#red flagstone terrace wall

[wearetatal]

Landscape River Rock

Ideas for a small traditional river rock landscaping in the backyard that is tolerant of drought.

[cassalexander]

Landscape Denver Design ideas for a small traditional drought-tolerant backyard river rock landscaping.

[mrdelamont]

Traditional Landscape - Landscape

[quotesfrommyreading]

A terraced house on a tree-lined street. Earlier today, the house rang with the sound of children's cries and adult voices,but since the last occupant took off (with her satchel) a few hours ago, it has been left to sample the morning by itself. The sun has risen over the gables of the buildings opposite and now washes through the ground-floor windows, painting the interior walls a buttery yellow and warming the grainy-red brick façade. Within shafts of sunlight, platelets of dust move as if in obedience to the rhythms of a silent waltz. From the hallway, the low murmur of accelerating traffic can be detected a few blocks away. Occasionally, the letter-box opens with a rasp to admit a plaintive leaflet.

The house gives signs of enjoying the emptiness. It is rearranging itself after the night, clearing its pipes and cracking its joints. This dignified and seasoned creature, with its coppery veins and woden feet nestled in a bed of clay, has endured much: balls bounched against its garden flanks, doors slammed in rage, headstands attempted along its corridors, the weight and sighs of electrical equipment and the probings of inexperienced plumbers into its innards. A family of four shelters in it, joined by a colony of ants around the foundations and, in spring time, by broods of robins in the chimney stack. It also lends a shoulder to a frail (or just indolent) sweet-pea which leans against the garden wall, indulging the peripatetic courtship of a circle of bees.

The house has grown into a knowledgeable witness. It has been party to early seductions, it has watched homework being written, it has observed swaddled babies freshly arrived from hospital, it has been surprised in the middle of the night by whispered conferences in the kitchen. It has experienced winter evenings when its windows were as cold as bags of frozen peas and midsummer dusks when its brick walls held the warmth of newly baked bread.

It has provided not only physical but also psychological sanctuary. It has been a guardian of identity. Over the years, its owners have returned from periods away and, on looking around them, remembered who they were. The flagstones on the ground floor speak of serenity and aged grace, while the regularity of the kitchen cabinets offers a model of unintimidating order and discipline. The dining table, with its waxy tablecloth printed with large buttercups, suggests a burst of playfulness which is thrown into relief by a sterner concrete wall near by. Along the stairs, small still-lives of eggs and lemons draw attention to the intricacy and beauty of everyday things. On a ledge beneath a window, a glass jar of cornflowers helps to resist the pull towards dejection. On the upper floor, a narrow empty room allows space for restorative thoughts to hatch, its skylight giving out onto impatient clouds migrating rapidly over cranes and chimney pots.

Although this house may lack solutions to a great many of its occupants' ills, its rooms nevertheless give evidence of a happiness to which architecture has made its distinctive contribution.

  —  The Architecture of Happiness (Alain de Botton)

[rabbitcruiser]

Near Bryant Park, Manhattan (No. 2)

Bryant Park is located between Fifth and Sixth Avenues and between 40th and 42nd Street, and covers 9.6 acres (3.9 ha). Although technically the Main Branch of the New York Public Library is located within the park, in design it forms the eastern boundary of the park's green space, making Sixth Avenue the park's primary entrance. Bryant Park is used mostly as a passive recreation space, and lacks active sports facilities. Bryant Park is located several steps above the surrounding streets and is enclosed throughout with a retaining wall. Granite stairs at several locations provide access from the surrounding sidewalks.

One of the park's largest features is a large lawn located slightly below the level of the surrounding walkways. Besides serving as a "lunchroom" for office workers, the lawn serves as the seating area for some of the park's major events, such as Bryant Park Movie Nights, Broadway in Bryant Park, and Square Dance. The lawn's season runs from February until October, when it is closed to make way for Bank of America Winter Village.

There are numerous walkways surrounding the central lawn. The northern and southern sides are each flanked by two flagstone walkways. Each of these walkways are bordered by London plane trees (platanus acerifolia), which contribute to the park's European feel. In addition, numerous statues are scattered throughout the park. One of the walkways contains a trapdoor, which conceals a power supply that is used to power the Winter Village. A raised terrace on the eastern side of the lawn, which dates to the construction of the NYPL's Main Branch, is paved with gray flagstones and red brick. Its centerpiece is the William Cullen Bryant Memorial, which is raised on a pedestal of its own.

A restroom structure is located at the northern border of the park along 42nd Street. A carousel, installed in 2002, is located at the park's southern border. The park is served by the New York City Subway's 7, <7>​​, B, ​D, ​F, <F>, and ​M trains at 42nd Street–Bryant Park/Fifth Avenue station, entrances to which are located on the northern and western borders of the park, as well as MTA Regional Bus Operations' M1, M2, M3, M4, M5, M7, M42, M55 and Q32 routes.

Source: Wikipedia

[myshortstoryproject]

The village we were building at the bottom of our garden was going to be an unparalleled feat of DIY engineering. I could see it perfectly in my head; it was going to be the coolest place to hang out, straight out of a book. We’d lie in our little houses, safe from the rain drumming on the roof, reading and sharing snacks and gossiping about nothing. There weren’t any trees available to us to build the perfect treehouse, so this would have to do: a thin strip of patchy grass hemmed in on one side by the fence at the edge of the property, on the other by the wall holding up the terrace above.

It had started with a prop housefront Chris’ dad had brought home from his job at the theatre - with a wooden palette nailed to the side it made a good enough house. It was the latter part of summer, the air hot and dry and carrying the sweet smell of the nearby orchards. Every day felt drawn out like pieces of gum, approaching that unreachable perfection of the summer holidays I’d read about, though those kids never seemed to be limited by parents forbidding them from using the plastic wrap or the grown up paint. We made do with a seemingly endless supply of wooden palettes from the neighbours’ bulk garbage which we carried down the hill with frequent breaks, two of us barely able to hold one. Long branches tied together served as a shrine, and we pictured it overgrown with vines, though none of us knew how to plant those. The longest branch was going to be a flagpole, on which our city flag would be raised and lowered to indicate our residence - we couldn’t quite figure out how to make it so that we could lower the flag, nor how to dig a hole narrow and deep enough in the hot, dry earth, so in the end it leant against the fence, the only part of our project visible to our parents up in the house.

When it was finally completed after weeks of working through the day, hammering and carrying and digging, we stood and looked upon our little empire. 5 varyingly sturdy shacks forming an alley leading up to an altar of broken flagstones, where my sister had placed an offering of leaves and flowers. Two of them had what could rightly be called a roof, one of these thatched in sheets Chris had brought home from her holiday in the Vatican, where they’d been given to her to cover up her bare shoulders in church. They were an ugly red that soon became a sun-bleached pink, and held up reasonably well when doused with a watering can. Though the four of us fit in them well enough, two people each to a house was a tight fit, and any sudden movement was liable to bring the entire structure crashing down.

Cuddled up together on the splintery wood, the summer heat quickly became unbearable. When we soon discovered that our houses were more comfortable for a host of bugs than they were for us, we took our picnic blankets and fled back to the adult part of the garden, abandoning our project without hesitation. Even as autumn came and rain rotted the wood and slowly dissolved the scraps of red fabric we refused to let our parents take it apart, the dream of our own village alive and vivid in our minds.

[nothingofvaluewaslost]

STORY: Virgin Vessels

An SF/horror story. Ebba and three of her teenage classmates black out and wake up in a cell that appears to be on an alien planet. Gore, physical unpleasantness. Mention of sexual and unpleasant themes, but no sexual content.

Virgin Vessels

By Christina Nordlander

When the Thursday PE class came around, Ebba was on her period. It hardly hurt, not even if she strained her body, but she asked to get the class off because she couldn't shower. Gudrun, the gym teacher, lean and with strongly wrinkled skin that looked suntanned even now, showed her a rest-room where she'd never been, with a bunk and a little window on the tarmac yard with the bike-stands. The floor was the same maroon lino as the corridors. It was permission to take it easy, so she lay on her back on the bunk and re-read a book she’d brought in her duffel-bag, Magician's Gambit, but forty minutes was a long time to read one thing. If it'd been the last class she could have gone home.

She walked out into the corridor and waited in the equipment room, open on the gym hall where the others in their white T-shirts stood queuing in front of vaulting-horses and springboards. Of course she would be off sick on the day they did something fun. Other than that it felt festive, being free in the gym hall.

She might have been able to leave before the others, because they were going to need a few minutes to shower and get dressed, but that felt unfair when she'd had the class off. She must have waited longer than she'd thought, because by the time she walked out through the dressing room, everyone except three people had left. Tall Anja was stretching with one foot on a bench. Claudia was still combing her black curls in the mirror over the drinking fountain, while Marielle was waiting for them by the exit.

“It's almost three o'clock,” she said. “Get a move on.”

Anja tossed her bag over her shoulder and Claudia took her jacket off the hook. They emerged in the yard together.

The air wasn't cold for November, you might have thought it was early spring. When she was a kid she'd romanticised the gym hall, especially when its red brick walls glowed red against the blue sky and looked like a fantasy palace. To the right was an empty meadow with the dark forest on the other side, to the left the deserted terraced flats. Anja pushed the scrunchie tighter up her blond ponytail and did some more stretching.

“If only all PE was apparatus gymnastics,” Claudia said. “Then even...”

Her mouth moved for a few more seconds, but Ebba couldn't hear anything.

It was over before she'd had time to panic, just a blinding light and a transient deafness. She shook her head as if she'd got water in her ears. A crow cawed over the field, a couple of guys were laughing over by the school.

“What the hell?” Claudia managed.

Anja turned her head, her eyes so large her face seemed flat.

“Did you feel it too?” she exclaimed.

The world broke off.

Two things she would remember: the light enclosed her again and something had picked her up and was sweeping her away. The bike-stand was a knee-high block of concrete on its side somewhere outside the light. She tried to pull her legs up so that it wouldn't strike them off, but she didn't know whether she could move any more.

*

She'd never passed out before, but this couldn't have been anything else. There were memories in it, not quite dreams. It felt like she'd wandered through some hallucinations, tall cities and human shapes, till it wore out her body.

When she could see again, she was in pain, but only from the hard floor. It wasn't the tarmac and grit outside the school: she was indoors. The lighting was bad, but she could see a tall window, like one of the sashed ones of an old grammar school.

Anja's thin, slightly gaunt face hovered in above hers.

“Are you all right?” she said, her voice echoing slightly.

Ebba checked and couldn't feel anything worse than the back-ache. She pushed herself away from Anja to have room to sit up. The floor was damp or just cold under her hands, and now she felt a chemical smell that didn't evoke any memories. Anja didn't let go of her yet.

“Remember you're not dreaming,” she went on. “I don't know... but I can see it, too. You're here.”

She straightened herself to let Ebba get up.

What she saw was a dungeon, almost a cliché. The walls, taller than the size of the room required – it was a bit smaller than one of the classrooms in school – consisted of dark grey stone blocks, the floor of flagstones. The ceiling looked vaulted, but the light didn't reach all the way up. All light came from the window in the wall opposite her, tall and narrow like a crossbow slit. She couldn't see anything outside, just pale light. It was warmer than it had been outside school. She pulled down the zip, but kept her jacket on. Marielle sat crouched, back against the wall, and Claudia lay stretched out on the floor. Ebba had to assume she wasn't dead. If one of them had died they would have reacted more. To her left was a door. She couldn't see much of it from this angle, but it was tall as a church door and maybe made of steel. There was a hole in the flagstones in one corner, just darkness. The masonry in the short ends of the room had waist-high buttresses like on the walls of old castles. Apart from that, there was nothing to see.

“Where are we?” she asked.

She didn't expect any answer. Anja had walked up to the door and was studying it, leaning one hand on it. She tried to laugh, but it became just a nameless little noise.

“Marielle and I woke up just a couple of minutes ago,” she said without turning her head, “your guess is as good as mine. We were here when we woke up. My mobile phone's working, but I'm not getting a signal.”

Ebba looked at her watch. The second hand was moving. It was a bit past four, but she didn't know whether it was the same day.

“Who was it?” she asked.

“I've told you I don't know!”

The anger in Anja’s voice subsided almost immediately, and she returned to the door. Claudia made a noise and raised one arm as if she was trying to beat something away from her face.

She was as unharmed as the rest of them. They got to repeat what little they knew for her.

Ebba went to the door, now that Anja had left it. It was of steel, probably thick, without a keyhole or hatch to the outside, without ornament. There was something alien about the size and curve of the handle, as long as her lower arm.

“Don't you think I've tried opening it?” Anja murmured behind her.

She tested it anyway.

“So what the hell is this?” Marielle said as Ebba went to the window.

It was placed so high, she couldn't see anything other than the bright sky. Not even Anja would reach to see outside, and she was one head taller than Ebba. She felt a chilly draught in her hair, but the air wasn't fresh. It had that smell that was too inorganic to be disgusting.

“Have we been kidnapped?” Marielle went on. “Trafficking or something?”

Anja started laughing, for real this time. It sounded almost metallic.

“Well, do you have any better suggestions?” Marielle muttered. “Who the hell kidnaps people? Girls? From a schoolyard?”

Ebba turned back towards them, one hand on the masonry.

“Aliens?” she said.

When she was younger, she'd dreamt about meeting aliens and maybe getting to go to their planet. The word sounded ugly, but they didn't laugh.

“This is a dungeon,” she went on, as if it was best to speak the thoughts out loud. “Who owns it? It must be in some...”

She couldn't imagine anything other than castles and fortresses, greater than any building where she'd been.

Claudia walked to the door and started tugging at the handle and shouting:

“Where are you? Get here! Let us out!”

That might have been the best plan any of them had. The question was whether the ones out there knew Swedish, but they were going to hear the racket. A few minutes later she was still going.

“What the hell, I'm gonna find out where we are,” Anja muttered and walked up to the window.

Ebba made room for her and went to look at the little hole in the flagstones. It was like she'd expected, a metal pipe leading down in the darkness. Did that mean they were going to be locked up here for a long time? It didn't smell, at least, that must mean that there hadn't been any prisoners before them in a while. Her sanitary pad felt swampy wet. They might not give her a new one. It was at least a day until it would pass. When she was a kid, there'd been articles in the paper warning for tampon sickness. Women's toes had blackened and fallen off because they'd been wearing the same tampon too long. It was just tampons, you couldn't get infected from pads.

She went back to the spot where she'd woken up, it would have to become hers, and curled up on her side, even though she couldn't see much of the door from there. Claudia's screaming had become more monotonous, but she didn't stop yanking at the handle. Anja got up on the bump in the wall and from there to the window. The ache in her stomach was still bearable, but there wouldn't be anything to do about it if it got worse. The decidua, that was the name of the soft layer of the womb that peeled off when you menstruated. She used to focus on it when she got pains, as if that made it better.

Anja had pulled herself up to the window. For a moment it looked like her head and shoulders had disappeared – they might have done, nothing else here was logical – but it was just the strong light flaring around her. She pushed away from the wall and landed, knees springy.

“Claudia, could you stop that frickin' racket?” she said.

Claudia turned her head. When she stopped there was another noise. It was something moving in the distance, but so slow and heavy it must have been huge. Maybe it was just on the other side of the wall, she didn't know how thick the stone blocks were.

Claudia didn't scream again, but she pulled at the handle a few more times before the door opened. Ebba got to her feet and crouched behind Claudia.

A pyramid of flesh stood in the doorway. She got the idea that its colour was irregular and perhaps changing, pink near them and grey further out in the hallway, but that might have been the light. It had no distinct head, but where it tapered towards the top was a pale eye, bigger than her head and flush with the surface. On each side moved a long boneless appendage that branched into many fingers. She couldn't see whether it had legs or a tail, its body blocked the view.

It came closer, the doorway wasn't so small that it had to squeeze together, though it looked like it could have done. Its right tentacle whipped around Claudia, but it was Ebba’s waist that it grabbed. She heard the squeak when the air was pushed out of her lungs. The dungeon wheeled around when it lifted her.

Someone gave a scream, but it wasn't she. Anja rushed crouched towards it and stabbed at the tentacle with something she was clutching in both hands. The world jerked and flashed when the creature whipped her to the side, and when she saw again, Anja lay on the floor half the room away, gasping for breath several times.

The room whirled again when the creature carried her towards the exit. The regular noise was the segments of its lower body, like a worm or a grub, contracting and stretching. She couldn't turn her head enough to see the cell, but the daylight disappeared when the door fell shut.

*

Ten minutes had passed since they'd taken Ebba, and Marielle had had to realise that she wasn't dreaming. She'd asked Anja, maybe several times, if she could see the cell and had seen the creature. When she got the reply, she didn't know what she was supposed to feel. Perhaps it was good that this was real: then there was a way out. If she'd become mentally ill, she might have had to see thick grub creatures and other madness until she died. It felt like something was pressing on her chest when she breathed in. At first it made her panic, but it didn't hurt particularly. If she got low on oxygen she might pass out.

A creature came in, the same or another. It didn't take any of them, but it put down a tall metal vessel and a large flat package wrapped in a black material that felt like paper. It smelled strong, not unpleasant, when Marielle opened it. Inside was dark meat, cold but cooked. The fluid was invisible in the pot, but it only smelled of water.

She wasn't hungry. It was only half past four. Mum and Dad and Jonas would be home. They wouldn’t have started wondering where she was.

“Do we dare to eat this?” she asked.

She turned to Anja. Claudia sat sullenly curled up with her legs pulled against her chest, but she was the one who answered:

“If they want to kill us they don't have to poison us.”

“We don't know where it's from! I mean, Ebba...”

That was as many words as she wanted to put to it. Anja stretched out flat to smell the food without touching it.

“It smells like fish,” she said.

Marielle managed a laugh, but it sounded more like sobs than anything else. It took effort to stop.

Anja took a bit of the fish, then returned to massaging her ankle. Neither Marielle nor Claudia touched the food, but she swigged a few gulps of the water. As soon as she'd quenched her thirst, she could taste something else in it, but it didn't taste bad. She still didn't drink more.

“Why did they take us here?” she asked.

Claudia let out a light noise.

“You mean you don’t get it?”

She'd put her head on its side against the knees of her jeans, her black cotton skirt rumpled around her waist. She kept her eyes on the cell door.

“No, we haven't,” Anja said.

When it came it was one word, so choked it sounded like just a noise.

“Rape.”

“That was the stupidest thing I've heard!” Anja said.

She stood up, a bit crouched, as if she wanted to hit Claudia.

“Why would they do that? You saw what it looked like, didn't you? It's about as likely as you wanting to have sex with them.”

Marielle couldn't stop herself from barking a laugh. Something warm rose at the bottom of her throat. Claudia's arms hardened around her knees.

“It doesn't have to be because they think we're attractive. Just to degrade us.”

The words sounded flat, as if she was putting them together without knowing what they meant.

Anja clicked her tongue.

“They may have taken us here to make us their slaves. They may have taken us here to make us their pets. They may have taken us here so their scientists or whatever the hell can communicate with us. Yes, they may have taken us here to eat us.”

She kicked a white trainer in the direction of the food package.

“They might be planning to dissect us while we're still alive. That's a lot worse than getting raped. But you know sweet fuck all, Claudia, so stop making stuff up just to freak us out.”

“Then why didn't they take any guys?”

Why would they have taken Ebba if Claudia's theory was true? She shouldn't think like that about someone who was dead or something equally bad, but they wouldn't have chosen fat Ebba over Claudia, or Anja who was sinewy and blonde, or herself. Then they didn't even have the comfort of knowing what it was going to be.

Anja sniffed and strode over to the streak of light from the window. After a few seconds, Marielle's gaze followed her. She tried to move as little as possible.

“At any rate, I don't plan to be here when they do it,” Anja said.

She got up in the window-slit and stood straight, one hand around the edge, before swinging herself through. They couldn't hear what she was saying before she poked her head back in.

“Okay, there's a vine a few yards up. If I can climb up there I might be able to get onto the roof. It's closer than climbing down. If I make it, I'll try to find my way around and unlock the door.”

“Are we high up?” Marielle asked.

Anja didn't respond. Perhaps her voice hadn't been loud enough. Anja stretched until her head disappeared above the edge of the window.

“Fingers crossed,” she said and pulled herself up.

When five minutes had passed, Marielle had to ask Claudia to help her get to the window; she wasn't as good at climbing as Anja. Claudia didn't say anything. She walked up and cradled her foot as if she was a robot. Marielle asked if she wanted to get up first, she was the lightest of them, but Claudia didn't answer.

The light was so strong, she started sneezing. When she was a kid, she'd done that when walking on a sunny street in town with Mum, and she'd wondered if it was a sign of something dangerous. Once she could see, it was like when that thing had opened the door.

They were high above ground, but in the distance were a couple of other buildings that were as high as they: pyramid-shaped like Aztec temples, but taller and narrower. Below them was a pattern of lower buildings. They were sentient, they built towers. To the left she could see the silhouette of a mountain range, and the glitter on the horizon must be the sea. Perhaps they would run in that direction if Anja succeeded.

The sun looked like the earth's, perhaps paler, but no more so than in winter. The sky was blue, but with a tinge of violet. The chemical smell was stronger here, the wind stroked across her face.

She managed to crawl up into the window so that she could stick her head out and look up. She couldn't see Anja. She would have screamed if she'd lost her grip. The roof was a long way up, almost as far as the ground. If it'd been her, she would probably have chosen to climb down, so it wouldn't be so far to fall. The blocks on the outside were rough, but her palms got sweaty when she thought about using them for support. A vine started a few body-lengths up, too far off for her to see what the leaves looked like. It gathered into a green hump where even she would have been able to climb, but it was in the way, she couldn't see anything above it.

She jumped back into the cell. Her stomach felt heavy and upset. She asked Claudia to look away and took a crap in the hole in the floor. At least she had empty pages in her notebook to wipe with. She counted afterwards: fifty-eight. Perhaps they weren't going to be in the cell that long.

She sat down in her space and started reading her German textbook to pass the time, but it made her dizzy. It reminded her too much of the time before. She could focus on the childish colouring in the illustrations and not see the stone floor, and then her body started thinking that she was in her bedroom and was going to hear Mum and Jonas walk around downstairs.

It became five o'clock. At home it would have started growing dark, but here it felt like the light was getting stronger and turning the yellow of spring. She took a pinch of fish and chewed it, and the saltiness gave a bit of new life. They wouldn't have started dinner.

“NO!” Anja's voice screamed.

The worst part was that she was still screaming it as she fell, as if she was sorry and wanted to ask for another chance. It took a long time.

“At least they didn't get her”, Claudia said.

After a few seconds she raised her head and went on:

“If they come for me, could you help me up, Marielle?”

A period of time later – but she wasn't looking at her watch any more –, something new came. She heard a roar that might have made the floor vibrate. (If she'd been dreaming, she wouldn't have felt so much.) She couldn't tell whether it was from pain. It couldn't have been anything human, and it went on longer than Anja's scream had.

*

Ebba didn't resist while it was carrying her, because it held her with her head slightly down so that blood collected there. Her eardrums swelled until she pictured them as round balls. If she had been able to break free, her head would have been smashed against the stone of the passage floor. She might not have resisted anyway; if they were taking her somewhere else, things might get better.

The corridor bent and sloped upwards. The thing put her down, crouched, in a new room that was smaller than the cell. On the floor was a pile of cloth. When the tentacle picked it up, it was a red human-sized dress. It didn't have sleeves, but the hem of the long skirt was decorated with knotted fringes.

It pushed the dress down over her head, and a few seconds later it tugged at her trouser leg. She unzipped her fly and pulled off the trousers while talking to it, irritatedly, to make it understand that she could do it herself. Something in her voice must have got through, because it let her. She'd started smoothing the dress when the creature pulled at her underpants, and she stepped out of them and didn't want to look at them. It didn't touch her after that. The dress was tight around her chest. She hadn't taken off her cotton sweater, and the grey sleeves stuck out of the arm-holes. Mum had sewn that sweater on her old sewing-machine in the kitchen. It had a machine-embroidered name tag saying EBBA WIKSÉN sewn on in the collar.

When she looked up, it had reached for something on a shelf so high she hadn't noticed it. Its tentacles returned with two objects: a knife or sword of some kind, in a dark substance that gleamed like glass, and a pointy red object that didn't look like anything she had seen. She stepped back – the dress was too long, the fringes dragged on the floor –, but it held the knife high above her while it placed the other thing, a headdress, on her head. Now it occurred to her that it looked like a helmet, perhaps exotic, with two metal bands hanging down her back, coated in red paint or lacquer. It didn't pick her up again, as if it was afraid that she would get hold of the weapon, but gave her a shove and gestured towards the corridor. Maybe things would get better.

She tried to draw a map in her head, but it hadn't been many minutes when she saw white sunlight. At first she thought the being was herding her towards an exit, but when she got to the door it was a covered bridge, as wide and tall as the corridor, all in glass or some other transparent substance. She hesitated before taking the first step, but it had to be strong enough to carry the creatures. The glass was matte with scratches under her feet. It hadn't let her put her shoes on, not even her socks.

Through the walls and roof she saw tall walls on every side, of stone with a blue shade, if it wasn't the glass colouring it. The bridge crossed an atrium. In the inner court stood creatures between green sprays of shrubbery, their pale eyes turned up at her. If they made any noise it didn't reach her.

She had to walk towards the dark opening on the other side, because the creature approached behind her. The helmet or crown sat tight around her short-cropped hair. The blood itched trickling down her thigh. It was going to fall in drops on the glass floor. It was just something that was wounded inside her, it was nothing more disgusting than a wound.

It took a few seconds before she realised what was odd about the other opening. There was no lighting, and after a few steps it got cramped around her, as if it was built for humans. The creature couldn't follow her inside. Maybe she ought to run, now that she had a chance, but she turned around and something rang on the stone floor next to her. It had thrown the sword. She squatted to pick it up, and when she turned her head, a metal door slid down over the light from the atrium. The crash made her shake.

It was dark.

She didn't dare to let go of the sword, she might not be able to find it. She staggered until her forehead and torso slammed into the door. She hit it and struggled to push it open. If there was a locking mechanism she didn't find it. She could have attacked it with the sword, but it would hardly damage the metal, and she didn't want to risk destroying it. She hadn't investigated the other end.

She walked the first steps, then crawled on the floor, sword in one fist, legs slipping in the skirt. It was far, perhaps it felt longer than if she'd been able to see, and she still didn't see any light.

It felt like she should have known. Maybe humans had a remnant of a sense like sonar for feeling the space around them, because when she hit the end of the tunnel she didn't scream, just breathed out in a long shaking sob. It wasn't fair.

Maybe it was just a rock that she could get around. Maybe it was the wall of a bend and the tunnel would continue right or left. That made her scramble up and feel the obstacle. It didn't feel like rock. It was warmer than rock, it felt more like leather than anything. If she pushed or hit it, it gave, a millimetre or two. She felt around it, but her fingertips met the stone in the walls, and the blockage continued as high as she could reach. There had to be an opening in the tunnel, and something lay pressed against it to block it. Something? She hit it and got no reaction.

“You bastard, I'm coming out!” she screamed, loud in the dark.

If it was so tightly pressed against the opening, it wouldn't hear. She stuck the sword in it.

The flesh shuddered, but not enough. It pressed as close to the walls as before. She kept screaming, curses and insults that wouldn't mean anything even if it understood them, and stabbed again. The flesh was soft to the edge.

She had to stop shouting when she started feeling trembling weakness in her arms and legs. The air was stuffy – there was nowhere for new air to get in, was there? It was impossible to know how much longer it would last. It smelled of the creature. She tried not to breathe through her nose.

The creature hadn't moved or made a noise. It might have been dead. The way out was through it.

She drove the sword in again, with a smacking sound, and this time she put her weight on it and sawed downwards. It was easy, maybe it was looser than normal flesh. The chopping-board had been wet with washing-up water while Mum sliced red pork chops. She neither heard nor felt if any fluids came out. That was better. She traced up a door, almost as tall as she, as if she was drawing it on the wall like in a freaking Hanna-Barbera film, though it took longer. She didn't want to have to crawl.

It might have been more disgusting if she'd had light. There was nothing to it, this was the only way out. She'd started mumbling “when he hollers, let him go, eeny meeny miny moe”, just in her brain so as not to use up oxygen. Dad had shouted it when she’d hesitated on the pier in Blekinge. That thought made her go on cutting her way and tearing out more lumps, as if Mum and Dad were on the other side.

The air from the corridor was going to be enough. There was no blood, she wasn't going to drown. When she'd got a few metres in, she had to turn around now and then to throw out the chunks she'd sawn off. She measured with stretched-out arms to where the masonry began. How big were they? Maybe four times this length, longer if she wasn't digging in a straight line. She was going to pretend that she was digging a tunnel. This might be less disgusting than muddy soil. When she'd whinged when she was walking in the forest with Mum and her shoes stuck in the mud, Mum had said “think about how nice it'll be to get home and have a long warm bath.” The blood was leaking out of her again. She didn't know how long it would continue.

But she'd dug further than she'd thought she'd need. Like swimming in a water-filled tunnel without knowing if it was going to open on air, except that this was thicker than something liquid. Her tunnel had become lower, she didn't have time now to make it tall enough to walk in. The headdress must have fallen off in the corridor. The hilt hurt her hand, and there wasn't much air, she had to persuade her body that it got enough oxygen in each breath. The thirst made her lick a piece of flesh, but it tasted good, almost sweet. She tore off a bit with her teeth and chewed, but convulsed when her body remembered what it was.

She had to sink down for a while to rest her arm, and then she heard a noise. It started low but grew to a roar as if something had crumbled the building itself. When it didn't stop she threw the sword and put her fingers in her ears. It barely softened the noise.

The roar died away, but now she felt a tremble in the slide of flesh where she was sitting. The walls rippled and contracted as if in cramp. Something brushed her shoulder, and it was the wall.

At first she screamed, then clarity came back. She started crawling towards the corridor. Maybe she would lose her tunnel. She didn't have time to search for the sword, it would stick in here if everything closed up.

Her forehead hit a wall of wrinkled flesh. Maybe it was possible to climb past it, but what she was breathing didn't have any more oxygen. The darkness was red.

She didn't have to die a slow death like someone buried alive, because the flesh closed around her. It pressed against her forehead and neck, her ribs creaked. Maybe it was mercy. It was like when she'd built playhouses of all the cushions in preschool and they fell in.

*

What she'd thought was death sank away. It was still dark, but there was cold new oxygen, so something must have opened. The walls had slipped back till she could move. When she crawled to the side she felt something new under her thighs, some sort of swelling in the flesh. When she pressed it with her palm it was hard, and something throbbed in it as if it was alive with a different life than the creature around her. She couldn't care about it. Her body was sore and she coughed every time she breathed out, but the pain in her ovaries had almost left her.

She groped until she found the sword and crawled back through her tunnel, until she got out into the light where the creatures waited with her clothes. She didn't want to look at what she had crawled out of. They greeted her with a sign, all at the same time. One of them took the sword from her and led her back through the corridor.

THE END

[tyrannoninja]

The Demon Beneath the Dome

A woman climbed onto the bough of a kapok tree, which twisted up from the treetop canopy. Her lissome umber-brown figure, clad with a barkcloth skirt and halter-top, sparkled with droplets of perspiration beneath the hot glow of the sun piercing through the overcast sky. She raised her hand over her eyes, surveying the green ocean of jungle as it rolled in choppy waves all around her high vantage.

To the east rose a jagged range of overgrown crags, which ran in a ring like a caldera. Covering the basin within was a vast, terraced dome glimmering of corroded gold, with a circular hole in its summit. Under the shadow cast by the crater walls, the green-stained spires and roofs of ruined masonry poked through the jungle, but there appeared no evidence of a living settlement in the proximity of these ruins.

The woman shuddered slightly as she tightened her grip on her perch. She had heard the legends, but never considered them anything more than village storytellers’ way of frightening children into good behavior. Neither had she imagined that she would ever venture within sight of a place like they had described.

Dinanga, huntress of the village of Mungu, had spent the better half of the past moon-cycle searching for her younger sister Kazadi. The memory of the girl’s abduction, with men in blood-red loincloths lunging out of the undergrowth to seize and drag her away, had haunted Dinanga’s every dream with a vivid clarity that never faded. She would have taken those men for common marauders had she not tracked them all the way to such mysterious ruins. If the old myths had spoken the truth all that time, an even more terrible fate would await Kazadi.

Within the jungle to the southwest, someone screamed.

It was not the shrieking cry of a woman, but the deeper holler of a man. Dinanga did not know whether she should investigate. If she did, it might take time away from her sister. Whatever lay in store for Kazadi, she did not want it to happen over the course of a distraction.

Again, the cry of terror burst through the leafy canopy.

Dinanga dove back into the tangled depths of the forest understory, leaping between the branches and lianas with flashing swiftness and agility. She landed on a bough overhanging a narrow game trail through the undergrowth, a cluster of foliage beside it shaking with movement.

A slim male figure tripped over a tree’s buttress root with a hoarse yelp as he emerged. Stomping behind him on muscular hind legs was a tyrannosaur. As the man struggled to get up, the reptilian brute parted its salivating, spike-fanged jaws over his back.

Dinanga took her hunting bow from her python-skin sash and sent an arrow into the tyrannosaur’s scaly green neck.

The beast’s roar and host gust of breath blew her off the branch. Rolling over the soft earth upon landing, she hopped to the man and pulled him away from the snapping jaws by the wrist. His eyes widened with shock as he shrank from her.

Dinanga shouted over the tyrannosaur’s growling. “Don’t worry, I’m here to save you!”

The world above her turned dark. The monster’s black open gullet, dripping scalding drool, filled her field of sight while the rancid stink of its breath flooded her nostrils. Sheer terror petrified every muscle within Dinanga’s cowering body.

Yet, the bone-crunching bite did not come. The tyrannosaur threw its head up with another roar, even more shrill, a bloody streak running across the side of its lower jaw. The strange man taunted it with foreign curses while brandishing a bloody-edged horn dagger.

Yanking him away from the predator’s next attack, Dinanga led him running to a tree coiled with the woody vines of a strangler fig. They climbed halfway up its height before the tyrannosaur rammed its snout into the trunk. The man slipped off and plummeted towards the beast’s gaping mouth. Dinanga seized his forearm, wrenched him up from the beast’s jaws, and tossed him onto one of the overhead branches. She jumped onto this same branch and clung to it with a tight embrace as the tree shook from the weight of the tyrannosaur smacking against it. Neither she nor the man fell off again. With a resigned snort, the dinosaur gave them one last glance with its fiery yellow eyes before lumbering off.

Dinanga, panting with exhaustion, muttered a prayer that it would find worthier prey elsewhere. The man that huddled next to her brushed leaves off his short, braided hair. Though his skin was the same brown shade as Dinanga’s, his tall, elongated stature and narrower facial features attested to an origin on the dry, open savannas that stretched beyond these jungles. The tattered loincloth wrapped around his narrow hips was cut from pebbled reptilian leather instead of the forest-dwellers’ barkcloth.

“Who are you?” she asked. “You don’t look like you’re from here.”

The man shook his head. “Call me Heri, of the clan of Deshen out on the savanna. I was barely of age when our enemies, the clan of Mendi, carried me off in a raid. I’ve been traded and dragged far across the land ever since.”

He pointed to the crisscrossing mess of welts that marred his back like a hideous, dark reddish-purple tumor. A foul taste swelled into Dinanga’s mouth. She had heard of people being captured and forced to work for others in some of the larger chiefdoms, but never had she considered the brutality forced upon many of them.

“By the spirits, you’ve been through so much,” she said. “Tell me you don’t have someone hunting you down!”

“I ran away from them many moons ago. In truth, I don’t even know where I am in this land. All I know is that I’m nowhere near my people. They must have forgotten me by now.”Heri wiped off the moisture that had welled up in his eyes.

Dinanga hugged him and smiled. “If only I knew how to bring you back to them. I have family of my own missing. Half a moon ago, a group of men in red carried my sister off. I’ve been hunting them down ever since.”

“Have you caught up with them yet?”

“Almost. My tracking has led me to this strange place with old buildings and a big dome of gold inside a crater. You heard of such a place?”

“No, but I think I know what those men want of your sister. Beg the spirits that they haven’t done it already.”

“Then I must go. You want to come along? I would like someone to fight beside me if they can.”

With a nod, Heri slipped his dagger out of its sheath and ran his finger along its bloodied edge. “You saved me from that monster. I owe you my life for it.”

##

A colossus of black stone leaned over a path of mossy flagstone as it loomed up through the mist and undergrowth. Though eroded by generations of rainfall and cloaked with overgrowth, Dinanga could make out the contour of a hunched, squatting creature with wings akin to those of a bat or pterosaur folded behind its corpulent gorilla-armed body. Six gemstones glinted as orange as fire within its long flat head, its wrinkled trunk-like snout curled between giant spider-like fangs.

It took a single glance at this megalithic monstrosity for Dinanga to step back, a cold shiver overtaking her body. The old stories had become even truer before she set foot within the ancient village this sculpture guarded.

Heri clenched harder on his dagger’s hilt. “What, by all the spirits, would that be?”

“Whatever it is, it isn’t of this earth,” Dinanga said.

They did not dare look back at the horrible statue as they tiptoed down the broad flagstone trail. On both sides of the avenue lay the crumbled, foliage-bedecked walls of stone huts amid piles of rubble, toppled columns, and potsherds. Interspersed between the buildings stood the pedestaled statues of men, women, and assorted creatures of the jungle—with none of these idols rivaling that of the alien giant in height or girth.

Every time her eyes met their unblinking gaze, Dinanga’s heartbeat paused. She murmured a prayer to her distant ancestors that they forgive her for trespassing through their former home.

As the road sloped up closer to the crater’s outer cliffs, the structures beside it reared higher than in the districts before, the columns inscribed with the faces of people and beasts supporting their upper stories. Mazes of cracked steps and raised pathways connected these former palaces and manors to one another like bridges, and to the main thoroughfare.

“Who built all this?” Heri asked. “It’s not like anything I’ve ever seen before.”

Dinanga nodded. “They say that, many generations in the past, all the villages in the jungle answered to chieftains who lived here. That monster we saw back there was their god, a spirit they respected more than any other. Nobody knows for sure what happened to the people who lived here…or that ‘spirit’ of theirs.”

The avenue ended before a towering portal hewn into the rock of the crater’s side. Chiseled into both jambs along its entryway were reliefs that each depicted a sitting creature with six orange orbs for eyes, the same species as the colossus before. The perspiration on Dinanga’s brow turned cold. Her heart pulsed in a panicked frenzy.

Drums thumped from somewhere within. The ritual was already underway! Dinanga unslung her bow and ran through the portal, with Heri close behind.

It was not pitch dark inside the passageway, like she had expected. Rather, dim green light filled the passageway from the painted grooves of reliefs on the corridor walls, as did an unpleasant whiff of urine. The first of these images on both sides portrayed a storm of flaming balls showering down from the starry heavens upon the primordial earth. The next showed human figures prostrating before these spheres, in which were rendered some of the most frightful creatures Dinanga had ever seen represented in art of any form. Some beings had dozens or even hundreds of eyes, limbs, or maws lined with fangs or tentacles; others were pocked with warts, thorns, or bone-shaped protuberances. Among them was the same six-eyed, winged entity she and Heri had seen before.

Some of the later reliefs even showed people throwing young men and women to the horrors to be devoured like poultry. Were the beasts so terrible that they intimidated early humankind into placating their carnivorous appetites? Or did these otherworldly deities offer something in return for the sacrifices? If so, what on earth would it have been?

The echoing beat of the drums escalated, joined by a droning chant. Dinanga could not waste any more time gawking at the pictures on the walls. She and Heri had to get to her sister before the girl suffered the same fate as the victims of those ancient rites.

The passage did not run straight, but twisted in zigzags that sloped up and down through the rock. Only the faint green glow of the painted reliefs, and the increasing volume of the reverberant music, guided Dinanga and Heri through the subterranean labyrinth. Once brighter daylight beamed from the hallway’s end, they slowed their running down to a skulk and crouched behind the jambs on opposite sides of the exit.

A flat, narrow promontory of rock projected from the opening, fifty feet from the crater’s inner floor. From the central hole in the vaulted ceiling of gold, a shaft of sunlight ran straight down to a broader, circular space at the walkway’s end. Ringed by megalithic pillars at its edges, this balcony supported a disk-faced platform in its center, around which men and women in red-dyed clothing chanted in an unintelligible language while clapping and beating wooden drums. Behind the altar stood a woman mantled in a more brilliant shade of red than the rest, scarlet macaw feathers woven into her dreadlocks and blood-red paint zigzagging down her face and limbs. She beat the stone of the promontory with her crooked priestess’s staff, human skulls jangling from the top of it.

On the altar lay a motionless Kazadi.

The drums and chanting built into a frenetic storm of noise that resonated to a deafening extreme underneath the crater’s domed covering. Rising alongside was a putrid odor emanating from far below the promontory. The voices of the female worshipers heightened to yipping screeches while those of their male counterparts lowered into guttural croaking.

With one final, cracking bang of the drums, the music stopped. The priestess waved her staff of skulls and shouted coarse, unfamiliar words to the ceiling.

A vast, odoriferous mess of slimy dark gray mud, strewn with bones and streaks of luminous green fluid, churned and bubbled at the bottom of the crater basin. With a flatulent gurgle, the muck rose in a mound and cracked open to reveal six orange-red eyes on a flattened black head. Behind it emerged and unfolded a pair of leathery, yellow-veined wings tipped with claws like a bat’s. Droning like an overgrown mosquito underlain with a rumbling growl, the thing flapped itself out of the slime to the promontory’s terminus.

Dinanga wrapped her trembling arms tight around her bow. She could not deny the old stories any longer. The star-demons of yore were real.

The cultists in red retreated and knelt in unison as the hulking creature landed between the megaliths on four columnar limbs that glistened with wet black bristles. Advancing on its knuckles in an apelike manner to the altar, it unfurled a wrinkled proboscis between its mandibles and extended it to Kazadi. Tentacles at its end rubbed wet trails of saliva over her skin. The girl’s arms twitched, her eyes opened wide, and she screamed.

Dinanga shot an arrow at the star-demon, piercing the wing’s thick skin. The creature’s eyes blazed brighter than embers as an echoing metallic shriek escaped its trunk. The people in red turned to face Dinanga, their teeth bared in anger.

The priestess thrust the tip of her staff in the huntress’s direction. “How dare you attack our god!”

Dinanga drew another arrow, now pointed toward the priestess. “I’ve come for my sister, witch!”

“Then get her at your risk!”

Dinanga released the arrow. The priestess dodged it with a sidestep, then vaulted over her followers in a single jump and swung her staff at the huntress. The bundle of skulls slapped Dinanga aside, throwing her to the edge of the promontory. She grabbed the lip of the walkway before she could slip off, her feet dangling in the muggy air of the basin.

Her fingernails scratched over the stony surface. The priestess stood above her with a cruel smirk as she raised her staff again.

An arm shot out from behind the priestess and wrung her away by the neck. It was Heri. Shoving the red-mantled woman to the side, he snatched Dinanga’s wrist and pulled her back onto the promontory.

One of the male worshipers punched him on the cheek and off his footing. Dinanga whacked the assailant’s brow with her bow, grabbed him by the throat, and pushed him into a group of his allies. With slashing swipes of her bow and sweeps of her legs, she fended off the remaining cultists’ attacks.

The priestess grappled her from behind and slammed her onto the rock. One kick rolled Dinanga back to the edge.

Over the clamor of the fight, Kazadi screamed again from the clutches of the star-demon’s talons. Its tentacled trunk engulfed her head, muffling her voice.

Stabbing the rock with the tip of her bow to still herself, Dinanga sprang to her feet and unleashed an arrow into one of the star-demon’s eyes. It spat Kazadi out with a screeching wail and staggered onto one of the megaliths at the terminus edge, toppling it over with a crash of its wings. The rock of the promontory quaked under the being’s confused stomping until it stumbled off the promontory and fell.

Dinanga started to run towards her sister, but the priestess leaped into her way with another swing of her staff. The huntress parried it with her bow, but the blow splintered her weapon apart.

The priestess cackled. “You’re outmatched. How will you save your sister now?”

“With my help,” Heri said.

He slashed his dagger across the priestess’s breast. She dropped her staff of skulls, which Dinanga seized and used to bat the woman off the promontory. The screams of the leader of the worshipers trailed away as she fell, finally ending with her faint splash into the muck below.

Dinanga hurried to Kazadi and embraced her. “Are you all right?”

Kazadi groaned and blinked as she wrung fetid drool out of her braids. “Where are we?”

“Wherever it is, we’re getting out as soon as we can.”

The star-demon’s surviving worshipers yelled a vengeful war cry and charged in a wall down the promontory’s remaining length. Dinanga, Kazadi, and Heri hopped onto the altar and launched themselves over the raging army. With a flurry of kicks, punches, and the slashing of Heri’s dagger, they sent the remainder of the cultists hurtling off to join their deity and priestess in the mud at the bottom of the crater.

##

Dinanga inhaled deeply and sighed with relief after they had run out of the portal on the outer side. Even the musty scent of the wild jungle was a relaxing fragrance compared to the infernal stench that had swamped the crater under the dome.

Kazadi blinked with a shake of her head. “How long has it been?”

“Why, it’s been over half a moon, sister,” Dinanga said. “Remember those old tales about the demons from beyond the stars? Those men and women in red meant to sacrifice you to one of them, like our ancient ancestors did.”

“By the spirits, you mean those stories were true all along? I can’t believe it. But at least that creature has plenty of dead to gorge upon now—if it even survived its fall.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure,” Heri said. “Its landing would have been soft down there, and who knows how hungry those things get?”

“Even so, it’s trapped under that big dome behind us,” Dinanga said. “Let it feast and then starve to death.”

A banging, crumbling crash followed, as blocks of weathered gold flew off the summit of the dome. Up soared the star-demon with a terrible droning screech, dripping wet with the dark slime of its lair. Its five good eyes scintillated with fury as it swooped down.

The three raced down the avenue through the ruins. The creature accelerated its pursuit until it emerged in front of them. As it veered to face its prey, its beating wings stirred up a gust of wind that knocked down a chunk of stone overpass to block their way. It then grabbed Kazadi with a clawed hand and raised her towards its proboscis.

Dinanga chucked one of her last arrows like a javelin into its crotch. The star-demon did not even flinch. Heri flung his dagger at it, but the star-demon evaded it with a flap that lifted it overhead. It plucked him off the ground with its other hand while half-swallowing Kazadi.

Dinanga ran to one of the piles of rubble, hauled up a hunk of masonry, and hurtled it into the star-demon’s thigh. Fluttering in the air with anguished squeals, it released Heri and reflexively vomited out Kazadi. Dinanga caught her sister in her arms and fled from underneath the reeling monster, along with Heri. They reached the colossus at the ruins’ edge, but again, the star-demon caught up with them. It landed atop its own stone likeness and jumped onto the road before them. The earth under their feet shook them onto the flagstones under the otherworldly horror’s shadow.

A deep, explosive roar resounded. It was not the star-demon. The rage in the thing’s eyes dimmed as its bristles suddenly stood on end. Breaking out from the jungle and storming towards it was the tyrannosaur.

The two beasts faced each other with an exchange of threatening roars and screeches, the tyrannosaur thrashing its head about and snapping the air while the star-demon waved its arms with wings outspread.

“We should leave now,” Heri whispered from the corner of his mouth.

Dinanga shook her head. “We can’t let the star-demon win. It must die once and for all. No one should worship it anymore.”

The tyrannosaur chomped onto the star-demon’s arm with a crunch of chitinous skin beneath the bristles. The six-eyed monster freed itself by punching its attacker in the jaws, then hooked its other arm around the tyrannosaur’s neck while clawing at it with the first. It swatted its wings in a struggling effort to lift itself off the ground with the dinosaur in its hold. The tyrannosaur, slashing across its alien adversary’s breast with a short two-clawed arm, wriggled itself loose and beat the star-demon aside with its snout. The being from beyond the heavens collided into its own statue, turning it over and smashing it to pieces with a terrific tremor.

The tyrannosaur pressed a foot onto the fallen star-demon’s belly, cracking the skin underneath and spurting out viscous yellow-green blood. The demon slapped it away with flailing forelimbs. With a push and a sweep of its wings, the wounded being pounced onto the reptilian brute and shoved it into an obelisk on the other side of the old road. The star-demon then turned its attention to the three humans, the glow of its eyes flashing with a laughing growl as it captured Dinanga in its grip.

Kazadi pried out one of the orange gemstones from the statue’s fallen face and threw it onto the creature’s hand. The gem’s sharp edge buried itself into the monster’s knuckle, enabling Dinanga to slip down from its loosened grip. The demon withdrew its other forelimb for another slashing swipe until the tyrannosaur bit onto its biceps from behind. Between those saurian jaws and teeth, the demon’s upper arm crumpled into a pulp of alien blood and bristled chitin. A final wrenching motion of the dinosaur’s head ripped the star-demon’s arm out of its socket, then the tyrannosaur delivered a crushing bite to its extraterrestrial enemy’s throat. The star-demon’s high-pitched whine broke up into a buzzing rattle as it fell onto the shattered remains of its own idol.

The tyrannosaur threw its head upward, with droplets of yellowish blood cascading from its mouth. It let out its loudest roar of triumph to the heavens.

Dinanga, Kazadi, and Heri rushed into the jungle, out of the predator’s sight. Between the buttress roots of a kapok tree, they stopped to catch their breath, all racked with strain and sweating in rivulets.

Dinanga hugged her sister with all the exhausted strength she could muster. “Thank our ancestors that I found you before it was too late.”

“Thank you both for coming to my rescue,” Kazadi said. “Who may this strange man be, may I ask?”

“Call me Heri, of the clan of Deshen over on the open plains,” he said. “I’ll tell you all about my life over the night. All I can say now is that I’m happy that’s all over with. And I get to have two pretty young women walking by my side.”

Kazadi giggled while Dinanga groaned. “You men are all the same,” Dinanga said.

Heri winked at her. “And you women are not? Maybe you’ll change your mind after a few days.”

“If that’s what you want, maybe you could start changing my mind by fetching me some wood, flint, and twine. I need a new bow and more arrows.”

Together they laughed as they walked toward the distant village of Mungu, their backs turned to the great ruined village and the domed den of its slain god.

You can read this and several more short stories in my collection Beasts & Beauties, available for purchase on Amazon.com!

[percy-the-sorcerer]

The Price of Gold

(a fantasy Percabeth royal!au) 

When Annabeth, desperate to help her family, is caught stealing from the imperial treasury by visiting Prince Perseus, she thinks her life is over. But after the guilty prince helps her escape, she soon becomes entangled in a complicated web of mystery, rebellion, and (worst of all) romance. One thing is for sure: her life will never be the same again.

This is only Chapter 1! This will be a multi-chapter. It’s my first attempt at a fantasy or a royal au, so I’m not sure it will be any good...but i hope you like it!

(read it on ff.net)

Snow swirled serenely in the cold air, slowly fluttering down to kiss the white blanket already formed on the courtyard floor.

It almost doesn’t look real, Annabeth thought. It certainly didn’t feel real, because not even in her wildest dreams did she actually think she would have ended up attempting to steal from the imperial treasury. Is it even an attempt if I have the gold in my cloak?

She pulled her hood tighter over her head and continued to walk along the narrow terrace that lined the courtyard. Annabeth could see the large gates up ahead, where she would be able to climb over the fences and run for it. Piper wouldn’t be able to flirt with the guard for much longer; she didn’t have much time left.

Her heart was pounding as she focused ahead of her. The biting, frosty air had been a blessing; most of the guards were inside, and the few outside were more focused on building a fire than investigating any cloaked figures who might be roaming the castle. If Annabeth did get caught, she would simply claim to be part of the visiting Prince’s company. She had timed her heist perfectly.

Suddenly she heard voices from inside the walls. She froze, blood curdling, and desperately looked around. Annabeth had never wished she was a mage more than she did in this moment, wishing she could disappear.

She decided to run for it. She barrelled forward…just in time to collide head on with the man who emerged into the courtyard at that moment.

They both went sprawling backwards. Annabeth hit the stone slabs hard, hissing in pain as her fingers dragged along the cold ice. Too late, she realised the bag had fallen out of her cloak. Gold coins skittered along the icy floor.

The man in front of her quickly got back to his feet, helped by an assistant, two guards behind him. His eyes, a deep sea-green colour, raked over the gold coins on the ground. “Who are you?” he demanded.

“I’m part of the foreign Prince’s company,” she said determinedly. “I’m with Prince Perseus. If you’ll excuse me—“

The man stepped forward, and two guards behind him placed their hands on the hilt of their swords. Too late, Annabeth wondered why he had two guards. She realised her mistake.

“I don’t know you,” the man said softly, before glancing at the coins once more. He looked back. “Guards, arrest this woman. She shall come with me before the King.”

The throne room was like nothing Annabeth had ever seen before. Gilded columns lined the edges of the hall, which was large and draughty. It was cruel and imposing, and Annabeth wanted to shrink into herself.

She was flanked by two guards, and in front of her was Prince Perseus. At the end of the throne room were two large thrones. They were both ornate, encrusted with jewels of multicoloured hues. One of them, the larger, more central one, was empty. A woman was sitting on the smaller throne.

As they approached the thrones, Annabeth could see the Queen of Olympia better. She had long brown hair that curtained her face and her lips were thin and tightly-pressed. Annabeth had heard of Queen Hera… and her stormy personality, which was enough to match her husband, the Storm King.

“Prince Perseus,” Hera called out, a thin veil of sweetness barely concealing the anger behind it. “I’m glad you’ve made it on time.”

“Queen Hera,” Perseus, the man she had ran into to, said loudly. “I was under the impression the King would be here.”

Hera’s eyes flashed dangerously. “He is occupied currently--but I am here. We can discuss your visit… but tell me, who is this woman that you have brought?” Hera’s gaze turned to Annabeth, who stared back at her defiantly.

“This is a thief I found,” Perseus announced. “I thought you would like to deal with her.”

A voice spoke up from the side of the hall. “Where did you find her?” A blond man dressed in a royal-red gown stepped forward from beside a column.

“Prince Jason,” Perseus greeted, inclining his head. “I found her in the courtyard with a bag of gold from the treasury. She was trying to escape.” He held forward the bag of gold, and Hera nodded at one of her guards who stepped forward and took it away.

“What is your name, thief?” Hera asked. Prince Perseus moved away to the side, meaning Hera was directly in front of Annabeth.

“Annabeth Chase, my Queen,” Annabeth said loudly.

“Where are you from? Are you from Olympia?”

“Yes, your majesty,” Annabeth said. “I’ve lived in the shadow of the palace my whole life, at the foot of Centaur Hill.”

“An area known for its thieves.” Hera glared icily at Annabeth. “Well, Annabeth from Centaur Hill, do you deny your crimes?”

Annabeth quickly ran through the possibilities in her head, but she knew there was no chance of her getting out of this one. “No, your majesty.”

Hera glanced at her guard. “How many coins are there in the bag?”

“Hundreds, your majesty,” the guard answered quickly. Hera smiled.

“Annabeth Chase, you will spend as many days in the royal jail as there are coins in that bag. You shall pay the price of gold.”

Annabeth moved forward instinctively. “No! Please, your majesty. I have two younger brothers. One of them is ill, and needs medicine. We’re poor enough as it is. And you have so much in your coffers. I promise, I would never have stolen it if it weren’t a matter of life or death. I have to look after my brothers--my father is busy enough with his job, someone needs to care for them.” Annabeth fell to her knees. “Please.”

Annabeth thought she saw sympathy on the two princes’ faces, but Hera’s face remained impassive as stone.

“You shall spend your time in jail,” Hera said frostily. “And after that, you shall be executed. You shall never see your brothers again. That is your punishment.”

“Please--” Annabeth cried.

“Take her away,” Hera commanded. “The price of gold must be paid.”

Annabeth was dragged yelling from the throne room, and just like that her fate was sealed.

Annabeth paced restlessly in her cell. The walls were blank, dark stone. She had spent several hours checking every corner and every hole of the hard rock for an escape route. There were none.

She sighed, replaying what had just happened over and over in her mind. If only I hadn’t considered this stupid idea! Annabeth stamped in frustration. What was I thinking?

Annabeth wondered what Piper, her best friend, was doing. She hoped Piper made it back to her home alright. The two girls lived next door to each other, and Annabeth knew Piper would look after her brothers.

She moved around the room in frustration, the sound of her hard boots hitting the flagstones below echoing around the dungeon. Suddenly, something caught her attention. She stopped pacing the room. As the echo of her boots died down, a sharp, loud rap against the stone continued to get louder. Someone was coming to her cell. Just as she realised this, a bright light filled her eyes and the wooden door was flung open.

It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the light. The first thing she noticed was the face of the person in the doorway. Fingers pressed to their lips, they quickly grabbed her hand and led her out of the cell. She quickly recognised him in the light of the torch--it was Prince Perseus, the man with the dark dark and green eyes...the man who had caught her stealing. Why is he here?

“We need to move quickly,” the prince whispered with urgency. “The guard will only be distracted for a few minutes. Follow me as quietly as you can.”

As he walked swiftly away, Annabeth concealed the noise of her footsteps underneath the Prince’s sharp taps. She widened her stride, forced to match his pace. He led her through a narrow passage hidden in the shadows of the wall. She followed him up a staircase, lightly lit by torches. Suddenly he stopped in his tracks.

The prince pressed his finger to his lips again as voices approached. Annabeth tuned into the conversation which echoed in the stone-filled passage.

“I shall check it out, though it’s likely to be nothing.” Annabeth recognised the voice, and quickly placed it as Prince Jason from before. “Please go and light those torches I pointed out earlier. You know how I feel about unlit torches in the dungeon.” The voice was very close to them now, just around the corner.

“Yes, my lord,” came the response from a couple of guards. As they walked away, Prince Jason wandered around the corner of the passage and saw Annabeth and Perseus.

Oh no. Annabeth thought the game was up. Then a smile lit up on Prince Jason’s face and he gave a thumbs up. He pushed past them silently, and then, in case anyone was listening in, shouted, “Nothing here.”

Annabeth sighed in relief. What is going on? Prince Jason gestured for them to follow and, ducking into an even more narrow passage. He continued to walk quietly. Forced to walk in single file, Annabeth followed both princes down this passages, hoping this wasn’t a dream.

After what seemed like an eternity, Prince Jason stopped. Annabeth couldn’t see what he was doing, but was soon greeted with silvery moon-light from above. The princes both quickly climbed up a small ladder, through a little trap door which had been carefully concealed. As Annabeth emerged, Prince Jason shut the trapdoor behind him.

Annabeth took a gasp of fresh air as she quickly looked around them, noticing the back of the palace just behind them. Have they really helped me escape?

“Just a small trick I’ve learned over the years. That one hasn’t been used in ages,” Jason said, smiling. His voice brought Annabeth to reality.

“What is going on?” she asked, her tone expressing the shock she felt.

“You have to remain quiet,” Jason said, silencing her. “We don’t want anyone to hear us.”

“We’re helping you escape, though,” Perseus said, grinning widely.

This is a dream.

“Why?” Annabeth asked. “I don’t understand.”

“You didn’t deserve that sentence. And you certainly don’t deserve to die,” Perseus said firmly.

Jason nodded in agreement. “You have to leave quickly. Go that way--” he pointed left, but Annabeth shook her head. They were on Olympus Hill, the centre of the Kingdom of Olympia. She could see Centaur Hill in front of her. “My home is that way.”

“You can’t go home right now,” Jason said firmly. “It’s too dangerous.”

“You’re coming with me, back to Atlantis,” Perseus said quietly. “Jason will tell the King and Queen I left in the early morning for a hunting trip. That will give us a few days head start. By the time they come after us, we should be back in my kingdom, and the Queen can’t get you there.”

“I can’t leave my brothers,” Annabeth protested, shaking her head.

“You’ll only be in my kingdom a few weeks,” Perseus promised. “After this has all blown over and you’re no longer a priority criminal, you can return safely.”

“But I need to look after my brothers.” She turned to Jason. “Prince Jason, please, I need to get a message to my friend, Piper. You need to tell her to look after my brothers.” She knew she was asking a lot, especially of a prince, but in this moment she was desperate.

“I’ll tell her,” Jason promised. “And I’ll make sure your brothers are well cared for. I hope to be a better ruler than my father, and a good ruler doesn’t let his subjects die on their watch.”

“Promise me,” Annabeth said, unable to trust the words of a fancily-dressed prince.

“You have my word,” Jason said.

“Now, come,” Perseus said, pulling on her arm. “We don’t have time to waste.”

“Prince Perseus--” Annabeth began, but he cut her off.

“Call me Percy,” the prince said, eyes gleaming. “No need for formalities. We’re both fugitives now.”

Unfortunately, Annabeth figured that being a fugitive was going to be the least of her problems.

[hangzhoutourismcommissionposts]

There are many hidden unknown ancient villages in Zhejiang all of which are vast in territory and resources. Buildings have white walls and black tiles, piled up by stones which make them look primitive and simple. Alleys are deep and serene, and witnessing an old man in a straw rain cape walking slowly down the flagstone path with a bamboo pole balanced on his shoulders, is what makes these obscure villages even more intriguing.  

 Yangjia Ancient Village

Yangjia Ancient Village is located at the junction of Fuyang, Lin’an and Tonglu. This remote ancient village is far from the madding crowd. Its picturesque scenery reveals a feeling of primitive simplicity and purity. Every late autumn, the old village and ancient dwellings are enveloped by ginkgo leaves and everywhere is overrun with an idyllic scent. Wide-spread ginkgo trees form a small ginkgo forest which glows golden everywhere you look.

 Especially in the early morning or at sunset, in the clouds and mist, the sunlight flickers a little through the golden leaves. When the breeze blows, the forest looks semi-transparent. Seeing the picturesque village in the background of mist and smoke from kitchen chimneys is like being in another world.

 Dawu Ancient Village

 Dawu Ancient village is a small village with a heavy influence of southern China where hard working and intelligent civilians built mountain residences by water using only locally available gray stones. Almost every residence has a window that features the pattern of a carp jumping over the dragon gate, as well as a stream flowing by at the door. Surrounded by mountains, the air is filled with the scent of soil which brings out a rustic feeling.

 Jiu Yangping

 Beautiful ancient villages like Jiu Yangping in Fuyang are far and few between.  Acknowledged as “the most beautiful mountain village of Fuyang” and one of “the prettiest hiking paths”, Jiu Yangping is situated in a valley on the mountainside of the Tangfeng Peak (also called Tang’e Peak in ancient times), the second highest peak in Fuyang. Jiu Yangping is a small mountain village in the upstream region of Xiang Stream which only has ten farmhouses built of earth and stone. Here there are flagstone mountain paths, tier upon tier of terrace fields, and towering ancient trees. After climbing over the low mountains, you’ll see natural huge rocks standing in a row on the mountain ridge, and acting as a lofty and continuous stone wall, hence its name “Stone Great Wall”.

 Chouxi Village

 Chou Stream Village, seated in Dayuan Town, Fuyang District, Zhejiang Province, is noted for its mountains, clear water and fresh air. Viewed from afar, the village is surrounded by mountains on three sides in which there are lush groves, elongated bamboos, red flowers, green willows and a stream that flows along to the village’s breeze.

 The beautiful Chou Stream Village has houses with yellow walls and black tiles in a picturesque disorder, clean-cut stairs and alleys. There are a lot of students sketching in the alleys of the village. They scatter in the corners and sit on the flagstones by twos and threes, gazing silently into the overhanging eaves, tall walls, rotten gates, and the time-flavored tranquility.

 Xiangxi Village

 There is a place in Xindeng Town, Fuyang, that lies reclusive in the valley with green hills all around it. Trees make a pleasant shade, streams make a graceful twine. The rolling, forceful, and pretty hills on the horizon resemble lotus flowers in full bloom. All the buildings look elegant with white walls and black tiles, cornice and rake angle, scattering randomly in black and white. Here is the Xiang Stream Village, which looks gentle and memorable in the background of green mountains.

 As for Xiang Stream, this village also has an abundance of gingko trees, 28 century-old ones to be exact, among which are two millennial ginkgo trees that stand in the Stone Gate Forest Park. Year after year, spring goes away and autumn comes and the ginkgo leaves always remain sparkling under the sunshine. Copper coin-like leaves fall around the trunks and pave the ground with the most romantic golden carpet.

[chriskarrtravelblog]

Ten of the best British inns

When travel can recommence, book into one of these great British inns and treasure that long overdue weekend away

The British public house has evolved over the past few decades, with old spit-and-sawdust boozers either forced to close or re-imagined into ever-more stylish, truly hospitable places to stay. Impressive menus and first-rate accommodation are now the norm. Here are ten of the best, chosen by The Good Hotel Guide.

THE ROSE AND CROWN, SNETTISHAM, NORFOLK

Roses romp over the whitewashed façade of this 14th-century village pub, created to accommodate workmen building St Mary’s church. Bedrooms are decorated in seaside colours (the unspoilt coast is two miles away) and supplied with books, magazines, posh toiletries. Dogs and children are welcome. You can drink real ale by a log fire in the cosy bar, raise a glass of Pimm’s in the walled garden. The menu runs from pub classics to more imaginative dishes. Maybe flat-iron chicken, sweet potato mash, corn of the cob, Boston beans, okra tempura.  

B&B single £100, double £120. À la carte £30. 01485 541382, roseandcrownsnettisham.co.uk 

ROSE AND CROWN, ROMALDKIRK, CO. DURHAM 

Guide readers love this 18th-century coaching inn beside the Saxon church in a quiet Teesdale village, the perfect blend of friendly local drop-in, restaurant and hotel. The owners have farmed in the area for four generations and are passionate about local produce. Chef David Hunter’s eclectic menus, in the bar and oak-panelled restaurant, include such dishes as outdoor-reared pork loin chop, colcannon, alliums, crackling, rosemary jus. Inn bedrooms have exposed beams, antiques and locally made furniture. Annexe rooms are more contemporary, with an outdoor seating area. 

B&B £120–£205, à la carte £40. 01833 650213, rose-and-crown.co.uk

THE STAR INN, HAROME, YORKSHIRE

An ancient thatched pub lies at the heart of this characterful village hostelry on the edge of the moors, with a lovely garden, and accommodation in a rustic building opposite. Bedrooms have some quirky features – a snooker table, a piano – but style and comfort are not compromised. Owner Andrew Pern holds a Michelin star for his ways with local and home-grown, shot, farmed, fished and foraged ingredients, with plenty of veggie options. A typical dish: marmalade-glazed Swaledale mallard, pickle, clove-studded ham hock tartlet, smoked apple, Yorkshire sauce. Or just order a pint and a ‘posh ploughman’s’ at the hand-carved oak bar. 

B&B £150-£240, market menu £25, à la carte £60, tasting menu £85. 01439 770397, thestaratharome.co.uk

MONTAGU ARMS, BEAULIEU, HAMPSHIRE

This tile-hung, wisteria-draped, Tudor-Jacobean-style hostelry was newly built when Sherlock Holmes’s creator, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, stayed here in 1889. In the lovely setting in the New Forest, the inn looks across Beaulieu (pronounced ‘Bewley’) water to Palace House, seat of the Montagu family since 1538, and home to the National Motor Museum. Hotel bedrooms are smart, most with a hand-made king-size bed. There is high-class cooking in the Terrace Restaurant by local man Matthew Whitefield, back from a stint at New York’s Michelin-starred Eleven Madison Park. Excellent, cheaper fare and real ales are served in Monty’s Inn.    

B&B £219–£399. Tasting menu £90, à la carte £60 (restaurant), £30 (Monty’s Inn). 01590 612324, montaguarmshotel.co.uk 

THE SUN INN, DEDHAM, ESSEX

Lovers of John Constable can borrow a bike or walk along the River Stour to explore his native Dedham Vale, from this yellow-painted, 15th-century coaching inn. The locals’ bar, lounge and beamed dining room exude comfort and bonhomie. A changing menu brings such dishes as pasta, risotto, Merrifield Farm chicken breast, leg and ham hock pie, chanterelles, creamed spinach. Individually styled bedrooms vary in size. ‘Constable’ has a half-tester bed and a view of St Mary’s Church, home to Constable’s ‘The Ascension’ and a pew dedicated to the people of Dedham, Massachusetts, whose forebears set off from here.  

B&B single £90–£135, double £150. À la carte £28.50. 01206 323351, thesuninndedham.com 

ACORN INN, EVERSHOT, DORSET

  In Thomas Hardy’s Wessex, this 16th-century coaching inn appears in Tess of the D’Urbervilles, thinly disguised as the ‘Sow and Acorn’. Individually styled bedrooms range from snug to suites. ‘Hardy’ has a carved antique four-poster. An eclectic menu includes such dishes as rump of Dorset Horn lamb, textures of onion, roasted rosemary potatoes, ewe’s curd and buttered cavolo nero, alongside a signature burger, fish and chips, Thai red chicken curry. Tess chose not to breakfast at the inn. The modern traveller should not make that mistake, when local sausages, Dorset ham, and bread from the village bakery are on offer. 

B&B £105–£230. À la carte £35. 01935 83228, acorn-inn.co.uk 

THE LORD POULETT ARMS, HINTON ST GEORGE, SOMERSET

Residents of this picturesque village have the UK’s highest life expectancy. With the gentle countryside all around, and this 17th-century thatched inn on their doorstep, they clearly can’t bear to leave. Picture flagstone floors, wooden settles, long-case clocks, quirky artworks. Bedrooms vary from the bijou with separate tiny bathroom, to spacious, with an in-room slipper bath, but all have a king- or super-king-size bed and hand-made toiletries. Local produce shines in pub classics (fish and chips, burger, steak and chips) and such modern dishes as cauliflower steak, south Indian sambar dhal, mango chutney and relish. 

B&B double £85–£110, family £160. À la carte £35. 01460 73149, lordpoulettarms.com 

THE KING’S HEAD, BLEDINGTON, OXFORDSHIRE

Ducks bob about on the stream that runs through the green in a quintessential Cotswold village, overlooked by this 16th-century inn. In a cosy bar with exposed beams and high-back settles, locals chat over pints of local ale. Bedrooms – in the main building and off a landscaped courtyard – are prettily styled, some with a pleasing Provençal feel. The food is hearty and traditional, with pub classics such as burgers made with beef from the family farm, and haddock and chips, and more imaginative fare (maybe loin of venison, crushed new potatoes, red cabbage, kale and jus). 

B&B single £80–£105, double £110–£140. À la carte £35. 01608 658365, thekingsheadinn.net 

CREGGANS INN, STRACHUR, ARGYLL AND BUTE

Sir Fitzroy Maclean, soldier, diplomat, probable inspiration for the character of James Bond, was once licensed to sell alcohol at this whitewashed 19th-century inn on the eastern shore of Loch Fyne. Bedrooms are traditionally styled, with designer fabrics and wallpaper, a view over the loch or the woodland garden. Log fires burn in bar and bistro, where the menu offers dishes from ‘land’, ‘sea’ and ‘garden’ – maybe fillet of estate venison salt baked beetroot, fondant potatoes, rosemary jus; pan-seared monkfish cheeks, chive potato cake, curried whitebait and mussel broth; vegetable risotto. Breakfast brings Loch Fyne kippers – of course. 

B&B £130–£200. À la carte £30. 01369 860279, creggans-inn.co.uk

THE BONNIE BADGER, GULLANE, EAST LOTHIAN

In a coastal village closed to Muirfield course, the old Golf Inn has been transformed into a gastropub by Michelin-starred chef Tom Kitchin, and his wife, Michaela, to showcase locally grown, fished and farmed produce.  Smart bedrooms are styled in colours reflecting the East Lothian landscape, each with a marble bathroom with walk-in shower and handmade toiletries. You can eat in the Broc Bar or in the stone-walled, beamed Stables dining room, where head chef Matthew Budge creates a modern take on pub classics. Perhaps Highland Wagyu beef burger; Borders lamb rump, haggis and potato terrine; spelt and lentil burger…  

B&B £195–£470 (£225–£595 around key golf event days). À la carte £45. 01620 621111, bonniebadger.com

The post Ten of the best British inns appeared first on Britain Magazine | The official magazine of Visit Britain | Best of British History, Royal Family,Travel and Culture.

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source https://coragemonik.wordpress.com/2020/05/01/ten-of-the-best-british-inns/

[biofunmy]

5 Rural Retreats Worthy of a Detour

There’s a town in Virginia called Rural Retreat, just off the old Lee Highway in Wythe County. The population: 1,500, give or take.

As a concept, getting away from it all has broader appeal.

This fall, Canyon Ranch — a pioneer in wellness long before it was a marketing bonanza — will open a dedicated wellness retreat among the redwoods of Woodside, Calif., to help pilgrims find a way to “a full rebirth of mind, body, spirit, and soul,” according to the company.

The less ambitious might just want a long weekend of digital detox in an isolated spot (like the Nimmo Bay Resort and its nine waterside cabins in British Columbia, reachable by helicopter), or to take a pretty drive (north along the Merritt Parkway, say, where New York fades away into Connecticut) to see the leaves change.

Far from neighbors and close to nature, these five really rural retreats are worth a detour.

From the family who changed the gastro-landscape with Blackberry Farm, this 5,200-acre compound aims to bring the same bucolic chic to another corner of the Great Smoky Mountains. There’s a common lodge — albeit up to Relais & Chateaux standards — and an array of houses built with local materials. But the most remote accommodations are out by the Firetower. (Originally built as a lookout tower in the 1950s, it’s now the anchor for a bar and restaurant, with flagstone terraces and antler chandeliers.)

The six Watchman Cabins were inspired by a 19th-century dogtrot-style house used by generations who had farmed this land in Tennessee; three of them are made of wood salvaged from the original two-story building. Each structure has a wood-burning stove, a wall of windows and a private deck overlooking unspoiled mountain terrain, along with a gigantic bathtub — for soaking after an 80-minute “inspirational hike” led by the resort’s wellness team.

Blackberry Mountain; from $1,045 (including breakfast, dinner, and some activities); 1041 The Loop Road, Walland, Tenn.

A couple of Brooklynites escaped to the Catskills in 2017, found a shabby 1962 motor lodge with a central A-frame, converted it into a 10-room hotel and injected some serious style into a one-stoplight town.

To support friends and other small businesses, the designer Megan Pflug and her artist husband J. Penry outfitted the guest rooms with vintage pieces from nearby antique shops like Chipped Tarnished and Torn: felt-and-leather headboards by Moses Nadel (a pal from the Rhode Island School of Design); bedding by Red Land Cotton that they discovered in Rhinebeck (about 40 miles south); and toiletries custom-made for them by Village Common, an apothecary in Catskill (a 25-minute drive away).

The A-frame now houses a communal kitchen and lush living room, where velvet chairs, terra cotta jugs and a collection of National Geographic back issues (found in the attic, along with the snowmobile posters that hang in some rooms) complement the handsome stone fireplace. A restaurant and wine bar are due to open in January.

Woodhouse Lodge; from about $275 (including continental breakfast); 3807 County Route 26, Greenville, N.Y.

Opened earlier this year by the art-collecting hoteliers Alex and Carrie Vik, Puro Vik is collection of 22 glass houses set among tall trees on steep hills in Chile’s Millahue Valley. Unique interiors vary according to artists who have caught the Viks’ imagination — the 19th-century Japanese painter Hiroshige, for instance, and the American blown-glass sculptor Dale Chihuly. Each house has an open-air bathtub built for two, from which the Chilean landscape is the art on display.

The North American autumn is late spring, approaching summer in South America, so everything’s in bloom — from the vineyards to the Andes. Though secluded in nature, the enclave is in walking distance from Vik Chile, the titanium-hooded sister hotel that’s bursting with eccentric design.

Puro Vik; from about $1100 (including meals, some wine and activities like horseback riding and paintball); Millahue s/n San Vicente Tagua Tagua, VI, Chile.

The Pig — at Bridge Place

The sixth in the passel of The Pig hotels in the English countryside — the owners call them “restaurants with rooms” — this five-acre Kent property revolves around the storied Bridge Place, a 17th-century mansion that masqueraded as a nightclub and playground for British rock ’n’ roll royalty in the 1970s.

That acid washed history is celebrated in the rooms and crannies in the nimbly renovated house. (See the framed vintage set lists, gold-painted beds, deep sofas and the smoke stained mantel piece.)

But those who’d like to be less dazed and confused should book one of the seven Hop Pickers’ Huts, which are set on stilts along a boardwalk by a tributary of the Nailbourne river. Each reclaimed-rustic hut has a wood-burning stove, a deep bathtub in the bedroom and things growing in planters on the porch.

Meals at all the Pigs are made with ingredients they grow, cure, forage and raise themselves, or source locally. The immaculate kitchen gardens, open to guests year-round, are there to prove it.

The Pig — at Bridge Place; from about $160; Bourne Park Road, Bridge, Canterbury, CT4 5BH, U.K.

Zuri Zanzibar Hotel & Resort

Nestled on a pristine beach in a big lagoon, this isolated idyll prides itself on being far from civilization. (Don’t stress: there is internet access.)

Fifty-five thatched bungalows and villas are scattered amid a kind of tropical park on the Indian Ocean, far enough apart to give guests privacy to meditate undisturbed. There are outdoor showers (naturally), baobab trees (known as the tree of life in these parts, with a bulbous trunk and root-like branches) and an infinity pool set back from the sea.

The sight of dhows — traditional wooden sailboats — bobbing on the horizon at sunset might help even the confirmed cynic define “mindfulness.”

For those needing an extra push, see the wooden yoga pavilion. There is a bar that spills onto the palm-studded white sand beach; a dining room festooned with African baskets; and meals flavored with lemongrass, turmeric and cardamom plucked from the hotel’s elaborate spice garden.

Zuri Zanzibar Hotel & Resort; from about $495 (including breakfast and dinner); Kendwa Beach, Zanzibar, Tanzania.

52 PLACES AND MUCH, MUCH MORE Follow our 52 Places traveler, Sebastian Modak, on Instagram as he travels the world, and discover more Travel coverage by following us on Twitter and Facebook. And sign up for our Travel Dispatch newsletter: Each week you’ll receive tips on traveling smarter, stories on hot destinations and access to photos from all over the world.

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[thearnoldtully]

Ireland: You can nibble your way around this breathtaking Cork garden

Kloë Wood, co-founder of Two Green Shoots and co-creator of the Garden of Re-Imagination near Glengarriff, Co. Cork, collecting a posy of cupani sweet pea. Picture: Denis Minihane

“Dahlia!” proclaims Adam. “Incredible plant: the flower petals are edible, but really what we want are the tubers.

By Kate Ryan Echo Live Sept 17, 2019

Excerpt:

It seems fitting that the first thing thrust under my nose on arrival is an edible plant, for that is the entire premise of The Garden of Re-Imagination.

“Absolutely everything in the garden is edible,” says Kloë.

“We want to show people how a garden isn’t just about aesthetics, it can be about discovery and nourishment too.”

Our tour about the garden starts straight away. In the crevices of the flagstones are bunches of wild strawberries — they are everywhere. Most of them have been harvested now, but there is still the odd one here and there — small, misshapen but brimming with the most gloriously intense strawberry flavour. In the entrance hall I had spied a jar of these wild strawberries macerating in brandy.

“If only you weren’t driving,” says Kloë. If only…

On the same shelf, I also spied Nasturtium seeds — poor man’s capers, peppery pickle bombs certain to brighten up those earthy, rooty flavours later in the year.

In the garden, there are pockets of Nasturtium flowers everywhere: red, orange and yellow, ivy-green leaves, tumbling over walls and terraces. The flowers, leaves and seeds are all edible — and delicious. Soon, it becomes apparent that many of the plants thriving in the edible garden have more than one use.

Read the complete article here.

from Gardening http://cityfarmer.info/ireland-you-can-nibble-your-way-around-this-breathtaking-cork-garden/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

[gillespialfredoe01806ld]

Paradise Found: Dreamy Maui Compound Makes Waves as This Week’s Most Popular Home

Say a hearty “Aloha” to this week’s most popular home on realtor.com®. A resort-style home on Maui has made waves with real estate watchers, and it’s easy to see why. The recently completed compound, with abundant indoor and outdoor living space, looks like a private hotel (in a good way!) and comes with a $13 million price tag.

This week’s runner-up is a midcentury modern gem built in Indiana by architect Ralph Robert Knapp for his own family. The 1950s-era home offers signature style including walls of glass, an open living space, and easy access to the outdoors. Grab it for only … $155,000!

Other homes causing house lovers to click this week include a Minnesota mansion with grand white columns beckoning guests, a “Fixer-Upper” inspired renovation down in San Antonio, Texas, and a modern farmhouse in celebrity-crammed Hidden Hills, CA.

We won’t ask you to dodge the popularity paparazzi! Simply scroll down and real all about this week’s most popular homes…

10. 7713 Forest Ave, Munster, IN

Price: $235,000 Why it’s here: Here’s the character you’ve been looking for. The classic three-bedroom home with hardwood floors, vaulted and beamed ceilings, and a master suite was built in 1927. Updates to this charming abode include fresh paint and new carpet. An open living and dining area with a fireplace looks ready-made for winter coziness.

Munster, IN

realtor.com

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9. Carleton Island, Cape Vincent, NY 

Price: $495,000 Why it’s here: Abandoned for 70 years, this falling-down villa has attracted loads of attention. Sadly, it will require millions above the current asking price to repair and rebuild the decrepit structure.

Cape Vincent, NY

realtor.com

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8. 290 Reed Rd, Villa Rica, GA

Price: $189,900 Why it’s here: Because it’s simply a great find! Built in 1979, this ranch-style home has been totally renovated, with tons of new finishes and updates. There’s an open floor plan with a brick fireplace, updated open kitchen with granite counters, and a large eating area overlooking the back deck and grassy yard. The finished basement also boasts a full bath, bedroom, and sitting area. 

Villa Rica, GA

realtor.com

———

7. 15223 Wayside Oaks St, San Antonio, TX

Price: $245,000 Why it’s here: Welcome to a simple modern farmhouse, which draws inspiration from Joanna Gaines (and her husband, Chip). The three-bedroom home’s open floor plan has been updated to include a gourmet kitchen that flows naturally out to the dining area. The living room with fireplace looks out to a terrace patio and pool, sun deck, porch swing, farm shed, and garden. 

San Antonio, TX

realtor.com

———

6. 1645 W 12th St, Davenport, IA

Price: $300,000 Why it’s here: Despite a pending sale, real estate watchers can’t help but take a second look here. Built in 1910, this red brick and limestone mansion was placed on the National Register of Historic Places and is close to finding a buyer willing to bring it back to its former glory. 

Davenport, IA

realtor.com

———

5. 316 William St N, Stillwater, MN 

Price: $425,000 Why it’s here: Minnesota magic! This 1890 home has an abundance of curb appeal. There’s a classic front porch out front and a wide deck in the back. The roomy six-bedroom home comes with a modern basement featuring two bedrooms and a family room of its own. 

Stillwater, MN

realtor.com

———

4. 5207 Saddle Creek Rd, Hidden Hills, CA 

Price: $6,725,000 Why it’s here: This upscale modern farmhouse is clad in reclaimed barn wood and features five bedrooms spread over 6,100 square feet of living space. The home, which sits on 3 acres, has an open floor plan with multiple seating areas and glass doors that open to a patio, pool, and spa. A gourmet kitchen includes a pantry and wine room for 500 bottles. Cheers!

Hidden Hills, CA

realtor.com

———

3. 2229 E 1st St, Duluth, MN

Price: $749,000 Why it’s here: Talk about a grand entrance. Those formal white pillars are bound to impress your dinner-party guests!

But this is no cookie-cutter modern McMansion. Built in 1905 for E.L. and Lucretia Bradley, this Colonial Revival-style home has had a major renovation. The top level, once a ballroom, is now a huge playroom. A detached garage includes a large sauna, gym, and rec room with a bar.

The updated kitchen includes stainless-steel appliances and granite counters. The formal living and dining rooms showcase wood details, since the original owner was in the lumber industry. Other fascinating features include original tile fireplaces and a wine cellar, ornate wainscoting and crown molding, and wood floors. 

Duluth, MN

realtor.com

———

2. 3513 Allens Ln, Evansville, IN

Price: $155,000 Why it’s here: This home was built in 1952 by modern home designer Ralph Robert Knapp for his own family, and its price seems to have stepped out of a different era as well. Grab this! 

Materials including redwood, flagstone, copper, and floor-to-ceiling glass were used in the construction. The three-bedroom space is anchored by a massive stone fireplace and slate floor hearth in the open living and dining area.

Original features include original kitchen cabinets, cork flooring, and radiant slab-heated floors. The home sits on nearly an acre, surrounded by grass and trees.

“It’s a great house,” says listing agent Philip R. Hooper. “It’s a really perfect example of the midcentury modern style. Not only has that style benefited from a resurgence in popularity in general, but even folks who aren’t midcentury modern fans would be drawn to the house.” He adds, “It’s simple and open, and it has a great connectivity to the outdoors.”

Evansville, IN

realtor.com

———

1. 70 Hale Hookipa Way, Kihei, HI 

Price: $12,888,000 Why it’s here: Talk about a Maui wowie. Recently completed, the compound, known as Hale Lani, resembles a private hotel. The resortlike space is completely secluded and offers jaw-dropping ocean views.

The oceanfront space is absolutely turn-key. For the price, the new owner receives a custom furnished getaway, with artwork, wall sculptures, and electronic shades already in place. The home includes three fireplaces, which probably won’t see a ton of use in this tropical locale.

The 125-bottle wine room is fully stocked, there’s a movie theater installed, and there’s a resort-sized spa. Relax in the steam room or dry sauna, work out at the gym, swim in the pool, or simply stroll the lushly landscaped grounds. “This is … truly a dream come true,” the listing description notes. Don’t wake us up!

Kihei, HI

realtor.com

The post Paradise Found: Dreamy Maui Compound Makes Waves as This Week’s Most Popular Home appeared first on Real Estate News & Insights | realtor.com®.

from DIYS https://ift.tt/2PzhhC8

[davidoespailla]

Paradise Found: Dreamy Maui Compound Makes Waves as This Week’s Most Popular Home

Say a hearty “Aloha” to this week’s most popular home on realtor.com®. A resort-style home on Maui has made waves with real estate watchers, and it’s easy to see why. The recently completed compound, with abundant indoor and outdoor living space, looks like a private hotel (in a good way!) and comes with a $13 million price tag.

This week’s runner-up is a midcentury modern gem built in Indiana by architect Ralph Robert Knapp for his own family. The 1950s-era home offers signature style including walls of glass, an open living space, and easy access to the outdoors. Grab it for only … $155,000!

Other homes causing house lovers to click this week include a Minnesota mansion with grand white columns beckoning guests, a “Fixer-Upper” inspired renovation down in San Antonio, Texas, and a modern farmhouse in celebrity-crammed Hidden Hills, CA.

We won’t ask you to dodge the popularity paparazzi! Simply scroll down and real all about this week’s most popular homes…

10. 7713 Forest Ave, Munster, IN

Price: $235,000 Why it’s here: Here’s the character you’ve been looking for. The classic three-bedroom home with hardwood floors, vaulted and beamed ceilings, and a master suite was built in 1927. Updates to this charming abode include fresh paint and new carpet. An open living and dining area with a fireplace looks ready-made for winter coziness.

Munster, IN

realtor.com

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9. Carleton Island, Cape Vincent, NY 

Price: $495,000 Why it’s here: Abandoned for 70 years, this falling-down villa has attracted loads of attention. Sadly, it will require millions above the current asking price to repair and rebuild the decrepit structure.

Cape Vincent, NY

realtor.com

———

8. 290 Reed Rd, Villa Rica, GA

Price: $189,900 Why it’s here: Because it’s simply a great find! Built in 1979, this ranch-style home has been totally renovated, with tons of new finishes and updates. There’s an open floor plan with a brick fireplace, updated open kitchen with granite counters, and a large eating area overlooking the back deck and grassy yard. The finished basement also boasts a full bath, bedroom, and sitting area. 

Villa Rica, GA

realtor.com

———

7. 15223 Wayside Oaks St, San Antonio, TX

Price: $245,000 Why it’s here: Welcome to a simple modern farmhouse, which draws inspiration from Joanna Gaines (and her husband, Chip). The three-bedroom home’s open floor plan has been updated to include a gourmet kitchen that flows naturally out to the dining area. The living room with fireplace looks out to a terrace patio and pool, sun deck, porch swing, farm shed, and garden. 

San Antonio, TX

realtor.com

———

6. 1645 W 12th St, Davenport, IA

Price: $300,000 Why it’s here: Despite a pending sale, real estate watchers can’t help but take a second look here. Built in 1910, this red brick and limestone mansion was placed on the National Register of Historic Places and is close to finding a buyer willing to bring it back to its former glory. 

Davenport, IA

realtor.com

———

5. 316 William St N, Stillwater, MN 

Price: $425,000 Why it’s here: Minnesota magic! This 1890 home has an abundance of curb appeal. There’s a classic front porch out front and a wide deck in the back. The roomy six-bedroom home comes with a modern basement featuring two bedrooms and a family room of its own. 

Stillwater, MN

realtor.com

———

4. 5207 Saddle Creek Rd, Hidden Hills, CA 

Price: $6,725,000 Why it’s here: This upscale modern farmhouse is clad in reclaimed barn wood and features five bedrooms spread over 6,100 square feet of living space. The home, which sits on 3 acres, has an open floor plan with multiple seating areas and glass doors that open to a patio, pool, and spa. A gourmet kitchen includes a pantry and wine room for 500 bottles. Cheers!

Hidden Hills, CA

realtor.com

———

3. 2229 E 1st St, Duluth, MN

Price: $749,000 Why it’s here: Talk about a grand entrance. Those formal white pillars are bound to impress your dinner-party guests!

But this is no cookie-cutter modern McMansion. Built in 1905 for E.L. and Lucretia Bradley, this Colonial Revival-style home has had a major renovation. The top level, once a ballroom, is now a huge playroom. A detached garage includes a large sauna, gym, and rec room with a bar.

The updated kitchen includes stainless-steel appliances and granite counters. The formal living and dining rooms showcase wood details, since the original owner was in the lumber industry. Other fascinating features include original tile fireplaces and a wine cellar, ornate wainscoting and crown molding, and wood floors. 

Duluth, MN

realtor.com

———

2. 3513 Allens Ln, Evansville, IN

Price: $155,000 Why it’s here: This home was built in 1952 by modern home designer Ralph Robert Knapp for his own family, and its price seems to have stepped out of a different era as well. Grab this! 

Materials including redwood, flagstone, copper, and floor-to-ceiling glass were used in the construction. The three-bedroom space is anchored by a massive stone fireplace and slate floor hearth in the open living and dining area.

Original features include original kitchen cabinets, cork flooring, and radiant slab-heated floors. The home sits on nearly an acre, surrounded by grass and trees.

“It’s a great house,” says listing agent Philip R. Hooper. “It’s a really perfect example of the midcentury modern style. Not only has that style benefited from a resurgence in popularity in general, but even folks who aren’t midcentury modern fans would be drawn to the house.” He adds, “It’s simple and open, and it has a great connectivity to the outdoors.”

Evansville, IN

realtor.com

———

1. 70 Hale Hookipa Way, Kihei, HI 

Price: $12,888,000 Why it’s here: Talk about a Maui wowie. Recently completed, the compound, known as Hale Lani, resembles a private hotel. The resortlike space is completely secluded and offers jaw-dropping ocean views.

The oceanfront space is absolutely turn-key. For the price, the new owner receives a custom furnished getaway, with artwork, wall sculptures, and electronic shades already in place. The home includes three fireplaces, which probably won’t see a ton of use in this tropical locale.

The 125-bottle wine room is fully stocked, there’s a movie theater installed, and there’s a resort-sized spa. Relax in the steam room or dry sauna, work out at the gym, swim in the pool, or simply stroll the lushly landscaped grounds. “This is … truly a dream come true,” the listing description notes. Don’t wake us up!

Kihei, HI

realtor.com

The post Paradise Found: Dreamy Maui Compound Makes Waves as This Week’s Most Popular Home appeared first on Real Estate News & Insights | realtor.com®.

Paradise Found: Dreamy Maui Compound Makes Waves as This Week’s Most Popular Home

[rabbitcruiser]

Around Bryant Park (No. 2)

Bryant Park is located between Fifth and Sixth Avenues and between 40th and 42nd Street. Although technically the Main Branch of the New York Public Library is located within the park, in practice it forms the eastern boundary of the park's green space, making Sixth Avenue the park's primary entrance. Bryant Park is used mostly as a passive recreation space, and lacks any active sports facilities. Bryant Park is located several steps above the surrounding streets and is enclosed throughout with a retaining wall. Granite stairs at several locations provide access from the surrounding sidewalks. 

One of the park's largest features is a large lawn located slightly below the level of the surrounding walkways. Besides serving as a "lunchroom" for midtown workers and a place of respite for pedestrians, the lawn also serves as the seating area for some of the park's major events, such as Bryant Park Movie Nights, Broadway in Bryant Park, and Square Dance. The lawn's season runs from February until October, when it is closed to make way for Bank of America Winter Village. 

There are numerous walkways surrounding the central lawn. The northern and southern sides are each flanked by two flagstone walkways. Each of these walkways are bordered by London plane trees (platanus acerifolia), which contribute to the park's European feel. In addition, numerous statues are scattered throughout the park. One of the walkways contains a trapdoor, which conceals a power supply that is used to power the Winter Village. A raised terrace on the eastern side of the lawn, which dates to the construction of the NYPL's Main Branch, is paved with gray flagstones and red brick. Its centerpiece is the William Cullen Bryant Memorial, which is raised on a pedestal of its own. 

A restroom structure is located at the northern border of the park along 42nd Street. A carousel, installed in 2002, is located at the park's southern border.

Source: Wikipedia