#based on a real place

[sea-salted-wolverine]

Thunder Rumble

Bumfuck nowhere is too charitable a description. It’s not even a wide spot on the highway. It’s a pull out into a dirt parking lot. A long low dark wood building sits canted away from the road. A worn yellow sign names it the Thunder Rumble. The black letters are sharp, crisp. The structure sags.

For as remote as it is, the bar is incredibly busy. Motorcycles of every imaginable make and model crowd the front row. Heavy choppers are flanked by flashy road bikes in candy colors. A rusted lime green VW bug sits in the only handicapped parking spot. It has a rainbow of shower stickers along its flanks, cartoon cats in every color. A shining cherry red Ford F350 looms over its mud-covered ancestor nearly 40 years its senior. An American muscle car and a minivan sit on either side of a recent model BMW. A surfer van and a jeep sit cuddled up on the far edge of the parking lot, the remains of a campfire between them. Sensible sedans intersperse sports cars and work trucks. The vehicular variety speaks to every walk of life converging at a single point. A single post light cast everything in shades of halogen orange.

There’s nothing around. The bar and its parking lot seem an island, sinking into the Alaskan tiaga. The sky sits in the endless twilight of a summer night. Bugs swarm.

The inside of the bar is howling loud. The patrons are as varied as their vehicles, happy, and drunk. A man plays a guitar in the corner, skilled, but not nearly loud enough to be heard. He plays for fun though, toying with the melody and the instrument and it’s all right that no one can hear.

The bartenders are busy, the long counter crowded. People spill out the door and lounge against the spit rail porch, carrying on in the cool air.

The hardened desiccated dirt and gravel of the parking lot releases dust with every step, every roll of a new tire. Cool moss and ditch weeds push up through the margins. The undergrowth of the tiaga swallows up that within a few more steps.

Hills rise up around this wide spot in the road. Sky scraping mountains rise up around them. The emptiness is eternal, inexorable. The machinery of life coats the landscape, the same scrub of tundra, the tenacious black spruce, the indestructible lichens.

Forty thousand years have not seen this place change. Millenia have passed as ephemeral as spring snow.

The bar is a tiny spot of now. The present exists untethered to the centuries on either side. A tiny oasis of civilization and the achievements of man against the vastness of eternity in every direction.

[judayre]

"Where are we," Parker asked, not opening her eyes in Lucille's passenger seat. "Just passing though Balmville," Hardison answered. "Bombville," Parker repeated, smiling. "Cool."

[tsubaki94]

Capture The flag

Here is my first ever Minecraft Map made to be played by others. It is a part of a school art project and based on a place in Gothamburg Sweaden.

I just want to share it whit the rest of the minecraft world.

http://www.minecraftworldmap.com/worlds/JCUJl#/108/64/205/-3/0/0

Hope you like it^^

[frannij-blog]

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[fattransghast]

I added some stuff in the background y/n?