samedi 30 avril 2016

tha thinks it is. An’ tha canna ma’e it horrid. Dunna fret thysen about lovin’ me.

Hi,
Here are some words from the novel Lady Chatterley's Lover( page 253, chapter 12) by Lawrence (planetebook):

She wept bitterly, sobbing. ‘But I want to love you, and I can’t. It only seems horrid.’
He laughed a little, half bitter, half amused.
‘It isna horrid,’ he said, ‘even if tha thinks it is. An’ tha canna ma’e it horrid. Dunna fret thysen about lovin’ me. Tha’lt niver force thysen to ‘t. There’s sure to be a bad nut in a basketful. Tha mun ta’e th’ rough wi’ th’ smooth.

I now rephrase the part in red: thou(=tha) thinks it is. And thou(=tha) cannot make it horrid. Don't fret yourself(=thysen) about loving me. thou ought not(=tha'lt) force yourself to do it(=to't).……thou must(=mun) take the rough with the smooth.

Am I right please?
Thank you in advance

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tha thinks it is. An’ tha canna ma’e it horrid. Dunna fret thysen about lovin’ me.

Full Price

"Absolutely no discounts, refunds, reductions, trade-ins, bartering, financing, split-payments, holdings or anything except precisely the tag value of the item will be accepted. Cash preferred, no credit or debit. Written check is okay with two forms of identification so long as you have a long-standing account with us. Half a year required with more than $2000.00 in purchases." I said to the young woman wearing a sexy red skirt and revealing pink and white blouse.

She leaned in on the counter, sliding her dyed leather purse to the side and looked closer into my eyes. I swallowed nervously, trying not to appear weakened with her allure. The frilly lace of the top arch of her bra barely revealed itself as she leaned.

I was standing sideways with my right elbow and forearm on the counter. The doorbell jangled out a short melody when the young woman's greedy hold on my attention and I stood up straight and looked at the customer as he opened the door. I said, "Thank you for visiting. Please come again." The customer didn't reply as he left.

A man and a woman, presumably married, were intently checking out a medieval Czech trunk. The woman was inserting the primitive key into the padlock that was set beside the trunk on a cloth. I returned my attention to the young woman at the counter with me.

She was probably in her mid-twenties, not much younger than I at thirty. She wore no ring and appeared with the way she dressed fully available.

The item in question was a very well preserved unused sketchbook made in the 1910s. Seventy pages of thick paper bound in a threaded shellac glazed thin cardboard cover. Except for a solo nick on the sketchbooks' spine along with a stain left behind when a coaster apparently couldn’t be found, the item was in near-perfect condition. The sketchbook was a rare item and possibly the oldest unused sketchbook in existence. All the pages had square corners and no creases. You could very well use the sketchbook as if you bought it recently and not discern that it was actually over a century old.

The young woman lifted the sketchbook in her hands. We both looked down at it. She guided my attention to the gold leaf lettering along the bottom edge of the cover with her dainty finger, saying, "What does KTI7 mean?"

I replied, "Well, the lettering wasn't added during the manufacturing process. My guess is a number of these sketchbooks were bought in bulk then the owner had them serial marked. Perhaps there's another six of these sketchbooks. If there are, then this one could be the extra one. What KTI7 means I wouldn't say for sure but it might be the initials of the artist who owned it or the codename of what project the artist was working on at the time. It could've been used in a business venture of some sort where sketch artists are required.

I smoothly retreived the sketchbook out of her hands into my own. I tilted the sketchbook into the light and ran my finger along the gold leaf lettering, saying, "As you can see, the lettering was pressed deep enough that it has made an obvious relief in the cover. You can feel it right away. At least a millimeter deep."

The young woman touched the relief as I showed her. Our fingers both briefly brushed alongside each other and a jolt of surprise crackled my nerves. The sexual tension nearly overwhelmed my professionality. She seemed amused and well aware of my tension.

"$770.00 seems steep for a sketchbook. Your Shakespeare volume is $400.00 and it's a hundred years older than this skinny thing." The young woman said. "You would think Shakespeare would out-price an empty book. Certainly since the Shakespeare was hand-crafted and this sketchbook was made on a production line."

"Well, you see," I answered her, handing her the sketchbook. She lowered it slowly onto the counter, straightened herself up, then grabbed her purse. "This sketchbook is much rarer than that Shakespeare volume, and historically, being an early relic of the industrial revolution, it's quite possibly the only one left in existence of it's kind. The condition of being so well preserved and the quality of it's manufacture also factor into the steep price."

She slid her purse strap onto her shoulder, saying, "Okay, I will return shortly with the cash. I will need to go to an ATM. Could you hold this sketchbook for me while I go retreive the money? I won't be away for too long."

I answered, "Yes. I can make an exception for you this once. I will prepare the item while you retreive your funds. Would you like a box or a bag?"

She replied, "A box would be fine."

She looked at her watch.

I asked her, "Might I ask your name, miss?"

"Noelle. Noelle Jensen." She said enthusiastically. "And you?"

"Wentworth Addington." I answered. "Noelle is a beautiful name, a name that serves your attraction well."

She smiled at the compliment and said, "Thank you Wentworth, I will return shortly. Hold on to my sketchbook."

"Of course." I said.

She casually made her way to the door then left. The doorbell jangled out it's short melody again.

I set myself upon the task of preparing the item for sale. The man and woman who were checking out the Czecken trunk were now slowly walking the aisles of the small items section where random interests of value were shelved on display.

I owned the building and controlled 100% of my business all alone. I alone saw every transaction through that ever occured there. I approved all the merchandise personally and I alone stocked the floor. Item appraisal was a task that I outsourced to an auction house that also on occasion sold off some of my items when I thought they wouldn't sell individually. I preferred to maintain a steady circulation of merchandise, unlike other businesses who would let items sit on the shelves years at a time. Return customers who frequented my business would tell me that they liked that I made so many new items available so often.

When preparing the sketchbook for sale in it's box was nearly done a hunchbacked old man came thumping through the door. His hair was long and stringy grey, appearing as if he combed it but it got messy on his way there. His thick wool overcoat hung off his figure like a drab blanket. The top button was missing. He hobbled his way to the counter, his cane tapping dully on the tile floor.

I turned my head as I fastened the lid onto the box, saying, "What can I do for you, sir?"

The old hunchback got flustered and pointed his cane at me. He spat his words as though a hot coal was alight in his belly. I half-expected smoke to seep from his ears. "Absolutely no C! C is for grabbing, sneaky, need, lazy dum-dums whose hands, if permitted to remain attached, would put us all out of business for a cheap cash-in. Sell us out for a muffin and dirty wine they would. Don't C a thing! Do you understand me? No C!"

I put the box on a table behind the counter. I cleared my throat, surprised at the crazy old hunchback, not knowing how to respond to him.

"Sir, I don't understand what you could be alluding to. If you need medical attention I will swiftly request an ambulance for you." I said to him calmly.

"You fool!" The old hunchback shouted, "I don't need an ambulance! Don't you know who I am?!"

The old hunchback put his cane to the floor once more and lowered his voice. He said, "I am Relmbao Tojolirr." He puffed out his chest with pride.

I was silent.

He seemed quick with irritation. "You fool! Does my name not excite you? Don't you care who I am? You should be impressed that I graced your pithy business with my ostensible charm."

I raised an eyebrow and replied, "No sir, your name does not precede you here. Would you care to enlighten me?"

"What year is it?" He asked with a sudden worry in his voice.

"2016." I answered. "You look dressed for a play. I would say you look like an actor who got incorrect directions. Would you like assistance finding an item you've been searching for? As you can see I sell a wide variety of merchandise. For a finder's fee I can usually acquire special items not in stock."

The old hunchback shook his head vigorously then said loudly, "What?! 2016!? You don't say."

The man and woman who were browsing my merchandise walked up to the counter past the old hunchback who fell silent. The old hunchback wandered off in thought.

The man said, "We would like to purchase that trunk on display. Could you tell us about it?"

I replied, "Ah, yes. Quite the item, that trunk. Made in the Czeck Republic in 1674, it once contained the clothing and effects of a noblewoman who brought it with her to America. The trunk became a family heirloom that was passed through the centuries until it was sold to a museum before the turn of the 20th century. The museum, spring cleaning it's inventory, decided to let it go and I acquired it at auction three months ago. The trunk was restored in the care of the museum. The padlock and key are the original set that were purchased for the trunk in 1674. In fair condition, it has been used far beyond the number of years intended when it was assembled. Trunks like this one were common through medeival times as a majority of house owners considered them mandatory. Usually covered with blankets or some other cloth item, they would double as a chair during the daytime. Because of the sturdiness of their construction many trunks have made it through the centuries. They are quite collectible and are a frequently sought item."

The woman asked, "Are there matching items of the same lot, maybe furniture or utensils? Anything that the same smith built, or was that trunk part of a set?"

I answered, "Not that I know of. That trunk is unique. A brand with the builder's mark is burned into the bottom, reading E.H. 1674."

The man retreived his wallet and said, "We want it."

"Good for you, sir." I said to him. "That really is a nice trunk. I sold others like it before and I personally own one built in 1700s New York."

The man and woman both smiled.

I said, "Would you like it covered or do you have space inside your vehicle for it?"

"No cover." Said the woman. "We have our own blankets we can use."

I wrote out a sales receipt for the trunk then counted the cash that the man handed to me. "$1120.00" I said. "And what is your name, sir?" I asked.

"You can write the receipt out to Joe & Mary Evergreen." He said.

I asked them to sign the sales receipt then I tore off their portion of it. I put the payment in the safe.

"Alright." I said, "Thank you very much for your business. Would you like me to dolly the trunk ou to your vehicle for you?"

Joe answered, "Yes. That would be fine."

I wheeled the dolly around the corner then accompanied them to their trunk. Joe and I carefully set the trunk on the padded dolly forks. I headed to the door with them out ahead of me.

I said loudly as we neared the door and the doorbell jangled, "I will return shortly Mr. Tojolirr!" The old hunchback didn't seem to notice. He was standing at a window while he stared blankly out at the traffic, deep in thought.

Several minutes passed before I returned, wheeling the dolly behind the counter. The old hunchback hadn't flinched.

"Sir, if you aren't here in the interest of business I will have to ask you kindly to leave." I told the old hunchback firmly.

"Don't you use that short tone with me boy!" The old hunchback exploded, pointing his cane at me again.

He said, "What is K?! K is for Kick! And T?! T isn't a word, T is an idea!" He took short steps towards me, holding his cane up with a shaky hand. "Don't you know?!" He blurted out hastily.

"Sir, I know that you are not well and I will ask you kindly again to leave before extensive measures are required to do so."

"Letters aren't merely symbols for the eyes!" His voice was now higher and less certain than before. "Letters have secondary meanings! If you learn them like I learned them, you will become as I!"

I nearly laughed at his nonsensical chatter, saying, "I'm sure I would. Pardon me for not getting my advice from a Scrabble board, but your banter is suited for the nuthouse, not a business of esteemed repute. Are you going to leave?"

The old hunchback quit coming closer. The doorbell jangled as Ms. Jensen entered. The old hunchback turned his head to see her, his cane extended in his shaky hand. Ms. Jensen halted when she saw him. She looked at him then me then him again, not sure what to make of what she saw.

She said, "What have we here?"

I replied, "He's not well in the head and I'm preparing to have him taken away."

The old hunchback exclaimed abruptly, "What is R?! R is for Right! L is for Left!"

Ms. Jensen shrank a little at the old hunchback's disturbance. "Acronyms." She said plainly in a concerned tone. She furthered herself away from the old hunchback, freeing up the space to the door.

The old hunchback pointed his cane at her, "Don't you get clever with me, lady!" He shouted. "A is number 1, first, priority, the alpha! B is A's leech, always in the way, always confusing things! B is for Beside, A is for All!" The sneer in his throat was turning vile.

Ms. Jensen furthered her distance to the old hunchback and came closer to me.

"Alright." I said loudly, "This has gone far enough."

I took a step out onto the floor with a taser in my left hand. I pressed the taser button and it made a daring zap sound. The old hunchback lowered his cane.

"That's right." I said calmly. "Now leave, peacefully."

I pressed the taser button again. The zap made the old hunchback jump. He made his way to the door. He didn't say another word. The doorbell jangled and he was soon gone.

"I'm sorry for the disturbance, Noelle. That sort of interruption hasn't happened before."

She instantly warmed up to me and came to the counter. She said, "Odd look about him, were those clothes something else or what?!"

"Yes. He was certainly out there." I said.

There was a short interval of silence. We looked at each other without a word. It was eternity adrift in her eyes. I drummed my fingers on the counter and broke the silence.

"Well." I said. "Your sketchbook is boxed and ready for you."

She shivered unexpectedly, catching us both off keynote. I felt a bewildering turn deep in my stomache and it felt as if my nerves were being soaked with a thick frequency. I likened it to the gelatin-like wobbliness of magnets repelling each other. I raised an eyebrow. She shrugged.

"You ever get the heeby-jeebies like you're suddenly in the twilight zone?" Ms. Jensen asked.

"You know what." I answered. "I was born for the twilight zone. I swear not a week goes without some off-kilter oddity that can't be explained. It does though, like you said, it does seem one of those off-moments."

I retrieved Ms. Jensen's purchase and set it before her on the counter. I said, "I can gift wrap it if you'd like. If that's what you're getting it for."

"No. I like it the way it is. I bought it for me." She said.

She gave me the money and I wrote her out a reciept. She turned to leave then froze paralyzed in her tracks. She said, "It's somewhat early to be so dark outside, isn't it?"

"No. I didn't notice." I replied. "It can't be dark yet. It was only 1pm a few minutes ago."

Sure as a beaver tooth touches wood, it was dark out. I rubbed my eyes quickly to make sure I wasn't in a dreamy hallucination.

The wall clock displayed 12:53PM and the seconds hand wasn't ticking along.

Noelle turned to face me again and set her box on the counter. She said, "I'm dreaming. I know I'm dreaming. Pinch me." She held out her hand palm up. "Do it." She said. "Pinch my wrist."

I lightly pinched her wrist, careful to not leave a blemish. Her skin was soft and tender. I let go then said, "We're still here." I winked with a smirk at her cheeky request.

The ethereal current that oozed through my nerves was ever prevailent. I felt like I moved through invisible sludge, although I wasn't really slowed in any physical sense. It was all sensory.

"What should we do Wentworth?" Said Noelle.

"Good question." I answered.

The premature darkness outside was interrupted with a flash of white light that flooded through the windows with a slpit-second of glowing haze.

KRA-KA-BOOM!

Obviously a very close lightning strike, Noelle made a jump for me in her fright but the counter was in her way. I raised my eyebrows high as I reached under the counter and said, "I will go ahead and lock the door."

Noelle was visibly getting wrought up. I said, "Hold a minute while I check it out then we will go sit and get our nerves off the burner."

I walked past her and the doorbell jangled out it's short melody as I neared the door.

"What the?!" I said loudly then hastily locked the door. I turned the heavy deadbolt over not a second too soon.

The old hunchback smacked right into the glass of the door with his arms spread wide like he was ready to hug me. His cane tight in his left hand clinked on the glass. The old hunchback grimaced, baring his pearly whites. His eyes were alight with a greenish-blue swirl. Intense was the ethereal current seemingly passing through me, I could only surmise the old hunchback was the source.

Noelle said sharply, "Where's the taser?!"

"Behind the counter, go ahead and get it." I replied quickly, stepping once in reverse while holding my attention squarely on the old hunchback who appeared to be haunted, brainless and vacant.

"The city is gone!" I exclaimed. All there was was countryside wild-grass and tall unkempt trees. The moon shone with a clear prominence, half sitting on the edge of puffy clouds over the distant hilltops, being the only light to see with. It was a harsh departure from the barely visible skies he was use to seeing over the city. Now the stars shone with a clarity and an abundance he never had seen before.

I heard the crackle of the taser. "The city is gone." Noelle echoed my words with a faded tone of disbelief.

"Let me in!" The muffled voice of the old hunchback was softly heard through the thick door glass. His can was tapping the windwo as he slid his arms around.

I laughed quietly at the thought then said firmly, "Yeah, I'm gonna do that right away." Noelle was soon at my side with the taser. She was surprise at the countryside scenery. She said, "Oh my, what's that light coming this way? Look, at the hills, do you see?"

"Yes." I replied.

The old hunchback looked over his shoulder to see what we were looking at. He did a 180 degree flip and smacked his back into the glass. "No! They're here!" He shouted. "Hurry!" He shouted as he hobbled away on his cane. "Hurry!" He said again.

Noelle and I continued to watch the lights get bolder as whomever it was neared us. They appeared around a half mile away. The light was heavy duty flashlights I assumed because of their unwavering intensity.

"Shut off all the lights!" Urged Noelle, who instantly sprinted off to the light switch near the door. We were suddenly cloaked in darkness, reflections on the glass disappeared. We could now easily see across the countryside. A sizeable group they were. The old hunchback was getting distant himself, in the other direction. I could feel Noelle's prescence at my side again though I hadn't heard her. I intuitively took her arm with a tug and guided her to a less obvious window that was large enough for only our heads. We both watched as the lights veered in the old hunchback's direction. The old hunchback was barely visible as a dark shape in the dark green countryside.

I could feel Noelle’s heart thump although we weren’t touching. I felt like she was much closer than we actually were and never felt like that before. I attributed the sensation as connected to the ethereal wrench in my chest. My nerves were extra sensitive. That had to be what it was. But what was causing it was what I really wanted to know.

"They're going to get him." She whispered. I didn't reply. Only watched.

Minutes passed as the shapes got nearer the old hunchback. A beam of light was focused on him. He quit his run and turned to face them, raising his arm in defense. Another extremely bright laser-like light was aimed at him and his whole body as well as his clothing brightened intensely an orange-red. He glowed brighter and brighter for a few seconds before exploding into millions of glowing spheres that looked like mach speed fireflies. He was vaporized.

"I never saw anything like that." I said to Noelle. "Some sort of laser beam."

We sat silently for another minute as the lights searched around in the area where the old hunchback saw his end.

I said, "Let's go to the roof, Noelle. I can lock the hatch. They'll never get us without a ladder." I took her hand in mine and we carefully tip-toed through the darkness quietly. She got out a lighter while we climbed the stairwell, revealing the lonesome emptiness made increasingly haunting with out creaky footsteps in pure silence.

I was channeling another dimension. I could feel it but I said nothing to Noelle about it. I didn't want to add tension to her nervous uncertainty.

There were only two floors. Roof access was limited to a fire escape in the utility room. I locked the utility room door behind us and climbed the ladder. I went through the hatch then guided her up the ladder. I locked the hatch shut from the outside. The roof was a standard flat roof with a chest high wall along the perimeter.

We quickly went to see what was going on out on the grassy plains with the lights. We ducked out of view as soon as we saw how close they were. We sat on our butts with our backs pressed into the wall. Our legs out before us I was somewhat disenchanted at our situation. Outnumbered and unprepared in another universe, all we could do was hide.

We listened in silence but there were no sounds, no voices, no indication of what our new friends were doing. We waited for what seemed like an eternity but was actually around thirty minutes before I broke the silence.

I whispered, "I'm going to check and see if they're out there."

Noelle didn't answer. She was asleep. I considered giving her shoulder a quick shake but then decided to let her continue dreaming. The shock of the unreal events of our time together really took a lot out of her. I wasn't that far behind her myself. I would soon get sleepy if we sat there much longer.

I slowly got on my feet and looked around at the wild grassland below us. I didn't see anything. No lights. No people. Not a single thing. That sludge-like ethereal sensation was gone. I felt free of any such constraints. I was my normal self again. The chirp of crickets was reassuring for me. If the crickets were fine then we probably had no worries. Crickets will fall silent when there is a disruptive prescence.

I kept my lookout as Noelle slept for a quarter of an hour. I found nothing to be alarmed about. She awoke on her own and we silently watched the sun rise together and as the sun rolled into the sky we could see a structure not far away on the grasslands.

Noelle said, "They left, didn't they?"

I replied, "Yes. I didn't see them. I didn't see anyone."

"What do you suppose that is?" She asked of the structure curiously.

"I don't know but I want to go check it out." I replied, "I think we'll be safe. Let's go see what that is. If those people come again I think there'll be plenty of time to get inside. What do you say about that Noelle?"

Noelle had her purse tightly under an armpit with her free arm horizontal, hand locked onto her upper arm. She seemed somewhat uneasy in her skirt and revealing blouse now but I couldn't turn my eyes away. She really was an eyefull.

She hadn't seemed to like the idea of visiting the structure out on the grassland. She gave my plan a long thought then said, "Okay, but I need some time to get ready."

I replied, "If that helps you feel good, then be my guest. Shall we?" I extended my hand towards the sky hatch. She walked over to the hatch and waited for me.

Once inside again I showed her to the bathroom. I went out onto the main floor and sat watch near the windows on the lookout for anything at all. I didn't see anything. Nothing appeared altered. That didn't mean though that the lightbeam people weren't close, perhaps within sight if we knew where to look. The tall grass could easily hide anyone lying on the ground. They could be right there. I assumed that they weren't. In all probability they were long gone.

Noelle took a long time and when she was done in the bathroom she asked about clothes. I didn't have much in the way of personal attire since nearly everything was made before 1920. She got a girl's overcoat made in 1800s Asia that wasn't really all that soft due to the age of the fiber, but it kept her warm.

I made sure the taser was fully charged and we took a step out the door at what I guessed was around 10 or 11 AM. All my clocks and watches were paused at 12:53PM. The sky was partly cloudy with patches of sunshine beaming through. The air wasn't too cold but also we weren't all exactly that warm either.

The structure was somewhat like Stonehenge in that it wasn't a building, yet rather several free-standing mason-formed artworks. The structure was a sight to behold. Although there wasn't an "entrance" per se, there was a wall with a pillar connected with a single arch, made of a curiously light feeling stone, somewhat like textured plastic to the touch.

A relief in the wall showed humanoid shapes without faces but they were life-like in size. Noelle and I were standing near the archway looking through at another free standing structure made of a different type of stone.

The head of one of the relief figures glowed and dull and sparkly mixture of pink and blue. There was a telepathic message that we both heard, saying into our minds, "Purity, element in our source. We are divine."

The stone appeared alive yet I couldn't actually see what the liveliness was with my eyes but I could tell that the stone had somehow come to life.

"My name is Wentworth and my partner's name is Noelle. We kindly ask you for your mercy, for your help. Dire our needs." I said firmly to the wall relief.

"Go with caution," Answered the wall relief, this time we actually heard the words with our ears. "go with wonder. Go with awe. But dare you not touch the treasure."

Noelle and I looked one another in the eyes. I took her hand and we walked through the archway. On the other side of the archway we stood in the center of the structures. A simple square stone was in the ground, a bowl full of treasure lying there like an offering, tempting anyone who would see.

Noelle kept close to me as we walked around the bowl on the stone tile, looking at the several structures. Each one was different. I was eager to see another relief talk to us but all seemed very silent.

A yellow golden light shone above us and a thundering voice quit us in our tracks. "You can return to where you were." Said the light. Noelle and I had to look away because it was too bright to look into.

I held Noelle in my arms and we both said not a word in reply to the thunder. The thunder voice said, "Noelle. Wentworth. You will return to your lives but there is a toll. If you cannot pay then you will not return, for all eternity here you will live. Consent to my terms of full price and walk into my light. If you do not consent to my terms of full price then turn away and leave. I offer this once. Make your decision now."

Noelle and I held each other even tighter and without hesitation walked into the light.

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Full Price

Just Another Crazy Guy

I woke up early this morning
And wondered: What should I do?
The answer came to me suddenly,

So I

Strapped chocolate bars to my body,
Slipped into my panda suit,
Drove to the local TV station,
Set fire to my car,
Put on a surgical mask,
Confronted a security guard,
And asked to speak to someone,
For my message must be heard!
And what is that urgent message?
"I woke up early this morning . . ."

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Just Another Crazy Guy

Ta’e the thick wi’ th’ thin. This wor a bit o’ thin for once.

Hi,
Here are some words from the novel Lady Chatterley's Lover(the ninth line, page 253, chapter 12) by Lawrence (planetebook,here):
(background:the following words are describes what happened after the sexual intercourse between Connie and Mellors )

His words were small comfort. She(Connie) sobbed aloud.
‘Nay, nay!’ he(Mellors) said. ‘Ta’e the thick wi’ th’ thin. This wor a bit o’ thin for once.’

I can guess the part is: take the thick with thin. This were(maybe was) a bit of(I feel the of is redundant) thin for once.
But what's the meaning of take the thick with thin please? And what does This wor a bit o’ thin for once mean

Thank you in advance

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Ta’e the thick wi’ th’ thin. This wor a bit o’ thin for once.

Canna ter? Well, dunna fret

Hi,
Here are some words from the novel Lady Chatterley's Lover(the sixth line, page 253, chapter 12) by Lawrence (planetebook):

‘But what’s amiss?’ he said. ‘It’s once in a while that way.’
‘I . . . I can’t love you,’ she sobbed, suddenly feeling her heart breaking.
Canna ter? Well, dunna fret! There’s no law says as tha’s got to. Ta’e it for what it is.’
He still lay with his hand on her breast.

What's the meaning of canna ter and dunna fret please?
Thank you in advance

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Canna ter? Well, dunna fret

imperfect thing, a little disgusting in its unfinished clumsiness

Hi,
I'm a newcomer, from China, who am reading Lady Chatterley's Lover.
Hi,
Here are some words from the novel Lady Chatterley's Lover(the second paragraph, page 252, chapter 12) by Lawrence (planetebook):
(background:the following is Connie's feeling about the sexual intercourse with Mellors)
Cold and derisive her queer female mind stood apart, and though she lay perfectly still, her impulse was to heave her loins, and throw the man out, escape his ugly grip, and the butting over-riding of his absurd haunches. His body was a foolish, impudent, imperfect thing, a little disgusting in its unfinished clumsiness. For surely a complete evolution would eliminate this performance, this ‘function’.

I feel imperfect means having some drawbacks. But What's the meaning of unfinished clumsiness please? And accordting to the folloing paragraph, I suspect unfinished here means did not reach his orgasm.
Thank you in advance

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imperfect thing, a little disgusting in its unfinished clumsiness

vendredi 29 avril 2016

Anne Perry

I posted this in the introductions forum on 22 April. Now I post it here in longer form. Anne Perry often writes tales with a twist. Some of her books are drawn from her own earlier life. See http://ift.tt/24oVprq. She has published 100 books or more. Her 5 volumes on the First World War were particularly, moving. No Graves As Yet (2003) to "We Shall Not Sleep" (2007), I bought, as well as her novel on Byzantium ("The Sheen on the Silk") and on the American Civil War (Slaves and Obsession"). She is probably best known for her novels on East London in the mid-1800s.

"I've just finished reading an Anne Perry book of 19th century London -"Cain his brother". Now there is a book with a twist! Anne Perry had a strange past, read it up in the Wikipedia article on her. I have a whole shelf of Anne Perry's work.".

She was born in East London, which helps understand her focus on William Monk and Thomas Pitt, and the legal side of woman's oppression in Victorian England.

Coming from a New Zealand prison where she was serving a 5 year sentence for murder along with another 15 year old, Anne Perry came out and set upon a writing career that has been a huge success.

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Anne Perry

The Adversary

Hi all, this is my first short story which i've just self-published over at Smashwords. Would love to hear your thoughts

Prologue

The rain lashed down, like the sultry tears of God, shattering into the face of the earth as the breezy air swirled through the rocky terrain. Feeling the prickly shivers run down my spine, I stood there drenched and motionless, clenching my fists in rage.
‘Lift this wretched curse! I’m begging you.’
The weight of the burden had finally gotten the better of me. It had been playing on my mind and oppressed my thoughts. The feeling clung to me like the sour stench of defeat and spun me into a deluge of madness. This had to end. Tonight.
It turned in its tracks and flashed a cryptic smirk. Those glowing white teeth blinded me with their unnatural glow.
‘Why would I help you, boy?’ snarled the beast.
‘I’ll do anything it takes. Please… just do what you have to do’ the desperation in my voice made my knees weak. I never thought I'd need to plead with this monster for my salvation.
‘My services are not without consequence. Be careful what you wish for, boy.’
‘I can’t go on like this any longer. The nightmares are getting worse, I know they’ve given me the evil eye. I see their hideous, smiling faces when I close my eyes. Their vile thoughts are stopping me from getting anywhere. How can I live like this? I’ve made up my mind.’
‘Very well’ spoke the thing with a finality in its voice that unnerved me to the very core.
The driving rain stopped like a switch had been flicked somewhere in the heavens. The darkness grew upon the land, the light fading as though the sun was being cloaked by a rising volcano. There was nothing left to say nor to plead. My pride had been vanquished. There was a black hole left in me that wallowed in its emptiness.
The shadowy figure had dissolved like smoke into the wintry night’s sky. It was like a scorching fire that had been banished and took my worries along with it. His disappearance struck me like a dagger to the heart; it had always amazed me at how someone could be there one minute, and gone the next. Like they never existed at all.

I
The flashy red banner was draped outside the grand entrance to the hotel and read: “Congratulations!” Hordes of people I’d never seen before closed in like ravenous vultures to shake my hand and wish me well. Their eyes glowed green with envy and the jealous energy in the room was palpable. My award-winning exploits had clearly sent shockwaves around the place. All those fake smiles were masked in bittersweet contempt; I couldn’t wait to get out and escape their pretence. The conversations were drenched in a gluttonous stew of self-interest. If I couldn't help in their endeavours then it rendered our exchange meaningless. The whole thing made me sick to the stomach. If it wasn't for their evil wishes being dashed that night, tonight wouldn't even be happening. As the lamentable speeches burnt my ear drums, I found my avenue of escape and bolted for an early exit from my own party.

The mountainous trees arched over the winding road, their dancing shadows creating a hypnotic façade under the dimly lit road lamps. The tentacle-like branches swayed in the howling wind threatening to bow down and swallow the car in their wooden grasp. My thoughts ran wild. The night had irked me so much that I left my coat at the party. With no phone or sense of direction, it felt like I was going around in circles. The road lamps were long gone as I drove into a sea of blackness with no immediate sign of civilisation. I took the nearest exit and began driving in search of help to ask for directions. I pulled up to a quaint village. It was a place that time had forgotten. There was not a soul in sight. Frozen by the deathly cold and deafening silence, the isolation was beginning to get to me. I’d never heard a place so quiet. Panic set in and finding a helping hand felt like a grim possibility until a light flickered in the corner of my eye.
Getting out of the car, I headed directly toward the country house from where the beacon of hope had emerged. A dim light was lit in the upstairs bedroom that glowed invitingly, it was like some forlorn magnet drawing me in to its ephemeral embrace. The house was surrounded by dense farmland; it stood like a derelict mausoleum of lost souls, a rotting leviathan where few had ventured but many had been lost. Peering into the downstairs window, I was deafened by the sound of my violently beating heart. It sounded like it was trying to escape the suffocating clutch of a python’s choke and losing the battle. Coming to my senses, I saw a dark figure stood silently in the centre of the room. It was still, as though it slept, awaiting an intruder to disrupt its slumber. I raised my hand to knock the glass but it turned and looked me dead in the eye. The thing grinned with malice, it had been waiting.

II
The piercing stare ripped through me as I stumbled backwards and lost my footing. Before I knew it, I was hurtling into the ground beneath my feet. Something clicked and the ground gave way swallowing me into the depths of its nocturnal realm. Falling into the abyss made me feel weightless, like a piece of unwanted coinage flung into a magical wishing well. The momentary feeling soon dissipated into one of excruciating pain as I plummeted into the hard rock of some ancient underground world. Grey smoke filled the musky air and obscured all from sight. It was at this precise moment when I felt paralysed with a nameless dread. It felt like I landed in a cave with steep rocky walls but there was no way to be sure. My ears were ringing and I could have sworn I heard the muffled cries of that thing. Ignoring the temptation to find out more, I struggled painfully to my feet looking for an exit. Someone was clearly playing a sick game. I screamed at the top of my lungs hoping someone would hear me above ground. There was no use. My voice echoed as a reminder of my desolate loneliness. Searching blindly for something to cling to, I reached the wall of the cave that towered over me.

The black face of the wall twitched like a living, breathing thing. It glared back at me with venom in its eyes. Edging closer to the sharp edge, the groans of that forlorn beast became louder and filled my heart with fear. The earth shifted and life flashed before my very eyes. Something lurked on the other side.
‘Hello, is anyone there? You’ve got to get me out of here!’
The steep wall cracked and parted like the jaws of hell revealing a succession of stairs heading up towards the unknown. It was a climb into the mouth of madness. Taking a chance, I took my first step and began the steep ascent. Heading up left me breathless until I finally reached the summit. I was greeted by a bright red door which had an uncanny resemblance to the one in my childhood home. As I raised my hand to knock it, the latch loosened and the door creaked open…

III
‘I’ve been expecting you.’
The creature’s eyes were blacker than death itself. I drowned in their depths amidst a calm sort of hysteria.
‘Ah dear boy, you thought it would be that easy?’
The husky voice was eerily familiar. It can’t be.
‘What are you talking about? Let me out, I just want to get out of here!’
‘You know very well. It’s been five years and I see you’re doing very well for yourself.’
The hulking creature was barely visible behind the fog of smoke seemingly emanating from under its black cloak. That old feeling had returned.
‘I’ll give you as much as you want to let me go. What will it take?’
‘Now, now… Save your pleas for the weak. That paper won’t do you any good in here, boy. You think you were all alone when things suddenly began falling into place? Fool the world but spare me.'
'How dare you! It was me. I made all this happen! My success, my money. I earnt it. No handouts. It sure as hell didn't come from you.'

Those eyes gleamed as the dark walls dissipated into a raging blaze of fire. Sparks from the glowing flames blinded it from sight; the inferno grew by the second threatening to turn all to dust. The burning intensity of the heat torched my senses as the sound of that cackling laughter filled my ears.
‘Your money? Where is it now when you need it most? Eh, boy? It won’t be of any use where you are about to go.’ it sneered from behind the plumes of grey smoke.

My heart plummeted as those words echoed around the room. Flicking back to that fateful night, I racked my brains to search for something meaningful to bargain with.
‘After all this time, they finally have their wish and they’ve sent you back to finish me off. I just knew the curse would return. It was too good to be true.'
Feeling breathless, I hoped my last stand would get me out of there and the creature would feel pity for my plight.
‘I could feel their spiteful tongues backbiting, and I sensed their bad blood in every waking moment. All those people praying for my downfall. It’s all their fault. Please help me! You've got to get rid of it once and for all'
The house was crumbling around us like my remaining fragments of hope. There was no escape, the ring of fire was relentless. The cloaked behemoth walked through the blaze and stood right before me staring into my terrified eyes.
‘There is no curse. There never has been, boy.’
‘But you got rid of it that night! I felt it, I sensed it in my bones. Everything turned after that. My life finally had purpose, I achieved everything I ever wanted.’
‘You were always staring back at the one who limited yourself, boy. It’s just a shame that you turned to be out like the rest of them; still blaming others for your misfortune instead of taking control of your own destiny. The world isn't against you and never has been. You haven't learnt a thing. It didn’t have to come to this.’

Those piercing words ripped through me as the fire raged and spat flames of regret. I saw a resemblance of my reflection staring back at me through those giant orb-like eyes. For the first time I didn’t recognise the person looking back at me. I was lost in the depths of despair as the smoke filled my lungs. The thing was nowhere to be seen.

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The Adversary

Ten books that help us to live

I want to talk about the books that have helped me. Maybe they will help you too. We can discuss them or talk about the books that have helped you.

Brian Tracy
Create Your Own Future: How to Master the 12 Critical Factors of Unlimited Success
The author of this book knows about the success very much. He writes about success, he lectures about success, he meets with successful people. Finally, he is a very successful person himself. Meanwhile, he was not always successful. He marched his way to success and proved that anyone can learn it. We teach foreign languages, we learn to drive a car, in childhood we learn to walk. Similarly, we can learn to be successful.

Napoleon Hill
Think & Grow Rich
I think this author and this book is well known. On the other hand, it is impossible not to mention them. Napoleon Hill studied the biographies of rich people for many years. He discovered the laws of wealth. But his books tell not only about wealth. His books tell us about life. Our thoughts have great power. Our imagination has a great power. We has tremendous power. And we can use that power every day.

Sheila Dainow
Be Your Own Counsellor: A Step-By-Step Guide to Understanding Yourself
The scientific studies have proven that people who used this book, got the same results as people who visited a psychotherapist. Don't you believe? Then you just need to try. The book describes very useful exercises that psychoanalysts and other professionals often offer their patients. The uniqueness of this book is that you can read it from any Chapter. If you need psychological help, read this book.

Susan Jeffers
Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway
This book honestly and frankly tell you about the fear. We are afraid to live and afraid to die, we are afraid to win and afraid to lose, we are afraid to start and afraid to finish. But fear is normal. If you know how to control your fear, if you know how to use it, you live and enjoy life. This book teaches us not afraid of our fears.
In addition, the author talks about the unique practical recommendations for changing our life. Try to change your life, this book will help you with this.

Bill Newman
Soaring With Eagles
Are you tired? Are you frustrated? You don't believe in yourselves? You need strong motivation. This book will give you that. You will feel that you can fly. You will feel that you become stronger. You will feel that your life is beautiful.

Maxwell Maltz
Psycho Cybernetics
You will learn a lot of amazing things, you will see many familiar things in new ways. You will understand what and how you need to change in your life. You will find many inspiring examples and many practical exercises. On the pages of this book there is a programme of changes designed specially for you. Open the first page. Changes begin!

Win Wenger
The Einstein Factor
Sometimes we hesitate to ask about something. Sometimes we don't ask about something very important. Sometimes it is a very big mistake. Have you ever compared himself to geniuses? This book will help you do that. Sometimes it is very useful. After all, if we have small target we can't achieve great success.

Paul R. Scheele
Natural Brilliance
Each person is unique. Every person has unique talents. Every person can and should strive for self-realization. Our problem is not that we have no abilities, but we do not use them. Read this book to become more unique.

Edward de Bono
Six Thinking Hats
Do you want to start a new life? In this case, you should learn to think in a new way. Our thoughts are the Foundation of our life. Change your Foundation and you will change your life. Look at any problem from different points of view. Put off one thinking hat and put on another thinking hat. It's very exciting!

Valentina Knurova
Finding Yourself in the Town of Geniuses: Climbing the Road to Self Realization
Do you love adventure? This book is a fascinating journey through the world of geniuses, where the characters encounter a variety of puzzles. Do you like biographical books? This book will tell you about the life and work of tens of geniuses (writers, scientists, composers, politicians, etc.). Are you looking for the secret of success? Geniuses will tell you how to solve problems, overcome life difficulties and achieve outstanding results.

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Ten books that help us to live

jeudi 28 avril 2016

S.k. Byk

[unable to retrieve full-text content]

Hi. I'm new at this, but as a theater professional (director/actor) I'm interested in... S.k. Byk

Of Cole Porter and unicorns

I’ve lost my unicorn again,
my sky-blue, silky unicorn
with the silver mane
and the hooves painted
a quite showy neon shade of pink

She was there this morning,
lounging under the kitchen table,
smoking an unfiltered Gauloise—
don’t ask me how she does that!—
and leafing through a glossy magazine
while I was brewing an espresso

Later she joined me in the shower
and hummed an old Cole-Porter-tune in my ears
with her odd-sounding tinkle-bell alto—
she does that sometimes,
which explains all the
holes in my shower curtain
and the wetblue patches
on the bathroom carpet

Later still, I got dressed,
put on my workday-face,
blew her an air-kiss and left her
to her Gauloises and her daydreams…
That’s the last I saw of her

Now I’ve looked on the window sill
where she likes to sunbathe;
I’ve looked in the sugar bowl
where she’s wont to slip in
whenever her blood sugar level drops—
or so she says—
but which is in fact each time it rains
or each time she gets bored;
I’ve looked under the bed
even it no one’s yelling outside;
I’ve looked in my wardrobe
where she loves to crease my white shirts
when she feels bolshy

but my skyblue, silky unicorn
is gone

I’m a bit worried now
for it’s been quite a while and
I am used to having her around,
even if I seem to lose her a lot

If you see her—skyblue, silky,
a unicorn as pretty as a unicorn can be,
which contrary to popular belief
is not very—
don’t feed her
(unicorns when munching
are a nasty sight),
but give me a call,
I’m in the telephone directory,
and while waiting for me to come,
tell her how much I miss her,
my silky, sky-blue unicorn

I’m sorry by the way
there won’t be much of a reward;
one of my half-finished novels maybe,
or she might hum you her favourite
old Cole-Porter tune
with her tinkle-bell
alto

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Of Cole Porter and unicorns

The Joy of Twain

O to possess his feverish wit and fierce mop of hair!
Our preeminent humorist spun like a carousel, smoked like a bear,
Published but seventy kilos of words (he reckoned) per year,
Except for dictation, which he sang like an urgent, verbose chanticleer.
The joy of Mark Twain resides in his folk-artful lickety-splits,
Hair-raising hairpinnish turns, juxtapositions, and cranky-pants fits—
His ornery, dang it I'll-say-what-I-want-sir and sacré bleu streaks;
All chatterers hushed when Clemens reeled off his incisive critiques.
He wove simple fables with factual threads into fabulous silk
Conversational robes, and from straightforward incidents squeezed out the milk
Of flavorful, rich, and sublime raconteurial eye-witness tales—
Not one of which ever tastes bland; not one ever pulls punches or fails.

Over a hundred years have passed
Since Samuel Clemens breathed his last;
I'm grateful he lived as long as he did...
I suspect he'll return as a Huck Finnish kid.

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The Joy of Twain

mercredi 27 avril 2016

Pirate Girl

Pirate Girl

“I heard tell Pirate Girl was given that name because she wore silk pajamas.”

I said this to old Ben, but he was having none of it.

“That’s not the whole story. Those jammies were a gift from the daughter of the shogun of Japan for a Persian princess. You can see the Chrysanthemum crests. I remember she stole them in the Indian Ocean, and grew fond of them during the monsoon season in the South China Sea. Said they were cool.”

“Are you sure?”

“There’s a reason, Me Lad, that Pirate Girl be called Pirate Girl, and her jammies alone ain't it.”

“So then, what is it?”

He rubbed his gnarled fingers over his black patch, as if his eye was still there. He’d lost it at Trafalgar when he was Nelson’s first mate.

“You’ll see.”

He reached beneath his bunk, with fingers as twisted as ropes in a typhoon, and pulled out a small sea chest.

“Because this is here is her ill-gotten gain. I’m hiding it for her. Those pearls were meant for the Queen of Spain, a gift from the Governor of the Philippines. The gold earrings were the only gold not melted down by Pizarro; they were hid out by Inca priests and found later in a tomb in the Andes."

His one good eye regained its luster and grew large.

"The silver bracelets and nose plugs were worn by Montezuma and stolen by Cortez. These ivory bangles belonged to an African Queen. Under that is a shrunken head she obtained on the head waters of the Amazon from some Jivaros in a canoe during her escape from Devil's Island. It’s the only thing in her treasure trove that wasn’t taken on the high seas.”

“A shrunken head?”

“I dunno. Maybe she wanted to be a head-shrinker.”

Just like Lola, whatever Pirate Girl wants, Pirate Girl gets. Lucky she wants me.

©StevenHunley2015

https://youtu.be/-g5YNPzr8NM Whatever Lola Wants

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Pirate Girl

#rip

[unable to retrieve full-text content]

They might just as well look for religion as spill their guts out for all to read Silent... #rip

A Tale of Two Cities vs The Silmarillion vs Moby Dick

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A Tale of Two Cities vs The Silmarillion vs Moby Dick

A Journey South by Me

A Journey South

He had never been one for the snowy mountains of the north, and the other two knew that. Varyn and his lifelong friends, Mya and Sjin, were traveling back to the southern region of Lofiron after having delivered an important document to the jarl of the northern keep. Surely the rulers of the land could have come up with some more interesting names for their provinces, right? That, however, did not matter to Varyn at the moment. What did matter to him was that they all made it back in one piece.
The trio were all equipped with adequate gear for the region, but that did not make it that much better. Their hardened leather armor that they all preferred had to be exchanged for thick, padded fur that was more suited for this environment. Mya had objected at first, complaining that the fur would not complement her appearance very well. She had always believed that appearance makes the person, or at least, she said that to hide her vanity. Sjin was not nearly as annoyed by the outfits as Mya; he may prefer leather, but he was always ready to try out different things, especially if it was a new blade for his arsenal.
Varyn just wanted their first adventure to be a success. Now that they were all nineteen, they had decided to join the Adventurers Guild located at the southern keep. Once enlisted, the friends had been required to pass a series of tests dealing in various fighting techniques, means of survival, and magic. Mya had excelled in most forms of magic, but grew quite attached to magical transmutation and shapeshifting, and Varyn could swear that those classes made her even more than she had been as a kid. Sjin went for any melee – focused class he could get himself into, perfecting all forms of the art of combat, but he always had a soft spot for longswords, which he kept one of on his back in a custom scabbard.
Being the leader of the group, Varyn prided himself on being well – rounded. He primarily focused on his survival studies, but had been sure to master a sword style centered on parrying, dodging, and counterattacks. Varyn was sure to learn a spell or two as well, but mostly just the occasional fireball. His primary training in survival left him with a high tolerance to many poisons and the ability to survive the harshest of environments. If only he could have gotten advanced training in the art of conversation since he was never much of a talker.
“How much longer do we have again, Varyn?” Sjin blurted out.
Varyn jumped slightly. The group had been trudging along the snowy trail in almost complete silence for a while now.
“Umm, a day or two at most. Why?”
“Ugh,” groaned Sjin. “Why couldn’t we have rented a wagon back at the keep?”
“Because the roads are near impassable for wagons this time of year up north. You should know this.”
“Pffft! You think I’d bother with that? I’m a man of action! I don’t have time to remember stuff like that,” Sjin proudly exclaims while pointing his sword heroically into the frigid air.
Mya peers up from her book titled Creatures of the North: A Guide.
“Maybe you should pay attention after all,” she says, jabbing her thumb behind them.
A tuft of Sjin’s dark red hair was being whisked away on the winter breeze.
“Heh… Maybe you have a point, Mya. I’ll, uh, be more careful next time.”
They all share a laugh and continue on for a few more hours in teeth-chattering silence as the evening sun begins to draw ever closer to the horizon and the pines cast long, cold shadows across the trail.
Mya snaps her book shut and tucks it away into her pack. “It’s getting dark. We should find a place to settle down for the night.”
Varyn and Sjin stop and turn toward her. “Yeah,” says Varyn just as he spots a spot just off the trail. “This looks like as good a spot as any. Erm… Mya, could you…”
“Yeah, yeah. I got it.”
The mage steps forward and casts her hands forward as they emit a warm glow. All of the ice and snow melts away to make room for the sprouting grass. A clear, shimmering dome appears around the new site, further melting away the snow around its outer edges.
“Just trying to show off there, Mya?” Sjin teased with a chuckle.
A sly smirk grew on Mya’s face. “I could get rid of the dome and let your sorry tail freeze and fall off, Sjin.”
“I’m not complaining, but I doubt I can freeze off a tail I don’t have, Miss Mage.”
“No tail? Are you sure?”
Mya giggled.
Sjin turned around to discover that he had a newly formed cat tail protruding from his backside. His scream caused some snow to fall from the trees.
It was all Mya and Varyn could do to stop from rolling in the snow with laughter.
“Mya!! Get rid of it!” Sjin cried out.
“Oh, stop whining. It’s only temporary. Besides, I think it complements you quite nicely,” the mage joked.
The group was unaware of the creature watching from deeper in the forest. They were just regaining their composure when it came sprinting toward them. Varyn saw it first.
“Look out!” he screamed as he tackled both Mya and Sjin to the ground.
The creature pounced and soared over their heads, its fangs sinking into Varyn’s cloak, ripping it off his back.
Mya shrieked. “Varyn, are you okay!?’
“I’m fine, but that thing stole my cloak. I want it back.”
Varyn hopped onto his feet and whirled to face the beast. Before he could begin to speak, Mya spoke up.
“It’s an ice warg. Definitely larger than normal, for sure, but it’s still just an oversized wolf,” she says as her hand erupts into flame. “Let’s play fetch.”
Mya hurls a fireball at the warg and lands a decisive blow. The fireball explodes and ignites the enormous creature and the trees surrounding it. It whines and howls in pain while rolling around in the wet dirt left by the explosion in an attempt to extinguish the inferno, but to no avail.
“What did they teach you at the guild, Mya?!” Sjin cried out.
“Oh that’s just a little trick I taught myself. Normally fireballs don’t explode so violently,” she explained.
Varyn threw his best knife into the warg’s eye to end the beast’s suffering.
“Well, at least we can have something to eat that isn’t our rations. Now Mya, could you extinguish this mess, please?”
That following morning, Sjin’s tail disappears and the group finally exit the forest into open plains. With plenty of the warg left over, they have nothing to worry about except for any other attacks from the creatures of the south. Luckily, Mya read up on those beforehand.

Author Note: Yes, the format is messy due to the change from Word and the ending was rushed due to this originally being a college paper with a length limit. Also, I am considering turning this into a novel. Feedback is appreciated.

©AndrewWillingham2016

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A Journey South by Me

Please Check Out My Kobo Short Story!

Welcome to the Literature Network Forums forums.

You are currently viewing our boards as a guest which gives you limited access to view most discussions and access our other features. By joining our free community you will have access to post topics, communicate privately with other members (PM), respond to polls, upload content and access many other special features. Registration is fast, simple and absolutely free so please, join our community today!

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Please Check Out My Kobo Short Story!

mardi 26 avril 2016

Please Try My New Kobo Story- Race to the Everstone!

[unable to retrieve full-text content]

http://ift.tt/1Sr5G26 This is a... Please Try My New Kobo Story- Race to the Everstone!

Midnight

Midnight

The scene was set and the players had found their marks.

Twenty two tea candles flickered around the edge of the tub. Three clustered in each corner, next to her earrings and between her perfumes.
The tub was filled with mountains of suds scented lavender, and a sea sponge the size of a football floated like an exotic island in the center. She’d never seen anything like it.

“Is this for me?”

I loved it when she asks ridiculous questions. Then she gave me a demure look. By the beard of the Profit, and by all the Christian saints, I love it when she gives me a look like this. When a mature sophisticated woman can convey the look of an innocent girl, I simply melt. The translation is this:

“I’m a sophisticated woman, and privy to every secret of the love-maker’s art. But I’m a woman newly in love, so I’m an ingénue too.”

Then she put her hands up in arabesque fashion like Anna Pavlova, forming a minaret.

“Help me in, won’t you?”

©StevenHunley2016

https://youtu.be/wgSikUkjsxs Midnight Rendezvous

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Midnight

Midnight

Midnight

The scene was set and the players had found their marks.

Twenty two tea candles flickered around the edge of the tub. Three clustered in each corner, next to her earrings and between her perfumes.
The tub was filled with mountains of suds scented lavender, and a sea sponge the size of a football floated like an exotic island in the center. She’d never seen anything like it.

“Is this for me?”

I loved it when she asks ridiculous questions. Then she gave me a demure look. By the beard of the Profit, and by all the Christian saints, I love it when she gives me a look like this. When a mature sophisticated woman can convey the look of an innocent girl, I simply melt. The translation is this:

“I’m a sophisticated woman, and privy to every secret of the love-maker’s art. But I’m a woman newly in love, so I’m an ingénue too.”

Then she put her hands up in arabesque fashion like Anna Pavlova, forming a minaret.

“Help me in, won’t you?”

©StevenHunley2016

https://youtu.be/wgSikUkjsxs Midnight Rendezvous

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Midnight

Mink

Gary was going out with a nice girl and finally popped the
question. "Will you marry me, darling?" he asked.

Rhonda smiled coyly and said, "Yes, if you'll buy me a mink."

Gary thought for a moment and then replied, "Okay, it's a deal,
on one condition."

"What is that?" Rhonda asked.

"You'll have to clean the cage," Gary replied.

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Mink

The Lake Isle of Innisfree

Hello to all!

I have a question about Yeats's poem "The Lake Isle of Innisfree". Does anyone have information about reasons Yeats might have chosen NINE ? I'm referrring to the line about "nine bean rows will I have there". I've been unable to find an explanation. Why nine? Does the number have some special significance in its usage here?

Thanks for your help.....................

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The Lake Isle of Innisfree

Eloquence

Life's not easy for a poor posh boy
Speaking the Queen's English
around those that don't
Folk will call you posh or gay,
or toff, or snob, or poof
But it doesn't mean any of that
Speaking properly, as you were taught,
living in an ordinary house
on an ordinary street
Life's not easy for a posh poor boy

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Eloquence

Hiii

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Hiii

lundi 25 avril 2016

I haven't read a book in YEARS.. really want to fix that

When I was younger I used to like to write stories and read a couple books but never full on series like harry potter like most of the kids i knew. i'd read small chapter fiction books.. i dont really remember reading much until high school i read Fahrenheit 451n class and it was the only book in a while that grasped my attention to where i could read (most ) of it. i think i would be into sci fi/dystopian themed books that are really able to intrigue a reader because i DO have focus issues and trying to read a book can be overwhelming for me especially if it starts slow...for a while now i've also wanted to get into philosophy bt have NO CLUE what i'd be into and where to start there.

so where should i start guys?

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I haven't read a book in YEARS.. really want to fix that

Will

[unable to retrieve full-text content]

I would rather die alone Than with you Or you Or you Or you Or you Or you Or you Or... Will

Game Piece

The myth of the archer in a mythical wood
As he stalks his match, last of its species,
Is a drama with this final act:
Both rivals' lives end before meeting.
His match is also his perfect mate—
White king versus black, ever-mourning,
Or Narcissus kissing his rippled face—
Choose the image you deem most alluring.

When I was young and susceptible,
I used to cry myself to sleep
After a night of lariat-tossing,
Whack-a-moling, and other diversions.
I'd nock my arrow at every shadow
That thundered by my boscaged blind;
But to wound a shadow fatally
Requires a skill I don't possess.
I'm less a huntsman than a poor poacher
Who sets his snares for lesser game:
A toad, perhaps, or newt, or snake;
There is no sport in bagging snails.

I used to fall in love at the rate
Of thirty-two feet per second per second
As I fixated on the native idols,
Dark-featured and shapely, like bas-reliefs.
(I still go goo-goo for them at times . . .)
But my slingshotted shot puts have never reached
Escape velocity, and thus it follows
That uplifted hearts must crash to earth—
Any hope of orbit is folly.

I'll continue to play the game as I wish;
As futile as blunderers' tactics may be,
There's still an exiguous chance that my aim
Will align with destiny's expert bead,
And my foe who is friend will faint at my feet,
Will go limp and allow me to carry him
Back to the lodge and my trophy room
Wherein all conquests are sanctified.

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Game Piece

Black Sky**

Francis, the captain, glared at the five boats impeding his path. From his post at the helm of the ship he commands Steve to radio the coast guard. This behemoth of a ship could crush these tiny tugboats, but the crew is weary.

“Give us your cargo, and maybe we will let you live.”

Holding the radio close to him, using it as support, as Francis feels weightless. Although, he was trained for situations like this. A freighter full of dolls and children toys wasn’t worth too much, so he bought time.

“I’ll tell you what. Give me five minutes to consort with my men.”

The captain is covered head to toe in white with gold patches on his shoulders to signify he alone is in command. The tension has got to him as he hesitantly taps his finger on the radio with the consistency of a metronome.

“Captain? You seem shaken. What the hell are we going to do?” Kelly, his first mate, looked at him with a contorted face coming from the thought of unwavering doom.

“Everyone listen! Go to the lower decks and gather everything that can be used as a weapon.”

Francis has done the math, and they aren’t going out in cowardice. Francis’ plan depends on everyone reaching deep for their own inner heroism.

“Have you signaled the coast guard?” Francis exclaims

“They are jamming our signal!” Steve replies

Kelly chimes in, “We aren’t going to just lay down, so let’s take the fight to them!”

Francis motions for calm, “Please Kelly keep it together, and let them come to us.”

The tugboats are formed in a close-knit half circle, close enough to block the boat's path. A formation practiced time and again as they honed their skills. The Somali pirates mock the giant ship, ready to bring it crumbling. One of the pirate’s ready’s the tear gas.

Kelly reports, “Captain! The crew on the lower deck made shiv’s and weapons out of what they could.”

The look on Francis’ face intensifies as he watches a storm gathering on the horizon. Thinking it’s there to punish those too weak to stand on their own. Kelly drops to her knees in prayer, but Francis stares gravely. Standing above an abyss so deep, so unforgiving.
Francis and Kelly watch helplessly as a can breaks through the command posts’ window. The gas slowly starts filling the room capturing a couple crew members in its toxic swirls.

“Evacuate!” Francis yells

The crew frantically makes its way to the lower decks. Twisting and curving throughout the hull of the ship. Arriving at the lower decks where Stan, who was in charge of getting the weapons together, waits anxiously next to a myriad of weapons. Including everything from shiv’s to spears, to a few small caliber guns.

“Captain! What the hell was that ruckus?”

“Tear gas, the damn animals.” Francis says undecided between the good we all have, and the evil we all endure.

“Ok guys gather around.” Francis starts pacing to the point of his indecisiveness.

He points to the north, “Those animals out there just want our valuables but I say that I will not lay down and let them have it. I beg you look inside yourself for that spark of greatness. If you look hard enough you’ll find it. Now what do you say? Lay down or go out in glorious combat?”

“Sir they said they may let us free,” States Kelly, curled up in the corner.

“Bull. I was taught about situations like this, ninety percent of the time we die.”

Cutting through the silence is the sound of urine flowing freely down a member’s leg. He, and the crew, waddle about. Wanting desperately to somehow escape.

Francis looks upon the man, “I understand you might be frightened. That's normal. Just imagine if the divine were looking down upon you. How would you act in what may be your final moments?”

The pirates begin their ascent throwing giant hooks over the brim of the hull. The clanking echoes throughout the ship, striking the crew. Determined pirate’s start climbing the vast hull.

Hiding his own fear Francis says, “You hear that? That’s the sound of impending wrath! Now what do you say?”

Each individual grabs a weapon, and they sit cater cornered in the intricate maze of halls. Some wait for the initial strike. While others position themselves to flank the unwitting pirates. Francis, holding a spear, stares deeply at the rust encrusted door with the sound of the pirate’s rustling just outside.

“Steady…. OK here they come!”
Bursting through the initial door with a brutal C4 charge a couple pirates come rushing in. Gliding through the air a spear fashioned from wood pierced the first pirate to come through. Francis charges with the ferocity of a wounded animal, followed by his colleagues. He stops and notices through the smoke a hand grenade coming into view sitting ever so ominously. Retreating he is hit in the back by the explosion and thrown a distance slamming his head against a wall.

“Captain? Are you okay?” Kelly demands

Francis is laying on the floor drenched in blood not knowing whether it's his, his crew’s or the Pirates.

“How long was I out?” Francis asks sitting up painfully

“About fifteen minutes I presume. That's how long it took to dispatch of the pirates. Do you think that's the end of it?”

“No. Of course not. They were testing our defenses. You see how none of these pirates have guns?”

Francis thinks back to the dream he had while unconscious. Great flames indured the bathtub at his home, and he stared in bewilderment as if the flames were speaking to him. Then an idea strikes him.

“OK guys we don’t have much time. Throw these no good corpses overboard. I have a plan.”

With precision and focus Francis moves to a map on the wall of the mess hall where it shows everything you need to know about the layout of the ship. Pointing and commanding the crew he explains his plan.

Kelly runs to the lower decks, glowing with optimism. The gas tanks, seldom touched, are rapped and pillaged by the crew taking them to the uncovered deck. Kelly starts frantically pouring gasoline over the hull of the ship. The rest of the crew joins her. Far as they could to still have precision.

“Don't forget to pour gas on the cargo!” Francis yells

The crew splits to drench the cargo, some crates stacked four tall. The fumes from the gasoline make several pelicans fly away off the top deck. The water around the edge of the ship is now fused with gasoline. The ship and its crew are ready. Francis can feel the calm come over him knowing it's done.

Peering over the side of the ship they notice more pirates moving into position. So, they do the same. A small boat sits in the back corner of the ship, and they all gather around it. Francis has one lighter ready for above, and kelly has another ready for below. “There’s that sound again.” Francis thinks to himself. The clanking of metal on metal as the usurper’s prepare to come aboard.

The wind brushes Francis’ hair and he yells “NOW!”

He ignites and drops his lighter and Kelly does the same. What a splendid response. As soon as they drop the lighters so does the escape boat. Leaving just enough of a gap in the pool of gasoline surrounding their ship they land in the water. Up in glorious splendor and triumph do the flames engulf the ship. The flames in the water conceal the eye line of the pirate’s. They have no idea of the escape.

Just barely escaping the crew watches as the boat bursts into the sky, which is looming darkly as the storm gathers. Success. The pirates were blown into nothingness, and now adrift at sea. Francis begins writing a note.
-----------------------------------------------------

Several days later...

“There can’t you see!” States the short man, filthy and brooding.

The man and his acquaintance glare at the boat stale and lingering in the water fifty meters from shore. The men go out on their own boat to meet the curiosity built by staring for a half hour.

They arrive at a bleak understanding. Scattered across the floor is fifteen dead men and women. The filthy man notices a note sitting in between the corpse’s. He read aloud so his companion could hear:

To whomever first reads this,

Please I beg you do not look down upon us with pity. We
triumphed over an evil bound to catch us in the end. I’d give it the
name of human desire. Lust, greed, and power to name a few.
I, for one, am glad to be part of an event which purged the villainous
from this vast and harmonious sea. At first not knowing what to do,
but struck with the knowledge and ingenuity we understood what to do.
The enemy of greed was vanquished and our duty was filled. I am
not afraid to die but I am afraid you won’t listen. Listen for news of
a flaming boat, and you will see what I speak of.

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Black Sky**

Black Sky**

Francis, the captain, glared at the five boats impeding his path. From his post at the helm of the ship he commands Steve to radio the coast guard. This behemoth of a ship could crush these tiny tugboats, but the crew is weary.

“Give us your cargo, and maybe we will let you live.”

Holding the radio close to him, using it as support, as Francis feels weightless. Although, he was trained for situations like this. A freighter full of dolls and children toys wasn’t worth too much, so he bought time.

“I’ll tell you what. Give me five minutes to consort with my men.”

The captain is covered head to toe in white with gold patches on his shoulders to signify he alone is in command. The tension has got to him as he hesitantly taps his finger on the radio with the consistency of a metronome.

“Captain? You seem shaken. What the hell are we going to do?” Kelly, his first mate, looked at him with a contorted face coming from the thought of unwavering doom.

“Everyone listen! Go to the lower decks and gather everything that can be used as a weapon.”

Francis has done the math, and they aren’t going out in cowardice. Francis’ plan depends on everyone reaching deep for their own inner heroism.

“Have you signaled the coast guard?” Francis exclaims

“They are jamming our signal!” Steve replies

Kelly chimes in, “We aren’t going to just lay down, so let’s take the fight to them!”

Francis motions for calm, “Please Kelly keep it together, and let them come to us.”

The tugboats are formed in a close-knit half circle, close enough to block the boat's path. A formation practiced time and again as they honed their skills. The Somali pirates mock the giant ship, ready to bring it crumbling. One of the pirate’s ready’s the tear gas.

Kelly reports, “Captain! The crew on the lower deck made shiv’s and weapons out of what they could.”

The look on Francis’ face intensifies as he watches a storm gathering on the horizon. Thinking it’s there to punish those too weak to stand on their own. Kelly drops to her knees in prayer, but Francis stares gravely. Standing above an abyss so deep, so unforgiving.
Francis and Kelly watch helplessly as a can breaks through the command posts’ window. The gas slowly starts filling the room capturing a couple crew members in its toxic swirls.

“Evacuate!” Francis yells

The crew frantically makes its way to the lower decks. Twisting and curving throughout the hull of the ship. Arriving at the lower decks where Stan, who was in charge of getting the weapons together, waits anxiously next to a myriad of weapons. Including everything from shiv’s to spears, to a few small caliber guns.

“Captain! What the hell was that ruckus?”

“Tear gas, the damn animals.” Francis says undecided between the good we all have, and the evil we all endure.

“Ok guys gather around.” Francis starts pacing to the point of his indecisiveness.

He points to the north, “Those animals out there just want our valuables but I say that I will not lay down and let them have it. I beg you look inside yourself for that spark of greatness. If you look hard enough you’ll find it. Now what do you say? Lay down or go out in glorious combat?”

“Sir they said they may let us free,” States Kelly, curled up in the corner.

“Bull. I was taught about situations like this, ninety percent of the time we die.”

Cutting through the silence is the sound of urine flowing freely down a member’s leg. He, and the crew, waddle about. Wanting desperately to somehow escape.

Francis looks upon the man, “I understand you might be frightened. That's normal. Just imagine if the divine were looking down upon you. How would you act in what may be your final moments?”

The pirates begin their ascent throwing giant hooks over the brim of the hull. The clanking echoes throughout the ship, striking the crew. Determined pirate’s start climbing the vast hull.

Hiding his own fear Francis says, “You hear that? That’s the sound of impending wrath! Now what do you say?”

Each individual grabs a weapon, and they sit cater cornered in the intricate maze of halls. Some wait for the initial strike. While others position themselves to flank the unwitting pirates. Francis, holding a spear, stares deeply at the rust encrusted door with the sound of the pirate’s rustling just outside.

“Steady…. OK here they come!”
Bursting through the initial door with a brutal C4 charge a couple pirates come rushing in. Gliding through the air a spear fashioned from wood pierced the first pirate to come through. Francis charges with the ferocity of a wounded animal, followed by his colleagues. He stops and notices through the smoke a hand grenade coming into view sitting ever so ominously. Retreating he is hit in the back by the explosion and thrown a distance slamming his head against a wall.

“Captain? Are you okay?” Kelly demands

Francis is laying on the floor drenched in blood not knowing whether it's his, his crew’s or the Pirates.

“How long was I out?” Francis asks sitting up painfully

“About fifteen minutes I presume. That's how long it took to dispatch of the pirates. Do you think that's the end of it?”

“No. Of course not. They were testing our defenses. You see how none of these pirates have guns?”

Francis thinks back to the dream he had while unconscious. Great flames indured the bathtub at his home, and he stared in bewilderment as if the flames were speaking to him. Then an idea strikes him.

“OK guys we don’t have much time. Throw these no good corpses overboard. I have a plan.”

With precision and focus Francis moves to a map on the wall of the mess hall where it shows everything you need to know about the layout of the ship. Pointing and commanding the crew he explains his plan.

Kelly runs to the lower decks, glowing with optimism. The gas tanks, seldom touched, are rapped and pillaged by the crew taking them to the uncovered deck. Kelly starts frantically pouring gasoline over the hull of the ship. The rest of the crew joins her. Far as they could to still have precision.

“Don't forget to pour gas on the cargo!” Francis yells

The crew splits to drench the cargo, some crates stacked four tall. The fumes from the gasoline make several pelicans fly away off the top deck as they moved away. The water around the edge of the ship is now soaked in gasoline. The ship and its crew are ready. Francis can feel the calm come over him knowing it's done.

Peering over the side of the ship they notice more pirates moving into position. So, they do the same. A small boat sits in the back corner of the ship, and they all gather around it. Francis has one lighter ready for above, and kelly has another ready for below. “There’s that sound again.” Francis thinks to himself. The clanking of metal on metal as the usurper’s prepare to come aboard.

The wind brushes Francis’ hair and he yells “NOW!”

He ignites and drops his lighter and Kelly does the same. What a splendid response. As soon as they drop the lighters so does the escape boat. Leaving just enough of a gap in the pool of gasoline surrounding their ship they land in the water. Up in glorious splendor and triumph do the flames engulf the ship. The flames in the water conceal the eye line of the pirate’s. They have no idea of the escape.

Just barely escaping the crew watches as the boat bursts into the sky, which is looming darkly as the storm gathers. Success. The pirates were blown into nothingness, and now adrift at sea. Francis begins writing a note.
-----------------------------------------------------

Several days later...

“There can’t you see!” States the short man, filthy and brooding.

The man and his acquaintance glare at the boat stale and lingering in the water fifty meters from shore. The men go out on their own boat to meet the curiosity built by staring for a half hour.

They arrive at a bleak understanding. Scattered across the floor is fifteen dead men and women. The filthy man notices a note sitting in between the corpse’s. He read aloud so his companion could hear:

To whomever first reads this,

Please I beg you do not look down upon us with pity. We
triumphed over an evil bound to catch us in the end. I’d give it the
name of human desire. Lust, greed, and power to name a few.
I, for one, am glad to be part of an event which purged the villainous
from this vast and harmonious sea. At first not knowing what to do,
but struck with the knowledge and ingenuity we understood what to do.
The enemy of greed was vanquished and our duty was filled. I am
not afraid to die but I am afraid you won’t listen. Listen for news of
a flaming boat, and you will see what I speak of.

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Black Sky**

Embark! the new English major magazine in the middle east

hello everyone! . I study English major at Alsun faculty. Embark is our new magazine Its main aim is to entertain and to instruct through different topics.
the link of our zero issue. I would love you guys checking it. : http://ift.tt/1NMjcYM
please support us on our facebook page. http://ift.tt/1ruYCaY . It's just a start.

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Embark! the new English major magazine in the middle east

Charles Dickens - Great Expectations -

Hopefully the community does not get upset over my opinion regarding this classic novel. I found it extremely well written -perhaps better written than any novel that I have previously read, but I found the story somewhat boring. The most intriguing part of the story was Pip and Estella, but for some reason, she disappears almost immediately from the story. That was when I burnt out. Without the connection involved within the opening of Part II, I couldn't bring myself to finishing it.

Does anybody else agree with me here?

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Charles Dickens - Great Expectations -

Chapter 2 - Aaliyah

I would like some reception on this. Chapter 1 is available in General Writing

Chapter 2

Aaliyah


The young ___ finished her drink and pushed it aside. The pungent effect of the double vodka helped to ease the matters of the passing day.

“How are things Aaliyah?” The bartender asked inquisitively. The low tone in his voice reflected his heavy build. The whiskers of his stash were worn with age. His name was Mickey; an elderly man whom had been running the remnants of a family business for a decade. He would be the final owner of this shabby bar, one that Aaliyah visited quite frequently.

Too frequently she thought. “Same old,” She responded with not so much as a smirk. “Michael and I have been trying to locate a Pendant.” She explained quietly as she kept a watchful eye on her surroundings.

“Any luck?” Mickey asked as he leaned upon the bar table. He had been listening to Aaliyah’s progress for the last decade –progress that never really went anywhere, but he enjoyed it all the same. Company was company, and at his ripe age of 60, he didn’t have much.

Aaliyah smirked as she looked around cautiously. She took no notice of anything out of the ordinary. No ___ and nobody out to get her. During these times, that occurred all too often. Numerous stories of ___ being hunted by humans -and sometimes killed, often circulated within the gossip of ___ and human alike.

Mickey took notice of the bags under her eyes -and her efforts to keep herself awake, as she continued to look about. Her hair was haggard and messily worn. It was dark black with red streaks running through towards ends of her hair. She often wore the same eye liner for several days, and usually dressed in the same clothes as well; a black sports bra worn underneath her leather jacket. More often than not she would keep the sleeves pulled as high as her elbows. She quite enjoyed this look. For it showed that she wasn’t scared to show the world what she actually was. Her ___ tattoos covered her belly and parts of her neck and face. However, today felt different. There was some sort of presence that she sensed far off.

“We think the Canadian Government has managed to locate one. It’s just west of here actually,” She explained as she pointed her thumb to the left. With her other hand she threw $4.50 on the table and asked for another beer. As Mickey took the change and turned towards the fridge, she continued. “It’s under the control of the military and it’s hidden away in some military base. Michael doesn’t think I should try and steal it, he thinks I might get hurt.” She elaborated with doubts about her friend’s opinion regarding her safety.

“Smart man,” Replied Mickey as he popped the beer open with a bottle opener. He laid it in front of her and said, “If you decide to do that than the repercussions will be significant. You will be labelled as an enemy of the country –and because you’re a ___, I do not think that will bode well for you,” His once heavy tone was quieted under the awareness of his customers. He leaned closer towards Aaliyah and spoke softly. “You’ve been coming to this bar for a decade. Doing the same thing, drinking during the same days and trying to locate these artifacts, perhaps they aren’t meant for you to find?”
Aaliyah snickered in doubt. She knew something that he didn’t know about them, but she wouldn’t dare say that now, not with so many ears around.

“They are, I know that much,” She responded discourteously. “But locating them is another matter entirely. These things are hard to find. For all Michael and I know, some random twat somewhere could have one at home,” She took a sip of her drink. “Besides, what other purpose would the mighty ___ have besides these?” She asked with an elaborated sense of sarcasm.

“The option to do what you want,” Mickey shot back. He could tell she was getting drunk. She had four drinks already, but usually didn’t stop until she had half a dozen.

Aaliyah wrapped her hands around her beer as if to warm it. She thought heavily before she responded. “Impossible,” She finally said. “The ___ have few, if any rights at all, and we’re under scrutiny from the public and government eye. If any fault or wrong doing should be found, we could easily be labelled as enemies of the world. Besides, it took almost a year for me to work things out with Michael, the only hearty human I know; so much as that he even looks after me.” She explained ashamed.

However, the underlying fact was that the options she had were few, and she knew it. Governments of the world would never give a ___ citizenship to any country and because of that, they would be unable to work and provide for themselves. Hence why so many resorted to using their powers –which were often seen as gifts from the public eye, to steal and rob for the basic necessities they needed to live day by day. This particular stereo type tainted the image of the ___ and made it impossible for those with good intentions to do things the way society saw fit and according.

After a long pause of silence Aaliyah finally spoke. “There’s nothing out there for us.” She said as she had another sip of her drink. She felt as though her mind was a cluttered mess. She didn’t know what she was doing and she didn’t know how to fix things for herself or her people. The only particular lead and possible option that could lead to a greater outcome was the Pendants of ___. True, she didn’t know what purpose they could ultimately serve, but they appeared to be quite mysterious. She also had one when she crawled out of the crater that was caused from her spaceship; which occurred a decade ago.

“There’s a whole world out there,” The bartender replied as he busied himself with wiping a dirty cup. He looked around before continuing. With barely as much as a whisper he said, “I know you’re a ___. You can run away, make a life somewhere, anywhere. You don`t have to live in the filth of this city.” His voice carried a sense of compassion and sympathy that hit Aaliyah hard.

The only person who was aware of her bitter circumstances besides Michael was Mickey. He was much older than she was -and because of that, she confided him in. She explained her confusion about her identity, her leads and misleads when it came to tracking the Pendants and sometimes her dreams when –if she ever, collected all the Pendants.

“I’m going to make the world a better place.” She often said dreamily. Perhaps the Pendants could give her the power to force the humans to accept her and her brethren as people of the world. She knew the effects of one of these magnificent artifacts, but she only ever had the one. She often pondered what would happen if she had all seven under her control. The thought of it made her smile.
She bit her lower lip to the thought of this and what Mickey said. But before she could respond someone walked in who caught her eye.

****, she thought to herself; realizing that she got caught off guard. The topic at hand had been deep and emotionally driving; hence why Aaliyah failed to detect this ___ that she sensed previously. Mickey took notice of her reaction and looked in that particular direction. Immediately, he knew what she was worried about. This awareness worried him as well; for if these two decided to scuffle, they could easily destroy what remained of the family bar.

“What can I get for you sir?” Asked Mickey contently.

Aaliyah glared at the ___ in contest; a warning for things to come if he didn't watch what he was doing. The ___ simply smirked at her and turned his attention towards Mickey. “I’ll have a beer, and one for the lady over there.” He said with a point in her direction.

Mickey looked over to Aaliyah worriedly and fell silent for a moment or two. “Very well.” He said with a nod as he turned around and walked back towards the fridge. The ___ dropped some change on the table and surprisingly, went walking in Aaliyah’s direction.

Aaliyah examined him curiously. He wore a heavy black sweater with the hood pulled up. It was drenched completely through and appeared to be rather haggard and worn from wear. His eyes shun a glistening green underneath the strands of black hair that fell affront his face. His face bore a striking similarity to Aaliyah’s. ___ tattoo’s populated the curvatures of his cheeks and enamored his beautiful looks.

He took the stool on Aaliyah’s left and sat down with not so much as a glance at her. She found that queer. Does he know what I am? She thought to herself. She took a sip of her drink before she turned on her stool.

“Don’t f___ with me,” She said contently. Her tone carried a warning that she knew he would comprehend. “I know what you are; what do you want?” She demanded as she curled her bottom lip.
The ___ suspired to her attitude, but ignored it and introduced himself. “Carlos,” He said pleasantly as he extended his hand towards Aaliyah. She glanced at it and decided to ignore his courteous gesture.

“I asked you a question” She retorted as she sipped her beer again. She was trying to act intimidating, but she didn’t know if he was actually buying it. His uncaring responses made her think not.

“Yea I know, but I’d rather know your name first. Tell me your name and I’ll tell you what I want,” He said with a smile. “I know you know I’m a ___, but chill.” He added as he took hold of his drink.

Mickey exchanged it for the payment and went back to cleaning the bar, all the while keeping an eye on this new customer. Never before had Mickey seen him, and to make matters worse, he was a ___, the same as Aaliyah.

She kept her thoughts to herself for a brief moment but chose to give him this one a chance. All too often she would ignore the advance of others and was reluctant in building any lasting friendships. Perhaps if she tried to indulge her trust in others, they would do the same with her.

“Aaliyah” She finally said after a long pause.

“And where did you get that name from?” Carlos asked curiously.

Aaliyah smiled. She knew that all the ___ on Earth didn`t have names at the time of their arrival; and because of that, they were forced to name themselves. Their varying locations determined what names they had to choose from; this was at least applicable for a majority of the ___, but a select few didn’t abide by this principal.

“Well... I heard a song on the radio that I really enjoyed. After hearing the artist’s name, I determined that was the one I liked the best,” She explicated as she reached for her drink. “It fits.” She added as she took a drink of her beer. “And yourself, where did you get yours from?”

“I like the sound of it. Carlos,” He explained as he looked at Aaliyah. “I know what you have,” He added nonchalantly. “You seem like a nice girl so you don’t have to worry about me trying to steal it or anything. I don’t typically get upset, unless someone is a complete *******.”

“Like ___?”

“Anybody,” He retorted. Bringing the topic back to the previous one, he asked. “What use is it to you?” He finished his drink and pushed it forward. The bar tender pointed towards his empty bottle and Carlos nodded. He threw another $4.50 on the table and looked at Aaliyah, whom fell silent. “So?” He asked pressingly.

She felt reluctant in answering that particular question. She hardly knew this man. However, she went against her instincts and answered.

“It’s not,” She lied. “But I’m thinking it might be if I can collect them all.” She added as she fingered the chain inside her pocket. Even now, the Pendant was heavy and she could feel it weighing her down.

“Collect them all?” Carlos asked. “How do you know how many there are?” He handed Mickey the $4.50 with a pleasant thank-you before turning his attention back towards Aaliyah.

“Sources,” She remarked with a smile.

Carlos smirked. “I assume you have one,” He said as he dug through his pockets for a brief moment. He pulled out something that glistened underneath the dim lights within the bar. “Well... I’ve got one as well.” He added as he put it before Aaliyah. He leaned forward and looked her in the eyes. “I’m not here to steal from you; I’m trying to find these. I’m not sure why, but they must carry some meaning; why else would they be here?”

She reached forward and picked up the Pendant. She examined it thoroughly and compared it to her own. The thin chain was exactly the same. Long, sturdy and made of some difference substance than any she recognized. She and Michael had often tried to find the particular material that these Pendants were made of, but they found no matches. Additionally, the links were solid and sturdy; unbreakable by the hands of a human.

“Look familiar?” He asked as he leaned back on his stool.

“It’s slightly different from my own. Regardless, ___ is inscribed on it, so it must be one.” She said as she handed him the Pendant back. “Wear it.” She added.

Carlos paused momentarily and looked as though he didn’t know what to say. “I can’t...” He finally said. “Nobody can.” He added doubtfully as he slid the chain around his neck. In the most mysterious manner the chain seemingly slipped off, as though it had went through his neck. Carlos smirked as it fell to his lap.

She fully expected that to happen, because even she hadn’t found anyone able to wear these Pendants. The chains would mysteriously fall off everyone’s neck but her own. This was also her own little secret. If anybody -human or ___ alike, found out that she could wear them, than undoubtedly, someone would come after her. Still, being able to wear them didn't draw her any closer to the answers she was looking for. Because of this, she decided to share what little information she had with Carlos.

“You seem like a nice guy, and yes, I do have some information that I could share with you. If you’re willing to wait until tomorrow you can meet me at a Cafe down the street. I’ll be with my friend Michael and we’ll be going over some things. You’re more than welcome to come if you want.” She said as she called Mickey over.

“Certainly, as long as you’re there, what time in particular?” Carlos asked curiously.

She asked Mickey for a pen and paper and wrote down the address and time. She slid it over to Carlos with a smile. He picked it up and flipped it over. Once he saw her number he looked up at her and smiled.

“Try not to do anything stupid in the mean time.” She told him as she picked up her Pendant and slid it around her neck. It fell in front of her chest but it didn’t fall off. She looked up to him with a smirk and took her leave.

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Chapter 2 - Aaliyah