#the endless blue expanse of October | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kiliinstinct · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter 22:

Rating: R for mentions of Blood from Wounds Pairing: Nalu FF.Net || AO3 [Ch: 1] ||| [Prev] | [Next] - Next Update: October 15th

---

He hazily thought he was in a dream.

Listless and floating in a blank expanse. He couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or not. No light existed, but he suspected he wouldn’t need it.

There was nothing to see. Nothing to feel. Just a yawning emptiness that wrapped around him, held him still and deadened his limbs as it slowly crawled within, filling him with the same hollowing void. The chill of the air held barely touched his senses. Licking at the edge of his skin, the waning heat of his own body protected him from its freeze.

In that great nothingness, Natsu felt peace. It washed over him in a drowsy wave like high tide.

Then again… perhaps not.

Something tickled the edge of his senses. The faintest whisper beckoned to his conscious, an insistent prickling that demanded his attention. His head felt full, too heavy as he strained his eyes in search, weakly trying to catch sight of anything.

After a lifetime in the darkness, he saw a dim light that faintly glimmered at the edges of his half-lidded eyes; It was gentle, wiping away the darkness that covered him in sweeping waves of blue. It pulled at the hollowness carved into his chest with each calming thrum. And with each pulse the light the expanse seemed to sigh as it melted away from his vision. It slowly released its hold on him after every beat. His eyes snapped open, wide and fearful when it stopped.

Terror clawed at his heart without it.

He- he needed it back. That calming, gentle light, but when he tried to shout and beg for its return, all he received was a shot of pain ripping through his damaged throat. (It was damaged? When? How? He couldn’t remember.)

Without the warm comfort of light, the dark expanse felt suffocating. It squeezed into his lungs, and forced its way past gritted teeth. It gnawed into his flesh and seeped deep into his bones. It threatened to drag his weightlessness form down into nothing, urging his eyes to close, but they couldn’t, not now. Not again.

The voice, still whispering in the back of his mind, was louder now, echoing over itself in haunting commands, a maddening cacophony that ordered his awareness to stay tethered in place.

There would be no sleep. No rest. Not yet.

‘You’re not ready yet… I will not take you.’

The eyes of a stranger flickered in his mind, but they were hauntingly familiar in their thoughtful crinkle at the corners of their smile. Natsu choked on a gasp, inhaling sharply as air rushed through his lungs. The darkness receded, melting away bit by bit to reveal the calming light he yearned for.

His body grew heavy, dragged down and further down until reality shifted and his dark world flipped until he could no longer make sense of the endless emptiness. Only the light remained, too scorching and bright and suddenly painful.

It burned.

‘It’s time to wake up, Natsu.’

A slender hand covered his eyes, cool and lifeless. Another rested gently over his barely beating heart. With a jolt, a shock of magic stabbed through his system that spiraled him into the depths, forcing him back into his body.

The weight of his soul was stifling.

Cold night air forced its way into his lungs with each desperate inhale dragging its claws through his raw throat. He tried to scream, to release the tension and agony that laced his broken voice, but every attempt caused another bout of strain to tense his muscles and stab through his being like thousands of knives. Natsu thrashed and writhed, delirious from the pain and confusion that clouded his head. With shaky fingers he kicked and scratched at anything he could reach, doing what he could to distract his mind from the jolts that never ceased to attack him.

“If you’re going to crowd me, the least you can do is HOLD him down!”

“He’s thrashing too much-”

“Wendy, you need to hold-”

“ I can’t! He's moving too much!”

“Move, I’ll hold him.”

“Oh, thanks, Gray!”

Firm hands grasped his shoulders and another pair his ankles, trying to lock his heaving body in place. He vaguely caught the sounds of strained shouting amidst the chaos, fighting to be heard over loud sobbing. Tears burned his eyes in a never ending stream as it hit him: It was his deafening sounds. His screams and sobs shuddered out of him, mounting to a volume that rang his ears. It was all him struggling to voice his pain with words he couldn’t put together.

Natsu couldn’t make heads or tails of who was speaking or for what.

There was an intense pressure on his esophagus that was maddening. It drowned out the sparks of pain shooting through his veins and overwhelmed his senses. There were voices shouting garbled commands and panic he couldn’t make sense of. There wasn’t a single moment or source of comfort from any direction he could observe and the realization bubbled in his chest like a pile of heavy stones.

He was too cramped. Too suffocated. Too… everything.

Instinct prevailed. Demanded his response. Demanded he attack. To set himself free, he summoned the vestiges of his magic, humming frantically beneath his skin. A burst of fire flared in dry heat. It forced the hands away from him as a string of curses peppered the air. Taking advantage of his new freedom, Natsu reached for his neck, clawing for relief as the last vestiges of his fire curled away from him. The magic continued to thrum beneath his skin, threatening to strike out of control once again at any second, but before he could give more power in his next attempt to clear space, another magic struck against his own.

It was an antithesis to his desperate need to escape his suffering.

“Natsu...” A comforting chill poured into his vein. It soothed over the heat that threatened to boil him. Blinking, he struggled to see through his blurry eyes and caught a vague silhouette leaning over him. Drops of water landed against his cheek and a golden curtain surrounded him from all sides. He couldn’t piece together what he was looking at, his eyes swimming. But he felt shaky fingers run along his forehead, cool balm along his feverish skin. “It’s okay. You can calm down now… you’re okay. It- it’s going to be okay, I promise.”

That voice… It cut through the confusion and Natsu recognized Lucy. She firmly held his head in place, her fingers sifted through his hair as the hum of her magic matched frequencies with his own, providing a sense of calm. The pins and needles stabbing at his nerves deafened and the numbing effects of Wendy and Porlyusica finally worked through his system as strong hands quickly pulled him away from his throat. The numbing brought force an exhaustion so deep in his bones that he could hardly resist the call, eyes straining to focus on those around him. Their scents hit him then, one by one and Natsu realized the truth to Lucy’s words. He was safe. They were safe. She was safe. He’d done it then. Things were okay after all. The satisfaction of his victory was enough to lull him back to sleep, gaze lingering on Lucy’s above him just enough to crack a grin.

He couldn’t speak, voice too raw, too damaged, but his expression said enough.

It was all okay.

He thought he heard another voice, still tickling the back of his awareness, matching his relief.

‘Yes. Safe… it’s all okay now.’

He made a note to ask the identity of them later, but the memory slipped from him the moment he shut his eyes.

When Natsu finally slumped back into deep sleep, the others in Porylusica’s hut heaved a sigh of relief. His thrashing had reopened multiple wounds the older draconis had hurriedly stitched and the risk of losing more blood was too great to be gentle a second time around. Especially now with fresh scratches at his neck wound, beading new lines of red.

In their haste to staunch the flow of blood on his neck, the more minor cuts and lacerations remained untended along his torso and arms.

Lucy hated it. Every second. Out of the darkness and under light, the expanse of his injuries were worse than she thought. He’d almost thrown Wendy off in her attempts to hold him down when she reacted on instinct, grasping his face in a futile hope to soothe him. At that moment, things shifted minutely. He’d froze in her touch, eyes shifting up to meet her own, glassy and unseeing. Or so she thought while her eyes misted over in unshed tears.

He’d seen her. Or something, in her posture, finally relaxing as his gaze rolled back. Natsu’s body still twitched as the other two worked and Gray was awkwardly following their directions, using his strength to hold the Draconis down anytime his nervous movements threatened to go overboard once more. When the rush settled into repetitive industry, Lucy was free to fall into her own thoughts. By then, she’d been asked to sit down, lamely swinging her legs over the mattress while Natsu’s head rested upon her lap.

“He’s quiet, so keep him there for the time.” Porly had explained and Lucy shamefully ignored the way it made her face heat up.

Now wasn’t the time to get embarrassed over something so simple.

Tireless work. No time for rest. No time to slow down. Lucy desperately tried to keep her attention as they worked, flinching when needle and thread pierced his skin and pulled it taut. His ragged breathing stabbed her heart and took her breath away. But every time she began to fall into the mire of guilt, she’d be pulled back by mumbles from the Draconis, eyes flickering behind his lids.

His ramblings turned to slurred indecipherable speech, but the fresh sweat on his brow could be attested to more than just the work spent healing him. Running her fingers through his damp hair, Lucy marveled at the temperature, too warm and clammy to be a good thing. “Does he have a fever?” She hesitantly asked, wincing when Porlyusica answered with a scathing glare. “It’s possible. I’d be surprised if he didn’t.” She snapped, returning to her work without a second glance, ignoring the worried knit to Lucy’s brow.

Gnawing her lip in earnest, Wendy took over, voice a soft balm to Lucy’s frayed nerves. “It’s not much higher than his usual. Fevers are normal, but he runs hotter than most. It won't harm him anymore than he already is.”

It was a small comfort, one she shared with Gray, who shared a brief glance her way before he resumed holding the Draconis’ legs in place.

Silence overtook them once more laced with background mumblings of Natsu’s delirium. The time for talk would come later, when every bit of damage was disinfected, stitched and bandaged. When his head was finally laid to rest against a feathery pillow, and the sheets and blankets were removed to be cleansed of their bloody stains.

Only when night was fading to morning light, was the cottage full of gentle snores from all corners of the room.

Wendy curled against her aunt, overcome with sleep hours before as the elder doctor finally succumbed to her own need for rest, slumping in their shared chair as Gray took purchase in a corner. He lazily waved a tired hand over a small trail of burns that ran up his arm, covering them in a thin layer of chill before falling to sleep. The world outside was an unknown territory to them. Erza’s status, Cana’s report to Makarov, the state of the forest and all those in the village, a mystery until the residents of the healing cabin would awake once more, but most of all, caught up in the head of the cottage, still nestled atop the bed, was Natsu’s pained grunts of medicated sleep, and Lucy by his side, head lolled as her fingers still laid tangled in his hair. She’d awake hours later with a stiff back from her position, but that was an issue she’d save for later. For now: they had rest.

–

The rest of the village slept, ignorant of the true events over the night after they’d been reassured by Cana and Makarov that no fires would come near, having already fizzled out in the forest above.

They went to bed with uncertainty heavy in their hearts, but trust they would learn the truth in the morning. Laxus, exhausted in ways he refused to admit, stayed at the keep, arms crossed as he feigned sleep against the stone walls. Makarov paced listlessly in the other room, having claimed he would rest and observe Natsu’s status in the morning, but worry kept sleep far from the old man’s grasp.

Likewise, the burly blond couldn’t bring himself to relax. Anger was a constant emotion broiling inside, but behind the stormy frustration was a hint of guilt in his dark eyes. His magic was destructive. A fact he took in stride with careful discipline, tightly holding the reins on his magic at all times. And yet…. he refused to look at the very hands that could control the static. Instead his fingers dug into his skin.

He knew full well he’d used more force than necessary in his attempt to strike Kage down. As one of the warriors of the tribe, he’d seen many succumb to his abilities. Witnessing a member of his own clan struck by those damages was a different feeling entirely.

He recalled the clear accusation in Erza’s voice when she asked for Kage’s location. Remembered the pain of grinding his teeth as he accepted the results of their battle. Natsu had sacrificed himself for a win he failed to give and his attempt to revenge Freed, protect their home had been wasted. Grumbling, the muscles in his arms tensed to every thought that fueled his adrenaline until the copper tang of blood entered his mouth.

Flinching from the accidental bite to his lip Laxus changed tactics, pushing off from the wall to do the only thing he could deem as useful in that moment. His determined steps left sparks of magic in his wake, destined for the edge of the town. Erza said she would continue the search for Kage, but a second pair of eyes would work better. He’d already failed to catch where the danger would come from after Kage’s incarceration, he refused to fail again by brooding.

Laxus ignored the festival streamers hanging limp and lifeless from the poles as he passed.

Heavy footfalls thudded into the gravel without a care for those sleeping in their homes nearby. Tension kept the night still and stagnant.

It stifled him. It was best to leave and be useful. To focus only on the task at hand and not how easily his home had been invaded, its joy snatched away in a matter of moments. Worry got him nowhere.

Which is precisely why he missed the hunched figure, resting against a stool in the shadows; their piercing, green-blue eyes spied him through the early morning haze with a vigor they hadn’t had the night before.

“You’re up awfully late,” Freed’s voice rasped from his perch, quietly observing, still as a statue. Laxus’ footsteps paused, digging into the ground as he turned to meet the other, one eyebrow raised in bewilderment.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” He demanded, quickly assessing Freed’s appearance from what Erza had relayed to him earlier. The man’s face was gaunt, sunken in and gray as if the very loss of his energy had taken his color with it. His countenance, that was usually a scene of perfect posture, was a haggard being, barely able to stay awake with half-lidded eyes puffy and red at the corners. Laxus scoffed at the sight. “You’re smarter than this, Freed, get to bed.”

Freed chuckled, unperturbed by the order. He made no attempt to move from his post. “I’m fine here, thanks. Besides, despite my appearance, sleep is escaping me,” a yawn broke free just in time to contradict himself, but he ignored Laxus’ judging gaze, “I’ve been upholding a barrier underground for months and attacked by a dastardly shadow fiend. Allow me to bask in the fresh air for now.”

Laxus shrugged, “Fine. Not my business anyway.”

“No, I daresay it’s not.” Freed’s reply was curt and through pursed lips he softly seethed, “but I think yours is currently fretting alone while her siblings comfort her.” The implication to his words was obvious, coupled with a pointed stare that bored into Laxus as his eyes swept away to avoid it.

“Don’t put your nose into my business if I’m sticking out of yours.” He snapped, body shifting uneasily while he forced himself to stay put. He was restless. He still wanted to patrol, to chase after Erza and catch that reprobate himself, so why was Freed attempting to stop him? “Stay there and die from a cold for all I care, I’ve still got to clean up your mess.”

He regretted the verbal attack as soon as the words fell from his mouth, but there was no taking it back. He was too proud for apologies, and Laxus knew better than to pretend Freed would wipe all insults away at the drop of a hat. In the past, their travels had led the two to understand each other on a level deeper than most, and despite the other’s calm demeanor, his ability to hold a grudge was second to none.

Through another yawn, Freed blinked his eyes repeatedly to block out tears the action summoned, gritting his teeth as he pushed himself from his seat with a huff, balancing on wobbly legs. “On second thought, perhaps I will go to bed. Telling a stubborn man like you to pay more attention to his partner was a ridiculous notion after all.”

In the early morning’s haze he moved slow, steps pointed as he kept his head up, blinking back the clear exhaustion that seeped into his bones. Freed didn’t spare a glance to the other when he ambled past, stopping just a few feet short to deliver his parting words.

“Pardon the unsolicited opinion, but… if you keep hiding behind your responsibility and mistrust to shoulder everything on your own, it’s only going to push you farther away from the rest of us. Even now, you refuse to trust others to get the job done where you fell short.” Another yawn interrupted him, but it did nothing to dampen the sharp glint of anger in his sharp eyes, “That stubbornness will do you in one of these days and I won’t be surprised if Mirajane dances for someone else next year; someone with more sense and care. Be careful, Laxus- or she’ll leave a bull-headed fool like you behind.”

Laxus stood still for quite some time, feeling off-kilter at the scathing remarks that made guilt claw at him more than his own earlier blunder did.

Freed’s insults were a rarity, but he couldn’t deny it had struck home. Gnashing his teeth together, he listened for the fading footsteps of the other, only walking off the main road once he was sure the enchanter had long gone. He was stubborn. He knew this. Even now, his mind kept creating reasons to rush back to the woods and ignore Freed’s warnings. Kage was a slippery bastard who hid himself in the shadows and Erza was just one person. Could they risk him escaping by not sending enough to catch him? He couldn’t hold still. Each second spent not acting was another that brought Natsu’s limp body to the forefront of his mind, still twitching from the full force of the sky brought down on him. The gushing blood he barely held at bay and tearful cries of the blonde who begged for the draconis’ safety that he couldn’t even say was assured.

They haunted him with each step further towards the trees.

He could have held back, he knew this, and realizing his over exertion of energy had been for naught rankled his nerves like sour fruit. How could anyone blame him for wanting to push it out of his mind?

Mirajane would understand that. She always had… hadn’t she?

The corner of his lips curled into a self-loathing sneer, Freed’s words echoing in his mind despite all other arguments. Cursing, he turned down another alley and left all thoughts of the woods behind him. Instead, he considered his own home, how it would possibly be full of three, white-haired mages desperately trying to come up with answers Makarov had yet to give them. Freed was right. But he’d keep the admission to himself: for now.

Lucy hadn’t expected Porylusica to allow them to stay through the night, let alone most of the morning. Exhaustion lived in her bones and each involuntary twitch of her body stretched stiff muscles. A weight was on her lap, Natsu’s head, she surmised. He’d grown antsy in his sleep away from her and so she’d resumed her earlier position, sitting up against the wall.

She could hear the soft breathing of Gray and Wendy, but the older woman was already shuffling about, slightly clinking pots and pans together as the familiar crackle of wood fire being brought to life met her ears. She was cooking breakfast.

These were just guesses. Lucy was too tired to open her eyes to confirm, but the familiar scent of bacon tipped her off regardless. Another twitch of her muscles and she groaned, finally peeking an eye open to blearily glance about the room. It was much the same as it was the night before, with window panes tightly shut to block out the light and springtime bugs. The healer's small hovel resembled a humanized cave, quietly urging Lucy back into the throes of sleep.

Unfortunately, the crick in her neck refused to let that sweet solace pull her back into its depths. Rolling her head from side to side, Lucy winced and wondered what insanity had compelled her to sleep as she had.

A light grunt from the wounded roma brought it all crashing back down on her.

Oh, of course she hadn’t moved since he’d finally relaxed. His breathing was still uneven with a pained hitch every other breath, but his body was covered in bandages and the sheet placed upon him was far cleaner than the rags he rested upon, still stained from the previous night. She remembered being offered a chair to rest in, but she’d denied it in favor of staying in place, anxiously watching Natsu drift in and out of feverish dreams.

She was glad he was resting, despite the obvious clenching of his jaw she spied after blinking away the fatigue. From time to time, she thought his groans turned to muttering, but she couldn’t make out the words. Sighing in relief, her fingers sifted through his hair, matted from the night before. There were still bits of dried blood coating his fingertips and under his broken nails. He was in dire need of a bath, but they could worry about that later.

“Ah, awake are you?”

Porly’s voice startled her, sweeping her eyes towards the fireplace where the healer’s eyes crinkled, peering at her from over her cooking pots. She nodded in lieu of a verbal reply, not wanting to risk waking the others. The doctor wasn’t half as concerned at the concept, rolling her shoulders as she clicked her tongue. “I’d tell you to get over here and help me, but he might start screaming again if you move and I like my quiet. So keep him there will you?” It took Lucy a couple of confused seconds to realize who she was referring to, clearing her throat as heat dusted her cheeks. “Don’t tell me that embarrasses you. It’s not the first time he’s slept on someone's lap before, you know.”

Lucy chose to ignore the lurching response her stomach gave at that, biting her lip instead. “It’s not that. It’s just-”

“Girl spare me the rambles,” her interruption was as sharp as a knife, “I honestly don’t care.”

Then why did you bring it up? Lucy wanted to ask, frowning instead, a pained grunt from Natsu made her fingers loosen in his hair, belatedly realizing she’d begun to pull at the strands. Muttering a quick apology, she soothed out the hair and cleared her throat, “Thanks for letting us stay here. I know there’s not a lot of space.”

“Hmm, better that then you all falling down the hill and busting your heads open in the dark. It’d leave me with more on my plate to fix than just the blockhead there. Besides, you can all leave after you wake and have had breakfast.”

“And Natsu?”

“I imagine Makarov will want to keep him here until we’re sure he’s stable.” She snorted, “Knowing that old goat he’s going to fret and want him to overstay just in case. Then it’s back to his own hovel so I can have peace and quiet again.”

“Ah,” Her gaze swept back to Natsu, gnawing her lip until it felt raw, “That makes sense, I guess.”

“And you? I noticed your cane is gone.”

Lucy blinked, surprised, “I.. I forgot. My magic was there last night, but- ”

“A good first step then.” She cut her off, dexterously flipping the bacon with her bare fingers. The small burns from the night before hardly seemed to bother her, grabbing more slices to toss in the popping oil. ”Make sure you don’t trip over my rug when you leave then. I’m not in the mood to fix you again and I haven’t a spare to lend you.”

Lucy’s voice lowered as her ire rose, “Are you always like this?”

Porylusica fixed her with a droll stare that overthrew Lucy's irritation, “Get used to it if you plan on staying here, girl.”

Lucy’s silence damned her before she could find the words to stammer out. The old doctor’s eyes were sharp, catching the pull of her eyebrows that knitted in uncertainty. It spoke on a volume she wished the old woman hadn’t caught.

The older woman barked a hollow laugh, shifting the pan off the flames to crack a few eggs into the sizzling mass. She didn’t want to admit that Porly’s eyes felt too all-seeing in that moment, leaving her drowning a silent shame.

“So that’s how it is.” Despite her angered tone, she managed to sound disappointed, tearing her gaze from Lucy’s to focus on her work, “I didn’t realize you were industrious enough to use our help then leave, but even an old woman like me can be wrong from time to time it seems.”

Lucy’s eyes whirled, her earlier shame shifting to agape denials, “That’s not it at all! I want this place to be my home, m-more than anything!”

The crack of another egg sounded like a whip in the air, making Lucy flinch. Porlyusica tossed the empty shell aside in a pile with the rest, “Is that so? Then why the hesitation?”

She wanted to stay silent, shame and guilt burning in her lungs, all-too aware that one wrong rise in volume would awaken the others in the room. She didn’t want that.

They all deserved their rest, not to wake up to Porylusica’s interrogation or her own doubts, but the longer she kept her mouth shut, stubborn pride corralling her broiling emotions, the more the doctor’s ire seemed to raise.

“Are you that much a fool? If you leave, you’ll be caught, and who knows what will come of you then. Are you that suicidal?” She thundered, finally slamming her pan to the side, “Well?! Are you?”

Her tongue felt numb, paralyzed on words and thoughts that traveled through Lucy’s mind too fast to grasp. Wildly, she looked over Gray and Wendy, still curled up in their corners, still deep in sleep. A small mercy, but Natsu twitched, body tensing as he whined again, his body heat rising from a dream currently plaguing him. His eyes rapidly moved beneath his lids, drawing her attention.

“... somethings bothering him,” Lucy murmured distracted from her thoughts enough to rustle his hair once again, leaning forward to catch the mumbling words tumbling from his dry mouth. Too disjointed and hard to catch, “It’s not safe for him to be talking, is it?”

“Can you really stop a man in his sleep?” Shuffling around, Porylusica began collecting a small set of wooden bowls, hidden beside the hearth, but Lucy didn’t miss the derisive snort as she turned her back on the other. “As long as he’s not screaming and stays quiet when awake, he’ll heal. Mine and Wendy’s abilities aren’t to be trifled with. Now, my question. Or are you looking for another excuse to avoid giving me a straight answer?”

Lucy winced, “... I’m not wanting to hurt myself. That would be an insult to my own parents' sacrifice to protect me.”

“.. and what of our own?” That sharp voice grew smaller, a husky anger that filled the room in a grisled tone that spoke of experiences far beyond Lucy’s years. “Do we mean so little to you?”

The words were harsh and full of a truth that left Lucy’s heart clenching. A sob wrenched from her closing throat. Wet hot tears spilled down her cheeks as she shook her head, “I- I don’t want you all getting hurt because of me… is that so wrong?”

“... don’t insult that boy's sacrifice for you, fool.”

She couldn’t bring herself to reply and Porylusica didn’t prompt her for further conversation. Instead she muttered beneath her breath and shambled about, settling plates full of breakfast onto a nearby table. Whatever energy the older woman had to spare on conversation was long gone as she moved to gently prod Wendy’s shoulders, ushering the girl awake before roughly striking Gray across the back of his head in a swift motion. He woke with a startled yelp.

“Ah-! What the hell old lady! No mercy for the help?!”

“Get up and eat before it gets cold, I’m tired of you taking up space in my home!”

“Geez… grouchier than usual.”

Lucy bowed her head, shielding her face from the room in a blanket of golden hair. That was her fault too, wasn’t it?

The chatter and clanking of plates filled the room, and despite Wendy’s sleepy attempts at greeting everyone, Lucy only managed a small nod of her head. Lost in thought, she missed the drop in the smaller girl's expression, moving away to eat the meal that had been prepared.

Not a second later, the wafting scent of breakfast food filled her nostrils as a plate was placed before her, hovering above Natsu’s face as it broke through her curtain of hair.

It was a shame she missed the scrunching of Natsu’s nose, but his increased verbal mumblings was enough to prove he’d caught the scent as well. Glancing up, her eyes met Gray’s tired blues, head tilted with an encouraging smile as he held her plate aloft, waiting in silence.

“... thanks.” She croaked, fingers shaking as she accepted, “I could have gotten it later.”

“You’ve got a snuggly moron on you, don’t worry about it.” She almost choked on a bacon slice at Gray’s answer, coughing the bite down her throat as he chuckled, “don’t look so down. It’s going to be okay, yeah?”

Was he aware of their earlier conversation?

Searching his expression, Lucy decided that no, he must have just thought her worry was for the wounded draconis on her lap. She forced a smile, taking another bite to ease his own worries.

“Yeah. I know. The worst is over.” She wished she could believe her own words. A few, awkward seconds passed by with Lucy stiffly eating and Gray diligently watching. She couldn’t read his intentions at that moment, but after Wendy called him to his cooling dish, he shrugged and moved on, muttering a quiet ‘take care of yourself’ before he left Lucy’s proximity.

Maybe.. He did hear some of it? She swallowed down the rising panic with a bite of egg, grimacing at the over salted taste.

“Will we be going to see Makarov today?” Wendy asked once half her plate was cleaned, eyeing her Aunt curiously. The healer humphed, exhaling as she quickly consumed her own meal.

“He’ll be coming here, I imagine.” She said after a time, casting a searing glance towards Gray, “Which is why I want at least one of you gone before he gets here.”

“I get it,” He griped, stuffing the last of his bacon into his mouth and chewing angrily, “you’re really making me feel ganged up on, Granny.”

“It’s only because Lucy’s helping to keep Natsu calm,” Wendy muttered sheepishly, “You know how she is.”

“Hmph, if you know, then why are you offended? Finish your food and get out.” “Aunt Porly, please - “ Wendy chastised, face flushing, “He helped a lot last night, the least you can do is be nice.”

The older woman grunted, falling into a quiet agreement that only made the air more tense. Gray swallowed down the rest of his eggs in an air of indifference and the chatter ended. Lucy ate slower than the others, poking and prodding at her meal as her stomach tied into knots, refusing to feel hungry.

After a few, forced bites, she placed the plate beside her, eyes watching carefully to ensure no jostling of the bed would tip it over. Perhaps Natsu could finish it when he woke -

No, she paused on that thought. Not with a damaged throat like that. He’d be better off with liquids, she guessed. Sighing, she turned her attention back to the resting draconis, head ringing with the sharp words Porlyusica had used as a weapon against her.

Was she being unfair to him? That certainly wasn’t her intention, but something was still gnawing in the depths of her mind, demanding a response from her in regards to his injuries, but she couldn’t put a finger to it.

Natsu’s distressed mumbles broke through her thoughts.

A sudden sweat had broken along his brow, nose and eyes scrunching together as he ground his teeth. Startled, Lucy placed her cool fingers against his cheeks, noting his temperature had spiked once again and continued to climb with each frantic inhale. He struggled to move, wincing from the strain as a low whimper escaped him. His fingers curled tightly in the sheets, tearing the fabric trapped in his grasp.

She called out to the others then, both hands now on his face, trying to soothe the creases on his forehead. Was he all right? What was happening? “Something’s not right!”

Lucy dimly heard the screech of chairs toppling over, but at the same time, another whine escaped Natsu.

It was small, reminiscent of a broken child begging for comfort as wetness gathered at his eyes and dripped down passed his ears. Before the others could reach them, his whine turned into a broken, garbled cry, blood spitting from his mouth as he called out a name foreign to her ears but said with such despair it made her heart clench. “I-Igneel,” He croaked, desperation tinting his pleading tone, “help!”

As if winter had returned, a cold chill ran up Lucy’s spine as Wendy, Gray froze in their steps, eyes wide.

“Don’t just stand there, you two,” Porylusica barked, already checking his fever and, keeping his mouth open with her gnarled fingers, inspecting the inside of his mouth as she kept his airways clear. “ You boy! Ice now! Wendy, get the rest from the cellar. Hurry!”

Like the night before, the rush had began again, but Lucy’s heart stammered as she looked upon Natsu’s crying eyes squeezed shut. The name rang in her head, unrecognizable, but the desperate cry, the broken, empty pleading for help.

It reminded her of another time, when she was hidden beneath a broken cart, begging the slumped figures of her parents to move, anything to prove they were alive. Horror gripped her at the revelation and she robotically tried to soothe him, calling vaguely for her magic yet it stayed frustratingly out of her grasp. Questions tumbling from her mouth before she could think, “Who is that?! Whose he is asking for?!”

Undeterred from her work, but also unwilling to explain further, Porylusica snapped, “A man long dead, who else?”

#Fairy Tail Fanfiction #FT Fanfiction #Nalu Fanfiction #NatsuxLucy #Nalu #Natsu Dragneel #Lucy Heartfilia #Flame's Desire #My Writing #fanfiction #Fairy Tail

24 notes · View notes

mapmydestination123 · 8 months ago

Text

Without Effort: Jaipur's Best Cab Services for Wonderful Trips

Introduction:

The vibrant city of Jaipur, known as the Pink City, having reliable transportation is key to making the most of your visit. Luckily, Jaipur offers a plethora of cab services to cater to your travel needs, ensuring a seamless and enjoyable experience throughout your stay.

Booking a taxi in Jaipur is a breeze, thanks to user-friendly online platforms provided by cab operators. With just a few clicks, you can input your pickup location, destination, and travel preferences to access a list of available services. From there, you can compare prices, read reviews, and make reservations with ease, ensuring a hassle-free booking process.

Cab fares in Jaipur are competitive, offering excellent value for money. Whether you're travelling solo or with a group, you'll find options to suit your budget without compromising on quality. Additionally, cab operators in Jaipur often offer transparent fare structures, so you can rest assured knowing there are no hidden costs.

When it comes to cab service in Jaipur, Rajasthan, you can expect professionalism, punctuality, and excellent customer service. Experienced drivers of Taxi Rajasthan to Delhi navigate the bustling streets of Jaipur with ease, ensuring that you reach your destination safely and on time.Whether you're exploring the city's iconic landmarks, shopping in bustling markets, or indulging in local cuisine, having a reliable cab service at your disposal enhances your overall experience.Tour

So, whether you're a tourist exploring Jaipur's rich history and culture or a business traveller navigating the city's bustling streets, hiring a taxi in Jaipur ensures convenience and comfort throughout your journey. With the best cab service in Jaipur, your travel experience in the Pink City is bound to be memorable and hassle-free.

When is the Best Time to Visit Rajasthan?

The optimal period to visit Rajasthan is during the winter season, spanning from October through March. The weather during this period is pleasant, with warm days and cool nights, making it perfect for exploring the outdoors. Alternatively, the monsoon season, from mid-June to September, offers fewer crowds and cheaper prices, albeit with humid conditions. Make sure to book outstation cabs in advance to facilitate smooth and convenient travel arrangements before your trip to Rajasthan. Whether you prefer clear skies or lush greenery, Rajasthan has something to offer throughout the year.

Where to Stay in Rajasthan?

Rajasthan boasts a range of accommodation options to suit every budget and preference. For those seeking luxury and sustainability, Khem Villas in Ranthambhore offers a unique experience amidst the wilderness of the national park. On the shores of Lake Pichola, Jagat Niwas Palace in Udaipur provides a blend of heritage charm and modern comfort. For budget travelers, Castleview Homestay in Jodhpur offers panoramic views of the Blue City without breaking the bank, and you can easily arrange a cab from Rajasthan to Delhi without spending a fortune. Additionally, there are options for heritage havelis, boutique hotels, and even camping experiences in the desert.

Planning Your Trip to Rajasthan

With its vast expanse and myriad attractions, planning a trip to Rajasthan requires careful consideration. Whether you prefer independent travel, hiring a private car and driver, or joining a group tour, there are options to suit every traveler's needs. From exploring the bustling markets of Jaipur to embarking on a desert safari in Jaisalmer, Rajasthan offers endless possibilities for adventure and cultural immersion. Arrange for a one-way taxi service ahead of time to make your travel plans more convenient before visiting Rajasthan.

How to Travel Around Rajasthan

Rajasthan is well-connected by rail and road, making it easy to navigate between cities and towns. While trains offer comfort and convenience, hiring a driver allows for flexibility and personalized experiences. For those on a budget, buses provide a budget-friendly option for traveling within the state. Organize car booking for outstation in advance to simplify your travel logistics prior to your trip to Rajasthan. Additionally, for shorter distances within cities, auto-rickshaws and cycle-rickshaws are readily available.

Safety Tips for Solo Female Travelers in Rajasthan

Traveling solo as a female in Rajasthan can be a rewarding experience with proper precautions. From dressing conservatively to avoiding secluded areas at night, there are measures you can take to ensure a safe and enjoyable journey. Additionally, carrying a local SIM card for communication and using reputable accommodations can further enhance your peace of mind. It's also advisable to stay informed about local customs and traditions to respect cultural sensitivities. Before planning your visit to Rajasthan, take the necessary step of reserving the best outstation cab service for your transportation needs.

Responsible Travel in Rajasthan

As one of India's most popular tourist destinations, Rajasthan attracts millions of visitors each year. However, with popularity comes responsibility. Arrange for the best one-way taxi reservations to streamline your travel arrangements prior to scheduling your trip to Rajasthan. By supporting local businesses, practicing sustainable tourism, and respecting local customs and traditions, travelers can contribute to the preservation of Rajasthan's cultural and natural heritage. Additionally, being mindful of waste disposal and conserving water and energy can help minimize environmental impact.

Must-Visit Destinations in Rajasthan

While Jaipur, Udaipur, Jodhpur, and Jaisalmer are among the most famous destinations in Rajasthan, there is much more to explore beyond these iconic cities. From the spiritual ambiance of Pushkar to the architectural marvels of Bikaner and Bundi, each destination offers a unique glimpse into Rajasthan's rich tapestry of history and culture. Ensure the booking of a one-side taxi service beforehand to facilitate smooth travel arrangements before planning your visit to Rajasthan. Exploring the lesser-known towns and villages can provide a more authentic experience and a deeper understanding of Rajasthan's heritage.

What to Pack for Rajasthan

Packing essentials for Rajasthan include sun protection, comfortable clothing, and toiletries suited for the region's climate. Lightweight, breathable fabrics are recommended, along with a wide-brimmed hat, sunglasses, and sunscreen to shield against the intense sun. During the winter months, layers are essential for cooler evenings. Additionally, carrying a first aid kit and water purification equipment can ensure a hassle-free journey. Secure a booking of a taxi for outstation in advance to ensure convenient commuting before embarking on your trip to Rajasthan.

Staying Healthy in Rajasthan

Taking precautions such as staying hydrated, practicing good hygiene, and carrying necessary medications can help prevent common travel ailments in Rajasthan. It's important to drink bottled or purified water and avoid consuming street food from unhygienic vendors to minimize the risk of gastrointestinal issues. Travel insurance is also essential for peace of mind in case of any unforeseen circumstances, including medical emergencies.

Conclusion

With its rich tapestry of history, diverse landscapes, and vibrant culture, Rajasthan stands as a beacon for travelers seeking an immersive and unforgettable experience. From the majestic forts of Jaipur to the tranquil lakes of Udaipur, every corner of this enchanting land whispers tales of valor and romance. The bustling bazaars offer a glimpse into its colorful past, while the golden sands of the Thar Desert beckon adventurers to explore its vast expanse. Arrange to book an outstation cab for hassle-free transportation before finalizing your travel plans to Rajasthan. Amidst the warm hospitality of its people, Rajasthan promises moments of awe and wonder that linger long after the journey ends, especially with convenient cab services available from Rajasthan to Delhi. Whether you're drawn to its architectural marvels, mesmerizing natural beauty, or the thrill of exploration, Rajasthan's allure knows no bounds, making it a destination that calls you back time and again to uncover its endless treasures. Embark on this journey, let Rajasthan weave its magic around you, and discover the essence of timeless splendor that resides within its heart.

#outstation cabs near me #travel #best taxi service #taxi #userfriendlyapp

0 notes

canaryrecords · 4 years ago

Link

When Canary released an LP of Marika Papagika titled The Further the Flame, the Worse it Burns Me in October, 2010, the last line of its accompanying biographical notes was: “This work remains unfinished and ongoing. Corrections and additions will be received with gratitude.” In the decade that has passed, a lot of new documents have become available online and some significant research has been published, notably the slim book by Panyiotis Kounadis with his daughter Elita that includes more of Papagika’s family background and the two photos of her with her husband. These notes will go some way toward correcting mistakes that I made in the Further the Flame and will fill in some of the gaps with what is now knowable.

While her death certificate lists her father’s name as Anastasis Katsoris other documents give his surname as Katsaros. Similarly, her mother’s name Anthoula Monduco appears elsewhere as Anthoula Anthos. Her place of birth on her death certificate, the island of Kos, is contradicted on her 1939 Social Security application, where it is given as Constantinople and gives her date of birth as Sept. 10, 1890. (Several other dates in 1890 also appear on various documents.) In 2019, a researcher named N. Nikitaridis presented documentation online that appears to show that Marika had moved with her family before the age of 10 to Alexandria, Egypt, where she married Costas Papagikas circa 1909. Costas's dates of birth also vary across documents, ranging between June 1, 1882 and August 8, 1883. He consistently listed his home as either Martino or Lamia, towns about 90km from one another in the central Greek district of Phthiotis. Nikitaridis’s work also showed through newspaper documentation that Marika Papagika held at least a dozen residencies as a singer in a half-dozen venues in Alexandria between March 1913 and April 1914: Lazaropoulos’ coffee shop, Barzadaki, Kassandra, Casino Lyon, and the Tornadazaki Cafe among them. Clearly by her early 20s she was a seasoned and popular performer in the Greek-Alexandrian community.

Researcher Hugo Strötbaum found documentation in the EMI Archive in Hayes that Marika and Costas Papagikas recorded six performances for the Gramophone Company in Egypt in December 1913 or January 1914. (Relying inadvisably on my memory, I believe that single copies of two of those discs are now known to exist.) On April 22, 1915, they arrived at Ellis Island, joining the wave of 351,720 Greeks who came to the U.S. between 1901 and 1920 at a time when Greece’s population was less than 2.5 million. They told immigration officials they would go to Chicago, where over 20,000 Greeks had already settled around Halsted Street and Blue Island Avenue. (About as many Greeks were in New York, spread out over Manhattan and Brooklyn.)

Their path over the next three years remains unclear, but by 1918 they were living at 159 W 31st St. in Manhattan. In July of that year, they cut a trial recording at Victor Records’ New York studio and then, December 4th of that year they cut four sides that were released. (The first of those was a take of “Smyrneiko Minore,” which they recut eight months later with a different violinist. The earlier take is included as the final track of this collection.) The only print documentation to have come to light of their performing careers in the U.S. is a February 16, 1919 appearance at the Olympic Theater on 5th Ave. in Pittsburgh, PA. The event was held between armistice at the close of World War I (Nov. 11, 1918) and the signing of the Treaty of Versaille (June 28, 1919) and was a call on the Allied peace authorities to unify Greece with the territories of Northern Epirus and the Dodecanese Islands which were at the time still under foreign rule. Following a series of speeches, Marika (using her Americanized name Mary) stood between photos of President Woodrow Wilson and the Greek Prime Minister Eleftherios Venizelos and sang several songs in Greek including a translation of the popular 1917 American war song “Over There.”

It would be difficult to overstate the role of Panhellenism in Papagika’s artistic output and career. The early decades of the 20th century when Papagika came of age as a performer were a period of constant political upheaval and brutal conflict for Greece - the Cretan Revolution, two Balkan Wars, World War I, the Greco-Turkish War, a military coup, assassination attempts, territorial expansion, endless scandal and intrigue in the government and military, and the ultimate collapse of the monarchy when the last king died at the age of 27 from the after-effects of having been bitten by a monkey, all in less than 30 years and in the context of almost constant financial ruin. A desperate sense of bound unity among Greek-speakers became the basis for both political and artist endeavor for Greeks. As W.H. Auden wrote of Papagika’s Greek-Alexandrian contemporary, the poet Constantine Cavafy, “In [his] Panhellenic world, there is one great object of love and loyalty of which defeat has not deprived them, the Greek language.”

Among her earliest recordings for the Gramophone company were patriotic songs referring to the Balkan Wars, and songs of patriotism and Greek pride, in one form or another, remained a steady baseline of her discography. Apart from her patriotic performance at the Pittsburgh conference and promotional material issued by her record labels, the only other print evidence we have of her in the U.S. is her appearance next to Costas in the front of a 1924 photograph taken at the first annual ball of of the Metropolitan New York City chapter of the newly-formed Order of the American Hellenic Educational Progressive Association on December 15, 1924. The event took place at the Commodore Hotel at 109 E 42nd St., less than twelve blocks from 215 W. 34th St. where Marika and Costas were living at the time. In the photo (used as the cover to this collection) Marika wears a similar headdress as the one she wore for a photo used as the cover photo for a 1921 Victor Records catalog. Behind her to her left is Costas in his ever-present pushbroom mustache.

In the same photo, behind Marika to her right stands a significantly taller man. It is my guess that this is the only known photo of her most consistent accompanist barring Costas, the cellist Markos Sifnios. (Marika’s Ellis Island documentation gives her height as 5’3” and Sifnios’ draft registration states his height as 5’11”.) Sifnios, who was born March 10, 1886 or 1887 in Latomi on the island of Chios, appeared on the vast majority of the Papagikas recordings. He left behind an ex -wife and two children (born 1906 and 1909) on Chios, lived for a while in Djibouti, and ultimately arrived in the U.S. on a boat from Shanghai to San Francisco in July 1917. By September 1918, he was living on W. 31st St., one block down from the Papagikas and was earning his living as musician. When Marika and Costas lived at 215 W 34th St. in the mid-20s, Sifnios moved to number 253 on the same block. He performed with them from their first trial disc in July, 1918 through December of 1928 on nearly all of the 200 recordings they made in New York over the course of a decade. They were, it seems, very close. His death on April 5, 1929 around the age of 41 marks, as much as any other date, the end of the Marika and Costas Papagikas as prolific and popular recording artists. They cut only eight more sides in first half of 1929 without him before going into retirement from recording for nearly a decade.

In early 1930, Marika’s widowed older sister Stamatia Corneliou (or Stamatea Cornelio) emigrated to the U.S., quickly settling on Halsted St. in Chicago, where she ran a boarding house for immigrant laborers and waiters (from Mexico, Spain, Sweden, as well as Greece). Meanwhile, by April 1930 the Papagikas bought a house at 198 Sea Ave. in the largely Italian Arrochar neighborhood of Staten Island for $7,500 (about $117,000 in current money - a significant gain from the $40 they carried when they arrived 15 years earlier). Living with them was one Angelo Basil Greggo, a waiter who’d been born in 1894, emigrated in 1910, and served as a private with the U.S. forces overseas during WWI. (A census enumerator was told that Greggo was both a nephew and a musician like his hosts. We have no reason to believe that either claim is true.) Greggo continued to live with them when the moved to 198 Lily Pond Ave., two doors down from their close friend, the record producer and singer Tetos Demetriades, in the Rosebank neighborhood about a decade later.

Demetriades had lured them out of recording retirement to make four final sides with Marika singing in February and March 1937. Shortly afterward, of nine sides recorded by Costas in July and September, 1939 only two, bearing little resemblance to his 1920s performances, were issued. (Demetriades was listed as Costas Papagikas’s contact on his WWII draft registration card.) Whether these six issued sides were made in generosity toward the Papagikases or as a boost to other musicians using their famous names or some combination, we can't say. In any case, they did not sell well.

July 15, 1943 Marika went to the Staten Island Hospital. She died there less than three weeks later on August 2, the result of a cerebral hemorrhage and heart disease. The following day, the Staten Island Advance announced her death somberly without mention of her performing career, stating that her funeral would be held the following day at Casey Funeral Home and Holy Trinity Greek Orthodox Church. She is buried in Silver Mount Cemetery, Sunnyside, Staten Island. Her headstone reading “M. Papagikas” gives only her date of death and age as 52.

Costas Papagika’s death from heart disease Oct. 12, 1947 was reported by his niece, Euryklia Staurakuli (whose husband Theophanis had worked in the 1920s at the Hellenic Phonograph Company at 532 8th Avenue.) They had no children. Their friend Angelo Greggo died in Avlonas, Attica in Feb. 1967 and was interned there in his family’s vault.

Among the proliferation of reissued recordings of Marika Papagika, particularly online, a remarkable number have remained unavailable. Partially this has to do with contemporary stylistic preferences for material that fits the image of Marika as a performer of proto-rebetika or Smyrna style music, while a substantial amount of her output was theatrical or in then-popular styles (like tangos, which were enormously popular among Greeks in the 20s) that are now out-of-favor. And partially, it has to do with the fact that the majority of her recordings were made “acoustically” before the advent of microphone recording and survive in disc form in widely mixed states of audio fidelity. This collection, including new transfers of several ubiquitous performances, also includes some that have not been available for nearly a century. Hopefully it inches us closer to a clear picture of one of the most gifted immigrant musicians in America’s history.

2 notes · View notes

aemperatrix · 4 years ago

Text

Keats Is Coughing

by Marianne Boruch

Everything is made of everything. — Leonardo da Vinci

I found Rome in the woods.

Fair to admit it’s mostly tundra to the west in the park, past Toklat the Denali I revised, low grasslands engineered to freeze deep by October — this being Alaska — the great

Tabularium close to the Temple of Castor and Pollux I rebuilt that same summer — not superimposed, exact as any scheme

in secret — the Arch of Septimius Severus at the gravel bar where fox drank from a river turned stream, a Theater of Marcellus near the ranger station where one raven, such a brat, complained of my Circus Maximus, Trajan’s Column, my Baths of Diocletian, too many spots soaked in unpronounceable Latin.

I really did, I shouldered bits of it, a ruin-hushed haunted business, my brain a truck bed, a lift, pulleys big as a whale’s heart, expletives of cheap wonder all over my woodlot and expanse. One self-anoints to embellish day, years, life thus far, and think oneself so...

Then busted —

by a raven!

Well, that’s memory for you, that’s so-called civilization for you, to layer up, to redo the already done.

I mean it’s a fact, the puny life span we’re allotted. And proof — Denali in August, fireweed, spunky scrawny first Latinate — Erechtites hieracifolia —

giving off flowers to mark what weeks left, little time bomber, time traveler, ancient slips red-flagging the countdown to winter by climbing its own stalk.

Something perverse about that. Something perfectly fiendishly self-conscious about that.

•

From the start perverse, any premise. Ask...We can’t know. To be compelled

makes an occasion. Rome’s grand past horrific, fire and ash, swamp into bog, lust and bloodlust —

The Alaska Range dreams lurid as Rome, the worst way below being fire, summer snow at night off the highest peaks by noon as distant from our cabin as the size of a hand if I held up the one with an eye in the middle

to know how this works. Some have the power to raise from the dead a before, before scary and beautiful back to mystery cults, in caves, rubble far under a Roman street, the altar to Mithras still slaying his bull, crumbling the stonework.

All things being equal. But they’re not. Agony, it’s older. Ask the moose at Denali, the snowshoe hare, the lynx,

such a wily courtly lot. Ask Ovid banished to his hovel on the Black Sea, aching for Rome’s exalted rude cacophony, each exiled month a big thick X down

Februarius, Aprilis to home-shattered sick enough

for an undersong. Look it up! Undersong: a strain; a droning; the burden of a song — Maybe that lowest common denominator is contagious. Rome or Denali, a mash-up of lunge and cry out, predator and prey throwing coins to a fountain, footholds made first by a hoof, pickpockets at buses and trains, nuns queuing up their no-nonsense, thorny brambles, raggedy spruce groves, a look, a nod to sell loveless love on the street, a chain of mountains in choral repeat, saints stained to glass, how ice gouged rivers from rock-bound, the one-lung rapturous common-sense Pope all outstretched arms, his little popemobile circling the thrilled at St. Peter’s up on our rickety chairs to see in six, seven languages how radiant — Cross my heart, he was. And Keats, Keats is coughing.

•

You find the fossil record everywhere. In woods, tundra, under streets, in cadaver labs. Not those bright transparencies, wistful orderly page after page in biology, a lie, a kind of flip-book romance. It’s the one big mess of us in us, the generous extraordinary dead prove that, signing a paper, giving themselves away to be cut, disembodied for the knowing it, sunk to their chemical depth in some afterlife, opened on a table by kids really, belabored doctors-to-be, our shabby shared wilderness to untangle, bones joints arteries valves, The Dissector in hand, weirdest how-to book on the planet. For Keats too, 1819, his scribbled roses and sunflowers in margins, his training, his anatomy theatre, looking down and later: still London, then Rome (he who gets it, body fails, second floor, beside the Spanish Steps). Heart, not my heart anymore. Forgive me. I’m worse than the hopelessly confused misnamed English sparrow, descendant of the great weaver birds of Africa, a finch that lost the gene

for nest, how to beneath, to across so intricate, precise, bringing bringing sticks and hair and bits of shiny paper. Undersong: the burden of a song. Poor bird. Poor sweet muddled middle of it. I watched morning after morning, his offering... It’s Keats who made claims about beauty and time. His bed at the last too low for the window, his must-have tell me, what’s out there —

I admit: a ridiculous layering, Rome in Denali. Just because? Because I went to both in short order? Two continents, an ocean apart. My mother loved hand-me-down expressions — never the twain shall meet. They do meet. To repeat: that’s civilization for you. Happenstance and right now drag along future and past and why the hell not the Denali, the Rome in any of us, no two states of being more unalike, worn-out compulsion to collect and harbor, piece together, stupid into some remember machine.

Such fabulous unthinkable inventions we’ve made to merge or unmake: the trash compactor, the poem, all tragedy and story, pencils sharpened to

a point that keeps breaking, wilderness gone inward as

an ocean-going ship’s container, a Gatling gun, the AR-15 of the seething deranged, the H-bomb, Roman legions to Canterbury to blood-up fields into legend then dig the first plumbing but

how can you be in two places at once when you’re not anywhere at all!

(Thank you, Firesign Theatre, brilliant wackos, old vinyl on a turntable still in the game... )

Fine. Fuck it. Start over.

•

See the sheep on high ledges, the arctic squirrels below.

See the way Dante saw, sweeping his arm across Vasari’s great painting as Boccaccio looks off, the plague sealing city after city. Dante

in hell, steady-luminous those fact-finding trips to service his worldly Inferno.

Winter sleeps through. August at Denali, bears shovel it down a razor-edged maw — twigs! berries! more stems! — Fate hoards to prepare, sub-zeros, fattens into...

See the park’s camper bus, 92 miles how most of us jolt and slow, crossing hours more daylight than night all summer, rattling tin can with its exhaust and hissing gravel, the fear landslide an undersong just-possible, how we zigzag a mountain. Look!

Nearing a bear, the young caribou abruptly hesitant, shy as a leaf —

No! Don’t! Do not! That grizzly huge, bent to his ploy just these berries around here, his ignore ignore, sure, quiet-tense as a trigger, and we of fogged scratched windows so hard to open —

stop! The bus stopped. Jesus. The thing curious, closer... They’re not

that smart anyhow, a stage-whispering drunk from the back of our imperial realm, mile 62, the Park Road.

What did Venus decree in her temple up whichever narrow street in Rome, the Ancients�� stink of slops, standing water, a bear chained to a slave (out of slav, by the way, backdrop is horde, human spoils)

both shackled to a grindstone for a later mob and roar.

Here’s what we saw: the little caribou in reverse wanders sideways and safe. Our bus one big sigh or like a wheezing asthmatic the brakes unbrake.

Bad dream, bad dream, the undersong start to all fable if for real we’d seen that kill back to lions off their continent cornered, bloodied in the great amphitheaters, rearing up, a nail to hammer’s bite and blow. The wilderness in us

is endless. Near the cabin, near evening, a warbler in the fireweed hawk saw or heard, his switchblade clicked to — I was and I was whirling feathers, either bird — Every hunger is first century. Forever-thus feral cats at the Forum about to leap too. The Forum, last homage I shoveled holes and rocks to remake, mile 82, while the haymouse riddled the meadow down deep, her catacombs.

•

Time + beauty = ruins. Perfect shapes in the mind meet my friends Pointless and Threat and Years of Failure to Meld or Put to Rest. Ruthless is human.

I ask a composer: How to live with this undersong thing over and over, how to

get rid of it, the world of it —

He looks at me. What undersong thing? And shrugs I’ll put it on the test! Let students define it.

So I dreamt such a test: Go there. To Rome. Half-doze against a wall two thousand years of

flesh sweat insect wing ago, stone laid by hand, by a boy when a whip, a whip, a welling up, his will not speak.

Have at it. Please explain. Please fill in this blank.

Grief punctures like ice, moves like a glacier to flat and slog and myth, low blue and white flowers we hiked trail-less. The rangers insist. They insist —

never follow or lead, never lay down a path.

From above the look of us spread out, our seven or eight a band, little stray exhausted figures as over the land bridge from Asia,

circa: prehistory keeps coming, older than Rome, both both underfoot, understory, underway

miles below numb, it’s burning.

•

To see at all, you time and this time and time again.

The spirit leans intrigued, the other part bored, then there’s want, then there’s wait.

Once a city began with a wolf whose two human pups would build, would watch it fall, nursing at her milk for centuries in marble in bronze.

She stands there and cries of that pleasure, by turns a blood-chill. The tundra. At night.

A snake eats its own tail, forever at it on a fresco. A real snake leaves his skin near the gravel bar. Some words sting, some are sung. Another life isn’t smaller.

#marianne boruch #poetry #keats is coughing #poem #cuvinte potrivite #i need to lie down. i. i—#long post

4 notes · View notes

davidedwardking · 5 years ago

Text

My dog was lost for three days. What came back wasn't my dog.

As a kid, I was raised in a small fishing community on the Eastern side of Canada, surrounded by the gulf of Saint Lawrence and the Boreal Forest. The entirety of the land was close to 4000 foot square with an even smaller number of residents sprawled out over "main street", the main road running straight through our little town, and farming houses spread widely between areas of trees that were changed to domestic residential homes when agriculture stopped being profitable. In total, our community is surrounded by a vast expanse of ocean, and a seemingly endless barrage of trees that's spread over 55% of Canada's entire country. I spent most of my life hunting in those woods, so you can imagine my joy when my parents got me a "hunting dog".

Sandy was a Shetland Sheepdog, and while they were more fit to be herding and tracking sheep over grassy plains rather than rabbits and deer through dense forest, it didn't stop me from taking him with me on every excursion I possibly could. Sandy had been by my side for enough hunting trips that he'd grown accustomed to waking up just before breaking daylight, and on a few occasions helped track down small game like squirrels and rabbits through considerably large areas of forest.

Sandy wasn't my property, and wasn't treated like he "belonged" to me. Sandy was a member of the family, my best companion, and my truest friend. I think fondly back on all the times he'd sit in the front seat of the truck without being told, ready to go for a walk in whatever part of the forest I took him to. I can honestly say that there will never be a dog that will fill the void Sandy left in my life. I find that dog lovers relate to that sentiment more than others.

It was October 30th, the first day of deer hunting season. I had been talking with my family about taking Sandy, my hunting gear, and some essentials to one of the cabins my Grandfather owned in his heyday off an unmarked road a few hundred miles into the wilderness for a few days. This was met with a lot of protesting, but nothing could stop me from getting in some time looking for wild game in an area that wasn't already picked clean by illegal hunters earlier on in the month. Everything was packed into the old blue ford, Sandy included, and a few hours of driving later we were setting up camp in one of my Grandfather's secluded old cabins.

Here's where things got fucked up. Sandy, I'm so, so sorry.

I had spent most of the time of my life being in the wilderness. There were only a handful of times that things had gotten weird for me, but usually everything can be explained with scientific reason. That's why I brushed off Sandy's weirdness on the first few nights, chalking it up to the nervousness of a dog that's capable of hearing the far off noises of various coyotes, wolves, bears, and moose. This was untouched territory, of course. There had been plenty of time for wildlife to set up camp here, too.

The first night was fairly normal. I had set up Sandy's bed in the corner of the living room, next to the T.V. that looked like it came out of the early 90's. I figured I'd give Sandy the option to have someplace to lay down for a while, despite the fact that he slept curled up with me nine times out of ten. Close to 10 at night, Sandy looked straight at the wooden door and whined. I figured he needed to piss, and opened the door to let him out, not worried about having my best friend stray too far from me. Instead he sat just inside the door, looking out at the forests edge beyond the path. I too stood and looked for a few minutes before deciding he had just heard an errant critter close to the cabin. The rest of the night was fairly normal, and Sandy slept with me fine.

The second night, I chalked the weirdness up to Sandy's stress. Earlier in the day, we had been walking a few miles through the woods beyond the house, and I thought I heard the sound of twigs cracking under something heavy. I hoped it wasn't a moose, because my shotgun wouldn't have stood a chance, but something changed in Sandy that I didn't pay close attention to at the time. He hunched himself on his hind legs, his front pressed close to the ground. His mouth pulled up over his teeth, and he growled towards nothingness. I figured we'd try hunting again later, if whatever it was had left and should he be feeling up to it, but once we were inside he didn't want to move. Even when I tried to get him to go outside and do his business, he sat at the door and cried, wailing at me to let me know he didn't want to go out there. I didn't pressure him. If he pissed on the floor, so be it. Sandy never acted up before. I could excuse an accident or two, if he really didn't want to be out there. It must've been a bear, I thought, before locking the door and calling it a night.

The third night is where things went to hell, /nosleep/, and I still don't fully understand what happened.

Sandy didn't eat all day. I managed to shoot a rabbit in the early morning, when Sandy decided he didn't want to be outside any longer than he had to, and retired inside for the day. I cooked it up, threw a little gravy on it, and gave it to my dog. I didn't do this all the time, but I figured now was a special occasion, and maybe a treat would put him in a better mood for another walk the next day.

Sandy didn't touch it. He didn't so much as sniff it. Instead, he sat at my side on the couch, watching the doorway intently. I tucked him under one of my arms, and he laid his head on my lap, eyes still locked on that door. Close to three hours of watching grainy VHS tapes on an outdated television set, Sandy started crying, hugging himself close to my body. This is where my judgement took me down the wrong path for the first time of many.

It must sound silly, being my dogs protector rather than my dog being mine, but this was my family. I figured if there was something out there that was scaring Sandy so bad, then it was my job to do something about it. I loaded my 4.10, opened the door, stood in the doorway and waited.

I must've waited at least a half hour, staring into nothing. There was barely any sound, save for the faint buzz of insects and leaves rustling in the cold autumn wind. Moose aren't elegant creatures, and if it were a moose, I would've heard it coming. Around the 40 minute mark, Sandy took off like a shot, into the darkness of the trees beyond the path, barking wildly. I started to get worried, despite my knowledge that my dog isn't entirely helpless in the wilderness. There were still bigger animals that would've liked to take a bite out of him if there wasn't a lot of food for the winter.

I heard Sandy's bark fade away in the distance, and then stop altogether.

I waited hours standing in the doorway with my shotgun cocked and ready to put down whatever it was that was waiting in the woods. I waited hours for Sandy to come back to the house. I waited until the sun was cracking through the trees, and then I waited until that night, sitting on my porch step, feigning off sleep deprivation to see my dog come back.

Sandy did come back, but not for another three days.

Fog had rolled in at that point, and it was getting darker, the night painting the sky a navy blue. Tracking over the last few days proved futile, and I started to get worried that I'd need to leave and find more provisions to last me the next few nights. I couldn't leave Sandy up there, lost in the woods, cold and probably hungry. The thought that he might be waiting out there for me to find him and bring him back home was distressing enough. I was packing the bag that hung on the coat rack next to the door with what I'd need for the next day's trip. I figured tomorrow would be the last day before I'd go into town and see if my Father would help me find Sandy. He was a retired, graying man, but I was sure if I brought up Sandy's name he'd be more than willing to help me search for him. Thankfully, Sandy came back before I'd even finished that train of thought.

I saw him from the window, on the path that lead down to the main road, a few dozen feet away from the house. Normally I'd hear him scamper to the doorway and paw at the door a few times, eager to come in, but this was different. I could see the reflection of his eyes as green pearls in the murky fog that had swamped the house. For a moment I thought it might be an animal, but the outline of his body in the wisps of thick low-lying clouds was unmistakable. Still, despite myself, I hesitated. There was something different about his body language. I stared out the window for a few more moments before reason overcame my gut instinct. Sandy could be hurt, I thought. Or worse.

I flung the doorway open, but he didn't come right away. Instead he stood there, watching me intently, and when he didn't move I whistled to him. "Here, Sandy," I coaxed him towards the house. "here, boy".

The way he moved was... different. It was as though his hips had been dislocated, and the angle of his paws changed direction with every step, as though he'd forgotten how to walk properly. His head was bowed to the ground, but his teeth weren't bared. He didn't seem aggressive. The only way I could describe the look he gave me was "sheepish", like he'd just gotten into something he wasn't supposed to and I yelled at him for it.

I thought he might hurt himself hopping up onto the elevated step if he'd dislocated his hips, but he did just fine. His back half swung a little, oddly enough, and his paws almost folded underneath himself, but he didn't go sprawling. He sat on the step and didn't take his look off me. It wasn't until I had moved from the doorway completely, opened the door wide and waited for him to walk in that he moved.

Straight to his bed. He didn't stop at my hand and sniff at me. He didn't wait for pets or jump up on me like used to. It was straight to his bed, where he sat and watched me for quite some time afterwards.

I returned to the movie at hand. I called to him a few times, but he didn't respond. His ears didn't so much as raise to the sound of his voice, or the pat of my hand on the worn out couch beside me. I had missed my buddy, but I wasn't about to move him physically towards me. There was something about him that said I shouldn't have let him in, but I chalked it up to silliness, and a few hours later I went to bed. The more I think back on it, I don't recall him blinking once. He sat there like a statue, and when I turned off the light, I could still see the reflection of jade green following me as I went into my room and shut the door.

I could have sworn I heard him walk in the night, the sound of nails clicking against the wooden floor coming up to the door of my room, but they were slow and deliberate. They weren't like the quickness of Sandy realizing I'd gone to bed and coming to curl up. I heard the noises stop outside of my bedroom, but I didn't hear his whine. I thought nothing of it and fell into a deep sleep.

When I woke in the morning, I figured it must've been a dream. Sandy was still sitting in the upright position I left him in when I went to bed. It was as though he didn't move a muscle the entire night, and when I said good morning, he didn't so much as wag his tail.

He did follow me into the kitchen, but he paused at the doorway when I put his bowl down on the floor and filled it up with supermarket dog food. Once again, his back half moved weirdly as he slowly made his way towards me. There was a nagging feeling that something was off putting about the way he looked that day. It was like he had gotten a little longer overnight.

Sandy hunched down again, like when he was walking to the door the night before. He didn't come into the kitchen. I figured he must've been hungry being out in the wild for so long, but he eyed me like he was waiting for me to come a little closer rather than touch the food. It goes without saying, but after a few moments of a staring contest between me and my unblinking dog, I called off that foolishness and called his name out loudly. Not even a flinch. I didn't want to move closer to my dog to leave the kitchen door, but this was my Sandy, and the most damage he'd ever done was eat flies. Sure enough, as I passed him, he turned and his body swayed unnaturally, but he didn't move towards me.

When I left that day, I couldn't find anything. The deer tracks in the mud were made a few days prior and went cold off naturally made trails through the woods. I couldn't hear bugs, or birds, or even the howl of a nearby coyote. The only sounds for miles away from the campsite were my own breathing, and the sound of crunching leaves underneath my feet. When the sun started to set, I started making my way back, but I should've just packed my shit and left.

Just behind a cluster of trees, with the house just visible beyond the rise, I figured I found out the reason why the animals had abandoned this place.

Generally, when there are mass animal deaths, that usually means that something is wrong in the area of the slaughter, and wildlife are usually smart enough to get the hell out of dodge. Even cats are bred instinctively not to like drinking from water that is close to where their food is, because if you saw a dead animal close to a stream, you'd figure the stream was tainted and find another source of water.

Hundreds of squirrels were disemboweled and strewn across the grass in an almost perfect circle. Most of them were skinned alive, but when I turned to heave up all the contents in my stomach, there were a few dozen that were inside out. I couldn't help but vomit repeatedly as I tried my best to walk around the circle of tiny organs and mashed up bodies, not just over the sight, but because the smell was ungodly. I don't know how long they'd been out there, but if I'd stumbled across this sooner, I'd have left with Sandy in tow immediately after. Gradually, the bodies stopped, and delved off into a random dead squirrel here and there. The biggest thing I managed to find, just a few feet off the unholy feeding ground, was a deer.

It looked as though something had decided to skin it alive from hide to neck, and draped some of the skin over a branch like someone was tanning the hide. I don't know how long it had been there, but it smelled like it had been dead for quite some time, despite the fact that there wasn't a single fucking fly. The head had been cut off clean just above the shoulders, and when I realized the organs had been removed, I moved from a walking pace through the forest to a jog. Thankfully the cabin wasn't too far off. I heaved one final time, wiped my mouth off on the back of my sleeve, and looked up to the house to see Sandy watching me from the window.

I tried to reason with myself, and tell myself Sandy's odd behavior could've been trauma. I know it's stupid to think of it now, but at the time, it was the only reasonable explanation I had to keep myself from going insane. The elongating body could've just been the loneliness getting to me. Sandy had realized there was something up with this place, and the second he noticed it I should've taken this warning and taken off back into town.

Once the door was shut behind me, I started packing the food and essentials back into boxes, moving quickly to try and get my things into the truck before night came. It'd be dangerous to try and maneuver my way through the trails at night, as the hills off Kelly's Mountain were steep, and in pitch darkness with my only companion being my headlights, it would've been easy to slide off a ravine and never be heard from again. I didn't want to stay one more night, but I had no choice. I had gotten back to the house just moments before the sun finally receded past the horizon, and we were bathed in a navy blue sky once again. I didn't pay attention to Sandy. He just sat at his bed and watched me pack. I figured no harm no foul, I'd throw his stuff in the truck in the morning and we'd be back in town before night the next day. Glancing at him for just a moment, it was a passing thought that he was looking a little longer today, and when I went to bed, it was a hard time getting to sleep for the next few hours.

It must've been close to 4 or 5 in the morning when I heard it.

The sound of whistling. The same whistle I used to call my dog. I broke out into a cold sweat when I realized that whoever slaughtered those squirrels, hung the skin up, left what he didn't need, could've very well broken into my house.

The door to my room didn't make a sound as I opened it slowly, thankfully. I waited a moment, listening to someone call my dog for a few more seconds before I dared poke my head out from the door frame to get a good look and whoever it was that could've hurt Sandy.

The outside door was open. All I saw was the back half of Sandy, too long and lanky, almost coiled around the back of the door. His front half was outside. Whatever it was that had impersonated my dog, it was whistling slowly, calling for Sandy.

When I could've sworn that it had hunched down to the ground again, and said "Saaaannn-deeee" in the most ungodly voice I'd ever fucking heard, I closed the door just as softly as I'd opened it.

I don't know how long I waited with my back pressed up against the door. I knew I left my gun in the bag on the coat rack. I know I didn't sleep. I waited until I saw the sun break over the horizon, and then I waited some more, until it must've been mid-day and I finally got the balls to open the door again and make a break for the truck. I wouldn't die in that place.

"Sandy" was gone, and the door was open. His food was untouched, but the fridge was open, and all the meat was gone. I didn't bother packing his stuff. I just threw my bag over my shoulder, made my way to the ford as fast as I could, and turned on the ignition. I can't describe the feeling that overcame me as I realized that I'd have to leave Sandy in this place. The thought that he could be dead was never a thought in my mind. I don't think I could cope with the knowledge that whatever I allowed in my house, whatever disemboweled those animals, could've done the same with him.

I made my way down the winding paths and roads as fast as I possibly could without veering off the cliffs. I felt like I was turning in circles down this labyrinth that would take me back to that house, but when I reached the pavement on the stretch of road back to town, I felt relief wash over me, thinking I was safe.

Just as I was pulling off onto the cement, I felt something hard hit the back windshield, sending broken glass into the passengers seat. I only got a glimpse of the deer's decapitated head catching on unbroken glass and tumbling into the back seat. I cried for most of the way home, hands clenching the steering wheel so hard my knuckles were white.

I wish I could leave this off with a positive note, /nosleep/. I wish I could tell you that I found Sandy at home, waiting for me. I wish I could tell you that was the end of it, a traumatizing experience in the woods that I'll get over with time.

Last night, I found it hard to sleep. I kept replaying the entirety of my trip to Kelly's Mountain in my head. I figured I wouldn't be sleeping for a while, and laid there, listening to the wind through my open window.

I could've sworn I heard the whistle I used to call my dog with, coming from the forests edge.

#favorites

3 notes · View notes

cheapflightscan-blog · 4 years ago

Text

7 Best Adventure Destinations for You in USA

The United States has many adventure destinations for every kind of travelers. The hot springs, canyons, and dense forests add the endless adventure to your trip to USA.

Top 9 Adventure Destinations

1. Boulder, Colorado

Colorado may have hit features as of late when they sanctioned maryjane, yet Boulder has significantly more to offer than opiates. The city sits in the Valley between the Rocky Mountains and the Great Plains and is shining with regular excellence.

The Flatirons sit pride of spot in Boulder, Colorado. From the beginning the rugged pinnacles of the mountains run smooth bluff appearances—as smooth as the base of an iron, as their name would recommend. The Flatirons seem as though the sort of precipice face you could slide down.

The Flatirons capture everyone’s attention in this city, yet on the off chance that you look simply behind them you will see three noteworthy pinnacles known as The Guardians of the Flatirons. It is towards these folks that you ought to turn your consideration. The three pinnacles of The Guardians are Green Mountain, South Boulder Peak and Bear Peak. Maximizing at a height of more than 8,500 feet, these mountains are not kidding business.

2. Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming

The Yelllowstone National Park is the second in the countdown of adventure destinations. On the off chance that you go to Yellowstone you are going to climb—that is an easy decision. There are many path from which to pick. And every one of them will give you incredible perspectives on the fields, brooks and slopes that make up Yellowstone’s scene. The Fairy Falls Trail is among the most well known gratitude to its perspectives on the vivid Grand Prismatic Spring.

In any case, Yellowstone offers something other than a heap of climbing courses.

The recreation center is additionally loaded up with underground aquifers. Underground aquifers are promoted for expanding blood flow, freeing the group of poisons and supporting cell oxygenation and recovery. In spite of the fact that a large number of the springs in Yellowstone are too hot to even consider swimming, there are two spots in the recreation center that are ideal for taking a plunge.

3. The Grand Canyon, Arizona

Is there anywhere more iconic in the US than the Grand Canyon? Photos simply do not do the Canyon justice—you need to see it in the flesh to appreciate just how insanely expansive it is.

Most people will walk the well-trodden routes that carve through the Canyon. The Bright Angel Trail is a favorite thanks to its scenic views. It winds 9.3 miles along paths that hug the sides of the Canyon’s reddish cliffs. But hiking through the Canyon will only show you the tiniest fraction of the big picture.

4. Asheville, North Carolina

To the extent experience goals in the US go, Asheville is truly underestimated. The climbing in Asheville is the absolute best in the nation (and I’m unquestionably not one-sided in light of the fact that I used to live there). With regards to natural air and nature, you could do a ton more awful than excursion in Asheville.

The stand-apart path in Asheville is the Black Balsam Knob. The walk is extreme because of the length and slope however a long way from unthinkable, and it bears fabulous perspectives on the southern Blue Ridge Mountains.

5. Lake Tahoe, California

6. Acadia National Park, Maine

Acadia National Park is lovely. Arranged prevalently on Maine’s Mount Desert Island, the recreation center is encircled by the Atlantic Ocean and shrouded in forest that changes shading alongside the season. In fall, the whole park is a splendid red as the leaves perform one final stunt before tumbling to the ground.

Acadia National Park’s most notable component is Cadillac Mountain. From October through to March, Cadillac Mountain is the primary spot you can see the dawn in the US. Truly cool, eh? This is on the grounds that during this season the sun rises south of due east.

7. Maui’s North Shore, Hawaii

The sun sparkles similarly as brilliant on the North Shore and as of late, the zone has considered a to be of action as various idiosyncratic restaurants, boho boutiques and family-run hotels have sprung up. Regardless of this enterprising wave that has cleared the shore, the district has remained tasteful. There is as yet an unmistakable absence of messy vacationer poop – express gratitude toward God. This makes it simple to relax here for quite a long time at once without getting unsettled.

Kiteboarding is another movement that will make you resemble a boss if your companions figure out how to snap a photograph before you faceplant the water. For those new to the game, kiteboarding is fundamentally surfing yet you clutch a mammoth sail, which traps the breeze and pulls you at high speeds along the water. It can get quite outrageous on a breezy day.

#travel #trip

1 note · View note

swashbucklery · 6 months ago

Text

The October full moon is wet and bleak, the saddest kind of late-autumn weather. The rain and wind have beaten away the fall foliage and left it in a soggy mess on the ground, slowly browning in piles in the gutter and along the forest trails. The longer nights coinciding with damp days have made the last few weeks feel like an endless expanse of blue-grey and brown, despite the rain-bright green of the cypress and hemlock and cedar high on the hills.

The winter wet has found them early this year. Meet me, Jade had whispered into the phone last night, and Kit's heart had leapt in spite of the practicalities of finding her clothes even a little bit dry the next day. Please.

+ Another (mini) installment in the 90s Werewolves AUniverse is happening soon, check your calendars.

#tanthamay #tanthamore #jade claymore #kit tanthalos #willow 2022 #90s werewolf au tag #awoooo #it's rising on the full moon #in case that's not clear #because i'm a huge dork and i can do what i want #my fic #willow: medium powerful magic once adjusted for inflation

12 notes · View notes

immortaldream · 5 years ago

Photo

Immortal III: Stealer of Souls (excerpt)

Immortal III: STEALER OF SOULS/ (excerpt)

October 7, 2014 at 3:52 PM

CHAPTER 10: The Playground

Sonya awoke with a start, pushing the dream away. Morning light filled the room, shinning down through the skylights.

The vampire was stretched out on the divan across from her. She wore alight blue gown that exquisitely accentuated her dark skin. Her manicured feet were bare. Annabelle smiled at her. “Well good morning. Did you sleep well?”

Sonya sat up, rubbing her eyes and stared at the older woman with a mixture of confusion and fear. You ain’t human! trembled on her lips. Instead she demanded: “Who are you?”

The older woman smiled. “I’m Annabelle…”

Sonya jumped to the floor. “I wanna go home! My Mama will be worried!” It was the plaintive cry of a child to be returned to her warm hearth.

Annabelle leisurely got to her feet. “Everything’s fine. Your mama don’t even know you’re gone. I’m sorry I brought you here like I did.But I had to. Your life’s in danger.”

There was weighted silence.

“How did I get here?”

“You know how, Sonya. You came through the mirror.”

Sonya shook her head vehemently. “Uh-uh. How did I get here?”

“Your mirror is a portal to other worlds.” The Indigo spread her hands expansively. “This house is one of them.”

“I’ve seen you before…in my dreams.”

Annabelle held her gaze. “Yes, I’m sure you have.”

“But,when that thing that came after me, it wasn’t a dream,” Sonya whispered. “You were there—you helped me! I remember! I felt you—I felt you come inside me!” She sat down heavily on the bed. “Why would anybody wanna hurt me…?” She jumped up again, her face wild. “He might hurt my family! I got to warn them!”

“He won’t hurt them,” the vampire said calmly. “He’s not interested in them. Only you.”

“My mom will be worried when she finds me gone!” Sonya shouted, near tears again. “I gotta go back!”

“Calm down honey… time has no meaning in this house,” Annabelle reassured her. “If you wanna leave, I’ll take you back. But when you go, you’ll re-enter your world at the same time you left.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Ever hear your mama talk about folks walking between the raindrops? Well you in-between the raindrops now. Time is standing still.”

Sonya breathed shallowly through her nose—not daring to move. Maybe if she didn’t move this nightmare would disappear. She’d be at home again: safely tucked into bed.

“You—you stopped time?”

“No, time doesn’t exist here. You could stay for a hundred years and never age a day.”

“You must think I’m crazy,” the girl scoffed, “or smoking rush one!”

Annabelle touched her shoulder. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

Leaving the room they turned left, the woman led her past gleaming wooden walls, with sinuous carvings. At the end of the hallway, double doors stood open to reveal a gathering room filled with oil paintings of mermen, snakes with female torsos, and other fantastic creatures.

A fireplace centered the room; couches were arranged about the floor. A tall mirror stood to their right. Annabelle walked over to the mirror, touched her fingertips to glass, and Sonya’s bedroom appeared. Nothing had been touched.

“It’s a trick,” Sonya breathed, her eyes still on the mirror. “You’re tricking me.”

“You know I’m not,” Annabelle replied softly. “I’ll take you home whenever you get ready. But this is a beautiful, beautiful place if you give it a chance. Everybody’s been waiting to meet you. You gonna miss ‘em if you leave now.”

The girl chewed her bottom lip. She was curious. And besides this was the biggest house she’d ever seen! Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to stay a little while, I’m already here…“Everybody like who?”

Annabelle smiled. “You’ll see. Come on, let’s find you something to wear.”

She led Sonya back to her bedroom, opened the wardrobe cabinet and pulled clothing from it. Minutes later, the young woman emerged dressed in a white blouse and a skirt that hung low around her hips; her hair freshly combed.

As they came abreast of the staircase, another Indigo woman strolled from behind it. She was slender and muscular, with a long face,flashing eyes and brown sugar skin. Her thick hair was braided into an elaborate knot atop her head.

And she was totally nude. She paused in the corridor, gazing at Sonya with open curiosity; then flashed a smile. “You’re Sonya, aren’t you?”

Wordlessly,the girl nodded. “Well, I’m Selena. Nice to meet you. Maybe I’ll see you later.” Selena strode past her, her gait proud and confident, to the same door Sonya had tried escape through.

Annabelle’s face creased in annoyance. “Could you try wearing clothes sometimes?” she called.

Selena glanced back over her shoulder, her brown face unconcerned. “For what? When I spend my days like this!”She transformed into a black panther.

“Wow—just wow!”Sonya exclaimed, clapping her hands together like a delighted child,“Too cool!”

Growling,the panther dipped her head in the girl’s direction as if to say:“Thank you!” and turned green eyes to the door. It swung open to reveal a lush jungle. Selena leaped through the archway and the portal shut behind her.

Annabelle laughed at Sonya’s enchantment. “You’re too precious! Are you hungry?”

“I’m starving!”

“Well,let’s eat!”

They walked into an alcove—the castle seemed endless—just to the left of the door. It was furnished with a marble table,candles, and two chairs. Yet the wall to their right was made of glass. Beyond these transparent barriers, was a beach and foaming ocean.

Frolicking in the waves, were mermen and women of every color imaginable; with fishtails or scaled legs; some with slits for eyes and noses; others with human features, diving in and out of the water. Galloping up and down the sand, were two female centaurs.

Sonya gawked at the creatures, a goofy half smile on her face. “Are they real?”

“As real as you and me.”

“I wanna go out there,” breathed Sonya. “I wanna get a closer look.”

“Later…Cle-Menti!”

Cle-Menti blurred to her side. He was naked from the waist up; and clothed only in a pair of loose fitting brown trousers, and open toed sandals. His thick, kinky hair was molded about his wide face. His muscles were so well defined, they seemed carved into his chocolate-hued body.Without a doubt Cle-Menti was the darkest, most gorgeous man Sonya had ever seen.

Annabelle smiled up at him. “Good morning… Sonya, this is Cle-Menti…Would you please see if they have anything ready in the kitchen?”

His basso profundo voice filled the room. “I’ll take care of it.”He turned his attention to Sonya. “Did you sleep well, princess?”

She stared up at him. “Yeah…” Even to her own ears she sounded like a child.

“Good.I’ll be right back.”

Minutes later, he returned carrying a covered breakfast tray. The smell of eggs and apple turnovers filled the room. He smiled into her eyes,his teeth flashing against his dark skin, and placed the dishes in front of the women; along with glasses of melon juice.

Cle-Menti took Sonya’s hand. “I hope you enjoy your breakfast princess. I cooked it myself.” He pressed his thick lips to her fingers. She gawked up at him, unable to manage another word.

“She wants to go out after breakfast.” A sly smile played about Annabelle’s lips. “You mind taking her?”

“Of course not,” He said, never taking his eyes off Sonya’s face.“Just call me when you finish eating.”

The food was delicious—the eggs fluffy with just the right amount of cheese; the turnovers sweet and buttery. Sonya turned her chair to one side, so she could watch the creatures gamboling beyond the glass wall; her questions forgotten. By now, the centaurs had galloped to the edge of the ocean and were tossing a ball back and forth to the mermaids.

Annabelle spooned eggs into her mouth, and then sipped from her glass of juice.“I supposed you’re wondering why I look like you. Think of me as an older sister. The same blood that flows through your veins flows through mine. We’re connected by an ancient family line.”

“We are Nosferatu: vampires.”

“There was a weighted silence.

“Last night you bit me,” Sonya said, in a matter-of-fact voice.

The vampire held her gaze. “I gave you some of my blood to make you stronger. I’ve been watching you for a while now.”

Sonya swallowed a mouthful of turnover. “Can you see me all the time? I mean, not just when I’m in my bedroom?”

“Oh yes… You’re different from other people. I guess you figured that one out by now. Well, there are other people out there who’re different, too; folks not as nice as me, Selena, and Cle-Menti. Folks who wanna control you—make you do things for them.”

Sonya thought of the dream. Of all the words she could use to describe Annabelle, “nice” wasn’t one of them. But she kept this to herself too.

“I’ve been protecting you, but I can’t watch over you all the time. You got to be taught how to take care of yourself. You’re family—my family—soi t’s my job to teach you.”

Are you taking care of yourself? Don’t trust her baby.It was Cassandra’s voice, heard as if from a distance. Sonya shivered.

“You cold?” the young woman shook her head. “Are you finished eating?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Annabelle pushed her chair back from the table, rose and walked back out into the hallway, Sonya followed. They stood before the door. “Don’t ever try to open this door or any of the doors in this by yourself.Understand?”

Sonya nodded impatiently, now in a hurry to be off. “Cle-Menti, she’s ready,” called Annabelle.

The words were barely out of her mouth, before he blurred alongside her.“You wish to go out princess?”

“Uh-huh,”Sonya stammered. Boy, I sound brain dead. But he is so fine!

He took her hand and they faced the door. “We wish to go to the beach,” he commanded. It swung open, to reveal golden sands and foaming turquoise waters; under an unbelievably bright orange-blue sky.

They strolled around the corner of the mansion, to find the two centaurs now racing each other up and down the sand; one Bronze, with green eyes, reddish-brown hair that curled about her shoulders, and a dark red mare’s hindquarters. The other was Amber with slanted, almond eyes, and black hair that flowed to her waist—a waist that ended in black horse’s body. Each wore silver brassiere scovering their torsos.

“CanI get a closer look?”

Cle-Menti smiled indulgently, “Of course!” He shouted in a booming voice that echoed along the beach: “This is Sonya and she’d like to play with you; but behave yourselves! None of you tricks—you hear?”

Sonya approached the centaurs slowly, twisting her hands in front of her like a child. “Hi…” she said softly.

They regarded her with open curiosity. “I’m Lui and this is Juliana,”the Amber centaur lisped. “Would you like a ride?”

“Oh yes!” Sonya breathed.

“Well,climb on my back then! We’re going to race!”

“And I’m going to win!” Juliana pronounced.

“Hold on tight!” Lui warned. She galloped down the beach—with Sonya holding on for dear life—then back again. The Indigo girl glanced over her shoulder, and glimpsed mermen and women looking on with great interest.

A crowd of aquatic folk had gathered near the ocean’s edge, and were bobbing up and down in the waves, smiling and pointing: waiting for their chance to play with this newcomer.

As Sonya slid off Lui’s back, she whispered: “You would make a lovely centaur! Wouldn’t you like to be one of us?”

Sonya frowned “Oh no!”

“And why not?” Juliana chipped in petulantly. “Are we not beautiful?”Beside her Lui pouted.

Sonya’s face split in a wide grin, flattered beyond measure that these magical equines wanted her to join their family. “You’re the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen!”Mollified they smiled back.

“Well?”said Lui expectantly.

“I have a family,” Sonya explained. “If I stayed with you, they’d miss me.”

Fora moment Juliana and Lui seemed to seriously consider. “We could be your family,” Juliana offered, smiling openly as if this solved everything.

Sonya looked distressed. I don’t want to make them mad! “But I’d miss them too!” she stammered, “I love them!”

“What is… love?” asked Lui, looking confused.

Sonya’s jaw dropped. “You miss a person when they’re gone,” she groped for words, “you don’t ever want to be without them; and when they hurt, you hurt too.”

They listened intently. “Oh. . .!” said Juliana nodding; beside her Lui bobbed her head in agreement.

But it was obvious they still didn’t understand. Another small almost imperceptible shiver of fear coursed through Sonya. “Could we ride to the water?” she asked.

Available at: www.vjeffersandqveal.com

In audio at: http://tehotep.wixsite.com/immortaliiiaudiobook

#Afrofuturism BlackFantasy TimeTravel BlackVampires

6 notes · View notes

fishoutofwater87 · 5 years ago

Photo

Wild Woody’s Campground and Amazing Antique Stores (Laurel Springs, NC)

Situated on Highway 18 just off the Blue Ridge Parkway exists a blast from the past in the form of an eclectic campground and antique store located in the remote community of Laurel Springs, NC. Surrounded by lush evergreens and rolling hills, Wild Woodys transports its visitors back to a time of simplicity and carefree splendor--to a place undisturbed by smart phones, cable TV, and other man-made interruptions.

As I pull into the driveway my eyes are met by brightly-colored handmade signs advertising Vintage Campers for rent, all unique with themes ranging from Coca-cola to Hanna Barbera cartoon dogs. 500 yards to my East, rows upon rows of shiny motorcycles sit proudly outside the entrance to Freeborne’s (the neighboring motel that dates back to the early 1950′s). An old jeep outfitted with longhorn steer antlers and a giant American flag pulls up and blares its “I wish I was in Dixie’s land” horn. Its driver, a red-faced man with a long gray ponytail sticks his head out the window and yells, “Yah-ooooooo!”

I enter the first antique store, previously a Phillips 66 gas station that was later sold to Gulf Oil. Having grown up with a mother who made me traipse through nearly every antique store located along the greater Carolinian coast, I had never before observed anything quite like this--endless arrays of nostalgia ranging from Old Hollywood movie posters, vinyl records and cassette tapes from every decade and every genre imaginable, vintage clothing varying from 1920's era wedding gowns to 1970's macrame vests, leather cowboy boots, and faded Levi’s. Collectible figurines including porcelain dolls and G.I. Joes, framed tintypes depicting early 20th century gypsies, props from famous movie sets, decked-out mannequin heads and dummies posed in situational circumstances, furniture ranging from Victorian loveseats to Civil War era pianos--all arranged with care and tucked in amongst themed rooms, decorated walls, and souvenir-lined ceilings. As I navigate the never-ending maze of mingled relics, it becomes increasingly apparent to me that Wild Woodys is more a journey than it is a destination.

I begin to wonder who the mastermind is behind all of this and am then introduced to “Blondie,” the owner of forty-eight years. Blondie (real name Linda Woody) is a friendly and well-seasoned woman with long-flowing platinum-blonde hair, hazel eyes trimmed in black eyeliner and false eyelashes, dressed in a short-sleeved button down cotton shirt and cut-off denim shorts. She is part of twelve generations dating back to 1738 that “came over the pond” from Scotland, Ireland, and England where they settled in Ashe County on land they purchased for 3 and 1/2 cents an acre. Originally owned by her cousin Rand Osbourne from 1946 to 1969, Wild Woodys began its life as a diner, general store, and the aforementioned gas station. Linda’s brother Ken Woody bought it from Rand in 1969 and after two years sold it to Linda in 1971.

In talking with Linda she reveals to me one of her best historical events--becoming a great-grandmother. The gentle laugh lines and crows feet carved gingerly in her face cause my forehead to furrow. “You don’t look near old enough to be a great grandmother,” I tell her.

She lifts her hand to her heart and tilts her head, “Well thank you. She’s thirteen! I’m hoping to see if she will take an interest to the store. So far she’s only interested in two things here--the ice-cream and the doll figurines.”

As I turn my focus back towards the expanse of relics, it is all I can do but speculate how much insurance Blondie must have on this extraordinary museum and tribute to Americana. A heaven for “Pickers” and a nightmare for the Bourgie, it is said that people, upon entrance, either remain for hours or immediately run for the door.

Before I myself begin to head out the door (about an hour and a half past my arrival time) I ask Linda the one question I had been wanting to ask all along. “Where on earth do you find all these things?!?”

Her hazel eyes narrow as a smile begins to spread across her rose-colored cheeks. “Well,” the back of her right index finger pressed to her bottom lip, “Why here of course!”

***Rated 5 out of 5 stars, be sure to check out Wild Woody’s Facebook page and read through the 40+ highly complimentary reviews. You may also wish to check out UNC-TV’s five minute segment filmed October of 2014. Links posted below.

>>>>>>>>>>Click here to view additional pics<<<<<<<<<<<

>>>>>>Click here to go to Wild Woody’s Facebook page<<<<<

>>>>>>>Click here to watch the UNC-TV segment<<<<<<<<

youtube

#wildwoodys #laurelspringsnc #ashecounty #blueridgeparkway #highway18 #nccampgrounds #antiques #vintage #vintageclothing #vintagefinds #treasures #souvenirs #blastfromthepast #flashback #nostalgia #tbt #americanpickers #collectorsitems

2 notes · View notes

thezodiaczone · 6 years ago

Text

August Forecast for Capricorn

Stay centered, Capricorn. Your energy could come in waves this month, spiking to a high-pitched intensity one day and dropping into the depths the next. The Sun is taking its annual plunge in Leo and your eighth house of intimacy, merging and transformation, a time when you’ll crave more privacy and one-on-one encounters. Skip the huge crowds that make you feel overwhelmed. You’re an emotional sponge and could soak up everyone’s feelings; or you might just have your mind on one specific matter during this tunnel-vision transit, and it will be hard to engage in lighthearted small talk. With the Sun heating up your erotic eighth house, this could also be one steamy season—hello, sizzling summer escapades!

But be careful where you aim that concentrated Capricorn power, especially when the emotional thunderclouds gather. Communication planet Mercury is retrograde in Leo and this potent zone from July 26 to August 19, which notoriously mucks up communication, technology and travel plans. With Mercury awry in Leo, a problematic ex may resurface, along with some old trust issues or unhealed wounds from a past betrayal. You might be unsure of someone’s true motives and whether they’re being above-board with you.

The eighth house rules joint ventures and shared finances, so money matters could be lit up with both opportunities and complicated entanglements in August. While Mercury is retrograde, go easy on the spending, especially with your credit cards (lock them up—or cut ’em up—if you can!). Guard against identity theft by strengthening passwords and deleting anything in a social media feed or in your email that could potentially be compromising. Better safe than sorry. Watch where you send those racy texts and DMs—during Mercury retrograde, they could end up in the wrong person’s feed. Oops!

The fiercest day of the month arrives August 11, when a Leo solar (new moon) eclipse beams into your alchemical eighth house, bringing a supercharged fresh start to your most intimate ties and financial endeavors. You might receive a windfall through a loan, grant, commission or inheritance or have a chance to buy or sell property or renovate your home. An exciting opportunity to merge your powers for mutual gain may come out of the blue. The eclipse could also bring a soulmate encounter (with steamy benefits!) or unexpected news of a proposal or pregnancy (yours or someone close to you).

In astrology, solar and lunar eclipses are harbingers of change. They push us off the fence if we’ve been procrastinating or wishy-washy, and force events to culminate quickly. While that pace can be jarring, once the dust settles, everything starts to make sense. This is the second-to-last eclipse in a series that’s been touching down on the Leo/Aquarius axis since February 2017, bringing waves of change to your self-confidence, work, money management, living situation and daily habits. One final eclipse will arrive here in January 2019. Anything you invest in at today’s eclipse could start to show returns—or at least let you know whether it will ever pay off—by early next year.

You’ll be glad to let the drama (hopefully) simmer down starting August 7, when combustible Uranus starts a five-month retrograde. Since May 15, Uranus has been in Taurus, causing sweeping change in your fifth house of passion, self-expression and theatrics. This is Uranus’ first visit here since 1942, a once-in-a-lifetime transit for many Capricorns that will last until April 2026. If your love life has suddenly become spicy—or wildly unpredictable—that’s the side-spinning planet playing the role of a quirky Cupid.

The first four months of Uranus’ retrograde could slow down some of the curveballs—or possibly bring the return of an ex, since retrogrades rule the past. You might also decide to get a little experimental in the boudoir or to date someone who’s a dramatically different “type” than the usual. Uranus in your spotlight-stealing fifth house may have brought fame or increased attention. Has it gone to your head a little bit? If you’ve been playing the diva role, Uranus retrograde will remind you to keep it humble. On the other hand, if you haven’t been speaking up for yourself and your ideas, you could work through old confidence issues, perhaps with some mentorship or training. Steady Capricorn, have you become a little fickle? Rambunctious Uranus can make you run hot and cold, so be mindful not to lead people on.

You’ll get another chance to self-assess starting August 12, when energizing Mars plows into Capricorn for its second visit this year (its first trip was from March 17 to May 16). While this would normally give you a jolt of inspiration and sexy magnetism, Mars will be retrograde until August 27, which could cause you to come on way too strong or hit a sour note with people. The silver lining: From August 27 to September 10, you’ll have Mars moving full steam ahead through your sign. Your confidence and charisma should rocket off the charts—and others will surely take note!

This will only accelerate starting August 23, when the Sun starts a month-long visit to Virgo and your expansive ninth house. Adventure, travel and endless possibilities spread out in front of you as you emerge from that emo cocoon. And when the Sun snaps into a rare and harmonious grand trine with radical Uranus in your passion sector and your ruling planet, structured Saturn, in Capricorn, some of those starry-eyed visions could turn into tangible reality. The caveat? You’ll need to ditch some (not all!) of your trademark caution to seize this moment. An opportunity for love, fame or a chance to spread a powerful message could arise. Make sure you’re at your glamorous and charismatic best! (Every Cap we know has secret “stage presence,” even if you only pull it out for select occasions.) You could multiply your fanbase and following…or follow your heart with a love affair, whether that’s a romantic adventure with your one-and-only or a far-flung fling with someone wildly different than your usual type.

The next day, August 26, the year’s only Pisces full moon spotlights your communication house, bringing exciting news or long-overdue dialogue. At last, you’ll get the answer you’ve been waiting for, and you can proceed accordingly instead of staying stuck in limbo. Local events could turn up kindred spirits and great conversations that lead to more. Hit the street fair or late summer festival or host a gathering at your favorite hotspot where you can play superconnector and introduce your savviest friends. Don’t be afraid to “go there” in your conversations—move beyond small talk and voice your opinions and ideas. When sizzling Mars ends its two-month retrograde on August 27 and speeds forward in Capricorn, there will be no holding you back!

Love & Romance

Time to set some love #goals, Capricorn? On August 6, Venus pings into Libra and your tenth house of career and long-range planning for the first of two trips this year. You may get suddenly serious about the future, both in terms of your profession and your relationship. If you’re in one, you might find yourself initiating conversations that begin with, “So, I’ve been thinking about our holiday plans,” or “Next summer, I’d really like to…” Single? Stay open to people you meet at work or industry events. As long as you’re not breaking company policy, consider them fair game.

Keep in mind: Venus will be retrograde for its second trek through Libra, which is from October 31 to November 16. New relationships may hit a speed bump, or issues that you’re working on might take a sideways turn. Here’s where that famous Capricorn patience will come in very handy! An office romance could sour when Venus makes its U-turn later this year, so be very sure you’re both mature adults who will handle things with civility if things don’t work out.

With Mercury retrograde in Leo and your erotic eighth house until August 19, you might be tempted to hook up with an ex or go down a clandestine rabbit hole that’s a clear dead end. What do you really want out of this? Be sure you can answer that before you get entangled emotionally or sexually. For couples, this could be a powerful time to work through a thorny issue, perhaps with a therapist or healer to mediate. Money matters could be a source of tension, but the hidden blessing is that you’ll actually start talking about them—and all the embedded feelings of pain, shame or old baggage that might be underlying those power struggles. If you’re splitting up, you might need to have a painful conversation about how to divide up the shared property.

An especially potent day for building security and having a serious talk about the long term comes on August 7, when cosmic lovebirds Venus and Mars form a rare, harmonious trine (120-degree angle). Attached? Do something luxe and upscale to celebrate your couplehood. Singles should raise your standards and keep the bar high. Skip the local dive bar and go somewhere you have to dress up. That alone could help you meet a successful someone who’s got their life together.

But careful where you cast your charms. Mars is retrograde from June 26 to August 27. It’s been back-pedaling through Aquarius and your zone of career and money, which may have ramped up work stress that cut into your relationship or given you a few waves of anxious insecurity. On August 12, it will back into Capricorn for the duration of the retrograde, which could leave you feeling intensely self-conscious. During this signal-scrambling transit, your message might be lost in translation. Rather than assume everyone knows what you’re saying, make a point of being simple and precise. As a backup, get assurances that people heard you loud and clear.

Key Dates

August 9: Venus-Saturn Square Second thoughts? Cautious Saturn slams the brakes on dreamy Venus, who might be getting a little carried away with romantic pipe dreams or plans for the future. Make sure you both want the same things for the long haul before you start picking baby names or china patterns.

Money & Career

Balance those books, Capricorn. This is one of your annual “money months,” as the Sun visits Leo and your eighth house of property, long-term wealth and shared assets. With an August 11 Leo solar eclipse shaking up business as usual, you might start looking at your personal financial model through a new lens over the next six months. An exciting opportunity to multiply your moolah could arrive unexpectedly—and you’ll need to adapt fast! Keep a keen eye on every transaction while Mercury is retrograde in Leo from July 26 to August 19, which can cause technological glitches, erroneous charges (read those monthly bank statements) and risks to sensitive data.

Another reason not to rush into anything? Hasty Mars is spinning backward for nearly the whole month, which could cause you to miscalculate. Mars has been retrograde in Aquarius and your money house since June 26, which may have heaped on some financial stress. While Mars won’t straighten out until August 27, it WILL leave your money sector on August 12, which could lift some of the tension around work, bills and budgets. Stressful assignments, unexpected expenses and demanding clients may have left you hustling through the summer, and at the same time, colleagues’ tempers could have been short.

You’ll be happy to see Mars go, but unfortunately it will back into YOUR sign for the duration of its retrograde, from August 12 to 27, joining structured Saturn and power-tripping Pluto, which are both retrograde in Capricorn. Whew! If you have any vacation days, take them now. Otherwise, keep a very low profile and work behind the scenes. This is an excellent time to finish a project you started a while back. But hold off on any splashy launches until next month if you can—when Saturn straightens out on September 6, your ideas will have velocity AND staying power.

Key Dates

August 10: Mercury-Jupiter Square When supersizer Jupiter flashes its high beams at a retrograde Mercury, you or someone you work closely with may present an outsized dream but not have any idea how to pull it off. Nip it in the bud before you waste precious time, money or other resources trying to develop this. If anything, this is a good day to revisit an idea and see how much you can scale it BACK.

Love Days: 4, 9 Money Days: 15, 24 Luck Days: 12, 22 Off Days: 6, 11, 19

#capricorn #monthly forecast #astrology #horoscope #horoscopes #capricorn monthly

33 notes · View notes