#The bottom bowl is going to have garter snakes

[two-cheese-sandwiches]

So this is a project I’ve been working on- I think it going pretty well! Hopefully these bowls will be a set of at least four, and I’m going to make a few matching mugs and plates I think… snakes are just really fun to paint :p

[itsdetachable]

I still dream of having a snake again, now that I am most of an adult and actually know what good snakekeeping is

I got a Garter Snake for my thirteenth (i think) birthday and my dad was really into keeping it (apparently my dad had a hot snake in the early/mid 70's that he devoted a room to, and he claimed when he sold it to a zoo it was enough to buy a Camaro. Unsure of just how much of that is real facts but there are ppl who can confirm he had a snake of that kind...anyways, my snake)

My snake looked like a younger Butlers Garter snake

Thery were about a foot and a half long, super cute, and we kept them in a ten gallon tank with papertowels on the bottom, a single hide and a water bowl. The books I looked up and the few websites I found said nothing about giving them any heat so none of that. My dad and I would go out and gather earthworms for the snake to eat, and a couple times we got feeder fish (rosy minnows, not goldfish) that he fished for in his water bowl.

I would take him out and he'd curl around my neck while I did things. Once I took him down to my brother's apartment to play games on one of their computers and the snake slid down my arm just far enough to pee on the desk, then climbed back up my arm. Hilarious -_-

He escaped, of course he did, and while my brother caught him once, the second time he escaped out into the stairwell and we just... never saw him again. I kept looking for him but i don't like thinking too much about where he could have ended up.

As can be seen, none of us were good snake keepers. We were doing the basics, but made bad decisions, though they were honestly made based on bad info.

Now I now only know roughly what's needed, I know where to find it and I would be able to afford the things needed.

Alas, I do NOT have the space for snake tank. I know you start small with baby snakes but eventually they'll need more room, and you'll need to beg for freezer space to store your f/t mice. It's a thing.

Anyways, not going to happen anytime soon. But someday...

[hopelikethemoon]

Birthday Plans (Javier x Pena) {MTMF} [lite smut]

Title: Birthday Plans Rating: Explicit-ish Length: 2900 Warnings: Discussions of pegging and sex toys. Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set October 26, 1998. Summary: They try to celebrate Javier’s birthday.

@grapemama​​​​ @seawhisperer​​​​ @huliabitch​​​​ @beccaplaying​​​​ @rogrsnbarnes​​​​@thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns​​​ @gooddaykate​​​​ @livasaurasrex​​​@ham4arrow​​​​@plexflexico @readsalot73​​​ @hdlynn​​​​ @lokiaddicted​​​​ @randomness501​ @fioccodineveautunnale​​  @roxypeanut​​ @snivellusim​​​​ @lukesrighthand​​​ @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts​​​​@synystersilenceinblacknwhite​​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ @exrebelshocktrooper​​​@awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie​​​​ @swhiskeys​​​​ @lady-tano​​​​ @u-wakatoshii​​ @space-floozy​​​@cable-kenobi​​​​ @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes​​​​ @findhimfives​​​​ @pedrosdoll​​​​ @frietiemeloen​​​​@arrowswithwifi​​​​ @random066​ @uncomicalhumour​​​ @heather-lynn​​​ @domino-oh-damn​​@cyarikaaa​​​​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​​ @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl​​​​  @yabby-girl​​​ @xqueenofthecraziesx​​​​ @punkass-potato​​@coredrive​​​​ @pascalesque​​​​@theduchessofkirkcaldy @queenquazar​​​​ @sabinemorans​​​​ @buckstaposition​​​​ @holkaskrosnou​​​​@yespolkadotkitty​​​​ @fleetwoodmactshirt​​​ @seeking-a-great–perhaps @kochamcie​​​​ @jaime1110​​​​@katlikeme​

“I got us something to celebrate with tonight,” Javier told you as he snaked his arms around your waist, pressing his face into the crook of your neck as you waited for your bagel at the toaster. 

You slid your hands over his forearms, leaning back against him. “Is this a bad time to tell you I accidentally planned dinner tonight with the girls?” You tilted your head, grimacing a little as you looked back at him. “I thought it might be nice.”

“Shit.” Javier sighed, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. 

You turned in his hold, draping your arms over his shoulders as you smiled up at him, “Happy Birthday, Javi.” You whispered, rising up on your toes to press your lips to his. “Wait, did you get me something for your birthday?”

He rubbed at the small of your back, “Technically, it’s for both of us.”

“Oh?” You arched a brow as you curled your fingers around the back of his neck. “Any hints?”

Javier dragged his teeth over his bottom lip, “I swallowed my pride and went back to see Rocky.”

A slow grin crept over your lips as you toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck, “You’ve got me curious now.”

“Remember a couple months back? We talked about—” He cleared his throat. “—and if I’m gonna cut my hair for Halloween, I thought you might want to,” Javier coughed awkwardly. “Again.”

Your eyes lit up, “A happy birthday indeed.” You whispered as you rose up on your toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. 

“Mommy!” Josie cried out as she stomped into the kitchen with Stevie hot on her heels. “I can’t find my Tigger.”

“You get to tell her,” Javier told you as he pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose before slipping out of your arms. 

You have him a scathing look as you crouched down to Josie’s height, laughing as Stevie attempted to knock you over with kisses. “Well, I’ve got some bad news about Tigger… but first, do you remember what we discussed about today?”

Josie’s brows furrowed together and she turned to look at her father, before looking back at you. “Is that today?” 

You nodded.

She leaned in close and whispered, “I forgot to make a card.”

“That’s alright,” You pinched her cheek, “Daddy doesn’t like a big fuss.”

Josie smiled, “Okay. But what about Tigger?”

“Stevie ate him”. You scrunched up your nose, “But don’t worry, you’ll get a new one soon.” You assured her, “Now, go wish your daddy happy birthday.”

You snatched your bagels out of the toaster as Josie bounced over to Javier at the kitchen table. 

“Happy birthday daddy!” Josie cheered as he hoisted her into his lap and she threw her arms around him. 

“Thank you, princesa.” Javier drawled out warmly as he bounced her in his arms. “Did you sleep well, sweetheart?”

She sighed heavily, looking very serious, “I had dreams.” A frown fell over her features, as you glanced back at them. “But Tigger was in them.” 

“You’ve got to remember to put your toys up,” Javier reminded her, tapping her shoulder before taking a drink of his coffee. 

“Hey, birthday boy… what do you want?”

“Just cereal.” He shrugged. 

You snorted, “Just like any other day.”

“I am easy to please.” Javier told you with a crooked grin, before masking it behind another sip of coffee. 

“I had heard otherwise,” You taunted as you smeared butter onto your bagel and sat it down on the table. “Raisin Bran?”

“Works for me.” 

“Mommy I want Pop-Tarts.” Josie told you as she reclined back against Javier’s chest. “With icing.”

“They were all out of Pop-Tarts with icing.” You informed her, “But you can have strawberry Pop-Tarts without icing.” You said as you peeled off the shiny wrapping and popped them into the toaster.

“Today is the worst day.” She huffed, “No oh-fences, daddy.”

Javier chuckled, “None taken.”

Sofía squealed, slapping her hands against the top of her high chair. “Da-da!” 

“Yes sweetheart?”

She blew a raspberry at him. 

“Ah, revenge.” You chuckled, “And to think, not that long ago there was another squirmy-raspberry-blowing baby around.”

“Me!” Josie pointed at herself with a grin. 

“Yes you.” Javier kissed the top of her head.

“Daddy how old are you?”

“Old,” Javier answered before telling her the truth, “Forty-eight.”

“Oh! That is old.”

You stifled a laugh as you poured the cereal and milk into a bowl and sat it on the table for him. “He’s lucky I’ve got a thing for old men.” You teased, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his lips.

The Pop-Tarts popped in the toaster and you circled back around to grab them for Josie, before dropping them off at her seat and finding your way back to yours.

“Eat up, we need to get you to school.” You told Josie, snapping your fingers as she slowly made her way around the table to her seat. “And we’re going out for dinner tonight with Monica and Nadia so please don’t get dirty.”

Josie scrunched up her nose, “I don’t get dirty. The dirty gets on me.” She told you with a little tilt of her head as she took a bite of her Pop Tart.

“The sass.” Javier chuckled, taking a sip of coffee. “Hey baby.”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve only got two students coming in for office hours before lunch.” He told you as he scooped up a bite of cereal. “Thought maybe…”

You arched a brow, your lips twitching upwards into a smirk. “I can do a half day.” 

“Can I do a half day?” Josie questioned, chewing with her mouth full. 

“Josie.” Javier warned. 

She chewed quickly and washed it down dramatically with her milk, “Can I do a half day?”

“No.” You shook your head. “Little girls have to go to school and daycare.” You pointed between Josie and Sofía. “So that you can play hookie when you’re older.”

Josie pouted, “Fine.” She took another bite of Pop Tart. “Why aren’t you guys married?”

You blinked, “What?”

“You and daddy are both old enough.”

Javier pinched the bridge of his nose, “Not everyone has to get married.”

You nodded your head in agreement, “And sometimes not everyone who gets married talks about getting married.”

“Are Monica and Nadia married?”

“No.” Javier shook his head, “But maybe one day they can get married.” He gave you a look. “Where’s this coming from?”

Josie drank a sip of milk, “This boy in school said he wanted to marry me and I said ‘ew!’ Because he’s not funny.”

You snorted, “Because he’s not funny?”

Josie shrugged, “Daddy makes you laugh.”

Javier met your eyes with a warm smile. “She’s got a point.”

“You’re also a little girl who doesn’t have to worry about marriage right now.”

“I know.” Josie grinned at you. “I told him that my mommy knows how to shoot people.”

Your amusement died and you covered your face as you groaned, “Josie, what the hell?”

“Swear!” She shouted, pointing a finger at you.

“Hey,” Javier snapped his fingers. “You can’t tell people that, Josie.”

“Well he doesn’t bother me anymore.” Josie shrugged, looking rather pleased with herself. 

“No wonder your teacher hates me.” You sighed, pushing your fingers through your hair as you sank back in your seat. “When did this happen?”

Josie hummed, “Last week.”

“Please don’t do it again or Tigger will not be coming back into the house.”

She gulped, “I was just…” Josie looked towards Javier with big wide eyes. “Am I in trouble.”

“Not yet.” He warned, before gesturing to her empty plate. “Go get changed for school. It’s not pajama day.” 

Josie finished off her milk, before she slid out of her seat and down the hallway back to her bedroom with Stevie trailing behind her. 

“She’s your daughter.”

“With all the piss and vinegar of her mother.” He winked at you, “So you’re down for coming back home?”

You nodded, “As long as you don’t mind sitting funny tonight.” You mused as you licked butter off your finger, holding his gaze. 

His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, “It’s a price I’m willing to pay.”

——

 The morning dragged on for a lifetime. Every time you glanced at the clock on your wall, it felt like time had gone backwards instead of forwards. 

Things were starting to slow down at the P.D. as you started training the team that would take over your position. As much as you were looking forward to moving on — you would miss it. There was nothing quite like being in the thick of things.

But you were looking forward to having more time with Javier. Like sharing an office with him at the university — it would be just like old times. 

And Josie had a point, neither of you were getting any younger. Javier was two years away from being fifty, which was a surreal realization to have.

He was also the same almost fifty-year-old that you were going to rail for his birthday. 

You beat him home, which gave you ample time to put on the newest piece of lingerie you’d picked up to celebrate with that ended up being the most expensive piece you owned. 

It was a black and silver piece; a silver satin bustier with black lace and a matching garter set that was attached to lacy black thigh highs. You had planned to wear a nice dress over it for dinner — just to drive him wild, but this was much better. 

You draped yourself on the sofa, ready to greet him the second he walked through the door. And when he did…

“Holy shit.” Javier laughed as he quickly shut and locked the door closed behind him, “Look at you.”

“You like?” You questioned as you traced your fingertips along your collarbone and dragged them down between the lace and satin that covered your breasts. 

“I fucking love it.” Javier said as he tossed his jacket off and dropped his briefcase without care. “And you were going to deprive me of this with dinner, baby?” He clicked his tongue against his teeth and shook his head. 

You bit down on your bottom lip, grinning at him as you sat up and patted the sofa beside you. “I had a plan… but I’m liking this change of plans.”

“Me too.” He agreed as he moved to sit down, loosening his tie and popping the first button.”

“Let me,” You whispered, moving to straddle his lap, your hands skimming his chest as you held his gaze. “So what did you buy?”

Javier shifted beneath you, running his hands over your thighs as he marveled at you. “Hmm?”

You rolled your hips teasingly, “What did you buy?” You questioned with a grin, tugging at his hair as you leaned in to brush your lips over his. “I’m starting to think you didn’t buy anything.”

He gave your hip a playful swat, “It vibrates.”

“Oh?” You trailed your finger down his nose. “For you?” He nodded and your grin broadened. “Bold.” 

Javier shrugged, “I got talked into it.”

“Rocky’s getting a Christmas card,” You laughed, leaning in to kiss him, letting the kiss linger. “And you’re sure?”

He nodded, his shoulders sinking as he exhaled. “I can’t think of a better way to spend my birthday.” He told you as he ran his hand up your waist, fingers telling over the curve of your breast. “And baby, I didn’t even know I was getting this today.”

You laughed softly, “I couldn’t resist.” You slid your fingers through his hair as you slowly rolled your hips. “I had this whole plan to let you see what I had under my dress before we left for dinner… just to wind you up.”

Javier snorted and shook his head, “Sounds about right.” He leaned in and caught your lip between his teeth, tugging at it lightly. “What did I ever do to end up here with you?”

You hummed thoughtfully, “I think all you had to do was be the perfect person for me.” You told him, brushing your nose against his as your breath danced over his. 

He ran his hands around to give your ass a squeeze as you ground yourself down against him. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” You smiled at him as you cradled the back of his head and kissed him. 

Javier groaned against your lips as you rolled your hips, his cock hardening against you — concealed by the fabric of his slacks and boxers beneath. You reached down between the two of you, working at the buttons of his shirt as you tugged the fabric out of his pants. 

There was plenty of time to work up to the main event. You had four hours until you had to pick the girls up and right now you wanted to tease him. To build up the moment and drag it out. 

You knew he wasn’t the most bold and daring man when it came to sex — contrary to popular belief, and you didn’t want to waste this opportunity to explore something new with him. 

Your fingers worked the last of his shirt buttons loose and your mouth descended upon the newly bared skin. Leaving open-mouthed kisses along his collarbone as your hands skimmed over his chest and stomach. 

“Fuck.” Javier swore under his breath, his hands gripping at your hips as he moved beneath you. 

You leaned down, your tongue sweeping over his nipple before biting at the soft flesh directly beside it. Javier made a quiet keening sound and your entire body throbbed in response. 

“Did you like that?” You questioned as you slid your tongue over the skin as it turned red from your teeth indents. 

Javier wound his fingers into your hair, tugging lightly as you repeated the attention to his other nipple, biting down a little harder at his skin. 

Something hit against the front door a few feet away from you and at the sound of jingling keys, you barely had a chance to grab a blanket to cover yourself with before the door swung open. 

Monica was in autopilot and it wasn’t until she had stepped inside and shut the door — locking eyes with you — before she realized what she’d walked in on. 

“Oh my god!” She cried out shielding her eyes. “I didn’t know you were home! Why are you home?” 

“Why are you here?” You questioned, eyeing the box in her hand.

“I was dropping off Javier’s gift.” Monica turned her back on both of you, “Oh my god… this is like walking in on your parents.”

“If it’s any consolation, we are mostly dressed.” Javier told her as he helped you tuck the throw around you to keep it in place. 

“I thought you were at work—“

“We were.” You both answered in unison. 

You slid off Javier’s lap, keeping the throw tight around your body. 

Javier nudged you in the thigh, gesturing to the marks you’d already left on his chest. 

You yanked a pillow out from behind him and tossed it onto his lap. “We’re decent.”

“I’m going to die.”

“Did you think we weren’t having sex?” You laughed as Monica turned around, looking absolutely mortified. 

“No! I just pretend it isn’t happening.” Monica made a face as she looked between the two of you. “I am… so sorry.”

“It could’ve been worse.” Javier retorted, reaching over to give your knee a squeeze, letting it his hand linger there. “What’d you get me? Since I told you no gifts.”

Monica made a face, “That tortilla press you were coveting.” She held the box up, “I’m just… gonna put this in the kitchen and leave.”

You watched her as she heard back into the kitchen, exchanging a look with Javier. “Oops.”

Javier raked his hand down his face, sighing heavily. “I share in the sentiment of wanting to die.”

You pinched him in the side, “Shut up.” You leaned into him, resting your cheek on his shoulder. 

Monica shielded her eyes as she walked back into the family room, “I am… so sorry. I will buy drinks or dessert tonight… something.”

“Monica, sweetheart, it’s fine.” You assured her with a soft laugh. “We should’ve gone into the bedroom.”

“No! It’s your house you can… do what you want to, wherever you want to.” Her brows rose upwards as she looked at you, “Are you actually wearing anything under there aside from those tights?”

You nodded, brushing your hair aside to show the straps of the bustier, “More covered than a bathing suit.”

“I thought that reassurance might help with how traumatized I feel but… nope.” She covered her face and groaned. “I’m going to go use brain bleach and hope I forget this before tonight.” She told you, before she ducked out of the house and her keys jingled on the other side as she locked it back. 

You turned towards Javier and pressed your face against his shoulder, “Oh my god.” You actually giggled and that sound made him wrap his arms around you and haul you into his lap sideways, knocking the pillow away. “We’ve officially scarred one of our daughters.”

“Should’ve known it would be Monica,” Javier chuckled as he kissed your neck. “Rain check?” 

“Yeah.” You played with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I don’t blame you.” 

Javier traced his fingers over your leg, “I can’t believe she…” He shook his head. “It could’ve been so much worse.”

You nuzzled at his throat, “Which is why that was going to happen in the bedroom. Well, privacy and your knees.” You tugged at his hair. “Next time.”

He squeezed your hip, “Next time.” 

[sundry-whovengerslocked]

Okay storytime because I always say on this blog how feral I am but never back it up:

When I was a kid we lived at this apartment complex and there was a boulder in front near the parking lot which sat next to a tree. I've since gone back and it's actually pretty small now that I've grown, but when I was tiny I would crawl all over it like an animal and play with the little nuts that fell down into it and sometimes throw them or collect them like I was a dragon sitting on my hoard.

when I was about ten maybe? Probably younger actually. Steve Irwin (the crocodile hunter) was one of my biggest heroes and I loved animals and nature so much. I loved to play outside and there was this section of trees near our apartment and once I went over there and picked up a snake by the end of the tail with my bare hand and proceeded to yell "look I'm Steve Irwin!" to my mother. I lucked out and it was only a garter snake but I didn't know it at the time.

in elementary school after moving to a new town, there was (It's still there) a small tree just outside the playground that I would go back to in the summertime the following years and climb in my bare feet.

At our old house there was a small but somewhat steep hill (maybe ten, eleven feet high?) going from our porch area down to the front lawn, and it was covered in rocks with blackberry bushes growing out of the cracks. We would pick some of the berries from the bottom and eat them. My mother said if I got enough she would use them to make pie. So being a feral tween who loved to climb and please my mother, clearly the only option for me was to grab a big bowl. I then went out and starting at the bottom, climbed these big rocks that I could have cracked my head open on on my own, carefully avoiding all the thorns around me, and kept going up until the bowl was full (or I reached the top). The pie was amazing if you were wondering.

In high school biology, I had a male teacher that I loved and saw as a father figure because my real father is shit , and tried very hard to please him. He was the type of fun teacher that would take the class out on "teaching" walks. He had a snake stick with him every time we went out into the woods, hoping to catch one. That entire semester, he did not catch one, although he came close. I, however, caught at least three. Once again, with my bare hands. One of them I even caught while I was wearing a dress. That one sprayed pheromones on me (a defense mechanism), and somehow although my arms stunk to high heaven managed to keep my dress clean. I also caught a frog in that class, and showed it to him. When I said "it's small though," he said it was even more impressive because the smaller ones are faster.

In other classes I walked barefoot in a stream, ran through a museum with my splitting up buddy because we wanted to see everything, fell on my ass in a river while wearing a dress under waders collecting samples, actually I wore waders in deep water multiple times knowing full well I couldn't swim, and ran ahead of the class in the woods with asthma just so I could climb a tree and sit in it while I waited for them.

also in high school I was briefly in a D&D group, and sometimes we would play with the host's nerf guns. On one occasion it was decided that the three or four boys would go against me, the only girl there, and I actually won held my own.

special mention my best friend owned farm animals and I ran barefoot through a muddy bird poop covered backyard chasing ducklings.

that's all I can think of atm but basically I'm a nut job and a feral bastard.

Tagging some mutuals to read about my chaotic dumbass shenanigans:

@gravityshifter9 @shana-rosee @onceandfuturehimbo @tuxtuxtux12 @ineffable0husbands @orangejuiceobituary

everyones appropriating feral culture these days. where were you when i was a kid eating various mosses, lichens, and flowers in the woods? where were you when i was practicing my realistic wolf howl under the moon? real ferals smash that mf reblog if you spent your entire childhood in the forest barefoot scouring the land for nutrients and growling at people!

[valentine-smith-writer]

The Imprisoned

Macy was disquieted, but the gazes of her friends were beginning to break her open.

“What do you mean are you sure? Of course we are. Don't be ridiculous.” Wes snapped, quickly jerking his head to the side and peering down the alley. “anyone who cares enough to talk is snoring as we speak.”

“Cool it, man..” Forrest said simply. “You don't gotta force her like that. I'll join you, Macy.” He approached the shaken girl, his spray can now much of the same. “Just do as I do.” His murky swamp green eyes softened her up. Macy heaved her breath and shook her own can, the metal rattling into the silence. Forrest pulled on the mask of a screech owl, his green eyes glowing through the holes. Wes took on the image of a garter snake, and Macy wore a hawk over her face. Wes turned his back to peer down to the street.

With two great streaks, the faces of the Great Men, the leaders of the nation, on the wall were replaced with huge red X marks. “There you go,” Forrest began. “Was that so hard?”

Macy stared at her hands before shaking the can again. She glanced at Forrest before spraying all over the wall. Over and over again, she drew loops, X's, dots, and letters before marking up her own jacket with the same design.

“What the hell are you doing?” Wes barked. “you're wasting paint. At this rate, we're never gonna make a dent in this crap.” Macy giggled at this, painting horns onto the face of the Mighty Leader, destroying his powerful visage. The eye of the leader seems to lock onto Macy, and with a soft click it returns to normal.

“It's fun, that's all.” The spraying stopped as Macy pulled her bird mask off her face, rubbing in the motley of paint dashing her face in crime and stuffing a cherry lollipop in her mouth. She could feel her eyes glowing, as though the red from the wall was seeping into her through those windows to the soul.

“We aren't especially here for fun...” Forrest interjected calmly. “that's not our job. Get your bag and get moving.” He cast his can aside and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah, let's not go crazy.” Wes mocked. Macy grabbed her own bag and threw her hood over the mess of blonde on her head, now freckled with scarlet dots, as the gang left out the way they came.

The night soldiered on, and the new moon hung silently in the air, invisible as though from a premature noose. Before long, Macy found herself constantly scanning the area for men in blue. Before tonight, Macy had loved blue; her whole family had embraced the color with open arms; The Free Men would invite themselves in for dinner, where they were always received well. The Free Men were as much a part of her as they were anyone else.

“Hey look.” Forrest muttered, pointing a lazy, boney finger. “That's a big one.” The water treatment plant, the largest building in the city, had new and wonderful artwork; Free Men in blue triumphing over the black-and-red stained Imprisoned. Heroes portrayed with money and a smile; with a pen and a document; a handshake and a friend; or with a pistol and a target. “Do we have anything for this… work of art, Wes?”

Wes threw down his duffel bag. It hit the ground with a heavy thud, like the weight of a thousand crimes lifted off of a new Free Man. He begins to dig through the contents, examining all manner of paints, brushes, and cans until he comes upon a terror. A small, silver can with a pin in the top, marked purple around the top edge and a deep red on the bottom.

The streetlight gives Macy of glimpse of the incoming horror and she approaches Wes. “What's this?” Her voice is wispy, and her eyes refuse to stay on Wes, or the can, or the blur of blue on the edge of her vision.

“You wanna give it a spin?” Wes chuckles, a pleased grin breaking on his face. “Just pull the pin and let it fly right at the blue on that building there. Got it?” Macy flashes her red, candy-stained teeth in a smile. Forrest shrugs and glances around, ensuring his freedoms are as far from him as possible. Wes carefully hands the device to Macy, and just like that, the responsibility leaves him.

Macy, without a second thought, pulls the pin and launches it with the same force one throws a bowling ball with directly at the building before her. The propulsion begins as thick red smoke pours out of the back of the contraption like a fog machine emptying its contents, and it smelled like a chocolate factory burning down.

The can explodes against the wall of the plant, spraying a thick cloud of red all over the mural with a massive bang and a long hiss. Uniforms are defaced. Occupations become meaningless. Faces are blotted from the world. Black splotches begin to show in the red, creating a Rorschach of patterns that mean destruction, or hope. Only the Imprisoned remain.

Macy grins madly. Her whole body was shaking with an uncanny amount of energy she'd never experienced before, a sugar rush of irresponsible and unhealthy power. In one fell swoop she'd destroyed all of her freedoms. Yet, it was all her decision; despite impending doom, despite being now Imprisoned for the rest of her life, Macy continued to laugh at the deposed mural. Wes, too, couldn't suppress his joy at such wretched destruction. He cackled the way crows do on the edge of the treeline.

Forrest shrugged it off and began to look around. “That thing sure makes a lot of noise...” he complained, aggravated.   “Is that necessary?” More blue became apparent to Forrest. He pulled his mask over his face and turned his back from the approaching Free Men.

Wes and Macy looked on in confusion. “Wouldn't work without it...” Wes began, before he too could see the blue coming to free him from his prison. “Macy, it's time to go.” Wes jerked his head towards the incoming freedom and pulled his mask over his face.

Macy stood around for a moment, staring at the welcoming men, examining them. Each one was exactly six feet tall; each one had a distinctly bald head, and striking blue eyes. Ten of these absolutely individual men were approaching the three of them, their unique tall, black boots clacking against the pavement with the volume of a great steed. Quickly they approached the three infidels and quickly the three infidels turned and ran to the hills, far away from the gaze of freedom, so they thought.

Freedom rang out in the city that night, and it sounded a loud bang against the silent freedom of the loving night. The Imprisoned were returned to the red from which they came by a blast from the beautiful blue across the way. Where the red of confinement leaked from the faces of the Imprisoned, freedom could swell every fiber of their being from beyond their necessary graves and enlighten the entire world to the sights, sounds, smells, and tastes the ten proud, unique individuals experienced that night.

[mrsgeiger]

Lessons from a through-hike

There are no limits to either time or distance, except man himself may make them. I have but to touch the wind to know these things. — Borland

I joined my friend Meagan at mile sixty-eight on the one-hundred mile Lone Star Trail in the Sam Houston National Forest last week on one of the prettiest February days we’ve had. 

The plan was to hike the last thirty or so miles of the trail (to my friend’s one hundred miles) in an effort to try something new and give her company for part of her six-day trip. With a few years of regularly attended bootcamp classes under my belt, I prepared the best I could — buying a lightweight backpack and sleeping bag and choosing carefully all that went into my pack: a three-liter Camelbak, a bowl and spoon and cup, some small tortillas and pouches of tuna, instant Starbucks coffee packets as small as my index finger, trail snacks, a headlamp, my Bible and palm-sized journal and a pen, and the few items of clothing I’d need to see me through three nights out. I had Charles to thank for making it happen and ensuring I got to the trail to meet up with Meagan that first evening, and I had my nerves — which were plenty — because I really wasn’t sure how equipped I was to carry a thirty-pound backpack or to hike long days, for several days in a row, even after those few measures of preparation.

. . . 

Being in the Sam Houston National Forest includes traversing a pine needle-lined path, muddy bayous, and crumpled bits of land where wild boars use their snouts to upturn huge swaths of the forest floor into unsightly messes. It includes swatting away mosquitos, even in February, walking through the sections of the forest that have been subjected to an ashy controlled burn, and seeing garter snakes but imagining you’ve just heard a rattler.

It’s walking with one’s head down, plodding, slogging, one foot in front of the other, grateful for the trail people who maintain the long path — whacking bushes and clearing logs, building rickety footpaths over some of the wet parts, and posting trail signs on trees to let you know you’re still where you need to be. It’s coming upon the San Jacinto River, which is swift after winter rain and muddy as the day is long. 

And it’s taking the planned thirty-five mile trip and extending it to close to fifty because the river is uncrossable to us novices. Blisters on feet. Head still down. Logging a fifteen-mile day, then nineteen, and seeing the trail out — now feeble and tired — with another ten or so. 

I do the math of the miles in my head as I hike: How far have we come and how far do we have to go? 

Friends ask when I return: Was it fun? I answer: It was awful and miserable and wonderful. Now, several days out from it: Yes, I think I’d try it again.

. . . 

The sounds at night in the forest change depending on where you go. The first night was loud with screaming frogs, I think. Other nights, coyotes howled, and then silence set in. I read in my tent one night in the Gospel of Luke and lingered on the phrase “So it was thought” with regard to Jesus’s genealogy. So it was thought that Jesus was the son of Joseph, the record of lineage begins. More than sixty generations later it continues: the son of Seth, the son of Adam, Son of God.

I like the phrase, “So it was thought.” It calls out truth from lie, God’s wisdom from conventional wisdom, matter from spirt, and all that can be seen or tasted or touched from what is taken on faith.

Walking in the forest all those long and wearying miles, I felt that in the greatest height of my pain, each step I took — with blisters squarely burning on the bottoms of my feet — somehow translated into an uplifted prayer for another. Pain for glory — isn’t that the way of things?

Walking, I prayed some unknown-to-me kinds of prayers, and I listened to Meagan sing songs and psalms in rhythm with each of her steps, in an old-world voice that called out deep emotion with control and calm.

Being away, I do not think of the world, and I am delighted to again see that a big world exists outside of the worry of politics and man-made things. Nature exists — birds, leaves, trees, decomposing matter, spider webs, rivers, and ponds. Glory be to God.

. . . 

There are a few lessons I learn: It’s worth it to keep fidgeting with your pack so that the weight doesn’t weigh on one’s shoulders (even if it takes two days to get it right). Using two hiking poles, kindly lent by a friend, can propel one forward when it feels too impossible to go on. In some kind of divine way, a good’s night sleep is just the right thing to reset perspective and hope (even when sleeping on hard ground in a tent).

And walking, like life, just requires a faithful kind of persistence even if the steps one takes are small.