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bitchfitch · 3 years ago

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Conall woke to the smell of cinnamon and burning hair. His nose scrunched and his lips curled in a silent snarl he wasn't awake enough to suppress as he sat up in the bed he kept trying to escape.

His every bone protested as he stood, and his muscles shook, with the aftermath of another full moon spent hunting through the woods like a common beast after being twisted into the shape of one by this stupid fucking curse. He managed to get his feet steady under him as he sought out the absolute bastard that kept dragging him back here.

Arlo was where he always was, sat in front of the vanity in one of the bedrooms with his fingers combing through his stupidly long hair. He huffed as a greeting, not even bothering to look at Conall as he picked at a few strands and started the work of braiding it all into a manageable length.

One of these days Conall was going to take a pair of shears to it all. Just to be cruel, just to stoop to Arlo's level.

"Why am I here," Conall demanded, "I left, I told you I had no interest in staying,"

"Yes well you see, I didn't bring you back here," Arlo retorted, "You crawled back all on your own, and collapsed on my doorstep like you do every damm month,"

"You know full well its your stupid curse that keeps brainwashing me back here," Conall stormed up to his side and was step away from grabbing him before that stupid curse twinged and forced any ideas of hurting the stupid unicorn out of his skull with a painful snap,

"It's not a curse, Its not My curse, and there's nothing to do about it that I Haven't already done,"

"I'm sorry, do you just expect me to believe you have nothing to do with the curse that makes me want to protect you? That turns me into a dog everytime you are at your most powerful? You Truly believe I'm that stupid?"

"I believe you're that stupid, because you can't see that that's the truth, I didn't give you this blessing, I didn't make it. I didn't even know it was still kicking around until I Saved your sister from it," he spat,

"Fucking Explain it then, Explain why you are such a fucking liar," Conall had to swallow down bile as Arlo's hurt bumped up against the stupid curse.

"Im Not A Liar. And it's a long fucking story," Arlo snapped at him,

"Then get fucking talking," Conall didn't care that he was scraping gouges in the wooden floor as he dragged a chair closer and dropped into it with a heavy huff.

Arlo rolled his eyes and sneered as he started, his tone that of someone telling a bed time story to a brat they didn't particularly like, "Once upon a time, there was a queen who ruled an expansive and beautiful kingdom. She was perfect, and regal, and swelteringly kind, and most of all she was devoted to making sure her people Thrived no matter the cost.

So, one day, she gathered her kingdoms most powerful sorcerers, calling them each by name as she beheaded them and drained them of every drop of blood they had to give before rending the meat from their bones so that those may be used too.

When she was done she poured it all into her cauldron, and preyed and chanted and sang as she cut her own heart from her chest and dropped it into her brew.

The blood boiled around this offering so willingly and lovingly given, and the magic found her soul and bound it back together as the first of her children rose from the pot with her mounted on his back.

He was a bull, white like the clouds above and as thick around the middle an entire chariot was wide, with golden hooves and single horn jutting from his forhead as he galloped and pranced with the reborn queen laughing on his back.

The second was a similarly single horned war horse, white and gold but smaller than the bull that came before him. Still, he was stunning as he joined the joyful parade with blood clinging to his coat.

The donkey was next, again with one horn growing from the center of his skull like a stake. Short and lean but powerful as he charged along with his brothers and their perfect mother.

Then the deer burst forth, his single horn forked as he bounded so proudly around the room, leaping and prancing over the ruined remains of their imperfect fathers and other mothers.

Finally a goat clambered out after them all, bleating and struggling to keep pace with his long legged family. He was the runt, the weakest, made from the dregs of the sorcerers' magic.

The queen saw her runt and opened her arms to him and carried him on his brother's back. None of her children would ever be forgotten, or allowed to be trampled as long as she was there to protect them.

The family, complete and beautiful and perfect burst from the chamber and into their palace, the joyful cries of the people echoing through the halls at the sight of their reborn queen. They screamed and screamed as they welcomed her children into their court by offering up a feast of a first meal for their hungry mouths.

The Queen's already prosperous land Flourished as though spring had finally hit after a year of winter. Her beloved and perfect and powerful children served their people with joy in their hearts. No one in the entire land ever went hungry, no field was ever blighted with rot, no wound left un-mended nor was even a single disease allowed to spread. The coffers were full and gold paved the streets, the water of their rivers and lakes ran crystal clear and sweet like honey.

The Perfect Queen and her Perfect children were worshiped by their people, but such beautiful perfection bred vile envy.

A vile and selfish little human crept into the children's rooms one night. A lasso in one hand and a dagger in the other as it hunted through the corridors, looking for which one it would steal away from its family.

But oh that silly little thing, weak and stupid as it was. It found the children curled up together with their mother watching over them.

The Queen cought it before it could even take a single step, her wings beat as she dragged it out the window with her, her claws digging into its soft body threatening to destroy it completely. But in her divine mercy, she lifted it higher and higher and higher, twisting and bending its imperfect shape into something even more grotesque.

She landed with it held in her arms and she called to her children, who of course always headed their mother's call.

She laid the creature at their feet and told them that it would protect them now, that it was their pet and that they should look after it, that they should love it so that it would love them.

That was the first werewolf, it stood guard over their rooms and when others like what it had been came close it would tear into them and spread its gift. They would turn too then, and join it in its guarding.

Though, the children only ever loved the first of their precious dogs. The rest were too much fun to not play with. So, long as at least one lived, they could do whatever they pleased with the others. So they did. They tore them apart and painted their rooms in their blood and takes their hides with their brains and the children made their mother necklaces and crowns and bracelets and rings and every other little bobble they could from those precious wolves' bones.

The children loved their mother, so of course they wanted to lavish her with every gift they could. She had already given them so much, it was only fair.

The perfect family and their perfect pets weren't allowed to be happy forever though. A man, A king, their mother told the children to call him that, came into their home and soon their mother was heavy with his imperfect children.

She assured her eldests that this was only a means to an end, that she needed an heir. Someone who would look after her perfect children when she was gone. She told them that while the children the king gave her would never be perfect, she would make them so. Just like she made herself perfect, just like she made all of them perfect, she would make these new lives perfect too.

To prove her devotion to the children born from the blood of her heart instead of the water of her womb, she gave the first of the king's imperfect offspring to them.

Oh how the king sobbed as they ripped it to shreds. Its awful little body not even worth being made into a gift for their mother.

The second was allowed to grow. Their mother would bring him to her perfect children every day and have each of them lay a blessing on him until he too was perfect.

Only then did they welcome him as a brother. Only then did they begin to follow his orders like they did their mother's.

Oh how foolish those perfect children were.

Death came for their mother one night, her blood stained the long dead king's son's hands.

Were he anyone else, they would have destroyed him just like they did that first child the king gave their mother. But their own blessings made him immune to their curses and their powerful bodies. Their mothers own blood protected him even when it hadn't protected her.

The Queen's perfect children cried and shrieked their mourning, and refused to lay their gifts on any of the cruel and selfish humans. It was their blood that ran in their littlest and most vile brother's veins, why should they serve any that would dare to share a history with him?

The new King did not have the patience for his perfect siblings. So he stole away their hounds and sent them to war, all but the one they loved, he killed that one in front of them and made them watch as it begged and suffered.

Then, when they continued to refuse to obey him, he took everything they had. He took their hair and their eyes and their horns, and the skin off of their flesh, then the flesh off of their bones and then he took those too. And he took until there was nothing left and those perfect siblings of his were gone,"

Arlo looked back to his mirror his shoulders tense and his hands shaking with ancient grief, "Then, one day many years later, when the Perfect Queen and her perfect children were only whispered myths, a pair of witches gathered all of their magic and the corpse of their beloved sister.

They went to the place that the Perfect Queen's castel had once stood and called on the fragments of her children, They pulled the goat, the weakest of his siblings from the aether and begged for him to revive their sister.

He looked at the humans, and saw only their selfish ways. But he could not return to his rest. No, they held him there and demanded he do what they asked. Said they would never let him go if he didn't. Said they would damn all of his brothers to that horrid… inbetweenness of not being fully alive and not fully dead while being all to aware of it.

So, he looked them in the eye and made them a deal, Their sister's heart would beat and her body would walk again, but they must never attempt to summon his brothers.

They were stupid, and agreed.

The goat took the dead sister's body as his. Her heart beat, and she walked and talked, but it was him who was in control.

He damned himself to this existence, knowing the witches had no way of killing him, nor did they have a way to summon his brothers while the body was being used.

Years passed again, now with the goat alone in the palace he had shared with his perfect family. Unable to leave because if he did some other ungrateful and selfish human might try to take from him again. They might not care about destroying the body he wore like the witches did, and if the body was destroyed, the witches might try to summon and damn his brothers.

So the goat lived in the buried castle and watched the world above through his mirror, and eventually he began talking to the witches, he was so dreadfully lonely that even their vile company held value.

Other horrid little humans would stumble close sometimes. He'd kill them on sight, Or curse them until their blood boiled in their veins, or he'd give them something that looked like a blessing just so they would lead more to him. It was the only fun he could have without risking his physical body being known.

But then the witches finally promised the goat a kindness. They told him that the wolves his mother had made for her perfect children still spread their blessings, but that with the unicorns dead and gone they had turned to vile beasts as they desperately searched for their charges.

The goats heart ached but then it soared when the witches told him that there was one being brought to him.

A little girl, they told him it was, a child so young that if he loved and cared for it it would grow up to love and care for him in return. He remembered the precious wolf he shared with his brothers and Gladly accepted the offer for them to let him care for it.

Offering them a loc of his hair and blood from his veins. He knew how to not be selfish, unlike the humans, he knew that you always offer something in return.

They took what he gave, but when they brought him his pup, she was in the arms of a strange man.

He collapsed onto his knees and begged for his sister to be cured tears staining his..."

Arlo hesitates, looking at Conall and picking his next words carefully,

"His face, that the goat had initially found repulsive but no longer minds. The goat was about to kill the awful and pathetic creature, about to take his precious pup to show her to the room the goat had put together just for her. But then the man's words registered.

He wasn't begging, he wasn't asking to take. He was offering everything he had for the goat to save his sister from a perceived suffering.

And the goat didn't see the witches making cruel demands and threats. He didn’t see that monster of a half brother demanding he and his perfect brothers work for the creature that killed their mother.

He saw himself, and he saw his perfect brothers, and their mother. He saw his family always looking out and protecting eachother.

The man asked for the goat to cure his sister of her blessing, and in return he would give everything he could.

The goat's heart broke. He wanted, truly wanted, to help a human for the first time since his mother's passing. But he couldn't do what the man asked. His mother was far more powerful, and even now centuries after her death and many many generations removed, her blessing still held stronger than the goat could ever hope to be able t overpower.

So he made the man, the pure and clever human who knew not to take without giving something in return, an offer.

The goat couldn't destroy the blessing, but if the man could offer up another to take his sister's place, the goat could transfer it to them."

Arlo looked back to his mirror, where he saw only Conall's reflection, as he finished the last braid, "I think you know the rest,"

A long moment passed as Conall tried to reconcile the story he was just told with the monster- no, the man, he sat across from.

"Were you really going to take care of Asena?" Conall asked, his voice low and quiet, as though speaking too loudly would break the careful peace between them,

"I was going to raise her as though she were my own. I was so excited to teach her magic, and to give her all the blessings I could... I guess the witches are doing that now though," He leaned forward against the worn wood of his vanity and rested his chin on his folded arms, "I was going to have a family again," he wiped at his eyes before the tears could spill,

"I'm sorry, Conall," he sighed

"Why?" Conall tried not to sound surprised at such a genuine sounding apology,

"I know those weren't the answers you wanted. I know you wanted me to tell you that it had all been a trick and I could just snap my fingers and cure you of my mother's blessing,"

"No, those weren't the answers I wanted but..." Conall didn't know what to say next, so he said nothing and just settled a hand on one of Arlo's thin shoulders. He squeezed it softly as he felt Arlo go rigid under his touch for just a moment before practically melting beneath his palm.

Conall had the sinking realization that this might very well be the first time anyone has touched Arlo since his entire family was killed.

Conall had the sinking realization that the same might be true for himself.

"Please," Arlo whimpered burrying his face in the crook of his arm, "Please, I don't want you to feel trapped here, but please stay, I'll offer whatever I can, but Conall please stop leaving me alone here,"

"I..." he tried to swallow down the words before they could damn them both, but he was so much weaker than The Perfect Queen's blessing,

"Of course,"

#arlo being arlo #cannibalism cw #violence cw #gore cw #body horror cw #child death cw #paternal death cw #ask to tag i guess

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babbushka · 4 years ago

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Please give us the story of emperor Kylo giving you your pet tiger!

(1.1k, mentions of animal abuse, murder, blood)

She’s no more than a cub, when you find her.

Kylo had taken you on vacation, down to Arkanis. One of the easiest ways to Arkanis was through Corellia, one of the larger landlocked kingdoms in your knowledge. It was a massive city, with tall housing structures which stretched into the sky, people packing the streets, carrying baskets and jugs to and fro. You’d never seen such a place, such an urban center of life. Where your beautiful Naboo boasted stunning views of the ocean, all that could be seen in Corellia was traffic, and people. So many people.

Kylo Ren’s father had been from Corellia, you know. You told him that you wouldn’t mind traveling on through the city without stopping, knowing how the reminder might hurt him so. But surprisingly, Kylo asks if you wouldn’t mind sparing the day here. He wanted to know what was so special about Corellian rum to make his father drown himself near to death in it.

It was there, in Corellia, when you stumble across her. So many people demanded many means of entertainment, and one such means is a circus of sorts. Traveling caravans set up underneath a large tent, lanterns glowing and flashing many different colors, catching your attention. Entranced, you and Kylo find a seat, aiming to blend in with the crowd and not disturb the proceedings.

That is, until, you realize what the proceedings entail.

At first, you are amazed by the acrobats as they toss themselves through the air, their garments shimmering and sparkling as they balance on wires high up in the sky. You are enthralled by the contortionists that fit themselves into boxes, play instruments with their feet as easily as one would with fingers. You are astounded by the strength of the performers as they swallow swords and breathe fire.

But then the animals are brought out from their cages, and your heart begins to break, as the beauty and amazement falls to the wayside. There are a great deal many animals, all with their own acts, and each making your heart grow sadder than the last. Elephants larger than you had ever seen, whipped into standing on overturned baskets, a chariot of horses whose ribs poke out far too prominently. And then, the showstopping conclusion, a team of tigers who are riled up with firecrackers and whips, forced to do tricks and are beaten when they fail.

It's too much for you to bear.

“Enough!” Kylo recognizes your distress and immediately stands, his booming voice demanding a halt to the festivities.

It is a flurry of action, all at once, as the secret guards which Kylo brought along with the two of you suddenly pour down from the rafters. Chaos, pandemonium, screaming people both in the circus troupe and the audience are everywhere as the guards begin capturing these abusers.

Kylo looks to you for guidance, and is thrilled to see bloodshed in your eyes.

“Kill them.” You say in Kylo’s ear, and he echoes the sentiment louder, you slipping out of his grasp as you run down the steps towards the stage, careful not to trip in the blood which now spills hot and thick.

You approach the animals with caution, with care, for they are frightened as you approach them. They have a lifetime of hurt and harm from hands which look like yours, so you hold your hands out to them in a nonthreatening way, lower your head for them, kneel on the ground at their mercy. On your hands and knees, forehead pressed to the floor, you bow your head and pray to the goddesses of wilderness and animals, ask for their help in freeing these creatures, in delivering swift punishment to those who should cheer at their pain.

They must have heard you, the goddesses, for when you lift your head, it is the animals which now bow. The elephants, the horses, donkeys and camels all taking one knee in respect to you, the birds lower their heads and do not flutter their wings, and as you blink slowly to show your respect for them, so do the tigers.

“You are free to go wherever you might wish,” You speak to them, not knowing if they can understand you at all, not knowing if they know what you’ve done for them. “If you stay here, you will surely be captured again.”

“They’re listening to you.” Kylo whispers, approaches you cautiously. The animals do not move, but he does not risk going any closer.

“Kylo what shall we do, we cannot risk future harm.” You are nearly in tears with the way there are healed scars on their sides, in their flesh.

“Tell them they are welcome to live at the palace, on the grounds. They will be sacred, they will not be harmed.” Kylo says, and the animals turn their gaze towards him.

“They hear you too.” You whisper in amazement, with a smile.

And then, as if in response, one young tiger steps forward from the rest. Her mane is dull and her blue eyes are cloudy, and you wish more than anything that you had something to offer her. She does not ask for offerings though, instead, she circles around you and Kylo, getting a good look at you. You do not fear her eating you, for she would have done so already were she in the mood. No, instead when she completes her circle, she lays on the ground before you, head resting atop crossed paws.

You step closer to the tiger, place your hand on her large forehead, and ever so carefully, pet back the short striped fur.

“I shall name you Goliath, so that you will grow up to be big and strong, and your teeth will grow long and sharp, and you shall never want for anything.” You whisper to her, to them all, to the goddesses who shine favorably down upon you.

Goliath’s eyes close, and her spotted ears fold back, and this seems to be some sort of signal, for all at once there is a cacophony of noise – the rest of the tigers roar loud from their chests, the elephants blare their trumpets, the horses and donkeys neigh, the birds squawk.

And now, many years later, your promise to your dear friend has come true. Goliath’s fur is thick and glossy, she wears a collar, not a chain, made of gold and precious stones. She shreds apart the men which harm others the way men have harmed her.

She follows you about and protects you from everything, from anything that could pose a threat. She swims in the pools with her tiger family and all the animals live in harmony at the palace, all of them having made the decision to journey away from Corellia to Naboo.

Sometimes your heart aches for the pain she suffered through, but when she lays on her back and growls softly until you rub her stomach, you know that she – or any of the others for that matter – shall never suffer again.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren/reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren/you #emperor kylo au #our hill of stars #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren fluff #kylo ren angst #ancient emperor au #Anonymous #cowboy answers

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dfroza · 1 year ago

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yes, God is a God of peace and Yeshua is the Prince of Peace

And God is pure Love

but God is also perfectly Just and although much grace has been extended, much mercy and forgiveness and the hope for change (rebirth) in the hearts of people, yet there is still much evil and injustice in the world and it will be done away with.

our heavenly King (Yeshua the Messiah) is returning to set things right, to put an end to the world war. to restore order and pure truth to earth.

even though evil may have its day, for a short period of time, yet at some point it will be fully cleansed. sadly, a counterfeit messiah will be welcomed before eyes are opened to see the One who first came, entering Jerusalem seated on a humble donkey about 2,000 years ago, leaving for Heaven to return as rightful King of earth:

Rejoice with all your heart, daughter of Tziyon!

Shout out loud, daughter of Yerushalayim!

Look! Your king is coming to you.

He is righteous, and he is victorious.

Yet he is humble — he’s riding on a donkey,

yes, on a lowly donkey’s colt.

I will banish chariots from Efrayim

and war-horses from Yerushalayim.”

The warrior’s bow will be banished,

and he will proclaim peace to the nations.

He will rule from sea to sea,

and from the [Euphrates] River to the ends of the earth.

The Book of Zechariah, Chapter 9:9-10 (Complete Jewish Bible)

those reborn in Light who are not Jewish in natural bloodline become as spiritual Jews (ingrafted into the same living Vine of Yeshua who was born of the Jews in King David’s birth city of Bethlehem)

the significance of Israel will always be, since the Creator of the heavens and the earth is the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob

and so we’ve seen much hate toward the Jews over so much time, including persecution against believers in Yeshua (Jesus) as the Spirit has been forming the Church Body of the Lord

And surely, we are in a war, yet a spiritual war. not a war against people (flesh and blood) although it is through people that evil is expressed in the world. but our weapon as children of Light is to walk in Love and grace, and much patience. wrongs may be done against us, but we leave such recompense in God’s capable Hands

but we are to stand our ground with bravery, sharing truth even though some oppose. the world is full of lies and illusions that lead people astray.

and so, yes, this means that other religions and forms of spirituality apart from the truth of the Son are as counterfeits. whether it is Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism, etc. none of these will lead a person into the truth as the sole path to our heavenly Father that is only illuminated in Yeshua (in Hebrew His name means “Salvation”)

As shared by Paul in an ancient Letter:

“For though we walk in the world, we do not fight according to this world’s rules of warfare. The weapons of the war we’re fighting are not of this world but are powered by God and effective at tearing down the strongholds erected against His truth. We are demolishing arguments and ideas, every high-and-mighty philosophy that pits itself against the knowledge of the one true God. We are taking prisoners of every thought, every emotion, and subduing them into obedience to the Anointed One.”

The Letter of 2nd Corinthians, Chapter 10:3-5 (The Voice)

Autumn leaves in Thursday morning snow

day 7 of november, here & now in ‘19

(around the corner of Edgewood avenue on Wolverine drive)

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ffej16 · 4 years ago

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THEinc-HIM Daily Bible Meditation - February 20 - Full Text - Shabbat Shalom

FEBRUARY 20

PSALMS: 20, 50, 80, 110, 140

PROVERBS: 20

OLD TESTAMENT: 1 SAMUEL 12:1 - 13:23

NEW TESTAMENT: JOHN 7:1 - 30

PSALMS: 20

1 May the LORD answer you in the day of trouble.

May the name of the God of Ya`akov set you up on high,

2 Send you help from the sanctuary,

Grant you support from Tziyon,

3 Remember all your offerings,

And accept your burnt-sacrifice. Selah.

4 May He grant you your heart's desire,

And fulfill all your counsel.

5 We will triumph in your yeshu`ah.

In the name of our God we will set up our banners:

The LORD fulfill all your petitions.

6 Now I know that the LORD saves his anointed.

He will answer him from his holy heaven,

With the saving strength of his right hand.

7 Some trust in chariots, and some in horses,

But we trust the name of the LORD our God.

8 They are bowed down and fallen,

But we rise up, and stand upright.

9 Save, LORD;

Let the King answer us when we call!

PSALMS: 50

1 The Mighty One, God, the LORD, speaks,

And calls the eretz from sunrise to sunset.

2 Out of Tziyon, the perfection of beauty,

God shines forth.

3 Our God comes, and does not keep silent.

A fire devours before him.

It is very tempestuous around him.

4 He calls to the heavens above,

To the eretz, that he may judge his people:

5 "Gather my holy ones together to me,

Those who have made a covenant with me by sacrifice."

6 The heavens shall declare his righteousness,

For God himself is judge.

Selah.

7 "Hear, my people, and I will speak;

Yisra'el, and I will testify against you.

I am God, your God.

8 I don't rebuke you for your sacrifices.

Your burnt offerings are continually before me.

9 I have no need for a bull from your stall,

Nor male goats from your pens.

10 For every animal of the forest is mine,

And the cattle on a thousand hills.

11 I know all the birds of the mountains.

The wild animals of the field are mine.

12 If I were hungry, I would not tell you,

For the world is mine, and all that is in it.

13 Will I eat the flesh of bulls,

Or drink the blood of goats?

14 Offer to God the sacrifice of thanksgiving.

Pay your vows to Ha`Elyon.

15 Call on me in the day of trouble.

I will deliver you, and you will honor me."

16 But to the wicked God says,

"What right do you have to declare my statutes,

That you have taken my covenant on your lips,

17 Seeing you hate instruction,

And throw my words behind you?

18 When you saw a thief, you consented with him,

And have participated with adulterers.

19 "You give your mouth to evil.

You harnesses your tongue for deceit.

20 You sit and speak against your brother.

You slander your own mother's son.

21 You have done these things, and I kept silent.

You thought that the "I AM" was just like you.

I will rebuke you, and accuse you in front of your eyes.

22 "Now consider this, you who forget God,

Lest I tear you into pieces, and there be none to deliver.

23 Whoever offers the sacrifice of thanksgiving glorifies me,

And prepares his way so that I will show God's salvation to him."

PSALMS: 80

1 Hear us, Shepherd of Yisra'el,

You who lead Yosef like a flock,

You who sit above the Keruvim, shine forth.

2 Before Efrayim and Binyamin and Menashsheh,

stir up your might,

Come to save us.

3 Turn us again, God.

Cause your face to shine,

And we will be saved.

4 LORD God Tzva'ot,

How long will you be angry against the prayer of your people?

5 You have fed them with the bread of tears,

And given them tears to drink in large measure.

6 You make us a source of contention to our neighbors.

Our enemies laugh among themselves.

7 Turn us again,

God Tzva'ot.

Cause your face to shine,

And we will be saved.

8 You brought a vine out of Mitzrayim.

You drove out the nations, and planted it.

9 You cleared the ground for it.

It took deep root, and filled the land.

10 The mountains were covered with its shadow.

Its boughs were like God's cedars.

11 It sent out its branches to the sea,

Its shoots to the River.

12 Why have you broken down its walls,

So that all those who pass by the way pluck it?

13 The boar out of the wood ravages it.

The wild animals of the field feed on it.

14 Turn again, we beg you, God Tzva'ot.

Look down from heaven, and see, and visit this vine,

15 The stock which your right hand planted,

The branch that you made strong for yourself.

16 It is burned with fire. It is cut down.

They perish at your rebuke.

17 Let your hand be on the man of your right hand,

On the son of man whom you made strong for yourself.

18 So we will not turn away from you.

Revive us, and we will call on your name.

19 Turn us again, LORD God Tzva'ot.

Cause your face to shine, and we will be saved.

PSALMS: 110

1 The LORD says to my Lord, "Sit at my right hand,

Until I make your enemies your footstool for your feet."

2 The LORD will send forth the rod of your strength out of Tziyon.

Rule in the midst of your enemies.

3 Your people offer themselves willingly in the day of your power,

In holy array.

Out of the womb of the morning, you have the dew of your youth.

4 The LORD has sworn, and will not change his mind:

"You are a Kohen forever in the order of Malki-Tzedek."

5 The Lord is at your right hand.

He will crush kings in the day of his wrath.

6 He will judge among the nations.

He will heap up dead bodies.

He will crush the ruler of the whole eretz.

7 He will drink of the brook in the way;

Therefore will he lift up his head.

PSALMS: 140

1 Deliver me, LORD, from the evil man.

Preserve me from the violent man;

2 Those who devise mischief in their hearts.

They continually gather themselves together for war.

3 They have sharpened their tongues like a serpent.

Viper's poison is under their lips.

Selah.

4 LORD, keep me from the hands of the wicked.

Preserve me from the violent men:

Who have determined to trip my feet.

5 The proud have hidden a snare for me,

They have spread the cords of a net by the path.

They have set traps for me.

Selah.

6 I said to the LORD,

"You are my God.

" Listen to the cry of my petitions, LORD.

7 LORD, the Lord, the strength of my yeshu`ah,

You have covered my head in the day of battle.

8 LORD, don't grant the desires of the wicked.

Don't let their evil plans succeed, or they will become proud. Selah.

9 As for the head of those who surround me,

Let the mischief of their own lips cover them.

10 Let burning coals fall on them.

Let them be thrown into the fire,

Into miry pits, from where they never rise.

11 An evil speaker won't be established in the eretz.

Evil will hunt the violent man to overthrow him.

12 I know that the LORD will maintain the cause of the afflicted,

And justice for the needy.

13 Surely the righteous will give thanks to your name.

The upright will dwell in your presence.

PROVERBS: 20

1 Wine is a mocker, and beer is a brawler;

Whoever is let astray by them is not wise.

2 The terror of a king is like the roaring of a lion:

He who provokes him to anger forfeits his own life.

3 It is an honor for a man to keep aloof from strife;

But every fool will be quarreling.

4 The sluggard will not plow by reason of the winter;

Therefore he shall beg in harvest, and have nothing.

5 Counsel in the heart of man is like deep water;

But a man of understanding will draw it out.

6 Many men claim to be men of unfailing love,

But who can find a faithful man?

7 A righteous man who walks in his integrity,

Blessed are his children after him.

8 A king who sits on the throne of judgment

Scatters away all evil with his eyes.

9 Who can say, "I have made my heart pure.

I am clean and without sin?"

10 Differing weights and differing measures,

Both of them alike are an abomination to the LORD.

11 Even a child makes himself known by his doings,

Whether his work is pure, and whether it is right.

12 The hearing ear, and the seeing eye,

The LORD has made even both of them.

13 Don't love sleep, lest you come to poverty;

Open your eyes, and you shall be satisfied with bread.

14 "It's no good, it's no good," says the buyer;

But when he is gone his way, then he boasts.

15 There is gold and abundance of rubies;

But the lips of knowledge are a rare jewel.

16 Take the garment of one who puts up collateral for a stranger;

And hold him in pledge for a wayward woman.

17 Fraudulent food is sweet to a man,

But afterwards his mouth is filled with gravel.

18 Plans are established by advice;

By wise guidance you wage war!

19 He who goes about as a tale-bearer reveals secrets;

Therefore don't keep company with him who opens wide his lips.

20 Whoever curses his father or his mother,

His lamp shall be put out in blackness of darkness.

21 An inheritance quickly gained at the beginning,

Won't be blessed in the end.

22 Don't say,

"I will pay back evil."

Wait for the LORD, and he will save you.

23 The LORD detests differing weights,

And dishonest scales are not pleasing.

24 A man's steps are from the LORD;

How then can man understand his way?

25 It is a snare to a man make a rash dedication,

And later reconsider his vows.

26 A wise king winnows out the wicked,

And drives the threshing wheel over them.

27 The spirit of man is the LORD's lamp,

Searching all his innermost parts.

28 Love and faithfulness keep the king safe.

His throne is sustained by love.

29 The glory of young men is their strength.

The splendor of old men is their gray hair.

30 Wounding blows cleanse away evil,

And beatings purge the innermost parts.

OLD TESTAMENT: 1 SAMUEL 12:1 - 13:23

12:1 Shemu'el said to all Yisra'el, Behold, I have listened to your voice in all that you said to me, and have made a king over you. 2 Now, behold, the king walks before you; and I am old and gray-headed; and, behold, my sons are with you: and I have walked before you from my youth to this day. 3 Here I am: witness against me before the LORD, and before his anointed: whose ox have I taken? or whose donkey have I taken? or whom have I defrauded? whom have I oppressed? or of whose hand have I taken a ransom to blind my eyes therewith? and I will restore it you. 4 They said, You have not defrauded us, nor oppressed us, neither have you taken anything of any man's hand. 5 He said to them, the LORD is witness against you, and his anointed is witness this day, that you have not found anything in my hand. They said, He is witness. 6 Shemu'el said to the people, It is the LORD who appointed Moshe and Aharon, and that brought your fathers up out of the land of Mitzrayim. 7 Now therefore stand still, that I may plead with you before the LORD concerning all the righteous acts of the LORD, which he did to you and to your fathers. 8 When Ya`akov was come into Mitzrayim, and your fathers cried to the LORD, then the LORD sent Moshe and Aharon, who brought forth your fathers out of Mitzrayim, and made them to dwell in this place. 9 But they forgot the LORD their God; and he sold them into the hand of Sisera, captain of the host of Hatzor, and into the hand of the Pelishtim, and into the hand of the king of Mo'av; and they fought against them. 10 They cried to the LORD, and said, We have sinned, because we have forsaken the LORD, and have served the Ba`alim and the `Ashtarot: but now deliver us out of the hand of our enemies, and we will serve you. 11 The LORD sent Yerubba`al, and Bedan, and Yiftach, and Shemu'el, and delivered you out of the hand of your enemies on every side; and you lived in safety.

12 When you saw that Nachash the king of the children of `Ammon came against you, you said to me, No, but a king shall reign over us; when the LORD your God was your king. 13 Now therefore see the king whom you have chosen, and whom you have asked for: and, behold, the LORD has set a king over you. 14 If you will fear the LORD, and serve him, and listen to his voice, and not rebel against the mitzvah of the LORD, and both you and also the king who reigns over you are followers of the LORD your God, [well]: 15 but if you will not listen to the voice of the LORD, but rebel against the mitzvah of the LORD, then will the hand of the LORD be against you, as it was against your fathers. 16 Now therefore stand still and see this great thing, which the LORD will do before your eyes. 17 Isn't it wheat harvest today? I will call to the LORD, that he may send thunder and rain; and you shall know and see that your wickedness is great, which you have done in the sight of the LORD, in asking you a king. 18 So Shemu'el called to the LORD; and the LORD sent thunder and rain that day: and all the people greatly feared the LORD and Shemu'el. 19 All the people said to Shemu'el, Pray for your servants to the LORD your God, that we not die; for we have added to all our sins [this] evil, to ask us a king. 20 Shemu'el said to the people, "Don't be afraid; you have indeed done all this evil; yet don't turn aside from following the LORD, but serve the LORD with all your heart: 21 and don't turn aside; for [then would you go] after vain things which can't profit nor deliver, for they are vain. 22 For the LORD will not forsake his people for his great name's sake, because it has pleased the LORD to make you a people to himself. 23 Moreover as for me, far be it from me that I should sin against the LORD in ceasing to pray for you: but I will instruct you in the good and the right way. 24 Only fear the LORD, and serve him in truth with all your heart; for consider how great things he has done for you. 25 But if you shall still do wickedly, you shall be consumed, both you and your king."

13:1 Sha'ul was [forty] years old when he began to reign; and when he had reigned two years over Yisra'el, 2 Sha'ul chose him three thousand men of Yisra'el, whereof two thousand were with Sha'ul in Mikhmash and in the Mount of Beit-El, and one thousand were with Yonatan in Gevah of Binyamin: and the rest of the people he sent every man to his tent. 3 Yonatan struck the garrison of the Pelishtim that was in Geva: and the Pelishtim heard of it. Sha'ul blew the shofar throughout all the land, saying, Let the Hebrews hear. 4 All Yisra'el heard say that Sha'ul had struck the garrison of the Pelishtim, and also that Yisra'el was had in abomination with the Pelishtim. The people were gathered together after Sha'ul to Gilgal. 5 The Pelishtim assembled themselves together to fight with Yisra'el, thirty thousand chariots, and six thousand horsemen, and people as the sand which is on the sea-shore in multitude: and they came up, and encamped in Mikhmash, eastward of Beit-Aven. 6 When the men of Yisra'el saw that they were in a strait (for the people were distressed), then the people did hide themselves in caves, and in thickets, and in rocks, and in coverts, and in pits. 7 Now some of the Hebrews had gone over the Yarden to the land of Gad and Gil`ad; but as for Sha'ul, he was yet in Gilgal, and all the people followed him trembling. 8 He stayed seven days, according to the set time that Shemu'el [had appointed]: but Shemu'el didn't come to Gilgal; and the people were scattered from him. 9Sha'ul said, Bring here the burnt offering to me, and the peace-offerings. He offered the burnt offering.10 It came to pass that as soon as he had made an end of offering the burnt offering, behold, Shemu'el came; and Sha'ul went out to meet him, that he might greet him. 11 Shemu'el said, What have you done? Sha'ul said, Because I saw that the people were scattered from me, and that you didn't come within the days appointed, and that the Pelishtim assembled themselves together at Mikhmash; 12 therefore said I, Now will the Pelishtim come down on me to Gilgal, and I haven't entreated the favor of the LORD: I forced myself therefore, and offered the burnt offering. 13 Shemu'el said to Sha'ul, You have done foolishly; you have not kept the mitzvah of the LORD your God, which he commanded you: for now would the LORD have established your kingdom on Yisra'el forever. 14 But now your kingdom shall not continue: the LORD has sought him a man after his own heart, and the LORD has appointed him to be prince over his people, because you have not kept that which the LORD commanded you. 15 Shemu'el arose, and got him up from Gilgal to Gevah of Binyamin. Sha'ul numbered the people who were present with him, about six hundred men. 16 Sha'ul, and Yonatan his son, and the people who were present with them, abode in Geva of Binyamin: but the Pelishtim encamped in Mikhmash. 17 The spoilers came out of the camp of the Pelishtim in three companies: one company turned to the way that leads to Ofrat, to the land of Shual; 18 and another company turned the way to Beit-Horon; and another company turned the way of the border that looks down on the valley of Tzevo`im toward the wilderness. 19 Now there was no smith found throughout all Eretz-Yisra'el; for the Pelishtim said, Lest the Hebrews make them swords or spears: 20 but all the Yisra'elites went down to the Pelishtim, to sharpen every man his plowshare, mattock, ax, and sickle; 21 yet they had a file for the mattocks, and for the plowshares, and for the forks, and for the axes, and to set the goads. 22 So it came to pass in the day of battle, that there was neither sword nor spear found in the hand of any of the people who were with Sha'ul and Yonatan: but with Sha'ul and with Yonatan his son was there found. 23 The garrison of the Pelishtim went out to the pass of Mikhmash.

NEW TESTAMENT: JOHN 7:1 - 30

7:1 After these things, Yeshua walked in the Galil, for he would not walk in Yehudah, because the Yehudim sought to kill him.

2 Now the feast of the Yehudim, the Feast of Sukkot, was at hand.

3 His brothers therefore said to him, "Depart from here, and go into Yehudah, that your talmidim also may see your works which you do.

4 For no one does anything in secret, and himself seeks to be known openly. If you do these things, reveal yourself to the world."

5 For even his brothers didn't believe in him.

6 Yeshua therefore said to them, "My time has not yet come, but your time is always ready.

7 The world can't hate you, but it hates me, because I testify about it, that its works are evil.

8 You go up to the feast. I am not yet going up to this feast, because my time is not yet fulfilled."

9 Having said these things to them, he stayed in the Galil.

10 But when his brothers had gone up to the feast, then he also went up, not publicly, but as it were in secret.

11 The Yehudim therefore sought him at the feast, and said, "Where is he?"

12 There was much murmuring among the multitudes concerning him. Some said, "He is a good man." Others said, "Not so, but he leads the multitude astray."

13Yet no one spoke openly of him for fear of the Yehudim.

14 But when it was now the midst of the feast, Yeshua went up into the temple and taught.

15 The Yehudim therefore marveled, saying, "How does this man know letters, having never been educated?"

16 Yeshua therefore answered them, "My teaching is not mine, but his who sent me.

17 If anyone desires to do his will, he will know of the teaching, whether it is from God, or if I speak from myself.

18 He who speaks from himself seeks his own glory, but he who seeks the glory of him who sent him, the same is true, and no unrighteousness is in him.

19 Didn't Moshe give you the law, and yet none of you keeps the law? Why do you seek to kill me?"

20 The multitude answered, "You have a demon! Who seeks to kill you?"

21 Yeshua answered them, "I did one work, and you all marvel because of it.

22 Moshe has given you circumcision (not that it is of Moshe, but of the fathers), and on the Shabbat you circumcise a boy.

23 If a boy receives circumcision on the Shabbat, that the law of Moshe may not be broken, are you angry with me, because I made a man every bit whole on the Shabbat?

24 Don't judge according to appearance, but judge righteous judgment."

25 Some therefore of them of Yerushalayim said, "Isn't this he whom they seek to kill?

26 Behold, he speaks openly, and they say nothing to him. Can it be that the rulers indeed know that this is truly the Messiah?

27 However we know where this man comes from, but when the Messiah comes, no one will know where he comes from."

28 Yeshua therefore cried out in the temple, teaching and saying, "You both know me, and know where I am from. I have not come of myself, but he who sent me is true, whom you don't know.

29 I know him, because I am from him, and he sent me."

30 They sought therefore to take him; but no one laid a hand on him, because his hour had not yet come.

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korkisobsessions · 4 years ago

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The Oath

IX. Prisoner

Hi guys...sooo here we are with another chapter. There is some Yeongshin flashback...and there will be another in future. Buuuut I´m sometimes little chaotic so i decide to make one special chapter that will be as a bonus in my masterlist. I will be editing it everytime I update chapter with flashback and there will be all flashbacks chronological lined up :) So if you will be confused were in timeline to put “this” or “that”, this bonus chapter will help you. :)

If thats OK :)

It was long time ago. He was younger, almost kid. His arms were weaker, aim unsteady and heart wild. His chakho burn mark still too fresh and sore.

Woods were dreadfully calm. He had bad feelings in his stomach. They were called to hunt down tiger that slaughter almost hundred of men. It always end badly when mundane villagers were trying to do their job. They were making weird traps and shooting everything that moves, including their neighbours.

“Be careful kid. He can be anywhere.” His master was right behind him. It was old skinny man with ugly thick scar over half of his face, crossing his eye. Yeongshin hated that eye. It was milky white and blind, but he always felt like it can see to his soul.

“It’s male?” he whispered, eyes still searching his surroundings.

“Yes, they said so. Don’t worry, no cubs.”

He felt little relief. He hated killing young animals. He always did it, because if he didn’t, there will come a day when younglings grow up and rip his throat. But he hated it.

One time he let pups go and other chakhos beat him. That day it was his first punishment and he thought he will die. Everything hurts so badly he cried later like little kid. At first from pain, later because of shame. And it was just the beginning. He sooner realised that being chakho is hard life.

He was making step by step, carefully, not to step on twig or tripped over rock, his rifle ready.

And then he saw it. There it was. Tiger was laying on the ground, but something was wrong. He lowered his rifle.

“What are you doing, kid?”Byung-Chul whispered, his only eye watching Yeongshin’s slow movements.

Yeongshin was approaching tiger and part of him felt pain. Animal had paw trapped in some string trap made by villagers. Wire was cut deep in it’s flesh, it almost cut the foot of.

He was disgusted. No one ever deserved such fate. To die slowly in trap.

Poor animal was still alive, weak and desperate. It looked him in the eyes and that look wrote deep in his brain. It was pleading for death.

“Do it, kid. End his suffering.”

He pulled out knife and cut tiger’s throat. He didn’t want to shoot him. This was calm and dignified death.

“This traps are...” his master spit on the ground.

“Byung-Chul?” Yeongshin’s heart was clenched by ice cold fist of fear, when he examined dead body of animal. “This is female.”

And then he saw him, running towards them, too late to grab his rifle. Big and strong tiger. He looked like rage itself.

Yeongshin only heard his master shout and one single shot when tigers body collide with his. His breath was pressed out of his lungs, he cannot even focus on pain. He felt tiger’s hot breath on his face and his loud growl filled his ears he thought he will become def. All he can do was grip tighter his knife, slippery from blood and stab animal to his neck. There was no time to think, where to stab. He must just take a chance. He fell to the ground on his back, with cracking of bones and tiger’s heavy body on him.

He must’ve lost consciousness, because when he woke up, Byung-Chul was pulling him out from underneath death body of Tiger.

“Are you alive?”

He can only whimper. He felt like all bones in his body were crushed.

“You lucky bastard!” Byung-Chul’s voice sounds like from distance. “But it got you pretty badly. We must find help, or you will bleed out.”

He was just lying on the forest bed watching sky and pieces of clouds, his body light. He lifted his head and saw three deep cuts from his left collarbone to right hip.

“I think…I’m dying.” He whispered weakly to his master. He was in shock he don’t even felt the pain.

“You wish...”Byung-Chul slap him to his face and got him back. “Tiger almost ripped off my head fifteen years ago . They said my brain was visible. And see? Here I’m, saving your sorry ass.” He pressed bandages to his chest and wave on someone, probably other chakhos. “Then they told me I will loose my eye, and see?”

“But your eye...”He breath little calmer, but dark shadows were still dancing on edges of his vision. He was still one foot in grave.

“yeah, I see horse shit, but I still got my eye. We are living against all odds Yeongshin, so you will make it. We will sell tigers heads down in village and buy you some meds.

“You called me...” he was too weak to finished sentence.

Byung-Chul smiled. “You killed two tigers with almost bare hands. I can’t call you ‘kid’ anymore.”

And then darkness swallowed him. But he survived.

His arrive to Sangju was different than he thought. At first he didn’t expect to see this place again.

In the past he always felt hatred to this town. He never forget what he lost for it’s survival. His life was torn to pieces so Sangju can survive and prosper.

And now he was there with some kind of peace in his heart. All the people who were responsible for the horrors were dead. And he knew that at least Lord Ahn felt remorse for what he has done.

And send him Nilah.

Here he stands behind gates of Sangju to get her back, no matter what.

He didn’t bother to visit captain of guards, he knew that Sang-Ho will find him sooner or later. He just wanted to find Nilah and get her out as fast as he could.

Yeongshin made his way to prison. There was just one guard

“I’m here with order to release prisoner.” He gave the man letter from minister of Hanyang.

“You came for Nilah?” Guard was looking at him suspiciously.

“Yes. Unlock her cell.” He didn’t want to be inpatient, to make something wrong. But his heart was beating so fast, that guard must heard it.

Men grab keys and walk him through dungeons.

And than he saw her. It was much worse than he expected. She was siting in the corner of small dark cell. She had knees pressed to her chest and head down. Her dirty shirt had ripped off sleeves so he can saw how skinny she was. Bones of her shoulders were visible under her pale skin. She didn’t even lifted her head when guard opened her cell.

Yeongshin didn’t wait and hurried inside.

“Nilah.” He whispered with pain in his voice. He wanted to touch her but he was scared he will hurt her.

She jerked when heard his voice and lift her face.

He remembered forever that look in the eyes of trapped tiger, waiting for death. Nilah looked same.

Her eyes were empty, almost like dead, skin pale and bruised. She had busted lip and bruised eye.

She furrow her brow with disbelief.

“Yeongshin?” she sounded weak and her voice was cracked like she was screaming before.

“I will lift you up and carry you out. Don’t worry.” He lifted her carefully, still controlling her face. She was light like little kid. Her body was just skin and bones. “It will be good. You are free now.” He whispered to her, gently holding her against his chest. She put her hands around his neck and quietly cried.

She jerked in his arms when he bring her back to sunlight and hid her face to crook of his neck. He carefully sat her down on small cart that he buy with young stupid donkey. That stubborn animal was still fighting with him on their way here, but now he stood like statue, like he knew gravity of situation.

Nilah was avoiding his eye contact until he released her from his hold. She grab his hand and coldness of her words scared him.

“I’m ready. Can I die with sword in my hand, please? It’s part of my religion.” Tears were running down her face and he was too confused. He wanted to hold her, kiss her and she was talking about dying?

“Nilah...” He gently touch her chin and lifted her head.

But she burs in tears, hid her face in her palms, shoulders shaking with sobs.

“He told me everything Yeongshin! What they have done to you and your family. And I served them! I thought that Lord Ahn wants me to protect you because you are maybe his bastard son, but It was because he slaughter your family and your village and felt bad because of it! I didn’t know that! You must hate me!”

“Nilah, please stop.” He finally hug her. He buried his face to her hair and held her tight against his chest. “How could I hate you?”

He wanted to tell her everything. How he missed her all that time. How he love her...

“It took you longer then I expected.” Cold voice of Sang-Ho interrupted his intentions. He was walking slowly with evil smile on his face. “She is my prisoner. Will you be so kind and take her back to her cell?”

Yeongshin felt how Nilah started to shaking. Her eyes were full of pure fear.

“She is free now. I have order from Hanyang. She was pardoned by royal commander division.” Yeongshin throw letter to Sang-Ho’s feat. All he wanted was killed that man for what he’s done to Nilah.

“You want to fight me chakho?” he was provoking him.

“No, don’t...” Nilah held his forearm in tight grip. “He is sneaky bastard, he didn’t fight fair.”

Yeongshin smiled at her and touch her face. She was real and safe with him. No one can take her away from him. No more. She was pleading him with her eyes not to fight. And he was ready to leave Sangju without spilling single drop of blood. But...

“Yeah, I thought so. Just take that worthless pagan bitch and leave.” Sang-Ho spat on the ground with disgust.

It was enough. He could insulted him. He could spit on him, despise him for what he is, for what he was...But he never let anyone to insult Nilah. He felt his heart hammering in his chest with anger.

“You shouldn’t said that” he growl.

Sang-Ho smiled with triumph. He took of his sword and passed it to one of guards. “Don’t worry, without consequences. You have my word.”

Yeongshin laugh with bitterness. “Your word mean nothing to me.”

“Yeongshin please don’t fight him...” Nilah plead again. He turned to her and finally done what he should do long time before. Gently laid palm on her cheek and kissed her, silencing all her words. She froze with surprise and closed her eyes. All he wanted was to have this moment forever. Her warm and soft lips on his. He could die in that fight, but he didn’t want to die without at least one kiss.

“Don’t worry.” He whispered and smiled at her. She still looked astonished from what just happened. But her pale cheeks was little blushed.

Nilah remembered her brother’s lessons about self defence. How she always had to protect her vulnerable parts, like head or chest.

“Always keep your hands up. Cover yourself!” he shouted at her while beating her. She still tasted blood, while she was desperately covering her head.

It was her brother´s first and most important rule. And now she was watching Yeongshin walking towards Sang-Ho with his hands down. He was fool or brave.

Sang-Ho smiled and made swipe to him. But Yeongshin moved to the side so fast that Sang-Ho lost his balance and stumbled forward. Chakho’s fist found It’s place in commander’s stomach. Sang-Ho grunted from the impact and with surprise. He didn’t expected such a strength from his opponent. He turned quickly and punched Yeongshin to face. Blood burst from his nose but he looked like he didn’t even noticed. He threw himself on Sang-Ho and both of them fell to the ground tangled together.

Yeongshin hooked his arm around Sang-Ho’s neck and hold him tightly. Captain were panting for breath and his face was red.

“You will let us go!” he growled to Sang-Ho’s ear. “If you ever just think about her, I will find you and gut you like pig. Do you understand? “

He released his grip to let him take a breath. But Sang-Ho just laughed.

“You wouldn’t believe how warm she is between her legs.”

Yeongshin was terrified. It was like hard punch and bucket of ice water. His heart missed few beats. He knows that Sang-Ho weren’t lying. He saw that broken look in Nilah’s eyes.

He lift his head to look at her. She was sitting on the cart, hand covering her mouth and eyes full of tears.

He really wanted to killed Sang-Ho. Cut his throat, rip his heart out and bring it to her feet. But he can’t do it. No matter what he said...if he kill captain of Sangju guards, it would be death sentence for him and for her too.

He didn’t noticed dagger flying towards him. He jerked away but too late. Sango got him pretty badly just under his collar bone. It was deep and nasty gash. But he didn’t feel the pain. Not from that wound. He caught Sang-Ho’s hand with dagger and coldly broke it over his knee. Captain screamed and collapsed on the ground while Yeongshin stood up. He kicked weeping man to his stomach and spat on the ground.

He felt rivulets of blood running from his fresh wound down his chest. He covered it with his palm, it hurts and he needed to stop bleeding.

“If I ever see you again, it will be your neck what will be broken.”

He made his way to Nilah. She was pale and shaking. “You are hurt!” she touched his shoulder and carefully examined the wound.

He caught her hand and kissed her to her palm. “We must leave.”

Yeongshin covered her with his overcoat and lead donkey out of the gates of Sangju.

#kingdom #kingdom netflix #kingdom 2019 #kingdom2019 #yeong shin #yeongshin #chakho

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pengychan · 6 years ago

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[Coco] Nuestra Iglesia, Pt. 1

Title: Nuestra Iglesia Summary: Fake Priest AU. In the midst of the Mexican Revolution, Santa Cecilia is still a relatively safe place; all a young orphan named Miguel has to worry about is how to get novices Héctor and Imelda to switch their religious vows for wedding vows before it's too late. He's not having much success until he finds an unlikely ally in their new parish priest, who just arrived from out of town. Fine, so Padre Ernesto is a really odd priest. He's probably not even a real priest, and the army-issued pistol he carries is more than slightly worrying. But he agrees that Héctor and Imelda would be wasted on religious life, and Miguel will take all the help he can get. It's either the best idea he's ever had, or the worst. Characters: Miguel Rivera, Ernesto de la Cruz, Héctor Rivera, Imelda Rivera, Chicharrón, Óscar and Felipe Rivera, OCs. Imector. Rating: T

[Tag with all chapters up here.]

[Also on Ao3]

A/N: @senoraluna and I had this idea a while back and of course I couldn’t resist writing it. This is gonna be a lot more light-hearted than my usual stuff. Most of the time. Can’t promise regular updates, but will do my best! (This first chapter is... a bit grim. But it will be mostly humor, I promise!)

***

Mexico, March 1914

Ernesto smelled the bodies before he saw them, hanging from the highest branches of a half-dried tree, swaying just barely despite the complete lack of wind.

They probably hadn’t been there for too long, but their corpses were already swelling in the heat, and carrion birds were having a go at their faces. He would have very happily avoided approaching at all, but it was the only tree as far as eye could see, hanging men or not; both him and Dante needed shade and rest, and to eat something.

His horse was beginning to falter, and it was a bad sign: if he died on him now, he’d be screwed. He wouldn’t be able to get very far on foot, not in that heat. They’d rest, he’d have the last of his salt beef, and Dante would make do by grazing at the shrubs.

“Come on, amigo. We’re almost there,” Ernesto said, not really knowing where there even was other than ‘anywhere but here’, and led his horse towards the tree. The bodies hanging from it had belonged to army men; they wore the same uniform Ernesto had worn until a few days earlier, when his thoughts on the mess those past few years had been had condensed into one big ‘fuck it all’.

He was twenty-five, had been drafted into the army the previous year, and he’d had it with all of it. Huerta could burn in hell; he’d only ever wanted to hold a guitar, to play and sing before crowds - not to hold a rifle and fight someone else’s damn war.

So he’d shot the man he’d been sent out on patrol with in the back-- we drank together, laughed and joked called each other amigo, but killing him was so easy --before tearing the army jacket off himself and turning his horse down south, galloping away as though he had the devil at his heels. In a way, he did; as a deserter, he now had plenty of devils after him. He needed to find someplace safe to hide until that nonsense was over with.

… And speaking of nonsense, there was a third body beneath that tree - not hanging, but tied to its trunk and entirely motionless. The man’s head was tilted against the tree, skin and balding head burned by the sun, eyes shut and mouth slightly agape. He wore civilian clothing, but there was no mistaking the white collar on his neck - a priest.

Not too surprising, really. There were people in both factions who were fed up with the Catholic church, and amidst violence no bystander was safe. Ernesto wasn’t fond on priests himself, truth be told, but he sort of drew a line at tying them up to a tree and leaving them to die slowly. He hoped the poor bastard hadn’t taken too long to--

A groan caused Ernesto to recoil, and Dante to rear back. Under Ernesto’s gaze, the priest turned his head to look at him with clouded eyes. “Agua,” he rasped. “Por favor.”

Oh, Christ, he was still alive. Ernesto quickly tied Dante to a low branch and, avoiding to step beneath the corpses, quickly went to the priest. He absently noted, a little distance away, a suitcase discarded on the ground, the prints of a donkey and tracks of wheels. The revolutionaries had hung the soldiers, tied up the priest, and left with the cart he must have been riding on, discarding whatever they didn’t need to take.

“It’s all right, Padre,” Ernesto said, knowing full well nothing was all right. He could tell the man wasn’t going to survive and, either way, Dante couldn’t carry them both; he would have to leave him there. Maybe ending him there and then would be the kindest thing to do, but even so he found himself reaching for his knife to cut down the ropes first; the man slumped forward and Ernesto caught him, leaning him down across the ground in a shaded spot.

“Not you lucky day, was it?”

The priest looked up at him, saying nothing, licking blistered lips with a dry tongue. Ernesto took the water flask from his belt, lifted the man’s head with a hand, and put the flask to his lips. He’d expected him to drink greedily and had been prepared to pull back the flask - had to save water - but the man only took a few gulps before turning his head to look up at him.

“God bless you, son,” he rasped.

“Gracias. Could use a blessing,” Ernesto muttered, putting the flask away, and looked up towards the hanging corpses. “What happened here?”

“I was… I was travelling. Santa Cecilia. Their parish priest… Padre Edmundo died. I was sent to replace him, and… and I came across....” he swallowed, and his eyes turned to the bodies hanging above them. His features twisted in anguish. “I only asked to be allowed… to give them the last rites, before… everyone should have… the last rites…”

What a stupid, stupid, stupid idea. Years of fighting had made men bloodthirsty, and standing between them and enemies to hang was asking for trouble. Revolutionaries had done this, but Ernesto knew plenty of army men would have done the same. He’d seen a church being burned to the ground over the rumor that a priest aided rebels. “It was a bad call, Padre.”

“It was… my duty.”

And you’re dying for it, Ernesto thought, but didn’t say as much. “How far is Santa Cecilia?” he asked instead. “My horse cannot carry us both, but if it’s close enough to find help--”

“No, son. It is… it is south from here, a two days’ ride,” the man managed, and Ernesto nodded grimly. That meant that he wouldn’t be able to get him help before four days at the earliest, and there was no chance he could hold on that long. He could perhaps find help sooner if he rode back the way he’d come, but it was far too dangerous.

He could never go back; forward was the only way. He needed someplace to hide... and Santa Cecilia’s parish was expecting a new priest. Ernesto’s gaze turned to the open suitcase on the ground, and to the black cassock and white collar he could see hanging out of it. The cassock should be about his size; maybe just a bit too large, but it’d do.

“I don’t think I can help you, Padre,” Ernesto said slowly, causing the man to shake his head.

“You can. You have a gun.”

So, that was how it had to be. It would be an act of mercy, he supposed: a quick death as opposed to letting him die slowly in the heat, with the smell of rotting flesh in his nostrils and carrion birds circling him. He was doomed either way, so may as well take the least painful route. If there was a god anywhere, he’d understand. Ernesto nodded, and took out his gun.

“Do you have any last words, or…?” he asked, his voice not as firm as he’d have liked. He’d shot so many people, and from close range as well; he’d ended more wounded men than he wished to recall, but it didn’t mean he liked it. Plenty of men had acquired a taste for blood those years; Ernesto de la Cruz was not among them. He was just trying to live through it, to see better days when he could leave behind rifles and gunpowder for his guitar, and music.

It was all he wanted, and he’d do whatever it took to survive until then.

The priest smiled weakly. “Let me say my last prayer,” he whispered, and shut his eyes. “Padre nuestro que estás en los cielos… santificado sea tu nombre. Venga... tu reino….”

Ernesto cocked his gun, his mouth dry, trying not to think what would become of his body once he left, leaving it easy prey of carrion birds and coyotes. He had no tools to bury him, the earth was too dry and parched to dig with his hands, and he needed to save strength. He’d let himself and Dante rest until dusk, and then set off to the south.

“Tuyos son el reino... el poder y la gloria... por los siglos de los siglos,” the priest choked out, and let out a long breath, screwing his eyes shut. “Amén,” he whispered, nodding slightly, and it was the last thing he’d ever say.

A shot rang out, and that was it. The birds that had been pecking at the hanging men’s eyes flew away, but not very far; they would come back to their feast as soon as Ernesto left.

Scavengers always came back.

***

“Héctor? Do you think the new priest is going to be nice?”

“I’m sure he will be, chamaco.”

“I still think you should be our new priest.”

Héctor chuckled, leaning more comfortably against the tree and strumming his guitar softly. “I’m a novice, Miguel. Still a few months to go before I can take the vows.”

Sitting cross-legged across him, Miguel shrugged. He was holding a guitar he’d borrowed from Chicharrón, the old gravedigger. A whole lot of grumbling had ensued, but he could never refuse Miguel anything in the end… like he could never say no to Héctor when he was his age and would sneak out of the orphanage to visit, begging him to teach him how to play.

Old Cheech was grumpy, but he’d always had a soft spot for scrappy, music-loving orphans.

“But you said mass and everything!” Miguel was saying, copying the movement of Héctor’s fingers on the strings. Héctor suspected he’d taken on the role of altar boy mostly to spend time with him, and he had no complaints. He liked the kid. “And you were really good.”

“Gracias,” Héctor laughed. “But I only said mass because there was no other option. Padre Edmundo’s… our new parish priest will be here soon,” Héctor pointed out, keeping himself from using the word ‘replacement’, and trying to ignore a pang of pain in his chest.

The elderly priest’s demise had been sudden, but not unexpected; he’d been getting on with the years. Still, his loss had stung; he’d been almost a father to Héctor, a gentle and patient guide. He could only hope to be the same to Miguel, now, even if he wasn’t much older than him. He’d been only twelve when the chamaco had been found swaddled in a box on the church’s steps nine years earlier, with a note reading only his name.

“How soon?”

“One of these days, chamaco.”

“Do you think he’ll still let me be the altar boy?”

“I can’t see why not.”

“True. I’m good at it, aren’t I?”

“Sure you are.”

“And Imelda is so beautiful.”

“Of course she i-- wha-- Miguel!”

Miguel threw up his arms with a grito of triumph. “You said it! I heard you! No take-backs!”

“That is-- I didn’t--” Héctor sputtered, knowing full well his ears were probably turning crimson at that point. And his entire face, too. He could never hide embarrassment well.

“You always look at her when she sings with the choir,” Miguel pointed out, sounding far too satisfied with himself. “I’ve been watching. It’s like you’re playing the organ just for her.”

“I do not-- that was inappropriate! She’s going to take the vows next year and so am I!”

The boy grinned. “But you haven’t yet! If you change your mind--”

“Miguel,” Héctor said, warningly, but of course he was ignored like every single time he tried and failed to sound stern. To be fair, his voice cracking didn’t really help.

“No, really! And she looked at you last Sunday, too! You can always ask, right? If she says--”

“Miguel,” Héctor repeated, and this time his voice stayed firm enough to make the boy trail off and, if his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him, actually look a smidge guilty. “She has a beautiful voice and I am happy when she sings in the choir, that is all. She’s about to take the veil, I am about to take my vows, and it is what we both want. End of discussion. Claro?”

“Claro,” Miguel mumbled, sounding suitably chastised, and Héctor turned his attention back to the music - doing his utmost not to think of Imelda’s voice, of the tilt of her chin and the stride of her step, and entirely missing the skeptical look Miguel was giving him.

***

“Oh, look at that. Your secret admirer. And I use the term secret loosely.”

Walking down the street with the basket of groceries at her hip, Imelda needed every ounce of her willpower not to roll her eyes. It wouldn’t be respectful, by all accounts, for a novice to roll her eyes at a full-fledged bride of Christ.

If only Sister Sofía didn’t keep making it so damn difficult.

“It is such a baseless rumor, I am surprised you give it any credit at all,” she said, pointedly avoiding to look towards the plaza where novice Héctor was talking with a group of children, and laughing with them. He was good with children; he would make a good priest, one day.

“Oh, please. You know me,” Sister Sofía quipped. “You’re not surprised at all.”

“There was never any inappropriate behaviour from either of us.”

“I am aware. Sadly.”

“Sofía.”

“There should be a ‘sister’ somewhere in there.”

Imelda sighed. “Sometimes I wonder why you even took the veil.”

“Same as you - didn’t fancy the idea of marriage and suddenly got the calling when my parents began to look around on my behalf. Funny, how timing works,” she said, and shrugged. “The choice is limited, let’s be honest. Novice Héctor, though…”

“He’s going to be a priest soon. It’s what he’s wanted since he was a boy.”

“Or just what he’s been told over and over he should do with his life by our sisters at the orphanage. You end up believing everything if it’s repeated to you often enough. For example, Sister Antonia keeps insisting that it doesn’t count if it’s with another woman.”

That got a chuckle out of Imelda, almost against her own will. She opened her mouth to retort, but before she should two voices reached her at the same time, almost identical and yet so, so easy for her to tell apart.

“Oye, Imelda!”

“Hermana!”

“Have you seen Miguel?” Her brothers, tall for their thirteen years and with identical pairs of spectacles, skidded to a halt a few steps from them, talking fast.

“We were building him a guitar all of his own!”

“A custom guitar!”

“But we need to take a few measures!”

“He’s not with Héctor, he’s not at the church…”

“They won’t let us into the orphanage or even tell us if he’s in.”

“Nuns are no fun,” Felipe huffed.

“No offense,” Óscar added, getting a roll of the eyes from Imelda and a laugh out of Sofía.

“Oh, nuns can be more fun than you can imagine,” she said with a serene smile, entirely ignoring Imelda’s elbow against her side. Sofía’s mouth would get her in trouble someday. One way or another. “He could he be at the cemetery with Chicharrón.”

That caused both boys to make a face. “Old Cheech chased us out last time,” Óscar said.

“With a stick,” Felipe echoed.

“But if we plan out the route…”

“... And if we’re fast…”

“... After all, he has a peg leg…”

“Right, let’s do this!”

“See you later, hermana!” Óscar called out, and with that they were off to the cemetery, looking for Miguel.

***

Last night’s storm had had turned the stream into a proper river, or so it seemed to Miguel.

It was sunny now, not a cloud in the sky - the storm had been sudden and quick throwing down bucketfuls of water in a short time - and the sun beat down on his head as he hopped from rock to rock across the fast-flowing water, trying to imagine he was crossing Río Bravo, or Culiacán.

One day he might, but he had to wait for the Revolution to end. Santa Cecilia had been spared the worst of it, but things got really bad in other places; Miguel knew it because from time to time a new kid would arrive at the orphanage from out of town, and a lot of them had lost their parents because of it. A few months ago soldiers had come there, too, taken some men for the leva, and left; Miguel still remembered how the nuns had hidden away all the orphans who’d be considered old enough to hold a gun and fight.

Miguel had feared for Héctor, who’d been away at the seminary at the time, and seeing him coming back shortly afterwards had been a relief. Nothing had happened there since; Santa Cecilia was as safe as it could get. A bit too safe, sometimes. Boring. Hardly anything ever--

“Hola, niño. Is this the way to Santa Cecilia?”

A voice he didn’t know rang out suddenly, snapping him from his thoughts just as he jumped from one rock to the other. He turned, startled, and he turned too quickly: his bare foot slipped off the wet rock, the world seemed to tilt, and the next instant he was underwater.

For a moment she felt nothing but surprise, then annoyance. He hadn’t slipped like that since he was a little kid; if any of his friends were here, they’d be laughing their butts off. Miguel tried to kick himself back up to the surface… only to realize that the the stream there was a lot deeper than usual, and he couldn't reach the bottom. The current was much stronger, too, making him spin, and he no longer knew which way was up and which way was down, he couldn’t tell and he needed to breathe and--

No, no, no, no, no! Help me! Héctor! Someone!

Trying to keep panic at bay, Miguel flailed with his arms and tried to grab on something - a rock, a root, anything - and met nothing but water. Struggling to keep his eyes open, he tried to kick the bottom of the torrent to push himself upward - but one of his feet barely touched a rock and immediately slipped off it, and the movement only made him sink even deeper.

Miguel opened his mouth to cry out and suddenly water was in his mouth, in his nose, down his throat. His chest seized, his vision darkened, and panic flooded him.

No this can’t be it cannot be it’s little more than a trickle I can’t be drowning here I can’t--

Something grasped the back of his shirt, and there was a pull. Next thing he knew, sunlight was back on his face and there was earth beneath his knees, someone was patting his back and water was cascading out of his mouth. Miguel coughed, drew in a convulsive breath, and coughed some more. He was cold, nose and throat burning, but he was alive.

“Rayos, I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you all right, niño?”

Still coughing, Miguel nodded and looked up, blinking water out of his eyes. The man who had pulled him out was young, maybe his his twenties, wearing soaking wet black shirt and trousers… and a white collar. Miguel coughed again before speaking. “Sí, gracias. I... Are you… are you our new priest?” he asked, taken aback. He’d been expecting another old man, like Padre Edmundo. That guy was barely older than Héctor.

The man’s worried look melted into a smile, a flash of white in his black beard, and Miguel couldn’t help smiling back. “In the flesh,” he said with a laugh, and stood, helping him up. Miguel half-expected him to praise God for the fact he was all right, but he did not. “I’m Er-- Padre Ernesto. And you are…?”

“Miguel,” he replied, standing a bit shakily. “I’m the altar boy at the church. I, uh… I wasn’t supposed to play here all on my own,” he muttered, and gave his best smile. “Can you not tell the sisters I was here? And Héctor especially. He’s the novice at the parish. He’d get really worried. Like he didn’t sneak off here when he was my age, too.”

He half-expected a scolding - Padre Edmundo would have berated him, if mildly, telling him that lying was a sin against God and that omission does count as lying - but, instead, Padre Ernesto grinned back. “Won’t tell if you don’t,” he said, winking. “But then I think we should wait to dry up before we head to town. I don’t think telling them that a cloud rained on us and on us only would work. Believe me, I tried that once. My mamá didn’t buy it.”

All right, so he wasn’t like Padre Edmundo at all - and he wasn’t even telling him not to do it again or anything like that. Miguel already liked him, and he was sure Héctor would too.

“Oh, I’ll get dry fast,” he said, wringing a bit of his shirt in is hand and getting a small rivulet of water out of it. “It’s going to be hot today. But your clothes could take a bit longer.”

“Not a problem. I’ll tell them I rode across the stream before I met you.”

“You rode-- oh, is that your horse?” Miguel exclaimed when he spotted a movement on their left. It was a beautiful animal, its coat such a light gray it was almost white, and it was drinking from the stream in steady gulps.

“This is Dante. We’ve been through a few things together,” Padre Ernesto said, giving an affectional pat to the animal’s side.

Miguel grinned before trying to find out how far he could push his luck. “Can I ride him?”

“That sounds like something I’d need your parents’ permission for.”

“I don’t have any parents,” Miguel pointed out, and Padre Ernesto’s expression sombered for a moment before he shrugged.

“... Ah, no permission required then. Never cared to ask for it, either,” he said, and swung up on the saddle - it was such a graceful movement, nothing like Padre Edmundo climbing on his old donkey - before holding a hand out to Miguel. “Care to guide me to the parish, then?”

Miguel grinned, and held back a grito of victory as he grabbed that hand and climbed on the horse. He held tightly on the mane, but with Padre Ernesto’s arms on either side of him, he already knew he wouldn’t fall off. “It’s that way, there is a bridge just half a mile down this path,” he said. “Once you cross it, you just go straight on. It’s not far.”

“Oh, good. Dante and I could use some rest,” Padre Ernesto muttered, guiding the horse down the path. He let go of the reins with one hand, and looking up Miguel could see he was rubbing at the thick black beard that covered his cheeks. “I could use a shave, too.”

“How long have you been travelling?”

“A while, niño. A while. I met… a few problems on the way,” Padre Ernesto said, his voice sounding far away, and Miguel could guess they had something to do with the Revolution.

“You’re from Oaxaca, right? Héctor said you’d be sent from la arquidiócesis de Antequera.”

“Huh? Oh yes. Of course.”

“What is la Nuestra Señora de la Asunción like?”

“The-- oh. Right. It’s. Nice. I guess.”

“Have you ever said mass there?”

“Not personally. But tell me about Santa Cecilia,” Padre Ernesto added quickly. “I seems like a quiet place,” he added, and Miguel shrugged.

“It is. Sometimes too quiet. A bit boring,” he said, not noticing the smile on the man’s face.

“Oh, that won’t be a problem,” Padre Ernesto said. “I could use some boredom for a while.”

Later on, they would both think back about those words and laugh themselves into hysteria.

#pixar coco #Miguel Rivera #Ernesto de la Cruz #Hector Rivera #Imelda Rivera #coco #fake priest au

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true-halloween-tales · 6 years ago

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2018: #7-MONSTERS ON THE LOOSE 8: MONSTERS NEVER ON THE LOOSE

Monsters on the Loose has previously examined unexplained sightings of cryptids, possible animals that have escaped classification. Sometimes there are real sightings of unknown beasties. The rational explanation for those sightings, such as often with chupacabra sightings, is that known animals were spotted who may appear different due to mutation or disease, often having mange. However, many sightings are clearly – if not blatantly – faked. Recovered remains of cryptids have historically been often a creative combination of dead animal parts. That was the fossil game in the early 1900’s. Piece together bones incorrectly and create a monster, then charge admission to see it! As a Boy Scout, it was common for there to be Snipe Hunts (see 2016: #13-SUMMER CAMP). New Boy Scouts, especially first time campers, would be led out to search for those dangerous snipes, completely non-existent creatures. This time the cryptids that shall be focused upon are those that we know never existed, monsters that have never been on the loose. What is simply amazing is that people really believed they existed.

There sure are a lot of fakes, including for dragons (see 2018: #3-DRAGONS). In 1696, Cornelius Meyer claimed to have found the skeleton of a dragon responsible for flooding Rome. An analysis of a sketch of this skeleton indicates that the skull belonged to a dog, the mandible from a second dog, the ribs from a fat fish, the vertebrae from a beaver, and the limbs from a bear. The wings, tail, beak, and horn were handmade. No kitchen sink was apparently included. But there were remnants of “dragon skin,” a tarp-like material used to hide the false connections of the various animal parts. In 1845, Dr. Albert Koch went on tour across the U.S with his huge, one-hundred and fourteen foot long dragon skeleton... and it was really a curious conglomeration of five whale skeletons. Not surprisingly, to this day there are still claims of people finding dragon skeletons – mostly in China. These dragon remains turn out to be fossils or fakes. But there are many non-dragon fossil fakes too…

The Fiji mermaid was first put on display in 1842 by P.T. Barnum in his museum in New York. Shortly later, a merman was found in Banff, Alberta, and was displayed at the Indian Trading Post. There are still locations, such as museums, across the world today with supposed dead merman and mermaids on display. Their bodies are invariably carved out of wood and may be combined with fishy and monkey bodily bits. The Booth Museum in Brighton, England has one such display. Another famous fossil fake was 1912’s Piltdown Man. Charles Dawson claimed the Piltdown Man he found was the Missing Link. The fossil turned out to be an ape’s jawbone that Dawson bleached and weathered before “discovering” it. In 1868 New York, George Hull charged people to see the Cardiff Giant he claimed he found (see image below and see 2016: #5-GIANTS). It was ten feet tall, and Hull had it carved out of gypsum before “discovering” it. The checklist of counterfeit cryptids just keeps on going! But there were some honest mistakes made...

Lack of knowledge is a valid reason why some monsters were incorrectly identified. The 1100’s Latin Book of Beasts is bursting with booboos! Creatures that really existed were rather misunderstood. Ibis – birds – were believed to consume corpses when they were not busily occupied cleaning out their bowels with their beaks. Jaculus were flying snakes who somehow turned into javelins and tossed themselves as weapons at those below them. Syrens were white winged snakes from Arabia that flew faster than horses; their venom killed so fast that their victims never felt their bite. The Seps was a snake that had acid poison which completely dissolved your body and bones. The Salamandar was immune to fire and was highly poisonous. The Cocoddryllus from the River Nile are basically crocodiles except they are thirty feet long and have skin as strong as stone.

Several nonexistent beasts were thought to exist. Griffins were widely believed to exist, quadruped eagle beasts. The Bonnacon from Asia reportedly had the head of a bull and the body of a horse. The Monoceros had a four foot horn, a horrible howl, a horse-like body, but the feet of an elephant and the tail of a stag… and later became known as the unicorn. The Leucrotta is from India and is the fastest animal, the size of a donkey, with stag legs, lion body, and a horse head. The Cerastes were snakes with horns of rams. And the list goes on and on. Therefore, the top three need to be identified, of monsters that were never on the loose.

Sirens were thought to be dangerous creatures that lured sailors to their deaths. They were believed to be a combination of birds and women, with feathers, scaly bird legs and feet. They may or may not have wings. They often play instruments such as harps or lyres. They used their enchanting voices and music to shipwreck passing vessels on the rocks. Then they tear apart the sailors and devour their bloody flesh. Greek mythology traced their lineage to either the primordial sea god, Phorcys, or the river god Achelous (see 2013: #2-MEDUSAS). Roman poets located the sirens on the small Sirenum Scopuli island chain. Sirens sang their songs on Odysseus who tied himself to the mast of his ship to resist their power in The Odyssey. Sirens are related to mermaids of the sea and harpies of the air. In fact, sirenia is a classification of aquatic, mammals that live in rivers and various waters. Over the centuries the image of the siren became less beastly and more beauty. Even Leonardo da Vinci believed in sirens and wrote, "The siren sings so sweetly that she lulls the mariners to sleep; then she climbs upon the ships and kills the sleeping mariners."

The phoenix dates back to Ancient Greece or Egypt. They were reported to have a five-hundred year lifespan. They symbolize renewal and the possibility of an afterlife. When the phoenix’s five-hundred year alarm clock goes off, it self-immolates and is regenerated, born again. Phoenix’s therefore have an association with fire and the sun. They are often depicted with clouds or seven rays of light beaming from them. Those rays of light are consistent with imagery for Helios, Greek mythology’s titan of the sun. However, the phoenix may have originated in Egypt from the long-legged bennu bird. Bennu was also believed to be a deity who had connections to the sun and rebirth. But there are versions of the phoenix all over the world in many countries, under so many names like the phoenix is an international spy (see 2017: #4-SPIES). In India the phoenix is known as garuda or gandaberunda, in Russia as the firebird, in Iran as simorgh, in Georgia as paskunji, in Saudi Arabia as anka, in Turkey as zümrüdü anka, in Japan as hō-ō, in China as fenghuang and zhu que, and in Tibet as me byi karmo. It is not surprising that in some ways the symbolism of the phoenix was absorbed into Christianity (see 2011: #6-HALLOWEEN AND RELIGION). The myth of the phoenix really has influenced many cultures and civilizations.

The manticore was reported to have the body of a lion, the tail and stinger of a scorpion, and a nasty head of a man with blazing red eyes and multiple rows of teeth. Manticores are similar to sphinxes but they are monstrous man-eaters known to eat people – bones and all. They were thought to originate from mantygers. Mantygers had the body of a tiger, the head of an old man – also rather nasty, with tusks like a boar and long spiral horns. Some exceedingly wise experts, who were most definitely nasty themselves, thought that the mantyger’s horns were similar to ox horns – and they had monkey feet. Other experts, the nastiest, realized that the mantyger was totally unrelated to the manticore. Manticores were thought to live in Iran and were called mardykhor or merthykhuwar. There are variations of manticores’ tail. It either appears as a large scorpion sting or as having shootable poisonous spines similar to porcupine quills. In Dante’s Inferno, Geryon is depicted as a manticore. Nowadays manticores are a popular monster in fantasy games.

Fantasy films are pretty much your best option for seeing anything close to sirines, the phoenix, or manticores: The Golden Voyage of Sinbad, Sinbad and the Eye of the Tiger, both Clash of the Titans films, Wrath of the Titans, etc. 1963’s Jason and the Argonauts featured harpies taunting a blind Patrick Troughton, Doctor Who #2 (see 2018: #2-GUIDE TO DOCTOR WHO). The Dark Shadows tv series included a human phoenix villainess in its first season, before Barnabus the vampire made his appearance (see 2016: #7-GUIDE TO DARK SHADOWS). There is even a 2005 film named, Manticore, about an eternal manticore waking up for big fun.

These creatures have never been on this Earth. They are fakes and mistakes. But who knows, maybe they will appear in the far future. Millions of years in the future, what strange creatures could walk across the surface of this planet? Maybe they are not monsters on the loose now, but they may be monsters on the loose one day (on Friday see 2018: #8-THE DYING EARTH)…

#true halloween tales #halloween #mythology #sirines #mermaids #phoenix #manticore #cryptid

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loveofyhwh · 6 years ago

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October 29: Jeremiah 21–22; 1 John 2:7–17; Psalm 109; Proverbs 26:27

New Post has been published on https://loveofyhwh.com/october-29-jeremiah-21-22-1-john-27-17-psalm-109-proverbs-2627/

October 29: Jeremiah 21–22; 1 John 2:7–17; Psalm 109; Proverbs 26:27

Old Testament:

Jeremiah 21–22

Jeremiah 21–22 (Listen)

Jerusalem Will Fall to Nebuchadnezzar

21 This is the word that came to Jeremiah from the LORD, when King Zedekiah sent to him Pashhur the son of Malchiah and Zephaniah the priest, the son of Maaseiah, saying, 2 “Inquire of the LORD for us, for NebuchadnezzarHebrew Nebuchadrezzar, an alternate spelling of Nebuchadnezzar (king of Babylon) occurring frequently from Jeremiah 21–52; this latter spelling is used throughout Jeremiah for consistency‘>1 king of Babylon is making war against us. Perhaps the LORD will deal with us according to all his wonderful deeds and will make him withdraw from us.”

3 Then Jeremiah said to them: “Thus you shall say to Zedekiah, 4 ‘Thus says the LORD, the God of Israel: Behold, I will turn back the weapons of war that are in your hands and with which you are fighting against the king of Babylon and against the Chaldeans who are besieging you outside the walls. And I will bring them together into the midst of this city. 5 I myself will fight against you with outstretched hand and strong arm, in anger and in fury and in great wrath. 6 And I will strike down the inhabitants of this city, both man and beast. They shall die of a great pestilence. 7 Afterward, declares the LORD, I will give Zedekiah king of Judah and his servants and the people in this city who survive the pestilence, sword, and famine into the hand of Nebuchadnezzar king of Babylon and into the hand of their enemies, into the hand of those who seek their lives. He shall strike them down with the edge of the sword. He shall not pity them or spare them or have compassion.’

8 “And to this people you shall say: ‘Thus says the LORD: Behold, I set before you the way of life and the way of death. 9 He who stays in this city shall die by the sword, by famine, and by pestilence, but he who goes out and surrenders to the Chaldeans who are besieging you shall live and shall have his life as a prize of war. 10 For I have set my face against this city for harm and not for good, declares the LORD: it shall be given into the hand of the king of Babylon, and he shall burn it with fire.’

Message to the House of David

11 “And to the house of the king of Judah say, ‘Hear the word of the LORD, 12 O house of David! Thus says the LORD:

“‘Execute justice in the morning, and deliver from the hand of the oppressor him who has been robbed, lest my wrath go forth like fire, and burn with none to quench it, because of your evil deeds.’” 13 “Behold, I am against you, O inhabitant of the valley, O rock of the plain, declares the LORD; you who say, ‘Who shall come down against us, or who shall enter our habitations?’ 14 I will punish you according to the fruit of your deeds, declares the LORD; I will kindle a fire in her forest, and it shall devour all that is around her.”

22 Thus says the LORD: “Go down to the house of the king of Judah and speak there this word, 2 and say, ‘Hear the word of the LORD, O king of Judah, who sits on the throne of David, you, and your servants, and your people who enter these gates. 3 Thus says the LORD: Do justice and righteousness, and deliver from the hand of the oppressor him who has been robbed. And do no wrong or violence to the resident alien, the fatherless, and the widow, nor shed innocent blood in this place. 4 For if you will indeed obey this word, then there shall enter the gates of this house kings who sit on the throne of David, riding in chariots and on horses, they and their servants and their people. 5 But if you will not obey these words, I swear by myself, declares the LORD, that this house shall become a desolation. 6 For thus says the LORD concerning the house of the king of Judah:

“‘You are like Gilead to me, like the summit of Lebanon, yet surely I will make you a desert, an uninhabited city.Hebrew cities‘>2 7 I will prepare destroyers against you, each with his weapons, and they shall cut down your choicest cedars and cast them into the fire.

8 “‘And many nations will pass by this city, and every man will say to his neighbor, “Why has the LORD dealt thus with this great city?” 9 And they will answer, “Because they have forsaken the covenant of the LORD their God and worshiped other gods and served them.”’”

10 Weep not for him who is dead, nor grieve for him, but weep bitterly for him who goes away, for he shall return no more to see his native land.

Message to the Sons of Josiah

11 For thus says the LORD concerning Shallum the son of Josiah, king of Judah, who reigned instead of Josiah his father, and who went away from this place: “He shall return here no more, 12 but in the place where they have carried him captive, there shall he die, and he shall never see this land again.”

13 “Woe to him who builds his house by unrighteousness, and his upper rooms by injustice, who makes his neighbor serve him for nothing and does not give him his wages, 14 who says, ‘I will build myself a great house with spacious upper rooms,’ who cuts out windows for it, paneling it with cedar and painting it with vermilion. 15 Do you think you are a king because you compete in cedar? Did not your father eat and drink and do justice and righteousness? Then it was well with him. 16 He judged the cause of the poor and needy; then it was well. Is not this to know me? declares the LORD. 17 But you have eyes and heart only for your dishonest gain, for shedding innocent blood, and for practicing oppression and violence.”

18 Therefore thus says the LORD concerning Jehoiakim the son of Josiah, king of Judah:

“They shall not lament for him, saying, ‘Ah, my brother!’ or ‘Ah, sister!’ They shall not lament for him, saying, ‘Ah, lord!’ or ‘Ah, his majesty!’ 19 With the burial of a donkey he shall be buried, dragged and dumped beyond the gates of Jerusalem.” 20 “Go up to Lebanon, and cry out, and lift up your voice in Bashan; cry out from Abarim, for all your lovers are destroyed. 21 I spoke to you in your prosperity, but you said, ‘I will not listen.’ This has been your way from your youth, that you have not obeyed my voice. 22 The wind shall shepherd all your shepherds, and your lovers shall go into captivity; then you will be ashamed and confounded because of all your evil. 23 O inhabitant of Lebanon, nested among the cedars, how you will be pitied when pangs come upon you, pain as of a woman in labor!”

24 “As I live, declares the LORD, though Coniah the son of Jehoiakim, king of Judah, were the signet ring on my right hand, yet I would tear you off 25 and give you into the hand of those who seek your life, into the hand of those of whom you are afraid, even into the hand of Nebuchadnezzar king of Babylon and into the hand of the Chaldeans. 26 I will hurl you and the mother who bore you into another country, where you were not born, and there you shall die. 27 But to the land to which they will long to return, there they shall not return.”

28 Is this man Coniah a despised, broken pot, a vessel no one cares for? Why are he and his children hurled and cast into a land that they do not know? 29 O land, land, land, hear the word of the LORD! 30 Thus says the LORD: “Write this man down as childless, a man who shall not succeed in his days, for none of his offspring shall succeed in sitting on the throne of David and ruling again in Judah.”

Footnotes

[1] 21:2 Hebrew Nebuchadrezzar, an alternate spelling of Nebuchadnezzar (king of Babylon) occurring frequently from Jeremiah 21–52; this latter spelling is used throughout Jeremiah for consistency [2] 22:6 Hebrew cities

(ESV)

New Testament:

1 John 2:7–17

1 John 2:7–17 (Listen)

The New Commandment

7 Beloved, I am writing you no new commandment, but an old commandment that you had from the beginning. The old commandment is the word that you have heard. 8 At the same time, it is a new commandment that I am writing to you, which is true in him and in you, becauseOr that‘>1 the darkness is passing away and the true light is already shining. 9 Whoever says he is in the light and hates his brother is still in darkness. 10 Whoever loves his brother abides in the light, and in himOr it‘>2 there is no cause for stumbling. 11 But whoever hates his brother is in the darkness and walks in the darkness, and does not know where he is going, because the darkness has blinded his eyes.

12 I am writing to you, little children, because your sins are forgiven for his name’s sake. 13 I am writing to you, fathers, because you know him who is from the beginning. I am writing to you, young men, because you have overcome the evil one. I write to you, children, because you know the Father. 14 I write to you, fathers, because you know him who is from the beginning. I write to you, young men, because you are strong, and the word of God abides in you, and you have overcome the evil one.

Do Not Love the World

15 Do not love the world or the things in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him. 16 For all that is in the world—the desires of the flesh and the desires of the eyes and pride of lifeOr pride in possessions‘>3—is not from the Father but is from the world. 17 And the world is passing away along with its desires, but whoever does the will of God abides forever.

Footnotes

[1] 2:8 Or that [2] 2:10 Or it [3] 2:16 Or pride in possessions

(ESV)

Psalm:

Psalm 109

Psalm 109 (Listen)

Help Me, O Lord My God

To the choirmaster. A Psalm of David.

109 Be not silent, O God of my praise! 2 For wicked and deceitful mouths are opened against me, speaking against me with lying tongues. 3 They encircle me with words of hate, and attack me without cause. 4 In return for my love they accuse me, but I give myself to prayer.Hebrew but I am prayer‘>1 5 So they reward me evil for good, and hatred for my love. 6 Appoint a wicked man against him; let an accuser stand at his right hand. 7 When he is tried, let him come forth guilty; let his prayer be counted as sin! 8 May his days be few; may another take his office! 9 May his children be fatherless and his wife a widow! 10 May his children wander about and beg, seeking food far from the ruins they inhabit! 11 May the creditor seize all that he has; may strangers plunder the fruits of his toil! 12 Let there be none to extend kindness to him, nor any to pity his fatherless children! 13 May his posterity be cut off; may his name be blotted out in the second generation! 14 May the iniquity of his fathers be remembered before the LORD, and let not the sin of his mother be blotted out! 15 Let them be before the LORD continually, that he may cut off the memory of them from the earth! 16 For he did not remember to show kindness, but pursued the poor and needy and the brokenhearted, to put them to death. 17 He loved to curse; let curses comeRevocalization; Masoretic Text curses have come‘>2 upon him! He did not delight in blessing; may it be farRevocalization; Masoretic Text it is far‘>3 from him! 18 He clothed himself with cursing as his coat; may it soakRevocalization; Masoretic Text it has soaked‘>4 into his body like water, like oil into his bones! 19 May it be like a garment that he wraps around him, like a belt that he puts on every day! 20 May this be the reward of my accusers from the LORD, of those who speak evil against my life! 21 But you, O GOD my Lord, deal on my behalf for your name’s sake; because your steadfast love is good, deliver me! 22 For I am poor and needy, and my heart is stricken within me. 23 I am gone like a shadow at evening; I am shaken off like a locust. 24 My knees are weak through fasting; my body has become gaunt, with no fat. 25 I am an object of scorn to my accusers; when they see me, they wag their heads. 26 Help me, O LORD my God! Save me according to your steadfast love! 27 Let them know that this is your hand; you, O LORD, have done it! 28 Let them curse, but you will bless! They arise and are put to shame, but your servant will be glad! 29 May my accusers be clothed with dishonor; may they be wrapped in their own shame as in a cloak! 30 With my mouth I will give great thanks to the LORD; I will praise him in the midst of the throng. 31 For he stands at the right hand of the needy one, to save him from those who condemn his soul to death.

Footnotes

[1] 109:4 Hebrew but I am prayer [2] 109:17 Revocalization; Masoretic Text curses have come [3] 109:17 Revocalization; Masoretic Text it is far [4] 109:18 Revocalization; Masoretic Text it has soaked

(ESV)

Proverb:

Proverbs 26:27

Proverbs 26:27 (Listen)

27 Whoever digs a pit will fall into it, and a stone will come back on him who starts it rolling.

(ESV)

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sunriseoverastorea · 6 years ago

Text

Kind Strangers

♬ Jeremy Soule - In the Forests of Tamriel

Morning dawns too early. The hard wooden floor aches against her festering burns, but she pushes herself up, breathing heavily from the effort, and blinks bleary, crusty eyes into the darkened room. The fire has gone out, completely extinguished, and the light from the windows adds little shape and form at this hour. Silence sits heavy in the cottage, weighing down the boughs of herbs hung from the ceiling, a basket heaped with clothing by the back door, her fallen apple from the night before where it sits beneath the table, forgotten, browning.

She listens for the sound of breathing. Instead, the rustle of grass answers her question.

Lurching to her feet, the shadowy room spins around her, and she nearly falls against the door as she rushes towards it, throwing it open and racing after her captives. Under normal circumstances, she could easily catch up—Maegan moves swiftly despite her hefty skirts, perhaps twenty paces away, but Tomas slows her down. She pulls him along by the hand, until she hears the bang of the front door, and then she picks the boy up and runs, feet crunching in the frosty grass.

Marea slips and slides in the dampness, pain blinding her, vision peppered with shifting splotches of black as she fights to keep up. Agonizing minutes seem to pass by, but in fact, it is only a few seconds—she flings herself at Maegan, latching onto the back of her shirt, and they both collapse to the ground, Tomas flung aside as the women grapple for dominance, briefly rolling about before Marea's prosthetics take control, forcing Maegan down by the shoulders with her steely grip.

“Thought I said I didn't wanna kill you,” Marea pants, smiling thinly, eyes wide and wild.

“You think I'm a fool? You always planned on killing us. I could see it in your face. You're a madwoman,” Maegan hisses, snarling even as she stares death in the eye. “You're a monster.”

“No news to me.” Marea shrugs slightly, shifting her right hand to Maegan's throat, and lifting her left in the air, flexing the fingers stiffly before settling them into a tight fist. “But if what you say is true, this is a whole new world, a fresh start, and I can be whatever I want to be. So thanks for nothing.”

With one swing of her left arm, Maegan's face is splattered in the dewy dawn grass.

Marea's heart leaps into her throat as a single crack of thunder rings out in the clearing. A bullet whizzes past her, flying uselessly into the distance, and she slowly raises her hands in the air, turning to face Tomas as she gets to her feet. The little boy stands ten feet away, trembling, tears glistening on his cheeks, Marea's pistol held aloft in his hands.

“Oh, c'mon. Put it down,” Marea says softly, trying to sound comforting, though her voice wavers from exhaustion. “You won't wanna live with yourself after you do that. I killed somebody when I was your age. Hard to cope with.”

The boy begins to bawl, sobbing without restraint, face screwed up in a terrible expression of desolation. Marea takes a few steps towards him, hands tentatively outstretched for the gun, when a shot rings out yet again. It dents and dings off her left arm, and she throws caution to the wind, charging forward as Tomas fires off one last bullet, which connects—it embeds itself in her thigh, and she yelps and collapses in pain, right on top of him, wrenching the gun from his hands with ease and shoving it down his throat. She pulls the trigger, and it clicks. Empty.

A quick, clear snap echoes in the clearing, like a sapling tree felled in the cold of winter. She gets to her feet, and she limps back to the cottage, windows dark and gaping. With the iron sky above her, stars faded but sun not yet risen, she feels a strange, sudden closeness around her. Similar to her connection with magic in Tyria—but certainly not the same. Only one word comes to mind, but she knows that it is just longing, for familiarity, for certainty, a longing which she has never felt before, and she knows she will soon forget.

“Grenth,” she says into the cool, lifeless air. “If you can hear me—don't let my journey be like this.”

And she opens the door to the cottage, slipping behind stone walls.

The time before sunrise is a checklist. She ventures upstairs, where the sleeping quarters are. The Ferny's had fine furniture, for peasants, and she goes through an ornate wooden wardrobe, searching for clothes that will fit her. Maegan's stockings and a long blouse with flouncy sleeves will do, then she takes a thin summer skirt and rips a slit straight up the side, making it mobile. She slips on the woman's spare boots, old and worn, a bit too big, and then she whimpers in pain as she climbs on the bed to reach the sword that hangs above it. She yanks the weapon from its fastenings on the wall, inspecting it briefly. Blade dull but highly ornamented, with swirling vines adorned by grapes, and a hefty hilt with an elegant guard. An heirloom, most likely, that could be easily sharpened into fighting shape again.

In a large chest at the foot of the bed, she finds books. She flips through the pages, covered in foreign lettering, beautiful to behold but still utter nonsense, much like the accents of the people who wrote them. She takes the smallest downstairs with her, some entertainment for the road.

She picks up her apple from beneath the table and chomps away at the mushy flesh. Out behind the cottage, she goes to the small stables and throws the gates open, setting loose goats and pigs and a couple cows, along with one strange animal that almost fills her with joy, only to steal it away so cruelly. It hobbles out last, slightly too fat and making a ridiculous honking sound. At a glance, it appears to be a small horse—a pony, she recalls, is the word—but its legs are much too stout, and its face too round and homely. It brays at her loudly, trying to rub its snout against her own, and she clumsily pivots and strides away with a groan, rolling her eyes.

“You're a fucking liar, y'know that? You're a lying—thing. Heehaw. Lying Heehaw.”

As the sunrise fills the sky with verdant amber light, turning wisps of clouds blue and making the dewy grass glitter, Marea drags two bodies back to the cottage, depositing them in the kitchen with little thought for staging their deaths. Maegan would have had to bang her face against the wall with the force of an airship to mangle it the way Marea's hand did.

And as the beginnings of blue glow upon the horizon, Marea limps through the forest, and emerges in the quiet, green clearing where she arrived. She rummages through the debris thoroughly. She digs a small hole with a piece of scrap metal, and into it goes most of what remains, which she cannot carry—a few books, charred but intact. Her kitty pistol, partially melted. A bag of jerky, just in case. Then she lodges the piece of sheet metal over them, like a protective cover, Horiz staring up at her in the dirt. And she brushes leaves over the grave.

She returns to the homestead as sun floods the fields, a fine mist rising from them and soothing her aching, tormented flesh. The Heehaw honks at her, and now she obligingly goes to it, just barely heaving herself onto its back. The bullet in her thigh pulses with pain, and as she settles into place, the weight finally off her legs, she sighs in relief.

She isn't sure how to steer the Heehaw, but it seems to know where she wants to go. It immediately starts north, and after less than an hour, it clomps onto a middling dirt road, smooth and well-traveled, though on this day, it's as empty as the stone cottage she leaves behind. A sense of peace overcomes her. The sun warm on her neck. In her backpack, a book, Gippa's notes, a handful of jerky, her eye piece, her M pistol and the bullets she rescued from her kitty gun, all sit heavily upon her burned shoulders. The Ferny family sword bumps against her hip, hung from Frank Ferny's ill-fitting belt.

And the Heehaw clops onward, into uncertain lands. She watches the trees for a while, their long arms lacing overhead. Until, after a time, she closes her eyes, and she slumps forward onto the head of her mount, arms swaying in time with its steps.

Physician Telford saw little excitement in his little town of Archet. Most of his days were spent idle in the doorway to his practice, chatting with Hosta, a fine and charming housewife who sold baked sweets in the next building over. She would lean out her window, waving her hand and asking if he wanted a slice of fresh apple pie. And of course he did, for what else was he to do? Treat the occasional spider bite? Admittedly, the spiders in the area were monstrously huge, but at least they did not rend and maim as creatures in faraway lands did.

So, Hosta would bring him a slice of pie, and they would pick over it together on his porch. She would sit upon the water barrel to be at eye level with him, and they'd have a good chat, about husbands and wives, humans and hobbits, the state of the town and the surrounding estates. And then they would part, and Telford would watch from his shopfront as the sun sank lower in the sky, and yet another day of contentment passed by him.

But today, as he goes outside and waits for Hosta to wave from her window, he turns the other way in surprise, wide-eyed, as he watches the little lady and a handful of men leading a donkey down the street, with the petite shape of a person slumped upon it.

“What is this? An injured traveler?” he exclaims, jogging down the lane to meet them.

“Yes Mr. Telford, so it seems. She's a woman, wee small thing, and in terrible shape.” Hosta reaches up and pats the woman's leg, recoiling as her hand comes away damp with blood that has soaked through the stranger's stockings. “Bill here says she's been badly burned, and her skin is all clammy. Reckon she needs your immediate attention.”

“Of course, right away!” Telford stays a step ahead of the men as they lift the woman off her donkey, and carry her through the low doorway into the physician's shop. He darts around frenetically, wringing his hands, eager to help and overwhelmed that his help is truly needed.

He watches attentively as the woman is laid on the patient bed, and then he shoos the others away with a waving of his hands. “Out, out, this requires my full attention. Hosta, however, can stay. As my assistant.”

“I certainly can,” the woman says proudly, not at all ashamed with her own morbid fascination for the unconscious body in the room. She shuffles up to the bedside, resting her elbows on the mattress as she stares at the strange woman's face.

“Looks like she's been through a lot in the past, even before this. Poor little thing, women should not be made into fighters, I always say. There's enough men to do it themselves.”

“Yes, well, some women simply want to fight,” Telford replies absently, fishing supplies from a series of cupboards along the wall, and then sweeping over to his patient, carefully shifting the fabric of her skirt, and then her stockings, until her harrowed flesh is exposed to the air. Hosta gags a bit, but doesn't look away.

“What do you think happened to her?” the halfling gasps, covering her mouth with her hand. “Did she fall into a bonfire?”

“That, and more. She seems to have some sort of puncture wound as well, and that's only the legs. No doubt there will be more to come—perhaps I should not have asked you to stay.”

“No, I can handle it. I'll keep my mouth shut, if need be.”

“Thank you,” Telford replies with a gentle smile, reaching up to the woman's neck and examining an utterly destroyed piece of black cloth that hangs there, more of a frayed, singed rag than a bandana. “Later, when this is taken care of, we can eat a whole pie. And we'll share it with the girl, too.”

Later comes after many hours. Marea opens her eyes, blurry at first. A low, wooden-beamed ceiling comes into focus, and she glances to her left, across the room, where a window, made hazy by bubbled glass, lets the festive warmth of a sunset stretch upon the floor and flow over her pillow. She distinguishes two chattering shapes sitting on stools by that window. They speak in hushed voices, one quite a familiar form, a man of average build, perhaps a tad short. He towers over the silhouette across from him, with the long curly hair of a woman, and a much stouter stature. The height of an asura, maybe, with feet like a platypus's, and a covered bundle on her lap.

Marea abruptly sits up, gritting her teeth and ignoring the flaring of pain in her shoulders and back.

“Oh no, no no no! Not so fast, my dear!” exclaims the asura-sized shape, quickly hopping down from her stool and rushing over to Marea. “Be gentle with yourself, you have been gravely injured in most unusual ways.”

Marea stares at the little woman for a long moment, incessant dotage rising and falling in the background without ever being heard. Finally, as the man comes up beside the bed and rests his hand against her forehead, Marea speaks.

“You're a dwarf.”

The woman immediately goes silent, for quite a long moment, before bursting into laughter, throwing her head back and slapping the man's knee.

“Oh, did you catch that, Telford? No brain damage there, still got her sense of humor!”

“My sense of—what?”

“Just ignore her,” Telford interjects, nudging his companion aside as he stoops down beside Marea's bed. He reaches for her wrist, before catching himself, and placing his fingers to a pulse point on her neck instead. “Hosta is a dear friend of mine. But perhaps not the best bedside manner.”

Marea blinks at him, at the warm touch of his hands on her patch of unburned skin. She looks down at herself, wrapped to the waist in clean white sheets, and the rest of her torso wrapped in bandages. Her prosthetics are out in the open, and the doctor seems not to care.

“You—understand me?” Even as she asks, she feels the round, elegant slant of the words on her tongue. Rajya always said she was a fast learner, a gift for language, when she applied herself.

Telford raises his brows, tilting his head this way and that. “More or less. You certainly sound like nothing I've ever heard before. Are you some adventurer, then? And tell me, when I knock on this side of your head, how does it feel?”

“It kinda hurts—”

“—The south! I bet you come from the south, on those fabled shores,” interjects Hosta, curls bobbing as she yammers on, “We never see anyone from that far away, all the way up here. But you look like sea-faring stock.”

“...Yeah. I'm from the south,” Marea says flatly, flinching as Telford proceeds to knock on the other side of her head. “If that's, that's what you said.”

“Perhaps you could talk a bit slower for our patient, Hosta,” Telford chides, beckoning her back to the bedside. “We must sound as odd to her as she does to us.”

“Very well, very well. Pie time?” The stout woman quickly unwraps the bundle she carries, revealing a blueberry pie, already sliced and still faintly warm from the oven. Acting without thinking, Marea immediately reaches over and grabs a handful right out of the middle, and shoves it in her mouth, smearing dark juice all around her lips. Hosta cackles with delight, though she produces a fork from the pocket of her apron and eats in a more tidy manner, while Telford gazes at the motion of Marea's prosthetics, captivated.

“Well,” the doctor starts, tearing his gaze away and sweeping up a little bite of pie with his finger, “I suppose you would like to know your condition. You arrived around noon on the back of a donkey, unconscious, and--”

“--A donkey?” Marea blurts out. “A suitably stupid name.”

“It was a donkey, yes. Anyway, we took you in and treated you for several hours, throughout the afternoon. You have severe burns all over your legs, and on your back and the back of your neck, as you most likely realized. It will take weeks, if not months, for them to fully heal, but you will be scarred for life.” He pauses, as if waiting for the waterworks, but Marea just shrugs, grabbing another handful of pie.

“Shoulda seen my old scars. Won't be that different,” she says dismissively.

“Mm, you have high spirits. A good sign. You also have a deep gash upon your forehead, which seems to have missed vital areas, but we will need to keep you awake for twenty-four hours to be sure that you remain amongst the living. I also treated several minor cuts across your person. Your final ailment, though—I've never seen anything quite like it.”

Marea stares at him, munching away noisily, waiting for the inevitable questions she must dodge.

“The puncture wound on your thigh—it was made by this small metal projectile.” He pulls the bullet from the pocket of his tunic, and holds it out for her to see. “My first thought was that it came from a slingshot, but truly, there is no way it could have buried itself so deep if that were the case. So I must ask, do you know what it is?”

Marea widens her eyes and shakes her head, a picture of perfect innocence. “Not a clue. I had something in my leg? I had no idea, I thought I was just crispy and tender.”

Hosta chuckles and shakes her head, popping a bite of pie in her small mouth. “Crispy and tender, oh good grief. You sound funny and you make funny, too.”

Telford sighs, placing the bullet in his pocket and patting it for safekeeping. “As I feared. You know, Hosta, the bard did bring tales of strange things along the North-South Road. What do you think? Do you recall any metal projectiles?”

Hosta shakes her head, rolling her eyes. “No, only strange hooded things, screeching in the night, the stuff that spooks children. That old man is always full of nonsense. It's not fair that all we get is a washed-up harpist, while my cousins in Hobbiton get regular visits from the wizard with the fireworks.”

“Wizard?” Marea cuts in, her face lighting up as she licks the last bit of crumbly pie from her fingers. “Like, a guy who does magic?”

“Of course, what else would a wizard be? He has a very long beard, I've heard, so you know he's legitimate.”

Telford shakes his head, tut-tutting under his breath. “I say he can keep his fireworks. We live in a modern age, an age of science, Hosta. Better to keep such whimsy and superstition at arms length. Leave it to the elves, who we rarely have to see.”

Marea mouths the word silently, elves.

“Anyway,” Telford begins again, rising to his feet. “I imagine you must be tired, Miss—forgive me, all this time, I did not think to ask your name.”

“Marea,” she says, opening her mouth to add Sleekfur, but she holds it back. Uncertain how it might be perceived.

“Marea. Quite a lovely name. You must be tired, but since you cannot sleep yet, I will send Hosta on her way, and keep you awake myself.”

“Ohhh, Telford!” the little woman whines dramatically, though she smiles broadly, already shuffling to the door. “I will be by in the morning to check on you, little one,” she chimes to Marea, waving as she slips out into the street.

“Little one,” Marea murmurs, shoulders slumping.

“She likes to call humans that,” Telford explains, pulling his stool over to the bedside, and perching upon it. “Now, what would you like to discuss, to keep you awake?”

Marea taps her chin slowly, licking her chapped lips, the remnants of blueberry flavor making her mouth water. “I'd rather just listen, actually. I have a book. Can you read it to me? Good practice, for the accent, thing,” she adds, pulling on her earlobes.

“It would be my pleasure,” the doctor replies, a warm, genuine smile crinkling his face. A face that could belong to any man, anywhere, yet somehow, in this one, she senses true kindness.

#rp post #marea the silent #chasing arcadia #schmoozing with dem locals #totally didn't just murder an entire family #I need to remember to write about poor Pen in the next one #also do not judge me for using the same soundtrack!!#it is perfect for the occasion

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thehorsedispatch · 4 years ago

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New Post has been published on https://horsetoloan.com/horse-health/do-horses-eat-meat/

Are Horses Omnivores? Do Horses Eat Meat?

Horses are absolutely not omnivores. Even though horses are big strong animals, they don’t eat meat. Horses are strictly herbivores and keep themselves healthy by eating only plants. Omnivores eat both meat and plants, but this does not apply to horses.

Horses in the wild survive eating grains, grass, and other plants. They love all things green and do not eat meat! In fact, horses don’t even have teeth designed for eating meat. They’ve evolved with sharp incisors and very strong canine teeth which help them to crush and break the fibres found in plants into something they can easily digest. This is why older horses have a harder time with nutrition because their teeth can’t effectively break down food any longer.

Are Horses Herbivores?

Horses are 100% herbivores. They’ve even developed a special jawline from eating only raw plants. Carnivores would never be able to eat grains and plants because their teeth aren’t designed for it. Carnivores slash and rip meat for easy swallowing with their fangs while omnivores like horses crunch plants with their blunt teeth and grind up grass to properly digest it.

Horses also have specialized incisors that help them to graze. With their specialized teeth, they can easily nip through long grass, cutting and eating only the grass they want. They’re also especially good at pulling back tree branches to get at something that looks yummy. Almost every animal has unique incisors that help them to eat.

As a herbivore, horses share similar traits with other herbivores like goats and donkeys. They are alert, they have the ability to run in fast bursts, and their skulls are unique. Herbivores have skulls designed to give them an advantage in detecting predators. This means they have one eye on either side of their head so that when they turn their head from side to side, they get a 360-degree view of their surroundings to keep an eye out for predators.

Why Do Horses Sometimes Eat Birds?

If horses are herbivores, why have they been spotted killing and eating birds, particularly baby birds? As crazy as it sounds, lots of herbivores, including horses and deer, will sometimes eat very tiny amounts of meat – though more often than not they just chew on the bones and slurp out the minerals.

Horses, cows, and other herbivores can gain an extra little boost of nutrition from practicing a little bit of meat-eating. But it’s very minimal and there haven’t really been many studies about it just yet.

But ask anyone who owns a horse, they’ll tell you there’s no horse that is above stealing a hotdog out of somebody’s hand or begging for a bite of a hamburger. Some domestic horses even shake birds’ nests out of trees just to eat the eggs and babies.

Even though horses are 100% herbivores, they sometimes will snack on things that are a little meaty. It’s just that their digestive system isn’t designed for it. Sometimes, horses will even eat mice caught up in their hay by accident.

Why Don’t Horses Eat Meat?

The digestive system of a horse is designed for transforming ordinary grass into powerful energy. 12 incisors and 12 premolars cut and grind plant matter such as leaves and stem into mush that gets digested perfectly by the horse’s system.

Horses don’t eat meat because they are herbivores and because they don’t need to. They also don’t have canine teeth for tearing flesh. Horses just aren’t designed for eating meat. The stomach of a horse is also only designed to hold a small amount of food. It also empties its stomach quite quickly. A horse will usually pass its food through its body at about 1 foot per minute. It simply doesn’t have the design needed for digesting meat.

Why Can’t Horses Vomit?

Horses are unable to vomit. Their digestive system is set up in such a way that things can only go down, not up. Unlike cats and dogs that vomit when they eat something that made them sick, horses are stuck with whatever they ingest.

The consequences of not being able to vomit can be serious. If a horse eats something dangerous or poisonous, they have no way of getting it out of their system. They would need immediate medical assistance to prevent a health disaster.

Meats and other animal products often sour quite quickly. It’s possible for meat to become toxic even to carnivores. But carnivores can simply puke out the toxic meat. Horses can’t, and so they can’t risk eating meat. This is herbivore 101. For horses, plants are really the only way to go.

Can Horses Eat Meat?

Horses can technically eat meat. Any animal can technically put meat into its mouth and chew. If a horse steals a bite of your cheeseburger or you catch it munching on some baby birds, it’s not the end of the world. If your horse consumes a bit of meat now and then, it’s probably not going to cause a problem. But you should absolutely never add meat purposely to your horse’s diet.

What’s the Best Food for a Horse?

The best food for a horse is anything that’s nutritious and plant-based. Grains are a great source of vitamins and minerals. Hay is obviously the first thing you think about when it comes to feeding a horse. On average, a horse will consume about 2% of its own body weight every day just in the hay. If your horse weighs about 1000 pounds, it needs to eat 20 pounds of hay in a day.

Related Articles – Orchard Grass Hay, Brome Grass Hay

There are also some foods that your horse definitely shouldn’t eat, even if they are green. Horses shouldn’t eat fruit in large quantities. They should never eat clippings from your lawn or your garden, they shouldn’t eat vegetables like cabbage or broccoli, or really anything in the cabbage family. They also shouldn’t eat dusty hay or feed other animals, like cattle feed.

Stick to hay, grains, the occasional apple treat, and proper horse feed. With this diet, your equine friend will live a long and healthy life.

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dailyofficereadings · 4 years ago

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Daily Office Readings November 27, 2020 at 11:00PM

Psalm 137

Lament over the Destruction of Jerusalem

1 By the rivers of Babylon— there we sat down and there we wept when we remembered Zion. 2 On the willows[a] there we hung up our harps. 3 For there our captors asked us for songs, and our tormentors asked for mirth, saying, “Sing us one of the songs of Zion!”

4 How could we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land? 5 If I forget you, O Jerusalem, let my right hand wither! 6 Let my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth, if I do not remember you, if I do not set Jerusalem above my highest joy.

7 Remember, O Lord, against the Edomites the day of Jerusalem’s fall, how they said, “Tear it down! Tear it down! Down to its foundations!” 8 O daughter Babylon, you devastator![b] Happy shall they be who pay you back what you have done to us! 9 Happy shall they be who take your little ones and dash them against the rock!

Footnotes:

Psalm 137:2 Or poplars

Psalm 137:8 Or you who are devastated

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Psalm 144

Prayer for National Deliverance and Security

Of David.

1 Blessed be the Lord, my rock, who trains my hands for war, and my fingers for battle; 2 my rock[a] and my fortress, my stronghold and my deliverer, my shield, in whom I take refuge, who subdues the peoples[b] under me.

3 O Lord, what are human beings that you regard them, or mortals that you think of them? 4 They are like a breath; their days are like a passing shadow.

5 Bow your heavens, O Lord, and come down; touch the mountains so that they smoke. 6 Make the lightning flash and scatter them; send out your arrows and rout them. 7 Stretch out your hand from on high; set me free and rescue me from the mighty waters, from the hand of aliens, 8 whose mouths speak lies, and whose right hands are false.

9 I will sing a new song to you, O God; upon a ten-stringed harp I will play to you, 10 the one who gives victory to kings, who rescues his servant David. 11 Rescue me from the cruel sword, and deliver me from the hand of aliens, whose mouths speak lies, and whose right hands are false.

12 May our sons in their youth be like plants full grown, our daughters like corner pillars, cut for the building of a palace. 13 May our barns be filled, with produce of every kind; may our sheep increase by thousands, by tens of thousands in our fields, 14 and may our cattle be heavy with young. May there be no breach in the walls,[c] no exile, and no cry of distress in our streets.

15 Happy are the people to whom such blessings fall; happy are the people whose God is the Lord.

Footnotes:

Psalm 144:2 With 18.2 and 2 Sam 22.2: Heb my steadfast love

Psalm 144:2 Heb Mss Syr Aquila Jerome: MT my people

Psalm 144:14 Heb lacks in the walls

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

Psalm 104

God the Creator and Provider

1 Bless the Lord, O my soul. O Lord my God, you are very great. You are clothed with honor and majesty, 2 wrapped in light as with a garment. You stretch out the heavens like a tent, 3 you set the beams of your[a] chambers on the waters, you make the clouds your[b] chariot, you ride on the wings of the wind, 4 you make the winds your[c] messengers, fire and flame your[d] ministers.

5 You set the earth on its foundations, so that it shall never be shaken. 6 You cover it with the deep as with a garment; the waters stood above the mountains. 7 At your rebuke they flee; at the sound of your thunder they take to flight. 8 They rose up to the mountains, ran down to the valleys to the place that you appointed for them. 9 You set a boundary that they may not pass, so that they might not again cover the earth.

10 You make springs gush forth in the valleys; they flow between the hills, 11 giving drink to every wild animal; the wild asses quench their thirst. 12 By the streams[e] the birds of the air have their habitation; they sing among the branches. 13 From your lofty abode you water the mountains; the earth is satisfied with the fruit of your work.

14 You cause the grass to grow for the cattle, and plants for people to use,[f] to bring forth food from the earth, 15 and wine to gladden the human heart, oil to make the face shine, and bread to strengthen the human heart. 16 The trees of the Lord are watered abundantly, the cedars of Lebanon that he planted. 17 In them the birds build their nests; the stork has its home in the fir trees. 18 The high mountains are for the wild goats; the rocks are a refuge for the coneys. 19 You have made the moon to mark the seasons; the sun knows its time for setting. 20 You make darkness, and it is night, when all the animals of the forest come creeping out. 21 The young lions roar for their prey, seeking their food from God. 22 When the sun rises, they withdraw and lie down in their dens. 23 People go out to their work and to their labor until the evening.

24 O Lord, how manifold are your works! In wisdom you have made them all; the earth is full of your creatures. 25 Yonder is the sea, great and wide, creeping things innumerable are there, living things both small and great. 26 There go the ships, and Leviathan that you formed to sport in it.

27 These all look to you to give them their food in due season; 28 when you give to them, they gather it up; when you open your hand, they are filled with good things. 29 When you hide your face, they are dismayed; when you take away their breath, they die and return to their dust. 30 When you send forth your spirit,[g] they are created; and you renew the face of the ground.

31 May the glory of the Lord endure forever; may the Lord rejoice in his works— 32 who looks on the earth and it trembles, who touches the mountains and they smoke. 33 I will sing to the Lord as long as I live; I will sing praise to my God while I have being. 34 May my meditation be pleasing to him, for I rejoice in the Lord. 35 Let sinners be consumed from the earth, and let the wicked be no more. Bless the Lord, O my soul. Praise the Lord!

Footnotes:

Psalm 104:3 Heb his

Psalm 104:4 Heb his

Psalm 104:12 Heb By them

Psalm 104:14 Or to cultivate

Psalm 104:30 Or your breath

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

Zechariah 14:12-21

12 This shall be the plague with which the Lord will strike all the peoples that wage war against Jerusalem: their flesh shall rot while they are still on their feet; their eyes shall rot in their sockets, and their tongues shall rot in their mouths. 13 On that day a great panic from the Lord shall fall on them, so that each will seize the hand of a neighbor, and the hand of the one will be raised against the hand of the other; 14 even Judah will fight at Jerusalem. And the wealth of all the surrounding nations shall be collected—gold, silver, and garments in great abundance. 15 And a plague like this plague shall fall on the horses, the mules, the camels, the donkeys, and whatever animals may be in those camps.

16 Then all who survive of the nations that have come against Jerusalem shall go up year after year to worship the King, the Lord of hosts, and to keep the festival of booths.[a] 17 If any of the families of the earth do not go up to Jerusalem to worship the King, the Lord of hosts, there will be no rain upon them. 18 And if the family of Egypt do not go up and present themselves, then on them shall[b] come the plague that the Lord inflicts on the nations that do not go up to keep the festival of booths.[c] 19 Such shall be the punishment of Egypt and the punishment of all the nations that do not go up to keep the festival of booths.[d]

20 On that day there shall be inscribed on the bells of the horses, “Holy to the Lord.” And the cooking pots in the house of the Lord shall be as holy as[e] the bowls in front of the altar; 21 and every cooking pot in Jerusalem and Judah shall be sacred to the Lord of hosts, so that all who sacrifice may come and use them to boil the flesh of the sacrifice. And there shall no longer be traders[f] in the house of the Lord of hosts on that day.

Footnotes:

Zechariah 14:16 Or tabernacles; Heb succoth

Zechariah 14:18 Gk Syr: Heb shall not

Zechariah 14:18 Or tabernacles; Heb succoth

Zechariah 14:19 Or tabernacles; Heb succoth

Zechariah 14:20 Heb shall be like

Zechariah 14:21 Or Canaanites

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

Philippians 2:1-11

Imitating Christ’s Humility

2 If then there is any encouragement in Christ, any consolation from love, any sharing in the Spirit, any compassion and sympathy, 2 make my joy complete: be of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind. 3 Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. 4 Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others. 5 Let the same mind be in you that was[a] in Christ Jesus,

6 who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, 7 but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, 8 he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death— even death on a cross.

9 Therefore God also highly exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name, 10 so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, 11 and every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

Footnotes:

Philippians 2:5 Or that you have

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

Luke 19:41-48

Jesus Weeps over Jerusalem

41 As he came near and saw the city, he wept over it, 42 saying, “If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes. 43 Indeed, the days will come upon you, when your enemies will set up ramparts around you and surround you, and hem you in on every side. 44 They will crush you to the ground, you and your children within you, and they will not leave within you one stone upon another; because you did not recognize the time of your visitation from God.”[a]

Jesus Cleanses the Temple

45 Then he entered the temple and began to drive out those who were selling things there; 46 and he said, “It is written,

‘My house shall be a house of prayer’; but you have made it a den of robbers.”

47 Every day he was teaching in the temple. The chief priests, the scribes, and the leaders of the people kept looking for a way to kill him; 48 but they did not find anything they could do, for all the people were spellbound by what they heard.

Footnotes:

Luke 19:44 Gk lacks from God

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

#November 27 #2020 at 11:00PM

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jflashandclash · 7 years ago

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Attrition of Peace

Twenty- Eight: Percy

I Fall Over. Epically, Of Course.

Author note: Sorry this is late guys! The last week and a half has been insane. It’s not like I left you waiting for a major battle—oh… ah—well, I hope you enjoy!

To say Percy was having a bad day would be a grievous understatement. He’d had worse days: he wasn’t in Tartarus right now, nor was he in that awful demigod prep course that Annabeth and his mom had signed him up for to do New Rome’s entrance exams.

But, his girlfriend had broken up with him today for a weasel she couldn’t catch. And this was the third counselor of Cabin Seven that Percy would see moments before his death—though maybe not. Maybe Will was okay. Percy tried not to focus on Will, or Nico’s disappearance, or the headless corpse.

When he first ran up to the scene, Percy feared the worst on the body’s identity, except that Nico hadn’t been wearing such a fashionable pink pajama set. Percy was pretty sure, if someone tried to redress Nico in that post-mortem, even Hades would break the rules of the dead and allow Nico ten seconds of undeadly massacring to destroy such a sleepwear atrocity.

However, when Percy saw Annabeth and Piper lying on the ground and that crimson-and-black unicorn-jerk keeping vigilance over them, everything else vanished. He sprinted to her side, dropped to his knees, and cradled her.

With the way the unicorn had its gold and silver, broken horn to Piper’s neck, Percy may have feared some Diomedes’ level of flesh-eating-horse, except he could hear the unicorn grumbling about healing her.

But nothing about healing Annabeth.

When Percy pulled Annabeth into his lap, he was relieved to hear her soft breath. She was okay, but looked exhausted. There were dark circles under her eyes, like she hadn’t slept in days. He knew that look well during her exam times.

“Wise Girl…” he whispered and kissed her forehead. Despite the cold, her forehead was coated with sweat.

What happened? He demanded mentally.

The unicorn huffed, its black mouth puttering. He raised his horn from Piper to scowl one eye at Percy. At the sight of Piper’s neck, Percy winced. Pus and blood stained Piper’s camo jacket from some sore the unicorn was fixing. She was also breathing, though each breath rattled.

Eat bit, mate, the unicorn snapped. Other than Arion, Percy was so used to unquestioned respect from equestrians, the unicorn’s tone startled him. I just got back from fightin’ your little bird, went for a bit of grass, heard a crack, and came to check on my pet—

Jason and Leo appeared on either side of Piper.

When Leo knelt down, he landed in something squishy.

“How’s our Beauty Queen?” he asked, his voice cracking. Leo looked pale and he kept glancing back to Will.

Frank knelt beside Will. The big Canadian took off his praetorian cloak and gently laid it over Will in a way Percy really didn’t like. The movement was too final, too telling, especially how Frank covered Will’s smashed face, like that was all that was left to do.

Beside Frank, Hazel stood with her spatha drawn. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her empty fist was clenched and shaking.

Calypso sank down beside the decapitated body, looking stunned.

When Percy returned his gaze, his eyes locked with Jason. A moment of understanding passed between them, and Percy knew he had seen the final moments of another deceased Cabin Seven counselor. He wondered how many friends Jason had seen die in battle.

Anger wretched at his gut. This was supposed to be a peace party.

These other demigods weren’t great at the whole “peace party” thing. They’d need to be taught a thing or two about peace.

Er, well, about keeping the peace. Or—whatever. They needed to be taught a lesson.

“Guys? Earth to Percy, what did Sergeant Horn say about Pipes?” Leo asked.

Judging from his expression, Leo hadn’t realized what had happened to Will yet.

The unicorn snapped its teeth near Leo’s head. The name is Vinyl, Meat Sack.

“I wouldn’t call him that,” Percy said. He’d meant it for Leo, but realized it work for both parties.

“She should be okay,” Jason said, almost stubbornly. Percy watched Jason gently take Piper’s arm, two fingers pressed to her vitals. “Her heartbeat is strong though I think she’s running a slight fever.”

Behind them, Percy could see Hazel wipe away her tears. “We’re not letting them get away, not—not with what’s happened here. I’m going to bring down that barrier.”

Percy might have asked “What barrier?” but Hazel turned towards the woods, where they’d seen Pax dart off as they arrived.

As she raised her empty hand, a circle of green runes glowed around the forested lot.

Calypso stood up, away from the body. She rubbed her fingers on her work pants, then flipped her braid back over her shoulder. She stepped beside Hazel. “I can help you.”

Leo frowned and shifted. “Sunshine, I thought you didn’t have magic��wait—if you do, shouldn’t you be focusing on healing Will?”

Jason winced. “Leo—”

But Calypso beat him to it. While lifting her hands beside Hazel, Calypso hissed, “What good would that do?” Her voice was so much harsher than he remembered.

That did make Percy realize she could be healing Annabeth or Piper. Thinking about the curses and death wishes Calypso had given Annabeth in Tartarus, should he let her heal Annabeth?

The barrier’s circle emblazed with a more brilliant green. It expanded, like a bubble ready to pop.

Leo’s mouth dropped open. He glanced back over to Will and the decapitated body. “…oh… oh gods—does that mean the other body is Nic—”

“No, it’s Jack,” Calypso said. She gritted her teeth. Hazel made a soft grumble. Something small and sparkly sprang up by their feet—a diamond.

“Jack, your ex-boyfriend Jack? You can recognize him without a head?!”

“Not the time, Leo,” Percy pointed out. Though he wasn’t sure it was ever the time to discuss headless body recognition. “Jason.” Percy locked eyes with the son of Jupiter. “Do you wanna find out if that barrier is wind resistant?”

“On it,” Jason said. He gently kissed Piper’s forehead, took off his jacket, and propped her head under it. Then he went to join Hazel and Calypso. When he raised his arms, a deafening whistle blasted into the air as wind thundered into the trees.

Leo fumbled with his tool belt. “Lemme alert Felix and Festus. Maybe we can smoke them out.”

Frank stepped over to them, looking sick. “My stick could be in there.”

“Right. Maybe Felix can annoy them out,” Leo corrected and walked off, calling on the metal friends they’d parked further down the street.

Annabeth murmured softly. Percy dropped his face close to hers, trying to tune out the others. She was so quiet; he was scared Jason’s wind would drown her out.

What she said made his skin crawl. “Eris... has… your sis...ter…”

Percy felt his jaw drop. “My sister? They took my sister?!”

She inhaled leisurely and her eyes fluttered. She seemed like she might pass out again, but managed, “Don’t... kill… Ajax… Not… Fault…”

None of that made sense. But Annabeth’s grey eyes rolled back into her head before Percy could ask her what any of it meant. Although she’d barely managed to move at all, what little she had done spent the last of her energy. Annabeth collapsed into a deep sleep.

Percy trembled as he mimicked what Jason had done for Piper. He took off his swim captain sweater to put under Annabeth’s head. He couldn’t tell if his shakes were more from fear or anger.

You could mess with him. You could mess with the gods. You could even mess with Camp Half-Blood.

But no one touched Annabeth.

And no one touched his little sister or the rest of his family.

“Your sister?! Gods, Percy, are—are you okay?” Frank’s voice brought him to the present.

Frank hovered nearby, looking like he felt dumb for asking the question. But Percy was glad for it. The question made him focus.

“You.” Percy pointed at the unicorn who had continued to heal Piper. “You keep an eye out on these two, else I’ll hunt you down and turn you into glue.”

The unicorn huffed at him. Yea, the unicorn had attacked them, but he figured—had Vinyl wanted to kill Annabeth and Piper—he would have been using them for horn goring practice instead of sprinkling them with fairy dust.

Percy got to his feet and drew Riptide. “Alright, Frank. No more horsing around. We gotta make a plan to catch these bastards.” Especially if his sister and Nico were on the line. Especially if they had to find out what bastard did this to Will.

Something exploded beside them.

Shards of what looked like glowing green glass puffed into the moonbeams before dissolving into dust. As Jason’s air swept the particles away, an entire townhouse came into view in place of the forest, with a full driveway, a van parked out front, and a confused looking metal donkey beside it.

The Pax brother’s van.

There was also a stumbling silver worktable on the lawn. Leo must have sent Felix in while Percy was attending to Annabeth. The table looked crippled, one leg bent to the point of nonfunctioning. Now, it might make a better piece of angry, modern art.

“Barrier is down!” Hazel announced.

From their position in the neighbor’s adjacent lawn, Percy could see the back porch, where seven demigods were making a run for the forest behind the house.

“They’re leaving out the back!” Percy shouted.

Jason was on it. As he stepped rapidly along the side of the house, he raised one hand. A lightning bolt blasted into the tree line ahead of the retreating demigods.

Everything went white.

Percy’s ears rang with the pop.

Despite temporary deaf and blindness, Percy and Frank rushed over to join where Jason and Hazel were converging.

When Percy blinked the white dots out of his vision, he could see their attempted escapees were still trying to get to their feet. Before the Pax brothers and their allies could regroup, Hazel lifted her hands and shoved them down, hard, like she was about to hop over an invisible fence.

The ground by the tree line collapsed in a semicircle trench, cutting off any escape to the woods, unless one of them had a grappling hook or were an Olympic level pole vaulter,[1] they’d have to get through the five of them instead. Percy hoped they’d try to get through them.

“Nice,” Frank complimented Hazel.

“Thanks,” Hazel said, but her eyes were narrowed at their opponents. Percy understood. He could feel their collective rage. While Percy didn’t know the full story, these jerks had messed with him, his friends, and his family too much. They were going to find out who did this to Annabeth, Piper, and Will, where Nico was, and what they’d done with Percy’s little sister.

“Annabeth said not to kill them,” Percy growled.

Jason cracked his knuckles. “Did she say anything about beating them senseless?”

“Nope. She left that out.”

“Good,” Hazel said, clutching her spatha.

A rush of air puffed out behind them as something thumped onto the ground. Leo laughed crazily beside what Percy assumed was Festus. “Ha—ha! Dragon cavalry has arrived! Let’s show them that our back up is cooler than theirs!”

“No fire,” Hazel called over her shoulder.

Frank gave her an appreciative smile.

“Right! No fire!” Leo assured.

Festus creaked in confirmation.

“Hey, Sunshine, see if you can heal the girls while we take care of this.”

Percy was thinking how to politely inform Leo that his girlfriend might want to kill Annabeth when a cry went up from Hazel’s makeshift trench.

By now, Percy and his friends were walking past the back porch. He could see where Axel, Pax, Euna, and another boy that Percy didn’t recognize were standing

The tall, gangly brunette stranger tossed something onto the ground.

Smoke exploded into the moonlight, twisting out in three different colors: black in the center, and gold and green on either side. The screen completely coated their opponents, the back yard, and the trench. Then, it snaked upward into three separate shapes. The gold warped into a lion; the green, a serpentine head; the black, one of a goat.

As though in sync with the swirling smoke, a hiss and a snarl thundered from within.

Although Percy desperately hoped the goat would go baaaa, instead, a column of fire spat out of the smoke goat’s mouth. Not nearly as funny as the baaah, would have been.

Percy immediately recognized the shape as something he’d fought as a child. Some part of him felt small again.

Frank put it to words. “That is the Triple A Chimera,” he warned.

“AAA? Do they sell insurance?” Percy asked, trying to sound confident. Why was his voice shaking still? He was trying not to think about his sister, or Annabeth, or what could have happened to either of them. He was trying to focus on the battle, but his mind kept twisting to panic, like his battle mode ADHD had gone haywire.

Someone chanted in a language Percy didn’t understand. The barometric pressure dropped, like it had when Jason summoned lightning. A flash of turquoise flames fluttered to life within the golden smoke, tinting it a sickly green.

Another chill went down Percy’s spine. Some part deep inside of him said he should nope right out of this. But he and his friends had defeated the giants together and other way scarier things. Some renegade demigods? No problem, right?

“Reyna said they use fear magic—at least the Leonis Caput does. Ares said he already killed two praetors.”

“Right. Fear magic. That’s what it is,” Leo said behind them.

Jason put a hand out to stop any of them from approaching the smoke. “Frank, you didn’t say Axel was the Leonis Caput!”

“You know them?” Hazel asked. The fear magic must have been getting to her too. She looked queasy.

“I fought him and the Silver-Tongued Snake during the Battle of Mount Othrys. That’s the bastard playing with Reyna’s emotions?”

The way Jason said it made Percy think Annabeth’s wishes about no-killing wouldn’t be honored.

“They have nicknames?” Percy asked, trying to stop shaking. “It’s like a boy band.”

“I assure you, they’re nothing like a boy band.”

As though to confirm, through the smoke, a figure stepped out. Percy wondered if the bronze dragon behind them might discourage an attack and encourage making a sign that said We surrender. Sorry for being jerks.

Instead, the creature he saw didn’t look human, but also didn’t appear to be anything he knew from Greek mythology.

It had a ram’s skull for a head, with horns jutting several feet out to the sides. Green mist poured from its empty eye sockets. Pouches with glowing runes dangled from its wrists, its exposed spinal column, and its two-pronged black staff. Its limbs looked built out of tree twigs. Although humanoid, its gait was off, like each cloven step forward required it to rip roots out of the earth.

From the golden smoke beside it, another stalked forward. This one had golden skin that sagged into folds. Where the skin was torn, Percy could see a rotting skeleton. The face was feline, with a bloodied, crimson mane encasing the neck. Its jaws were permanently stretched into a snarl, too far for a living creature. Inside the blackness of the throat, Percy could see the reflection of two predatory golden eyes, like this thing had swallowed someone that wanted out.

The way it moved reminded Percy of how Leo’s flames flickered—too abrupt and jerky to look real.

Lastly, something rolled from the green smoke. It hissed out a laugh and crept closer, keeping low to the ground, though Percy could have sworn he saw the reptilian flicker of a tail.

Percy was not digging this fear magic. He was shivering like the first time he’d seen Polybotes.

“I’ve seen the real thing… They’re more like a… discount Chimera,” Percy said, swallowing.

The others looked as stunned.

“Jason.” Frank seemed to come to first. “Can you blow their cover?”

Jason shook his head, like he was warding off a bad memory. “Gladly.”

As Jason raised his arms to blast away the smoke, the serpentine figure and the feline crouched low, like an Olympic sprinter about to dash at them. Mr. Ramhead in the center slammed his staff down.

“Incanteare: Gelu Semati!” he snarled.

The serpent and the feline disappeared. Something else swirled out from the smoke: a blast of wintery hail. Tiny ice bullets pelted into Percy’s skin, making him wince and raise a hand to block his face.

Although the smoke dissipated under Jason’s wind, the hail blew into the wind, unlike anything Percy had ever seen. Percy couldn’t sense the water in that ice. He never thought there would be a storm he and Jason couldn’t stop, but this hail didn’t seem to care about the powers of the children of the sky and storm.

“So you wanna play with magic? You should know what you’re falling for,” the voice echoed from where Mr. Ramhead had been standing. The hailstorm increased; Percy could no longer see him. He could barely even see Frank, only a few feet away from him.

But he could sense something coming, something bad.

“I can’t control any of this!” Jason said, “Hazel?”

“It’s an illusion—but I can conjure Mist, not see through it,” Hazel said, “Listen for them!”

Percy desperately wished Rachel was here. Or Annabeth and Piper were conscious. Rachel could have seen through. Annabeth might have thought of a plan around it, and Piper could have talked Mr. Ramshead down.

“Jason and I will take to the air, see if we can get a better idea of what’s going on or where this ends,” Frank said, getting a hold of himself. “Hazel, see if you can trip up our opponents and make it hard to sneak around. Percy, Leo, Festus, make sure no one gets past you.”

“Will do, Praetor Man. Time for the Leomeister and Festus to—”

Something scurried past Percy’s leg. He pivoted to follow the movement, but the small creatures weren’t after him. The storm was less intense behind him, allowing Percy to catch a glimpse of what happened.

Leo stood a few feet back. Festus crouched behind him, making the townhouse look like a toy model. Both were ready to fight.

Then a weasel the size of a tractor slammed into the side of Festus. It seemed to come out of nowhere. Two smaller creatures hopped off the first, scampering up onto Festus’s wings.

While Festus tried to gain his footing, the monster-sized weasel twisted to chomp down on Festus’s neck. Percy hoped it would wretch back in pain from a toothache, but the black teeth sank right into the bronze.

The dragon creaked in alarm. The weasel was smaller than him, but those teeth must have hurt.

“Festus!” Leo shouted.

Festus stumbled, smashing into the side of the house. Percy took a step towards them in horror—Festus was close to Annabeth, Percy, Calypso, and Vinyl. The structure groaned, siding ripping off and onto his wings. The weasel disengaged, darted to the side, and dashed at him again. That thing was fast.[2]

“No fire!” Leo shouted when Festus’s mouth began to glow, withdrawing a sledgehammer from his tool belt.

It creaked again in anger. Then went to unfurl its wings, when one made an uncomfortable cracking sound.

One of the other tiny weasels phased out of Festus’s half-folded wing, a strip of wires dangling from its mouth.

Something exploded on Festus’s other wing.

They couldn’t use fire, but no one had said anything about water. Percy was about to give that giant rodent a hose down and get Festus clear of the girls, when he realized something horrible.

The weasels had been a distraction.

“Eyes forward!” Frank shouted.

Percy’s gut tugged when he felt for the water in the plumps under the house. He pulled, forcing the pipes to burst, flooding the water towards the surface.

As the water surged up, Jason shouted in alarm. The air and hail whirled around Jason as he went to take off, and follow Frank’s orders. Something anchored his ascent.

Vines erupted from the ground, wrapping tightly around the son of Jupiter’s ankles. The vines shooting from the earth became thicker—tree roots—and dragged Jason back down. Jason slashed furiously at the plants, but a new one would snag out of the ground each time he cut one down. Soon, the tree roots had crawled up his leg and sank him back to the grass.

A hissing laugh cackled out of the hail beside Jason. “I’ve seen enough hentai to know where this is going.”

When the vines snatched at Frank, he dispersed into a swarm of wasps—or something like that, since Percy just saw the large Canadian disappear into the hail.

Before Hazel could help him or Festus or before Percy could blast them with water, something rolled from the same direction of that taunting hiss.

Percy expected to have to destroy the soccer ball-like object, but felt his stomach pitch when the head started talking in an announcer voice.

“Oh! Our eagle boy is out for the count! Can the gracious Jason Grace manage to fight Euna Song’s godly grip! Stay tuned to find out folks—”

“Is that a talking head?!” Hazel demanded, being closest to the… thing.

No one could answer.

The Triple A Chimera reappeared.

Percy didn’t see the other two members, but something flickered out of the hail, directly beside him. One moment, Percy was concentrating on the up flow of sewer water and hoping Hazel and Frank could help Jason, when a skeletal humanoid appeared out of the hail and rolled into the splits beside Percy.

He hadn’t expected it to be so close, or so low to the ground. The movement completely exposed the Leonis Caput’s golden fur back and red maned head. It had no weapons drawn, and—for that instant—Percy could see it give him a ghastly grin.

A second set of golden, glistening eyes winked at Percy from inside the creature’s massive jaws.

As Percy pivoted to redirect Riptide, the monster slammed its palm into the side of Percy’s knee.

Percy felt air escape his mouth in the form of a scream.

Something snapped in his knee. The joint bent inward, towards his other leg.

Percy focused to keep his concentration on the scene around him: the hail, the gleam of the monster’s fur, the sewage water, his friends’ shouts, the talking head announcing his fall. He refused to let the world white out, like his body wanted it to.

In the same instance, Percy slammed Riptide’s blade into the Leonis Caput’s shoulder.

The blade deflected off the monster’s hide.

The Nemean Lion fur, he realized. He should have recognized it. This person—Axel?—must have killed it after him. If it was the same, no weapon could pierce that hide.

There was nothing Percy could do to regain his footing. His knee wouldn’t respond when he tried to stumble. He was going to fall.

But his little sister and Nico were on the line. He wasn’t about to let this monster win. After all, he was Percy Jackson.

Footnotes:

[1] Pax would like to clarify, that as he and Axel are circus performers, they probably could have made it. But they didn’t want to leave the others behind. You’re welcome, Pax.

[2] Look up videos of weasels vs. snakes. Weasels are AWESOME!

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dfroza · 4 years ago

Text

Today’s reading from the ancient books of Proverbs and Psalms

for April 26 of 2021 with Proverbs 26 and Psalm 26, accompanied by Psalm 38 for the 38th day of Spring and Psalm 116 for day 116 of the year

[Proverbs 26]

Like snow in the summer and rain in the time of harvest,

so honor is never fitting for a fool.

Like a bird that flits and flutters or a swallow in mid-flight,

so a curse that lacks cause will never come to light.

A whip is for the horse, a bridle is for the donkey,

and a rod is for the fool’s back.

Never answer a fool on his own foolish terms,

or you will become like him;

Rather, answer a fool on his own foolish terms,

or he will become wise in his own eyes.

Like someone who cuts off his feet or drinks to his ruin,

so is the one who uses a fool to pass on his message.

As lame legs are useless, dangling on the crippled,

so is a proverb in the mouth of a fool.

Like one who ties a stone in his slingshot,

so is one who honors a fool.

Like a thorn in the hand of a drunkard,

so is a proverb in the mouth of a fool.

Like an archer who shoots at random and injures everyone,

so is a person who hires a fool or someone off the street.

Like a dog who goes back to his own vomit,

so is a fool who always returns to his foolishness.

Have you seen a person who is wise in his own sight?

Know that there is more hope for a fool than for him.

A lazy person says, “There’s a lion in the road!

A lion in the streets!

Another good reason to stay in today.”

As a door swings on its hinges and goes nowhere,

so a slacker turns over in his bed.

Some people are so lazy that they reach for food on the plate

but lack the will to bring it up to their mouths.

The slacker sees himself as wiser by far

than seven men who can converse intelligently.

Like a man who seizes a wild dog by the ears,

so is anyone who walks by and meddles in someone else’s argument.

Like a madman who hurls flaming spears and shoots deadly arrows,

So is anyone who deceives a neighbor

and then says, “But I was only joking with you.”

When there is no wood, the fire goes out;

when there is no one to spread gossip, arguing stops.

Like charcoal to smoldering embers and dry wood to a fire,

so a hot-tempered man kindles strife.

Whispered gossip is like a delicious first course:

it is devoured with pleasure and then penetrates deep within you.

Like a shiny glaze coating a rough clay pot,

so are burning lips that conceal an evil heart.

One who hates may camouflage it beneath pleasant words,

but deep inside him, treachery still rages;

Don’t believe him when he speaks kindly

because his heart is completely ruled by evil.

And though he covers his hatred with cleverness,

his wicked ways will be publicly exposed.

The one who digs a trap for another will fall into it,

and the one who starts rolling a stone will have it roll back over him.

Liars take no pity on those they crush with their lies,

and flattery spoils everyone it touches.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 26 (The Voice)

[Psalm 26]

A song of David.

Declare my innocence, O Eternal One!

I have walked blamelessly down this path.

I placed my trust in the Eternal and have yet to stumble.

Put me on trial and examine me, O Eternal One!

Search me through and through—from my deepest longings to every thought that crosses my mind.

Your unfailing love is always before me;

I have journeyed down Your path of truth.

My life is not wasted among liars;

my days are not spent among cheaters.

I despise every crowd intent on evil;

I do not commune with the wicked.

I wash my hands in the fountain of innocence

so that I might join the gathering that surrounds Your altar, O Eternal One.

From my soul, I will join the songs of thanksgiving;

I will sing and proclaim Your wonder and mystery.

Your house, home to Your glory, O Eternal One, radiates its light.

I am fixed on this place and long to be nowhere else.

When Your wrath pursues those who oppose You,

those swift to sin and thirsty for blood,

spare my soul and grant me life.

These men hold deceit in their left hands,

and in their right hands, bribery and lies.

But God, I have walked blamelessly down this path,

and this is my plea for redemption.

This is my cry for Your mercy.

Here I stand secure and confident

before all the people; I will praise the Eternal.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 26 (The Voice)

[Psalm 38]

Take a deep breath, God; calm down—

don’t be so hasty with your punishing rod.

Your sharp-pointed arrows of rebuke draw blood;

my backside stings from your discipline.

I’ve lost twenty pounds in two months

because of your accusation.

My bones are brittle as dry sticks

because of my sin.

I’m swamped by my bad behavior,

collapsed under an avalanche of guilt.

The cuts in my flesh stink and grow maggots

because I’ve lived so badly.

And now I’m flat on my face

feeling sorry for myself morning to night.

All my insides are on fire,

my body is a wreck.

I’m on my last legs; I’ve had it—

my life is a vomit of groans.

Lord, my longings are sitting in plain sight,

my groans an old story to you.

My heart’s about to break;

I’m a burned-out case.

Cataracts blind me to God and good;

old friends avoid me like the plague.

My cousins never visit,

my neighbors stab me in the back.

My competitors blacken my name,

devoutly they pray for my ruin.

But I’m deaf and mute to it all,

ears shut, mouth shut.

I don’t hear a word they say,

don’t speak a word in response.

What I do, God, is wait for you,

wait for my Lord, my God—you will answer!

I wait and pray so they won’t laugh me off,

won’t smugly strut off when I stumble.

I’m on the edge of losing it—

the pain in my gut keeps burning.

I’m ready to tell my story of failure,

I’m no longer smug in my sin.

My enemies are alive and in action,

a lynch mob after my neck.

I give out good and get back evil

from God-haters who can’t stand a God-lover.

Don’t dump me, God;

my God, don’t stand me up.

Hurry and help me;

I want some wide-open space in my life!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 38 (The Message)

[Psalm 116]

I love God because he listened to me,

listened as I begged for mercy.

He listened so intently

as I laid out my case before him.

Death stared me in the face,

hell was hard on my heels.

Up against it, I didn’t know which way to turn;

then I called out to God for help:

“Please, God!” I cried out.

“Save my life!”

God is gracious—it is he who makes things right,

our most compassionate God.

God takes the side of the helpless;

when I was at the end of my rope, he saved me.

I said to myself, “Relax and rest.

God has showered you with blessings.

Soul, you’ve been rescued from death;

Eye, you’ve been rescued from tears;

And you, Foot, were kept from stumbling.”

I’m striding in the presence of God,

alive in the land of the living!

I stayed faithful, though overwhelmed,

and despite a ton of bad luck,

Despite giving up on the human race,

saying, “They’re all liars and cheats.”

What can I give back to God

for the blessings he’s poured out on me?

I’ll lift high the cup of salvation—a toast to God!

I’ll pray in the name of God;

I’ll complete what I promised God I’d do,

and I’ll do it together with his people.

When they arrive at the gates of death,

God welcomes those who love him.

Oh, God, here I am, your servant,

your faithful servant: set me free for your service!

I’m ready to offer the thanksgiving sacrifice

and pray in the name of God.

I’ll complete what I promised God I’d do,

and I’ll do it in company with his people,

In the place of worship, in God’s house,

in Jerusalem, God’s city.

Hallelujah!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 116 (The Message)

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versatilepoetry · 5 years ago

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You Can't Strangulate Yourself And Still Lead Life

You can't compress your fingers and still prolifically write, You can't clench your teeth and still gregariously smile, You can't sleep tight on the bed and still boisterously run, You can't stand in freezing snowflakes and still sweat like a horse, You can't stitch your lips and still loquaciously speak, You can't stuff cotton in your ears and still hear the pin dropping on pure silk, You can't squeeze your eyes and still witness the mesmerizing sparrow shrugging rain drops from its body, You can't tie your hands and still swim against turbulent waves of the choppy ocean, You can't slit your stomach with a knife; and still devour ravishing chunks of tangy butter, You can't paint the mirror and still sight your pellucid reflection, You can't stand on Mount Everest and still view the world as it is, You can't consume titillating champagne and still decipher mind boggling sums of arithmetic, You can't wear cowdung coated shoes and still smell like a supremely redolent rose, You can't walk upside down and still shake hands amicably with your girlfriend, You can't walk on red-hot embers of coal and still want your feet to develop extra soles, You can't have shattered teeth ands till snap through the obdurate shell of coconut in one snap, You can't have a snow white beard extruding from your cheeks and still proclaim that you were a teenager, You can't yawn with your Jaws wide open and still remain dry eyed, You can't be an insane lunatic and still be able to scrupulously recite each stanza from the Shakespeare, You can't adorn a diamond ring on your finger and still audaciously declare that you weren't engaged, You can't get as pink as a radish and still say that you didn't blush the slightest, You can't protrude out your tongue in anger and still convey to the world that you were a revered saint, You can't have dark circles under your lids and still perceive yourself to be an innocuous kid, You can't keep lying on the seashore and still feel in the midst of tingling adventure, You can't whip the slave left, right, center and still believe that you had blessed him, You can't act like a crazy clown and still envisage yourself to be the greatest actor, You can't stammer and still speak with articulate proficiency on the mike, You can't drive slow and still win the whirlwind speed motor car race, You can't be bare eyed and still stare unrelentingly into the blazing fireball of Sun, You can't shout deafeningly and still blow a melodious whistle, You can't be afraid of a mosquito and still pledge to leap into the unfathomably deep valley head on, You can't eat Cadbury chocolates and still expect smoke to diffuse ecstatically from your nostrils, You can't drape your feet in spiked footwear and still topple on the ground like nine pins, You can't apply mud on your hair and still experience the silken follicles shine, You can't keep looking at the changing sun and still tell the exact minute of the day, You can't have a badly fractured hand and still expect to challenge the mightiest wrestler, You can't have red ants inside your trousers and still sit unperturbed throughout the business meeting, You can't have savage blood coated on your hands and still divulge to the world that they were as sacrosanct as God, You can't be incarcerated behind bars of the prison and still play hide-n-seek with your children in the park, You can't wear a flimsy night suit and still stand without shivering on the frozen lake, You can't have infinite blemishes of chicken pox and still compare yourself with the shimmering pearl, You can't be a mundane businessman and still have a passionate penchant for poetic rhyme, You can't be an imbecile beggar and still think of sleeping all night on the golden couch, You can't sit in front of the man eater leopard and still recite tranquil rhymes from the holy scriptures, You can't stick your tongue out and still say that you're well mannered and extremely cultured, You can't be a ghastly skeleton suspended from the ceiling and still conquer the entire battle field in war, You can't wink flirtatiously at a girl and still adroitly tell her that she was your sister, You can't be rustic fisherman and still know the most intricate of computer virus, You can't spell death wrongly and still have an ambition to die, You can't simply hold the knife in your hands and still profusely bleed, You can't open your mouth a trifle lazily and still expect thunderous tunes to blast through the frigid atmosphere, You can't wear a necklace of glistening diamonds and still feel venomous snakes brutally strangulating your neck, You can't be a slime coated frog and still conceive yourself to as the astonishingly beautiful crown princess, You can't eat foul sewage floating in the gutter and still expect pearls to pop out each time you opened your mouth, You can't tear plain paper into infinite parts and still flood its surface with unending lines of literature, You can't have lecherous fires blazing in your eyes and still have empathy for the deprived, You can't worry baselessly and still make people around you wholeheartedly laugh, You can't maliciously envy your counterparts and still reach the top, You can't drive a truck blindfolded and still be able to reach the other end of the road safely, You can't be sitting in one corner of the dark room and still imagine yourself to be a complete man, You can't develop nerve-wrecking stress and still have blissful peace, You can't apply effeminate lipstick on your lips and still claim to be Tarzan inhabiting the wild, You can't drench yourself wholesomely in the rain and still catch blazing fires the very next instant, You can't draw incongruous lines with your feet and still visualize yourself as the greatest artist, You can't brag like a donkey and still whisper to the society that you were unselfishly polite, You can't keep surging down into deep waters and still view the pinnacle of the tower spiraling high towards the Sun, You can't roll amidst heaps of glittering gold and still cry hysterically that you were poor, You can't walk in stark darkness and still sight your shadow following you at close quarters, You can't have black lizards slithering all over your body and still remain as stoical as frozen ice, You can't lick hard dirt and still find your tongue as clear as the transparent mirror, You can't run like a whirlwind volcano and still feel your heart completely dormant in your chest, You can't sway flirtatiously sighting every girl and still convince your wife that she was the only entity you revered, You can't be oblivious to the first alphabet of English language and still imbibe every word of the colossal dictionary, You can't live imprisoned behind the dingy brick wall and still inhale gallons of blissful air, You can't keep looking at your watch every minute and still announce confidently that you weren't a trifle anxious, You can't emulate every action happening beside you and still cognize yourself to be entirely independent, You can't sit languidly in the air-craft to smoothly glide up the hill and still bellow at the top of your lungs that you clambered up all the treacherous slope standing on your toes, You can't deluge your mouth completely with water and still want jewels to tumble out each time you spoke, You can't have thorns adhered to all parts of your body and still feel yourself heavily soaked in spongy jelly, You can't be a satanic barbarian chopping raw flesh and still imagine yourself to have created new life, You can't bathe in a river of sweet honey and still want the bees to shirk away the instant they sighted you, You can't lie breathless in the stone clad coffin and still come out bouncing radiantly alive, You can't have a reserved heart wandering materialistically and still fall madly in love, And You cant strangulate your emotions; grope uncertainly in a land of cowardice and still lead life

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