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officialyourdailyinspiration · 3 years

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Devotional Hours Within the Bible

by J.R. Miller

The Abundant Life (John 10:10)

Christ always wants abundant life. He is infinitely patient with the weak - but He wishes that we be strong. He accepts the feeblest service - but He desires us to serve Him with the whole heart. The smallest faith, even like a grain of mustard seed, has power with God and can remove mountains - but God is best pleased when we have a faith that quails at no difficulties, and accomplishes impossibilities. A believer may have but the smallest flame of life, and yet Christ will not despise it. "Smoking flax, shall He not quench."

There is a picture of one bending over a handful of cold embers on the hearth, as if he would get them to glow again. Underneath the picture are the words, "It may be there is a spark left yet." This is a picture of the infinite patience of Christ with those who are almost dead spiritually. So long as there is even a spark left - He will seek in every way to make it thrive. But with all His gentleness toward the barely living, He wants abundance of life in all His followers. "I am come that they might have life - and that they might have it more abundantly ."

Every picture of Christian life which our Lord uses, suggests fullness and richness of life. Fruit is the test and measure of it. The fruitless branch is taken away, and the fruitful branch is pruned that it may bring forth more fruit. "This is to my Father's glory, that you bear much fruit - showing yourselves to be my disciples." (15:8). To the woman at the well Jesus spoke of spiritual life beginning in the heart as a well or spring of water. When we receive Christ, a fountain of divine life is opened in our hearts. At first, however it is only a little spring, a mere beginning of the life of God and heaven in us. Then, later, Jesus said, "He who believes on me… out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water" (7:38). The little spring, by and by becomes rivers. Christ came to give life and to give it abundantly .

There have been those in all ages, whose lives became like rivers in the fullness and richness of their flow. This was true of John and Peter and Paul. Streams of blessing and good poured out from them, which reached many lands and thousands of people, and which are still flowing today, wherever the gospel is known. There are those whose influence for good touches countless lives.

What is an abundant life ? It does not need to be a conspicuous life, one which makes itself heard on the streets. There are some good people who seem to suppose that they are living for a purpose - only when they are making themselves seen and heard. Yet there are those who are rich in outward show - but poor in inward experience. One may have abundant life - and yet move among men so quietly as almost to be unheard and unknown. Of our Lord Himself it was written, "He shall not strive, nor cry; neither shall any man hear His voice in the streets" (Matthew 12:19). No other ever had such fullness and abundance of life as He had, and yet no other ever lived and worked so quietly as He did. Noise is not true spiritual power. The real power in life is in its influence, in its character and personality.

Our Lord puts first in the Beatitudes - humility. "Blessed are the poor in spirit" (Matthew 5:3). It is the lowly ones who live nearest to the heart of Christ, and have most of His life in them. Not those who fill the largest places in the eyes of men, even in the church; nor those whose works attract the most attention, have most of God in the - but those who live humbly, with no thought of human recognition or praise.

The abundant life need not be known by its large financial gifts. The tendency in these days is to measure every man's value to the world, by charities. Money has its value. Those who contribute to charity, to education, to religion, if their gifts are wisely bestowed, are blessings in the world. It is the bounden duty of all who possess wealth - to use it in doing good. But money is never the best gift we can bestow on others; and those who cannot give money - may yet be really generous givers.

A man's money is not the only thing a man has to give. He can give love, sympathy, encouragement, hope, or cheer - and these gifts will help where money would be only a mockery. There are great needs which money has no power to satisfy. There are sorrows which money cannot alleviate.

It was an ancient fable, that an angel was permitted once to visit this world, and from the mountaintop to look down upon the cities and palaces and works of men. As he went away he said: "Why, all these people are spending their time building birds' nests. They are building birds' nests to be swept away in the floods, when they might be building palaces of beauty to abide forever!" If all Christians would put the same earnestness into their Christian life which they put into their bird-nest building, what victories would they accomplish for the kingdom of Christ!

Jesus never gave money. Yet the world has never known such a lavish giver as He was. Imagine Jesus going about with His hands full of coins and dispensing them wherever He went among the poor, the lame, the blind, the beggars, the lepers, the sick - money, and nothing else. What a poor, paltry service His would have been, in comparison with the wonderful ministry of kindness and love He performed in His journeyings through the land! Suppose He had given a coin to the woman who lay at His feet crying for her poor daughter's deliverance. Would that have comforted her? Suppose He had put a handful of money in the hands of the blind beggar at Jericho, instead of opening His eyes - would the generous gift have meant as much to the poor man?

"Silver and gold have I none; but such as I have give I you" (Acts 3:6), said Peter at the Beautiful Gate to the lame man. Then the man was lame no more. Was not the healing a better gift to the poor man than if he had filled His hands with coins? Was it not better that the man should be made strong, so that he would not need to beg anymore, than that he should have been supported a day or two longer in poverty and mendicancy?

The abundant life may not have money to give - and yet it may fill a whole community with blessings through its gifts. It may go out with its sympathy, its words of comfort, its inspirations of cheer and hope, and may make countless hearts braver and stronger. Let the well of love in your heart spring up and pour out rivers. That is what it means to have life abundantly.

To others who turn to us with their needs, their heart-hungers, and their sorrows - we should be their comfort, strength and help. They should go away helped. We should always have bread in our hands to give to those who are hungry. We should always have cheer for those who come to us disheartened and discouraged. "How can I help you?" should be our heart's question, whoever it is that stands before us. The life Christ came to give is only love - God's love poured into veins and through us to those who lack. It is more love we need - when we cry out for more life and more power to do good. It is love that the world needs. Nothing else will make people happier or better. Ethics will not heal broken hearts, nor comfort those who are in sorrow, nor quiet a guilty conscience. The only abundant life is the life that is abundant in love.

How can we get this abundant life? Most of us are conscious of the poverty and thinness of our spiritual life. We faint easily under our burdens or in our struggles. We are not living victoriously. We are not filled with the spirit of Christ. We may have other things - we may have plenty of money; we may have pleasure, power, honor; our hands may be full of tasks. But there is only a little of God in us, only a little of heaven. Our brains may be teeming with plans, projects and dreams of success - but of spiritual life, our veins are scant.

Christ came to give us just what we need - life. We can get it only from Him, and we can take it only as His gift. We have no conception, we who are merely living, with no great, strong, victorious life, what it is possible for us to become as Christians in this world - if only Christ would possess us fully, wholly.

Henry van Dyke tells of two streams that emptied into the sea: One was a sluggish rivulet, in a wide, fat, muddy bed; and every day the tide came in and drowned out the poor little stream, and filled it with bitter brine. The other was a vigorous, joyful, brimming mountain river, fed from the unfailing spring among the hills; and all the time it swept the salt water back before it, and kept itself pure and sweet; and when the tide came, it only made the fresh water rise higher and gather new strength by the delay; and ever the living stream poured forth into the ocean, its tribute of living water - the symbol of that influence which keeps the ocean of life from turning into a Dead Sea of wickedness .

But there is no way to save our lives from being swallowed up in the bitter floods of sin in this world - but by having them full of divine life. A feeble stream of spiritual life has no power to resist the evil of the world. Only the abundant life can keep itself pure and sweet.

A wild gypsy girl was sitting for her picture, in an artist's studio in Germany. Opposite to her as she sat, hung an unfinished picture of the crucifixion. One day the girl asked, "Master, who is that?"

"That is Jesus Christ," replied the painter.

"Was He a very bad man, that they treated Him so cruelly?"

"On, no! He was the best Man that ever lived," said the artist, carelessly.

"Tell me more about Him," pleaded the girl, who had never heard of Jesus before.

Day after day as the girl came to the studio - her eyes remained fixed upon the picture of the Christ on His cross. When her sittings were ended and she was going away, she whispered: "Master, how can you help loving Him who, you say, died for you? If anybody had loved me like that - oh, I'd like to die for him!"

Has not the love of Christ for you - power to win you to love Him?

#J.R. Miller #The Abundant Life #Devotional Hours Within the Bible #John 10:10 #September 2 #2021

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vinayrajoriaofficial · 3 years

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A Critical Essay on the Life & Poetry of William Wordsworth

With respect to 'The Prelude' & the 'Lyrical Ballads'

Portrait of the English Romantic poet William Wordsworth by Benjamin Haydon.

"You have given me praise for having reflected faithfully in my poems the feelings of human nature. I would fain hope that I have done so.

But a great poet ought to do more than this; he ought, to a certain degree, to rectify men’s feelings, to give them new compositions of feeling, to render their feelings more sane, pure, and permanent; in short, more consonant to Nature, that is, to eternal Nature, and the great moving spirit of things."

Wordsworth wrote this in a letter, in response, to his friend, John Wilson on the 7th of June 1802, thanking him for his heartiest congratulations on the success of his Lyrical Ballads and in the process reflected on the ideas of his poetical abilities and ambitions. Indeed, Wordsworth was a poet far ahead of his times, creating over the span of eighty years a colossal magnitude of poetic works which have become a part of the very fabric of the English language and literature.

Like many of his contemporaries, Wordsworth was influenced acutely by the historic event of the French Revolution, of which he was not only an observer but an active participant and supporter. But before delving too deep into his works and genius we must understand something about his life and childhood, without which, one cannot think of understanding his poetry let alone Wordsworth himself.

Young Wordsworth in 1798, in Town End, Grasmere.

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH was born in the Lake District in April 1770 and died there eighty years later on 23 April 1850. He had three brothers and a sister, Dorothy, to whom throughout his life he was especially close. When she was six and he was nearly eight, their mother died. Dorothy was sent away to be brought up by relatives and a year later William was sent to Hawkshead Grammar School.

Wordsworth was cared for in lodgings and led a life of exceptional freedom, roving over the fells that surrounded the village. The death of his father broke in on this happiness when he was thirteen, but did not halt the education through nature that complemented his Hawkshead studies and became the theme of his poetry.

As an undergraduate at Cambridge, Wordsworth traveled (experiencing the French Revolution at first hand) and wrote poetry. His twenties were spent as a wanderer, in France, Switzerland, Wales, London, the Lakes, Dorset, and Germany. In France, he fathered a child whom he did not meet until she was nine because of the War.

In 1794 he was reunited with Dorothy and met Coleridge, with whom he published Lyrical Ballads in 1798, and to whom he addressed The Prelude, his epic study of human consciousness. In the last days of the century, Wordsworth and Dorothy found a settled home at Dove Cottage, Grasmere. Here Wordsworth wrote much of his best-loved poetry, and Dorothy her famous Journals.

In 1802 Wordsworth married Dorothy’s closest friend, Mary Hutchinson. Gradually he established himself as the great poet of his age, a turning-point coming with the collected edition of 1815. From 1813 Wordsworth and his family lived at Rydal Mount in the neighboring valley to Grasmere. In 1843 he became the poet laureate.

A recent cover page of the 'Lyrical Ballads' by Wordsworth & Coleridge, which heralded the Romantic Age in English Literature.

Now, keeping this dynamic canvas of Wordsworth’s life in consciousness can begin to grasp the magnitude of his poetic genius. To begin with, we can say Wordsworth was a game-changer in the history of English poetry. By publishing, his epoch-making collection of poems, Lyrical Ballads, Wordsworth along with Coleridge heralded the Romantic Age of English poetry. On which Coleridge writes in chapter 14 of his book, Biographia Literaria, about Wordsworth and his romantic ideas thus:

"Mr. Wordsworth, on the other hand, was to propose to himself as his object, to give the charm of novelty to things of every day, and to excite a feeling analogous to the supernatural, by awakening the mind’s attention to the lethargy of custom, and directing it to the loveliness and the wonders of the world before us; an inexhaustible treasure, but for which, in consequence of the film of familiarity and selfish solicitude, we have eyes, yet see not, ears that hear not, and hearts that neither feel nor understand."

-Coleridge on Wordsworth, Biographia Literaria

And so we see that Wordsworth did exhibit all these themes and ideas repeatedly in his entire works. He takes as his subjects the poor, the old, and the outcast, for example in the poems ‘Goody Blake and Harry Gill’, Wordsworth talks about an old woman who has to steal firewood to survive the winter. His poem, ‘Her Eyes Are Wild’, about a vagrant woman suckling her child:

Suck, little babe, oh suck again,

It cools my blood, it cools my brain,

Thy lips I feel them, baby, they

Draw from my heart the pain away.

-from ‘Her Eyes Are Wild’

In ‘The Old Cumberland Beggar’, a beggar sits among ‘wild empty hills’ eating, and his ‘palsied hands’ scatter crumbs while the ‘small mountain birds’ surround him, waiting warily for their ‘destined meal’. In the popular poem, ‘The Idiot Boy’ a poor countrywoman, Betty Foy, is the mother of a disabled son who gets lost and spends a night in the open air. When she finds him he speaks wonderingly of the owls and the moon, without realizing what they are.

This was a major breakthrough in English poetry as Wordsworth brought to the poetic arena, the lives of the common people and this was huge because no one had ever made such people a subject of their poems before. Also new in Lyrical Ballads are poems about children and how adults fail to understand them.

In the poem, ‘Anecdote for Fathers’, a boy resists adult logic, and in ‘We Are Seven’, a small girl, whose brother has died, insists that he still counts as one of the family. Wordsworth’s belief in the superiority of childhood is expressed most challengingly in the ‘Immortality Ode’ written in 1802, where he remembers his early years.

A painting of the French Revolution of 1789, which ousted monarchy from France and had a big impact on Wordsworth and many intellectuals.

Through his selected works, written after the experiences of the French Revolution, one also comes to feel the sympathetic nature of Wordsworth towards the lowly and the poor. Like in The Prelude, he recalls, how a revolutionary friend pointed to an emaciated girl they met on a walk and declared:

'Tis against that

That we are fighting

In the ‘Residence in London’ book of the same poem, he remembers seeing a poor man with a sick child in his arms, and writes:

Bending over it,

As if he were afraid both of the sun,

And of the air which he had come to seek,

Eyed the poor babe with love unutterable

As for expressing the moods and settings of nature, Wordsworth is the unquestioned master, often and aptly called by many to be the poet of nature. One can even argue that no English poet expresses nature in its innate sensual beauty and spiritual entirety as Wordsworth.

What’s more interesting in Wordsworth’s portrayal of nature is that for him Nature is not just Mother Earth that needs to be expressed and captured in words but is much more than that. Like in the poem ‘Lines Written in Early Spring’, included in Lyrical Ballads, Wordsworth expresses the belief that nature is conscious as he writes:

'Tis my faith that every flower

Enjoys the air it breathes.’

Or the core Romantic belief that nature is a moral educator is stated with breath-taking simplicity in another Lyrical Ballads poem, ‘The Tables Turned’ where he writes:

One impulse from a vernal wood,

May teach you more of man,

Of moral evil and of good,

Than all the sages can.

In this regard one remembers a famous passage from The Prelude which gives an instance of Wordsworth expressing, nature acting as a moral guardian. The passage is about one summer evening when young Wordsworth takes a boat without its owner’s permission, and as he rows, he expresses:-

A huge peak, black and huge,

As if with voluntary power instinct,

Up reared its head

It seems to stride after him and, trembling, he returns the boat to where he found it. Even when not guilt-ridden, the boy Wordsworth in The Prelude is aware of nature as a living presence:

I heard among the solitary hills

Low breathings coming after me and sounds

Of indistinguishable motion, steps

Almost as silent as the turf they trod.

On Wordsworth’s poetic oeuvre, Walter Pater, a critic of Wordsworth’s time comments in his essay titled- Appreciations (1889) that Wordsworth to be the poet of ‘impassioned contemplation’ and in stressing both words equally, he got the balance exactly right. In his attempts to characterize the nature of the poetic or creative power, Wordsworth laid similar emphasis on impassioned seeing.

Perhaps, one can say, that the best encapsulation of Wordsworth's entire creative output has been written by none other than Wordsworth himself in the poem, ‘Glad sight wherever new with old’, written in 1842 when he was seventy-two. This poem points to almost everything that has been central to his long imaginative engagement with words and things. Wordsworth in it writes:

Glad sight wherever new with old

is joined through some dear home born tie;

The life of all that we behold

Depends upon that mystery.

Vain is the glory of the sky,

the beauty vain of field and grove

Unless, while with admiring eye

We gaze, we also learn to love.

Image Credits:- Pinterest & Google

References & Research:-

The Concise History of English literature by William Henry Hudson

The Routledge history of English literature

The Routledge Anthology of Poets on Poets

A little history of Poetry by John Carey

JASTOR Essays

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chayacat · 3 years

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Devil’s Sweet Star (46)

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ghostface x Female Reader

Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut

***

He couldn't believe he had come to this point. He didn't want to believe it actually. And yet... it’s very real. If one day he had been told that he would use spiritualism to deal with his problems, Danny would have laughed everything he could. Then he would have mocked the fools who believe in it. Unfortunately for him, you believe in it. And he can't really make fun of it. He wants to keep his arms. The day was still under stress and waiting for Melina to arrive, to finally free you from all this. But Danny is not enthusiastic about the idea. But he hides it, to please you.

Melina had arrived early that evening, with two boxes containing all her grandmother's mystical objects. The sooner she comes, the sooner the problem will be solved. That's what she told him on the phone, 1 hour ago. And knowing Melina, Danny suspects that the accelerator must have suffered. He took one of the boxes and went up to the apartment where you were making coffee. Melina arrived with the second box in hand, which she gently placed on the ground.

“Are you sure what you're doing? You didn't need so many objects.” said Danny, sighing.

“Jed. We don’t joke with the spirits! especially evil spirits! I gathered all the objects that Grandma used to chase away negative entities. there is one that will correspond to what we need against those who want you harm!” responds Melina, crossing her arms.

“Because in addition you don’t know what these objects do? it's going to take the whole night!”

“I did as fast as I could Jed... I didn't have time to look in detail at the properties of each object. But all 3, we will go much faster.”

“Do you think it's going to work?” you ask, giving Danny and Melina a cup of coffee.

“The only way to find out is to try. But in your interest, it’s better that it works. As I said, we don’t joke with evil spirits. And who knows what these things might do in the near future.”

In their interests. But Danny already knows the result. He knows very well that it’s a waste of time and you no longer risk anything. But if it can reassure you, then he is ready to let spiritism do its magic at home. Hoping that it doesn’t encroach on his business. And the sooner you are reassured, the sooner he can return to kill poor "innocents" at night. Even if at the moment, the offenders are discreet in Roseville. And they’re few.

Melina began to open the boxes and search throughout this bazaar for the objects that will be most useful in your situation. Candles, amulets, crosses, salt, holy water, a Ouija... All the necessary of spiritism and ghost hunting was in these boxes. It's a real shop. Danny never had the opportunity to meet this woman, the poor one having died, but one thing is certain, she was a believer to the end. You help Melina to search and Danny, in front of this, had to resolve to do the same. If it's not unfortunate...

“Guide to spiritism for newcomers: learn to master and use one's celestial power safely. Are there really people reading this stuff? I thought it's innate and that it was mastered with experience.” said Danny, showing the book at you and Melina.

“It is. But sometimes, it’s...hard to control, to not cross the border. Once my grandma explained to me what happened to one of her friends who, like her, have this kind of gift, crossed the borders between us and spirits world. She was not the same at all. She was... as if she had been drained of all energy, a real zombie. No doctor, not even the greatest specialists could determine where this could come from. But my grandma, she knew that her friend had crossed the point of no return and a few months later... she died in her bed. My grandma was always paying attention since that day.” responds Melina.

“Frightening...” you said worried.

“Isn't it? I would need this book. Thank you for finding it, Jed.”

“A protective amulet? Has it already worked?”

“More than once! It was my grandmother's lucky charm. She always used it as a last resort when other objects did nothing. We will be able to use it too, with salt.” replied Melina.

Danny sighs before looking away. What not to hear... Melina prepared the table and put the book there, which she opened, flipping through the pages one by one carefully so as not to miss anything. She has to make sure that everything goes well, for her as for both of you. Danny glanced at you, seeing your little worried but adorable face. It reminded him of the first time you met Ghostface. The same face that in the end, convinced him not to kill you. In addition to your temper.

“Oh, come on. Are you going to walk away now?” said Jed in Danny’s mind.

“Shut up.” Danny simply responds.

“Imagine that it works. And let this thing not come back. You'll have to believe that all this isn't just a big joke for profit.”

“And if it doesn't work, I'm going to beat myself up and all this mess to go down to the car...”

“Danny, you saw this thing just like me and (Y/N). You can't deny the existence of this thing, whatever it is. And obviously it wants to use you to feed her. The question is how. And personally, unless you're a sadomasochist, I don't think you want to know, and live it.

“Yeah yeah. We’ll see if it works.”

Jed sighed before disappearing. Danny looked at you and Melina again, both of you reading the book to ward off evil spirits. If this stupid stuff really works, he promises to go to church at least once a month. What? it's already better than nothing! don't ask too much of him either... Melina, while following the instructions, installed all the equipment around the apartment. Then she invited Danny to join you in a salt circle that she had drawn following the pattern that was written on the book. She had drawn one for her moving a little away from the two of you.

“Whatever happens, don’t move. You will be safe in it.” said Melina.

“If you say so...” responds Danny not really convinced.

“OK... To the spirits that haunt this couple, I ask you to leave them alone. Let them live in peace and go back to where you came from. They didn't do anything to you.”

A heavy silence was made in the room. No noise. Danny looked everywhere but saw nothing, no mist, no voice, no giant spider legs. The flat calm. He almost wanted to leave the circle to turn the light back on and stop all this circus, but when the idea crossed his mind... he heard them. Voices. And you too visibly. He turned his head in the direction of the voices, and noticed that the door of the bedroom was smoking... this thick mist... yes, it's them.

“Melina...it’s there...we see them! Our bedroom door is surrounded by a black and thick mist.” you said.

“Okay. Don’t move. Stay in the circle! Nothing can happen to you inside.” she responds. “Who are you? Why are you attacking them? And what do you want from them?”

“You will not be able to escape us. Sooner or later, you will come with us. You will soothe our hunger. And you Danny will help us.” said the voice.

“It... wants to take us. It says we have to feed him.” said Danny calmly.

“Why?” asks Melina.

“If only I know.”

Suddenly, as in the café, the door opened on a black mist. The spider legs came out slowly and gradually advanced towards the group. Danny felt that you were sticking more strongly to him. He also felt that you were shaking. By pure instinct, he made you step back to put himself in front of you. If he could grab one of the knives in the kitchen...

“Go away! leave them alone!” replied Melina looking at the opened door.

“Pathetic creature. your little toys won't do anything to us. Now Danny... it's time for both of you to join us.” Said the voice again.

One of the paws rushed at the two of you in one fell swoop, grabbing Danny in the leg, causing him to fall to the ground. Then it began to bring him back to her, while Melina desperately tried to pull him out to free him. So, she could see it? Or she had to feel it and the thing had to appear to her like a shadow.

As he gradually felt the mist take hold of him, your voice brought Danny back to his senses. And when he turned his gaze to you, he saw you throw a knife at him. That's exactly what he needed. He grabbed the knife, got up and planted it in the paw of the thing which, in a shrill scream, let go of him as it returned in the mist, still wounding Danny in the leg in the process. Melina pulled him back and observed the foggy door which gradually became thicker.

The paws tried again to catch Danny but this time it was you who took the initiative to attack. Armed with a chopper, you cut off one of the legs which will make a new scream of the thing. No one had time to do anything that you find yourself throwing against the wall of the living room. Then the other paws came out, recovered the severed paw and left in the mist that disappeared as mysteriously as it had arrived.

“Holy shit...What the f*ck was that?” asks Melina shocked, helping you to get up.

“I... I don’t know. But one thing is sure...it’s scary.” you respond, shaking a little.

“Yeah...I don’t see it, but I believe you. Are you okay Jed? Nothing broken?”

“No. I’m fine.” Danny simply responds.

2 hours later, the three of you were sitting on the couch, a cup of coffee in hand. Danny had bandaged his leg and avoided moving it too much, the pain still being present. He couldn't forget that strange feeling that the mist had made him feel... As if she had tried to take possession of him. For a moment he felt himself and Jed leaving. It was a... disagreeable sensation.

“What do we do now?” you ask, breaking the silence.

“I don't know. This thing... whatever it is, is much stronger than I thought. It’s not an ordinary spirit; it’s an entity that’s very powerful. And whatever we do, it will be useless. I don't know what she wants from you but... you're going to have to deal with it. And pray that one day she will leave you in peace.” said Melina worried.

“It will never leave us alone.” starts Danny with dark eyes. “This thing will never leave us alone wherever we are. She will haunt us down until she gets what she wants: us. Why...that’s the question.”

And he's right. You can run away as much as you want and can, it will always find you. Like a parasite it’s related to both of you, and sooner or later it will have you. How, why and when, that the question. You must enjoy the days to come from now on. Only God alone knows if it will ever be an ordinary day...

Or your last day on Earth.

***

(The last chapters are just as hard to write as the first, fortunately the weekends serve me a little to set up the ideas I want to implement XD As I told you, once DSS is finished, I think I will take one or two weeks of rest before starting the fanfic on RE8 which I think will be more or less long, depending on the direction it will take! so if during these 1 or 2 weeks you have questions or if you want to know more about the poor potato that I am, do not hesitate! I'm always available! I hope you’ll like this chapter like the other ones! Well, it's time for my brain to rest! Have a great weekend to you all! See ya! )

#dead by daylight #dbd fanfic #dbd #ghostface #danny johnson #jed olsen

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orthodoxydaily · 3 years

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Saints&Reading: Sun., Apr., 11, 2021

4th Sunday of Great Lent

Commemorated on the 4th Sunday of the Great Lent, and March 30

The Monk John of the Ladder

The Monk John of the Ladder (Lestvichnik; Klimatikos; Climaticus) is honoured by Holy Church as a great ascetic and author of the reknown spiritual work called "The Ladder", whereby the monk likewise received the title "of-the-Ladder" [Lestvichnik (Slav.); Klimatikos (Grk.); Climaticus (Lat.)]. About the origins of the monk John there is almost no account preserved. Tradition suggests, that he was born about the year 570, and was the son of Saints Xenophones and Maria, – whose is celebrated by the Church on 26 January. The sixteen year old lad John arrived at the Sinai monastery. Abba Martyrios became instructor and guide of the monk. After four years of living on Sinai, Saint John Lestvichnik was vowed into monasticism. One of those present at the taking of vows, – Abba Stratigios, predicted, that he was set to become a great luminary in the Church of Christ. Over the course of 19 years the monk John pursued asceticism in obedience to his spiritual father. After the death of abba Martyrios the monk John chose an hermit's life, settling into a wild place called Tholos, where he spent 40 years in deeds of silence, fasting, prayer and tears of penitence. It is not by chance that in "The Ladder" the monk John speaks thus about tears of repentance: "Just as fire burns and destroys firewood, so thus do pure tears wash away all impurity, both outer and inner". His holy prayer was strong and efficacious, as evidenced from an example from the life of the God-pleasing saint.

The Monk John had a student, the monk Moses. One time the instructor ordered his student to bring ground to the garden for bedding. Having fulfilled the obedience, the monk Moses lay down to rest under the shade of a large rock, because of the strong heat of summer. The monk John Lestvichnik was at this time in his cell resting after a prayerful labour. Suddenly a man of remarkable appearance appeared to him and, having roused the holy ascetic, said to him in reproach: "Why dost thou, John, rest peacefully here, when Moses is in danger?" The monk John immediately woke up and began to pray for his student. When his disciple returned in the evening, the monk asked, whether some sort of woe had befallen him. The monk answered: "No, but I was exposed to great danger. A large fragment of stone, having broken off from the rock under which I had fallen asleep at mid-day, just barely missed me. By luck, I had a dream that thou wast calling me, and I woke up and started to run off, and at that very moment the huge stone fell with a crash on that very spot, from which I had fled..." About the manner of life of the monk John is known, that he nourished himself by such as what is not prohibited a fasting life by the ustav, but – in moderation. He did not spend the night without sleep, although he slept not much, only as much as was necessary for keeping up his strength, so that by an unceasing vigilance he would not destroy the mind. "I do not fast excessively, – said he about himself, – nor do I give myself over to intense all-night vigil, nor lay upon the ground, but restrain myself..., and the Lord soon saved me". The following example of humility of the monk John Lestvichnik is noteworthy. Gifted with a deeply penetrating mind, and having become wise by profound spiritual experience, he lovingly received all who came to him so as to guide them to salvation. But when there appeared some who through envy reproached him with loquacity, which they explained away as vanity, the monk John then gave himself over to silence so as not to give cause for blame, and he kept silence for the space of a year. The envious realised their error and they themselves returned to the ascetic with the request not to deprive them of the spiritual profit of his conversation. Concealing his ascetic deeds from people, the monk John sometimes withdrew into a cave, but accounts of his holiness spread far beyond the locality: incessantly there came to him visitors from every rank and calling, wanting to hear his words of edification and salvation. At age 75, after forty years of ascetic striving in solitude, the monk was chosen as hegumen of the Sinai monastery. For about four years the monk John Lestvichnik governed the holy Sinai monastery. Towards the end of his life, the Lord granted the monk grace-bearing gifts of perspicacity and wonderworking. During the time of his governing the monastery, – at the request of the hegumen of the Raipha monastery Saint John (Comm. on Cheesefare Saturday), there was written for the monks the reknown "Ladder", – an instruction for rising to spiritual perfection. Knowing about the wisdom and spiritual gifts of the monk, the Raipha hegumen on behalf of all the monks of his monastery requested him to write down for them "a true instruction for those following after invariably, and as such would be a ladder of affirmation, which would lead those wishing it to the Heavenly gates..." The monk John, noted for his humble opinion about himself, was at first perplexed, but afterwards out of obedience he set about fulfilling the request of the Raipha monks. The monk thus also named his work – "The Ladder", and explained the title in the following manner: "I have constructed a ladder of ascent... from the earthly to the holy... in the form of the thirty years of age for the Lord's maturity, symbolically I have constructed a ladder of 30 steps, by which, having attained the Lord's age, we find ourselves with the righteous and secure from falling down". The purpose of this work, is to teach – that the reaching of salvation requires difficult self-denial and demanding ascetic deeds. "The Ladder" presupposes, first, a cleansing from the impurity of sin, the eradication of vices and passions in the old man; second, the restoration in man of the image of God. Although the book was written for monks, any christian living in the world receives from it the hope of guidance for ascent to God, and a support for spiritual life. The Monks Theodore the Studite (Comm. 11 November and 26 January), Sergei of Radonezh (Comm. 25 September and 5 July), Joseph of Volokolamsk (Comm. 9 September and 18 October), and others – in their instructions relied on "The Ladder" as an important book for salvific guidance. The content of one of the steps of "The Ladder" (the 22nd) discusses the ascetic deed of the destruction of vainglory. The monk John writes: "Vanity springs out in front of each virtue. When, for example, I keep a fast – I am given over to vanity, and when I in concealing the fasting from others permit myself food, I am again given over to vanity – by my prudence. Dressing up in bright clothing, I am vanquished by love of honour and, having changed over into drab clothing – I am overcome by vanity. If I stand up to speak – I fall under the power of vanity. If I wish to keep silence, I am again given over to it. Wherever this thorn comes up, it everywhere stands with its points upwards. It is vainglorious..., on the surface to honour God, and in deed to strive to please people rather than God... People of lofty spirit bear insult placidly and willingly, but to hear praise and feel nothing of pleasure is possible only for the saints and for the unblameworthy... When thou hearest, that thy neighbour or friend either afront the eyes or behind the eyes slandereth thee, praise and love him... Does this not shew humility, and who can reproach himself, and be intolerant with himself? But who, having been discredited by another, would not diminish in his love for him... Whoever is exalted by natural gifts – a felicitous mind, a fine education, reading, pleasant elocution and other similar qualities, which are readily enough acquired, that person might yet never obtain to supernatural gifts. Wherefore whoever is not faithful in the small things, that one also is not faithful in the large, and is vainglorous. It often happens, that God Himself humbles the vainglorious, sending a sudden misfortune... If prayer does not destroy a proud thought, we bring to mind the leaving of the soul from this life. And if this does not help, we threaten it with the shame of the Last Judgement. "Rising up to humble oneself" even here, before the future age. When praisers, or better – flatterers, start to praise us, immediately we betake ourselves to recollection of all our iniquities and we find, that we are not at all worth that which they impute to us". This and other examples, located in "The Ladder", offer us an image of this saint's zealousness about his own salvation, which is necessary for each person who wishes to live piously. It is a written account of his thought, the collective fruit of many and also of his refined observation from his own soul and his own profound spiritual experience. It reveals itself as a guide and great help on the way to truth and good. The steps of "The Ladder" – this proceeding from strength to strength on the path of man's proclivity to perfection, is not something suddenly but rather gradually to be reached, as in the saying of the Saviour: "The Kingdom of Heaven is taken by strength, and those utilising strength shalt delight of it" (Mt 11: 12).

Saint Eustathios the Confessor, Bishop of Bithynia (9th c)

April 11/March29

Saint Eustathios the Confessor, Bishop of Bithynia, was already at the start of his efforts a fervent monk, meek and wise, filled with great faith and love for neighbour. For his virtuous life he was made bishop of the city of Bithynia (a Roman province in north-west Asia Minor) and for many years he guided his flock, giving them example of virtuous life and perfection. During the time of the Iconoclast heresy, Saint Eustathios boldly came out against the heretics in defending the veneration of holy icons. Iconoclast enemies reported against him to the emperor, and the saint suffered imprisonment and fierce beatings. Finally they deprived the holy Bishop Eustathios of his cathedra and sent him off to prison. The holy confessor died during the IX Century in exile, over the course of three years having undergone insults, deprivation, hunger and want.

John 21:15-25

15 So when they had eaten breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, "Simon, son of Jonah, do you love Me more than these?" He said to Him, "Yes, Lord; You know that I love You." He said to him, "Feed My lambs." 16 He said to him again a second time, "Simon, son of Jonah, do you love Me?" He said to Him, "Yes, Lord; You know that I love You." He said to him, "Tend My sheep." 17 He said to him the third time, "Simon, son of Jonah, do you love Me?" Peter was grieved because He said to him the third time, "Do you love Me?" And he said to Him, "Lord, You know all things; You know that I love You." Jesus said to him, "Feed My sheep. 18 Most assuredly, I say to you, when you were younger, you girded yourself and walked where you wished; but when you are old, you will stretch out your hands, and another will gird you and carry you where you do not wish." 19 This He spoke, signifying by what death he would glorify God. And when He had spoken this, He said to him, "Follow Me." 20 Then Peter, turning around, saw the disciple whom Jesus loved following, who also had leaned on His breast at the supper, and said, "Lord, who is the one who betrays You?" 21 Peter, seeing him, said to Jesus, "But Lord, what about this man?" 22 Jesus said to him, "If I will that he remain till I come, what is that to you? You follow Me." 23 Then this saying went out among the brethren that this disciple would not die. Yet Jesus did not say to him that he would not die, but, "If I will that he remain till I come, what is that to you?" 24 This is the disciple who testifies of these things, and wrote these things; and we know that his testimony is true. 25 And there are also many other things that Jesus did, which if they were written one by one, I suppose that even the world itself could not contain the books that would be written. Amen.

Ephesians 5:9-19 (

9 (for the fruit of the Spirit is in all goodness, righteousness, and truth), 10finding out what is acceptable to the Lord. 11 And have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, but rather expose them. 12 For it is shameful even to speak of those things which are done by them in secret. 13 But all things that are exposed are made manifest by the light, for whatever makes manifest is light. 14 Therefore He says: "Awake, you who sleep, Arise from the dead, And Christ will give you light." 15 See then that you walk circumspectly, not as fools but as wise, 16 redeeming the time, because the days are evil. 17 Therefore do not be unwise, but understand what the will of the Lord is. 18 And do not be drunk with wine, in which is dissipation; but be filled with the Spirit, 19 speaking to one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody in your heart to the Lord,

#orthodoxy #orthodox christianity #ancientchristianity #originofchristianity #spirituality #gospel #holyscripture #wisdom #ascetism

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wonder-cripple · 5 years

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Hey world, stop telling my disabled ass to go to war with itself!

I’ve been disabled all my life, and I can say with absolute certainty that being raised in a society that frames the very idea of disability as something to “be aware of” so that we can “fight against it” has been seriously detrimental to my mental health and sense of self-worth.

Encouraging millions of people to approach the life circumstances of disabled people within such an incredibly ableist paradigm comes with some very disturbing assumptions made about us and expectations set forth of us, arguably the most common of which stipulates that, in order for us to not only actively participate in and contribute to society, but to – God forbid – be happy doing so, WE must “fight”. WE must “overcome”. In essence, society tells us that we must resist our very nature in order to live truly fulfilling lives, because there is apparently no way on God’s green earth that we are “happy AND disabled”, not “happy DESPITE being disabled”.

And yet, curiously, while screaming this message in our befuddled faces, society simultaneously turns its back on us and exploits us. We’re told to “stop making excuses”, “quit faking” and “try harder” one minute, and used as the centerpiece of cringe worthy “inspirational” sob stories the next, because hey, how are you ever going to feel good about yourself if you don’t know that someone “has it worse than you” but is living life anyway, so what’s your excuse, buddy? Right?

So basically, we’re only allowed to be disabled when it somehow benefits the abled population. And even then, society refuses to take responsibility for disabling us by using person-first language and coming up with apologist-sounding terms like “differently abled”, “physically challenged” and “special needs” to excuse the fact that we wouldn’t HAVE needs that are considered “special”, or that you feel you need to make exceptions for, if this world had been designed with disabled people and their various (and varying) needs in mind.

These terms, as unassuming as they seem, are packed with a plethora of disconcerting implications. They tell me, a full-time wheelchair user who encounters a multitude of accessibility issues on an almost daily basis, that the problem is with me. They tell me that my inability to climb stairs, work with the physical manipulatives required for the psychological assessments that I administer, and toilet myself have nothing to do with the fact that the only stairclimbing wheelchair on the market right now sells at the price of a car, or that I will likely only have access to physical testing kits wherever I end up working unless I specifically request (and the place budgets for) digital ones, or that my cerebellum is nonfunctional. Instead, my difficulty completing these tasks exists because I’m lazy. Because I’m melodramatic. Because I don’t try. Because I make excuses. Because I’m supposed to be a fighter. A warrior, effectively fighting against myself, and I’m not fighting hard enough.

This is why I experience crippling anxiety. This is why I say “I’m sorry” so often, I actually annoy and frustrate people. This is why I’m borderline phobic when it comes to asking for help and often don’t, even when I desperately need it. Because awareness is not acceptance. Because people knowing about my disability has never rendered them cognizant of everything that it means, and willing to see it as anything other than a bad thing. A stain on my life.

For too long, that lack of acceptance extended to me and how I viewed my own disability. I pushed it away at every turn and distanced myself from it as much as was possible given its pervasive impact on my life. I did what society told me to and fought it with everything I had. I pretended it didn’t exist.

So what did that look like?

Well, I pissed myself in class in the fifth grade because I really had to pee and was too embarrassed to ask for help. I was so isolated and angry as a teenager that I basically bitched out everyone and lost all my friends, all because I thought my disability and subsequent lack of proficiency in adaptive skills was somehow my fault, and I hated myself for that. And when the time came to assess possible career paths as I was entering college, I convinced myself that I was going to be either a med student or a pharmacist, because what motor skill deficits? I don’t see any!

Perhaps what I am most ashamed of is that for the longest time, I was adamant that, once I figured out what I wanted to do, I wasn’t going to “box myself in” and work exclusively with disabled people, like everyone was suggesting based on my unique perspective. To be honest, that was a possibility that I was not only reluctant to consider, but actively avoiding in my mind.

It is the idea of acceptance that has changed my perception. The realization that fighting my core self is not only exhausting, but unnecessary, was the most liberating, enlightening eureka moment that someone in my position and with my mindset could have experienced. You wanna talk about a handicap? You wanna talk about disabling? Think about how disabling it is to feel like you MUST deny your most defining characteristic, and watch your very soul slowly suffocate under the crushing delusion that, in doing so, you will one day reach an impossible ideal. THAT, to me, is even more disabling than a flight of stairs, because it is a notion that has the capacity to negatively impact every single aspect of a person: mental, physical, emotional, spiritual, you name it. It breaks my heart to know that, if I had been guided towards acceptance as a child instead of consistently being encouraged to “push through” my circumstances, I would now be so much healthier in each of these respects.

Given this, I cannot even begin to expound upon how much it bothers me to see parents of disabled children calling their kids “[insert disability here] warriors”. In doing so, these children are expected to essentially come out of the womb battling themselves and wishing that an integral part of their existence would just disappear. As a disabled person and future psychologist, who once hit the rock bottom that I hope to God these kids won’t get to, I feel that I have a responsibility to advocate for acceptance, both personally and professionally, and I will.

Awareness is good. It’s a start. But it’s only half of the equation, and it’s time to move forward.

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brokasteltranslations · 4 years

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Fate/Requiem: Chapter 4

Several days had passed since I had been relieved of my duties as the Reaper. No more work had come in from my master, Caren Fujimura, since the Kundry case, and I no longer received information on a preferential basis over the municipal network. I had been barred from the critical point where the Akihabara district barrier was located, and my access to Kanda Shrine and Yushima Temple, where multiple ley lines converged, had also been restricted. Stripped of my rank and duties, I was nothing more than another truant – and one dragging a nameless, powerless, useless Servant in tow to boot. A lone wolf not even worth employing as a guard dog.

Fortunately, Akihabara was a prime tourist destination, and as long as I wore my usual swimwear and windbreaker I would more or less blend in with the usual clientele. However, that did nothing to help me feel less out-of-place. Whatever I did, I just felt like running away and hiding in a hole.

I had received no more information on the Command Seal Hunter. It was worrying that the case had not yet been publicly acknowledged. My gut told me that it had not been quietly solved and faded away. It was merely biding its time.

Whispers of the “Woman with the Missing Hand” circulated Shibuya. It had become something of an urban legend among students.

Don't you know better than to cut that out? Keep repeating it and it'll become real, and then who'll have to deal with it? It'll be... actually, I suppose it won't be me. Not any more.

----

As a consequence of my newly-imposed freedom, I had taken to wandering the town aimlessly with Pran on a daily basis. Wherever we went, we found faint traces of Chitose's presence. It crossed my mind more than once to quit Akihabara for one of the other wards.

–

There were many things that seemed to draw Pran's interest, but over time I started to notice a broad pattern. It was live experiences that he seemed to enjoy - street performers, buskers, speed painters and the like were what most often caught his eye.

Thinking back to the episode with Kuchime, I tried taking him along to a shop geared towards those 'otaku'. It was crammed to the rafters with endless figurines of buxom girls, male-oriented toys and all manner of merchandise, to the point where I was almost sick of looking at it. However, none of it particularly seemed to resonate with him.

Maybe it's because they're all manufactured goods. Perhaps it's originality that appeals to him?

He stood by, a little sleepily, gazing into the distance as though squinting into the sun, watching faraway strangers. Only when we passed a shop selling astronomical telescopes did he exhibit a different reaction. He squatted down in front of a poster of the planets – clearly not hand-made – and stayed there for well over a minute.

“Do you know Jupiter?”

“This eye... it follows me.”

“Eye? Oh, you mean the Great Red Spot?”

“This planet's so big. It's so big...”

He shivered, then pulled the goggles resting over his head down over his eyes, and peered at the poster once more.

“A planet, huh? I'm surprised you know that word.” Had he picked it up from when I read The Little Prince to him? He had initially talked about coming from somewhere far away – perhaps he wasn't just making it up? Or maybe... no, was that even possible?

I chose my words carefully. “That's a very old photograph. From before the war. The Great Red Spot on Jupiter isn't there any more. It got smaller and smaller, and then it disappeared.”

He smiled gently at the poster.

“Maybe it went to sleep. I hope someone comes to wake it up.”

–

Before I knew it, the day of the Grail Tournament had arrived. I hadn't exactly been waiting with bated breath, but still I found myself in front of the Colosseum.

The colossal stadium was located on the outskirts of Akihabara, bordering the ocean. Its enormous silhouette threatened to overwhelm the surrounding cityscape. Towering arches, each easily the size of a skyscraper, rose high in three, four levels to form the thick exterior of the cylindrical structure and enclose the arena within.

This was a place of pure competition. The poets once spoke of the ancient Roman emperors giving their people bread and circuses; here was the circus reborn for the modern age, the manifestation of the people's right to entertainment.

–

I had ended up accompanied to the Colosseum by Pran and Karin. Koharu had, to my great chagrin, seen fit to furnish me with not one, not two, but a whole four reserved tickets – two Master-Servant pairs. Technically Servants had no need for tickets – after all, they could just assume their spiritual forms – but no-one willing to come to see the Grail Tournament in person could reasonably be refused a seat, and they were provided in pairs as a matter of course. That being said...

“How long's it been?”

It had been twenty minutes since the stadium had opened, and we were still waiting.

Enormous lines snaked from each and every one of the Colosseum's myriad entrances. At this rate, the tournament would probably have started before we got to our seats. Personally I hardly minded, but it must have bothered Karin, because she suddenly yelled out at the top of her voice.

“All right, fine! Flake out on me, see if I care! We're going in, you hear?”

“You really want to go in? You sure you don't want to wait a bit longer?” I did my best to keep my voice neutral.

“Damn right I'm sure! Never should've invited you anyway, you lousy no-show son of a...”

None of her messages had prompted a response, it seemed.

–

The individual keeping us waiting was the weary-looking guitar player, Kuchime.

Unsure what exactly to do with my four tickets, I had decided to start by offering them to people I knew. Karin herself had snatched the chance with typical zeal, but her partner Kouyou had been reluctant to join us, leaving me with one left over. However, a few days later the two of us had happened to stumble across Kuchime in a side-street in Akihabara, strumming away with his usual gloomy air and being flatly ignored by every passer-by. Karin had called out, probably taking pity on him.

“Hey, Kuchime, was it? Ever thought of checking out the Grail Tournament? Maybe the halftime show'll give you some tips on how not to make your customers run a mile.”

“Ain't got no need for that, little missy. I'm happy as long as I'm getting' through to people with ears to hear.”

“Think you're some kinda auteur, huh? Keep dreaming, idiot. Why don't you just go the whole way and die young while you're at it!”

I had watched blankly as she exploded at him unprovoked. Her tirade had ended with her snatching the ticket from my hands and thrusting it squarely into his unshaven face. Had she done it in a spontaneous surge of pity for this dishevelled musician, or had she been planning it all along? I may have been the Reaper, but even I wasn't so insensitive as to probe any further.

However, in the end, the chance she had taken came to nothing. She stalked towards the arena, fuming. I followed her, leading Pran by the hand.

–

Eventually, we arrived at our designated seats. The interior of the Colosseum was spacious, tall, and delightfully modern.

I now understood why the queues today had been particularly bad: the staff were conducting unusually extensive baggage checks and body searches on all attendees. I had even seen staff members flagging down particular individuals for Command Seal checks, and it was hard not to notice the guns at the hips of a number of security personnel dotted around the stadium.

I'm glad they didn't try to check my Command Seals. Maybe the reservations got us through...

In any case, it was gratifying to see that my warning to Hannibal hadn't gone unheeded. Although there was always the possibility that the organisers had gotten wind of the serial killings themselves, and acted of their own accord.

“Yo! Sorry we took so long.” Karin reappeared with Pran in tow. Both of their arms were piles high with soft drinks, packets of peanuts and other junk food. She tossed me a freshly-grilled hot dog.

“So this is the bread part, huh? Shouldn't be long until the circu- Yeowch! Aah! My tongue!”

“Circus? You mean the halftime show, right? Oh yeah, there was a stall selling some kinda porridge too if you want some. I tapped out though, seemed pretty weird.”

“Porridge, huh? How odd... Hey, who gave you those?!”

I suddenly registered Pran was decked from head to toe in tournament merchandise, complete with a little paper cap and a megaphone. He was ready for the show.

I couldn't stop myself from bursting out laughing, and soon both me and Karin were clutching our sides. She was so engrossed in the tournament now that it was hard to imagine she had been furious not twenty minutes ago. I could probably learn a lot from how quickly she rebounded.

Next to our seats on the very front row was a space to be kept open in case of emergencies. Fortunately, it was just large enough for Kouyou to squeeze in. Accommodating larger Servants was probably half of the reason it was there.

–

After a minute or so, the music playing throughout the stadium increased in volume and a rousing melody began to play. It seemed we'd timed our arrival perfectly.

The music faded away, and for a moment, the entire arena fell silent. Then, as if on cue, a voice rang out across the stadium. Below us, eldritch lights began to dance across the very front row where the patricii would have sat in the original Colosseum. A diminutive figure strode down to the aisle, and unfurled a pair of feathered wings. At the same time, the main screen cut to a close-up of a girl - a woman? - dressed in a plain white Grecian tunic.

“Good evening, my lovely little piglets!” Her greeting echoed around the Colosseum at amplified volume. “Welcome, one and all, to the ocean stage of the Grail Tournament! That's right! We're all setting sail for Okeanos, and I, the great witch Circe, will be your guide!”

She stoked the crowd's excitement, and they answered with a deafening roar… although I did pick up some rather crude jeers mixed in with the cheering.

“Thank you, thank you, my little piglets! I love you too! Now, before we meet all our brave warriors, I'd like to introduce our commentary team!”

Two burly men strode down the aisle to join her, waving to the audience.

“First, for the Ottoman Corsairs, we have a scallywag among scallywags! The Gentleman of the Caribbean! The one and only Blackbeard, Edward Teach!”

“That's me!” Blackbeard was greeted by deafening boos. He did not seem to care a jot.

“Sounds like you know him well! Let's move swiftly on!”

“Wait, that's all I get?!”

“Next, for the Carthaginian Alliance, we have the king of admirals! The man who saved the Roman Empire from the Ptolemaic Dynasty! Friend and advisor to Emperor Augustus, I give you Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa!”

Agrippa! The commander who led the Romans to victory at the Battle of Actium!

I expected him to bask in the applause of the crowd, but instead he rounded on the emcee.

“What is this? I never agreed to this! First you invite me to attend nigh on midnight last night, and now you expect me to commentate?! Explain yourself!”

“About that... Honestly, we wanted Eukleides of Alexandria, but he cancelled at the last moment. What are Foreigners like, right?”

“Some nerve on you, girl! You expect a general of Rome to commentate on the Carthaginians? And you! Yes, you, the Servant with the easel! You think capturing my face is funny, do you?!”

The sight of the irate Agrippa slowly being talked down by the witch emcee, and eventually taking a reluctant seat at the commentator's desk, drew no small amount of laughter from the audience.

“All right, everyone, make sure you have your channels all set to your favourite team! If you're feeling peckish, why not try some delicious kykeon?”

–

“Well, that sure was something.”

Karin was grinning next to me. I, for my part, was aghast. This was grotesque, a vulgar display that made a mockery of Servants' pride and nobility. It was difficult to tell how much was real and how much was acted, but the tastelessness of the ambiguity only made me feel more disgusted. The tournament itself hadn't even begun yet, and I had a feeling it was only going to get worse.

I guess the least I can do is watch it through. I probably won't be getting another chance.

My reasons for being here were twofold. Firstly, I wanted to see what I could learn about Koharu's mysterious Possession ability. I had also been deeply impressed by the way that, despite being aware of her naivety, she disapproved wholeheartedly of any wrongdoing, and the evident admiration with which she viewed her companions.

My second reason was that I wanted to see for myself the incredible power that Servants were permitted to wield here. I felt both awe and terror for Noble Phantasms. It was baffling to me that abilities so destructive might be allowed to be used freely.

The citizens of Mosaic City were different to Masters in the true sense. They were no magi, with magic circuits passed down from previous generations or developed through special training, and it went without saying that none of them possessed a Magic Crest. The mana that powered their magecraft originated from the Holy Grail, and was distributed throughout the city via ley-lines. This mana was more than enough to sustain a Servant in everyday life with no discomfort. However Noble Phantasms, which employed magecraft on a much larger scale and consumed vast amounts of mana, were another matter entirely. Activating them was highly challenging, and they could kill a Master unless attempted with extreme care.

Broadly speaking, the most common foes I encountered in my work were Masters who fought with little regard for their own lives, because they had found something they valued more.

Had the combatants in this Colosseum all reined their latent magical abilities to extraordinary levels? Or had the footage I had seen simply been enhanced in some way after the fact? I had come to determine the truth.

“Oh, there you are, Kouyou.”

In the formerly empty space in the midst of the cheering crowd, the enormous bulk of the Ogress had appeared. She sat with her belly pressed to the ground, trying to make herself as small as possible. Occasionally her eyes glanced sideways to meet with Pran's.

–

Feeling a little relieved, I turned back to the arena. The battlefield was enormous: a huge rectangular arena, two hundred metres on the larger side. Above each of the spectator seats floated semi-transparent screens that provided a closer view of the action.

Finally, the battlefield began to change. Cracks ran across the centre, and the stage began to fold in on itself with mechanical precision, forming a deep, wide basin. Water swirled in to fill it, and rocks rose from beneath its surface to form a maze of crags in the open water. Two galleys burst from the canals at either side of the stage, defying the current. They hung in the air for a second, like salmon poised mid-leap above a waterfall, and then crashed down into the water below with a mighty splash. A host of smaller boats and schooners followed them out, and quickly organised themselves into two fleets.

There was no magic in this, only the most cutting-edge stage equipment... although perhaps it was best not to think about the enormous, ominous shadow circling beneath the water's surface.

–

“Now, my little piglets, I think we've kept you waiting long enough! Let's get this naumachia started! We know you're tired of the same-old same-old, so this year we thought we'd change things up a little with a large-scale team-on-team battle! Which of our brave teams in Akihabara today will be crowned the conquerors of the high seas?

“First, we have the Ottoman Corsairs! For these terrors of the Mediterranean Sea, this man once more takes up the rank of Pasha! Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the great pirate of Barbary, the Redbeard, Heyreddin Barbarossa!

“And that's not all! Next we have his second-in-command! There's not a man west of Austria who doesn't know his name: the Grand Master of the Knights Templar, Jacques de Molay!”

The witch introduced each of the competitors one by one, stoking the crowd's excitement. Illustrious admirals and infamous pirates lined up upon the deck.

“And now, last but not least, someone you know very well! The mightiest commander of the navies of the far east - can you say “Hassou-tobi”? Our favourite natural-born Heike-killer, Minamoto Kurou Yoshitsune!

“Could this samurai be the most dangerous competitor on the field today? I'm sure the other side won't be showing much quarter, so look forward to some spectacular acrobatics!”

–

The pretty young warrior looked a little uncomfortable in responding to chants of “Ushiwaka!”, but eventually gave in and began to wave to the crowd. The sight broke me from my trance, and a young girl standing nearby caught my attention; she hadn't been introduced.

Could that be Yoshitsune's Master?

She was dressed in elegant traditional Japanese robes and heavy facial makeup, matching Yoshitsune, but she herself appeared to be nothing more than an ordinary citizen. Behind or beside the other Servants stood similar unassuming figures. More than a couple of them were wearing masks that obscured their faces.

Eventually, the oriental arrangement of Mozart's Turkish March playing throughout the Colosseum drew to a close, and was replaced with an unsettling, savage, African-style drumbeat. The Grail Tournament was as tasteless as ever.

–

“Now swivel your heads the other way, my adorable piglets! Little corkscrew tails to the east, and snouts to the west! Please give it up for the mighty heroes of the Carthaginian Alliance!

“Cast your eyes upon Rome's worst nightmare! At his back, the souls of three war elephants with whom he crossed the Pyrenees and the Alps! Ladies and gentlemen, the Lightning Commander, Hannibal Barca!”

The sight of Hannibal, cross-armed on the deck in traditional battle garments, was so wildly different from the garrulous old tourist I had met in Cafe Borges that I could hardly believe it was the same man. The mighty cheer from the crowd put not so much as a crack in his stern expression, and he harboured a menacing aura.

“And not to be outdone, his second-in-command: The Firebrand of Castile, El Cid!”

The witch continued with her introductions, each one punctuated with thunderous applause. I tuned them out. My attention was absorbed by a small figure on the deck, with a white coat draped across her shoulders. I followed her with my augmented vision as she stared keenly into the enemy ranks.

He stood a short distance behind her, head askew, hands on his hips. He seemed devoid of tension, as though this were nothing more than a routine warmup.

“And taking up the rearguard is someone I'm sure you all remember! None other than the warrior who took the Newbie Tournament by storm! Our proud Knight of the Round Table, Sir Galahad!”

–

With the introductions concluded, the galleys began to slip forwards, and each team assembled into their respective formations. Karin rapped on my knee with her megaphone, unable to conceal her excitement.

“I told you it was gonna be awesome! Dunno much about the pirates, but even I know Yoshitsune!”

“You expecting me to be impressed or something? You could hardly call yourself Japanese if you didn’t.”

I could not imagine it would be easy for this collection of pirates, outlaws to the bone that they were, to assimilate cleanly into everyday life in Mosaic City - although, of course, there were exceptions. Perhaps it was for the best that there was a place for them here, where they could put their talents to use while also entertaining the populace. However...

“I know it's just a mock battle, but don't you think this seems really one-sided? The Ottomans are obviously better at sea. Hannibal's famous for his war elephants, but he can't even use them on the water.”

“Haven't been reading up, eh Eri? Here's a flyer for you. See? Says right here the field will change halfway through, and turn into a land battle. There's your Carthaginian advantage.”

“Ah. I get it.” This was never supposed to be a fair battle, but a dramatic turnaround against overwhelming odds. The perfect script to drive the audience wild. I myself had to confess, I was looking forward to seeing Yoshitsune and Galahad face off – so much so that a part of me wished this were a real Holy Grail War.

“Yeah. Now I see.” I gazed around at the nearby spectators with dawning realisation. I felt as though I'd grown a little closer to understanding how these competitors could wield such extraordinary power, and the system that supported them in doing so.

----

“Eh?”

The back of my neck prickled. Someone, somewhere, was watching me.

I slid my gaze slowly around myself, careful not to let my reaction be noticed, but my stalker was impossible to discern through the interference of the crowd around me.

I'm being watched. No doubt about it. There's something else, too. A familiar, maybe?

The Borgia siblings' warning came to mind. Someone I'd previously crossed, out for revenge. As I looked around warily, hoping to forestall some impending attack, I noticed something strange: dotted throughout the crowd were spectators standing motionless, seemingly blind to the excitement around them.

Victims of the Command Seal Hunter? No, that doesn't seem right...

I focused, filtering out the auditory noise, following the sense of wrongness back to its source... and happened to catch a snippet of conversation from the row in front.

“You serious? A fire in Shinjuku?”

“Where? Tsunohazu? Kashiwagi?”

“Seems like it's around Hanazono way.”

Hanazono?

My old house was in Hanazono. Which was to say, Chitose's house was in Hanazono. I leaned forward a little, and stared at the woman in front's phone from over her shoulder.

“Eri, the hell are you doing?”

On the screen was a video someone had uploaded to the municipal network.

“What on earth...?”

A video of a building on fire. In real time.

A row of old wooden houses in Shinjuku wreathed in smoke. A human figure appeared from the billowing grey curtain, aflame from head to toe. However, they did not run or drop to the ground, but continued calmly into the next building, and even as their blood boiled and their skin charred with the flames' caress, began to feed the flames.

The video cut short - interrupted by a new upload of a public train brought to a standstill, flames licking at its roof.

As I watched, a buzz of concern began to spread throughout the crowd. It was hardly surprising; there were probably no small number of spectators here from Shinjuku. I turned around to see that Karin, too, was transfixed by her phone.

“What's wrong?”

“They say there's been some kinda 'pedestrian accident' in front of Shibuya station. A tram derailed and went across the cross... Oh. Ew. I'm not looking at that. Trains are stopped too. The hell's going on?”

Simultaneous incidents, all across Mosaic City.

“Ugh...”

I gripped my arm as a dull pain blossomed inside it. The stench of death was agitating the spirits. Black blood oozed out from beneath my hand, as their ire turned on my own body.

Just when I thought I'd gotten them under control...

This arena was no longer a place I should be. I was the greatest threat here, to the tens of thousands of spectators present and the partners by their sides. Right now, these simultaneous incidents concerned me.

Security here was tight, and more to the point, greater warriors than I could ever hope to be now thronged the main stage. This was perhaps the safest place in all of Mosaic City. My place was not here – as much as I had wanted to see Koharu fight, I no longer had time to worry about that.

“Eri, wait.”

Karin must have guessed my intentions as soon as I stood up.

“You're going? Just like that? Without me, again?”

“Sorry. I know I invited you out here and everything, but... there's something I need you to do.”

“What is it?”

I stared back at Karin for a moment, then looked down to the boy by her side.

“Kouyou, do you think you could take care of Pran?”

The ogress looked to Karin questioningly, then gave a slow nod.

“Consider it done. Just leave it to us, Eri.” Karin flashed her newly-recovered Command Seals, alongside an irrepressible grin. Just as I made to leave, Karin's phone buzzed with a notification, and she pulled it out.

“Who's texting people at this kinda time?”

She checked the screen and sighed.

“It's that Kuchime asshole. He says “Sorry.””

“That's all?”

“That's all.” She smiled, resignedly and a little sadly.

----

I left the seats behind and made my way to the outer hall. While still indoors, this was an airy, open space, with high arches modelled meticulously after Roman architecture. It extended far away in both directions, curving gently to match the shape of the arena. Shops lined the outer wall, still milling with a fair number of late customers. Here and there people clustered around screens outside the storefronts, drinking as they watched the matches unfold.

What's even the point of coming here?, I thought. You could be doing that at home!

–

As I hurried towards the exit, I organised the idea I'd hit upon earlier in my head: to whit, that the competitors in the Holy Grail Tournament were taking their mana from the crowd itself. Tens of thousands of pseudo-magi, all pouring mana into the Servants doing battle below. That was my hypothesis.

This Colosseum was not a post-war addition to Akihabara. It had been a part of this town since long before the world was restructured, and it was far too large an anomaly to be permitted to exist without a reason. And in ancient Rome, the battles that took place in the colosseums had been sacred acts; offerings made to the gods.

Heroic Spirits take on all of our thoughts, hopes and dreams. They draw power from them.

The greater the mark a Servant had left upon history, and the more fame they had earned, the more power they drew. Such was their nature – and as an unintended and tragic consequence, Servants were occasionally summoned with the strange and cruel skill, “Innocent Monster”.

How much of this do the Riedenflaus family realise, I wonder?

I couldn't help but wonder just to what extent thaumaturgical systems might be entwined with the structure of the Colosseum itself.

An unexpected voice called me to a halt.

“Erice, we need to talk. It's important.”

It was the first time I had seen Ms. Fujimura in several days. I wheeled around to find her standing in the dimly-lit outer hall, dressed like a librarian as always.

Why is she here? What could she possibly want to talk about?

I strode towards her, with the intention of grilling her on the events in Shibuya and Shinjuku.

As I opened my mouth, I heard an odd sound from the broadcast. As the camera focused on the Carthaginian flagship, the witch performing the commentary had yelped in shock. I spun around to look. Ms. Fujimura, too, focused on the screen.

What I saw defied comprehension.

Regardless of the fact that the enemy was still distant, Hannibal, the Carthaginian commander, whipped his blade from the sheath at his belt, and without a moment's hesitation thrust it deep into the chest of his second-in-command, El Cid.

“Gah!”

El Cid's face froze in an expression of disbelief. His Master rounded on Hannibal in his confusion. The Carthaginian pulled his bloodstained sword from his ally's chest, and without a care for the man's protests, swung his sword crosswise in a vicious slash.

Both El Cid and his master collapsed. Two heads flew from the boat, to splash down unceremoniously into the artificial sea.

#Fate/Requiem #Fate #translation #light novel

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letterboxd · 3 years

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Deep End.

The filmmakers behind heart-shattering Netflix hit Pieces of a Woman give Ella Kemp a glimpse into the mechanics of their most talked-about scene, the physicality of grief and the magic smell of apples.

When Martin Scorsese first watched Pieces of a Woman, he described it as more of an experience than a movie. It’s hard to disagree: the film’s visceral 22-minute opening scene, a one-take shot of Vanessa Kirby’s character Martha giving birth, quietly knocks the wind out of you.

Made by husband and wife Kornél Mundruczó (on directing duties) and Kata Wéber (on script), Pieces of a Woman offers unrelenting emotion as Martha processes an unspeakable loss and tries to piece herself back together. Kirby is impossibly good: raw and aching, unpredictable and tender all at once.

Following the recent allegations of sexual and domestic violence against her co-star Shia LaBeouf from his former romantic partner FKA Twigs, fraught scenes between the pair—LaBeouf plays Martha’s partner, Sean—are supremely difficult to watch. Netflix has since removed all mentions of LaBeouf from their website and awards campaigns, and a legal case is ongoing. Cast members worthy of mention include Oscar winner Ellen Burstyn as Martha’s mother, Elizabeth, comedian Iliza Shlesinger as her sister, Anita, and Uncut Gems director Benny Safdie as her brother-in-law.

Kornél Mundruczó and Vanessa Kirby on the set of ‘Pieces of a Woman’.

I wonder what it must be like to see Pieces of a Woman on the big screen, or on the stage for that matter (it began life as a play, also written by Wéber and directed by Mundruczó, who are well-known in their native Hungary for their theatrical and film work). The film premiered, miraculously, at the 2020 Venice International Film Festival, where Kirby won the award for Best Actress. Subsequent screenings at the Toronto International Film Festival (where it was one of our top picks) took place virtually, and now with a Netflix release and yet more pandemic-enforced lockdowns around the world, few cinemas will be projecting this volcanic drama.

Still, Pieces of a Woman envelops you in Martha’s headspace wherever you’re watching. There is hope that by finding it on Netflix, the film will reach a broad, worldwide audience, who will see themselves in the love and loss that propels the film, and recognize the hope and heartbreak of their own lives.

Why did you start the film with a shot of Sean, not Martha? Kornél Mundruczó: It was important to start on the bridge with Sean, as we later finish on the bridge with Martha. It creates a sense of curiosity and suspense. Who is Martha? And I love the sentence there that Sean says when he goes, “Martha is always fine”.

Kata Wéber: I really wanted to start with that line in the script, because then you’ll see that Martha isn’t actually always fine. It’s asking what she has to live up to, the picture of perfect Martha. Later on, you understand why it’s so important what she has to go through.

Iliza Shlesinger, Ellen Burstyn and Sarah Snook in ‘Pieces of a Woman’.

Martha has to go through so much in that incredible 22-minute take of her giving birth. How did that scene come to be, and which of you came up with the idea first? KM: It was my idea, but it was not a quick idea. When you read 35 pages about birth—an experience which is amazingly personal and shows a variety of emotions—you wonder how you can do that. The main thing was wondering about using a handheld camera because it gives a lot of opportunity, but at the same time I found it to be too personal, and it’s very much like dogma filmmaking. And then a distant camera felt too manipulative and cold, so we found a tool called a gimbal, which is not really a filmmaking tool. It’s used more for sports and music videos. But we felt it was very spiritual, which helped us represent the spirit which needed to be there. Like an unseen spirit, which is always inside births.

I have real problems with cutting, and telling the time of a fourteen-hour story. It didn’t feel like the right choice, because we’re not a documentary, but it didn’t feel like you had Martha’s physical presence if you were cutting it. So, how could we grow her physical presence? So we expanded the film time, and we compressed into that expanded film time a compressed real time. And then it works. It felt like a manifesto for me, like a monolith. It represents Martha’s inner journey but also every single person can feel connected to that. It was a long research process to find the perfect form, but then we shot it on the first day.

Was there anything you were worried about for the viewer, when deciding to begin the film with that scene? KM: I decided to start the film with that scene because I was worried about the whole movie! I felt that you can’t play it without this kind of experience. I never really felt that I wanted to do a movie, I was trying to say without words that I wanted to create more of an experience, an emotional journey. And later, when Martin Scorsese became a producer, he was the one who called me after watching it for the first time and said, “This is not a movie, it’s an experience”. I’d never named it before then, but had always wanted to do that. So it was important to just jump into the deepest point of the emotional journey.

Vanessa Kirby as Martha in ‘Pieces of a Woman’.

Vanessa Kirby has said the film responds to the fact that we’re so used to seeing death in cinema, and yet we capture birth on film so little. Was that something you were conscious about when making the film, or was your story always more personal? KW: Because it was first a play, there was already the question about how you’d do a birth scene on stage, which is even trickier than on film. But if you don’t do it, the whole story doesn’t make sense because you don’t establish this loving relationship—not just within the couple, but towards the baby. So I really wanted to stand for this scene. I wrote it long, because when you give birth there is this huge beauty and grace and love, and a certain kind of horror too. It’s uncontrolled and so spiritual.

KM: When I read the script it was shockingly personal, but also I thought that this really isn’t an academic movie. The structure is very special, it’s really not a dogmatic arthouse approach, which I did quite a few of! It’s not commercial either, so we thought, what is this? I didn’t know, but knew that I wanted to tell this story. Am I able to create a birth scene, which is kind of a taboo? Am I able to create a very emotional movie in a realistic sense? Which also feels like a form of taboo. I like the experience of exploring new fields and giving an audience something that is not just a movie.

What were your different reference points for Martha’s different chapters in the film? Her journey is so unconventional and Vanessa’s performance feels like it taps into so many different emotions. KW: It’s about the inner journey of someone, so you want to make sure she knows all the aspects of this state of mind. We talked about bereavement processes where grief doesn’t go through the typical five stages, but it’s just stuck somewhere. What is grieving? If you talk to a psychiatrist they could often say that there is no recipe. It could be you waking up at four in the morning wanting to bake a cake. That’s grieving. We tried to establish it as authentic as possible.

KM: There’s a hundred layers to Martha. Even in the birth, there’s thirty stages that she has to go through.

KW: And she had to understand how physical it is. Giving birth is so physical, but also grieving is not intellectual. You cannot figure out how to do it.

KM: It’s also our personal experience, as we had a miscarriage. But when I read the script, I still didn’t know grief was so physical. It’s such a special perspective, because if you are not in it, you have the pain but you don’t have this kind of physical longing. That’s why we talked to Vanessa so much about her silence and her body as being way more important than any acting skills. The most important thing was to feel it. In her nail polish, her body language, her walking, how she smokes. That was so much more important for me as a director than the big speech. And of course the big speech matters, but all the other details are the character.

I want to talk about the significance of the apples. Martha says it’s the way baby Yvette smells when she was born, and there’s a lot of symbolism in the idea of a growing seed. But does that fruit in particular have any significance for you? KW: I was trying to find something expressing her longing and love to her baby. I didn’t know what it could be at first, but when my baby was born, she smelled like an apple and it was so surprising. It’s so weird and beautiful and nice, and I’ll never forget it. It’s so hard to express the inner journey and the longing and the love without words—I really wanted to try and convey that.

Benny Safdie as Chris in ‘Pieces of a Woman’.

What do you think Letterboxd members should watch after Pieces of a Woman? KM: I’m a fan of early Michelangelo Antonioni movies, like Red Desert or La Notte. I think those intellectual melodramas are very healing.

What is a film that always breaks your heart? KM: Ali: Fear Eats the Soul, by Rainer Werner Fassbinder.

KW: A Woman Under the Influence for me. It’s close to something we’re trying to understand here.

And what about when you want to piece it back together? KM: For me it’s Late Spring by Yasujirō Ozu.

KW: I was just thinking the same! Someone peels an apple in that movie…

Finally, what films made you want to be filmmakers? KM: I grew up in the Soviet area watching a lot of movies in my childhood by Elem Klimov, Aleksey German, Andrei Tarkovsky. These movies are socially reflective but also very emotional and spiritual, very transcendental. And those transcendental acts feel almost forgotten now, and that’s a bit painful. Even contemporary Russian movies are not so deeply transcendental. The images from those movies really stayed with me—I mean, I’m from the East!

KW: For me it’s The Graduate. It’s just so much about life. It’s funny and witty, I just love it. I could watch it 100 times and I would never get bored.

Related content

Written by Women: Aobh’s extensive list of scripts penned by women

Andrew Sztehlo’s extensive list of Hungarian Cinema

Awards Season 2020-2021: Letterboxd’s annual list tracking the major feature and documentary winners

Follow Ella on Letterboxd

‘Pieces of a Woman’ is now on Netflix.

#pieces of a woman #letterboxd #Vanessa kirby #Iliza shlesinger #benny safdie #Martin scorsese #kata weber #kornel mundruczo #Hungarian cinema #tiff2020 #venice2020 #venice film festival #ellen burstyn #netflix #Netflix film #Netflix original

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bigruntheory · 3 years

Text

“To everything I’ve ever lost, thank you for setting me free.”

This event happened in Tony William's backyard, Mount Victoria, NSW. Fri 27- Sun 29 November 2020.

This report will swing from serious to joking, but will at all times be genuine with the best intentions; you will just have to try your best to navigate the subtle or dramatic changes for yourself, bearing that in mind.

This report is a true (made up on the spot then heavily edited) account of events I experienced within the beating heart of endurance running, the true spiritual home of ultra, the best concept to emerge in running since putting one foot in front of the other: A Last One Standing Endurance Race. (LOSER)

The Blue Goat Backyard LOSER is a little shorter than the official distance of 6.7 something kms, at just 5.23km a lap, but what it falls short of in distance, it more than makes up for in rugged, uneven, highly technical terrain- which pretty much makes it Australia’s toughest LOS event.

Whatever its comparable status, agreed or not, or however you approach it personally, it’s definitely an authentically challenging, scenic course, held within a supportive, fun, party atmosphere:

The buzz at the Blue Goat & Fatboy Slim’s Big Beach Boutique II -

equally awesome & hazy in my mind- and I was at both.

These LOS events will work for anyone who enjoys to run. The Blue Goat Backyard will work for anyone who enjoys to run challenging trails. And if you don’t like running or trails or a challenge, then they will suit anyone who likes to party while other people do. So they’re great events for everyone.

The LOS format will especially suit you if you are on a path to self-discovery, self-transcendence or to just see how far you can personally go and run for, in one go. You might be surprised to find that in just turning up to have a go, you discover new things about running, runners & yourself.

LOS event vibes & hubs will differ somewhat in style, and you can expect them to be as diverse and unique as their hosts- they should all provide a brilliant gateway for some amazing personal journeys in running & in life. This one delivered.

The LOS format, and specifically the way that AAA racing & BMF organise events, means ANYONE of any ability, can come and enjoy the experience of their running lifetime, seeing how far they can go, or set a target of laps or distance and create a PB in a unique, supportive, safe and fun setting.

When I say party and fun, I mean it. They had the most amazing Britpop and other timeless classics (Creedence/Stones/Beatle’s) blasting out the speaker all day and night; there was also a Robbie Williams song in there.....

Training and attitude will only take you so far- a lairy shirt must do the rest.

In spite of the bushfires & the pandemic, this event still happened, as seen & predicted by me, which in part is why I felt so deeply that I had to be there. You can’t escape your destiny, really, so you had better make it double awesome when it arrives.

After last years event ,which slipped under my radar for some reason, Tony’s backyard pretty much got burned to the ground in bushfires which massively damaged the whole Blue Mountains & Hawkesbury areas. There were also floods, which actually helped stop some of the fires but which bought their own destruction. This all happened during the end of 2019 and early 2020, after which everything went tits up, particularly for gyms, trainers & organised racing- due to the reaction to the COVID 19 bullshit pandemic.

Fun on one of the Blue Goat Bees, earlier in the year.

Getting involved behind the scene for this years event was great fun. Seeing it transform gradually until the race day was awesome, it went from burnt sticks, charcoal and indistinguishable trails to looking like a nature trail again by race day. It still has a way to go, but it’ll get there; it’s still a beautiful course which i parts feels like you are in the Grand Canyon at Blackheath, or the Grose valley, which are only just down the road.

If I’m correct, I don’t think anyone really thought this event was gonna be on, due to the COVID, but I had no doubt at all… . I knew I had to be there helping out and I knew I had to be there on that starting line and knew I was definitely going there to be the last one standing. This is not to say that it was time to put my feet up and just waltz in there like it was easy and in the bag - far from it. I trained hard. Really hard.

So call me mystic Steve if you like, but months prior to the event I bought a ticket and started manifesting, which is a pretty simple & powerful practice, not to be underestimated at all….it’s very much like goal setting to be honest, except there is a spiritual dimension and much that you can’t explain or prove scientifically. It works very well with the art of training your body mind & spirit for tough challenges and healing, too, which really go hand in hand. You basically write your story then walk into it.

Law of attraction/ manifestation.

This write up will cover some matters of running & strategy but mostly matters of the mind, heart & spirit. I present this to the world in genuine gratitude for the experience and I hope that it inspires others to be on that starting corral of an LOS event, wherever that may be, whatever your age, ability or experience.

How does it all work, this LOS?

Every hour on the hour, you have to be ready in the starting corral to go and run your lap, then back in time to do whatever you need to do-put your feet up, go to the loo, refuel or maybe have a banana & dance like no one is watching you- or in my case, like you are Bez from the Happy Mondays - whatever you do, however you roll, you have to be back in the staring corral to go do just one more lap, again. It’s really as simple as that. One loop, one hour, make of it what you will and what you can; bring out your soul & enjoy!

Should you do just one lap, you might find yourself in the position of saying, well why not see if I can do just one more? And so it goes…

These events are happening now, they are quite new & fresh and trust me, they will stand the test of time, because as I keep saying, there’s nothing conceptually better than the Last One Standing Format - it really is the Rock n Roll of endurance running & every event that happens has been a living testimony to that in one way or another.

Even during a global pandemic, nothing could hold the LOS back; in fact it just got stronger & rose to another level. While other events we imploding, postponing, being moved virtually and seeing reductions in numbers and interest, the annual Big Dog’s Backyard Ultra, usually in Tennessee, went ahead, on a satellite basis, across the world, live on the internet, and made history with record breaking performances & a once in a lifetime twist to the team dynamic; a twist so good, and a global audience buzz so great, that even the satellite event format will definitely go forward in some form or other into 2021 and beyond…..so many benefits to keeping things local and compet8ing more widely.....

The Australian Team sporting their AURA gear ready to take on the world.

Each country put a team together, which lifted the LOS format into another dimension. Instead of competing against your own team mates & globally in Tennessee, each country had their own teams on their own loops, competing against other teams. So in effect, this bought teams together and made the connection between the assist & the Last One Standing less of a battle of breaking the other down and more of a battle of building the other up, supporting them and remaining strong for the team. How good is that to see in competitive endurance running!?

Clint Eastwood, still cool after all these years.

I fell in love with the LOS format when I watched the Clint Eastwood Last One Standing, hosted by AAA Racing in Oxley Park Queensland and it was great to watch many of the same familiar faces, with the same party atmosphere, running together and taking on the world at the World Champs. Massive, genuine kudos to the whole team from the Clint Eastwood & The Big Dog satellite event, all runners and behind the scenes – and Sam Penny needs special mention for the GoPro awesomeness, without which I may never have had that fly on the wall buzz of being at the event.

So, runners of all ages and abilities, whatever your goal, this is your opportunity to get up and at it & be part of something life-changing, challenging & massively fun, one short lap at a time.

Don’t go thinking you have to be superman, genetically gifted or even an ultrarunner or even a ‘runner’ Basically just ditch any thought or label that creates doubt or fear or holds you back and simply get up and go for it. You just need to be willing to turn up and have a go & enjoy the experience.

“Anyone can do anything” Tony Williams, Blue Mountains Fitness.

So, there was this running race my running mates told me about & I can’t remember when I made the decision to be there but it was also around the time a running mate was talking about helping out building trails and tracks and I know this must sound vague and I’m probably getting my wires crossed but I somehow put these two ideas together & they gave birth to the idea that I needed to be at the Blue Goat Backyard. And that’s how it all began….

Thanks to Tony & Alun – the whole BMF & AAA Racing collective , Fabiano & Sean for being on hand to help and support and look after us through the night and day and Keith for the awesome photos- popping up all over the course to catch candid snaps- all the sponsors, too. T8 for the awesome shorts and underpants, Papadino’s for the Pizzas & the prize voucher even made peace with Tailwind and had a recoverite after the event.

Thanks to all the people I met and worked with on the several bees & for all the care, imagination & spirit that put energy into making this happen- the whole event- not just the LOS; all the work that goes into delivering a vision into reality, planting the seed & helping it grow.

Hawkesbury Trail Runners

Massive shout out to the Hawkesbury Trail Runners! So glad you all came to support the event you fell in love with last year before a period of tragedy hit the area and awesome to see you at the event (well, sort of -in the heat of the moment and the day, socialising was very short lived due to needing to cool down, fuel up and get back out; and after the event, I puked up & conked out!) Managed to wave and mumble to a few of you and had a chat with regular run buddies Mike & Vicki.

You all did so well, especially in that fierce heat and I’m quite fond of the memories of just blurting random stuff out in the zone- the Britpop running the event of your lifetime zone….

Congrats to Jackie and Claudio in their runs, had a brief chat with Jackie in the fierce heat....also to Matt & Jen from Plus Fitness running the marathon and half respectively on a tough course in tough conditions.

All any of us really need to do is turn up and make the most of it, and that’s exactly what everyone did; and that’s how a great event works, really, so let’s all do it again next year! Mystic Steve predict big things happening in the Blue Goat Backyard for 2021…..!

Whilst I was busy running and didn’t get to join in the party for too long & during the later phases and the high heat was stumbling around like a bull in a china shop, it was huge fun singing, dancing &, running all night and day. The energy I drew from Britpop was out of this world! I’ve never sung & danced at an Ultra or race before to my knowledge. It just got better with every lap!

Massive thanks for all the runners I had a chitchat with and shared a song joke or story with, however mish mash it all was, it was great fun all night and day - and apologies for the audible fart and swearing- it was quite challenging keeping this under the radar at times.

Everyone who stepped up to that course was a winner whatever the goal, distance or outcome. Sorry if I missed you on the day, or if I didn't miss you but wasn't making much sense in the delirium of hot endurance. Here’s some awesome photos:

Rob heads up to the Corral.

It is said, when you blow this horn, Beer & Pizza arrives

The drone, sounds like a swarm of bees.

In all the excitement I forgot to get a t shirt.

Got some awesome car stickers though and part of a Goat’s skull.

When I’m in the zone I often adopt a different persona and mindset- I’m not the same often reserved introvert as when you see me under normal conditions; I guess the animated extroversion gets magnified , as you’d expect from anyone giving the performance of their life up on stage.

There are moments of surrender, where I’m in total alignment with higher self, emitting my frequency with a genuine smile & peace into the world and that is where the practice creates the art.....

Endurance running is all about finding your inner peace, well, sort of....

I think Alun’s singing Tom Jones here- I’ve zoned out to Oasis classics

I missed the presentation- seems to be a trend of mine (happened after the Hounslow Double when, after accidentally busting in on the elite presentation, did I mention bull in china shop already? I went and nodded off in the car!) That was the inaugural year when Tony took out the first place in the Double by a long, long way.

After it was all over, I puked up then momentarily imploded and had a lie down.

Deep relaxation is really good for you.

The medics gave me ice packs and aimed a big fan on me (was really nice to have a fan at one of my races, actually, i could get used to that) They took good care of me, so thank you for the care and the cups of tea and water I recall there were two of you and you were lovely. I had a power snooze for a couple of minutes, which I think actually lasted a couple of hours, and I cooled down, which brought me back to life.

Before this, I fondly recall running up to the corral giving the goats a wave the final time and being greeted by everyone going wild.

Hello gorgeous.

I blurted out a speech, that I know would've made total sense to everyone if it actually left my lips the way it was written by my heart- the former not sure, the latter no doubts. Basically gratitude, peace & love, keep going, never give up and things will get better- as in running so in life. ❤️

In spite of it being the hottest day of the year so far and genuinely a tough course we had a lot of laughs and fun moments in the middle of it all. Some of it is a Blur but most of it was Oasis and also notable tunes also from the Stone Roses, Muse, Radiohead, Prodigy, Rolling Stones, The Verve, Doves, Manics, REM and many many more

Music is medicine & I’m so grateful to my musical brothers & sisters.

There were several different events happening at the same time during the heat and middle of the day and it became a little confusing at times with all the different energies going off around the hub, but once back into the peace & calm of focussing on the running every hour, everything made sense and came together. The music fired me up like a second wind every lap, I thought I was dreaming at one point, like I could not have scripted the day better if I’d have sat there and made up my own story about a perfect day out running around with Britpop classics in the background, because that’s exactly what it was like!

Again, never underestimate the power of manifestation, positive thinking and the art of raising your vibration so that you attract good, positive people & experiences into your life.

I can’t wait to go to Queensland now and join in for an all weekend running party at the Clint Eastwood. I can see myself dancing and singing my way round that course al day and night and day and.....well, if they’ll let me in!

Correct, you also swear and sing a fair bit as well.

I’ve said it before I’ll keep saying it and you heard it from me first: There is nothing conceptually better in running than a Last One Standing Endurance Race. It’s the Rock n Roll of endurance running. It’s raw, simple, pure & true and it happens in the now. It provides a stage for you to give the greatest performance of your life- every present moment- every hour, on the hour & all the minutes in between. It really gives you the opportunity to be loud & proud and really turn up, (not just to be fully in the present moment) your training and turn up your performance to the next level.

Turn up, turn it up & BE LOUD!

As in running so in life; God calls upon you to bring all that you are to the starting corral and step up into the very highest version of yourself. All your experiences, the culmination of physical mental & spiritual training, as you step into space, out past the music (of Britpop!) into the blinding lights, then the darkness & then the many winding turns that lead us to who knows where, because there is no finish, is no end….. the end is just the beginning, of another loop, another lap- another chance to shine.

Competitive mindset bypass. There is no finish, there is no competition, there is no advantage to being the fastest runner, no disadvantage to being the slowest. Anyone who can complete a lap in time to be back ready to go out on another, has an equal chance at being the last one standing to complete that beautiful, identical repetition of what we all love: simply running in nature; one foot in front of the other, moving forward, fully grounded in the present moment; putting the practice of our meditative flow state into effect as best we can.

The reality of endurance trail running is that it is a tough struggle and your achievements are hard earned. Such is anything worth doing. And I’m sure anyone who heard me stumbling, swearing singing & shouting through the dark and the day, will attest that I am not the exactly an oasis of calm- I’m probably more like Oasis the band.

As many of you may already realise or guess from reading this, I don’t take the competitive, type a personality, or egoic side of running at all seriously. I do genuinely regard running as part of a spiritual practice. It can at times be done purely as a spiritual practice, like meditation or Yoga or making music. Running can bring us together, individually and collectively.

Not every time that run do I run spiritually, just as not every time I sit down do I meditate or every time I pick up my guitar do I make medicine music; sometimes I just make a noise or just sit or just go and run and zone out to music, However, there is a great light to be found when you just get out into nature and breathe and move gracefully, gratefully and in complete alignment with the flow of the universe and everything in it.

The Bluegoat track, like a spiritual path, is rocky, uneven, twisting & turning, it requires total concentration & surrender to the process; still you may trip, slip, maybe fall; there will be blood, sweat & tears….you need to climb & descend, there are milestones, you meet others at different stages in their journeys and there is no finish in sight; there are surprises, tests and you find yourself back at the beginning with each cycle….

There are tears and laughter and moments you don’t even comprehend at the time. It can be dark and ugly and chew you up and spit you out many times, all day long in fact....until you surrender to the process and let go.....Then you may see, there are obstacles and trials, but they are not in your way; the only thing standing in your way is you – and that’s really more of an illusion you created than a real living person, so you just get your unreal self out of the way and let your best self shine- & shine it does….

You can tell this is lap 1 - my legs are the still the same colour as my shirt.

All you need to succeed, at whatever you turn your mind to, is a single-minded determinism- pure focus & intention of putting one foot in front of the other and deciding not to stop until you have succeeded. May you spirit drive your machine wherever you may roam, knowing within you , is where you are home,.

So now we know the power of manifestation and endurance and the value of community & service to others, the plan must be created to use apply energy skills to seed & grow something of genuine, lasting value in this world. So that’s what’s gonna happen….it’s out there in the Universe, God is my witness, momentum is building, so watch this space….like, not literally here this is just a web page.

Whilst I train & participate in events during all conditions, phases & biorhythms, I do love a full moon. Clear full moon nights are magical & highly energetic; Blue Moon rising at the Blue Goat was perfectly poetic!

I'm not knocking a new moon, by polar contrast, or any other phase, but the energy was just right and I guess I was feeling lucky.

Let’s talk about feeling ‘lucky’ as I’ve already stated my predictions and what I positively manifested with my energies & intentions form the moment I made the instant decision to be at this race.

I basically created my own luck through being completely honest with myself whether this was something I could achieve.

Did I have what it takes to run at an LOS event? Of course, I did, no doubts at all. Why? Not arrogance or confidence, but the format itself. You can’t really lose in an LOS unless you are the last one standing! So going to win is going lose, and losing is glorious in all its forms. There is no shame in the DNF (Did Not Finish) at all if you’ve given your all. The DNF in other events is nothing to strive for or celebrate, but the DNF in the LOSER is a test to see how far you can go….what could be more pure? And the only one who doesn’t get to fully reach their potential on the day; reach the peak of what they can do on that day, during their race time, is the Last One Standing.

I created my own luck by setting my intention and my energy to creating & following a training program that would enable me to achieve my goals. I visualised being the last one standing for months and I trained like it was in the bag already, because that was what I felt deeply.

I knew it was my time & I had the God given ability to create my story & walk right into it. I said many times during the event that it was just perfect and that I couldn’t have scripted it better myself. I stepped into a higher version of myself that I’d created through some very tough training & some heartfelt actions; in another sense it felt like I was on stage performing.

Apart from key milestones that marked out the path of consistent focus and intuitive training, as I regained fitness from hiatus, there were some very specific and tough challenges that I set myself in order to prepare for a race of this nature. A race that just goes & goes & goes interminably requires you to leave no stone unturned regards you physical body, your mental ability your nutrition plan & your spirit. Someone once said runners don’t’ run with their legs they run with their arms. I believe runners. once the body is trained sufficiently, run with their minds- and the mind is fuelled by limitless energy & power of the spirit.

So you go through every motion of training and preparing your physical body and you feed you mind and your spirit with positive thoughts and genuine love for self & for others. If you don’t see this kind of thing in training programs, then you soon will do just as soon as I can get my shit together…..

I’d watched the Clint Eastwood & I’d watched the Big Dog & I fell in love with the concept of the LOS. I fell in love with all the people in the front row. The runners slogging it out in the Clint Eastwood LOS & the Australian team at Bigs Backyard Ultra satellite event. I decided in a moment that I wanted to be part of it, so I made it happen; the moment I’d made my mind up, everything started falling into place and I was sent signs and opportunities that I had to take without a moments thought. I knew that everything surrounding this journey had to be centered on other, something outside of, larger than self.

An ex Army bloke from the UK RunGrahamRun was doing a mental health charity treadmill World Record helping blokes with mental health and suicide prevention. The run was to complete 21 marathons in 7 days – on a treadmill! . He invited teams to rival of beat him in the challenge. So I supported this and set out to do just 7 marathons in 7 days.

This set me up very nicely for the next opportunity in my path, which was to support Mark Avery doing a 20 marathons in 20 days challenge for Gotch4Life and Run4MentalFitness- an Australian blokes charity helping with suicide prevention and setting up places for blokes to engage in ways that deal with the root of bloke issues. Safe places to share stories, feelings and concerns without judgement.

Instead of just marathons, I actually did ultramarathons and also added in a lot of cycling. I know how to listen to my body and push it through adaptations with fasting, nutrition & specifically focussed rotations across all terrains and relevant speeds and intensities. You are really just calibrating a complex God driven physical body through a series of experiences in order to achieve a specific goal.

The goal in this instance was conceptually perfect in that it was technically interminable, ie. kind of eternal. You simply had to train to go as far as you could go; so you had to see how close to the edge you could get to that point in the training, without breaking yourself.

I genuinely pushed my limits and discovered more about running and endurance than all the hours my studying had taught me, and infinitely more than debating with ultra coaches online could ever have revealed. I trained and pushed harder and longer than ever before and also balanced that with more rest & recovery and fine tuning than ever before. I applied every technique I knew and discovered exactly what nutrition worked best in all situations.

After all the training and the experience of others doubts, I thought it would be quite amusing to win one of the toughest ultra endurance challenges in Australia while singing and dancing & wearing a lairy pink shirt and cargo shorts I got from Big W, fuelled up with honey water, bananas and hemp and walnut oil . I had a plan, a 50 hour plan. It consisted of 30 litres of honey water (1kg raw honey per 10l) 25 ripe bananas, 250ml x Hemp seed oil 250ml x Walnut oil, a few vitamin e capsules and a few coq10 capsules.

So let that be a cheeky lesson to all you very serious runners in your expensive compression gear, with your gadgets & gimmicks and fancy nutritional products & lord knows what else you use, slogging away to the beat of your watch, as I did before a great meltdown of over training and loss of genuine joy- in running and in life. In many ways the way I run today is a result of hard lessons and failures, or going too far too son, and burning out. I’ve been obsessed with a quicker this a quicker that, gotta beat the last time every time.....lets set an unrealistic goal....it slowly takes all the joy out of your passion like all addictions inevitably do.

Let this light shine on those who talk the talk so readily in their little cliques and so called training groups, especially those who have personally attacked me and tried to shut me down or censor the story of my training and my experiences for reasons best known to their egos and projected issues. I forgive ya.

May the light of my achievements and those of my brothers & sisters- everyone walking the walk- everyone saying I can- illuminate the dark attitudes of the ‘can’t’do this ‘can’t’ do that- and the put downs and rationalising words of so called science, and disbelief in your training, thinking , fuelling, wider wellness strategies..... genuine experiences......May my brothers & sisters who are in doubt, or disliking, hating, fearing, not loving, put down the ego, and find a better way. May my walk inspire others to walk the walk and to never say they can’t do something, or be held back by others as to what they think they can or can’t achieve. And may I long take all my own best advice back to my own heart as well and never forget it.

Everyone, today, just get outside and get moving and enjoy what you are doing and be grateful that you can do what you can do; and you’ll find that you can do a lot more and a lot more and a lot more......

Genuine footage from an online Ultra running research conference.

I know what it’s like to lose things, we all do, but there’s no use banging on about that old story; a great spiritual teacher recently told me that I had to put that down and never pick it up again.... and so it is. So know this - an event that celebrates losing in all its glory is of divine significance when you are running on a spiritual path. You ether win or your learn ; and in a race/journey with no winners, everybody learns, which is a glorious & pure win win paradox.

It takes the biggest fear in endurance running - the dreaded DNF (Did Not Finish) and turns it into a glorious badge of honour. A badge that says you gave your all. You went as far as YOU could go on that day, in that place. There is nothing to fear in the LOS regarding a DNF. You really cannot lose.....

......unless you win!? Ooops, well, oh well, I think I can handle it.

I wasn’t quite ready for my glorious DNF just yet, so I became the biggest LOSER. And I’ll just have to wait and see where my glorious limits truly lie.....

I caught quite a tan out there.

So, after an extended power snooze I revived myself and had some pizza and some Goat’s pish, and enjoyed the hospitality and company of Tony,Alun & Susannah, thereafter kipping on the sofa for the night, where upon I made a swift exit the next morning, before the England v Wales Rugby came on....I think I might’ve predicted the score and dIdn’t want to hang about for it.

Truth is, I had to get back to talk to my son Jack (also race strategy/challenge consultant) on the phone and then on Zoom and told him the news.. He was pleased I won, and notwithstanding the pep talks about the true nature of taking part, he rightly likes it when I win. I think it has a positive effect when your son knows that you’ve gone and done something a bit special, even if it might not make full sense to him now, it may well help him in the future, so that's a win win. I actually asked him during one of the training cycles (20 maras in 20 days) whether I should beat everyone on the leaderboard or let the organiser take the top spot. He said nah, beat him, I don’t think he’ll mind if you win. So that’s what I did.... thanks for the tip matey!

So here endeth the tale of a fantastic weekend and experience, can’t wait for next year, see if we can get double the numbers starting and smash some course records. Hoping to see more of my running buddies on that starting corral with me having a dance and a song and then heading out onto the endless, beautiful loops of our own personal limits...... anything can and always does happen in a race- sorry journey- of this kind.

You may be next years LOS, with me to help you to go as far as I possibly can, leaving YOU to do just one last loop and be the biggest LOSER on the day? You know it makes sense. Big love from Steve. :)

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opes-magnas · 4 years

Text

The Funeral

How would it be, if you could see your funeral unfold?

I can’t believe they let the casket be open! Gosh!

I can’t look at myself that way, of course no one wants to look at themselves devoid of life and rotting away but it was much more harder for me to be another entity (which I didn’t believe to exist) and just stand there letting my body lay there when I desperately want to wiggle into it, like a cosy blanket that covers your toes when it’s cold but sadly that’s what death means, its finality only hits you only after it scoops up your soul, from the tiny little nest in your body and sets it free, to float in the air, to become one with the soil, to flow like water, to burn like fire or attain peace if that’s what you were destined to for, be one with the most singular core of the universe, which I am yet to know because I’m still here.

With death also comes revelation of secrets which were hidden in plain sight that everyone looked for but never actually desired it or wanted it only for the sake of knowing it. It’s like that tiny voice inside your head which speaks to you and you know everyone also experiences the same thing but no one really speaks about it or wants to prove it.

Wow! death did make me philosophical which I never was, but now I’m not Scarlett Hamilton I’m just a lost soul detached from its anchor, I don’t even know why I’m here, but the weird part is I can still feel strong emotions towards all the people I loved or even hated, I can see my daughter crying a river out, those salty tears roll down like beads stringing along a long pearl necklace I once wore.

Yup, now it’s just getting started, maybe I have willed myself so hardly too able to witness the grandeur of the world just once last time before I go wherever I’m supposed to. So my metaphorical body’s shaking at the thought of being a spectator to my own funeral.

The service started and I was standing on top an empty chair in the last row, I saw my husband standing near the casket with my four other brothers. He’s still as handsome as the first time I laid my eyes on him, I still can’t believe that I landed him, he is like way out of my league.

Those deep blueish green eyes, which appear like the sea bed whenever sunlight hits on it at very specific angles and brings out this certain depth, a mystery, which I would try to unravel every time I gazed into them and one day while eating French toast in a small Parisian cafe I made a rather curious analogy to this one puzzle that I just couldn’t get right, a continuous clockwork ticking and every second it’s different and that can never be brought back and a mystical creature might pop out any moment and he laughed his wide goofy grin which made his dimples appear distinctly. His platinum blonde hair slightly below his ears almost caressing them lightly, I can still remember the way I used to run my fingers through it like it just happened this morning, oh! It did. I’m happy that was the last thing I did before you know, I died. The rippling of muscles can still be seen underneath that black suit he’s wearing, which I picked out for him to wear to the his big Oscar after party. Everything just feels so real yet so far away, I’m right here, but I’m a world away from him. I guess I felt this way when we had a big fight about well I don’t remember what and honestly it was stupid but we stopped talking and when I was sitting right next to him, I felt miles and miles away from him. It was the worst.

I’m longing to have another moment with him, just to tell him that I’ve loved him until my very last breath, literally, that no one else could ever have made more of an impact on my life other than him, and I just have so many things to do.

Funny, now I want to do so many things when I’ve wished to die like a thousand times or probably even tried to. But now since I’m really dead all I want to do is live another moment.

Shaking off the deathly feeling, yeah now I’m definitely in the second stage of grieving, “the acceptance”.

The service started with the father saying some kind words about how I always was such a big donator to the church funds, honestly I did it because I didn’t know what to do with the money I had, it might come of snobbish but that was the truth. Now I’m being applauded for an act I did, not in the intention everyone believes it was done.

Now, I wish was more spiritual than I was, to actually believe there is something out of reach which I thought wasn’t possible cos the motto I always believed in was, ‘There are no boundaries to the knowledge you can unearth. Science can become quite lonely, even when you’re the most alone, if you could just believe you have one other person with you, God, it would be so splendiferous just to never be alone.

Focus, you insipient fool, focus! these are your last moments on this beautiful world, you’ll probably be eternally damned to the meadows of asphodel to have time to ponder upon the tiny nuances of life, right now take in as much as you can, you probably won’t remember Darcy, Ophelia, Zoheth or for that matter Zeke when you leave.

Then, my best friend walked up to the podium, I could the rivers of mascara gushing down, unrestrained, like the mighty rivers, sparing no one who stood in the way, right now the only things that stood in the way were tiny mountains of acne, pimples which were barely visible, but as she always said I was omnipercepient, but that was arrogant on my behalf to actually believe it deep down.

Euphemia, ‘the well-spoken off’, ‘the one who martyred for what she believed in’, is actually what her name means, and I was always awed like how her parents could have even the slightest clue that she would one day live up to the glory that her name had already bestowed on her.

Somebody, in some late night show once asked me to describe Euphemia as a scent. I sat baffled for a minute, because I thought of her as this limitless person who couldn’t be bound by timidity of just words but I did try my best.

I distinctly remember the first time all of my green roses (that’s something I call my gang as, I identified each of them with these characters from Oscar Wilde’s books the first time I met them, and I do hope someone gets this reference for once)

We went hiking to the grand canyon, we climbed uphill all day long soaked with perspiration, but when we reached the peak, I had to remind myself to breathe as I felt so awed by nature, like those slightly purple pink rock mountains rising majestically as in a challenge to the sky, splitting the clouds into an shards of glass when they’re broken, but reflecting the dazzling light in all its glory all across, in every colour I could ever imagine about, huge trees appeared like chess pawns moved here and there by the will of these cordilleras, I just relished every moment I saw this marvellous creation.

Then at night we lit this bonfire, which emanated a strange crackling and pungent smell at first but it soon felt so familiar. Warm and fuzzy that I felt I’ve been discerning this forever. That is how I think Euphemia would be if I could ever convert her essence into a scent.

She pursued her full lips, biting the inside of her cheek, knotting her overly expressive eyebrows into this broken bridge, contracting her face into a lemon being squeezed out of its limit, I could feel the turmoil she was in just by glancing at her. She gripped the mic with her freshly manicured nails and began to speak in a tone I’ve heard her use only a few times.

“Scar, I wish you were here with me…. umm I don’t know what you would want me to say though we talked about every single thing on earth, being the twisted sisters 2.0, but we weren’t dark to begin with.

As you always said, with every end there is a new beginning, as today marks the end of your mortal life here, I so want to reminisce the beginning we had which some might say is odd but we were never normal to begin with.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I was walking towards me to be dorm, on broken cobblestones, just thinking of how small electrons can be and walked up the creaky wooden stairs and reached ROOM 27 , and I knocked the door and heard a ‘come in’ and dragged my two very huge suitcases in to see her standing there.

She scuffled over in her very high heels thumping methodically against the floor and when I was just about to measure its oscillation period with my pulse rate, she hugged me.

I’m not hugger nor am I a “people person”, so I responded with an awkward side hug and my face buried in her brown curls cascading down to her shoulders.

You must be Scarlet, the genius whiz kid! Hi, I’m Euphemia Clarke, I’m an undergrad in English lit, women studies and philosophy. So?

Umm… I’m scarlet Hamilton, I’m a grad in theoretical and quantum physics and English lit.

But, your of my age, how could you be a grad student? Yeah, I forgot momentarily that I’m in the presence of the next greatest scientist here, ooh we’ll be buddies in English lit. But why English lit? It seems like an odd choice for a science person to be interested in... And your also doing a double degree... what can’t you do! I must bagged the lottery in roommates cos you’re just a dream to be with and ooh nice dress huh... Zara 2018...chic, edgy and makes a statement... thank God! You have a nice taste, I couldn’t possibly live with a horrible makeover gone wrong nincompoop, I would just die a thousand deaths before that.

Uhhh...

Yeah?

Um... I should get settled in, then I might have to go and take a tour of the library, it’s pretty huge and also do some other admin stuff, so I guess I’ll see then.

Shut up, I’m going to help, it literally took an army for my room to be done, I came like 2 days early just to do some painting work, what colour do you like? We could...

My head kept spinning and jumping on ropes just to catch up with her, all I could hear was an echo of words and she did a graceful swirl and smiled at me, “we’re going to be just fine.”

I had the chance to then observe her like I did everyone, a “perfect body” some magazines would say, slender, about 5’2, a brunette with deep green eyes , her eyebrows deserved an award for all the jumps, somersaults, backbends they did and her smile made me feel like I was tasting honey on a warm summer afternoon at centennial park.

I certainly can’t be friends with her, she’s one of the high and mighty sorority girls who went on a shopping spree to Dior, Chanel and Marc Jacobs and spent like $500,000 dollars buying a pair of fur coats and heels and wanted to become a socialite fluttering at parties being ‘the pretty one’ and marry some rich guy and came to colleges like Yale only cos ‘daddy’ paid whoever was looking at her essays to look the other way.

God! Am I judgmental?

(Some months of awkward conversations later)

We were walking to English lit together and she was strutting like a Ralph Lauren model on a runway in ridiculously high heels and just took my hand in hers and gave it a squeeze without even looking at me and held the door open.

Today we were discussing about ‘Pride and Prejudice’ and because I’ve almost read the book a hundred times I was very excited to what kind of discussion we were going to have, I have looked at the book from my perspective which is can vary from a hopeless romantic to a strong feminist depending on what kind of mood I’m in, I want to see the book how a person who doesn’t believe in love, feminism, freedom sees it, obviously I will take it offensively but my curiosity multiplies by the second.

She and I spilt as we walked into the class, she went towards the back.

I found my seat in the middle of the amphitheater like classroom, which I think was chosen for English literature class specifically just to add that glamour, majesty and that extra pinch of drama that old English prose gives off. Clever.

Ms. Dalloway started reading the book, which opens with an immortal statement, “It is truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of good fortune must in want of a good wife.” Why don’t we kick the class of by a discussion on this iconic statement? Anyone up for the challenge?

Aah. Scarlet, not you again, I sincerely hope the next time you will allow the other nitwits here to use the fragments of their brains left. But, go on, you certainly are the person to speak about this book.

I think what that sentence means in plain English is that any man who is rich and handsome wants a trophy wife just to look at him as if he’s the greatest and adore him like a silly schoolgirl and basically smother and mother him and nurse his big giant ego.

I think this sentence is truly aptly describes how the society was and is, women are always reduced to matter of objects traded between men and valued only for looking pretty and being a social butterfly and the main goal in their life is to be a human incubators or rather baby machines. On a more serious and highly unfair note of beauty standards, however ugly the man is, he wanted a small waisted, thin, fair maiden from a “good family”. I mean women almost killed themselves trying to please men, wearing those corsets as tight their lungs could probably burst, lead powder as kohl and what not, just so men could feel valued, I don’t know even they even knew what self-respect meant. Jane Austen is a genius, she almost gave a jist of her novel in the very first sentence.

I don’t think she is the right person to speak about this book, Ms. Dalloway, she has only the view of a feminist, when one talks about a book, and it must be from an unbiased view.

All heads turned towards who spoke, even I was surprised that Euphemia could even think about anything other than her Manolo Blanik pink lacy heels she bought yesterday.

I think this story is totally unrelatable, yes I am a woman but it didn’t make it any easier for me to relate to it, I mean like everyone sees Miss Bennet as a prime example of Feminism, strength and how women can make their own way and stand by the things they believe in. But, she is as shallow, narrow as the other women and a big bully. She makes fun of Mr.Bingley because he is isn’t tall, handsome when she herself believes that women must not be judged for their external beauty. Men and women having equal opportunities, isn’t that what feminism means, and isn’t she being a huge hypocrite when she is going against the very ideals she believes in? She also mocks Caroline, who calls her family out on their shit. So, that makes her exactly the same as the others.

That was when I knew she would be my best friend.

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“Yeah and that’s how I knew she would be my best friend, because she stood by what she believed in, actually it is funny my name means the saint who married for what she believed in and her name means wealth and both of us embodied what each other meant and then had an epiphany that we could be what we were meant to be since we were born by looking at each other.”

I will be eternally grateful to Scarlet for making me more than a pretty girl, a woman who was a force of nature, who couldn’t be stopped by these insipid little men. I love you my dear, I always have. The only regret I have is I didn’t say it as often as I wished to. I love you, you have left an everlasting scar on my heart.”

Oh, Mia, I know, I know…

I saw her walk down the aisle and I remembered the day I walked her down the aisle to her husband and she looked at me and told, “You have left an everlasting scar on my heart.”

She looked at Zeke and nodded and went and sat next to Jake who kissed her cheek ever so tenderly and squeezed her shoulders just like I used to and she broke.

Many others spoke, like my mum, whose sentences weren’t distinguishable because of her crying and how God should have taken her instead, and it is so terrible to live after your child had died and looking at my face which was full and pink now shrivelled and almost passed out just to be caught by Papa, who couldn’t look her in the eye.

Mama always loved me dearly, I was the only girl out of 4 boys who were tough, burly and never asked for a kiss and a hug before running off to school, chatted with her late in the night explaining how she saw the world from her tiny green emeralds for her eyes and asked her flaming red hair to be combed into braids and always was willing to hear family gossip.

Well, papa wasn’t as warm and gooey as mum but he loved me , I knew it when he was hard on me to study better even when I got straight A’s and had skipped grades but didn’t give my brothers a twat when they scored less than adequate. He believed in me, which is more than I ever could ask for.

Maybe my cold and hard side was because of him, I was very analytical and logical and never let my emotions interfere with my decisions except when I said yes to my husband.

I never said this thought out loud, not even thought about it to myself, I was never a warm and gooey person who went around telling people how much I loved them, so it comes as quite a shock to me that I could even think of it. Maybe death brings finality to little things that were left out.

Saying the word still gives me chills, which reminds me again that we are never ready for things unless forced upon us. Whoever thinks they are ‘ready’ for life, they mostly never are, I never was.

My children came up, Darcy held Ophelia and Zoh like a fierce lioness protecting her cubs, I knew I raised her right, she took the mic and started speaking so confidently, she turned her steel grey eyes and looked right at me, a sharp light baring through my soul, almost as if she could see me and nodded her head right at me.

“Sorry, mum I haven’t shed a tear for you, even though the cessation of this hasn’t quite hit me yet, but I could see the differences already, nobody told if this black dress was appropriate or if my looked okay and Ophy and Zoh relied on me completely. I am sorry, but I know you never expected me to cry, but I think I know well enough to tell you expected me to be great. I still remember you whispering in my ear, before I entered Harvard, “Be Great or Nothing”, and those words were repeated by me in the break of dawn every day. You were what I wanted to be, independent, brave, most of all I was grateful to God to be blessed with the lottery in genetics. So, ma, that’s what I’m going to be, great.”

I saw the way her eyes sparkled with fear, fierceness almost as if her heart had broken into a million pieces yet she was holding it together not for the sake of putting on a show, but for herself. All I could do was smile, a huge grin actually, all the time I wanted them to be ordinary people, but she proved me wrong, greatness runs inn our blood.

Zoh and Ophelia, my little babies, I wasn’t worried about them either, they did cry though but chanted this one sentence together, “ Vincit qui se vincit .” and the three of them bowed before my casket, touched my feet, an intense bolt and I could hear them whisper together, non-duco ,duco.

An intense bolt of lightning shot through me, I looked at my arms they became almost transparent now. I could feel myself fading away, being sucked into but, I was ready to go before hearing his voice one last time.

My children, I was proud of myself to have raised them, but I looked at the sky above me and thanked the Gods for giving such Brave and strong humans into me. Thank you, thank you.

I was so lost in the maternal glory and satisfaction, I didn’t notice Zeke passing out on the podium before he even uttered a word.

He slowly swayed down, his eyelids shutting down on his beliquent violet eyes gleaming with distress and grief, his hands went upwards in a dramatic manner and his knees buckled down and landed with a thud on the floor, out of habit his eyes frantically searched the room for me before giving out a guttural scream in my name.

Suddenly, everything moved so slowly, people sauntered about as glaze leisurely dripped of a cake, none could hear me screaming, scratching and pushing past everyone to hold him.

The next thing I remember is sitting in a rushing ambulance moving like those cars in video games, twishing and twashing around other vehicles but never actually touching them. I could feel his heartbeat getting fainter and fainter and his hand grappling to my side. I put all the strength I had left in me to push his intense desire to be with me.

The doctors were speaking in a feverish pitch and everyone was so focused on saving him, my reality jilted and I was back in the Lake District National Park, the glacial ribbon like water was still the same, where the sky kissed the tip of peak Windermere who was stretching into the sky, looking for lost love, the purple pink flowers scattered around, the manifestation of temptation, no one resisted in plucking them out ,, the reflection trees into the almost ice like water gleamed like crystals, miles and miles of grass stretching infinitely and in it were a thousand insects, chirping and hooting and going by their lives not knowing the amount of tragedy that has befallen the world and a plaid picnic spread over with all my favourites which included my person.

I remember this day, the day of my betrothal to my beloved.

Ezekiel, the same serene look on his face, his mouth puckered into a smile that tugged at his dimples, his platinum hair swaying the wind and his hands beckoning me towards, as much as I wanted to go, I stood rooted where I was. Even if I moved an inch, I somehow became aware of the repercussions, the loss of his life, the more intense his desire to stay with me, the less will he has to live.

Dr.Burke once said, “With all medical realities being equal, why does one person live and another die? I believe there is a mind, body and spirit connection.”, if Zeke doesn’t want to live, no matter how much the odds that favour him, his body will defy everything to be with, me.

Our love, was the kind of love that came around once in a lifetime, the pure love which doesn’t expect anything in return but just loves not because of the looks but because of the thoughts, the feelings and mostly the heart. I loved Zeke with every inch of my body, every cell in my being and it tears my heart to leave him alone, but I won’t be selfish today. He still has a lot left to do, his time hasn’t come yet, and death hasn’t knocked upon his door so I’m not going to slip the key to it.

He smiled, “Scarlett, my sun, my moon and stars, come, please. You know why, I can’t live another minute knowing you’re not there to lay my head upon your lap and talk about how our day went, or to see your chest collapse and fall with every breath, the comfort it gives me, just in knowing your alive . No, no, no!!”

I know, but you must always remember that I will be live as long as there is a place for me in your heart, I will live in those times your remember me and smile, I will live in those moments where you and the kids look up to the sky and say my name, I will live as long you draw breath, do you wish to kill my legacy? Do you? Go back Ezekiel, go back, I will wait for you.

His face contorted into a fit of rage, sorrow, despair and he walked near me and starting thrashing wildly, kicking his arms and legs in all inhumanly directions, screaming, yelling and when I looked into his eyes and gave him one last look, he stretched his arm out to lightly touch my fingertips and whispered,” Goodbye, my love, I will live for you.” as he knelt before me the same way he did that day.

I felt myself being swirled into a whirlpool of light, stretching me into long into infinite bounds, suddenly filled with power and just the feeling of being complete and then darkness enveloped everywhere.

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— Whoosh, a gust of wind blew over his face, almost caressing him. —

His eyelids fluttered open just a little, just enough to a peek at what is around him.

“Where am I? “

Daddy, you fainted at mum’s... umm... funeral and had a heart attack on the way, but now you’re okay, I sent Ophelia and Zoheth home, they persisted to stay but they had to go to school, that’s what mum would have wanted. You were muttering something in your sleep about seeing mum... Did you actually see her?

Yes, I did, she convinced me to stay. Go home, and take rest, you need to get back to college, remember what we promised mom? We are going to keep our word. Go.

She came and hugged him and gave a toothy grin and said,” Yes.” and closed the door behind her.

Thoughts flooded Zeke’s mind, he could remember clearly what happened at the lakes, and he knew what he was going to do. He clutched at his wedding ring and gazed outside his window knowingly. Even dead, Scarlet had made him a better man.

Scarlett I hope your happy.

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“What I want in my life is willing to be dazzled, to be cast aside by the weight of facts and maybe even float a little above this difficult world.” ~ M.O.

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Love,

Lady Lazarus

(picture and prompt from: pinterest)

#writeblr #writeblr community #mystery #supernatural #oneshot #i feel like an old lady #technology man #its great #lady lazarus

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anangelicday-mrwolf · 4 years

Text

Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 6 – Frankenstein’s Secret

“Goddamn it.”

Frankenstein spat out a contemptuous grumble, stowing away his Dark Spear. His goal was to keep the monster in his grip for 3 minutes, but the stopwatch in his pocket was marked with digits 1 and 13, a record 30 seconds shorter than the previous one.

Despite the shortness of time lapse, the chamber looked utterly disastrous, plastered with dark purple on every corner of its floor, walls, and ceiling. Frankenstein could not help marveling how he was standing on pieces of tiles instead of their particles.

“This is gonna cost me another series of days and nights,” said Frankenstein in a biting tone, looking around the calamity he brought upon the chamber once again.

Ever since the nuclear missile launch by Crombell, there had been several changes Frankenstein met.

First, for example, the number of vacancies in his house at Seoul increased. Second, the name engraved on the nameplate in the Ye Ran chairman’s office is no longer his. Third, the diplomatic relation between Lukedonia and wolfkind is now completely and literally on the bright side.

Yes, quite a lot has changed, but what Frankenstein just forced himself to encounter was the biggest and most noteworthy change. And a bad change.

Unlike before, Frankenstein’s power turned unimaginably unstable. The degree of instability was nothing like before. Now a mere act of summoning the Dark Spear has become, metaphorically, trying to make an ice cube stay perfectly unscathed while slamming down a gigantic hammer onto it in full power.

And the missile launch was the genesis of such catastrophic change. Or rather, it all began the minute Frankenstein felt his bond to his master shattered.

*****

Fifteen days ago, when the bond from his contract with Raizel was destroyed, Frankenstein was tortured by the aftermath of his loss. He felt as if the most fundamental root of his soul was broken down. He felt as if he were a prisoner to the extinction of his entire time and existence. Most of all, he felt as if every biological molecule of his body was detonated, and oh-good-heavens, how it hurt.

It was more than a loss. A mother would have deemed it the death of her child. A patriot would have dubbed it the day his country was eternally conquered. Juliet would have identified it the moment she saw Romeo fallen about her. And it hurt.

His pain burned his entity even when he with the rest of his fellow fighters returned to his home. Which is why the first thing he did upon stepping through his door was to make everyone promise that they will leave him alone for a while, so that he could let his powers screech and shriek and scream in mourning annihilation, in a special chamber under the ground.

His control was totally lost as he roared in the center of a storm of black and purple. The last bit of his sense of responsibility forbid him of pulling out his weapon, but he brandished his dark power so viciously even Gradeus would grovel, begging for his mentorship.

The only time in the past he had ever unleashed his power without restraint was when he lost the tug-of-war against his own power and forfeited his mind.

And he had rather wished he would lose his mind, for the pain was unendurable to handle with his sanity intact. Much to his dismay and heartbreak, his mind was at full function, incising his foundational essence with psychological, emotional, and spiritual trauma.

After whipping up a tempest of maddening woe, he fell asleep into a nightmare.

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

‘...What?’

... .... r.. s.. F....

‘...What’s that noise?’

..F.. f... n....

‘What...? I can’t hear you...’

...Fr... ...tei... n....

‘I said I can’t hear you... It hurts.’

Frankenstein groaned, enveloped by mysterious noises echoing from eerie darkness.

...s.. s...

‘Shut up. I don’t wanna hear you... Just leave me alone.’

...ss... B...

‘Shut. Up. Just leave me alone...’

..ss. Bo...ss...

‘Please!!!!!’

“Boss!!!!!”

Noises resembling cacophony from unfocused radio were outdistanced by a familiar voice, and Frankenstein’s eyes frantically flashed open as if he were electrocuted.

Almost at the same time, his upper body slashed through the air in elevation, only to shrivel due to bone-wrecking pain that hit his whole body like a lightning.

Forcing himself to ignore his joints writhing in complaint as the result of his rampage, Frankenstein turned his eyes towards the source of the voice and ended up staring directly into the eyes of a man with black-hair-studded-with-white-locks. His eyes were trembling in uneasiness as he was kneeled by Frankenstein’s side.

“...What are you doing here, Tao?”

“W-what do you mean, what am I doing here? I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m bushed, not brainless. And I know same could be said of you. I’m asking how you got in here, ‘cause I do remember sealing the chamber before... Before all this.”

“Uh... Well...”

Tao, instead of answering, directed his gaze beyond his shoulder, onto the door that was nearly dissipated into debris.

That was a cue for Frankenstein to take in the status of the special chamber designed to cloak and stand against Dark Spear’s power. The door was the least damaged component of the chamber, he noticed. Wherever he locked his eyes upon was marred by dark-purple blurs, as if the apocalypse itself dawned upon the room while Frankenstein was in dark frenzy.

“I could feel your power from up there, so I had to come down. What on earth happened here?”

“...I couldn’t help it.”

Frankenstein hoped he would not have to waste his energy talking, but Tao mouthed something incoherent, hinting that he needed to hear more.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Uh... Actually, I’ve been watching you for roughly a minute.”

“...And?”

“That is, I’ve been watching you asleep. Or I think you were asleep. But when you were on the floor... I could see the Dark Spear’s aura rippling from your body.”

Tao then pointed towards the ceiling behind Frankenstein. There was a crevasse huge enough to hold the Eiffel Tower, dripping with purple aura that Frankenstein could identify anywhere, anytime.

“When I walked up to you, you started to mumble something. And that made the Dark Spear’s aura surge and do that. I would’ve thought you were showing off how strong you can be while on your back, if only I hadn’t seen how your eyes were closed, and your breathing was stable.”

Showing off how strong I am on my back? I don’t recollect beating your head that hard during our past trainings. In normal circumstances, Frankenstein would have jokingly retorted as so.

‘I emitted Dark Spear’s power during sleep?’

This was not the first time his control over the Dark Spear slipped during sleep. His past is an archive of numerous attempts and failures in governing the damned weapon.

However, now his failures are history, a record of his efforts in making friends with the Dark Spear. Ever since he honed his mastery of the Spear, he has never lost grip of his reins, regardless of the intensity or numeral degree of souls the Spear has absorbed.

He was aware that this time, out of his loss and pain, he deliberately bombarded the chamber with his power. He even considered throwing away his reasons to turn into a mad dog. Nevertheless, he did not plan at all to actually lose his control. And the level of damage was way beyond his calculation or expectation.

This chamber was repaired and improved at the time when he made a mimicry of Raizel’s seal with the power of the Dark Spear. In consideration of the chances that the Dark Spear will absorb increasingly stronger souls in the course of struggle against the Union, Frankenstein compounded the chamber’s cloaking integration and defense against Dark Spear’s power. Yet the chamber’s door was nearly unhinged, and Tao even picked up his power from dozens of meters above.

“Boss?”

Tao nervously called Frankenstein’s name, his voice now thicker with concern. Frankenstein had to intentionally change the subject, as he detected fear unparallel in Tao’s eyes.

“...What’s keeping the rest of the team?”

“...For some reason, Takio and M-21 suddenly left for school.”

“And Seira? Regis? Rael?”

“T-they left after they told me they’ll be away for a bit. So did Sir Karious. Since they asked me not to look for them for a while, unless it is absolutely necessary, I doubt they’ll be back by the end of the day.”

“Really...? Good.”

“No, it’s not good! Nothing is good! How can you say it’s good when something is obviously wrong with...”

“Yes, it is. Because I have just one person to silence on this matter.”

Tao gaped at him, quietly questioning his words. Frankenstein straightened his face, serious and devoid of fatigue from days of combat.

“I need a favor, Tao.”

Certain that his house will be empty, the next day, with Tao’s assistance, Frankenstein fixed his chamber as his time and resources allowed for an experiment: using a sample of rapidly-working sleep inducer to see if he loses his control over his weapon whenever he falls asleep.

The results from multiple rounds of experiments that therefore took place were neither helpful nor hopeful, for the Dark Spear’s aura leaked every time he was in slumber.

He wished he was mistaken. Or too imaginative. Or too tired and thus delirious. However, the fact that he always woke up to find Tao (who was in charge of injecting him with rapidly-working awakening drug before things got out of hand) wearing apprehension matching his own killed his hope.

“Maybe... Maybe this is because the Dark Spear absorbed the Blood Stone Crombell was using, at the end of your last battle with Crombell.”

And a hypothesis Tao offered to bring about a change in the atmosphere slaughtered his hope.

Frankenstein cursed the Blood Stone and its copies, as they were the direct or indirect cause of pain and damage for his master and those he held in his heart. But now the abominable stone was part of the Dark Spear – part of him.

The second the terrible realization swept through him, Frankenstein was urged to rip his own skin off his body out of self-abhorrence that exploded like a volcano.

And that was the reason why Frankenstein decided to leave Korea after Raizel’s return. The main reason, of course, was to discover the secret behind Raizel’s return as well as reinvigoration: to find out how in the world the Noblesse managed to not only rise from death but also become healthier than before.

On the other hand, he wanted to secretly resolve his secret. He wanted to separate pieces of the Blood Stone from Dark Spear in one way or another. And in the meantime, he wanted to somehow stabilize his power back to normal.

Hence he had to stay awake with his wolfsbane tonic, in order to prevent himself from discharging Dark Spear’s aura in sleep and to find command over the Blood Stone stuck in his weapon.

‘And here I am, not making progress at all. God, this thing would trash harder and harder whenever I pull it out.’

Sighing heavily, Frankenstein fell to the floor as he was engrossed in thoughts, speculating for how long would he be able to keep his secret a secret when he is now entrusted with Muzaka’s favor.

Until very recently, he has been wary only of his master. Although there is a link between their minds based on their contract, Raizel respected him. He would never inspect his loyal servant’s mind even if he wants to. In other words, his master would be unaware of his distress as long as he is careful. And since he happens to be away from Raizel, technically there is not a chance of getting caught in action by the Noblesse.

In fact, the greatest threat for him as of now is the secret agent Muzaka dispatched for him.

So far Lunark has noted nothing. But there is no guarantee he can keep it that way, especially when that afternoon he could see how attentive and observant she is. And much more interested in him than he had wanted.

‘Hang on. Want? Want what?’

Startled by his own thought, he soon reprimanded himself.

‘What could you possibly want from her, Frankenstein? She may not be an enemy any longer, but she is still the one to be most wary of.’

Pushing back the bitter ache somewhere in his body that rose out of unknown reason, Frankenstein calmed his breathing.

He was already plagued with tons of worries, but he knew what he had to do – get rid of his secret as fast as he can, without letting Lunark learn what is occupying his mind and soul.

‘I should borrow Tao’s hand if I have to. He is the only one who shares my secret.’

As soon as he recalled Tao’s name for once, the three initial members of the RK whom Frankenstein had left behind in Korea popped up in his mind.

‘Which reminds me, I wonder how they are doing with their duties.’

(next chapter)

Yes, this is the reason why Frankenstein had to leave Korea (at least in my fic) in addition to his new quest in discovering the secret behind Rai’s miraculous return to life, which will surely be discussed in this fic later on.

I figured it wouldn’t be so bad to decide that Frankenstein’s Dark Spear (hence his power) got unstable because of the Blood Stone that Crombell used before his demise. In fact, in the last episode of Noblesse Frankie did mention that Dark Spear will be unstable for a while because it absorbed Crombell and his Blood Stone.

Next up, we’ll be revisiting Korea to take a look at a couple familiar faces, one of whom will be an unexpected character long forgotten. :)

#fanfic #korean webcomic #korean webtoon #noblesse #frankenstein #lunark #frankensteinxlunark #wolfsbane

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quarantingz · 4 years

Text

attempting to write again...

sunday, 7 june at 10 am

The truth is I haven’t posted in God knows how long because with every attempt I’ve made to write, it would just get cut short by this nagging need for every sentence to be grammatically perfect and equally profound. For it to be coherent and concise. But that’s not how my mind works at all. What initially was supposed to be a safe and healthy space (and way) for Alyssa and I to express ourselves had turned into something more regulated, for me at least. I had slept with my social editor (credits to Welby Ings for coining this term) which extended beyond a one night stand and now I need to break up with him. So please bear with me as I now proceed to do exactly that, by trying to write after many previous failed attempts. Only this time with less judgment and resistance.

I guess another truth worth mentioning as to why I haven’t returned from my writing hiatus, if we want to call it that, was because I was wrestling with a lot of thoughts and ideas. Both internal and external, ever since coming out of lockdown and back into society. Almost like an ex-convict freed from jail. Only I didn’t see iso as anything closely resembling imprisonment but rather a time for rest and retreat. It’s funny because the book I spent almost all of quarantine in the company of (I consider books as my friends at this point) was about house arrest too. I learned a lot from that book. I’ll quote a handful of lines that stood out to me throughout this blogpost.

Right now I’m sitting here reflecting again on what lockdown entailed for me. I know I’m not alone in saying that it was actually a really positive experience. Although difficult in the beginning, I allowed myself to relax for once. Yes I still felt on edge, anxious and frantic at times but most of my mornings were sacred and something to look back fondly on.

I’m going to be honest again and say that I’m finding it hard to continue writing right now. Before creating this Note entry, everything was coming so clearly and naturally to me but now that I’m trying to articulate my thoughts, I can’t seem to get past this huge boulder blocking my way. And it’s really fucking annoying, to say the least. But I’ll keep trying.

Let me use some of the stuff I’ve been writing in my journal as prompts… In it I wrote a few days ago that one of my biggest fears, if not my worst one, is to lose (connection with) myself. Now I’ve put those two words in brackets because at its core, I think I’m generally just scared of losing myself. Which has a lot of other things attached to it. I’m scared of losing for even a moment what I’ve recently perceived as this heightened self-awareness I’ve somehow gained during lockdown. I’m scared of the thought of not progressing in my personal, career and spiritual growth. Of plateauing in even one of these departments.

When level 2 started and I was able to be in the presence of another being in close proximity again, I kind of felt weird. I missed solitude which I forget was always something I craved as an introvert wherever I can squeeze it in each day. Given that I had more moments of solitude than I’ve ever had in my whole life in the two months we were all forced to stay inside our homes, I got too comfortable with this new way of living. I woke up, checked my sleep quality, meditated, walked the dogs, made coffee, read Scriptures, did deep work for at least two hours (which was made possible by putting my phone on airplane mode), had proper sit-down lunches with my family, read for leisure and ran regularly. In retrospect, it was the best retreat I could’ve asked for. To top it all off, there was no real pressure coming from my manager on the project I was working on. All in all, it was a great time and I can’t express enough how grateful I am to have had that privilege. To actually experience work-life balance in its rawest form.

Hence why I think it was so fitting that I stumbled upon the novel A Gentleman in Moscow which centred around an excellent example of a man who lives an intentional and purposely unrushed life while under house arrest. Someone who genuinely enjoys life’s simple pleasures. “When all was said and done,” he argues, “the endeavours that most modern men saw as urgent . . . probably could have waited, while those they deemed frivolous (such as cups of tea and friendly chats) had deserved their immediate attention.”

But after a fulfilling day of experiencing the latter with Alyssa and Cullen, I got home and was suddenly hit by this familiar wave of guilt for not “working on something” at the moment. Although this growth mindset has served me well all my life, it has also impeded my ability to tune into the Now. In saying that, I feel like quarantine primed me for what's next. And I do feel like something new is coming. Not just for me but for all of us. Cullen felt and pointed it out too. While there have been a lot of challenging events that happened through the course of the year so far, the optimist in me can’t help but feel like something good can still come out of all of this. Of course there are also a lot of other layers to this feeling. Anxiety, dread, boldness, excitement, intimidation, glee, hope, determination, faith, fear, love, doubt. And it doesn’t just end there. It’s perpetual. Cyclical. Contradictory. Which is part of the human condition and brings me to this line in the aforementioned book:

“By their very nature, human beings are so capricious, so complex, so delightfully contradictory, that they deserve not only our consideration, but our reconsideration—and our unwavering determination to withhold our opinion until we have engaged with them in every possible setting at every possible hour.”

There’s a lot to learn and more importantly relearn. About humanity and society at large. The past and how we want to move forward and change for the better. Which is going to take a hell of a lot of work that doesn’t occur overnight. In the context of the Black Lives Matter movement, I’ve been seeing a lot of inspiring statements about showing up however we can and how being an ally to the oppressed can manifest in various ways. And if we think about it there is no point in fighting when the very goal is to support, respect and love each other. So I guess what I’m trying to do is echo Alyssa’s words on checking within ourselves first before we take action or impose anything on anyone else. To withhold judgment aimed towards another being since at the end of the day we’re all just One Body aren’t we? (Thanks to Alyssa and Cullz for bringing up this term yesterday)

I feel like I could say so much more but I’m no expert in social studies or anything for that matter so I’ve refrained from publicly speaking up. Alas, admitting ignorance is often the first and important step to gaining knowledge. Conversely, listening closely before speaking is integral to understanding. Two truths that I’m currently living by and trying to improve on.

with tender love and respect,

- p

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darkvalkyrie6 · 4 years

Text

Problem

I got my first prompt! ^^ I'm so happy XD The prompt is at the end of the story so no spoilers for now.

I didn't use any movies, books or series for inspiration, the story is my original work.

I hope you like it :)

It’s still just a story, like all of my other stores. It doesn’t have a deeper spiritual, moral or ethical meaning.

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Michael was standing at the bus station waiting for the bus to go to work. He forgot to plug in his phone list night, so it could charge and with no battery, he had nothing to do. He couldn’t check the news, surf the web, listen to music or play a game on his phone like the rest of the people around him so he just looked around, bored.

It was rush hour and there were a lot of cars and people on the street, but something caught his eye. Michael saw a kid around ten years old, wearing jeans, hoodie, hat and headphones. There was nothing strange about the kid except for the fact that he wasn’t in school. The kid, not paying attention, started crossing the road on a red light while cars were driving at full speed. Michael immediately leaped towards the kid, grabbed him by the hoodie and pulled him back to the sidewalk.

“Are you insane?! Didn’t you see the red light? What were you doing? You could have been dead by now.” Michael yelled at the kid.

The kid took off his headphones and said. “What?” His face was blank like nothing happened.

“Did you hear what I just said?” Michael asked.

“No, I was listening to music.” The kid said with a calm voice.

“Didn’t you see the red light when you were crossing the road? What were you doing? You could have died. I just saved your life.” Michael repeated.

“Is the red light bad?” The kid asked.

Michael looked at him confused and said. “Yeah, It is. You don’t cross the road when the light is red, you wait for it to turn green.”

“So red is bad and green is good.” The kid said calmly.

“Didn’t your parents teach you that?” Michael asked.

“No. Did you say you saved my life now?” The kid asked.

“Yeah, and a thank you would be welcome.” Michael said.

“Thank you. Because you saved me, I’m your problem now. I’m Demo.” The kid said.

“Ahm…I’m Michael, but that’s not how that works Demo. I saved you but now you go your own way and I go my own way. So go wherever you were going.” Michael said.

“No. You save me, and I’m your problem then. If you don’t like it, kill me. I would have been dead anyway. And I was just walking around.” Demo said.

“I can’t kill a child!” Michael said.

“Seems that I’m your problem then.” Demo said with a smile.

“Alright, but just until I find your parents.” Michael said. The bus arrived at the bus stop, they got on and headed to Michael’s workplace.

Security at the building Michael worked was thorough, so Michael was surprised when none of the security guards asked him about Domo or made him register Domo as a visitor. Michael thought the reason for that was because Domo was a kid and gave it no more thought. On the way to his office, his colleagues greeted him, but none of them mentioned Domo. That was weird because his colleagues were usually nosey people. Michael didn’t have the time or the energy to deal with them, so he and Domo headed straight for Michael‘s office.

“I have a lot of work to do, so Domo please just sit there on the couch and play with your phone.” Michael said.

“Yeah, no problem.” Domo said.

‘Something’s wrong with this kid. Kids his age aren’t usually that cooperative. What have I gotten myself into now?’ Michael thought, sat at his desk, turned on his computer and started to work. Michael had to finish his yearly report to the management, it wasn’t an easy task, he was only halfway done and the report was due tomorrow. He hoped that Domo wouldn’t be a big distraction.

As Michael was writing his report, he noticed Domo standing beside him. “I’m hungry.” Domo said.

Michael looked at his watch and said. “Lunch will be here in an hour. Can’t you wait until then?”

“I’m hungry now.” Domo said.

“Ok.” Michael said, took out his wallet and twenty bucks. “Here’s some money. Go to the store down the road and buy something to eat. Deal?”

“What weird money?” Domo said and left.

Michael saw Domo leave and got back to writing the report. Something didn’t add up with the numbers so he called the head of human resources to his office.

“Did I just see a kid come out of your office?” Gabriel the head of the human resources asked.

“Yeah, it’s a long story. It was a last-minute thing so I’m just watching him.” Michael said. “I’m having a problem with the numbers from the human resources department for my report. Look, this doesn’t’ add up Gabriel.”

Gabriel looked at the report and they worked out the numbers.

“Thanks for the help, Gabriel.” Michael said.

“No problem. Call me if you need help with the kid.” Gabriel said and left.

A few moments later Domo returned pissed as hell. Michael noticed that Domo was angry and asked. “What happened?”

“I did as you told me. I went down to the place with the food. I picked up things that looked nice and something to drink. I started eating and the owner started yelling at me. I told him that I have money and showed him the money you gave me, but he still yelled at me. I gave him the money and he threw me out on the streets like a common beggar.” Domo said angrily.

“What kind of behavior towards guests is that? Your culture is too weird. And that drink I took was sweet. How can you drink sweet water with your meals?” Domo asked bewildered.

“Wait… Wait… Wait. You at the food in the store?” Michael asked.

“Yes, I’m not some kind of lunatic to eat my food on the streets.” Domo said and Michael started rubbing his face with his palms. “You’re all barbarians.” Domo said pissed.

“Let me finish my work and I’ll explain later.” Michael said.

Michael finally finished the report, sent it to the management and they went home. The bus home was packed with people, Michael and Domo barely managed to find a seat. Domo sat next to the window and Michael next to the aisle. People on the bus looked at Michael with disapproving looks, but he didn’t know why. They finally arrived home and Domo immediately asked Michael where the food was.

“Just let me change my clothes and I’ll make us something to eat. I don’t have a change of clothes for you so I’ll give you one of my T-shirts. OK?” Michael said.

“Ok.” Domo said and sat on the couch in the living room.

Michael came out of his room, threw a T-shirt towards a Domo and asked. “Why didn’t you turn on the TV?”

“Did what to what?” Domo asked.

Michael grabbed the TV remote and turned on the TV. On the big screen in front of Domo people and objects appeared. Domo looked wide-eyed at the screen in front of him and said. “What in the hell?”

“What you didn’t see this movie? It’s an old one. You had to see it.” Michael said and went to the kitchen to make some food. Domo changed his clothes but he didn’t take off his hat. When Michael was done in the kitchen, he returned to the living room, found Domo in the same pose as he left him staring wide-eyed at the TV. He put food on the coffee table, a beer for himself and a glass of water for Domo, but Domo was just staring at the TV.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Michael asked.

Domo looked at him and then at the food and said. “Oh yeah, food.” He grabbed a portion and started to eat. Michael opened his beer and took a large sip.

“What are you drinking? It smells better than my water.” Domo said.

“Beer.” Michael said.

“Can I have one?” Domo asked.

“No, you can't. You’re not old enough.” Michael said.

“Pffff… Not old enough. You got to be kidding me.” Domo said.

“You’re like ten years old. You can’t have one, end of discussion.” Michael said.

While they were eating Michael thought more and more about all the bizarre things that happened today and that Domo did. He decided to ask Domo some questions to get to the bottom of this and to find out more about him so he can find his parents.

“Domo, why weren’t you in school in the morning?” Michael asked.

“I have no use for school.” Domo said.

“But you’re a kid, you have to go to school. Where are your parents?” Michael asked.

“Don’t have them. Never met them.” Domo said.

‘So he’s probably an orphan, but doesn’t explain the other things.’ Michael thought and said. “How come you didn’t know about crossing the road when the light was red?”

“I never saw that before. That’s a new thing.” Domo said.

“You see, you say stuff like that and that just confuses me. You are ten, or around ten years old, and don’t know what a red light is and that you don’t eat food in the store. I just don’t get it.” Michael said upset.

“Wait for a sec.” Domo said, all the lights started flickering in the room and the whole house suddenly went completely dark. When the lights came back on, there was a figure standing in front of Domo. The figure had a goat skull over his face with goat horn sticking out from it, black cloak, human skulls around his neck and a human skull with a spine in his right hand.

“How did you escape?” The figure asked Domo.

“I didn’t escape. I just left. You know that Abaddon is slow and old. Why are you here Rimmon?” Domo asked, removing his hat and showing his own horns.

“You have still not paid off your punishment. I came to take you back.” Rimmon said.

“I’ll come back when I get bored.” Domo said.

“That will not do. Even your presence here is disrupting the world of mortals. You must come back.” Rimmon said and pointed the skull towards Domo. The skull’s eyes started to shine and a very bright light hit Domo, but Domo just sat on the couch as if nothing happened.

“I told you, I’ll come back when I get bored. Besides, I’m somebody else’s problem right now. ” Domo said.

“But who will deal with disasters when you are gone?” Rimmon asked.

“Tell one of my generals to coordinate that. I know, let Asmodeus do it, he has the most experience.” Domo said.

“As you wish my lord.” Rimmon said, the room went dark again and when the lights came on the figure was gone.

“Sorry about that. They are so incompetent down there.” Domo said.

Michael was just sitting, frozen, looking at the horns on Domo’s head. Domo looked at him, saw that Michael was looking at his horns and said. “Yeah… I should probably explain.” Michael just slowly nodded.

“Now that you know that I’m not a kid. Can I have a beer?” Domo asked and Michael went to the kitchen and brought him a beer.

“This tastes good. So, I should probably start at the beginning.” Domo said, opened the beer and took a large sip.

“Most of your old religions are true in a way, but not in a literal way. The religions, as you see them now, actually started a long time ago. The new religions are complete bullshit, but the old ones are a mix of rewritten stories from the events that happened long ago in the past and stories that were happening right before humans were created. The rest is on you. The world wasn’t created in a few thousand years, the world is so much older. It went to a lot of periods of change where different beings were created until you, humans, were put here on Earth.” Domo scratched his head and took another sip of beer.

"I know I can tell you this because no one is going to believe you. My real name is not Domo, it’s Demogorgon and I’m essentially the exact opposite of what you call your god. You know that everything in nature has a balance. So do the things you call gods. Your god is god, he is a creator of things, but there has to be a balance and that’s where I come in. I’m an evil god, I’m in charge of the destruction of things. You following me?” Domo asked.

“Yeah… But you don’t look like a god of destruction. And why wouldn’t others believe me?” Michael said.

“Others wouldn’t believe you, because they couldn’t see me, only the people with the names of angels and demons can see me, the same as only angels and demons can see other angels and demons god and me. When you are named after an angel or demon you are protected by that angel or demon and have a droplet of their sight.” Domo explained and continued. ”And don’t let the looks fool you. You remember when Rimmon said that my punishment wasn’t over. Well, I tend to overreact sometimes. The first time I overreacted was when I was with Cleopatra and I found out that she was cheating on me with that big-nosed Mark Antony. I was so pissed at humans that I whipped out more than half of the people in Egypt.” Domo said.

“You almost destroyed a whole civilization because she was cheating on you?” Michael asked.

“It was all her fault. If she hadn’t cheated on me I wouldn’t overreact.” Domo said angrily. “But that wasn’t the reason they punished me. I stayed on Earth after that and moved to Italy. Their civilization was the most advanced at the time. There is no civilization in the Underworld, so I was curious and went to see what all the fuss was about. I heard that there was a beautiful place near the sea and a trading capital where you could buy everything your heart desires.” Domo said.

“When was that? After the thing with Cleopatra or later?” Michael asked.

“It was after Cleopatra. I had to get away from Egypt and all the drama about all the dead people. I liked Italy, the food, the wine, the women just everything was great. I headed towards the town the locals spoke so highly of and I can tell you it really was a beautiful city. The city was a wealthy town, had many villas, luxurious private houses with lavish decorations and public baths. Even their money was beautiful. I found a place to stay and stayed there for a couple of years.” Domo said remembering all the beautiful things.

Michael looked at him suspiciously.

“One day I was at the market looking for black cloth, I needed for a ritual. I went from vendor to vendor looking for the cloth but couldn’t find any. Black cloth at that time was rare. I lost a whole week looking for black cloth and I got pissed. At first, I just caused an earthquake and not a lot of people died. I realized that I overreacted again and tried to calm down. The next day I went to the market again and searched for the black cloth again. I had to perform the ritual or else I would have to go back to the Underworld. I was already two thousand years on Earth, but with the ritual, I could stay another thousand years. So you see why I needed it?”

“Yeah, but why do you like Earth so much?” Michael asked.

“Because I can do what I want here, not what the old farts in Underworld want me to do. Besides, I think you humans are hilarious. Think of it like being on vacation.” Domo said with a smug smile. “God really did a number on you.”

“Hey! We are not as bad as you think!” Michael said.

“I didn’t say that. Let’s get back to why I’m punished. Back at the market, there was no black cloth and the woman who was talking to me tried to sell me a dark blue one saying that the shade is nearly the same as the black cloth. That’s when I lost it and you probably know what happened. I thought that it was just going to be another earthquake but the volcano erupted with such a mighty force that the lava killed all the people in the city of Pompeii in minutes.” Domo said laughing nervously. “With my vacation time up and two massacres in a hundred years, the Underworld decided to ban me from coming to earth for at least four thousand years. Abaddon locked me in his bottomless pit and they left me there.” Domo said, sitting with his hands crossed, sulking.

“So how and why did you get out?” Michael asked.

“Well, I am a god. I just walked out. The last time I was on Earth there was around two hundred million people on Earth and now there’s seven billion of you. I was curious about how you managed that in two thousand years. But all I see on Earth now is chaos, like in the Underworld.”

“It can’t be that bad.” Michael said.

“No, it’s not. You humans still have a sense of humor.” Domo said and drank the rest of his beer.

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First things first. I would like to say thank you to the person who gave me the prompt. The prompt is:

"You saved my life, so now I'm your problem. If you don't like it, then kill me."

I had so much fun with thinking about what to write and how to incorporate the prompt into my story, so thank you :)

Thanks for reading :)

Every comment is welcome

#tw implied mass murder #tw demons #gods #slice of life #demons #fantasy #original work

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