#fly ash bricks price near me

[chhikarabuilders]

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[shalomanna]

EXODUS • by Megan Arkenberg

From her balcony by the Nile, Hatshepsut looked out over the land of Egypt and wept. There was nothing else to do.

Her once-delicate hands, now marred by burns and plague scars, clenched tightly around the balcony railing. From the mud-brick houses and straw huts clustered at the foot of her half-completed tomb, she could hear slaves singing in a mixture of Hebrew and Egyptian as they gathered their meager belongings. They can sing, the pharaoh thought bitterly. Their children are alive.

She went back into her bedchamber, where the gauze curtains stirred listlessly as she passed. No other breeze came to ease the humidity, just as no rain had come to clean the bloody rivers and no sun shone to dispel the darkness. Without her maid-servants, the chamber seemed oppressively empty.

Hatshepsut removed her flax sandals and sank into a chair near the courtyard door; from there, she could see the Nile lotus-garden where she had pulled the tiny Hebrew baby up from the river all those years ago. It was thick and overgrown now, covered with weeds and thick with ash and silt. She had meant to have it cleaned for the celebration marking the start of her daughter’s sixteenth summer.

It’s just as well, she thought, looking out her window at the tomb where Neferure would soon be laid to rest, that there are no slaves left to do it.

“Moses,” she said aloud, and buried her face in her hands. He had been as precious to her as Neferure, once, when she was twelve and foolish and didn’t know what it was to be a mother. A new flood of hot tears ran down from her eyes. If she had not been so eager to draw Moses out of the water, would Neferure still be alive?

“Pharaoh.”

Hatshepsut jumped at the voice, struggling to hide her tears before she recognized the young man addressing her. It was Senemut, Neferure’s teacher, the khol and malachite around his eyes smudged down to his high cheekbones. He knows my sorrow, the pharaoh thought, and met his gaze without shame.

“The man is waiting for you in the antechamber,” Senemut said, bowing low. “The Hebrew.”

Hatshepsut straightened in her chair. “Send him to me.”

By the time Moses came in, she had managed to compose herself fit for a royal audience. “I have already sent word that your people are to be freed,” she said. “What more can you ask of me?”

He shook his head, a strange, almost gentle look in his brown eyes. “Nothing more. I only wanted… Mother…”

She flinched at the word, raising a hand as if to ward off a blow. The silence hung heavy in the room for a moment, as heavy as the moisture beading on the curtains. At last, she seemed to regain her breath. “What god do you serve, Moses, that he exacts such a terrible price for disobedience?”

“The Lord’s choices are more than any of us can predict,” he said. “Why were you so stubborn?”

“I don’t know!” The words came out more fiercely than she intended. “I don’t know. If I had only known…”

“‘A great cry will be heard in Egypt,’ you said.”

“Yes. I just didn’t know it would be my own.” She turned away from him, covering her face with one hand and choking back a sob.

“I will pray for you,” Moses said softly. “You, and all who have lost a child.”

“I don’t want your prayers,” she said. “I want you to go. Go! Now, before I change my mind and extract vengeance on your people. There is nothing more your god can do to punish me.”

“Mother… Hatshepsut…”

She said nothing. After a few moments, she heart the soft sound of his footsteps fading away.

The singing in the streets was getting louder, but underneath it, Hatshepsut could hear another sound growing. Deep and shrill at once, like music from a pair of harpists, it made her bones feel like ice. The mothers and fathers of Egypt had woken.

“Take your people, Moses,” she said, her eyes burning. “And let my people go.”

--------ABOUT THE AUTOR

Megan Arkenberg is a writer and poet from Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Her work has appeared in many webzines and anthologies, including The Lorelei Signal, Rose & Thorn, A Fly in Amber, and numerous haiku and tanka publications.

[rodidustsupplier]

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[trinuviel]

What D and D should have included in Daenerys’ arc but didn’t...

1) Her ordering the Unsullied to kill all freeborn teenage boys (those wearing a tokar) in Astapor. And then showing them killing those children - because teenagers are still children!

"Unsullied!" Dany galloped before them, her silver-gold braid flying behind her, her bell chiming with every stride. "Slay the Good Masters, slay the soldiers, slay every man who wears a tokar or holds a whip, but harm no child under twelve, and strike the chains off every slave you see." She raised the harpy's fingers in the air . . . and then she flung the scourge aside. "Freedom!" she sang out. "Dracarys! Dracarys!" (ASoS, Daenerys III)

2) Dany not only allowing people to sell themselves into servitude but also taking a portion of the profits from the sales. Thus she becomes part of the slave trade without even realizing it.

“My queen?” Daario stepped forward. “The riverside is full of Meereenese, begging leave to be allowed to sell themselves to this Qartheen. They are thicker than the flies. "Dany was shocked. "They want to be slaves?” “The ones who come are well spoken and gently born, sweet queen. Such slaves are prized. In the Free Cities they will be tutors, scribes, bed slaves, even healers and priests. They will sleep in soft beds, eat rich foods, and dwell in manses. Here they have lost all, and live in fear and squalor.” “I see.” Perhaps it was not so shocking, if these tales of Astapor were true. Dany thought a moment. “Any man who wishes to sell himself into slavery may do so. Or woman.”She raised a hand. “But they may not sell their children, nor a man his wife.” “In Astapor the city took a tenth part of the price, each time a slave changed hands,” Missandei told her. “We’ll do the same,” Dany decided. Wars were won with gold as much as swords. “A tenth part. In gold or silver coin, or ivory. Meereen has no need of saffron, cloves, or zorse hides.” (ASoS, Daenerys VI)

3) Dany’s rare moments of insight and self-doubt, the moments where she recognizes her brutality but then justifies them to herself or represses them.

She had them nailed to wooden posts around the plaza, each man pointing at the next. The anger was fierce and hot inside her when she gave the command; it made her feel like an avenging dragon. But later, when she passed the men dying on the posts, when she heard their moans and smelled their bowels and blood … Dany put the glass aside, frowning. It was just. It was. I did it for the children. (ASoS, Daenerys VI)

Dany remembered the horror she had felt when she had seen the Plaza of Punishment in Astapor. I made a horror just as great, but surely they deserved it. Harsh justice is still justice. (ASoS, Daenerys VI)

“I made a horror just as great!”

All my victories turn to dross in my hands, she thought. Whatever I do, all I make is death and horror. ... The way before her was fraught with hardship, bloodshed, and danger. Ser Jorah had warned her of that. He'd warned her of so many things . . . he'd . . . No, I will not think of Jorah Mormont. (ASoS, Daenerys VI)

Mother of dragons, Daenerys thought. Mother of monsters. What have I unleashed upon the world? A queen I am, but my throne is made of burned bones, and it rests on quicksand. Without dragons, how could she hope to hold Meereen, much less win back Westeros? I am the blood of the dragon, she thought. If they are monsters, so am I. (ADwD, Daenerys II)

4) What happened in Astapor AFTER she left for Meereen. They should have showed us this, not just told us - and they did neither.

The master of the Indigo Star was Qartheen, so he wept copiously when asked about Astapor. "The city bleeds. Dead men rot unburied in the streets, each pyramid is an armed camp, and the markets have neither food nor slaves for sale. And the poor children! King Cleaver's thugs have seized every highborn boy in Astapor to make new Unsullied for the trade, though it will be years before they are trained." (ASoS, Daenerys VI)

Frog would be glad to put Astapor behind him. The Red City was the closest thing to hell he ever hoped to know. The Yunkai'i had sealed the broken gates to keep the dead and dying inside the city, but the sights that he had seen riding down those red brick streets would haunt Quentyn Martell forever. A river choked with corpses. The priestess in her torn robes, impaled upon a stake and attended by a cloud of glistening green flies. Dying men staggering through the streets, bloody and befouled. Children fighting over half-cooked puppies. The last free king of Astapor, screaming naked in the pit as he was set on by a score of starving dogs. And fires, fires everywhere. He could close his eyes and see them still: flames whirling from brick pyramids larger than any castle he had ever seen, plumes of greasy smoke coiling upward like great black snakes. When the wind blew from the south, the air smelled of smoke even here, three miles from the city. Behind its crumbling red brick walls, Astapor was still asmolder, though by now most of the great fires had burned out. Ashes floated lazy on the breeze like fat grey snowflakes. (ADwD, The Windblown)

5) Her authorizing the torture of the wineseller’s daughters.

Mercy, thought Dany. They will have the dragon's mercy. "Skahaz, I have changed my mind. Question the man sharply." "I could. Or I could question the daughters sharply whilst the father looks on. That will wring some names from him." "Do as you think best, but bring me names." Her fury was a fire in her belly. (ADwD, Daenerys II)

6) They should have SHOWED us the sack of Meereen:

She heard the city fall from half a league away, though, when the defenders’ shouts of defiance changed to cries of fear. Her dragons had roared as one in that moment, filling the night with flame. The slaves are rising, she knew at once. My sewer rats have gnawed off their chains.

When the last resistance had been crushed by the Unsullied and the sack had run its course, Dany entered her city. The dead were heaped so high before the broken gate that it took her freedmen near an hour to make a path for her silver. Joso’s Cock and the great wooden turtle that had protected it, covered with horsehides, lay abandoned within. She rode past burned buildings and broken windows, through brick streets where the gutters were choked with the stiff and swollen dead. Cheering slaves lifted bloodstained hands to her as she went by, and called her “Mother.” (ASoS, Daenerys VI)

These details would have made her descent into darkness more coherent but they wanted to have their cake and eat it too... They wanted the “badass” YAS KWEEN moments that powered the marketing of the show - but they also wanted her descent into villainy. And thus we got a narrative arc that zig-zagged between extremes of heroism and villainy in a way that had a large portion of the audience confused.

Her story is a tragedy where she ends up becoming what she originally opposed - all because her methods were as brutal as the people she fought against. She has become what she abhorred because she chose to fight inhuman brutality with her own brand of inhuman brutality. That is utterly tragic but it wasn’t something that happened overnight and not just because she lost loved ones. It was a path she stepped on when she decided to treat the Masters just as inhumanely as they treated their slaves. She didn’t rise above their brutality and savagery, she joined them - and that is her tragedy.

[cyberneticlagomorph]

>Cyberneticlagomorph is live on Caster! 🔴

>the stream opens with Jack leaving his little ranch house out in space, he nearly stubs his toe on a mammoth pile of seedlings and farming supplies that someone has delivered right to his door. He silently moves the items to the nearby empty barn while the chat starts to fill up with regulars and strangers alike

>"kingofsteves: yooo two streams in two days? It's like he almost has a schedule [emoji of a very smug looking turnip with eyebrows but no eyes]"

>jack isn't saying much, he's likely ignoring the stream or else lost in thought. Several people are yelling about space and want Jack to do some kind of tour but he probably has something else planned

>after all the items are stored he does numerous flips through the cold, thin air, aided by the lack of gravity, much to the chat's overall delight. While turning lazily in midair he just sort of watches everything swirl by

>"Today we're on the hunt for stardust at the request of one of my newer Tumblr mutuals, if you aren't following my blog already you really should as I am way more active there. "

>some kind of fancy graphic shimmies its way on screen and proclaims the urls of his other social media in true streamer fashion. Jack gives a shout out to his cousin for making said graphic and promotes her Caster channel.

>He's flying again now, swooping through the void on those strange leathery wings towards the coral market and all the wonders it holds. He is met by a chorus of curator song, the place is abuzz with activity. But instead of swooping into the market proper, he swings around to land on the deck of Mr Spirits' ship, the Skintwister.

>he is met by the usual shanties and rough-looking crew peddling their wares, those he bought the boat and fishing rod harpoon... thing from give him updates as he passes. He is looking for Mr Spirits.

>he finds the old bat deep in the belly of the Skintwister, conversing with a thick, brick shithouse of a bat. She is dripping with jewelry and fine fabrics, lounging upon a pile of gold and treasures, curled ever carefully around several very large eggs

>as old as she is, she's still very beautiful and powerful, with jaws that could easily take someone's head off. The entire chat wonders if she's single.

>"internmarce: PLEASE TELL THESE TWO BATS THAT I LOVE THEM MORE THAN I THINK I'VE EVER LOVED ANYTHING IN MY WHOLE AFTERLIFE??? [Several amorphous emojis that radiate a deep pining and thirst for affection but don't really have a shape that makes any kind of sense]"

>Mr Spirits escorts Jack back to the deck, asking him what he's come for, if he is interested in items from Mr Treasures' hoard. Mr Treasures being the bat seen just earlier. Jack asks the old skyfarer if he knows where to find stardust.

>"Ah, bold little thing you are, to hunt for something as grand as that. For the right price I can have one of my crew take you to the place you seek, but be warned this isn't an easy task." rumbles the old bat

>the chat is flooded with affectionate emojis and thirsty proposals of marriage. Jack accepts the terms and Spirits calls over another curator, the one that sold Jack his fishing rod.

>they speak in Correspondence, the language of fire and stars. It kinda hurts to see and hear but jack is doing his best to bleep it out and translate it on screen which is no small feat. According to the subtitles both captain and crewbat are discussing taking jack out to hunt 'fallen stars' , and after a few moments preparations (which jack spends bouncing around the market, window shopping), jack and the crewbat set off in a smaller vessel, out into the Lawless void yonder

>not a lot happens for quite awhile, just sailing, sometimes in silence, sometimes with odd little shanties sung by the crewbat. They call themself Mr Hooks, they're young for a curator. Maybe the species equivalent of 20 or so. They seem very sweet.

>jack isn't paying much attention to the scenery anymore, just sprawled across the little boat's deck with his head back, watching things go by. The roar of the Wilder-winds is near musical here, it tents the sails and urges the boat along at impressive speed.

>Mr Hooks slows the boat to a crawl suddenly and urges Jack to stand. It points at something in the distance, Jack has to adjust the zoom on his eye in order to see it.

>it's a long streak of light, serpentine and golden, behind it is a trail of glittering dust like glitter but base boosted. Upon further inspection, it appears that the streak of light is some sort of creature, it's a bit like a fish, a dragon, and a snake all rolled into one, with a great fiery mane around it's head and face

>"our prey" says Mr Hooks, steering the vessel back into the winds, the chat and jack both are bursting with excitement. Most of the chat wants to marry this strange glowing creature, the rest is loudly pleading that Jack not hurt it.

>the creature turns suddenly and makes a beeline for the little boat, much to everyone's alarm.

>soon its upon them, the creature now curling around the ship and by god is it MASSIVE. A titanic stellar serpent, covered in blazing eyes, and countless soft feathers. A huge fin runs the length of its spine and its head is wreathed in sun-fire, yet its eyes burn somehow brighter

>Mr Hooks gently, but firmly, grabs jack by the back of his neck as the creature begins to speak in a voice without gender or langue, a voice somehow understandable by anything and everything. Musical and clearly amused as it circles the vessel like a shark

>"hello little lost star, won't you sail away with me? Can't you hear the Wilderness calling to you? Come, chase comets and taste stories with me. Lose your Lesser skin and be a star again, won't you? Please? "

>thanks to Mr Hooks firm grip, jack is unable to move, he hesitantly, sadly refuses. The great star-thing doesn't ask again, but seems to pout, huge eyes studying the ship and its passengers.

>"til we meet again then, little star." it uncoils and zips away, leaving a thick cloud of shed feathers in its wake. They soon turn to glowing ash without the warmth of their host to keep them lit. Mr Hooks fetches something like a large ladle on a very very long pole and a simple jar from the supplies they've brought.

>jack and Hooks take turns scooping up the ash, the stardust, and pouring it into the jar until it's full to the brim. Jack holds the thing up to his face so the chat can see, his awestruck smile distorted in the glass

>"mission accomplished"

[takashi45-blog]

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