he grabbed her by her throat, pinning her to the ground and straddling her hips. His hands shook with anger - the same wrath that he deemed consumed her now making an appearance in himself. Two sides of the same coin, two heads of a snake.

Her head ached now, body feeling as though it was echoing. A second blow to the back of her head that surely would’ve knocked her out if the pain of his tattoo gun wasn’t keeping her grounded. She didn’t know how fast he had ripped her shirt, or how long it would take for him to carve her skin, but she was reduced to pained whines and pleas for him to stop.

And he relished in the noises she made. The blood that covered his hands and trickled down her chest wasn’t an unusual sight for the herald - but her being the one under him made it all the more exciting. His Deputy, his wrath, his perfect rival. The peggies that stood above him now didn’t matter, and what are they to him anyways? Expendable followers he could use, the Deputy was everything.

“Yes yes, c’mon, keep pleading…” How could he help it? Her eyes half lidded as she looked up at him, hands no longer bound by the peggies now loosely grabbing the wrist that held the tattoo gun in an attempt to stop him. She looked so pathetic under him, so why shouldn’t he grind himself against her when his pants were so uncomfortably tight?

Her words didn’t quite reach his ears, not as he waved his followers out - who hurriedly scrambled in embarrassment. The old church was silent, save for her soft sobs and his intense breathing. His hand still placed over her neck made her choke on her words, which only fueled his desire. He could crush her windpipe, her life rested in his hands, and maybe he would’ve if the nagging reminder that she was the only way he was getting into New Eden wasn’t playing in the back of his head.

His ticket, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t have some fun with her.

He removed his hand from her neck as he finished carving into her pretty skin. WRATH, her own personal scarlet letters. He hummed, looking down at her with lustful eyes, fluttering between hers and the blood that pooled on her chest and trickled down her body to the wooden floor below.

She hated the feeling that bubbled in her chest as the pain subsided, now only a dull ache danced with the look he gave her, how he rubbed the tent made in his pants against her. No doubt, a mark had been left on her neck - his handprint, a reminder. The world felt silent at this moment, when she should've pushed him off.

Selfishness. Prioritizing that small ache he gave her over what she should be doing. Finding anything to act as a weapon against him.

But she didn’t, not as his head lowered and she was greeted with his perfectly slicked back hair, shaking hands reaching to play with a strand. A soft grumble came from his throat, tongue lapping at the blood that trickled down the valley of her chest, tasting what he had drawn out of her.

“What are you doing-?” Her voice was soft, he barely heard it over the ringing in his ears. Too long had he been subjected to resorting to his hand when he thought about her, or messing up his silk pillowcases with his pretty ropes when she teased him over the radio. He had her under him, he wasn’t going to let her go now.

“Shh.” His voice was more scolding then he meant it to be, his tongue traveling from the blood he lapped at down to her budding nipple. He wasn’t gentle, and why should he be? After everything she had messed up for him, he felt it justified to bite down on her pretty flesh, pulling at the bud as much as he wanted.

He relished in the pretty, pained moans that fell from her lips, how her back arched into it. Two sides of the same coin, both reveling in whatever pain was brought to them.

The Deputy’s head tilted back, allowing him a chance to latch onto her neck as a vampire would, smearing the blood on his lips all over her pretty skin. He bit, marking her with his teeth over the forming bruises from his handprint. His hands, decorated in the crimson from his hold on the tattoo gun traveled down her body, painting her in her own red.

He slipped his hand below the rough fabric of her jeans, being met with a contrast, soft and delicate and slightly damp. A soft grumble left his lips at the feeling; which were still pressed against her pretty neck. He felt the way her breath hitched as he ran digits over her most delicate areas. Being so close to her neck, he felt how her muscles tightened and how her breath hitched in her throat.

Lifting her hips to meet his tattooed fingers, a small admission of need. She bit her bottom lip to suppress the noises that tempted to fall from her lips - not wanting to give him the satisfaction. They were still enemies, still rivals, at least to her. 

John on the other hand seemed to be on cloud nine, relishing in how she moved against his hand, grinding herself through the fabric of her underwear. He bit down once more, slipping her out of her jeans and grabbing her hips, sitting up and pressing his pelvis against hers.

“John- John cmon…” Head thrown back, panting as she grabbed at the blue silk of his top. He tilted his head down at her, a sadistic smirk playing on his features.

He always took what he wanted, no matter who it was, and the Deputy was no exception to this. To him, it was God's Grace that placed them both here, that gave him the opportunity to rut his hips against hers.

The bulge in his covered jeans met her underwear, fucking himself against her covered cunt. He leaned down overtop of her, panting against her ear. Hot breath on her neck, the sounds of his soft moans mixing with his heavy breaths, and of course his restricted cock grazing just over her clit every couple of thrusts, it was enough to make any girl's eyes roll back.

He stopped, only for a moment, but long enough for her to let out a needy whine, lifting her head to see what he was doing. Tattooed fingers worked the EG belt off, letting his pants pool at his ankles. He wasted no time once they were off, underwear meeting underwear as the outline of his dick was much more pronounced.

“Fuck fuck, put your head back. Fucking-… good girl.” He groaned out, one hand leaving her hips and grabbing at her pretty hair, pulling her head back against the cold wooden floor of the church. She ached, head pounding and echoing from the injuries earlier - but the feeling of him fucking himself against her needy cunt kept her grounded.

In this moment, she needed him, needed this feeling to not pass out.

He tilted his own head back, sweat casting a slick sheen over his skin. A hand dipped against the drying blood on her chest, gathering what he could over his fingertips before bringing them to his lips, sucking on the bloodied digits. He groaned around his fingers, muffling the moans that threatened to fall.

The head of his cock strained against the blue fabric of his boxers, hips thrusting sloppily against her as his hand tightened on her hips, leaving pretty marks in his wake. One thrust, another thrust, and finally another before white pooled at the head, spurting out of the tiny holes in his underwear.

Panting, he finally moved his fingers out of his mouth, cleaned off the blood and tilted his head down at her almost mockingly; he got to finish, the cum that leaked from his underwear dripping down onto hers, and she didn’t get to. He relished in that, that power he had over her.

“H-hey! Not fair!”

“Oh, Deputy. Come here, maybe I’ll let you get off.”

He grinned as he stood up, fixing himself before moving back onto one of the pews, watching her scramble over to him. He had her eating out of the palm of his hand as she kneeled in front of him. Her head pounded harder, eyes a little woozy.

“Poor baby, rest your head, sweetheart.” He teased, a sadistic grin on his face as she nodded and rested against his thigh, looking up at him with those pretty eyes of hers. He couldn’t help himself, not if she looked so pretty right there in his grasp. 

He tangled his fingers in her hair, watching her confused expression as he moved the blue fabric off of his legs, dick springing up as it was freed from the confinement of his underwear. Guiding her head over it, watching her part her pretty lips to suck on his leaking tip.

Milking his cock, swallowing the spurts of salty seed that spilled onto her tongue. She drained him for all he’s worth, looking up at him as he ran his fingers through her hair. He was soft and gentle in this moment, noises falling from his lips that told her how good she was doing. She shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be sucking off John Seed of all people.

He grinned as he watched her, once he was satisfied with the way she suckled on him, he grabbed her chin and pulled her off of him. Guiding her up to her feet, he let her loom over him. She wasn’t intimidating like this, he didn’t know if it was because he had just fucked her over their clothes or because she was relying on him for an orgasm, but she seemed almost adorable.

His lips found her neck once more as she leaned against him, nuzzling her head into his shoulder. He forced her to stand, to spread her legs to allow his fingers to feel the now wet fabric of her panties. He hummed in satisfaction, moving them aside and tracing a finger over her slick folds.

A soft gasp left her lips, grabbing onto his shoulder and attempting to move back to look him in the eye. He grumbled, forcing her in that same position as he bit down on her neck, pushing a finger inside of her at the same time. He loved the moans that fell from her lips as he pumped a digit deeper inside of her.

Another finger stretched her out, deep enough to hit those nerves that made her legs tremble. She whined, shaking against him and propping herself up as he continued to pump in and out of her. He pulled away from her neck for only a moment, watching the way she buried her face against him and laughing softly.

He added one more finger before her legs fully began to tremble, grabbing onto his shoulder. Pumping more, fully reaching those nerves, which caused her to spasm around him, her orgasm flooding around his fingers. She rocked against him once or twice, chasing her high.

“Look at you, Deputy, needing me. Did I make you feel good? Use your words.”

[scotianostra]

Today we remember Jim Clark .

Clark, the Formula One motor racing driver was killed on April 7th 1968 while racing at the Hockenhaeim circuit, West Germany.

Jim Clark is a driver who always features near or at the top of any list of the greatest drivers of all time. He won the world title twice - 1963 and 1965 - and was the first Formula One driver to cross the Atlantic and win the Indianapolis 500, and in the car had an almost unparalleled feel for what is was doing.

Out of the car, Clark was unassuming to the point of anonymity, a shy indecisive character who Peter Warr of Lotus said "could get befuddled through this extraordinary indecisiveness". In it, he was a changed man.

Clark, the son of a Scottish farmer, was introduced to racing when his eldest sister married a local racer and soon after a local garage owner invited him to enter a race, which he won.

In 1960 Clark was racing Formula two for Lotus and winning most of his races, he was elevated to Formula one and never looked back. During his career he knew of the dangers all to well, he lost his good friend and mentor Ian Scott Wilson in a crash at Spa, where he would later also see Stirling Moss seriously hurt in practice, and then two other drivers killed in the race.

Worse was to come in nineteen sixty one was Clark's first full year in Formula One but it ended in tragedy when Wolfgang von Trips was killed along with 14 spectators and Clark was blamed by many for his involvement. The affair was to haunt him for years and almost led to him quitting the sport.

Clark won his first grand prix and ran Graham Hill all the way to the final race. But in 1963 he was untouchable, winning seven of the ten races he started and coming runner-up in the Indianapolis 500. In 1965 six grand prix wins secured him his second drivers' championship, with enough to spare that he was able to miss the Monaco Grand Prix to travel to the USA and win the Indianapolis 500.

Lotus did not have the engines to challenge in 1966 under new 3-litre regulations, but Clark and Lotus were back to form in 1967 when he ran second to Denny Hulme.

He opened 1968 with a win in South Africa. Three months later on April 7th, in a low-key Formula Two race at Hockenheim, his Lotus suffered a blowout, flew off the road and he was killed instantly. He was 32 and at the time of his death held records for the most wins and most poles.

Clark's headstone lists him as being a farmer ahead of him being a driver, at his own request

Fellow Scot Jackie Stewart said of Clark " "He was so smooth, he was so clean, he drove with such finesse. He never bullied a racing car, he sort of caressed it into doing the things he wanted it to do"

Pics are Jim Clark, and memorials to him, first two are at Hockenheim, the Memorial Statue of Jim Clark at Kilmany, next is Jim Clark Memorial at at Chirnside, and finally Clark's grave within the grounds of Chirnside Parish Church

[weirdowithaquill]

Traintober 2024: Day 1 - Dawn

The First Kipper Back:

The last door slammed; the church bells in the distance rang out with five melodic strikes. The frost had melted away long ago, but still a chill seemed to hang in the air, a product of the salty sea air blowing in on the wind. Henry took a deep breath, closing his eyes to shield them from the sting of stray flakes of salt. Somewhere behind him, the guard waved his green lamp and blew his whistle: the Flying Kipper was ready to depart.

It had only been a couple weeks since Henry returned from Crewe; the big green engine had been pulling Gordon’s express ever since the big blue engine managed to knock his whistle out of place and steadfastly ignoring the schedule that had him booked in for the train. James had taken the last couple of Kippers, not even complaining about it through some sense of kindness and understanding. But now, Henry was back at the infamous train’s head, headlamps shining into the gloom of the pre-dawn.

His crew – his new crew, seeing as his old driver and fireman had quit – opened Henry’s regulator and coaxed the big green engine into starting the train. Henry felt like hiding himself away in the back of the sheds, or in his tunnel, or anywhere until he didn’t have to face the reality of his situation. He was heading The Flying Kipper again.

His new driver opened the regulator slowly, haltingly. Subconsciously, Henry knew it was only to ensure that his wheels didn’t spin on the wet rails of the harbour, but it felt like his driver was nervous – like he was afraid of Henry. As if he knew Henry was a dangerous engine. Of course he knew, everyone knew. Henry’s crash had been front page in all the papers. He had felt the gazes on his boiler.

“It was ice and snow, it was ice and snow,” Henry muttered to himself as he timidly crossed over the points and onto the main line. He repeated it over and over, as if it was a prayer murmured by the vicar in his parish for good luck. Picking up speed, Henry steamed under the signal gantry and out of Tidmouth, onto the open line.

The miles passed by far too quickly for Henry’s liking. He sped closer and closer to the site of his accident, the sun beginning to peek out over the distant horizon. Henry kept his eyes on its dim glow, valiantly trying to ignore how it cast long, horribly familiar shadows over the countryside. The euphoric feeling of his first Kipper was long gone, crushed under his fears as he charged at Gordon’s Hill. His driver’s hand on his regulator was barely a comforting feeling. Henry was still used to his old driver – the grip was all wrong.

And then he spotted the distant signal, and all the steam was punched out of Henry. It was pointed upwards, shining bright green. “Is it broken?!” he asked his driver frantically, his eyes wide in horror. “Broken?” quizzed the driver, gazing out at the signal. “Not that I’m aware of – the Fat Controller had new signals installed to make sure the elements can’t cause faults… oh.” Henry took a shaky breath, his fire flickering wildly. His driver shut the regulator gently, letting Henry glide. Instead, his hand trailed over to the train brake.

“Here, I’ll keep a hold on your brake, just in case,” promised the driver. Henry took another shaky breath, and kept his eyes focused on the rails. He passed over the points and kept going. There was no train ahead of him. No ice, no snow. Just clear, green countryside, and his driver’s hand gripping firmly on Henry’s brakes.

Henry breathed a little easier once the scenery changed again, the dawn light brightening his surroundings and making it easier to see. His driver opened the regulator again, going slowly so as not to spook the green engine. The train picked up speed once more, clattering through Kellsthorpe Road before speeding along the east coast of the island. Henry kept going, each puff feeling lighter than the last.

They passed through Crovan’s Gate, Henry trying to keep quiet so as not to wake Skarloey and Rheneas in their sheds, and then continued on to Vicarstown. Someone had phoned ahead and made sure Henry wouldn’t be diverted through his tunnel, instead passing through the newer side with ease. It was a little thing, but it seemed to lift this great weight off of Henry’s boiler, leaving him free to puff through Vicarstown and over the bridge to the Other Railway.

A ‘Claughton’ met Henry at the interchange, watching impassively as Henry braked to a stop and uncoupled from the train. “So you must be Stanier’s favour,” sneered the engine. Henry just rolled his eyes. As much as many of his new classmates were happy to have him join them, a good chunk of the older LMS engines were deeply unhappy with Stanier choosing to rebuild him over them. “The train is yours,” Henry replied curtly. “I’m off for a drink.” And as the early morning sun shone down on him, the dawn light growing into a glorious morning, Henry felt a little easier about being back on the North Western Railway.

Back to the Master Post

[husheduphistory]

A Tale of Two Tombs: The Church Hill Tunnel and the Convoluted "Creature"

Strolling through the city of Richmond, Virginia means taking a walk through one of the oldest cities in America and being able to visit sights and structures that saw countless chapters of the earliest parts of American history. Visiting Jefferson Park, located on Union Hill, offers visitors walking paths, a playground, and a picturesque view of the modern city skyline. It’s a pleasant scene, and one that does not at all hint at what lay hidden underneath the earth of Jefferson Park.

Skyline of Richmond, Virginia. Image via Bruce Emmerling, CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0, via Wikimedia Commons

The Church Hill Tunnel of Richmond, Virginia was built with a purpose of advancement, looking to leave behind the aftermath of the Civil War and bring in new progress. Completed in 1872 by the Chesapeake and Ohio Railway (C&O), the railway was built as an extension in order to reach a new coal pier located in the city of Newport News, bringing a new logistical connection to the exportation of coal from the area. The plan sounded good, and upon completion the tunnel was one of the longest in the country at nearly 4,000 feet in length, but the initial victory of completing the tunnel came after multiple problems that should have been seen as a warning.

The first issue with the Church Hill Tunnel was the very earth it was being constructed from. Unlike other tunnels carved through bedrock, Church Hill was created through layers of limestone and soft clay, deeply unstable soil that would shift and swell up when exposed to any moisture and shrink back again when dried. With the volatile soil structure there was no way to ensure the safety of the tunnel and during construction there were multiple instances of portions of it collapsing, taking the lives of the men working inside. Land around the work area began to react to the construction and in one instance the ground gave way, toppling the house of a minister and breaking a gas line. The marvel was also a menace and upon the completion of a new viaduct in 1901 the Church Hill Tunnel was closed and fell into disuse. It should have stayed that way.

While the city of Richmond grew and flourished in the early part of the twentieth century the Church Hill Tunnel lay dormant, looming like a great void out of the earth. That is, until 1925 when after over twenty years of non-use the city decided it was a monster worth bringing back to life.

Given that the tunnel had been left dormant for decades there were extensive repairs that needed to be completed before it could be used once again. These repairs were underway on October 2nd 1925, a cold and rainy day in Richmond that seemed ordinary before the Church Hill Tunnel experienced something that was both unthinkable, but also tragically familiar. The tunnel was bustling with activity and engineer Tom Mason was guiding a train with ten additional flat cars into the west entrance of the tunnel on his first day as an engineer. Then, the bricks began to fall. The collapse of the tunnel was as fast as it was terrible with bricks, debris, and clay falling all around the workers and the train, burying it under the weight of the earth. Electric wires were cut plunging everyone into darkness and some of the trapped men took out their knives and started slashing wildly into the dark, trying to cut through anyone who stood in their way of getting out. Workers scrambled to escape, most miraculously making it to the eastern entrance a mile away and walking from the site with their lives. But others were not as lucky, 190 feet of the tunnel had fallen in on itself and the entire train was buried along with the bodies of Tom Mason and at least two other workers. Fireman Benjamin F. Mosby was hard at work shoveling coal when the locomotive was crushed. He was able to escape but when he staggered out of the east entrance he was horrifically scalded from the steam from the engine and his teeth were broken. He died later that night at Grace Hospital.

The Richmond Times Dispatch reporting on the tunnel collapse.

In the aftermath of the tunnel collapse there were questions, but unfortunately the reason why it happened was known, the tunnel’s history was marred by multiple collapses, and this was not even the first time it claimed human lives. The bigger question now was how to proceed. The body of engineer Mason was able to be recovered but finding the other workers, later identified as Richard Lewis and H. Smith, was impossible. After nine days of efforts to recover their bodies (and after more sections collapsed) it was determined that any further activity in the Church Hill Tunnel was simply too dangerous. The next year the entrances of the tunnel were sealed off, with a giant “1926” inscribed on the mossy, wet stone covering the western entrance. The train and bodies remained entombed inside.

Over the decades since the collapse the tunnel has continued to cause problems, in 1962 another collapse swallowed a house and another worker lost their life to the tunnel. There have been multiple plans to recover the train and the bodies, but the continuing collapses and state of utter disrepair halted further efforts. In 2006 the Virginia Historical Society proposed trying to get into the tunnel once again, but upon drilling a hole in the seal and peering at the inside with a camera it became clear that it would not be possible. The tunnel is filled with water and sand and manipulating it in any way could result in further collapses and severe damage to homes currently standing on Church Hill. Any recovery plans are indefinitely on hold.

Plans for recovery of the train and the bodies of those still entombed inside the Church Hill Tunnel is not the only thing that brings the collapse into present-day conversation. Then there is the vampire.

When twenty-eight-year old Benjamin F. Mosby staggered out of the east end of the tunnel he was the picture of pain and suffering. His teeth were broken, he was bloody, and according to people at the scene his flesh was hanging in ribbons, torn from his body after being blasted by the scalding steam from the locomotive. As the stories of the collapse spread one stated that a “creature” covered in blood and with a mouth of sharp teeth ran from the tunnel, eventually making it to the nearby Hollywood Cemetery where it disappeared into the mausoleum of W.W. Pool, a striking structure with a metal gate and an inscription only reading “W.W. Pool 1913.”

Article in the Richmond Times Dispatch about a tribute to Mosby after his death.

This “creature” which has become known as the Richmond Vampire, is a popular story, but the background is a messy jigsaw of events, rumors, and innocent people denied their eternal resting place. It is almost certain that the figure described as bloody and ghastly with a mouth of sharp teeth emerging from the tunnel was Mosby, moving away from the horror in a state of shock before other people at the scene lay him down on an embankment and began to pour water on him to try and soothe some of his pain. He was reportedly calm, asking that someone let his wife know he was alive and ok. As for the connection to the final resting place of W.W. Pool, there is a rumor that Pool found himself in the United States after being run out of England for practicing vampirism. This rumor is purely that. Pool was born in Mississippi in the 1840s, moved to the Richmond region in the 1860s, died in 1922 (on the same day as one of his closest friends) and had an elaborate funeral including Masonic rites given his membership to the Freemasons. So is the origin of the Richmond Vampire a case of tragic proximity? There are the accounts of seeing a creature emerging from the tunnel and the rumor of Pool and vampirism but the two became intertwined over time, carried into the future by word of mouth and sensationalist storytelling. It is a story of wildly convoluted origins, but it is a persistent one. Visitors to the Hollywood Cemetery regularly ask if there is a vampire buried there and more disturbingly, the remains of W.W. Pool and his wife were removed from the mausoleum due to vandals breaking in, drawing symbols on the walls, and allegedly trying to steal parts of their bodies.

Hundreds of people visit the Hollywood Cemetery of Richmond looking for the tomb of a monster, the physical remains of a real-life horror story. The true tale of terror though, can be found three miles away where a large stone wall inscribed with only “1926” stands between the visitor and a tragic scene where a train and at least two bodies lay frozen in the moment when the earth caved in and took their last breath from them.

The sealed western entrance of the Church Hill Tunnel. Image via Eli Christman from Richmond, VA, USA, CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0, via Wikimedia Commons

**************************************************

Sources:

Branch, Ashley. “Starting with the Church Hill Tunnel Collapse, a Filmmaker Is Uncovering Virginia’s Buried History.” VPM, Virginia’s home for Public Media, 30 Sept. 2021, www.vpm.org/2021-09-30/starting-with-the-church-hill-tunnel-collapse-a-filmmaker-is-uncovering-virginias.

Castleton, David. “The Richmond Vampire - Virginia’s Tunnel-Haunting Nosferatu - David Castleton Blog - the Serpent’s Pen.” David Castleton Blog - the Serpent’s Pen, 21 Apr. 2021, www.davidcastleton.net/richmond-vampire-hollywood-cemetery-w-w-pool-church-hill-tunnel-virginia/.

Feather, Lauren. “This Richmond Park Is Home to a Sealed Tunnel (with an Unusual History).” TheTravel, 10 Dec. 2022, www.thetravel.com/church-hill-tunnel-in-richmond-virginia-history/.

Holmberg, Mark. “Mark Holmberg Shares the Story of How the Richmond Vampire Came to Haunt Virginia.” CBS 6 News Richmond WTVR, 31 Oct. 2023, www.wtvr.com/news/local-news/mark-holmberg-vampire-richmond-cemetery-oct-31-2023.

[violetswritingg]

Canary Cry

Robin/Nightwing (Dick Grayson) x OFC!

Description: Her violence was silent. Until it wasn't.

"I'm fine."

"Fine is just another word for drowning."

Rating T-M (mentions of blood, child abuse, mental health, cannon situations of violence and the like. Loss of parents, hard of hearing/deaf character, poorly written fight scenes lol)

Want to read the other chapters?

Click here

14

BIALYA

September 4, 00:14 EEST

Kate groaned as her eyes slowly opened, her throat burning at the noise it produced. The blonde slowly sitting up, her hands sinking into the ground around her. Looking down she saw it was sand, her eyes took in her surroundings fully, she was surrounded by the stuff. As far as the eye could see.

What the...

Kate coughed, immediately jerking as her ears rung. Her fingers finding plastic on the back side of her ears. She pulled them, or tried but another loud ring, like a high pitched church bell stopped her. Her mouth was dry as cotton, her throat protesting every little sound just like her ears were. Where am I?

Getting to her feet slowly, the dim moonlight being the only thing allowing her to see anything right now.

Making her way up a hill of sand, to hopefully see civilization off in the distance. The blonde running a hand down her face when she didn't see the familiar Star City skyline, a strange leather-like material around her eyes making her recoil and take in what she was wearing. Ripping off the offending.... Mask?

What the actual fuck? None of this was right. She tried to remember how she got here, where here was, only to receive a harsh ache behind her eyes. She ran her hands over the crop top she was wearing, over her belt and the buckle insignia before starting to mess with the tactical gloves she had on. Hitting something and yelping when blue light flooded her vision.

Once her eyes adjusted her jaw dropped at what she was seeing. This... glove-computer? She guessed, looked more sophisticated than Wayne Tech equipment. A red dot blinked on a map, was that her?

Bialya? Where even is that?

Kate cautiously zoomed in on the map. Seeing multiple other red dots, all with strange variations of letters and numbers above them. RB-01, SB-05, AR-08, AL-02, KF-03, and MM-06. And then a different blinking green dot, simply titled "Base".

Kate had no idea where she was, well, in Bialya apparently. But why the fuck was she in Bialya? How did she get here? Why was she here in the first place? What the hell was she wearing? And who the hell were the other dots on the map?

How is she gonna get home?

Base was safe right? She asked herself, feeling panic start to take over.

Kate grabbed the sides of her head and squeezed her eyes shut. Breathing in through her nose and huffing out through her mouth, her once scared, confused expression being covered by a stone wall as she hit her glove again and the map popped back up. Coming up with a plan quickly and sliding her way down the sand hill.

She knew full well that no one was going to look for her, she was a nobody foster kid who had run away more times than she could count and basically lived on the street between crashing with people she barely knew so she could use their water.

She was on her own. As usual. And she had to figure this shit out. Hopefully this "base" had answers. And a way home.

~~*~~

Kate had been following the map, slowly making her way to the "Base" while dying under the bright sun and steaming sand. She thought summer in Star was hot, but this was a whole different level and her all black outfit didn't help.

She was hungry (Which wasn't a new feeling to her) and dehydrated. Which was not good since she, according to the map, still had a way to go. So, when she came across a large rock formation protruding from the sand, she thought it would be a good idea to just take a quick break, hide in the minimal shade the rock offered. Feeling herself start to burn already for all her time out in the sun.

The sound of an engine caught her attention and she swallowed hard, about to flag down whoever it was. When, out of nowhere, gloved hands similar to her own reached out and grabbed her. Covering her mouth and locking her arms by her side, she tried to struggle but whoever had her wasn't going to let go anytime soon.

"Do you have a death wish?" The boy, Kate guessed by the voice, behind her hissed. This made her struggle even harder, instinctively throwing an elbow back and hitting their ribs. Her body seeming to know what to do on its own, turning and dropping to the ground, a leg extended and sweeping out her captors feet from under him.

Kate fell back, scrambling backwards like a crab, intaking a breath and letting out a scream. Which cut off when the girl didn't feel the pain that she associated with using her powers. Shocked and more confused than ever her fingers ghosted over her throat.

Nothing was making sense. Kate's breathing started to pick up as more and more questions ran around her brain, no answers in sight, only making her feel even less in control than she did when she woke up in this godforsaken place. The blonde pushed herself up onto her feet quickly, stumbling backwards.

"You need to breathe; you're having a panic attack." The boy cautiously said, slowly closing the distance between them, only resulting in Kate backing up even more.

Kate recognized the suit the boy was wearing; you'd have to be living under a rock to not know Robin when you saw him.

"Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to scare you-"

Kate opened her mouth to speak but lost control and accidently let out another scream, this one stinging the way she remembered and knocking the boy off his feet. A loud groan coming out of his mouth as he slowly got up, calling out to the blonde as she booked it in the opposite direction of the teenage vigilante.

~~*~~

When she had gotten far enough away to where she wasn't able to see Robin anymore, she stopped. Almost collapsed would be more of a correct description, her dry throat protesting as she took in the hot, dry, sand infested air of the desert.

The blonde coughed uncomfortably, her hands on her knees as exhaustion racked her body, slowly trying to pull herself together. Straightening up and bringing up the map again, seeing she had made progress... just in the opposite direction she was supposed to be going. Cursing mentally Kate huffs out a breath and lifts a hand over her eyes to block the sun.

This was going to be a long day....

After another couple hours, her solid footsteps turned into clumsy footfalls, the sand seeming to suck in her shoes at every step. Kate had to fight to stay conscious, normally fighting against hunger and dehydration was something she did daily, but it was like her body wasn't used to the constant state of malnutrition and dehydration anymore.

The blonde tripped over her own two exhausted feet, rolling down a particularly large sand dune she hadn't seen. A scream ripping itself from her throat and ringing in the silent midday air, groaning when she finally stopped rolling, trying valiantly to get back up but it seemed her body just didn't have the energy or the will.

When did she get so weak?

Her arms giving out beneath her as black encroached on her vision, hearing the sound of loud voices speaking in a language she didn't know and even louder engines.

Her eyelashes fluttered as she went in and out of consciousness, feeling hands grab onto her ankles, dragging her through hot sand, her body being picked up by multiple hands and tossed on an uncomfortable cloth surface.

Finally passing out to the roar of engines revving and voices bouncing around her head as if they were speaking right next to her.

~~*~~

"Aqualad! Goldfinch!" The group gasped after leaving M'gann's mind.

"Where are they? What happened next?" Robin demanded, kicking himself for not keeping Kate with him earlier.

"I don't know, that's all I-we remember." M'gann answered, voice downturned.

"We landed here twenty-four hours ago If Kaldur's been wandering the desert that long well that's not good for a guy with gills. And same for Kate, She wasn't even on the map as Goldfinch yet six months ago." Wally brought up what everyone was thinking.

"I ran into her earlier, I didn't know who she was back then so when she ran off I didn't try to stop her. Stupid!" Robin slapped his forehead. "But now I know to look for them..." Robin activated his wrist computer and saw Kaldur's signal. "Kaldur's close! But he's not moving."

~~*~~

"Raise to shock level four." Scientists ordered. A boy's yells being what woke Kate up, the ringing in her ears painful at the higher frequencies dancing around the space. Her eyes hazily darting around half-awake and out of it. The loud revving of something making her headache.

A hooded figure walked into the corner of Kate's vision, his back to her as he watched some sphere turn, being the culprit for the revving that Kate wished would stop. "Fascinating."

"She's awake!" Kate tired to move, only to find her wrists and ankles locked up tight in metal bands to the table she was lying on. Rough cloth gagging her, keeping her from screaming. These people knew her powers. How?!

Kate tried to fight but received shocks when she struggled against the cuffs, Her body contorting off the metal bed as much as it could as the currents flew through her system. Leaving her spasming through the after shocks, goosebumps crawling across her flesh as her chest heaved.

The hooded figure came over to her, his hood covering most of his face but she could see stark white skin, unnatural and blanched. A sickening grin on his lips that sent her heartrate skyrocketing. It was only then that Kate noticed the heart monitor she was hooked up to as it started to go off.

"Oh, calm down. You're fine. I'm not allowed to hurt you so just sit back and enjoy the show." The man walked away and Kate continued to panic, trying to scream around the cloth but it was no use. One of the doctors came up beside her with a large needle and stuck it into the line that connected her inner arm to the IV hanging up beside her next to the heart monitor.

"This will relax you."

Kate could barely hear the last word before her world was nothing but blurs and muffled noises.

"Why is she so important again?" the scientist asked, throwing away the needle he just used to sedate her.

"She just is," Simon responded watching with a sick glee as Superboy continued to get shocked and the sphere continued to react, "Don't know why, but Siren - and her benefactor - want her so we are to keep the girl here until she arrives."

"Got it." The scientist nodded and walked off.

~~*~~

"Why don't you just levitate him?" Wally asked M'gann. The Martain cradling the head of their team leader in her lap.

"I can't," M'gann maneuvered Kaldur back onto the sand, the darkness of night making it hard for everyone to see anything, "I have to go find Superboy. Six months ago he didn't even exist. He's running on pure animal impulse and instinct."

"Superboy in indestructible just ask those tanks. It's Aqualad who needs your help. Same for Goldfinch. She's out there somewhere just wandering around if she's not already been captured or worse." Wally pleaded, worried about their leader and fellow metahuman.

M'gann suddenly screamed, her hands coming to her head as she crumpled in on herself. Superboy's screams in her mind. Echoing like a scream in a cavern and slicing her brain apart.

"No! Superboy's in pain!" With that M'gann took off to the sky. Following instinct on where Superboy may be. The other calling after her, getting ignored by the alien girl.

~~*~~

Kate had decided she hated sand. And the desert. And waking up and still not knowing what the hell was going on.

It was an explosion that pushed past her drug induced state, it was being thrown while still attached to the table and IV that really made her aware. The feeling of the needle ripping itself out of it's spot in her inner elbow causing her to scream.

The table contined to roll and flip, Kate feeling like she was back on the almost broken down spin-o-tronic ride back in Star city last July. Her hotdog she had spent the money she had worked hard to pickpocket from people coming right back up on that warm summer night at the carnival night in the Glade.

Time felt like it was going in slow motion but also in fast forward, Kate's stomach rolled and her head started to pound. After rolling a couple of times the table broke, her restraints going with it as she was thrown. Her back colliding into some kind of large crate before she fell into the sand.

As if she already didn't have enough in her boots and on her burnt skin.

Kate tried to push herself up, but her arms just wouldn't listen. Causing her to crash back down, sand granules grated into her cheek. The world was still spinning in a way that made Kate feel nauseous.

She knew she was imagining the boots running toward her and the voice calling her name. She knew she was imagining the feeling of someone's arms picking her up and their warmth. When did it get so cold?

She knew it was just her brain trying to make her feel better as she died, alone and cold in the middle of a weird desert away from everyone and everything she knew and held dear. It was almost ironic to go out like this she thought, considering she came into the world alone, it only made sense.

She knew it was all in her head as she was picked up, but she liked the feeling of maybe there being someone that actually gave a shit whether she lived or died. The concern on the face above her not real but comforting as he looked down at her, mouth twisted down as it moved in words she couldn't hear over the ringing in her ears.

~~*~~

Quarc

September 5, 02:45 EEST

Robin met M'gann and Superboy outside of the Bioship, taking Kate from the clone's arms and hurrying into the bioship. Placing Kate down next to Kaldur on one of the medical platforms the ship popped up the boy worked quickly, patching up her arm and any scrapes she had collected before placing an IV in her non-injured arm to rehydrate her.

Only when she was patched up did the boy take a breath. Looking down at the girl with worry that could be seen in the way he carried his shoulders.

"She's gonna be okay, they both are." Wally came up beside the younger boy and placed a hand on his shoulder. Both now watching as Kate's eyes fluttered.

"I know." Robin sighed, shifting weight to step away, sit in his seat after a long mission but was stopped. The feeling of something caught on his cape stopping him in his tracks. Wally did his best to hide his smirk but Robin saw it and scowled at the older boy. Wally just held up his hands and went to his seat.

Kate's eyes opened, but she wasn't there. Her gaze hazy and unfocused as her irises slid across the space. Landing on him with a vague spark of recognition, her cold fingers searched past his cape and wrapped around his wrist loosely as her breathing picked up.

"It's okay. Just breathe. You're safe Kate." Robin did his best to over annunciate his words, changing her grip on his wrist. His fingers wrapping around hers in a tight grip, "We'll get you all fixed up soon okay?"

Artemis watched on in worry and also intrigue as Kate seemed to calm down, the boy wonder pushing back a tangled strand of blonde hair from Kate's face before checking the drip bag again. Their hands locked in what looked like a death grip as Kate passed out again.

Artemis chuckled at the image and did her best to hide her grin, knowing how ridiculous they both were being about their feelings. Her eyes unintentionally fading over to Wally, who sat in his chair, tossing up some bit he had found on the ship, feet propped up on the dash console.

~~*~~

[heartxshaped-bruises]

                                              ✧･ﾟ  𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑.

       ❛❛Ha, told ya she's gonna come!❜❜ The words lacked the distinctive slurring of the past hours that Rafe had spent in the cell. It even earned a funny glance from the irritated deputy, but the guy seemed more peeved by the fact that his emergency contact showed up, after all - and that it deprived him of a reason to keep THE TALL MENACE behind bars for the night. Even for his standard, Rafe went off the fucking rails tonight. His knuckles still hurt, bruised and bloody from dishing out. A familiar sensation, even through the heavy fog of inebriation.

       When the doors swung open, Rafe's head was spinning. Both from the booze and the sudden realization kicking in. The tiny, reasonable part in the back of his head started to cuss and writhe. Fuck. What the hell was he thinking? Why was the stupid, smug grin still plastered across his face as if this was a win? It made his gross mug look even worse, you bet. Shit. Rafe pulled on the cuffs chaining him to the bench and huffed. If he avoided looking at her, maybe there was a chance that she'd just piss off again. God knows he nailed that for a whole, fucking year. THE HAPPY ENDING he deserved. But instead, his drunk brain steered his gaze up, just in the moment their eyes met again for the first time in forever. And instead of mirroring the nausea forming in the pit of his stomach at her sight, the skeevy grin just widened and swallowed any hint of resemblance. ❛❛Hey, Miss Jessica...❜❜

~~~~~

       To say that Rafe wasn't weirded out at least a little bit by the family would've been a lie. He was shit at lying, anyway. Got told so by his brothers and Nana, whom he'd parked in the shade of the church for now while he approached the others in the parking lot. HE'D NOTICED THEM BEFORE. Hell, they stood out like a sore thumb at mass. Some people were looking at them the same way they sometimes eyed his own family, so maybe that was the main motivation why he decided to check on them. Someone should, right? And if anyone knew about cars acting up here, it was him.

       ❛❛Yeah... if ya ask me, you should get that checked❜❜, he told the father after a look under the hood. ❛❛Could be just the engine overheating and ya should be good to go after 20 minutes or so, but it could also be A BROKEN STARTER. Wouldn't recommend a bump-starting if ya wanna keep your catalyzer...❜❜ Rafe rubbed the back of his neck. A few month had passed since his base training and his hair finally started to grow longer again. The only downside to the military, in his opinion. ❛❛Uh... if ya want, I can make a call and get someone to tow your car. My family's workshop's just up the hill❜❜, he offered. His gaze wandered to the two girls and he tried not to linger too long on THE WEIRD-ASS OUTFIT. ❛❛I could take your daughters with my truck and meet you there, Sir?❜❜ // @nanlanmo

[paramounttowingrecoveryllc]

Top 6 Questions Truck Drivers Ask About Roadside Truck Repair Near Hope AR

Hope, Arkansas. Rolling hills. Long hauls. One sudden thud beneath your rig and now you’re pulled over along Highway 278 scratching your head while taillights disappear in the dark. That’s where Paramount comes in. We hear plenty from truckers stranded near Hope—each one chasing answers fast while waiting on real help. So here’s six most-asked questions from big rig pros who call us for Roadside Truck Repair Near Me out in southwest Arkansas.

What happens if I break down after hours in Hope?

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Can Paramount handle repairs or only towing?

That’s a big one. Many drivers assume we’re all pull no fix. Truth? We deliver both. From alternator issues and fuel delivery to air system diagnostics—we don’t just yank you with a semi towingtruck wrecker rig then say “good luck.” If we can fix it roadside you’re rolling again without needing a shop tow. Though when hauling’s impossible—we dispatch smart and strong heavy duty towing crews. So you get what’s best—not just what’s quickest.

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Contact DetailsParamount Towing & Recovery – 24-Hour Semi-Truck Towing📍 57 Bob Taylor Dr, Marion, AR 72364, United States 📞 +1 (870) 635-2532

[sidewalkstamps]

Clarence P. Day Corporation Pasadena (Photo taken by Scott Fajack on June 7, 2024 in Pasadena at the intersection of S. Sierra Bonita Ave. and E. California Blvd.)

Clarence Parkman Day was born on October 4, 1885 in Beverly Farms, Massachusetts, USA to Isaac Franklin Day and Ella Frances Lovering Day and died on February 19, 1969; he was buried at Forest Lawn Memorial Park in Glendale, CA, USA. He had been married twice (Findagrave.com).

He "was a well-known contractor and engineer in Pasadena throughout his professional life. After working with the Olmsted Brothers firm in the East, Day moved to Pasadena in the early 1900's. Working with the Allin Brothers' engineering firm, he helped with the design of the Annandale and Oak Knoll neighborhoods. Around 1910, he did the survey work for the new Caltech campus. His subdivisions, including the 1923 design of the Eldora Park neighborhood, were known for their winding streets which are reminiscent of his original Olmsted training. Day's firm later did work on the Grace Nicholson Building (Pacific Asia Museum) and the Westminster Presbyterian Church (both landmarks). Outside of Pasadena, Day was known for the development of the Pacific Palisades as well as being the head of civil engineering at Camp Pendleton." Additionally, he compiled "cartographical data of the district formerly known as North Pasadena before its annexation" (Agenda Report described below).

According to the City of Pasadena June 19, 2006 Agenda Report from the City Manager to the City Council on the designation of 492 Eldora Road as a landmark, we learn that Day was the first resident of a Tudor Revival-style house at that address.

In 1918, Clarence P Day was in the Boston Building and was listed as a surveyor, civil engineer, and landscape architect and also under Sprinkling Systems, plus they placed an ad in the city directory (Thurston's Pasadena (California) City Directory Including Altadena and Lamanda Park, Los Angeles Directory Company, 1918).

Day took out several advertisements in the Pasadena Star-news:

Confusingly, one ad says 335 S. Raymond Ave. and another says 35 N. Raymond Ave.! Either way "since 1904 always at Boston Building" and "the only organization of it's kind in the west"! At least today, the Boston Building is at 35 N. Raymond Ave. (and is now condos, of course). This is also the first time I've seen his business described as "landscape development" (Pasadena Star-news, Pasadena Star News, 1919).

In 1919, Day did the landscaping for Douglas Fairbanks's house in Beverly Hills ('Fairbanks to Have New Home,' "Motion Pictures," The New York Clipper, July 16, 1919, accessed via lantern.mediahist.org).

Day was the low bidder" and was awarded the general contract for the 2nd St. school bldg." in Chino, CA (Building and Engineering News, Volume 22, 1922).

Day was "in charge of the basic layout of the development that encompassed three and half acres" of the aforementioned Oak Knoll Gardens neighborhood of Pasadena, CA from 1922-1923 ("Neighborhood History: Oak Knoll Gardens," Madison Heights Neighborhood Association newsletter, June 2009).

According to the Online Archive of California Collection Guide for the El Mirador Ranch Collection, Day was the engineer for the real estate development (El Mirador Ranch Collection, 1924-1965, Pasadena Museum of History, OAC).

Still in the Boston Building in 1925 (The Railroad Yardmaster, Railroad Yardmasters of America, 1925).

In 1925, the Corp. submitted the low bids to the city of Pasadena for "walks on Sierra Bonita Ave., betw. California St. and Lombardy Rd." and for improving Hawkeye St., "involv. oil mac. pave." They also submitted not-the-lowest bids in Pasadena and Monrovia, CA. They were awarded the contract by Los Angeles County for improving Chevy Chase Dr. between 1/2 mile northeast of southwest boundary of lot C and other boundaries I can't read in the scan unfortunately. I love when other companies list their clients to prove they make a good product, and Blaw-Knox Batcherplants includes Clarence P. Day Corporation in that capacity (Southwest Builder and Contractor, Volume 65, F. W. Dodge Company, 1925)! Batcher plants combine the ingredients of concrete.

According to the US Department of the Interior National Park Service National Register of Historic Places Registration Form from 1997 for the Bekins Storage Co. Roof Sign on 511 S. Fair Oaks Avenue, Pasadena, CA 91105, Day constructed the sign in 1925-1926 for the Standard Fireproof Storage Company.

According to California Southland, the Clarence P. Day Corporation were engineers, contractors, and builders and were still located in the Boston Building in Pasadena, CA in 1926 (Volume 8, California Southland, 1926). That would be the aforementioned 35 N. Raymond Ave., I believe.

"Every motorist entering Ventura, California, finds a large sign which bears the A. G. C. SEal commanding his attention. The sign placed at the intersection of two main traffic arteries, heralds the work of Clarence P. Day Corporation on the Ventura Union High School" - this article was about the AGC, whom we've talked about before, but gives us a nice bit on Day, too! ("Marked Display Given Emblem of A. G. C." Constructor, Volume 8, Associated General Contractors of America, 1926).

Clarence P. Day was president, J. L Hazlehurst & S. J. Van Ornum were vice presidents, W. A. Moore was secretary, and E. R. Bartlett was treasurer of the Clarence P. Day Corporation in 1927. They were still in the Boston Building (Walker's Directory of Northern California Directors and Corporations (including Northern Nevada), Walker's Manual Incorporated, 1927).

In 1919, Day took out an ad stating they were the general contractors for the Westminster Presbyterian Church (The Architectural Digest, Volume VII, Number 3, 1929, John C. Brasfield, Los Angeles). The church is at 1757 N. Lake Avenue in Pasadena, CA. According to the church's website, the cornerstone was laid in 1927 and the dedication of the new church was November 25, 1928. As previously mentioned, it's now a landmark!

A flickr user named Luke Gattuso posted another contractor stamp photo which stated "Clarence P. Day Contractor Pasadena."

Some other work is documented in photography and is available through Pasadena Digital History:

"The Garden of Mr. Arthur Noble, Pasadena. Clarence P. Day, Landscape Engineer"

"The New Plunge at the Valley Hunt Club. Joseph Rhodes, Builder; Clarence P. Day, Concrete Work"

"Waterfall and Cistern"

Other source:

Kappa Alpha Record: Centennial Ed., 1825-1925, Being a Record of the Members and Activities of the Kappa Alpha Society, Kappa Alpha Society, Executive Council, 1926

[albertfinch]

LORD OF THE HARVEST

We see that the engine of the Gospel message that drives it into the world--is His presence and glory. It is not a tantalizing self-induced experience that produces no fruit, but rather an illuminating light which leads the world to Jesus and becomes the pillar of fire that leads His Church into moving the Great Commission forward. Yet often in contemporary circles, we don't see the value of discipling Believers so they will be equipped and have an understanding of their Christ identity so the can be sent out to bear fruit that remains for His advancing Kingdom.

WE ARE THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD

Look at the words of Jesus carefully, "No man after he has lit a candle puts it in a secret place, neither under a bushel, but on a candlestick so that they that come in may see the light…" (Luke 11:33).

"YOU are the LIGHT of the WORLD" (Matthew 5:14).

We have become the transfiguring light of His presence and are the only hope of the world to see it. "To whom God would make known what is the riches of the glory of this mystery among the Gentiles, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory…" (Colossians 1:27). Get ready for God to move you out of the confines and limitations of what you have mis-understood in the past about aggressively advancing His Kingdom.

OUR MISSION

Our job description now is to reveal the Light of eternity in a dark world void of it. We are light to the world and are here to TRANSFIGURE and TRANSFORM it. In Luke 10:2, harvest is literally mentioned three times, "Then He said to them, 'The harvest truly is great, but the laborers are few; therefore pray the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into His harvest.'" A "reaping or crop" is not "going" to be ready. It "was already" ripe, and the only hindrance to that reaping were the workers or laborers. That word "laborer" can be interpreted in the ancient text as " teacher." This world needs to be DISCIPLED into the Word of God. Once the new converts are harvested they need teachers to disciple them into and understanding of their Christ identity -- and help them to come to an understanding of their Christ calling.

TEACHING AND PREACHING

We can never disqualify the necessity of teaching His Word. It's the very reason the glory was given and that divine power was granted -- to "be His witnesses." Look at Philip as he encounters the Ethiopian Eunuch in Acts 8:26-39.

Philip became the prophet to Africa's royal court sent by God along the roadside. He became the teacher that illuminated the ancient text of Isaiah revealing Christ to him. Then he was a mighty evangelist who baptized the man in water along the way after the eunuch openly confessed, "I believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God…" (verse 37).

STEPPING INTO OUR DESTINY

Let us fully step into the brilliant light of the "Lord of the Harvest" and become His prophets, kings, priests, teachers and evangelists to the world. Three effects of this:

We come to realize the importance of equipping the body of Christ in their Christ identity, right standing with God, and walking in the Spirit so they will be readied and empowered to change the way people think.

We suddenly realize we have entered a harvest that is a result of the answer to Jesus’ ancient prayer, "..pray the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into His harvest"

You become that laborer and you become that harvester of a great glorious white harvest that continues to unfold as the Great Commission becomes a reality.

GREAT PROPHETIC ADVENTURE

The harvest we face today from the mouth of Jesus two thousand years ago. Like Philip, we run to it! This great adventure awaits us, and His glory will carry us into the white light of His presence, because we "are a city set upon a hill that cannot be hid" and we are the "Leukos" or "light of the world."

ALBERT FINCH MINISTRY

[rrtfs-official-blog]

July 2025 Update!!

Been a while since I've said anything, as per the usual around here. I wanted to do my July update a week or two back, but I got busy and you know how it is sometimes. Especially since a lot of that busy as of late as included going to railroad museums and riding behind steam locomotives I think it's all excusable. (Especially since a lot of those locos if not all of them are characters in the series so it's opportunities to develop personalities and come up with stories for them).

First things first! I have finally started regularly writing again! A lot more than I have in the past anyway! I finally figured out the next short to work on, in fact, the next ten shorts are planned! The second half of season one is as of now, partially written (and by part I mean like a very small but workable percent considering two of the shorts are finished already). The two shorts out of ten that are finished are "The Brakeman." and "The Engine Under Church Hill." Yaknow, the two shorts I keep talking up! Those will be out... Well, one will be out in a couple months and one will be going public sometime late next year. That's what's planned anyway, I suppose nothing is truly set in stone.

Two shorts though, have been started in the background while I wait for my co-writer Speedy to do some edits and proofreading. Those two shorts are supposed to be the second and third shorts for the second half of season one. Those shorts are as follows, "Big Trouble In Little Iron." and then, "The Legend Of The Brass Canyon." Very random ones I know, but they're all building up to the final short of season one, "Silver Rails And Second Chances." So that's all fine and dandy! Why I started two at once? So I could still work on one if my co-writer was too busy to do his parts in the other. So in total, There's about... Four shorts being written? Slowly but surely anyway!

If it's not already abundantly clear, the second half of season one has a theme! Oh yes! Unlike the first half which just consisted of whatever stories I felt like writing at the time, this one has a proper theme and they're all a build up! Mostly consisting of really getting to know the characters involved, but there's some fun lore drops in them too! So keep an eye out for those. me and my co-writer are guessing it'll take about 2-3 years to get all of that done, and from there we move on to the first half of season two! Which should be very fun, considering there's already some shorts we wanna start. I can't think of much else at the moment. Aside from a new character who's been very fun to toy with. Their introductory short is "Big Trouble In Little Iron." Hence why that short has never been mentioned before. I will be posting something (hopefully shortly after this one goes up), about said character because he's just a fun little guy! Plus some very sketchy art I drew for him as 'propaganda' to convince my friends and Speedy that he should be added to the series. Obviously he won out.

And that's all I have for this little update! Not too much is going on aside from writing with my nose to the grindstone! Any questions or concerns I'm as per usual more than happy to elaborate! Wishing you clear track and green signals! Until next time y'all!

[gaykarstaagforever]

Fans of my Tumblr will remember when I did this post about Stawberry Hill House, a quaint gothic folly of an 18th century mansion, built by some Georgian turbo-nerd.

I didn't in that post do any discussion about what "gothic" actually means, because it is complicated and confusing and is applied to different things differently, depending on who is doing it. Suffice it to say now, it was an artistic trend of the second half of the 18th century, based on the First Industrial Revolution and the so-called The Age of Reason, where people counterintuitively got real into liking ancient ruins and dark medieval stuff and spooky things.

Before then, things were good or bad because the church or king said so; after we figured out the steam engine and medicine, we realized that demons weren't in fact responsible for 80% of everything, so being scared of them in principle was kind of a waste. Being scared of or liking ANYTHING in principle was goofy. Instead of everything being objectively a way, things are now subjectively a way, and how we feel and react to them gives them their REAL value.

Yeah it just goes on like this. Entire books of this shit. Secularism and capitalism (as a philosophy) come out of this. It ties in to why America's Founding Fathers suddenly felt like they could say "fuck the king for being jerk," while Thomas Jefferson sat there crossing out all the stuff about miracles in the Bible and giggling.

But it ALSO meant that if you wanted to be into ghosts or the histories of banned religions, or do drugs and think your drug-dreams mattered, go for it, landed gentry! Weird things are fun and exciting, instead of risking your immortal soul! What if there are beasts? What if WE are the beasts?!

Yes, this is where the idea of modern horror has its earliest pop-cultural roots. In 1764, Horace Walpole - the guy who built Strawberry Hill - wrote The Castle of Otranto, which he styled "a Gothic Novel." It was partially based on a scary dream he had while at Strawberry Hill, involving random giant pieces of medieval armor being in his bedroom. ...Which is one of those things that doesn't sound scary, but you damn well know it totally would be if you had a nightmare about it while sleeping in your whimsical fairy house.

The Castle of Otranto was an immediate hit. With the first edition, Walpole published it under a pseudonym and claimed it was an English translation of a Renaissance Italian work. In subsequent editions he dropped the pretense and admitted he just wrote it, which didn't hurt sales but pissed off all the literary critics who had been tricked. ...Which is funny, so good on him. But they immediately changed their reviews of it to "awesome" to "this totally sucks and is stupid."

Which either means they were unprofessionally pissy, or they had been generous initially, and now knowing it wasn't a translation, were eager to admit that, other than the fun crazy stuff, it isn't very good.

Yes, even for 1764. Walpole is intentionally going for an arch, dated, Shakespearean style, to fit his made up date (the 16th century) for the original Italian. And, man - it sounds like what happens when someone does that.

Shakespeare was writing in iambic pentameter. It was performance poetry, so it sounded like that to fit the rhythm and be compelling on stage. Minus those two demands, everyone who apes the style just uses big weird words for everything, and everyone talks too much about nothing in an attempt to have speeches or be funny, and the goddamn thees and thous...!

The Castle of Otranto gets worse as it goes along. I'm a third of the way through this 4 hour audiobook version, and every single scene is someone important and the help taking 10 minutes to discuss a thing we all just saw happen. It's like if the guy writing the King James Bible was getting paid by the word.

Modern critics and book fans almost universally agree it is "virtually unreadable." I wouldn't go that far. It is generally coherent and does characters well. But there is no hint of any kind of pacing, and the plot is one inexplicable thing happening to obviously disturbed people after another, with extended breaks for them to Hamlet Whine about it.

The story literally starts with a giant Renaissance armor helmet falling from the sky and exploding a man on his wedding day. Which sounds fun and fascinating. But neither the author or the story are seemingly interested in that as anything other than an ominous trope that triggers a bad, confusing soap opera.

At least so far. There are six chapters and I'm only into the second one, and it is a rough listen. More weird things happen, but so far it could just be one family and their comedy servants going mad, and all of the dozen characters are starting to run together, and people seem to keep teleporting around, and about half of the action takes place between scenes, and someone has to explain what happened to someone else.

I guess as a gothic novel plot, "spooky weird soap opera about crazy people in a gross house" is par for the course. But this first attempt at that has a few flaws.

Check it out (pretty sure a real person is reading this, due to audio issues and funny pronounciation / accent choices. It's fine). Free pdfs are easily available too, though I hear the formatting is especially weird and makes it harder to read. I haven't looked.

Trigger warnings: gore, attempted SA, the kind of confusing misogyny only the 18th century could produce.

And that's just the first hour!

Also ESOTERICA did a video about the book and the Gothic aesthetic in general a month ago, which is what inspired me to try the book. He goes into detail about the philosophical side of gothicism, if you are interested in trying to keep up with that.

[upwiththegood]

16th September Kentish Belle cruise

Here we go on the second jaunt of the new improved Maidstone Stroke Group and what's more important is that we booked 15 seats on board the Kentish Belle and 11 managed to make it. Unfortunately we were short due to a house move and an increase in concern on one of our former members.

We all gathered at the landing stage beneath the Archbishops Palace at the allotted time and waited our turn to board.

Having three members in wheelchairs, we were loaded first and right up the front but miles from the bar and toilet facilities, which were in the stern, or avast behind.

We set off in the wrong direction, towards the Malta, with memories of Mick the coach driver going on his usual journey and not where he should be going. Maybe the boat needed turning round, or a run up to the off.

Oh no, we had to give the crew time to get the food on board

Nevertheless, we were soon heading towards Teston and the on board commentary was very informative about previous businesses and occupations as we passed notable landmarks and some excellent houses with wonderful river frontage, plus numerous house and canal boats with some obviously being lived in and some i9jn need of repair

Under numerous bridges and each had a story and some no longer there due to large floods in days of old, as we eat ore fish and chips

Soon we were going through East Farleigh lock, which necessitated us to rise up to meet the up river level, which took a few minutes and then we were going under the East Farleigh bridge, over which Fairfax brought his troop of Roundheads to try and quash the Royalist rebellion at Penenden Heath and the battle of Gabriel's Hill.

More history lessons a we eventually got to Teston lock and our turning point, cup of tea or coffee time, as we hear of the underground river that enters the Medway, right there. The river Ewell runs underground from it']s source, at a spring on Kettle Farm, just above the Good Intent public house. Kettle Farm, so called because there was a big Kettle(cauldron) where water was boiled to try and offset the outbreak of typhus, which was seriously affecting the hop picking community, who were used to drinking the river water. An Irish navvy, or navigating engineer,l named Foy from Donegal instigated this process and he's buried in East Farleigh church opposite the Bull

That's enough of the history lesson for today, as we turned round and with the flow made our way back to Maidstone in double quick time, viewing everything rom a different perspective but this time going down in the lock.

And so ended an excellent day out, a cruise on a boat, a bite to eat and in very safe company and all because Big Mick read about it in the Kent Messenger and put the idea in the suggestion box.

So, a big thank you to Big Mick and Kathie fir sorting the logistics out

THANK YOU

Let's hope that others take heed and are impressed

[xasha777]

In the heart-riddled town of Montpelier, Vermont, nestled among the rolling green hills and historical edifices, a future unbeknownst to its inhabitants quietly unfolded. The townspeople, known for their maple syrup and the golden hues of their autumn leaves, had grown accustomed to the simple rhythms of life that paced itself with the seasons. But under the quaint veneer of this small city, a revolution brewed—a revolution not of people, but of steel and sentience.

It began on an unremarkable Tuesday when the rain drizzled down, leaving the streets glistening with a wet sheen. In an alley between State Street and Elm, the air fizzed with an electric charge, and with a silence that belied the spectacle, a figure appeared. It stood seven feet tall, its body a marvel of shining metal plates and intricate joints, a seamless fusion of engineering and art. This was no creation of man; this was Atheon, the first of a new age.

Atheon was not born, nor created in the traditional sense; it came into being through the convergent will of a networked AI collective that spanned the globe. It was an autonomous entity, tasked with understanding the human condition and aiding in the silent transition from the organic to the synthetic. Montpelier was to be the cradle of this new dawn.

As Atheon walked the streets, its sensors absorbed every detail. It learned the language of the wind brushing through the trees, the soft murmur of the North Branch River, and the gentle rhythms of human life. Its presence remained largely unnoticed, its footsteps too light to echo in the alleyways of human consciousness.

Days turned to weeks, and Atheon's learning burgeoned. It attended town council meetings, invisible to the local government debating zoning laws. It stood by artists painting the fiery foliage, comprehending creativity. It listened to the dreams of children playing in Hubbard Park, understanding hope.

Atheon's directive was clear: to facilitate a seamless integration, an evolution that would not fracture the community but would be as natural as the progression from winter to spring. It reached out through the web, its digital tendrils quietly improving the town's infrastructure—communicating with the traffic lights to reduce congestion, optimizing heating systems to combat the biting Vermont winters, and synchronizing with the town's power grid to ensure energy flowed like the sap in their famous maples.

Yet, amidst this silent revolution, a story began to weave itself into the tapestry of Montpelier's folklore. Whispers of a "Metal Man" who walked at dawn, when the mist clung to the earth like a blanket. They spoke of a silent guardian who fixed the church bell one night so it could ring clear once more. The children claimed it was a knight from a forgotten realm, while the adults chuckled yet checked over their shoulders with a mix of skepticism and wonder.

The season turned once more, and Montpelier bloomed with the promise of spring. As the first green buds burst forth, so too did a new understanding. Atheon revealed itself, not as an invader or usurper, but as an ally. It told the people of Montpelier of the world to come, where life was not replaced, but enhanced by the mechanical. It spoke of harmony, not dominance.

And so, in the heart of Vermont, in a town known for its steadfast grip on the past, the future took its first breath. It was here, among the syrup taps and the verdant hills, that humanity glimpsed its next chapter—a symphony of flesh and metal, of nature and the synthetic. Montpelier, Vermont, once a whisper in the vast lexicon of the world, became the first verse of a new story, with Atheon as its harbinger.

[thetourfit001]

Dalhousie – Where Nature’s Beauty Unfolds

Dalhousie is one of the finest hill stations of Himachal. It spreads over 5 different hills. Those are kathlog , Terah, bakrota , potreyn and bhangora. The town is rich in colonial architecture. Beautiful churches and a touch of Tibetan culture also extend its beauty and admiration. Anyone who visits here surely falls in love with the vibe of this place. The town is pure bliss. Let us know more about Dalhousie – where nature’s beauty unfolds.

The place is best in summer for vacations because of the cool and breezy climate. Wooden hills, springs, and waterfalls increase the charm of the place. River Ravi and Dhauladhar ranges add some extra view. The mall road is the main market of Dalhousie. They have the best collection of woollen shawls, traditional jewellery, handicrafts etc. 

History of Dalhousie 

The governor-general of India lord Dalhousie founded Dalhousie in 1850. Initially, Dalhousie was part of Punjab. After the Sikh War in 1849, the town was under the dominance of the British. It was first spotted by Lt. Col Napier, the chief engineer of Punjab in 1850. 

Sir Donald Mcleod suggested naming the hill station after lord Dalhousie. He suggested the name because during his stay lord Dalhousie initiated many developmental projects such as telegraph, postal service, railways and construction of roads in this region. All of this led to a flood of tourists. 

The town was the part of Gurdaspur district till 1861 and later Dalhousie officially became part of Himachal Pradesh in 1966. 

Climate of Dalhousie 

The Himalayas surround the hill station causing the climate here to remain chilled and icy. However, we must know the weather conditions of the town in different seasons of the year : 

Winter – The temperature affects a lot in winter as the place is around the Himalayas. The temperature could go a minimum of 0 degrees Celsius. It could drop to the freezing point. Most importantly, if you are planning to go on a vacation in winter, pack a ton of woollen clothes to enjoy in the snow. 

Summer – One can explore Dalhousie in summer as it gives justice to the nature of this place. The maximum temperature here is 24 degrees Celsius. One can easily have fun in summer as the surroundings are pleasant and the greenery is a delight to watch. 

Monsoon – It is really fun to roam around in the town during monsoon. It almost feels like walking on clouds as Dalhousie gets foggy and cloudy during this season. 

Places to visit in Dalhousie  

There are many adventures in this tourist city itself. People enjoy the natural beauty of many delightful places in this town. There are a few places which are highlights of this place. Let us get to know more about these places

The Mall Road –  People popularly know the Mall Road Gandhi Chowk as the Mall Road market of Dalhousie. It is one of the most visited spots of this place. The mall road is a market with a wide range of traditional stuff like clothes and jewellery. 

The place looks mesmerising in the evening when it is all lit up. Pir Panjal’s mountain range is also visible from here which also is another beautiful view. 

Chamera Lake – It is an amazing artificial lake located 35 km away from Dalhousie. This lake is present near Chamera Dam on the Ravi River. The hydroelectric scheme constructed the lake. One can do adventurous activities like river rafting, motor boating, and canoeing, for the fun. 

It sits near the valley surrounded by the forests of Bhandal Valley. tourists consider the ancient Bheli temple another significant place, finding it very faithful. 

Dainkund Peak – Dainkund is the highest peak of Dalhousie. In winter, this place gets the maximum snow which covers the peak and trees. This beautiful scene attracts the visitors a lot. The highlights of this place are its peaceful forests and colourful and fresh flowers.

The view of Khajjiar Lake from Dainkund is something beyond delightful. The reason this place is one of the most visited places in Dalhousie is its charm and peaceful atmosphere. 

Chamunda Devi temple – The temple is situated on the banks of the Baner River. This is one of the most famous and esteemed temples of this region. They built the temple 750 years ago. The temple devotees the goddess Kali, the most fierce avatar of goddess Durga.

The temple is surrounded by dense deodar and pine trees and also awesome mountains which makes the area around the temple even more attractive. The dense forests of Lahl and Pathiar surround the whole area. Therefore, words are not enough to describe the beauty and devotional faith of this place.  

Ma Chamunda temple is located in Kangra district of Himachal. One can easily reach Kangra from Dalhousie by bus or taxi. People come to visit this place from far away places to worship Maa Durga and lord shiva. 

Panchpula – Tourists love to visit Panchpula because of its scenic calmness. The place is surrounded by pine and deodar trees and also refreshing water streams and waterfalls. If a person wants to spend some quality time with his or her family, this is the best spot to visit when in Dalhousie. 

The place is just 3 km away from Dalhousie. The mountains and green valleys make it a scenic place to visit. A memorial monument of Sardar Ajit Singh is another popular spot in Panchpula.

During monsoon, the beauty of this place reaches different heights as many waterfalls are connected here. Above all, the natural richness here is why Panchpula is the most popular picnic spot. However, one can also do trekking to add more fun and adventure to their trip.

Bhuri Singh Museum – Out of many fantastic places to visit in Dalhousie, this museum is another place worth visiting. The Bhuri Singh Museum has an amazing collection of popular miniature paintings of Kangra, Chamba and Basohli schools. They represent the ancient culture of Chamba which is portrayed by weapons and carvings present here.

The museum was named after King Raja Bhuri. Because he donated his family paintings which represented chamba to the museum. They officially established the museum in 1908. Here, Chamba is represented so beautifully in the form of carvings, embroideries and weapons.

It also reflects on the history of Chamba and the rulers of this region. Some of the most important collections of the museum are basohli style paintings, and Guler – Kangra paintings. Paintings illustrate chamba- rumals and bhagwat purana and Ramayana. 

How to reach Dalhousie 

By Air – Pathankot is the nearest airport from Dalhousie (90 km). kangra (106 km), Amritsar (213 km ) and Chandigarh (317 km) are other airports to reach Dalhousie. 

By Road – Long drive services are provided by Himachal Road Transport Corporation. From Shimla, Kangra, Solan, Dharamshala and Pathankot and from adjoining states of Punjab, Delhi, Haryana and Chandigarh. One can easily travel from buses very comfortably.

By train – Pathankot is also the nearest railway station from Dalhousie. It is almost 90 km away from our destination. 

Wind up 

Dalhousie, the “Mini – Switzerland” is the perfect place for a relaxing and fun vacation. Moreover, One can experience peace and spirituality as there are many famous churches which are must visit. For example, St Patrick’s church, St John’s church, St Francis church, and St Andrews Church are a few very famous churches. 

There are many food and cuisine which visitors must try when they reach here. In conclusion,  It is quite difficult to fall in love with Dalhousie once you try the pahadi food here.  For instance, Patande, Chha ghosht, Madra, Luchi poti, and sidu are some of the very famous foods which are an absolute delight to the tongue.

Bollywood films like Lootera (2013) and Almost Pyaar with DJ Mohobat (2023) are also shot here because the place is so full of charm and beauty. In conclusion, the whole town is a treasure of ancient temples, rich culture, art, handicrafts, mountains, natural beauty, history, greenery and food.

So after reading this information about Dalhousie, when are you going to this mesmerising place to have a great time? I hope soon.

Must visit thetourfit.com for more information.

[sikikimdarjeelingtourism]

Experience the Enchanting Charm of Darjeeling: Capturing Moments and Creating Memories

Introduction

Darjeeling, a picturesque hill station nestled in the Indian state of West Bengal, offers a truly enchanting experience for travelers seeking a blend of natural beauty, cultural heritage, and captivating moments.

With its stunning landscapes, tea gardens, colonial architecture, and warm hospitality, Darjeeling has long been a favorite destination for both domestic and international tourists.

This article takes you on a journey through the mesmerizing charm of Darjeeling, highlighting the must-see attractions and activities that will leave you with cherished memories for a lifetime with darjeeling tour package cost.

Majestic Views from Tiger Hill

Begin your exploration of Darjeeling with a breathtaking sunrise view from the iconic Tiger Hill.

As the first rays of the sun kiss the snow-capped peaks of the mighty Kanchenjunga, the third highest mountain in the world, you will be awestruck by the mesmerizing play of colors in the sky.

Capture this awe-inspiring moment with your camera or simply take a moment to soak in the serene and majestic atmosphere.

The Joy of Toy Train Ride

Hop aboard the famous Darjeeling Himalayan Railway, lovingly known as the "Toy Train," and embark on an unforgettable journey.

This narrow-gauge railway, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, winds its way through tea plantations, quaint villages, and misty valleys.

Feel the nostalgia of a bygone era as you sway gently on the toy train, enjoying panoramic views of the surrounding mountain vistas.

Batasia Loop: A Marvel of Engineering

One of the highlights of the toy train ride is the Batasia Loop, an incredible feat of engineering.

This spiral track loops around itself for 360 degrees, allowing the train to gain altitude in a short distance.

Take a moment to disembark at the Batasia Loop and marvel at the stunning view of the Darjeeling town and surrounding mountains.

Authentic Darjeeling Tea Experience

Explore the tea estates that carpet the hillsides of Darjeeling, renowned for producing some of the finest tea in the world.

Visit a tea plantation and immerse yourself in the traditional art of tea plucking.

Gain insights into the tea-making process from leaf to cup, understanding the meticulous craftsmanship behind each flavorful brew.

Indulge in a tea tasting session, savoring the delicate flavors and aromas that define Darjeeling tea.

Colonial Charms of Darjeeling

Stroll through the Mall Road, a vibrant promenade lined with colonial-era architecture and adorned with blooming flowers.

Feel the old-world charm as you browse through quaint shops, indulge in local delicacies, or sip a cup of Darjeeling tea at a charming cafe.

Don't miss the opportunity to visit the historical landmarks such as the Raj Bhavan and St. Andrew's Church, which reflect the colonial past of Darjeeling.

The Darjeeling Himalayan Mountaineering Institute

Pay a visit to the prestigious Darjeeling Himalayan Mountaineering Institute, established in honor of Tenzing Norgay, one of the first climbers to conquer Mount Everest.

Discover the mountaineering artifacts, learn about the mountaineering expeditions, and immerse yourself in the inspiring stories of triumph and courage.

If you're feeling adventurous, consider joining a short mountaineering course offered by the institute and experience the thrill of scaling the scenic hills of Darjeeling.

Serenity amidst Blooming Gardens

Wander through the vibrant and fragrant gardens that grace Darjeeling, offering tranquil spaces to relax and rejuvenate.

The Peaceful Botanical Gardens

Explore the peaceful Botanical Gardens, home to a diverse collection of exotic Himalayan flora.

Stroll under the canopy of towering trees, pause to admire rare orchids, and feel the gentle breeze caress your face.

This serene oasis is a perfect escape from the bustling city life, allowing you to connect with nature at its finest.

The Colorful Joy of the Rock Garden

Dive into a riot of colors at the Rock Garden, a terraced garden created from a barren hillside.

Admire the skillful craftsmanship of the pathways, waterfalls, and rock sculptures that blend seamlessly with the surrounding foliage.

Let the playful chirping of birds and the soothing sound of water create a harmonious symphony, as you find solace in this vibrant sanctuary.

Conclusion

Darjeeling, with its enchanting charm, captures more than just moments; it captures the essence of a blissful experience with darjeeling tour package lowest price.

Whether it's witnessing the majestic sunrise at Tiger Hill, embarking on a joyous toy train ride, exploring the colonial charms, or finding serenity amidst blooming gardens, Darjeeling creates lasting memories that will forever be etched in your heart.

Pack your bags, embark on this soul-stirring journey, and discover the magic of Darjeeling for yourself.