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jomiddlemarch · 5 months

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That it alone is high fantastical

“Oh, Mother, you’ll never guess! You’ll never guess in century of guessing!” Rilla cried out, sounding so much as she had as a little girl, for a moment, Anne could convince herself the War had never happened and that somewhere in Rainbow Valley, Walter sat writing a crown of sonnets in his leather-bound journal, his face dappled by the light, back braced against the bole of a birch tree, his grey eyes unfocused as he searched for his next word.

There was still a white stone in the graveyard. Shirley was in Toronto, having refused (albeit politely) to return to Glen St. Mary, much to Susan’s dismay, and Jem walked with a pronounced limp, his uneven gait announcing him as much as Mary’s voice.

There was a mystery there, Jem and Mary Vance, but Anne couldn’t see any way through it and Gilbert, lying beside her in bed, both of them tired but sleepless, told her not to try. Jem had seemed less removed, less falsely cheerful lately, and had begun talking about the medical course again, perhaps a specialty in obstetrics, a hospital practice. As far away from men dying in battle as he can get, Gilbert had observed and Anne had recalled Joyce’s little face, white as a mayflower blossom, and held her tongue.

Rilla, remarkably, given her exuberant entrance, had done the same in the absence of Anne’s response. Miss Oliver had left Ingleside some weeks ago, so there was no one to suggest Rilla either elaborate or calm herself, as her likeness to a whistling copper tea-kettle was increasingly pronounced.

“If I’ll never guess, dear, you must tell me,” Anne said. It was a relief that Rilla could still be the young girl she ought to be, for all that she wore Ken Ford’s diamond ring on her finger and was capable of a brisk, warm matronliness when it came to raising Jims, now reserved for the writing of letters to his new British stepmother and clucking over the missives she received.

“Faith Meredith has eloped!”

Anne did admit to herself she would never have guessed that, because for all her imagination, she wouldn’t have guessed something impossible.

“But, Rilla, Jem is with your father today, doing the Lowbridge rounds. Susan and I packed a lunch with plenty of pie for Dad and some of that flapjack Jem took to after being in England,” Anne said. He’d been in hospital in England, recovering from the injuries he’d sustained at the Front, in the prison camp, during his escape, none of which was spoken of. Only flapjack and stewed tea and how no cook in England was a patch on Susan and that you may tie to, uttered with some semblance of his old roguish humor.

“I didn’t say she married Jem, Mother!” Rilla exclaimed. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes were bright. She had a look of Gilbert at his most delighted about him, an expression Anne remembered from their childhood. Anne opened her mouth to speak but Rilla interrupted.

“It’s Bertie Shakespeare Drew! Faith Meredith is Mrs. Bertie Shakespeare!” Rilla said.

If Anne hadn’t already been sitting down, she would have, suddenly and gracelessly. As it was, the shirt she’d been mending fell from her lap.

“That’s—why, Rilla, are you sure?”

“I heard it directly from Mary Vance,” Rilla said, lifting a hand to stop Anne from speaking. “And Miss Cornelia Bryant. You know Miss Cornelia has no taste for gossip. Miss Cornelia’d heard it from Mrs. Meredith—”

“Poor Rosemary,” Anne said, before she could stop herself.

“Why poor Rosemary? I suppose they thought Faith and Jem would make a go of it, at least, perhaps Reverend Meredith and Mrs. Meredith did, but the War’s done funny things to people and Faith and Jem, they just didn’t fit any longer,” Rilla said. Sometimes, Anne felt Rilla reminded her of someone she couldn’t name and realized her youngest daughter spoke with the wisdom Anne’s own mother might have had. Plenty of folks in the Glen would find such a thought eerie, but Anne was comforted, for all that she ought to be the one offering a thoughtful explanation rather than receiving it.

“I suppose I meant the surprise, an elopement—”

“They must not have wanted to wait. Or were afraid someone would try to talk them out of it. Bertie’s mother maybe,” Rilla said.

Rosemary or her father, Anne thought. Jem, if he’d been given the chance, perhaps. Perhaps not, if Rilla was correct.

“Bertie Shakespeare Drew,” Anne said. “I remember when he was born. He’s just Jem’s age.”

“He’s not much like you remember him, Mother. He’s all tall and stalwart now and they say he’s going in for engineering, that he learned quite a bit in France, found he had a talent for that sort of thing. And his ears don’t stick out quite so much anymore,” Rilla said.

“There’re more things on heav’n and earth,” Anne said, mangling the quote a bit, fairly certain Rilla would not correct her. “D’you suppose Faith calls him Bertie? Or his full name—it’s quite a mouthful.”

Queenly Faith Meredith, the undisputed beauty of Glen St. Mary, who had a sense of humor but also a sense of herself as beyond any teasing, now to be Mrs. Bertie Shakespeare Drew. Anne smiled to herself and thought how Mary Vance would find a way to make Jem grin over it all. She’s lucky to get him, Mary would say, reversing the order the Glen would have assumed, and Mary, canny and unexpectedly kind, would have the right of it, perhaps.

Susan would be quite outraged and the pastry of her next pie might suffer for it, but Gilbert had always taken an unchristian glee in Susan’s outrage and wouldn’t mind the pastry being a bit heavier. It was still the best piecrust on Prince Edward Island, now that Mrs. Rachel Lynde was no longer living to give Susan a run for her money.

“Miss Cornelia said Faith was heard to call him Will, when she spoke to her parents. It’s after Shakespeare of course, and because he was so determined they marry,” Rilla said.

“And because Faith wanted to,” Anne said. She wasn’t sure if she meant the elopement or the name, but it was all of a piece.

“Miss Cornelia said they’d gone to New York for their honeymoon and she hoped Faith didn’t come back with a bunch of silly Yankee airs but Mary and I didn’t think that was likely,” Rilla said, sitting down beside Anne, picking up the shirt and starting to sew.

“She didn’t come back from England any different, after all,” Rilla said.

“Except that she didn’t marry your brother,” Anne replied.

“D’you know, Mother, even without the War, I don’t think they’d ever have gone through with it, Faith and Jem,” Rilla said. “It was, how shall I put it, like a childhood fairy tale, the honorable knight and the maiden fair, all sorts of adventures they had in Rainbow Valley. They were always going to grow up. We all were.”

Not Walter, Anne’s heart said. Not Joyce.

“I’m glad of Ken’s name, anyway. And don’t worry, I wouldn’t elope for anything. I want our families around us, as many as we can get, even if we have to wait. We’re rather good at that,” Rilla said. She’d finished the one shirt and picked up another. She peered at it, frowned. “I can’t think what Dad does to his clothes—”

“I’ve made up a thousand stories to try to explain that and I still don’t think I’ve figured it out,” Anne said. “Some things, my darling girl, are beyond explanation.”

This one's for @freyafrida because I didn't manage to squeeze Faith/Bertie Shakespeare into my Jem/Mary fic...

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blogmoderne · 4 years

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#vogue #vogue paris #vogue paris october 2016 #anja rubik #lexi boling #glen luchford #f #fashion #fashion photography #fashion model #green

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ask-de-writer · 4 years

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THE EMPTY GRAVE : MLP Fan Fiction

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THE EMPTY GRAVE

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

581 words

Writing begun 10/02/17

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Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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The night was stormy, with wind and rain. The waning moon came and went through the racing wrack of low clouds, giving little of its ghastly light to the scene.

Moss hung trees shuddered and waived in the wind, rain making a continuous splattering from bare branches and boles. It splattered off of the couple digging a hole in the sodden earth, not far from the crossroads. She wore a checkered scarf against the bitter chill of wind.

The pony with her shook his coat, sending a spray of water to join the gale swept sheets of rain. “Tell me again, Mam, why we are disturbing this grave? I mean, they put ponies in crossroads graves for a reason, usually.”

She nodded calmly and replied, “True enough. The Lord of Cragenmare has decreed crossroads burial for suicides and witches. This is the grave of a witch. I know, um, KNEW her and she was basically a good sort. She did not do curses or cause harm to any. She worked healings, assisted with plentiful crops and to the benefit of local herds and flocks.”

As he continued to heave clods of soil from the deepening hole, he demanded truculently, “If she did so much good, how did she wind up here, in a crossroads grave?”

She glared covertly at him as she shook the thick soil from her spade and replied, “Like many who followed her ways, she was a free spirited mare. She would not follow in any stallion's herd, preferring to mate with whom she willed.”

Lifting out another spadeful, he grunted disdainfully, “A Whorse!”

Sharply, she retorted, “Nay! If she fancied a stallion, she let him have her with no cost or charge! That was not enough for some stallion who tried to make her his mare! When she refused him, he complained of her witchcraft to the Lord of Cragenmare!

“As she was being hanged, he taunted her that if he could not have her, she would have none! For the only time in her life, she pronounced upon him a curse!”

Angrily driving his spade into the wet clay, he snapped, “Twasn't just him she cursed! All over Cragenmare, orchards and fields are suffering! Crops are poor. Ponies are suffering coughs and agues! Tell me that isn't a curse!”

Smiling sadly, as her shovel scraped on the coffin below them, she replied, “You have made a most common error. You have confused the absence of a blessing for a curse. All that you say is true. It was her work that made all go so well. Now that she is slain out of jealousy, all suffer from the lack of her goodness and care. That is all.”

He frowned as he thought over what he was told. Together, they finished clearing the coffin's lid. He stuck a shovel into the joint and pried the top from the coffin. While he was opening the coffin, she pulled the checkered scarf from her neck.

He looked up, confused. “Where is the body? This coffin is empty!”

Lightning flared, showing him the scar from the strangling noose that had ended her mortal life! She whipped the scarf about his neck and heaved it tight! No matter how he struggled, the scarf continued to choke him. Sight and vision fading, he heard, “Never fear, that coffin will not be empty for long!

“The next time that you betray a witch, be sure that she isn't a real one!”

~THE END~

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#THE EMPTY GRAVE #MLP Fan Fiction #Tales to read AFTER the Lights are OUT #Written by De Writer

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imagi77 · 4 years

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The Black Knight ~ ‘Why?’

It was a time when the Spring breeze was ending its peaceful route. It had been a months time, and it was a tricky time… for a mystery had unraveled during that month. It was on some nights when he wished very much to keep his ward from harm, even as her friendships grew stronger… especially toward one Gryffindor named Neville Longbottom.

Word wormed through that someone had found a way into the school, with a mind to assassinate the Headmaster. With this entailing to something entirely leering, Prince had sessions with the daughter to strengthen her shared gift of Legilimency. It meant that the Dark Lord had somehow passed his protections, as a means to get to him in order to get to her.

That meant that he was aware of their bond.

There was a breach one night and the girl had grown so headstrong. Due to a Slytherin’s moronic decision, the breach was triggered by him heading into the woods which brought Lyra there in an effort to bring him back. This was not about to end well.

“Draco, proving yourself as a prefect out here won’t be worth it~ We need to go back!” she begged in a hushed voice.

“Then why’d you follow me? Trying to prove to Da that it’s worth it then? Besides, I only wish to see if its true. About the unicorns…”

“You. Are. Impossible, you know that? Just come back… please? Before Prince has a —“ Lyra froze when a branch snapped ahead of them.

“What was that?”

“I dunno…” Draco swallowed.

“Come on, this isn’t a game. We can get killed out here,” she urged.

The trees were as tall as giants, looming down at them before they came upon a dead glen where a pool or white laid shrewn across the cold ground. The two were smacked with what they hoped was a vision, of a dead unicorn with some sort of shadow gnawing at its throat… Draco dropped the lamp that he had and screamed… running off quick as the girl who was by his side froze… Whatever that was looked up at her with a fierce snarl with silver liquid dripping down from its chin.

Lyra was terrified and soon enough the shadow lunged. She ran quick nearly falling from the root before an array of loud bangs shot behind her, striking trees and the ground as she dodged. With her wand, she screamed EXPELLIARMUS and caused it to fly off. She managed to hide amidst one of the tree boles… With the only spell she knew, she shot back to keep what it was away but it was getting tiresome…

“LYRA!?” cried a voice that she prayed of hearing tonight. She turned to see that dark cloak in mid air, striking that purple drape fully, throwing it aside. Prince appeared as soon as he landed, blocking a green lit spell, who only locked eyes on the enemy.

“DOWN! KEEP YOURSELF DOWN!” he ordered, in a voice so outraged and grated that she dared not disobey.

A battle ensued and when one rock flew into the air, it struck her full on the head, causing her lights to go out in an instant.

That shadow was struck hard by his own enchanted lightning bolt! But in its own likeness it flew off into the dingy darkness of the terrible forest. His untamed heart remained keen and ready until the flashing light died off, leading him to sight a limb form lying still upon the cold, damp ground. Prince’s blood ran completely cold, his heart beat tremendously loud as that all too familiar sorrow began to overwhelm him. It flashed before his eyes, as tears overtook them, the vision of his lost friend, shrewn on the floor like a ragdoll.

With his breath caught, he swept over to her, encasing her body under his cloak, protectively, like a wing. Lyra's hearing was dim and her temples throbbed like no miracle. The air thundered before she felt a strong presence over her, shielding off something unforgiving.

“I’m here, my love…” she heard a whisper, as soft as silk. “I’m here…”

Opening her eyes, she saw her Guardian by her side, slowly taking her into his arms, gingerly. Seeing her show him a precious sign of life let him to let his breath go in intense relief. She saw that his eyes were sparkling.

“… sir, I—“ she struggled, remembering what just happened. “… I tried to, but he wouldn’t listen to me.”

“Why did you… deliberately … Disobey me…?” he growled, breaking up no matter how much he fought it. “Why?”

“I’m sorry…”

“You would have been — When I tell you to remain in the border, you STAY there. If I lose you… If. I. Ever . . . lose you!”

“I didn’t mean to…”

Prince never felt so frightened during these horrible few seconds of seeing dear Lyra in such a way. For a desperate moment as he felt his heart break, Prince held her close and tight to him, vowing to never let her go again. Words could not describe the Love he had for her. He almost lost himself entirely but the only mark she had earned from her disobedience was a small cut near her temple from a stray stone.

“Look at me,” he soon gathered enough wit within himself to keep his voice firm enough. As if handling glass, he got a good look at her cut. Wiping a drop of blood away, he took his wand in hand, and swept over it as he sang out ~ Episky… and the wound was softly healed up.

“I am taking you home…” the man tenderly stated, and he lifted her up, flawlessly, while scanning the forest. Not a soul was with them. That beast vanished, without a trace.

#The Black Knight #Severus Snape #Drabbles #Angst #Pro Snape #Discarded Scenes #Ideas #Prose #harry potter fandom

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babysackville · 4 years

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Monday 4th August 1828

4 50/60

In spite of sprinkling my bed with vinegar bit last night - on the box of the Independent coach at 5 55/60 - stop 5 minutes at the great coach office higher up the street (Argyll street) opposite the tower - stop at 7 ½ at the Hamilton Arms, Hamilton, for 5 minutes but do not change horses till, after passing the fine 5 arch bridge over the Clyde and Evan, stop at Wishaw at 8 20/60 -

A native of Berlin on the coach - said the best part of the scenery on the Rhine was from Cologne to Colmar - he traveled per coach not like our coaches (the German malle poste in fact) carried only 9 passengers from Berlin to Cologne 80 German leagues or 400 English miles - Accum Frederick the book leaf stealing London Chemist, has built a house at Berlin - teaches English and chemistry - Humbolt gave gratis lectures twice a week last winter before the King and such as he chose to admit - going to publish a complete set of his works - set down our Berlinois and an Englishman at Cartland Crags to go down to the stonebyres falls, and stopped at the Clydesdale Inn, Lanark, at 9 50/60 - breakfast off again at 10 ¼ - in 3 or 4 minutes, right, ruined church, old Lanark burying ground - at 10 25/60 on 1 side the road (right) wall of the fir plantation (house not seen) of Bonniton (Lady Mary Ross) on the other (left) Lanark race ground one mile round a nice looking little course - said to be good races here - good red road, made of (said the coachman (sitting on my left) left handed - the 1st left handed coachman I ever saw in my life) burnt stone - all the stone hereabouts red sandstone - fine-ish open country - thorn hedges -

The mail had turned off 6 miles before Lanark and we should get into her road (for a little way) 17 miles from Lanark - at 10 35/60 cross the Clyde, Homeford bridge handsome 5 arch red sandstone bridge - at 10 55/60 sort of moor all round, partly cultivated partly sweet gale and heather closed by the Bigger hills in the distance - at 11 35/60 change horses at Chester Hall Inn (lone house) comfortable Inn enough coach from Edinburgh meets us here - take up passengers and luggage and off at 12 - between Hamilton and Lanark bull without horns, polled, i.e of the Galloway breed - never before saw a bull of this breed - cutting hay grass beyond Chester Hall Inn - Telford did the 8 miles of new road to Lanark and surveyed the whole line [?] from Sterling to Caerlisle 110 miles - at 12 35/60 pass over Duneaton bridge 3 arches over Duneaton river good river - falls into the Clyde just below the bridge -

At 1 12/60 change horse at Crawford - neat white Inn neat small church straw thatched partly blue-slated village - the ruin of Carwford castle (belonging to the Colebrooke family) just on the other side the Clyde (still a goodish river) neither large nor picturesque as seen from the village - more like the ruin of an old gable under house than a regular castle - a few old shabby trees around it and ? at a little distance a neatish white farm house nearly hid among the old trees and farm buildings - at Crawford (thro which the mail passes) the mail-road distance from Glasgow to Caerlisle is marked Glasgow 40, Caerlisle 54 = 94 miles; but the distance we go (vide itinerary) is about 119 miles - on asking the coachman why we did not as I had understood at Glasgow we should, pass thro’ Kilmarnock (22 miles from Glasgow) he merely said the coach did not go that way today - No Beauty in the vale of Clyde from Chester Hall Inn to here (Crawford) bleak, bare hills, goodish sheep-pasture and not very good land bottom - no wood - the hills nearer Crawford and beyond brown heathery wildish and bare a peat moss just on getting out of the village - no orchards all the way from Lanark neither did I see any about Hamilton - why Clydsdale the orchard of Scotland - no part left for it but the 14 ½ miles (charged 15 miles) from Lanark to Hamilton and in the 1st 2 miles from L-[anark] only saw to little orchards when there before -

Off from Crawford at 1 20/60 - at 1 35/60 2 roads that to the left, the mail road to Carlisle - we take that to the right, to Dumfries and pass over 1 arch stone bridge over broadish stream which most at a very short distance fall into the Clyde below - the village of Leadhills or 5 miles from where the 2 roads meet - Leadhills lies between us and Sanguhar (pronounced Sankar) Clyde close left, and handsome 3 arch bridge and Newton, Lord Newton, a good, comfortable-looking square, 3 story, red sandstone house (like an English shooting box) and small village of Ellwell foot consisting of ½ dozen straw thatched cottages and a white Inn - we had had rain but not much, from 11 20/60 from ¼ hour but it began to rain about 1 ¾ and rained very heavily for about an hour, however I was not much wet, I have my tartan cloak which was soaked thru’ wild, bleak, bare road (on the ascent) till about 2 ¾ when we reach the head of the glen of Dalveen where began the property of the Duke of Bucleugh - here too changes the course the waters which on the other side ran towards the glen the German ocean and here ran towards the Atlantic - the Curron run down along the glen - the lofty precipitous green mountains occasionally stripped with shingle, the narrow green glen with its little rapid stream (the Carron), the road gradually descending along the mountain side (made about 14 year ago) fenced off like the Simplon with set stones at 2 or 3 yards distance, the steep height above and the steep depth below, very fine - luckily the rain was rather abating and I could hold aside the umbrella to look about me - not expecting the fine glen perhaps it struck me more - in 10 minutes down the little white one-story Inn and turnpike (lone house) - change horses in 5 minutes and off again at 4 (peats here) in 5 minutes more turn left with the Carron and out of the glen of Dalveen [?] and enter wide bare-hilled valley along the bottom of which the Carron flows down a little shallow glen (as it were within the wider glen) unpicturesque because no wood till a mile or 2 from Drumlaurie castle (duke of Buchleugh) here we get pretty will wooded - a few gentle seats all along here and there from Glasgow but not in general conspicuous enough for me, on the top of a coach to note them down - Drumlanrick castle distance right , old house-like castle conspicuous among woods -

At 3 ¾ island in 2 or 3 minutes more pass thru’ the neat little village of Cornbrig or Thornbrig? (Slates or rather flags put on diamond-wise here and afterwards, because in the common way they will not drain each other so well) wildish, wide country bounded all by ranges of hill - pretty well wooded southwards - red sandstone fence walls and but few thorn hedges here and ever since leaving Dalveen - at 4 change horses at the very good village or nice neat little town (houses chiefly 1 story high) of Thornhill - old fluted column with sort of fret-work capital surmounted by a diminutive looking flying horse - stands on a high, large base a pedestal (hexagon?) 3 steps running all round it - called the market cross - red sandstone town, but mostly washed over and generally white -

Off at 4 10/60 - open habitable, green more populated country - peat moss just below the town - at 4 ¾ come down up the Neth, board good river - (the flat banks seem rather wooded and pretty) pass the 3 brothers (a fine large green oak of 3 exactly similar boles from 1 stock) and at 4 51/60 cross handsome, 3 arch, red sandstone bridge (Algirth bridge) over the Neth, and change horses at 4 55/60 at a mere cottage and little stable 8 miles from Dumfries - at 5 ¼ (little distance left) almost hid among the trees, Ellisland (6 miles from Dumfries) as (as pronounced) the farm occupied by the poet Robert Burns - the house and farmstead still as when he left it - at 5 35/60 see (left) in the distance beyond us peeping from among the trees, the ruins of what the coachman calls the Old College of Dumfries - Cross and Clooton (as pronounced) over 1 large arched red sand stone bridge and pass thro’ the small village of Clooton - prettyish or fineish drive from our 1st coming down upon the Neth to Dumfreis and goodish land 3 or 4 miles from Dumfries - Cross fine 7 arch red sandstone bridge (an older red sand stone bridge of 7 arches at a little distance right also over the Neth) over the Neth (fine river here) and enter Dumfries, and stop at the Kings arms at 6 - very civil people and could have staid there comfortably seems a good inn - excellent hodge podge and some hot roast beef and a little baked pudding but hardly time to eat - dined in 12 minutes - had been quarter hour upstairs changing the paper of my napkin much of my cousin -

Nothing to see in the town, but Burns’ monument in the old church yard - 3 churches (all and town too red sandstone) with neat spires - very nice, neat, pretty town - no trade - depends on its cattle market - great market for pigs from Ireland - Thorn hedges and fertile all (off from Dumfries at 6 ½) round the town - save where the large peat moss just out of the town, and now so accustomed to this can scarce think the comforts of a Scottish town secure with a peat moss - capital road - white villages and houses scattered all around - very few horned cattle - the polled all here abouts i.e the Galloway breed - asked if they were good milk cows, yes! but excellent beef - at 6 55/60 1st turnpike from Dumfries - 2 roads - left 16 miles to Annan - hilly - the mail road - could go the other in as little time, but several gentleman’s seats that way, and ‘it suits’ to have a church on each road - right, our road, 17 miles but pay only ½ toll that way - from here the country plain, flat, not wooded - nor pretty neither picturesque -

At 7 10/60 see the Solway Firth and 2 stooks of oats cut - had ask before why so corn was so much forwarded than the rest, particularly 1 patch of oats quite yellow,and another close to it quite dark green - ‘Oh! because the land’ (of the yellow oats) ‘was lighter’ - at 7 35/60 change horses at the end of the little white village of Clarensfield (as pronounced) - Pass close under the very neat good and small white row of houses called Cumertree and at 8 ½ cross 3 arch red sandstone bridge over the river Annan and enter the good red sandstone but pretty white washed, town of Annan - handsome church steeple - the towns always better as nearer England small coal smoke here - off at 8 40/60 - getting too dusky to see much - disappointed that we do not pass thro’ the village of Gretna Green but change horses at 9½ at a little white Inn by the road side ¼ or ½ mile from the village - the mail changes at the Inn (excellent built by Col. Maxwell to whom Gretna belongs for himself but his wife did not like it so let it for an Inn and it is one of the best on the road) in the village -

At 9 50/60 at the last turnpike in Scotland - the girl gave the coachman whisky - 4/. per gallon duty on it in England, and not drinkable there - so tasted with the coachman by way of adieu to Scotland and her whiskey, thou’ I had been all along the road musing whether to go from Carlisle to Selkirk (6 miles from Melrose Abbey and 60 miles from C-[aerlisle] according to the coachman) per mail which leaves C-[aerlisle] every morning at 7 for Edinburgh - I ought to have gone from Glasgow to Edinburgh and thence by Selkirk, but feared time and knew not exactly the mail-road - almost immediately after leaving the last turnpike cross bridge over the Sark another great stream that here parts England from Scotland - soon afterwards pass the cast iron bridge (one of the 1st of these bridges) over the broad Eske - the tide comes up as far as here - tis called the head of the Solway Firth said our coachman -

Heavyish rain for about 20 minutes before getting into Carlisle - alight at the blank space a second rate sort of not very comfortable coach house at 10 50/60 - by the negligence of the guard my box (caravan) of light things taken off and left at Dumfries - to have at 5 p.m. tomorrow - so I must stay here whether I would or not - about 1 ¼ hours heavy rain early in the afternoon (vide above) but very fine evening from about 5 to 10 ½ and fine morning till it began to look threatening about 11 -

[Left margin: about ¼ hour or perhaps 20 minutes passing the glen of Dalveen - maybe about 2 miles long of fin[?] [?] perhaps a mile of the very fine? the Carron falls into the Neth]

(Diary reference: SH7MLE110041 & SH7MLE110042)

#1828 #august #scotland #anne lister #anne lister code breaker

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sublimerhymes · 5 years

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The Warrigal by Henry Kendall

The warrigal's lair is pent in bare, Black rocks at the gorge's mouth; It is set in ways where Summer strays With the sprites of flame and drouth; But when the heights are touched with lights Of hoar-frost, sleet, and shine, His bed is made of the dead grass-blade And the leaves of the windy pine. Through forest boles the storm-wind rolls, Vext of the sea-driv'n rain; And, up in the clift, through many a rift, The voices of torrents complain. The sad marsh-fowl and the lonely owl Are heard in the fog-wreaths grey, When the warrigal wakes, and listens, and takes To the woods that shelter the prey. In the gully-deeps the blind creek sleeps, And the silver, showery moon Glides over the hills, and floats, and fills, And dreams in the dark lagoon; While halting hard by the station yard, Aghast at the hut-flame nigh, The warrigal yells, and flats and fells Are loud with his dismal cry. On the topmost peak of mountains bleak The south wind sobs, and strays Through moaning pine and turpentine, And the rippling runnel ways; And strong streams flow, and great mists go, Where the warrigal starts to hear The watch-dog's bark break sharp in the dark, And flees like a phantom of fear! The swift rains beat, and the thunders fleet On the wings of the fiery gale, And down in the glen of pool and fen, The wild gums whistle and wail, As over the plains and past the chains Of waterholes glimmering deep, The warrigal flies from the shepherd's cries, And the clamour of dogs and sheep. He roves through the lands of sultry sands, He hunts in the iron range, Untamed as surge of the far sea verge, And fierce and fickle and strange. The white man's track and the haunts of the black He shuns, and shudders to see; For his joy he tastes in lonely wastes Where his mates are torrent and tree.

#poem #poetry #australian poetry #rhyme #Kendall #warrigal

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zarkheatingandcooling-blog · 5 years

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Zark Heating & Cooling Inc

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the-record-obituaries · 5 years

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Jan. 22, 2020: Obituaries

Mary Lovette, 75

Mary Frances Greene Lovette, age 75, of Millers Creek, passed away Sunday, January 19, 2020 at her home. Mary was born November 15, 1944 in Wilkes County to Coolidge Edmond and Ella Mae Staley Greene. She attended Old Fashion Baptist Church. Mary was preceded in death by her parents; her husband, J.C. Lovette; daughter, Mary Darlene Lovette; grandson, Jacob Ellis.

Surviving are her daughter, Brenda Combs of Millers Creek; grandchildren, Alicia Ellis, Floyd Combs both of Millers Creek, Lindsey Combs of Raleigh; brother, Archie Greene and spouse Celia of Cricket; sisters, Edna McGuire and spouse Floyd of Wilkesboro, Nancy Harless and spouse John, Kathy Huffman and spouse Brent all of Millers Creek; eight great grandchildren; several nieces and nephews.

Funeral service will be held 1:00 p.m. Wednesday, January 22, at Miller Funeral Chapel with Rev. Max Combs officiating. Burial will follow in Arbor Grove United Methodist Church Cemetery. The family will receive friends at Miller Funeral Service from 12:00 until 1:00 on Wednesday, prior to the service. Flowers will be accepted. Miller Funeral Service is in charge of the arrangements.

Maxine Winstead, 93

Mrs. Maxine Davidson Winstead, age 93 of Wilkesboro, passed away Saturday, January 18, 2020 at Wake Forest Baptist -Wilkes Medical Center.

Funeral services will be held 2:00 PM, Wednesday, January 22, at First United Methodist Church of North Wilkesboro with Dr. Tim Roberts and Mr. Jim Swofford officiating. Entombment will be in Scenic Memorial Gardens Mausoleum. The family will receive friends from 12:00 until 1:30 prior to the service in the Faith Center of First United Methodist Church of North Wilkesboro.

Mrs. Winstead was born February 9, 1926 in Randolph County to Causey J. Davidson and wife Jessie Lewallen Davidson. She was a homemaker and a member of First United Methodist Church of North Wilkesboro.

In addition to her parents, she was preceded in death by her husband; W.E. (Willie) Winstead and her five sisters and brothers.

She is survived by two daughters; Pam Lenderman and husband Keith of Wilkesboro and Sue Teague and husband Jeff of Wilkesboro, two grandchildren; Kelly Lenderman Plumley and husband, John Ryan Plumley of Mt. Holly, NJ, and Meredith Pennington Wingler and husband Dustin Wingler of Wilmington, NC and two great granddaughters; Drew Willa Plumley and Emma Lilly Plumley. A special friend and sister in law; Doris Davidson of Randleman and several nieces.

Special Thanks to Mountain Valley Hospice, Rose Glen Village and Wilkes Senior Village Traditional Living for the love and care they showed her.

The family requests no flowers but please make a donation to your favorite charity.

David Gambill, 76

David Paul Gambill, age 76, of Wilkesboro, passed away Friday, January 17, 2020 at Wake Forest Baptist Medical Center-Wilkes Regional. Mr. Gambill was born June 6, 1943 in Wilkes County to Buel "Buck" and Paulene Bumgarner Gambill. He was preceded in death by his parents; grandparents; numerous aunts and uncles.

Surviving are his son, Sherman Buel Gambill and spouse Jessica of Cary; grandson, Camron Gambill of Cary; half-brother, Jerome Gambill and spouse Jennifer of Elkin; aunt, Carol Shirley Triplett of Wilkesboro; uncles, Robert Gambill and Russell Gambill of North Wilkesboro; nieces, Grace Elizabeth and Lily Hope Gambill; and multiple cousins throughout Wilkes, surrounding counties and other states.

Mr. Gambill enlisted in the United States Navy and completed boot camp at Great Lakes Naval Base where he looked forward to serving his country before receiving an honorable medical discharge.

Throughout his life, Mr. Gambill worked in several careers alongside his father and uncles at Gambill Brother's Construction Company, in grading, building and concrete finishing before also working at Hobe's Ham. He retired from Abitibi-Price and later returned to part-time work at Lowes Foods.

Mr. Gambill enjoyed being with family and friends, Sunday dinners at both of his grandparent's houses, reading, history, astronomy, science fiction, westerns, classic movies, classic cars and NASCAR. He was a strong advocate of caring for those in need and for rescuing and loving animals.

Graveside service was January 20, at Mountlawn Memorial Park, with the Rev. David Sparks officiating. Pallbearers were Jerome Gambill, Chad Gambill, Steve Johnson, James Elledge, Tony Durham and David Ledford. The family would like to thank the following group of professionals who gave great care and respect to Mr. Gambill; Dr. Tomas Vybiral and staff at Blue Ridge Cardiology, attending physicians and staff at Hugh Chatham Hospital, attending physicians and staff at Novant Health Forsyth Medical Center, Dr. Harsh Barot and staff at Wake Forest Baptist Medical Center-Wilkes Regional, Mountain Valley Hospice, and numerous other caregivers. In lieu of flowers, memorials may be made to the Humane Society of Wilkes, PO Box 306, North Wilkesboro, NC 28659 or to the American Cancer Society, c/o Annette Battle, PO Box 9, North Wilkesboro, NC 28659. Miller Funeral Service is in charge of the arrangements.

Ethel Owens, 99

Ethel Elizabeth Owens, age 99, of North Wilkesboro, passed away Friday, January 17, 2020 at Wilkes Senior Village. Mrs. Owens was born September 1, 1920 in Wilkes County to Everette and Polly Garris. Ethel loved cooking and sewing. She was preceded in death by her parents; her husband, John P. Owens; daughter, Betty Brock; son, Raymond Owens; grandchild, Phillip Richard Owens; and great grandchild, Kendra Cothren.

Surviving are her sons, Everette Owens, Sr., Phillip Owens and spouse Willa, Roy Owens all of North Wilkesboro; grandchildren, Tim Brock and spouse Sherry of Mulberry, Ravonda Pruitt and spouse Jerry of Traphill, Johnny Owens of North Wilkesboro, Everette Owens, Jr. and spouse Anna of Kings Mtn., Gina Holloway and spouse Frankie of Mtn. View, Dina Gibson of Charleston, South Carolina, Cindy Owens and spouse William Garrett of Moravian Falls; numerous great grandchildren; and numerous great great grandchildren.

Funeral service was January 20, at Miller Funeral Chapel with Rev. Jimmy Gilreath officiating. Burial followed in Mountlawn Memorial Park. T Flowers will be accepted. Miller Funeral Service is in charge of the arrangements. Pallbearers were Everette Owens, Jr., Johnny Owens, Timmy Brock, Cody Brock, Kenny Brock and Anthony Bailey.

Eva Richardson, 87

Mrs. Eva Jean Chambers Richardson, 87 of Traphill, passed away on Thursday, January 16, 2020 at her home.

Eva was born on July 18, 1932 in Wilkes County to Sherman Rosco Chambers and Myrtle Octavia Welborn Chambers.

Eva is preceded in death by her parents; brothers, Harrold, Lee, Dwight, Bill Chambers; sisters, Pat Chambers, Edmie Joyner.

Eva is survived by her husband Rev. Jackie Richardson of the home; sons, Michael Richardson (Donna) of North Wilkesboro, Tim Richardson (Renee) of Hays, Jamie Richardson of Traphill; daughters, Debbie Asbell (Allan) of Kernersville, Tina Boles (Lee) of Texas, 14 grandchildren, 14 great grandchildren and 5 great great grandchildren.

The Family conducted a Celebration of Life Service January 19, at Mt. Pisgah Baptist Church.

Brother Tracy Nichols and Rev. Brady Hayworth officiated.

Adams Funeral Home of Wilkes has the honor of serving the Richardson Family.

Richard Anderson, 74

Mr. Richard" Larry" Anderson, age 74 of Roaring River, passed away Thursday, January 16, 2020 at his home.

Memorial service wasJanuary 18th, at Briar Creek Baptist Church with Pastor Wesley Mosteller and Pastor Scott Bishop officiating. The family will receive friends from 2:00 until 3:00 prior to the service at the church.

Mr. Anderson was born March 12, 1945 in Wilkes County to Robert "Jack" Lucis Anderson and Ella Mae Blackburn Anderson. He retired from Stroh's Brewery and Tyson Foods as a Chicken Farmer. Larry was an avid golfer and a good friend to all. Mr. Anderson was a member of Briar Creek Baptist Church

In addition to his parents, he was preceded in death by a daughter in law; Michelle Shew Anderson.

He is survived by his wife; Kay Rist Anderson of the home, two daughters; Kimberly A. Weatherman and husband Bryan of Jonesville and Lisa A. Douglas of Elkin, three sons; Richie Anderson of Roaring River, Paul Layne of Raleigh and Aaron Layne of Wake Forest, ten grandchildren; Megan Crosswhite and husband Matt, Lakyn Stewart, Halle Day, Bailey Martin and husband Eddie, Anna Anderson, Tia Sparks, Cassidy Layne, Alex Layne, Olivia Layne and Parker Layne, five great grandchildren, Trenton Sparks, Ansley Crosswhite, Grayson Crosswhite, Waylon Martin and Ellison Crosswhite and a brother; Russell Anderson of Roaring River.

In lieu of flowers, memorials may be made to New Beginnings Community Church 1843 Old Pipers Gap Road, Cana, VA 24317 and Woltz Hospice Home 945 Zephyr Road Dobson, NC 27017.

Maggie Combs, 71

Mrs. Maggie Bumgarner Combs, age 71 of Wilkesboro passed away Thursday, January 16, 2020 at Accordius Health at Wilkesboro.

Funeral services were January 18, at Oak Grove Baptist Church in Millers Creek with Rev. Keith Lyons officiating. Burial was in the church cemetery.

Mrs. Combs was born September 21, 1948 in Ashe County to Thomas Franklin Rogers and Maudie Jane Huffman Rogers. She was a member of Oak Grove Baptist Church. She loved attending church, loved her family and the Staff of Accordius Health.

In addition to her parents she was preceded in death by a daughter; Gwendlon Bumgarner, a great grandson; Joshua Foster, Jr., two sisters; Maudie Sue Dillard and Mary Ruth Hart and one brother; John Franklin Rogers.

She is survived by two daughters; Melissa Sheeler and husband David, Crystal Call and husband Marty all of North Wilkesboro, two sons; Charles Bumgarner and wife Karen and Chris Bumgarner all of Hays, seven grandchildren, Theresa Mooney, Devin Sheeler, Jared Sheeler, Seth Call, Billie Jean Bumgarner, Edgar Silva, Greta Silva, four great grandchildren; Kamron Foster, Michael Walker, Jr., Grayson Walker and Levy Sheeler and one sister; Connie Hart of Purlear.

Flowers will be accepted or memorials may be made to Oak Grove Baptist Church Scholarship Fund, Oak Grove Church Road, Millers Creek, NC 28651.

Edgar Beshears, Jr. 73

Mr. Edgar Lester (Bucky) Beshears, Jr. age 73 of Winston Salem, formerly of Wilkes County passed away Wednesday, January 15, 2020.

Graveside services were January 19, at Yellow Hill Baptist Church with Rev. Ryan Penley officiating.

Mr. Beshears was born December 12, 1946 in Wilkes County to Edgar Lester Beshears, Sr. and Katherine Holland Beshears. He was a member of Fishing Creek Baptist Church.

He was preceded in death by his parents and a brother; Stephen George Beshears.

Mr. Beshears is survived by two sisters; Jennifer B. Osborne and husband; Brown of Moravian Falls, Susan B. Odom and husband Terry of Greensboro, a sister in law; Kim Beshears of Hays, two brothers; Ben H. Beshears and wife Ethel of Purlear and Bobby Kenneth White of Wilkesboro and several nieces and nephews.

Flowers will be accepted.

Jackie Broyhill, 65

Mrs. Jackie Sue Summerlin Broyhill, 65, of Millers Creek, passed away on Wednesday, January 15, 2020 at her home.

Jackie was born on April 5, 1954 in Wilkes County to James Edward "Ed" Summerlin Sr and Georgie Pearl "Bobbie" Lovette.

Jackie is preceded in death by her parents; daughter, Tonya "Sunshine" Walsh; sister, Judy Johnson and grandson Jayln Walsh.

Jackie is survived by her husband, Randy Broyhill; son, Shawn Walsh of Wilkesboro; daughter, Tammy Walsh of Wilkesboro; brothers, James E. Summerlin jr, David Allen Summerlin (Kim); 3 grandchildren, Justin Walsh (Asia Castilleja), Harleigh Walsh, Baileigh Walsh all of Millers Creek and many nieces and nephews.

Visitation was January 18, 2020 at West End Baptist Church. The funeral service was at 1 p.m. Burial followed at Mountlawn Memorial Park in Wilkesboro.

Rev. Brian Miller and Pastor Matt Jones officiated.

Adams Funeral Home of Wilkes has the honor of serving the Broyhill Family.

Conrad McNeil, 88

Mr. Conrad Leon McNeil, age 88 of Wilkesboro passed away Tuesday, January 14, 2020 in SECU Hospice Home in Yadkinville.

Funeral services were January 18, at Lewis Fork Baptist Church with Rev. Dwayne Andrews, Rev. Sherrill Wellborn and Pastor Ronnie Ellis officiated. Burial with military honors by Veterans of Foreign Wars Post 1142 was in the church cemetery.

Mr. McNeil was born January 5, 1932 in Wilkes County to Arthur H. and Bessie Virginia Shepherd McNeil. He was a member of Lewis Fork Baptist Church. He served in the United States Air Force during the Korean War.

In addition to his parents he was preceded in death by his wife; Maria Del Consuelo Perales McNeil, three sons; Michael, Arthur and Gary McNeil, three sisters; Irene

Robertson, Hellen Blackburn and Clara Faye Ellis and five brothers; Ralph, Arvil, Tyre and an infant brother Claude McNeil and Roy Shepherd.

He is survived by four grandchildren; April, Justin, Carrena and Shane McNeil and two great grandchildren; Kaden and Kinsleigh Hackett.

Flowers will be accepted or memorials may be made to Lewis Fork Baptist Church, 395 Lewis Fork Baptist Church Road, Purlear, NC 28665.

Online condolences may be made at www.reinssturdivant.com

Tom Alexander, 92

Thomas Finley "Tom" Alexander, 92, went to be with his Lord and Savior Jesus Christ at his residence on Tuesday, January 14, 2020.

Born in Wilkes County on April 14, 1927, he was the son of the late John H. Alexander and Ella Ballou Alexander.

Tom was a WWII veteran who served in the United States Navy. He retired from driving trucks local and long distance. He traveled in 49 different states. He loved people. He had a warm and friendly personality. Tom never met a stranger. He was a member of Grandview Baptist Church in Waynesville.

In addition to his parents, he was also preceded in death by five sisters and two brothers. Those left to cherish his memory are his wife of 67 years, Peggy Duncan Alexander; one daughter, Melissa Jones (Jay); three grandchildren, Annette Doom (Robb), Jennifer Taylor (Phillip), Jonathan Jones, and four great grandchildren.

Thank you to Pastor Barry Willett and our church family at Grandview Baptist Church for all the expressions of love through prayers, calls, visits and cards.

A graveside service will be held at 11:00 am on Friday, January 17, 2020 at Scenic Memorial Gardens in Moravian Falls, North Carolina.

In lieu of flowers, memorial donations may be made to Haywood Hospice, 43 Bowman Drive, Waynesville, NC 28785. We want to say a special Thank You to nurse Stephanie Jones. Every member of the Hospice team has been very gracious, kind and helpful.

The care of Mr. Alexander has been entrusted to Wells Funeral Homes and an online memorial register is available at "Obituaries" at www.wellsfuneralhome.com

Ellen Kay Lankford, age 57

Miss Ellen Kay Lankford, age 57 of North Wilkesboro, passed away Monday, January 13, 2020 at her home.

A Celebration of Life Service was held 2 p.m., Saturday, January 18, 2020, at Arbor Grove United Methodist Church on Arbor Grove Church Road in Purlear, with Rev. Dr. Susan Pillsbury Taylor officiating.

Speakers were Mr. Ken Welborn, Mr. Larry Griffin and Mrs. Janet Lael Wood. The family received friends immediately following the service in the fellowship hall of the church.

Greeters during the service were Heather Dean and Allison Ivey.

Miss Lankford was born August 1, 1962, in Wilkes County to Samuel Hayden and Willa Mae McNeil Lankford. She was a laboratory scientist with Guilford County Health Department and was a member of Arbor Grove United Methodist Church.

Ellen always excelled in school. She attended Millers Creek Elementary and West Wilkes High schools. During her senior year, she transferred to Wilkes Central High School to take advanced classes, which allowed her to enter college as a sophomore. She went to Appalachian State University in Boone where she earned her bachelors degree in biology. She continued her education at Wake Forest Baptist Medical School and Appalachian State University, going on to earn her masters degree in biology.

During high school she worked for Winn-Dixie grocery store in North Wilkesboro and later for Blue Ridge Opportunity Commission under the late Betty Baker. After completing her college education, she worked at Davie County Memorial Hospital in Mocksville. Later, she went to work for the Guilford County Health Department as a laboratory scientist. She also worked part-time at Moses Cone Hospital in Greensboro in the same capacity.

She lived in Greensboro during most of her working career. She retired from the Guilford County Health Department. Ellen moved back home to Wilkes in August 2015.

Ellen had no children, but rather looked at her brothers, Mike and Jerry's, children as her own. Later, when Jerry's grandchildren arrived, she acted as a grandmother to those children as well. In return, they all loved her dearly.

Although she had many hobbies and interests - mostly dealing with more intellectual endeavors - her main passion and love was for her family, whom she treated wonderfully.

Ellen was also an accomplished pianist and vocalist. She could also play the dulcimer.

She was preceded in death by her parents and two brothers; Gary Steven Lankford and Michael Grayden Lankford.

Ellen is survived by a brother; Jerry Alfred Lankford of Millers Creek, five nieces; Eva May Lankford and fiancé Robert Carlton of Millers Creek, Heather Renee Greene and husband Joven of Wilkesboro, Jennifer Osborne and husband Edwin of Millers Creek, Anna Lankford and husband Josh Church of Millers Creek and Gabriella Lankford of Hamptonville and two great nephews; Sammie Osborne and Charlie Church. Ellen is also survived by her two dearest friends: Janet Lael Wood of Wilkesboro, and Lisa Church of Millers Creek.

There are also four special people Ellen claimed as family. They are Destiny, Cassidy and Samantha Toliver - whom she considered nieces - and their father, Ken Toliver, all of Wilkes. They are the children and husband of Ellen's dear friend, the late Carmel Toliver.

Special music was provided by Gabriella Lankford, Destiny Toliver, Larry Griffin and Rev. Dr. Susan Pillsbury Taylor.

Memorials may be made to Window World Cares St. Judes Children's Research Hospital 118 Shaver Street North Wilkesboro NC 28659.

Online condolences may be made at www.reinssturdivant.com

Stephen Morris Coulter, 78

Stephen Morris Coulter, age 78, of North Wilkesboro, passed away Monday, January 13, 2020 at Wake Forest Baptist Medical Center. He was born January 15, 1941 in Catawba County to Ray and Mozelle Smith Coulter. Mr. Coulter attended the Lutheran Church of the Atonement. He worked many years for Vannoy Lankford Plumbing and four years at the Ebenezer's Attic. Mr. Coulter was preceded in death by his parents; and a brother, Richard Coulter.

Surviving are his wife, Gwynda Bussell Coulter; brother, Gary Coulter and spouse Pam of Newton; one niece and several nephews.

Graveside service will be held will be private. The family will receive friends at Miller Funeral Service from 6:00 until 8:00 Thursday night. Flowers will be accepted. Miller Funeral Service is in charge of the arrangements. Online condolences may be made to www.millerfuneralservice.com

Lee Edward Kilby, 52

Lee Edward Kilby, age 52, of North Wilkesboro, passed away Monday, January 13, 2020 at Wake Forest Baptist Medical Center. Lee was born June 26, 1967 in Wilkes County to Nonnie Edward "Eddie" Kilby and Delores Mae Shumate. He enjoyed riding his motorcycle; doing toy runs with the Hillbillies; and loving his dog Oppie. Mr. Kilby was preceded in death by his grandparents, Bern and Violet Shumate, Gather and Ella Kilby and his wife, Beatrice Kilby.

Surviving are his son, Joshua Lee Kilby of North Wilkesboro; brother, Blake Edward Kilby of North Wilkesboro; mother, Delores Trivette and Fred Wagoner of North Wilkesboro; father, Eddie Kilby and Renee Mendenhall of Dobson; his best canine friend, Oppie; and large extended family.

Funeral service will be held 3:00 p.m. Sunday, January 19, 2020 at Miller Funeral Chapel with Rev. Tommy Mikeal, Rev. Keith Honeycutt and Rev. Dean Adams officiating. Burial will follow in Crossroads Primitive Baptist Church Cemetery. The family will receive friends at Miller Funeral Service from 1:30 until 3:00 on Sunday, prior to the service. Flowers will be accepted or memorials may be made to the Communities in Schools, 613 Cherry Street, North Wilkesboro, NC 28659. Miller Funeral Service is in charge of the arrangements. Online condolences may be made to www.millerfuneralservice.com

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ask-de-writer · 4 years

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MET BY MOONLIGHT : (Part 2 of 3) : Flocking Bay

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to Flocking Bay

MET BY MOONLIGHT

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

5740 words

written 2003 by Glen Ten-Eyck

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express written consent of the author or proper copyright holder.

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Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions. I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for their images.

All sorts of Fan Activity, fiction, art, cosplay, music or anything else is ACTIVELY encouraged!

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I was liking Laelia more and more. We ordered lunch and it was so good that we wolfed it down. We relaxed over coffee and watched the harbor. I could see Allison’s little sailboat skimming out past the breakwater. Laelia appeared to be thinking something over. I let her have time.

Abruptly Laelia said, “Just how interested are you in the local history?”

“I find it to be fascinating,” I said. Then with a grin added, “Almost as fascinating as my present company.”

“Flatterer. Why don’t you come to my house and have a look at my collection?” she asked. Then with an impudent smile said, “No etchings — — — Just woodcuts.”

“That sounds irresistible,” I said, reaching impulsively across the table and taking her hand. We left the Stone Oven and strolled up the street, away from the harbor.

Laelia’s house was on a side street a few blocks from my clinic. Changer’s Ct. I commented on the name and Laelia responded by telling me that money changers used to have shops along the court. Most of the lots along the street were overgrown with brush and trees. Obviously, few had ever lived here. It took a very long time for brush and trees to reach the size of the ones that I saw.

Laelia’s house was another surprise. At first glance, it seemed to be a thoroughly modern cottage set among large trees. Then I noticed traces of the original drive. There was a maple growing in it that was easily five feet through the bole. What at first I took to be siding proved to be hand-cut, adze squared timbers on closer examination. The proportions of the house betrayed great age. The more I looked, the older I realized it was.

The door was made of oak and beautifully carved. It was topped by the Darkmoon crest and filled with scenes from the history of Flocking Bay. I noticed that there were none depicting the Marquost massacre.

The inside of the house showed none of the betraying signs of its age. All was neat. The walls were finished in modern style and the lights and computer in the corner were up to date. The kitchen where she went to fix a pot of tea was as tidy and modern as the rest.

In the living room was a locked, glass front bookcase of antique design, if not a genuine antique. The dairies and other books of her history collection were housed in it.

Laelia emerged from the kitchen with the teapot and cups. She laid out the service, solid silver, not plated, or I was completely off base. I had seen a set like it once before. In a museum. Hallmarked Paul Revere.

She poured the tea and unlocked the bookcase. I carefully took down the first of the Darkmoon dairies and looked at it. It had been rebound several times and was in excellent condition, given the age of its pages. I took down several other volumes at random to assess their condition.

It was a pleasant surprise. Diaries of that era are usually delicate and crumbling. The Darkmoon Diaries were in excellent condition. Even the Hilstrom Diaries were in good shape. I recognized that the early Hilstrom Diaries had many palimpsest pages. In the 1600’s paper and parchment were dear.

For the first time, I learned the full name of that first ancient enemy. He was Eben (short for Ebenezer) Gaston Hilstrom. I did not find the personality revealed in the pages to be a likeable one. In spite of that, he was an acute observer and had much to tell, including the names, not only of his descendants but those of the other ‘founders’ of Flocking Bay. The massacre was described in great and self-righteous detail. Interestingly enough, the matchlock musket that Eben used to slay the Shaman would never fire again, no matter what was done towards repairing it. It was retired to Eben’s mantelpiece with a small plaque.

They had named the town for the many bird rookeries in its sheltered waters and woods.

The first of the Darkmoons had come a year later, from Civilized Europe, though she spoke English only haltingly. She had been a stowaway, fleeing from a forced marriage in Poland. Two ‘honest sailors’ vouched for her and Eben bought her indenture from them to reimburse the ship for her passage. He was pleasantly surprised at the low price that he paid. At the normal and customary rates, she would be a free person in only five years. Eben altered the price on the document of sale and had her services for seven.

Sipping Laelia’s excellent English tea, I turned to the Darkmoon Dairies. She was busy with official business, working away at her computer in the corner of the room. A few people came and went on routine business needing a Justice of the Peace. A few traffic and parking citations, an application for a marriage license, nothing extraordinary at all. After the marriage license applicant had gone, Laelia got down a large ledger type book and copied particulars from the application into it. She shut the book with a snap and a satisfied smile.

I looked up from my reading. The Darkmoon Dairies were fascinating in themselves but there was something that I couldn’t quite put a finger on. It wasn’t their age. I was certain of that. I determined to get copies of both sets of books, if Laelia would allow it.

“Laelia,” I asked hesitantly, “would it be alright with you if I brought over my digital camera and an ultraviolet light?”

She looked up from her work with a secretive smile and asked, “Why the U.V. light?”

I carefully held one of the first volumes of the Darkmoon Dairies open and pointed to a page. “This is a palimpsest. The older writing was erased, probably with a sponge of vinegar, and new writing done over it at right angles. A U.V. light picture of the page with the proper digital enhancement will reveal the original writing as well as that of your ancestress’.”

Her eyebrows raised up and her pupils widened in interest. She nodded. “I had experts look at them years ago. They thought that these weren’t recoverable. If you think that they are and it is as nondestructive as that, go ahead. I will need accurate copies of anything you get, both the palimpsests and the main books. I need good readable copies to give to Mrs. Alderman at the library anyway.” She grinned lupinely and added, “You cannot believe the determination of that woman where a historical document is concerned.”

“Then I will make three copies,” I replied. “One for you, one for the library and one for myself.”

“Yourself? You will have it in your computer and on disk won’t you?”

“I like the feel of paper in my hands when I’m studying. I’m old fashioned that way.”

She had crossed the room in uncanny silence and I nearly jumped when she laid a hand on mine. “I would very much like to recover those palimpsests but there is a problem. I don’t want all of them to be known. Can I sort which ones are to be available?”

What could I say? It was the only thing possible, so I said, “Certainly. I will have to have copies in my computer and storage devices but I won’t release anything without your consent.”

I hadn’t even realized that she was tense until she relaxed. “Thank you, Dr. Fredricks. I don’t know for sure what is there but I do know, from family tradition, that some of the parchment in the first volumes of both the Hilstrom and Darkmoon Dairies was made from skins salvaged from the Marquost village.”

Hiding my excitement, I said, “I have it on good authority that though the Marquost did not write, per-se, they did have a system of pictographs. Some claim to be able to interpret the few pictograms that survive.” I should know. As the last Shaman, I was one! And I had lied about the writing. The Marquost had been genuinely literate.

Laelia said with some authority, “With my family history, I am most curious about any such things. I made tracings of the ones on the Blackwall before you built your clinic around it. Does your system work on stone as well as paper?”

I grinned back at her. “The photographic system was originated for recovering lost stone pictograms. I made some pictures before I built the clinic around the Blackwall. Do you want to see them?” I was already sure of the answer and was pulling a wallet of photos out of my inside coat pocket.

Laelia looked carefully at my enhanced photos, brows knitted in concentration. Almost absently she opened the bookcase and pulled a slim binder out of a hidden drawer. She laid it open and took my photos in hand. After many minutes she laid aside my photos and looked at her drawings with new eyes. She picked up a pencil and began to sketch rapidly, muttering, “Of course, now it makes sense.” Her pencil down, she looked at me and nodded. “Yes, definitely do your magic on the books. Who knows what will be revealed?”

I agreed at once, before she could change her mind. Over the next several weeks Allison became sure that there was something going on between Laelia and myself because I was spending so much time over at the little house on Changer’s Ct. The job of photographing three hundred years of written history was huge. Also, the dairies were fascinating in themselves.

Among the hardships that the people of Flocking Bay endured were many minor animal attacks. Dog bites, the occasional bear mauling, being raked by an eagle for getting too close to a nest were just a few. Occasionally there was a fatal attack but those seemed rare. There appeared to be little discernible pattern to the attacks.

On the other side, Flocking Bay was not your typical small town that would die out. The small fishing fleet always managed to find the best and highest priced catches. Gardens and surrounding farms bloomed. Stores found active trade. No matter the vicissitudes of the world outside, depressions, wars, epidemics or whatever, Flocking Bay continued to prosper quietly.

Few ever wanted to leave and most of those came back.

Through all of this vast span of time the Darkmoons had stayed and observed. Oddly, there was no mention of marriages or husbands. All of the Darkmoon children were female and carried the family name. In so small a town, it was peculiar that nobody seemed to notice. It was simply accepted that the Darkmoons would cling to their ‘foreign’ ways. They stayed to themselves, out of the way, nearly out of town, on the virtually deserted Changer’s Ct. For almost all of that time, the one thing that they did do was handle the duties of the Justice of the Peace. Animal Control had been added to that office in the 1950’s.

The Darkmoons were always ready with assistance for those in the town who needed help. It might be a loan or perhaps just a suggestion for a way to make money. The Darkmoons showed little or no need for money themselves. They always appeared to have whatever they needed for the people that came to them. Perhaps they were independently wealthy. Nobody knew — or cared.

The Hilstrom Dairies ended in 1867. The Darkmoon Dairies came right up to the present. Laelia was still writing in the most recent volume.

The photography had been, if a long project, at least a simple one. Now the real work began. Allison now thought that Laelia and I had broken up. I spent all of my time at the computer, enhancing the palimpsests first.

Some were of no interest, just old notes or handbills of one sort or another. Others were very different. There was the original Darkmoon indenture contract, now recovered. The forgery to gain an extra two years of service showed too. More important to me were the ones on homemade parchment.

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#MET BY MOONLIGHT #Part 2 of 3 #Flocking Bay #Written by De Writer

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