#shagreen night stands

[bewitchingbritain]

Bedroom - Brick Idea for a medium-sized, contemporary master bedroom with white walls, a brick wall, and a medium-toned wood floor.

[mildlyinterestingadventures]

Contemporary Bedroom An illustration of a medium-sized modern master bedroom with white walls, a brick wall, a medium-tone wood floor, and no fireplace.

[nothingofvaluewaslost]

STORY: The Silhouette Pine

A short story. After her grandmother’s death, Jennifer is distraught at the thought of the house she remembers from happy childhood holidays being sold. However, when she tries to convince her mother to hand the house to Jennifer and her boyfriend, she stumbles upon something much darker from her past.

Not horror (or anything supernatural), but quite dark.

As usual, if you enjoyed it, feel free to check out my Patreon.

The Silhouette Pine

By Christina Nordlander

By the time they got back from the funeral buffet, it had started drizzling. Mum parked behind grandma's pale yellow VW. Jennifer looked out at the back window and saw only the reflection of their bonnet. She and Joakim had been in the back seat when grandma drove them into the city. If she focused she would feel the smell of tobacco smoke and leather, so old it had become something concrete and grainy.

She got out and hurried her steps to be close to mum in case she needed someone to support her. It wasn't necessary, and dad was next to her. Mum walked with her head a bit bowed, but there was nothing weak in the outline of her face.

Joakim had run ahead up the garden steps, two sets of steps with a flagged landing in the middle where Jennifer had slipped and busted her lip one winter. She couldn't remember the pain, just that uncle Gunnar had joked with dad that she'd been in a fight and that they should have seen the other guy.

Grandma had come to the door and hugged her every time they'd gone here: shorter than herself the last few years, with woollen scarves in warm colours around her shoulders when it was the least bit cold, perfumed with a stronger version of the scent that was diffused through the house. (Mum was still going to have to feel it, though the body that had walked around in its centre was gone.) It was too easy to deal with when it was a relative you'd only met on the holidays. She'd been old and it had been quick. The last time Jennifer had met her, last Easter, she'd been happy. She'd asked how the dissertation was coming along. Jennifer hadn't brought her notes, but she'd talked about viruses and horizontal gene transfer like an enthusiastic little kid showing off a shell collection, and grandma had said that she was doing well.

*

There was nothing special about the size or architecture of the house, though the basement had been exciting when she was little: it was a largish terraced house, single storey, with a flat black tin roof and a little atrium covered with a wooden deck. The price was probably mainly due to the location, close to Djursholm with its fenced harbours on Framnäs Bay.

She got her chance when she went to make some tea. Mum was sitting at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper in a circle of light. Outside the windows was nothing but blackness.

“You want a cup of tea?” Jennifer said.

“That's nice of you, honey. Lapsang, please.”

Grandma hadn't had an electric kettle. She poured water in the smallest pan and waited for it to boil. It was soothing, standing in the light and watching the bubbles starting to form on the reflecting bottom.

“You sure I can't have the house?” she said while they waited. “That way, it'll stay in the family. It's about the right size for Bayram and me, and I wouldn't have to stay with his family any more.”

Mum sighed.

“It's not that simple,” she said without looking at her. “We can't just give the house away. It would have to be taken up with mother's attorney. Besides, you wouldn't be able to pay the tax on a house like this. The two of you don't even have jobs.”

When Jennifer didn't say anything she went on:

“You can always go and check if there are any books you'd like. All that stuff we’re allowed to take, movable assets.”

It was enough. Perhaps she should have asked more, to find out whether there was a loophole. Bayram would have liked to live here, he'd barely been to Stockholm. They could have continued studying up here.

The water had started bubbling. She put the teacup by mum's elbow and took her own into the living-room.

When she was little, it had used to confuse her that grandma's house had two living-rooms: the small one with the TV – dad and Joakim were in there now watching something with mum's siblings – and the long room that took up the better part of the house. Now she could think of it as a library. One wall was covered in books, soft leather spines with deep gold print. Across the room was a French window on the atrium, lit beneath the clear black sky.

Of course she shouldn't have brought it up with mum today. She hadn't had much of a choice; in two days they were going home. They were selling the house. If one of mum's relatives had wanted to keep it she would have understood.

It wasn't the wealthy suburb. It wasn't the ornaments that grandma had moved out of reach for her and Joakim when they were too small to trust their strong flabby hands: vases in ribbed grey-green celadon, porcelain shepherdesses trimmed with lace so fine you might think it was fabric until you touched it. Over there, on the little sewing table by the atrium door, there had been a box with a surface that looked like a mosaic of sliced pearls, but grandma had said that it was made of shagreen, sharkskin. The box wasn't there now. Gunnar or Ulla must already have packed it.

She wouldn't have asked to keep any of the ornaments. Not even the books, though they would have been harder to say no to: a collection of La Fontaine's fables with Classicist copperplates, a Mucha catalogue, a book with colour reproductions of William Blake's art that had given her nightmares when she was a kid. She put the cup on the coffee table, took out the Blake book and sat down on the puffy plush couch where she'd used to sit and read when they came here, maybe with a bag of travel candy next to her. Was that the one she should pick? After the conversation she hardly wanted to take anything, but should she lose the things she had a right to because she felt ashamed?

When mum walked past towards the TV room, Jennifer looked up.

“You know, you're coping well,” she said. “I wish I were as tough as you.”

Mum lit up, faintly.

“I wouldn't say it's strength, Jennifer honey,” she said. “I've had a lot of time to prepare.”

She went in there herself later, because the room was lit and warm with people, with Joakim leaning on his elbows on the carpet.

She sat at the left end of the couch, closest to the window, and her gaze slipped outside and across the road. On the other side of the lampposts lay the forest. It was a block of darkness against the paler sky, but one higher pine leant sideways from some storm, before she was born. It was the sigil of grandma's house. Nowhere else did the forest have the same outline.

*

The next afternoon she went for a walk. It was November, raw and wet rather than cold. They'd used to go here for the Christmas and February breaks when the cold scorched, and dad had made a fire when she and Joakim came back from sledging. She'd sat in front of it, her back to the darkness in the window.

She tried walking as far as she could in the direction of Stockholm proper, but of course she hadn't got far before darkness fell and she had to turn back to be on time for supper.

On the way home she looked for the pine on the forest edge and found it after a while. She put her hand on the deeply ridged bark that had grown chilly like metal. When she looked across the road, all the windows were lit in yellow.

She had a quick immature impulse to stay here by the foot of the pine until she froze to death or they let her stay. It was too melodramatic, for the sake of a house.

*

Dad had impressed them with chicken Kiev and panna cotta for dessert, and it was her turn to wash up. Mum stayed next to her to dry the crystal glasses. It wasn't much past six o'clock, but it was winter, already night. Tomorrow she would wake in the room with the sofa-bed for the last time.

“I guess there's still no chance.”

She tried to make her voice jocular, but it just sounded high-pitched. Mum's profile was hidden by a band of dark hair while she dried the last glass.

“No, I don't see why you think you have a right to it, after what you did to your brother.”

It was too absurd. Jennifer couldn't get angry.

“What do you mean? What did I do to Joakim?”

She'd already started searching for memories: when she'd told on him for calling a classmate something foul, when she ran off while he was babysitting her and dad had given him a telling-off. None of that merited mum's tone.

“It wasn't Joakim,” mum said.

Her voice was so choked, Jennifer could barely make out the words.

“What do you mean, then?”

Perhaps she shouldn't have insisted, not when someone's voice sounded like that.

“No, Jennifer,” mum said, “don't you worry about that. I shouldn't have said anything.”

“Seriously, I didn't mean to... Forget the house, of course I don't need a house, but what do you mean about my brother?”

“I said I shouldn't have said anything!”

Mum's voice tore on the last words. She hurried out of the kitchen, a bit crouched.

She needed to finish washing up. There were a lot of dishes, they'd been seven. After a few minutes, the work and the repetitive motions had returned her to some state of calm.

While she was rinsing out the sink she heard footsteps in the door. She turned her head and managed a smile, in case it was mum, but it was dad coming to top up his beer. He grinned.

“Thanks, Jennifer. You do a good job.”

When she asked, it sounded abrupt.

Dad's shoulders sagged.

“For starters, I want you to know that it wasn't your fault,” he began. “You were just a little kid.”

*

She’d known that she'd had a brother who'd died in childhood. He'd never been more than a name and brown hair on some pictures in the photo album. For a while in primary school she'd been afraid of telling people about him, because then they would find out that she didn't feel anything.

If it had happened a year later, she might have remembered. She could remember things from when she was five.

It had happened in another set of garden stairs, in the old terraced house they had moved out of afterwards. It hadn't even been in the winter, slippery with ice. She'd been four years old, Alvar two. Joakim had been in his room or out playing, he wasn't in the story. Alvar hadn't dared to walk down the stairs, so she'd held his hands and walked behind and over him like a sensible older sister.

Perhaps she'd told him he wasn't allowed to walk down the stairs by himself.

They'd come running out when they heard her screaming. She'd sat crying on the stairs and at first they'd thought she was the one who had fallen.

Quick blinks of sunlight. When he tripped, his little hand slipped in hers and she didn't dare to grab it in case she tore his shoulder joint. Or was that the twenty-one-year-old Jennifer trying to reconstruct it? She thought she could remember the sun and the tarmac below the steps, but nothing else.

“We called the hospital,” Dad said, shrugging. “He hung on for a few days, but there wasn't a lot they could do.”

Her breath had become loud in her ears. She looked down at her hands. They were a grown woman's hands, probably with some scars she hadn't had then, but it was the same flesh, the same skeleton.

“I didn't know,” she said at last.

Dad nodded his heavy head.

“It wasn't right of Yvonne to tell you,” he said. “Especially like that. You can't be held responsible.”

He supported himself on the tabletop, standing up. Jennifer looked up.

“Is it OK if I have a glass of wine?”

It was one of the few times she'd had a drink – the first time she'd drunk for intoxication. The wine had an acrid fruity flavour that clung to her teeth. She took several quick gulps, because otherwise she might smell blood in her nasal cavity.

She hadn't known Alvar. She didn't remember, and yet it had been she. The moment she thought she would make it, that she would be fine, she remembered a birthday card that Joakim had sent while he was studying in Lund. It had said To the best sister.

She took another gulp. It was intended as an anaesthetic, but they only had that one bottle of dark wine. She hadn't felt anything yet, except that emotions became harder to resist. If this went on, she would be too weak to cope.

By the time she put the glass on the sink she couldn't feel any effect on her senses. She went into the bedroom and took her coat and hat. Everything around her was warm and cocooned. Her skin sucked up the warmth, and yet she didn't stay. The debit card lay stiff in her coat pocket. When she zipped up the coat, she smelled the soap from grandma's bathroom on her hands.

She walked down the steps in the orange light of the lamp on the garage wall. It wasn't raining, but the asphalt was glittering wet.

There was a bus-stop further up Svalnäs Allé. She glanced up at the timetable: a little under fifteen minutes to go. That was almost too much, but the coat was warm and she could pull her hands into the sleeves. She'd read once that alcohol thinned the blood and made it easier to freeze to death. She wouldn't die as long as she was standing up.

The wine had made all perceptions slower. Perhaps you died because you didn't care as much about the cold. It was going to get colder. Sweden was spinning towards the heart of February, with dry paving-stones and a cold that made you pant and forced you to the ground like some religious visitation.

Perhaps they'd heard when she opened the front door, but nobody came for her. Across the road the windows shone yellow, the light that meant home.

The bus braked and lowered itself with a sighing noise. The heat was wondrous on her skin when she got in, like sitting in front of a fire. The bus set itself rolling, towards the city, and she left them.

THE END

[zonadesigner]

✔16 exciting luxurious bedrooms ideas for extraordinary place to sleep

Then swap out of your present night-stand for you using a luxurious complete -- even mirror or shagreen can be actually just really a huge choice. A subtler route would be always to pick a slice such as for example brass or crystal, with components that is reflective. #bedroom #bedroomdesign #bedroomideas #bedroomdecoratingideas #bedroomdecorideas #bedroominspo #bedroompaintcolors #bedroomgoals #bedroomstorageideas

[matthiaslenz778-blog]

Enduring Thanksgiving Supper By J Gardener In Household Worries At Isnare.com Free Contents.

A functional technique to partake in Xmas goodies, for example, is to replace some vacation cookies for state the bagel that you typically possess with breakfast or for a mid-morning snack food. Among the most effective supper celebrations I ever attended was actually tossed through a married couple which had actually piled folding table against their home kitchen table, thrown a white fabric over all, and brought up a range of chairs chosen from all around your home as well as outdoor patio. The enigma supper must last 2 1/2 hrs yet if you wait over drinks, food items as well as desert; the event can easily go all night if you desire. If you do certainly not intend to go that opulent you can possibly do u an exciting supper in the house as well as add in some chocolate covered strawberries for dessert while sipping her favored beverage through candlelight. The absolute most traditional, professional footwear to put on along with a supper satisfy is actually the black shagreen opera pump or court footwear. Exactly what takes place between one unique event Fitandstrenght4u.Info of blooms as well as supper as well as the next event is what matters the best. Arrange for a lovely, candlelit dinner at the countryside along with c and w. Just what else you'll have to serve supper: The 6 Sis utilize Cafe Rio pork in sandwiches, burritos, quesadillas, as well as tossed salads. While they are actually more difficult to undergo compared to just about anything online, they are still good information for dishes for supper.

Basically, just like the name mentions, you choose a cleaning company to find in and also clean up your home and you tap the services of a food caterer to cook supper; also quick and easy. Individuals plan months ahead of time for the Christmas season-whether to acquire the right gift or even to ready the right food for the excitedly awaited X-mas dinner. Begin today by getting a free of charge menu organizing essentials state at Watch for a great dish organizing deal as well as allow me - The Food selection Mama - aid you deal with supper tonight! However the supper additionally attracts an annual carolers of condemnation off doubters who claim that laughing and partying along with sources is not conducive to powerful journalism. At times you might locate that if you oversleep on a Sunday early morning and have your breakfast late (i.e. when you will typically have your mid-morning meal), by evening you may still be starving despite the fact that you have possessed a considerable dinner. Later on in the 19th century, chefs and servers permitted the well-off to host splendid dinner parties along with extravagant foods that lasted properly right into the evening. If you locate that this is happening to you, an easy means to beat this is actually to just consume half a punnet from strawberries after supper. SunDance Catering gives clean, ingenious food for breakfast, lunch, dinner and also unique private affairs. Due to the fact that they are sentimental from Dolly and also prefer she stands for, people go to the Dolly Dinner Reveals--. Some dark sesame seeds for garnish as well as this simple dinner dish is actually full in under TWENTY mins off starting to end. Then, the evening prior to Thanksgiving, you only grab your dinner at the retail store, and on the wedding day you just put your chicken in the oven-it comes comprehensive with cooking instructions-pop your pumpkin cake in the microwave, and when Mother and father arrive, your home odors like you have actually been actually cooking for days. You could have a number of benefits when you dine in the house, initially, you are certain that you and also your pals are eating tasty but well-balanced foods; 2nd, you may conserve a big quantity from your purse due to the fact that this is substantially more affordable when you create your food; 3rd, you can easily create your supper with your personal creative style, where fulfilling to your edge particularly if your good friends cherish your effort.

[andrews-story]

Chapter Sixteen

Ethan looked to his old friend Andrew as they were charging in. The feeling of his hands tightly around the shagreen leather. His fast steps, his quick breaths. Knowing that Carine and Hugo, and all his other teammates were right behind him. Having a quest, fighting an evil, the rush, the serenity. This feeling, it was the best feeling in the world.

Ethan swung against Catherine’s shots, bouncing them off. Andrew attacked from the right. Rapid fire. A shot hit Ethan in the leg. It didn’t slow him down, it was a part of what he loved.

He missed being a hero. Oh, he missed it so much. Not for the glory, not for the thanks. Not for anything but the adventure, the thrill, and the purpose. That journey he went on ten years ago was the best time of his life.

When he first took his little wooden sword, and snuck into the forest, dreaming to be a fighter, a hero, he got beat up by a monster. But before the monster could eat him, young Emily jumped in and killed it.

“Hey.” She helped him up.

“Hey.”

“You’re probably wondering what I’m doing alone in the forest.” She said.

That thought hadn’t crossed his mind at all. Ethan was in awe at how she fought. Not to mention, he was a child alone in the forest too.

“Do you know how I can get to the Kingdom of Landia from here?” She asked.

“Yeah, that’s where I live. I’ll show you how to sneak past the gate guard.” Ethan brought Emily to the edge of the fence, about twenty metres away from the main gate. The gates were tall and strong, even a thousand bulls wouldn’t be able to break through. But it was just wide enough for the two children to squeeze between the posts. Ethan took Emily to his friends to introduce them.

“So, you’re not from our town? Where’d you come from then?” Hugo asked.

Emily was a bit shy with talking about herself. “There was a small village, it was pretty far from here, but it…. It burned down about four months ago.”

“What?” Carine asked, hanging onto her every word.

“Yeah. It-it took my family. I’m here for a fresh start.”

“That’s crazy! You can stay with us if you want.” Carine offered.

“No, that’s not necessary. Some of the other survivors gave me enough gold to buy a place here and sort myself out.”

“Other survivors? Where are they now?” Hugo asked.

“They’re trying to build a new village from the ground up. They named it after some bird I guess.”

“Teach us how to fight!” Said Ethan, who was impatiently waiting to interject the whole time. After some convincing, Emily agreed. She taught them how to throw punches, kicks, and how to properly wield a sword. Carine found it a little hard to follow, but she had a great time nonetheless. After they were all tired, and Emily left to find a place, the three walked back to their homes together.

“Why do you want to learn how to fight anyways?” Carine asked.

“It just feels like what I want to do.” Ethan said.

Carine looked to Hugo. “I have idea what he’s on about either.” Hugo said.

Ethan went to bed that night dreaming before he was even asleep. He wanted to be a hero, he wanted to go on a journey. He just needed a villain. As if god had answered his prayers, Catherine showed up in town the next morning.

Ethan and Andrew attacked Catherine in turns, but it didn’t seem to do much. Perhaps she used a spell to make herself stronger. This wasn’t nearly as easy as the first time.

When Catherine first arrived at the Kingdom of Landia, she was seized by guards at the town gates and brought to the King and Queen where she told her sob story about the burned down village. Despite King Jason’s concerns, the compassionate Queen decided to take her in. The King went along with it, knowing that she was having a hard time because their son Justin had been sent to live with the young duchess Grace in Airia for some time now. This might help her cope. 

Catherine had her own room in the castle, it was the room they were in right now, fighting her. She was thankful of the Queen at first, but she couldn’t help but fall in love with the King. Hearing everyone talk about how kind the Queen was, seeing her be with the King like that, she couldn’t help but lash out.

Catherine forced Ethan away mid-swing. Andrew knocked her onto her knees. Ethan recovered and gave a hearty strike to Catherine’s side.

Ethan still remembered waking up to townspeople yelling. He pushed passed the crowd and saw the poster on the shop window. Queen Justine was missing. As horrible as it was, Ethan was excited. He finally had his quest, his adventure.

After meeting Andrew and Jady, after meeting Merl-Bob, finding out about Catherine, they went to the castle. The guards didn’t let them in, didn’t believe their story. They were just kids after all. To their luck, they met Anna, a young knight in training. Anna believed in their cause, and liked Carine, and decided to help them through the castle. When they ran into the King, he had no choice but to follow them in search for his wife. They found her crudely chained up, the beautiful Queen Justine. Cut up, then mended together just to be cut up again. The cruel torture of the Torturess Catherine. King Jason was horrified, in shock, probably traumatized for life. Seeing the King this way hurt Catherine too. She wanted Queen Justine to be hurt, not Jason, she couldn’t stand it. She shouted something.

“Close your eyes!” Andrew commanded.

There was a flash of light. Catherine erased her. To the rest of the world, it was like Queen Justine had never existed. No one outside of that room remembers there ever being a Queen of Landia. Sometimes King Jason would be unsure if there was either, and slipped into madness. The King banished Catherine away, the clerics shielded the kingdom from her presence.

Catherine was on the floor. She shot out a string of magic bullets, giving her time to pick herself back up. Ethan dodged them. One hit Andrew in the waist, knocking him down. Ethan swung at her. There was an opening. He hesitated. This, this was the end. Once this battle’s over, this journey is too, his being a hero. This was likely his last adventure. It has to end, but. Just a little bit longer.

Catherine blasted him away.