#there's a family cemetery behind my neighbor's house so this is going to be easy!

[dlight98]

I love reading about plenary indulgences.

You're telling me that once per day from Nov 1st to 8th I can get all purgatory time removed by praying at a cemetery? And I can only do this once per day? Sounds like something you do in an RPG to get a buff.

[sophiamamamia]

From Mariupol.

Waiting for death

I go outside in between bombings. I need to walk the dog. It constantly whines, trembles, and hides behind my legs.

I want to sleep all the time. My yard, surrounded by high-rise buildings, is quiet and dead. I'm no longer afraid to look around.

Opposite, the entrance to the one hundred and fifth house, number 105 is burning down. The flames have devoured five floors and are slowly chewing on the sixth. In the room, the fire is burning gently, as in a fireplace. Black charred windows stand without glass. From them, like tongues, curtains gnawed by flames are falling out. I am looking at it calmly feeling doomed to die.

I'm sure I'll die soon. It's a matter of days.

In this city, everyone is constantly waiting for death. I just wish it wasn't too scary. Three days ago, a friend of my older nephew came to us and said that there was a direct hit on the Fire station. The rescuers died. One woman had her arm, leg, and head torn off.

I wish that my body parts remain in place, even after the explosion of an air bomb.

I don't know why, but it seems important to me. Although, on the other hand, they will still not be buried during the bombing going on. This is how the police answered us when we caught them on the street and asked what to do with our friend’s dead grandmother. They advised us to put her on the balcony.

I wonder how many more balconies there are with dead bodies laid down?

Our house on Mir (Peace) Avenue is the only one that has escaped direct hits. It has nearly escaped twice when hit by shells, windows flew out in some apartments, but it was hardly damaged, compared to other houses, and it looks lucky.

The entire yard is covered in layers of ash, fragments of glass, plastic, and metal.

I am trying not to look at the huge iron structure that has landed on the children’s playground. I think it's a rocket, or maybe a mine. I don't care, it's just annoying. In the window of the third floor, I see someone's face and I flinch in fright. It turns out that I'm afraid of living people.

My dog starts howling and I understand that now they will shoot again.

I am standing in the daytime on the street, and there is complete cemetery-like silence around me. There are no cars, no voices, no children, no grandmothers on benches. Even the wind died.

However, there are still a few people here. They are lying near the side of the house and in the parking lot, covered with outerwear. I don't want to look at them. I'm afraid I'll see someone I know.

All life in my city has been smoldering in basements. It reminds me of a flickering candle in our basement compartment. It is so easy to put it out. Any vibration or a gentle breeze and darkness will come.

I am trying to cry, but I can't. I feel sorry for myself, my family, my husband, my neighbors, my friends.

I go back to the basement and listen to the vile iron rattle there. Two weeks have passed, and I no longer believe that there was once another life here.

In Mariupol, people continue to sit in the basements. Every day it is getting harder for them to survive. They have no water, no food, no light, they cannot even go outside because of the constant shelling.

Mariupol residents must live. Help them. Tell everyone about it. Let everyone know that civilians continue to be killed.

Written by a resident of Mariupol, Nadiya Sukhorukova, translated by Laura Olla AZ Palmer.

[thelittleukrainianwell-armedgirl]

From Mariupol.

Written by a resident of Mariupol, Nadiya Sukhorukova, translated by Laura Olla AZ Palmer.

Waiting for death

I go outside in between bombings. I need to walk the dog. It constantly whines, trembles, and hides behind my legs.

I want to sleep all the time. My yard, surrounded by high-rise buildings, is quiet and dead. I'm no longer afraid to look around.

Opposite, the entrance to the one hundred and fifth house, number 105 is burning down. The flames have devoured five floors and are slowly chewing on the sixth. In the room, the fire is burning gently, as in a fireplace. Black charred windows stand without glass. From them, like tongues, curtains gnawed by flames are falling out. I am looking at it calmly feeling doomed to die.

I'm sure I'll die soon. It's a matter of days.

In this city, everyone is constantly waiting for death. I just wish it wasn't too scary. Three days ago, a friend of my older nephew came to us and said that there was a direct hit on the Fire station. The rescuers died. One woman had her arm, leg, and head torn off.

I wish that my body parts remain in place, even after the explosion of an air bomb.

I don't know why, but it seems important to me. Although, on the other hand, they will still not be buried during the bombing going on. This is how the police answered us when we caught them on the street and asked what to do with our friend’s dead grandmother. They advised us to put her on the balcony.

I wonder how many more balconies there are with dead bodies laid down?

Our house on Mir (Peace) Avenue is the only one that has escaped direct hits. It has nearly escaped twice when hit by shells, windows flew out in some apartments, but it was hardly damaged, compared to other houses, and it looks lucky.

The entire yard is covered in layers of ash, fragments of glass, plastic, and metal.

I am trying not to look at the huge iron structure that has landed on the children’s playground. I think it's a rocket, or maybe a mine. I don't care, it's just annoying. In the window of the third floor, I see someone's face and I flinch in fright. It turns out that I'm afraid of living people.

My dog starts howling and I understand that now they will shoot again.

I am standing in the daytime on the street, and there is complete cemetery-like silence around me. There are no cars, no voices, no children, no grandmothers on benches. Even the wind died.

However, there are still a few people here. They are lying near the side of the house and in the parking lot, covered with outerwear. I don't want to look at them. I'm afraid I'll see someone I know.

All life in my city has been smoldering in basements. It reminds me of a flickering candle in our basement compartment. It is so easy to put it out. Any vibration or a gentle breeze and darkness will come.

I am trying to cry, but I can't. I feel sorry for myself, my family, my husband, my neighbors, my friends.

I go back to the basement and listen to the vile iron rattle there. Two weeks have passed, and I no longer believe that there was once another life here.

In Mariupol, people continue to sit in the basements. Every day it is getting harder for them to survive. They have no water, no food, no light, they cannot even go outside because of the constant shelling.

Mariupol residents must live. Help them. Tell everyone about it. Let everyone know that civilians continue to be killed.

[ravenkings]

I go outside in between the bombings. I need to walk the dog. She's whining, shivering, and hiding behind my legs. I want to sleep all the time. My yard, surrounded by high-rise buildings, is silent and dead. I'm not afraid to look around anymore. 

In front of me, the entrance to building #105 is burning down. The flames already devoured five floors and are slowly chewing the sixth. The fire in the room burns as delicately as in a fireplace.

Black charred windows are windowless. Curtains torn by the fire fall out of them like tongues. Calm and doomed I look at it. I am sure I will die soon. It is a matter of a few days. In this city, everyone is constantly waiting for death. I just want it not to be too scary.

Three days ago, a friend of my older nephew came to us and told us that there was a direct hit in the fire department. Rescuers died. One woman got her arm, leg, and head torn off. I dream that my body parts will remain in place, even after the aerial bomb explosion.

I don't know why, but I think it's important. Although, they won't bury during hostilities. That's what the police told us when we asked what to do with our friend's dead grandmother. They advised to put her on the balcony. I wonder how many balconies have dead bodies on them?

Our home on Mira Avenue is the only one without direct hits. It was hit twice by a shell, in some apartments windows were blown out, but it did not suffer much compared to other homes. 

 The whole yard is covered with layers of ash, glass, plastic, and metal fragments. I try not to look at the iron thing that flew into the playground. I think it's a rocket, or maybe a land mine. I don't care, it's just unpleasant. I see someone's face in the third-floor window, and I shudder. It turns out that I am afraid of living people.

My dog starts howling, and I realize that they're going to shoot again. I am standing outside in the daytime and a cemetery silence all around me. There are no cars, no voices, no children, no grandmothers on the benches. Even the wind is dead. A few people are here, though. They lie on the side of the house and in the parking lot, covered with their outer clothing. I don't want to look at them. I'm afraid I'll see someone I know.

All life in my town is smoldering in basements right now. It's like a candle in our shelter. Putting it out is so easy. Any vibration or breeze and the darkness will fall. I try to cry, but I can not. I feel sorry for myself, my family, my husband, my neighbors, my friends. I go back to the basement and listen to the ugly scraping of iron. It's been two weeks, and I don't believe that there was ever another life. 

There are still people in the basement in Mariupol. It's getting harder for them to survive by the day. No water, no food, no light, they can't go outside. The people of Mariupol must live. Help them. Spread the word. Let everyone know that civilians continue to be killed. 

–Nadia Sukhorukova, resident of Mariupol, Ukraine (x)

[arcane-apathy]

Part 1 

Next

AN: Part 1 of 3 for this Male Naga X Female Reader. I’m hoping to get better at writing short stories, but it’ll take some practice. I hope y’all enjoy! 

Warning(s): N/A

 You didn’t know why you decided to leave home but your mind was already made up and the U-Haul was already packed. There was no going back now. You didn’t want to be a big city nurse anymore, and you also didn’t want to move back to your hometown. So, this year you decided to move to New Mexico, specifically Peralta. A town of a little over three thousand people. The eastern half of town right on the border of the Isleta Pueblo Reservation, and the Rio Grande River to the west. You could even see the Manzano Mountain Range in the distance. 

  The drive to Peralta was taxing, but unbelievably beautiful. No wonder why New Mexico is called The Land of Enchantment. You made it to your new home in the middle of the day, and the sun was high above you. Of course you decided to move in the middle of summer, the dry heat smacking you in the face as you got out of the rental truck. You shielded your eyes from the sun as you stared at your new home. 

  The property was near the end of a dirt road, about a city block away from the local cemetery. But you didn’t mind, in fact it made the house even cheaper.  You’d just have to remember to cleanse the house whenever you got a chance. The house was a simple one-story pueblo style house, the faux-adobe outside was an ivory color, and the windows were painted pear green. It lacked the wooden vigas, making it obvious that it wasn’t an actual pueblo home. The house was small, the yard was huge, it had a detached stainless-steel garage, and a dirt driveway. All surrounded by a chain link fence with a gate. 

  It didn’t take you long to unload the U-Haul, considering you sold most of your things before you moved. You lay your mattress on the bedroom floor and the majority of boxes stay in your living room. You look at the time on your phone, there was still two hours until the U-Haul’s scheduled return time. Un-packing wasn’t the first item on the agenda, some serious cleaning needed to be done before you thought about anything else. 

  Granted the house wasn’t in horrible shape, but it was obvious that it’s been a few months since anyone has lived in it. The air was stuffy, there was dust on everything, and there was dirt all over the floors. You search for your bag of cleaning supplies that you bought at a Wal-Mart in Albuquerque, well prepared to clean. With the house being so small, it didn’t take you long to clean, so you took your time admiring your new home. The house was made in the seventies, the Spanish-style linoleum tiles in the kitchen being the proof. Yet it didn’t look like it came out of a home magazine that your grandmother would've read. There were some obvious updates throughout the years. Thankfully central air was one of them. 

  You returned the U-Haul and the towing dolly on time, driving your car back home. You stopped at a Domino’s on the way home, not yet ready to try the local food. Unpacking was the only thing on your mind. And no surprise to you, it took all night. Packing wasn’t easy, because you had to take things from their place and sort them into boxes. Unpacking was another challenge, the amount of times you switched which cabinet your plates went in was frustrating. By two in the morning you had everything put away, there were sheets on your bed, and your eyelids were heavy.

                                                      ~~***~~

  It’s been a month since you’ve moved, and you’ve loved it more that you’d ever thought. Living in your one bedroom house was a dream compared to any other apartment you’ve had before. You’ve gotten over the linoleum in the kitchen, and you couldn’t even imagine the house without it. The yard was easy to maintain, considering it was primarily dirt. You didn’t see much of your neighbors but they were nice from what you could tell. And the quiet was refreshing. 

  You spent most of your days at work, a health center in the middle of the Isleta Pueblo Reservation. The work was tough, and didn’t pay much, but it was obvious that they needed you there. According to your co-workers everyone wanted to work in the big cities and that smaller health centers, especially ones for the native populations, were constantly understaffed. You became a licensed practical nurse because you wanted to help people, and working in an at risk community fulfilled that goal. 

  To say you were surprised when your co-worker invited you to her birthday party in Albuquerque was an understatement. Although you didn’t know her that well, you still went. You needed socialization outside of the workplace and the occasional video calls with your family back home. So, you put on your best outfit and did your best to look presentable. The night started off at a restaurant, the food was amazing, and the company was actually enjoyable. After dinner you all went to a bar, so far it was a typical birthday party for a bunch of girls in their twenties. 

  You stood against the wall, nursing a drink as everyone else in your group dance. Normally you weren’t such a party pooper, but these girls weren’t much of your crown. It was too early in the night to go home, and they all knew that you didn’t work tomorrow so you couldn’t use that excuse. Hence why you resorted to people watching. The bar was packed with humans and non-humans alike, all dancing with each other. There were already a few couples sharing face in the darker corners. 

  “You look bored,” a blunt voice shook you from your daze. You look to the side, noticing as a tall man slithered up to you. Not metaphorically. Your eyes instantly gravitated to his tail, the bulk of muscle trailing closely behind him as he moved. You couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the pattern of his scales. The base was beige and was decorated in an assortment of splotches all in varying shades of brown, and at the very end of it all was a black rattle. He laughs at your reaction, “have you never seen a Naga before?” 

  “Not up close, there weren’t that many back home,” you flush a little as you are caught staring. Which wasn’t a lie, you didn’t see many growing up, nor did you encounter a lot at work either. A surprising statistic you’ve learned since you moved is that New Mexico has the highest population of Naga in the United States, with Texas as a close second. You have seen a few as you wandered around Peralta and the neighboring towns, but you have yet to talk to them. 

  “Oh, you’re from out of town. How exciting,” he smiles and extends a hand, “Santiago Rosales.” You shake his hand and introduce yourself. His smile grows and the rainbow lights from the dance floor reflect off his fangs. You couldn’t deny that he was an attractive man, tan skin, curly raven hair, a triangular face with a strong jawline, and golden serpentine eyes. You look back at the dance floor and notice one of your co-workers giving you a thumbs up. “So, not to sound cheesy… But why is a pretty chica like you, not out there?” 

  You flush a little at his definitely cheesy comment, “I’ve already done my socializing for the evening, but if I leave now I’ll never hear the end of it at work. What about you, why aren’t you out there?”

  He motions to his tail, “I’m in no mood to get stomped on.” 

  “Oh… I didn’t even think of that. Does it happen often?” 

  “It happened a lot when I was a kid, but I was kinda a wimpy kid too,”

  You raise a brow as you look at how snugly his button up fits to his arms and chest, “wimpy?” 

  “Hey I wasn’t always like this, I was a string bean growing up. It took years for this to happen,” he motions to himself proudly. You laugh and finish your drink, Santiago looks at the empty glass, “may I offer to buy you another drink?” 

  You contemplate it for a second then shake your head, “no thank you, I have to drive home tonight. And I don’t live in Albuquerque.” 

  “Is it too weird to ask where you live then?” 

  “Peralta,” you shrug.

  “Really? My mom lives in Peralta… Maybe I’ll see you around?” 

                                                       ~~***~~ 

  And you did, the first time you saw Santiago was at the grocery store. You were trying to figure out what brand of refried beans to buy when he came down the aisle, slithering alongside an older Naga woman. He didn’t acknowledge you, which made you question whether he recognized you at all. The second time you saw him was at the post office, and he immediately smiled when he saw you. Your heart couldn’t help to flutter at the sight of him. The third time was at the bank, both of you waiting in line at the tellers. 

  The fourth time was when everything changed. You were standing in the bathroom aisle at Target in Albuquerque, looking through the wide array of shower curtain options. You heard your name being called and you looked up, expecting to see someone from work, possibly even a regular patient. But, instead your eyes were graced with the sight of a familiar Naga in a taut shirt and a leather jacket, “oh, hi Santiago.” 

  “Hola, looking for a shower curtain I see,” he smiles as he sidles up beside you.  

  You fluster a little, realizing you were still wearing your baggy maroon scrubs. “Indeed I am, it’s been two months and my house still looks like no one lives in there.” 

  He looks you up and down, his eyes stopping at the embroidered patch above your breast, “you work at Isleta Health Center?” 

  Your brows knit in confusion and you look down at the patch, resisting the urge to face palm, “yes, yes I do. Sorry, I just got off my shift and I kinda forgot I was still wearing this monstrosity.” 

  “You don’t look bad at all if I’m being honest…” 

  Damn he was slick, “it’s not the worst, but I hate how plain it is. I sold all my fun scrubs when I moved, so I’m stuck with the standard issues until I buy more.” He nods and looks at the shower curtains in your hands curiously. “So, what are you here for?” 

  "Uhh… Honestly I don't even know anymore. They didn't have what I needed, so I just started to aimlessly slither around the store. And then I found you." 

  "Aimlessly wandering around Target can be dangerous," you chuckle. 

  "I haven't learned my lesson apparently," he gives you a lopsided smile, "last time it happened I came home with a pillow that had some motivational quote.” 

  “Yikes,” you laugh and put one of the curtains back onto it’s metal hook.  

  “Yikes indeed,” he crosses his arms over his chest as he looks at the options before him. “So, do you have any style in mind.” 

  “Santiago, you don’t need to help me.” 

  “I fear if I don’t help you, you’ll be stuck in the store until it closes,” he teases with a wink. 

  You feel the heat rising to your cheeks, “alright fine. My house is pueblo style, built in the seventies. The bathroom was recently remodeled before they sold it, so the walls are plain, it has normal wood, and laminate tiles that look like travertine. It’s very boring.” 

  “So you need something to spice it up?”

  “Exactly,” you pick up a geometric patterned one, looking at the picture on the cardboard. 

  Santiago shakes his head, "nope", he takes it out of your hand and puts it back. You look at him dumbfounded by how brash he was. He puts another one in your hands, “this one looks like you.” 

  You look down at the curtains, it was a simple floral. But with the way the bright flowers were stylized like they were from an Alfredo Ramos Martinez painting. “This is cute.” 

  “You look like a floral person.” 

  “How does one look like a floral person, without being an actual nymph?” He shrugs and you simply roll your eyes, “you’re lucky I tolerate you.” 

  He winces, “just tolerate?” 

  “Well, I don’t know you that well…” 

  “Then let's get to know each other,” his posture straightens. “Why don’t we go out for a coffee someday, as a date?” You must’ve stared at him like he grew another head because he immediately fell back on his statement, “or not a date?” 

  “No… A date is fine.” 

  “Is it?” 

  “Definitely.” 

  “Then why are you still looking at me like that?” 

  Your face instantly turns a scarlet color, “I… It's been awhile since I’ve been on a date. So, the fact that you are asking me on a date, in a Target, is mind boggling.” 

  “Do you want me to ask you outside the Target?” 

  “That’s not the point,” you sigh, trying to steady your breathing. “So, a date?” 

  Santiago smirks, “give me your phone.” You scowl and he shrinks at your stern gaze, “por favor?” Reluctantly you unlock and hand him your phone, watching as he makes himself a contact. “Text me when you get home, I should have a fantastic plan by then.” 

  “No coffee?” 

  “Nope, you deserve more than a coffee.” You flush again as he smiles victoriously, “I’ll let you get back to shopping so you can get home at a decent hour. Talk to you soon, cariño.” You watch as he slithers out of the aisle with a wave over his shoulder. You can’t help but stare, looking at the end of the aisle then back at the curtains in your hand. For some reason, the bright flowers just felt right. So, you put the package into your basket and head off to find the next item on your list. And you couldn’t wait until you got home. 

[elvenstar146]

Time Doesn’t Heal All Wounds

Author’s note: I don’t own these characters but they are so much fun to write about.

Characters: Edward Elric, Winry Rockbell, Granny Pinako, Alphonse Elric

 Time Doesn’t Heal All Wounds

                 Winry and Edward were living in their new home that was built on the Elrics’ previous home. They had just celebrated their first wedding anniversary, and Winry was 5 months along with their first child. Edward would stay and write at their house while Winry went to work at her grandmother’s.

Winry walked with their puppy, Eva, to her grandmother’s home, and arrived to a quiet house that normally would smell of breakfast and smoke from a pipe. “Granny? Are you up yet?” She yelled upstairs. ‘Maybe she overslept.’ Winry walked up the stairs to her grandmother’s door. She knocked, and asked if she could come in. No response. “Granny, I’m coming in.” Winry walked into the room and saw her grandmother laying in bed. “Granny, it’s late. We have some orders to work on.” She walked to her bedside and noticed the stillness. “Granny, are you okay?” She shook her shoulders and noticed that the elderly woman was cold. “Granny….” Winry felt for a pulse on her neck, and couldn’t find one. She brought her hands to her face. “No…. You’re not supposed to go yet. Granny, you said you would help me.” The tears started falling. She sat on the bed, and cried. ‘How can I do this without you? We still need you.’ Winry thought to herself. Her dog put her head in lap to try to comfort her.

Winry collected herself, and made her way to the telephone. She dialed her house number, and waited for Edward to answer. “Hello?” he answered, sounding irritated. “Edward! I need you to come to Granny’s house now!” she yelled into the phone, and started crying again. “Winry! What’s wrong?” “It’s Granny. She’s gone.” “Gone, what do you mean gone? Did she go into town?” Then the realization hit him. Winry was crying too hard to answer. “Winry, I’ll be right there. I have to hang up now, okay?” “Ok.” She weakly replied. ‘Oh shit!’ he thought. ‘This was not a good time for this.’ He thought about his pregnant wife while he was running to the house.

He found her sitting next to the phone still. She looked up at him and started crying harder. Edward sat next to her on the couch, and let her cry into his chest. He still couldn’t believe it. Edward trusted her judgement but once she calmed down, he went upstairs to verify for himself. They made the appropriate phone calls to the doctor and undertaker to make arrangements. Next was making phone calls to family and friends. Edward did most of the phone calls so Winry could rest. It was really hard to her to tell people without bursting into tears. He called Alphonse knowing there was no way he would be back from Xing in time for a funeral but Al did promise to be there when the baby was born.

Later that evening, Edward and Winry went home to rest. It had a been a long emotional day for both of them. Winry just wanted to go to bed even though she wasn’t sure if she would sleep. There was a light knock on the door shortly after they got home. Edward answered the door, and it was one of their neighbors offering their condolences, and a pot of chicken noodle soup. Winry met them at the door, and thanked them for the soup. Their neighbor told them if they needed anything, to let them know. Edward brought the soup into their kitchen, and made them each a bowl. He sat them on the table. They sat at the table but Winry didn’t start eating. “I’m not really hungry.” She said with her eyes staring into her lap. Edward was worried. She hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. He took her hand. “Winry, you need to eat something. It’s not just you that I’m worried about.” He put their hands on her pregnant belly to remind her that it needed nourishment. “Please.” Edward was practically begging her. She nodded in affirmation, and began to eat. It was the most quiet dinner they ever had together.

Three days later, Edward and Winry were getting ready for the funeral when another knock on the door was heard. They had a lot of visitors from town visit over the past few days so it was becoming normal to have people constantly visiting. Edward opened the door, and he was surprised. “General Mustang! What are you doing here?” He also saw Riza and Armstrong behind him. “We’re here to pay our condolences.” They were in black suits and Riza wore a dress. Winry came downstairs after putting in her pearl earrings that Edward had gotten her. She was surprised, and offered them to come inside. Riza and Winry hugged. “You didn’t have to come all this way.” “We wanted to. We know this is hard for you.”

At the funeral, Winry held on to Edward at his side. She was crying even though it felt like she couldn’t cry anymore. ‘This is harder than I thought it was going to be.’ Edward thought as he held his grieving wife. Even his eyes got glossy. Granny was the one that had taken them in when Trisha had died. She was a grandparent to him, too.

Everyone at the funeral went to Pinako’s house. So many clients had shown up, and their friends from Central had come down. Winry asked Riza “Where are you staying tonight?” “We were going to get a room at the Inn.” “Nonsense! Come stay with us tonight. We would love to have you, right Edward?” “Wait, seriously?” He looked into Winry’s eyes as she pleaded him with just a look. “Fine, they can stay.” He couldn’t say no to her today.

Everyone said their goodbyes, and Edward and Winry and their Central friends went to their home for night. And the next morning, Edward got up and made pancakes for their full house. He wanted Winry to sleep in because he knew she hadn’t slept well. He heard her get up in the middle of the night, and found her reading a novel. At least she was eating now even if she had to be reminded. Mustang found him cooking, and was amazed that Edward knew how to operate a stove. “Well of course I can cook. Sometimes, Winry gets breakfast in bed.” Riza elbowed Mustang. “I wish I got breakfast in bed.” Edward smirked because he had gotten Mustang in trouble with his new wife. Winry came downstairs, and was happy to have breakfast made for her. They all made light conversation, and the new baby was an easy topic. No one really wanted to talk about why they were here to visit. Yesterday was an emotional overload.

Their guests stayed a few days because it seemed to cheer Winry up to have them there. Once they were gone, Winry had to learn how to live without her grandmother’s constant companionship. Winry would want to tell Granny something but then remembered she was gone. She cried a little every now and then but it was getting better. But the hardest thing was she was so tired. She would take a nap every afternoon but wake up in the middle of the night, and stay awake for an hour. Edward got used to her leaving their bed and reading downstairs a little bit to distract her mind. Then she would come back when she got tired again. He didn’t know if this was the pregnancy or grief, or maybe a combination of both. He noticed that some days were easier than others but some were still difficult. He knew they would get through this. He helped more with the housework and cooking meals so Winry could rest more.

A few months later, Winry was eight months pregnant. She had gotten back to doing her usual work and housework though she was having to adjust to doing certain chores due to her size. She was still having trouble sleeping but she wasn’t nearly as tired during the day. She smiled more, and Edward noticed that she was feeling better.

Edward and her were waiting at the train station for Alphonse to arrive. Al got off the train and hugged Winry first. He looked at her very pregnant belly. “Wow, Winry! You look amazing!” “Aww thank you Al. I needed to hear that. I feel huge!” The brothers hugged and greeted each other.

“I want to go to see Granny now.” Alphonse told them. They all agreed to go together, and bought flowers while they were in town. They arrived to the cemetery, and saw their family’s graves. Al kneeled down and put flowers on Granny’s grave. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here but I’m here now.” Winry put her hand on his shoulder. “She would have understood. She was really proud of the work you’ve been doing.” Bringing a medical alchemy back to Amestris had been one of their goals, and Pinako had been hoping to use it with her patients’ recovery. Now Winry would be able to use it to help her patient’s pain levels.

About 6 weeks later, Winry had her baby. It was few days early but the boy was healthy. Once mother and baby were cleaned up, the brothers and Winry looked at the baby in awe. “Hey little guy.” Al said to the baby. “Don’t call him little! It might bother him.” Edward said to his brother. “Edward, he is little, and so cute.” Winry said as she looked at the baby. Edward was annoyed because he knew he had lost. He took a serious look, and told Winry “You know, she’d be really proud of you.” “Edward, don’t make me cry.” She hit him with her free arm. “I’m sorry but she really would.” “Yeah, Winry. She also knew the baby would be early because brother’s the father.” Winry smiled at that. “I’m not that impatient anymore!” Edward defended himself. “His patience has gotten better.” Winry said with a smile.

Edward saw Winry’s smile, and reflected on how much her smile had changed over the past few months. It didn’t have a hint of sadness in it. The dark cloud had lifted slowly. Time doesn’t heal all wounds. The wounds can leave a scar. They had gotten through a dark period of their lives, and now the sky was clear. Winry would be a little sad every so often but there were still smiles and laughter to be had. Her heart had grown more. She had become wiser, and learned to cherish more because she knew that these moments were precious.

 Author’s note: My mom passed away 3 years ago. I thought a grief story would suit well to the theme of ‘Mending’. There is hope for anyone grieving. There is also help. I had to get help through my grief, and I have no shame in saying that.

[slashyrogue]

Hannigram AU: Pet Sematary

Will Graham moves into Wolf Trap after a breakdown at his job and brings with him his dog, Winston. He’s happy to be out in the middle of nowhere and away from the world, though his neighbor is a bit too interested in becoming friends.

Dr. Hannibal Lecter, former psychiatrist and surgeon, lives just as alone as Will. He’s easy to talk to, almost too much, and as the weeks go by Will begins to feel normal again for the first time in a long while.

They open up to each other, sharing stories, and Will learns about the rundown little cemetery behind his house.

“It’s a place where the dead speak,” Hannibal says, frowning, “The...local legend says that it was built on sacred burial ground. Promise me you won’t go there, Will.”

He smiles. “Why would I?”

“It’s a cemetery for pets that’s gone unused for a very long time.”

“I don’t plan on having a dead pet, Dr. Lecter.”

“No one plans on death, Will. That place, it’s...not meant for anyone to use.”

“You speak like you have experience with that.”

“I had a pet,” Hannibal sighs, “Artemis. She was a cat I had when I was a boy. We moved here when I was eleven and she got loose. I buried here there and then one evening she came back.”

“She came back to life?”

“She was outside waiting for me, covered in dirt, and she...was different.”

“Different how?”

Hannibal sips his wine. “Not herself,” he said softly, his fingers gripping his glass, “I should not have buried her there, but I did.”

“And she...”

“She’s in a better place now,” Hannibal said, taking another long sip, “And even when my family died I did not bury them there no matter the temptation. Sometimes, dead is better.”

Then three weeks later Winston is hit by a car. It’s late when he lets the dog out that night, and the bunny that runs in the road comes out of nowhere.

So does the truck.

Will doesn’t even think.

He just goes.

Winston won’t be like Hannibal’s cat.

Will knows how to handle him. He’s a good trainer. All a difficult dog needs is good training. He buries Winston in the middle of the Pet Sematary with ran pouring down, his hands aching as he digs in the mud, and when he finishes the tears are still flowing.

Hannibal is waiting outside Will’s house when he returns.

“Will...I heard you yelling,” he says, running up, “What’s happened?”

“I had to,” Will whispers, his voice shaking, “I...I had to.”

The look Hannibal gives him makes Will’s chest ache.

“I’m sorry I told you.”

“Winston will be different than Artemis,” Will says, pushing him away, “He’s a good boy.”

Hannibal says nothing and Will crashes exhausted on the bed.

He wakes up to the sound of barking and runs to find Winston standing on the porch.

“Hey boy,” he says, tears in his eyes, “Hey...you hungry?”

The growling is guttural, angry, and when Will takes two steps toward him Winston tries to bite him. He pushes him back, heart hammering in his chest, and tears fall down his face.

“Winston, it’s me,” he whispers, “It’s...”

“Will, DON’T!”

Will turns to see Hannibal walking toward him carrying what looks like a steak. He tosses it over to Winston who runs to start eating. The mangled growls seem less feral now, and while he’s distracted Will runs over to Hannibal.

“What did you give him?”

Hannibal sighs, wiping his hands. “I need to show you something.”

Will nods, looking back at the dog, who doesn’t seem to even notice he’s there. He follows Hannibal into his house, still the nicest place he’s ever been.

“What’s going on?”

“I should have told you,” Hannibal says, “When I told you the story I shouldn’t have kept the rest from you.”

“Hannibal, what are you talking about?”

Hannibal sighs and walks toward his basement door. “Come.”

Will hesitates. “Just tell me what’s going on? What did you give Winston? What’s in that steak?”

“I’ll show you.”

He shakes his head. “Tell me now.”

Hannibal doesn’t move. “If you want to be able to control your pet you need to come down to my basement. This situation is not ideal but if you truly love him, your Winston, you’ll trust me just this once.”

Will takes a deep breath that he lets out slowly.

“Fine.”

The basement is dimly lit when they get down, and mostly empty save for some freezers, a metal table, and one other thing.

A gray cat lies sleeping in a cage.

“Artemis?”

“Yes,” Hannibal says, walking over, “She’s been a constant companion for me these many years though the only times she’s affection are when I bring her what she desires.”

The cat lifts her head on his approach and Hannibal reaches into his pocket for a bag of what seems to be raw meat. He crouches down before tossing in a few pieces and she eats them, letting him rub his hand along her flank.

“What...does she desire?”

Hannibal turns to him. “Human flesh.”

Will backs up. “What?”

“It’s all they know, Will,” he says, as Artemis purrs, “And what they need. Artemis...is the only family I have left. I couldn’t let her die, you see, and in time...I grew to enjoy the taste myself.”

Tears fill Will’s eyes. “I...”

“How much do you love your pet, Will?”

Will thinks about seeing Winston lying in the road not moving and a tear falls down his cheek. “More than I’ve ever loved anything.”

“So far,” Hannibal says, standing up, “More than you’ve loved anything so far.”

He laughs. “What’s that mean?”

Hannibal walks over to Will and reaches out to touch his cheek.

“The soil of a man’s heart is stonier: a man grows what he can and tends it,” he purrs, fingers brushing Will’s cheek, “Men like us...once we’ve grown to love something...we tend to that love, hoping it never ends.”

Will shakes his head. “I...”

Hannibal leans in so close that Will can feel breath across his lips.

“The world is full of people who deserve to be meat, Will. I promise you that it won’t be hard. Your darkness...I’ve seen it since that first moment we met. All you needed was a reason.”

Will can barely see for his tears. “I don’t want to be a monster,” he says, his voice thick, “I don’t...I can’t...”

He watches Hannibal’s eyes seem to turn black in the light. “Monsters are just like everyone else, Will. They need love too.”

[hollywood3015]

Apocalypse BaCC Ruleset

I've always wanted to try my hand at an Apocalypse Challenge but could never get behind the whole only one family thing. I am a avid rotational player. One family just bores me, so I came up with this challenge. This is based off of my own rulesfor the Bacc and not the original or one of the many variations.

Starting Out:

-Create a new neighbor and create your three founders. They can be families or single it doesn't matter.

-The three founders may NOT go to college. That would make the challenge way to easy.

-Build and Buy mode tabs are NOT allowed after you build the families house. Not even for a baby crib so make sure you factor that in when you make their house.

-The bunker can look however you want it to. It does not need to be up off the ground nor does it need to be 8x8 but you may only have a max of 3 rooms until Architect is unlocked.

-Sims may not have a stove, they must have the cheapest grill and Fridge.

-No sims may sleep outside.

-The lot must be enclosed by a fence.

-Only 3 restrictions may be unlocked a generation

-No Electronics may be used. Only the cheapest fridge and cheapest fridge

-Basic Electricity is unlocked when a sim has Max mechanical and level 8 logic. Once that is done $3500 must be paid from town funds.

-Taxes must still be paid. It can be whatever percentage you want but it has to be consistent.

-No smoke detectors, sprinklers, burglar alarm

-To unlock running water you must get level 5 cleaning and level 5 logic. That enables sinks.

-Basic airport is your ticket out of the city. If you plan for your kid to go to college you must have a basic airport. You must pay $25,000 dollars. With a basic airport you get:

Flooring

Wallpaper

Adopt Stray Pets

Higher quality furniture that has been unlocked.

-No cars, service sims, or delivery service.

-Pet adoption is unlocked when a pet store is opened.

-Nanny is unlocked when business is unlocked, and there 5 teenagers in town.

If you want to get more households:

SIM MULTIPLIER

+1 When the first community lot is built+1 When you have basic electricity+1 When you have plumbing+2 When you get an Airport+1 With every 5 community lots after+1 A sim tops a career. (maximim 1 per household)+5 Downton+10 University (Multiple universities are allowed)+13 For every business district.

-Community lots:

Are unlocked when the business career is topped.

-Downtown:

Is unlocked when the political career is topped and $100,000 dollars has been paid.

Universities:

Are unlocked when there is an airport and a population of 1,000

RESTRICTIONS

-Hopelessness

You cannot move in anyone until someone tops the career.

-Adventure

Sims may not go on vacation

-Architect

Sims may not move out until this career is topped.

Businesses may not be built until this career is topped

-Artist

A position opens when a sim maxes creativity

Sims may not use workbenches or the potty/clothing bench

Sims may not open any art type business or have any paintings on their business

No deco items may be placed

-Athletic

For teens and elders to leave the lot they must have level 10 body skill.

Can NOT have a gym or workout equipment on their businesses.

Cannot move anything bigger than one tile

Items received as date or outing reward may be moved once no matter how big they are but after that they may not be moved again. If they are restricted items they may be moved to inventory but not sold.

Sims may not sell items on community lots that are bigger than one tile

Sims may only sell things they made

Gym equipment may not be used or purchased

Sims may carry no more then three items in their inventory

-Slacker

Sims may not use vacation days

Sims who miss a single day of work lose the job

If a sim loses a job they may never take that job

No clubs community lots may be built or owned

Elders may never retire

You may not ignore chance cards

-Science

Sims may not use the phone unless it is tuesday

No cell phones or computers may be used or purchased

Sims may not use the robotics bench or have servos

You may not call the exterminator

No lights

No trash compactor or bass or guitar

-Politics

Sims may only have 3 rooms in there house

NO downtown may be unlock

Sims may not go to college

May not have a cemetery

No basements

May not have a second floor

No vacation hood

May not influence other sims

-Paranormal

May not plead with grim reaper

No cemetery lot

May not move a grave. If a sim dies somewhere the grave must stay there

May not place graves or urns into inventory

May not use the resurrect-o-nomitron

-Natural Science

No landscaping items

No gardening trees

May not own a pond

May only have a 4 plot garden that has to be enclosed with a fence

May not alter the ground color

May not flatten the lot

May not use fertilizer

No cow plants

No chef salads

No telescopes may be used

Sims may not watch clouds or stargaze

No flower arranging bench

No Greenhouses

-Business

Businesses may not be opened (home or community)

You may not sell items via buy and build tab.

May not sell paintings or workbench items.

Sims may not hire service sims

May not use workbenches

-Dance

Sims may not dance.

Sims may not do tai chi or meditate

Sims may not use the ballet bar or the dance sphere

Stereos may only be used to build body skill

Sims may not have a club business or a business where they sell music.

-Entertainment

Sims may not throw parties or use the entertainment menu

Sims may not buy anything from the party tab

Sims may not use the karaoke machine (also restricted by Artist and Science).

Sims with televisions are limited to the Yummy Channel, the Workout Channel and the News/Weather Channel.

Sims may not read a book unless it is a skill building book

Sims may not have wedding parties

Sims may not use wedding archs

May not place a wedding venue.

No toy crafting bench

Sims may not have a business with instruments or a microphone.

-Intelligence

Sims may not perform any action from the Ask pie menu that came with Nightlife.

Sims who are not friends with a member of the household may not enter the house.

Proposals to move in may only be offered by the Sim who is in love and will produce the next generation with the new household member.

Sims may not accept blind dates, jobs, or contact numbers from social townies.

Sims may not chat online, send emails, or blog.

Sims may not hire employees.

Sims may not give gifts.

Sims may not visit community lots alone—they must take a friend or family member along.

Sims may not Search for UFOs or Summon Aliens.

Sims may not go on vacation at all.

-Law Enforcement

Your sims may not purchase a smoke detector, sprinkles, burglar alarms, car alarms.

Sims may not use the emergency tab on their phones.

Teens and Elders may not go to college

Can not call the police to look for runaway teens.

-Medical

Showers and tubs may not be used

Dishwashers may not be built

Hot tubs, water wigglers, and pools may not be used

Sims may not use medicine to get well

If a sim gets sick you must roll to determine if they are going to die. 1-5 is live/ 6 is die

Whenever a sim woohoos they must try for a baby

May not purchase changing tables.

-Culinary

Sims may only buy a cheap grill and and fridge.

May not buy anything from the small appliance category

Sims may only prepare food once a day and may not store food in the fridge

Baby bottles do not count

No gelatin

May not prepare food on community lots.

Sims may not open restaurants or open anything that has to do with restaurants.

No pizza or chinese food delivery

Sims may not open a grocery store.

Sims may not hold food in inventory

NO birthday or wedding cakes

No buffet tables

-Life of Crime

Every Sunday all the sims income has to go into the town funds.

-Military

Sims may not travel to community lots

You may not invite sims over unless you are in love with them

Only a to be spouse may be moved in

No sim may move out

No parties, dates, or outings

Sims may not go to college

Must have level 10 body skill to go anywhere

-Show Business

Sims may not practice romance in mirror

Sims may not change clothes

Sims may not make their own clothes

Sims may not purchase love potion or purfume

Sims may not own a salon

You may not put down a salon type lot

May not use the makeover chair

Diva and Mr. Big may not be moved in

-Music

May not own a stero

May not Smustle

May not classic or slow dance

[shiftyskip]

Edward James “Babe” Heffron

The real Babe Heffron: 

Edward James Heffron was born on May 16, 1923 to Joseph and Anne Heffron in South Philadelphia. He was the third of five children in his Irish-rooted family. He had three brothers: James, Joseph Jr., John (called Jake or Jack). He also had one sister named Anna Margaret. He attended a Catholic elementary school, but his parents could no longer afford it after a while and in high school, Babe attended public school Southern Philadelphia High (which he called Southern). He dropped out in his third year, to help with finances. Babe took up betting on horses. Every penny he got off of a horse race, he gave to his mother. 

Babe used to rough house and play football when he was younger, but one day he hurt his hand playing. He says that “my hand and fingers contracted to the wrist and curled under, and I was in excruciating pain from my wrist all the way up the arm.” The pain would come back whenever he used his hands too much. The pain would stay with him for decades, even after the war. 

His friends decided to rent a room, fix it up, and make a dance hall called the Shindig. He and his friends were at the dance hall on December 7, 1941.The brothers decided to tell their parents before enlisting. His father had a talk with them the next day, without their mom. Babe states that, “He told us that we had to fight for our country and for the freedom of those less fortunate than ourselves. He made it clear he wouldn’t accept a slacker for a son and that he was expecting us to do our part.” His father had previously served in World War I, so Babe knew what was expected of him. 

Babe enlisted in August of 1942. His brother Joe was drafted into the Army while Jake and Jimmy were in the Navy. His call to service was on November 7, 1942. Which his official date of when he went on Active Duty. Babe was working at a shipyard in New Jersey at the the time. His job was to help fix up ships to become aircraft carriers and he hadn’t told them about his enlistment. His boss handed him a 2B slip, stating that he did not have to serve because his work served the war effort. Babe ripped it up in front of him. In Babe’s words: “I wasn’t going to shrink from my duty to my country. If my brothers, neighbors, and friends were all going, I wasn’t about to stay behind.

Babe went through Basic at Fort Eustis in Virginia, he was not a Toccoa boy. Meaning, Babe didn’t have the absolute joy of training under Sobel.He was assigned to B Battery, an anti-aircraft unit. He was promoted to a tech corporal and helped prepare future officers for officer candidate school. When he had arrived, he instantly put in the paperwork to become a paratrooper, but was told to finish Basic Training first.  Six to Seven months later, he was given the okay and was on his way to Fort Benning, Georgia. Babe was not in Jump School until January of 1943. In Fort Benning, he was put with 1st Parachute Infantry Regiment, K company.

Night life was limited. The boys spent most of their time by reading, listening to one man’s radio, or talking about home. Lights out was at 10:00 PM and they were up by 5:00 AM. When they did get to have some more time, Babe and others went to the Bama Club nearby. One day, a wife of an officer hosted a competition. Her best jitterbug partner got a bottle of champagne. Babe went up and danced with her. He ended up winning the competition. 

In jump school, Babe made a new best friend, Johnny Julian. Johnny was from Alabama and both men thought the other talked weird since Julian had a strong southern drawl and Babe did not. Babe said, “He was clean-cut, believed in God, believed in everything I believed in, believed his was coming home. We could talk to each other real easy.” Babe and Julian also became friends with J.D Henderson. Together, the three made a pact, that if one died the survivors would have to tell the parents. The trio stuck together through Jump School.

Babe loved jumps, even though his hands provided extra difficulty. He enjoyed the beauty of the day jumps, but disliked the night jumps. Night jumps were dangerous and one night, a plane crashed, killing all the men inside the plane. The night jumps were cancelled at the camp and the men were transferred to Camp Mackall for their final jump. Babe got his Jump Wings in March. 

 He was transferred to Camp Shanks, preparing to go home one last time before heading out overseas. In May of 1944, Babe was headed out overseas. When they reached, Liverpool, England, they had learned that the 101st and 82nd had jumped into Normandy. Babe was not part of the D-Day jump, instead he was a replacement for the troops who didn’t return from that jump. Babe, Henderson, and Julian were all transferred to Easy Company once they returned.

Easy Company’s barracks were in the middle of Aldbourne, England. Babe was told to visit Bill Guarnere. Guarnere, also from South Philadelphia, noticed that when Babe walked in, he walked like a penguin. This walk was like a duck, side to side, which Guarnere recognized as the South Philly shuffle. Guarnere and Babe only lived a short distance from each other in South Philly. 

Babe learned that replacements were not easily accepted. Toccoa Men wanted little to do with the replacements. They had trained together, jumped together, fought together, and mourned together. They didn’t want much to do with a replacement, didn’t talk to them and sure as hell didn’t want to fight with one. Babe was assigned to a Toccoa vet’s gun squad, Joe Toye’s. Joe Toye, unlike the others, didn’t give a damn if Babe was a replacement and accepted him. Chuck Grant was another Toccoa man that accepted Babe easily, even gave him a new nickname: Jigger. Guarnere was also often with Babe, going out to pubs and dances. Even so, Babe stuck with his fellow replacement friends, Julian and J.D. 

Babe and his friends enjoyed their time in England. Babe was often jitterbugging with girls and dancing away. They went to several different dance halls and other places. Even when they were supposed to be watching over the shed that held their chutes, Chuck Grant and Babe never made it to the shed. They never did. They were always off somewhere, enjoying a pub or two. 

During his time at Aldbourne, Babe’s girl back home, Doris broke up with him. She dumped him in a letter because she’d found another man. Babe didn’t much care about it. He hadn’t even visited her before he had left for England on his last weekend pass, saying that a previous weekend with her had been, “the most boring few hours [he] could’ve spent.” The world had a funny sense of humor, because the plane Babe boarded to jump into Holland, was named Doris. 

Babe was eager to jump. Babe made the jump into Holland on September 17. The jump in Holland went easy. Babe helped one mad who’d broken his leg during the jump off the field, but other than that there was not much, if any, combat. The Dutch greeted the paratroopers in celebration. They loved the paratroopers and called them angels from the sky. In Son, they received word to take Eidenhoven. On the route there, a Dutch woman gave Babe a baby carriage for him to carry his supplies in. He did so until Popeye threw his weapons in, then Babe made him push the carriage.

His platoon was the first to enter the city, and he instantly set up his machine gun by a footbridge, facing an entry way into the towns. Dutch underground members asked to attack the Germans instead, and Babe allowed them to. When the Germans appeared, the Dutch attacked them and killed all but one. The injured German was taken as a prisoner, but first a woman asked where he was hurt and when he pointed to his shoulder, she beat him with a hidden brick in her pocketbook and screamed something along the lines of evil at him. Babe said that it made his day.

Babe had many close calls in Holland. In Nuenen, a tank caught on fire and all of the men inside had died, leading it to be driven into the ditch next to Babe. How he escaped, he doesn’t remember. Later on, he thought he was hit but Buck Compton has been hit in his butt, tripped over a wheelbarrow, and hit Babe’s leg on his way down. Guarnere and others eventually rescued Compton.

 To escape the Germans, Babe had to get over a 6 foot hedge. To get over, Babe had to back into German fire and get a running start. As he jumped, his rosary came off of him. Sheehy grabbed his jump jacket and pulled him over the hedge. Babe, reluctantly, was about to leave his rosary behind, but found it inside his helmet. His mother had given him the rosary before he left and he was determined to carry it through the war.

Then he had another close call as the Germans shelled a cemetery he was standing in. One last one was when he was stuck in a ditch, with Germans firing at them. He went to return fire when Guarnere kicked him backwards and back into the ditch, saving him from getting shot while Guarnere himself still stood in the fire. Another close call was in October. Babe witnessed Joe Toye and Jim Campbell go into enemy territory. Toye had called for Babe, but Campbell stepped up instead, telling Babe to stay back. Campbell was hit in the back with a shell and died instantly. Toye was wounded pretty badly. But Campbell stuck out in Babe’s mind, for he had taken the hit for Babe. Babe never forgot him.

One time, when stopped by a river, Babe fell asleep by his machine gun. When he woke up, another paratrooper was peeing on his gun, since it was too dark to see. Babe started screaming and yelling, ready to kill the man. He never did shut up.

Babe was on the front lines for 73 days in Holland. When they reached Mourmelon for their rest. All the boys who were left after Holland got dysentery. Bill, as Babe envies, missed this because he had been hit and taken to a hospital. Even with dysentery, the men continued to train and work. In December, they had all received weekend passes to various towns when Bill ran in with the news that they were leaving, the Germans had broken through the Ardennes. Their weekend passes were off and they were headed into one of the worst winters Belgium had without winter gear. They had no combat gear, no ammo, no supplies. They were headed, unprepared, into the winter.

They arrived outside of Bastogne in the early morning. Their greeting was disgraceful to Babe. They encountered American soldiers fleeing. These soldiers tried to convince them to turn back. It was a disgraceful sight for the men to see. Medical supplies were extremely limited after this. On the way up, the 101st medical company was captured, but Babe offered to go get more supplies with another soldier. On the way back, when dark gave them cover to move around, Babe suggested they take a shortcut through the woods. Babe fell into a hole he didn’t see in the dark, snowy forest. Below him, a voice asked, “Hinkle, Hinkle, ist das du?” 

Babe scrambled out of the foxhole and yelled, “Hinkle your ass, Kraut!” And then he ran. 

Babe attended Mass in the snow one day when Father Maloney came up. They took communion in the snow and used the Father’s jeep as an altar. Skip Muck was in front of Babe once, after the communion, Babe said: “At least if we die, we’re going to die in a state of grace.” Skip agreed with him. 

They lost track of days out in Bastogne. It was a despairing, never ending situation. But the boys were determined. Babe states that, “If our general would have said, “Drop your weapons,” I don’t think a man in the 101st would have surrendered. Wouldn’t have happened. I think they would have gone against his orders. As bad off as we were. as cold as we were, as hungry as we were, I don’t think an American Airborne soldier could throw down his gun.” The armored division, according to Babe, likes to believe they saved the Airborne at Bastogne. But Babe says all they did was end the siege. The paratroopers were there before, during the fighting, and after the fighting. 

Joe Toye and Babe had another close call on New Year’s Eve. At exactly midnight, the artillery started shelling the Germans. But the shells started falling short and were landing right in front of Toye and Babe’s foxhole untl Toye called the men in charge and told them to aim better. Turns out, Joe Toye has shit luck, because he was hit in a German air raid by shrapnel the next day. He came back the next morning. 

Eisenhower, much to the dislike of the paratroopers, decided to launch an offensive on Foy and Noville. This extended their stay in the bitter cold, when they thought they were going to be relieved soon. Needless to say, not many were happy. 

The same day, January 1, Babe received word Julian had been hit. Babe ran to where Julian was. The Germans had shot him through the throat and whenever someone tried to move towards Julian, they fired at them. Babe couldn’t get Julian away from the Germans. Julian had wanted his class ring, wallet, and watch to be returned home if he died, but Babe couldn’t reach him. Julian died in the snow and Babe couldn’t reach him. When the Germans were finally pushed back away from Julian, his patrol members told Babe he could visit Julian’s body if he wanted. Babe couldn’t do it. He refused because he couldn’t stand to see Julian that way. His only relief was that Julian hadn’t suffered long.

Times were tough for Easy. Although Toye came back January 2, the day after Julian died, the same day Hoobler accidentally shot himself and died. Babe says he was gone before they got him out of the forest. January 3, it started snowing and the boys went back into their foxholes in the Bois Jacques forest. They had just reached the foxholes when the Germans started shelling them. Toye lost his leg in the shelling and Guarnere lost his leg trying to help Toye. Babe tried to light a cigarette for Guarnere, not sure how to help the men. He thought they were both going to die. But a kid in a Jeep pulled by with ammo, Jackson pulled a gun on him and told him to take Guarnere and Toye back, probably saving their lives.

January 10, the Germans shelled them again. When the shelling started, Babe was talking to Penkala and Muck in their foxhole, which was a short distance away from his. As the shelling began, Luz ran by. Penkala and Muck yelled for Luz to join them in theirs. But Luz dove into his own. Shortly after that, a shell exploded directly in Penkala and Muck’s foxhole. When Luz and Babe went over to their foxhole, Babe says that it wasn’t normally like how they went, they just evaporated. There was little left, if anything. “They has just vanished into thin air.” Babe, even while mourning the loss of his friends, couldn’t help thinking that it could’ve been him. Babe believes that Muck, much like he said in the communion together, died in a state of grace and he thought of Muck with every communion afterwards.

By Mid January, they advanced on Foy. The well-known story of Speirs saving the day in Foy. They dug in outside of Foy. When they were preparing to advance on Noville, Babe found he could no longer use his hands without splitting pain. He couldn’t hold a gun anymore due to the pain. He had even tried rubbing ice onto his hands to loosen them up, but the pain was too severe. He was in the hospital for 5 days and 4 nights because his calcium was too low. During his hospital stay, he encountered a nurse from South Philly. She said that he looked like an old man. “That’s what war will do, turn a nineteen-year-old kid into a man.” Due to the fact Babe’s hands were so bad, there was nothing the doctors could do. Babe had to go AWOL to get back to Easy, much like his friend Guarnere had earlier in the war.

He hitchhiked his way back to the company. When he got back, Easy was sent to Hagenau to hold the line up there, but they stayed in houses this time. They spent a few weeks there, crossing the river nearby and capturing German prisoners (Jackson died on one of these trips). They had been fighting for two and a half months by the time they were finally relieved and taken back to Mourmelon.

By the end of March, Easy Company was heading out again. They were headed to Germany, the Ruhr pocket near the bank of the Rhine River. The men were going from house to house to search out Germans. Babe had nightmares about for years about an incident that happened on patrol. His orders were to clean out one side of town, when he stumbled upon a bomb shelter. The procedure was supposed to be throwing a grenade in the bomb shelter and then kicking the door open. Babe felt he shouldn’t throw the grenades, and he told the others not to and kicked the door open. He stumbled upon a girl about 20 years old, with toddlers and an old couple was behind her. Babe had nightmares about what would’ve happened if he had thrown the grenade first and accidentally killed them. He says he wouldn’t have been able to live if he had killed them. 

On another patrol, Spina and Babe stumbled upon several men in the house. They had a small jar of money with them. Babe and Spina took the money, which the other men claimed was a payroll, and the next day gave it out to displaced persons (recently liberated from camps) after church. They’d earned it.

They stayed on duty till the end of April. After that, Babe and Easy Company were on their way to Hitler’s Eagle’s Nest. They stopped in Landsberg for a few days, where they learned a Concentration Camp was located. When Easy arrived, the sight was devastating. In his words, “If any of the guys didn’t know why we were fighting, they knew then.” He continues later, “If anyone tells you the Holocaust didn’t happen, or that it wasn’t as bad as they say, no it was worse than they say...It wasn’t fair.” 

Easy Company soon continued after helping liberate the camp and made their way up to the Eagle’s Nest. As they went. they passed many German soldiers surrendering and many dead SS officers. Some took their lives, other times the French killed them, and Easy let them have that. On May 5, Easy took Berchtesgaden and were the first ones in the Eagle’s Nest. There, with little resistance, they looted and drank to their hearts content. Babe didn’t like the drink choices very much, so he didn’t drink much. But he says he did have a glass of Hitler’s champagne. 

On May 7, Babe was directing POW traffic when a car pulled up to him. A German general and colonel sat in it. The general was driving the colonel. The colonel told Babe that the general, General Tolsdorf, wanted to surrender to someone of equal rank and asked Babe to find someone. Babe told him to get out of the car. The general got out of the car and saluted to Babe. Babe didn’t salute back and sent the general on his way to Colonel Sink with another lieutenant. Babe then searched his car and took anything of value with him. Babe later learned that this specific general had been in command of the German troops in the Bois Jacques woods. 

May 8, 1945 the war was over. Easy Company left the Eagle’s Nest and went to Saalfelden, where Babe looted and got a gold sword with a swastika engraved on it, encrusted with stones. He took it with him. They were transferred to Kaprun, where they stayed for several months. There Babe met a small, Polish girl, Annie, from a DP camp. (This was common among the troopers and some even married the women in the camps) Sadly, at the end of July, Babe had to leave. Easy Company boarded a train for France, but somehow Annie had found his train. Annie chased after him, with a small suitcase, and the boys hung Babe out the boxcar by his ankles. Annie gave up chasing him after a while. 

In France, Babe did his last jump, this was a qualification to receive jump pay. The man before him hesitated and when Babe got him out of the plane, Babe had jumped wrong. He was facing the wrong way (towards the motor, not the tail) and his ropes were tangled. Babe panicked and started saying his Hail Marys. He eventually got his legs untangled, his chute opened, and he landed safely. 

Babe was discharged in December of 1945. He arrived back home and meet his brothers, Jimmy and Joe, and his father at a local bar. His mother had suffered a heart attack while he was gone, but she had recovered. Babe went to work when he got home. He only worked 2 jobs, and both of them were with Guarnere. He worked at the waterfront as a cargo checker and clerk. He worked there for 27 years until his retirement. 

Babe returned to playing football every weekend. He played on a team with other veterans from the war. He played with that team until he was 32. He also went back to betting on horses. There’s even one named after him in Ireland. The horse is Babe Heffron, and it jumps hurdles. Babe was pretty amazed by the fact he had a horse named after him. 

A year after the war, Babe went to go find Bill Guarnere. Babe found him shooting dice in the street. Babe immediately jumped on him, forgetting that Bill was wearing a prosthetic leg. Bill told him that he had thought he was the cops at first. Babe and Bill went out for a drink, Babe met Bill’s wife. Babe and Bill were inseparable after that. They attended Easy Company reunions (which Bill started and ran for 60 years) together, went to Europe many times together, worked together. They worked on construction projects and each others houses together. Bill copied Babe’s phrases, to the annoyance of Babe. They even got arrested together. They went to an Holocaust memorial dinner together, where they met survivors of the Concentration Camp Babe helped liberate. Bill was Babe’s best man at his wedding. 

Babe married Dolores Kessler when he was 37. She had three kids from a previous marriage, Dolly, Harry, and Bobby. Two years later, Babe and Dolores had a daughter named Patricia, who they called Trisha. Trish called her godfather, Bill Guarnere, Uncle Bill. 

Babe’s hands healed 23 years after he first got home. His hands never bothered him again. He figures his body was lacking something, and after drinking a lot of milk, he got it. He was never told what was wrong with him. 

Babe couldn’t face Julian’s mother for 12 years. He finally contacted her and he visited her at her daughter’s house nearby. Babe gave her the regimental scrapbook, the only one he owned. Babe broke down, while Julian’s mom remained tough. “She was a better soldier than I was,” Babe said. “I knew Julian was looking down on me saying, “Good job, well done.””

Band of Brothers was published and soon the HBO series was in production. Babe and Guarnere were brought out to meet their actors, who they had only had phone conversations with. Robin Laing, a Scottish actor, was playing Babe. Babe had some concerns on how Robin would play him, especially with the South Philly accent, but they vanished when he met Robin. He even teased Robin about the Philly Accent, but told Robin that he did fine. According to Babe, Robin sounded just like him. Robin even had rosary beads and scapular, just like Babe in the war, which touched Babe dearly. 

Bill and Babe stayed at a fine hotel, with HBO providing an open tab, and invited the actors back for drinks. They drank those poor kids under the table and by the end of the stay, they had a $5,000 liquor bill. in the hotel, Bill and Babe gave away any momentos they could to others. One time, Babe put three shirts on, saying, “I know they ain’t gonna get me this time...”, but by the end of the night both men were in their underwear in the hotel. They had given nearly everything away. Babe even gave Robin his scapular, the very one he’d carried through the war.

Babe had told Richard Speight Jr., who played Skip Muck, about his last communion with Skip. After the communion scene, Speight turned to Robin and said, “Well, Heffron, if we die, we’ll die in a state of grace.” Babe was forever touched by Speight’s actions. 

Babe, although he did not watch most of the series because it was too hard to handle, did have a guest appearance in one of the episodes. He’s seen as a cameo in Holland, when Talbert is kissing a Dutch girl. 

After Band of Brothers, Babe and Bill had a book published together about their story. Brothers in Battle, Best of Friends was published in 2007.

Babe died on December 1, 2013. His ashes, along with his wife’s, were later put in bronze heart and put it a statue dedicated to him in his hometown of Philadelphia. Guarnere also has a statue in Philadelphia, so even in death the two are never far apart. 

[semblanche]

stepping stones - ch 3 snippet

in which i provide some town context/skip around a bit, and patroclus is faced with his old home.

status: sort of edited, but still too melodramatic for the author’s content

(ask to be added/removed from my tag list!)

` ` `

It's a strange feeling, being launched back into the world of time after weeks of going without it. Practically dizzying.

Patroclus almost instinctively looks up, goes to scour the sky for guidance as he has so many times with Mason before, but finds it empty. The town sky hides its sun and stars behind thick, smoky clouds, leaving it to its citizens memories and the tall ivory clock erected in the square to guide their days.

He looks back down and tries to steady his breathing as he makes his way past buildings almost painful in their familiarity. The ground feels all too rough beneath his feet.

One. Two. One. Two.  

The town is empty today.

This should come as no surprise really, given its usual crowd - the town is small by nature, with just enough people to keep it running but not quite enough to keep it on a map. All businesses are family owned, the next generation just as keen to take up their parents crafts as they too were their parents, eager to push the wheel of family forwards and add their own touch to tradition. Exceptions are rare, but not altogether unwelcome. Patroclus is one.

Competition is non-existent in a town so small as theirs. The shopkeeper’s pockets are filled thanks to their solidarity. There's one bakery, one butcher’s shop, one church. There's no cemetery, but a pale thin man drives in every so often, cart piled sky high with shapes poorly hidden under a thick black tarp.

He'll slink from door to door, tall and spindly, more spider than man, and knock on them one, two, three times. The knocks themselves are soft, beats of butterfly's wings, but the townsfolk always know to open before three.

“Bodies, sir, ma'am?” the man will ask, voice low and mournful. “Friends and foes, family and lovers, so sorry for your loss, got any bodies, sir, ma'am?”

And then, at their denial, he'll bow and slink back to his cart just as before, but now with an air of disappointment trailing behind him.

(...)

A woman is walking toward him now, attention occupied by the bags in her hands and the screaming toddler at her skirt. Patroclus thinks he recognizes her, thinks he might detect a trace of familiarity in those tired steps and hooked nose, but just as he passes her her eyes meet his for a moment and she recoils like she's touched fire.

Grabbing the wailing child by the arm, she practically scrambles to the opposite side of the street, shooting him furtive glances over her shoulder.

“Who's that, mom?” he hears the child ask, crying momentarily suspended in favor of curiosity. His mother doesn't answer, just shakes her head and walks a little faster. Patroclus thinks he hears the words “bad” and “butcher” leave her lips as they turn a corner and vanish from sight.

His breath stops in his throat. He feels like he’s trying to swallow a rock.

This has stopped being okay.

He erratically wonders if it's too late to turn back at this point. Mason wouldn't fault him. He might laugh at him, call him a fool or a scaredy cat or whatever “coward” is in Mason, but Patroclus has stayed with him long enough at this point to know the affection that lines his words, know the warm water and sharpened knives that await him after Mason's done with his taunts.

If he turned back…

No, he couldn't. Even if he wanted to.

Mason's not the problem. He's not the problem. Not even his aching legs are the problem.

His father is.

His father, who tipped Mason a hefty palm of coin to take Patroclus under his wing after Patroclus was revealed, if not by choice, to have shamed him as he did. His father, who has made it very clear that he would die with a smile if it meant having lived a life pretending he had no son. His father, who still for some reason has asked for him back temporarily and will most likely get his revenge in twice the worth should Patroclus not obey.

Patroclus hadn't noticed his fists were clenched, but sure enough when he opens his palm there's the proof, little white crescents digging into copper toned skin. It's funny, but he doesn't even feel the sting.

He takes a deep breath. Then another.

Just keep going. Just keep going.

His feet move as if in a daze.

One, two. One, two.

One, two.

One.

This is his neighborhood.

It's turning season for the trees now. Patroclus had almost forgotten.

Their branches droop with fire colored leaves, the air is filled with the musty smell of soon fallen rain. It all tastes like apple cider and sweat and tradition. Patroclus tells himself he hates it, and, if he breathes through his mouth and looks only at the pavement, can almost convince himself.

The streets are surrounded with organized piles of leaves that neighboring Miss Langley will come sweep aside later - she never could stand the mess of a cluttered neighborhood, and the neighbors were always pleased to oblige her.

Patroclus can still remember running out of his house, two or three coins pressed tight in his sticky palm, to pay her as instructed by his mother - and he can still remember the kindly smile Miss Langley gave him as she sent him back home with the same handful of coins, a pocket full of sweets, and a message for his mother that entailed words like “a pleasure” and “no need” and “handsome boy.”

His eyes sting a bit, and he rubs at them angrily. He wonders if Miss Langley would give him the same smile if she saw him now.

He wonders if his mother would.

His mother...

He's tried not to think about his mother all this time, not let his mind wander to the station that that train of thought would inevitably lead to. But now, surrounded by the smell of fall and the worn out familiarity of the streets and only moments away from his house, his old house, it's getting harder and harder to keep her under chains. Or at least the image he has of her.

In his mind’s eye, his mother is still young. He’d always heard people (not many people, mind you, so much as the same handful over and over again - his father had a good name in town, and even his opposition knew better than to try and taint it) say that marrying his father had aged her twice as quick.

“Hard to love,” they'd said, shaking their heads. They'd said it out of ear of his father, but hadn't bothered keeping it under wraps from him, possibly thinking him too dumb to be able to cough the comment back up to any opposing ears. He had taken much longer than most kids to learn to speak. “She's with a man who's very hard to love.”

They'd said it in many different ways, this comment. Some with awe, some with sadness. Some even in a cold, matter of fact way, as if simply stating the weather.

But never, Patroclus had noted, with envy.

And who could blame them?

His father was a hard to love man. And he was a hard to love son, for all the opposite reasons.

But god, if she hadn't made it look easy.

He wants to see her, he decides. Even if she also crosses the room when she sees him. Even if she also locks herself away and closes the curtains. Even if she doesn't smile.

He wants to see her.

He's facing the front door now, its peeling red paint and splintered wood. The knocker taunts him, waits for him to grasp and knock it. As if it's just that easy.

And maybe it is. Maybe it can be.

Patroclus wills everything he's feeling away, all the conflict of emotion that's tying his heart in knots. He wipes his palms on his pants. He swallows, and tastes bile.

Here goes nothing.

And then, just as his nerves are set to steel and his hand is reaching out for the knocker, the door swings open from the inside and he's face to chest with his father.

His mouth goes dry. His father grins at him - or rather, grimaces. His smile is nothing but a sickly yellow slash across his face. There are dark circles under his eyes. His breath smells of drink.

His father doesn't drink.

“Right, then,” his father says, and all the steel will Patroclus had convinced himself he had turns to feathers. “Guess you'd better come in.”

[ilseofskadi]

please validate me this is the only thing i can write and my grades are suffering

Maka can see ghosts; Kid and his dad were murdered and people suspect his brother who disappeared after; Maka finds Kid’s rings and thus gets Kid’s attention; Kid can’t remember anything of his murder but believes it can’t be his brother; eventually Maka begrudgingly decides to investigate the murder.

For as long as she could remember, she could see ghosts. When she was young she was teased by her classmates, the teachers and her parents brushing it off as an overactive imagination and youth. She saw no problem with it, the ghosts were more friendly than anyone else she knew. During recess she would sit at the edge of the playground and talk to the ghosts, and she didn’t have to worry about being bothered as no one would go near her.

Eventually, as she grew up, she learned to keep quiet about the ghosts. Her Mama started telling her it was time to grow up, her Mama started telling her she had to make friends instead of reading, her Mama started telling her things were changing and she couldn’t be around all the time. She didn’t know why that mattered, or why she should have to change; but as she went into middle school she found it better to pretend the ghosts weren’t there in order to keep herself away from the eye of her pupils.

Middle school was hell. Three years of torture. She tried to make friends in sixth grade, but rumors of her being the “creepy ghost girl” got around to the students from other elementary schools and they kept their distance. Bullies found it easy to pick on her quiet and lonely state. It was much easier to sit and let it happen.

This wasn’t to say she had never made friends.

When the grueling years of middle school had passed and she entered the next stage of education, she once again found herself with the opportunity to make friends. Again, old rumors still floated around, but not as frequent as before. She was able to make acquaintances with a few people, but not real friendships. Part of her had resigned to the fact she would never have friends, and she was prepared to accept that. Of course life has a funny way of showing her otherwise.

.

“You’re the ghost girl!” A sudden voice all but shouted, far too close for comfort, and she was surprised she hadn’t noticed anyone before.

Turning slightly, she moved her eyes from the empty lunch table to the three people who had settled in to her side. Two boys and one girl. One of the boys had a foot on the table’s seat and leaned in close, the girl hovering behind him with a nervous expression, the second boy seemed to ignore his friends in favor of sitting down and taking out his lunch. She didn’t particularly want to respond to the rude comment, but seeing as the three weren’t leaving, she had no choice.

“Yeah,” she spoke briskly, wanting to go back to her food, “that’s me.”

The boy’s face lit up and his grin widened almost comically as he leaned back. He dropped himself on the seat —the girl following suit— and pointed a finger at her.

“I knew I recognized ya! Ya know, I used to be in your kindergarten class!”

“Hm,” she could tell where this was going.

“I was always kinda pissed off about you!”

She suppressed a glare, favoring to put away her food.

“Yeah, everyone always talked about you and how weird you were! It was really annoying! Especially when they should have been talking about me!”

This got a raised eyebrow and a pause in her motions as she waited for him to go on.

“I ended up switching schools for elementary so I never saw you again. But now here you are!”

“Yep,” she sighed coldly, “here I am.”

“Hey, hey!” The boy raised his hands mock-defensively. “I’m not here to pick on ya! I’m here to be friends!”

“Friends? Why?”

“Why not? I figure that you’re not the talk of the school anymore, so I don’t have to hate you!”

“That’s…ridiculous.”

The boy just laughed, the girl behind him sighed and the other boy chuckled along.

“Name’s Black Star!” He pointed his thumb in his chest proudly before briefly moving to point behind him. “And that’s Tsubaki and Soul!” Tsubaki gave a polite “hello” and Soul mumbled around his food. “And you’re Maka, right?”

She hesitated. Was she ready for full-blown friendship? Then again, it didn’t look like she had much of a choice.

“Yeah, I am.”

“A’wight!” Black Star cheered, pumping a fist in the air with far too much enthusiasm. “Hey, what classes do you have by the way? We should all compare our schedules!”

.

Black Star, Tsubaki, and Soul turned out to be good friends, she found. Black Star and Soul —those probably weren’t their real names but even the teachers called them that— were loud and outgoing, always pushing her to hang out and do stuff; Tsubaki was kind and passive, almost like a kindred spirit, but one-on-one “girl time” had shown that she wasn’t always so quiet and polite.

Her parents were glad she had finally made real friends. Her Mama told her she was proud and her Papa let out some nonsense about her not having male friends. She just rolled her eyes, still staying in her room whenever she was home. While her parents smiled and acted fine, she knew they had been trying too hard in the past few years. She knew of her father’s bad habits and her mother’s growing distaste for her spouse, but she kept quiet about it as they thought they were being secret enough for her not to know.

So it wasn’t a surprise when her parents announced they were getting a divorce. In fact she saw it as a long time coming, breathing in relief that they weren’t pretending around her anymore. The divorce moved fast, and she was too involved in her academics to notice when it finally ended and her mother had disappeared across the country —or world— leaving her alone with her father.

Outwardly, she just shrugged and accepted it; but inwardly she was in all words pissed. How could her Mama just leave like that? How could she not take her with? Did she think it was better for her? Better to leave her only child behind with her cheating ex-husband? She thought it despicable. Both of her parents were awful. Tsubaki was a ray of shining light in these times. The girl provided a shoulder to scream at, someone to listen to her venting and rants, and she couldn’t be more thankful for the girl’s smooth ability to lie in order to help her.

With all the events whirling around in her life, she had almost forgotten about the ghosts.

.

Deaths were, as a part of life, not uncommon in any town or city. Murders, maybe a little less common, and violent murders were something thought only to be seen in a larger and heavily populated city. Sure, the name of her home city may include the word “death”, but it wasn’t a grim place by far. Maybe, she thought, it was bound to happen eventually, though.

At the edge of town sat a mansion, grand yet somehow also humble, that housed a fairly rich family of three: a father and his two sons. The father’s job was something business like, something that brought in good money; most people preferred not to know what the man’s job was, wanting instead to build up rumors and outrageous ideas on their own. Both of the man’s sons were homeschooled, and none of them were frequently seen around —though it was a possibility that they were out often and it was just that no one knew what they actually looked like.

They family was more of an idea to the people, something to brag about rather than actually see or touch, and it seemed that most people tended to forget they were even there. At least until the event on a Friday 13th happened. Funny, how the date was one that held such superstition was the one when it happened.

Neighbors in the area around the mansion had reported noises loud enough they could be heard from their houses, and later one report of figures running out the back. Police cars and ambulances didn’t arrive soon enough and the city found themselves without one rich family.

The father and youngest son had been murdered, the oldest son missing, and the police department with their first homicide case in who knows how long. Word spread fast and it became the only thing anyone would talk about. Popular idea was that the eldest brother had some mental disorder and finally snapped, murdering his family and running away. The family had a funeral held, hosted by the city, and tension died down. With the bodies buried, people would be able to forget.

.

Hook Cemetery was a fairly poor kept plot of land built next to a thick woods. No one went there unless they had to. It wasn’t as if it was a scary place, it was just that no one wanted to think of the dead unless needed. Despite its poor upkeep and somewhat dreary atmosphere, Maka loved taking walks through the winding paths of the graveyard.

It was a calming place to be, she believed, because no one frequented the place and she could be left alone to her own devices. Normally her devices were just reading or counting the graves. When she was younger she would visit as often as she could to talk with the ghosts, but as she was older she avoided the idea of such a thing.

With school approaching, and her friends being rather annoying, Maka eventually found herself wandering to her old hang-out place. Shrugging, she didn’t bother turning around to go home, instead walking down the old path of the graveyard and glancing at the old tombstones.

A few minutes in to her walk she was startled by a spectral movement in the corner of her eyes. Her heart beat faster before she remembered. She could see ghosts. It had been years since she saw a ghost, but the fact that she could always hung in the back of her mind.

Stealing herself, she ignored the few ghosts that moved silently and kept on her way. When she came to the other side of the land she turned around, her breath tense as she watched some of the ghosts stare at her. Shaking her head, she went on, walking faster and faster away to wherever her feet would take her next. Eventually she noticed she was near the mansion of the dead rich family, a fact she wouldn’t have taken in had she not tripped over something at her feet.

Grumbling, she turned her attention from the abandoned building to the place where her shoes tapped the offending object of her fall. Brushing her hands around the grass she found two silver rings fashioned with a cartoonish skeleton head. She rolled the objects around, slipping the tips of her fingers in their holes briefly in thought. Shaking her head again, she stood up and found herself pocketing the rings. She pulled out her cell phone to look at the time, a slight frown appearing as she decided she’d have to start making her way home.

Continuing to ignore the few ghosts, she went back to her path through the graveyard. In her pockets she fingered at the rings curiously, wondering where they had come from. It wasn’t until a few minutes later, after passing a rather large tombstone, that she noticed something following her. Her breath held and chest tightened, she picked up her pace, stepping off the path in order to cut through faster. Still, she felt herself being followed. Nearing the edge of the cemetery she sped up a little more, only to once again trip over something at her feet.

Cursing her luck, she picked herself up, rubbing dirt from her face in annoyance. What were the chances she’d trip twice in the same hour? What rotten luck she had sometimes.

“Are you alright?” a polite voice asked from behind, causing her to jump to her feet.

Turning around her eyes widened at the figure before her. It was a ghost, that she knew by the little opacity, and she felt regret clawing at her chest for being as stupid as she had been. The ghost seemed to be a boy if her guess was reliable. He had black hair and wore a black suit with no breast pocket; his hands were at his side, almost hesitantly, and he stood straight up yet still leaning forward slightly.

She swallowed and turned away from the boy, the sound of grass ripping out from beneath her feet accenting her departure. If she ignored him he would go away. That’s how it always went. But of course her luck of avoiding ghosts had seem to run out as the boy was soon at her side and walking with her. Still, she tried to ignore him, knowing he wouldn’t be able to follow her out of the cemetery, and that in only a few more steps he would be gone.

Or at least he should have been gone.

Now a good few feet out of the cemetery land, she stopped abruptly in her stride and turned to the boy. He seemed to flinch back at whatever emotion her eyes were showing, but kept himself composed, seeming to wait for her to speak.

“What do you want?” She demanded, fists balling up at her side as if she could fight him off. The boy remained silent, his head tilting to the side slightly in presumed thought. Still not speaking, the boy reached out a hand slowly towards her, causing her to jerk back.

“Stop,” she hissed, “and tell me, what do you want?” The boy looked her in the eyes, a shiver running up her spine as she finally noted the slight glow of what appeared to be gold. Both held their ground for a moment before the boy finally spoke up.

“I’m following you.”

“Yeah, I can see that! Why?”

“…” he was silent again, now looking her up and down as if questioning himself. “I’m not quite sure. I believe…I believe you have something of mine, though. I do not know why.”

“Something of…” she repeated softly, hands moving to her pockets to pull out the rings. “These?”

The boy’s face lit up and he moved as it to grab them, only for his hands to pass through her own. Face falling slightly for a moment, he stepped back before nodding.

“I suppose…you can keep them.” His voice was quiet, as if he was saddened by something.

“Well I don’t want them.”

“Then why did you pick them up?”

She paused. Why did she pick them up? She had no reason to and she very well could have just left them in the grass. Glancing down at the rings in her hands, she turned them around slowly before looking back up at the boy.

“How come you were able to leave the cemetery?”

He was quiet again, this time turning around to see if her words were true. When he looked back at her he seemed confused himself, but still kept quiet in thought.

“Maybe…maybe it has to do with the rings?” He whispered, more to himself than to her.

Part of her wanted to throw the rings as far as she could at that point, to be able to leave him behind and continue to live her life as before; but there was still part of her that seemed to want to know more. It was as if some unconscious part of her wanted to return to the ghosts, to return to familiarity despite how it made her look.

“So are you going to be following me around or something?”

“…I suppose…”

She sighed, pocketing the rings again and placing her hands on her hips. She started off into the sky, rolling around the thought of having ghosts around again. Glancing briefly at the boy she couldn’t help but laugh inwardly at how awkward he seemed. Rolling her shoulders she sighed lightly before taking a breath.

“My name’s Maka,” she said curtly, turning around just after. “If you’re going to follow me around you deserve to know that at least.”

.

By the time she arrived home, silently sneaking in through the back door, it was already late enough for her Papa to have returned home and pass out on the living room couch. She opted to ignore him, walking up the stairs with quiet steps. Reaching her room she opened her door and closed it, making sure to remain quiet, and jumped slightly as the ghost boy phased through the wood. They stared at each other for a moment but it was broken by her turning around and sliding off her shoes. It wasn’t until she was only wearing her shirt and pants —her jacket and socks crumpled over her shoes— that she hesitated with her fingers remained at the bottom of her shirt.

“Um,” she began, nervous on how to choose her words, “are you going to stay there?”

“What do you mean?” While his voice was even in tone she there was still a slight incline at his question. She held back a heavy sigh and threw up her arms, pausing only to make sure her voice didn’t come out too loud.

“I’m about to get undressed!”

“And?” She stared at him in disbelief.

“What, are you a pervert or something?” And that got a reaction from him.

“No! Of course not!” She didn’t say anything in return, only motioning with her hands for him to try and piece together the situation. When it seemed he wasn’t going to understand she opted to grab her pajamas and move into her bathroom to change instead. Thankfully the ghost decided to to follow her, giving her a moment of peace.

Finally letting out a sigh, she slipped her shirt over her head to replace it with her lighter one. As she removed her pants she paused to take out the rings from her pocket. Noticing that there was a fair amount dirt covering them she decided to run the faucet and rinse them. As the dirt washed away she was able to get a better examination of the bands.

At first they seemed almost like the plastic rings you would get from a machine outside of a grocery store, but as the caked layers of dirt was scrubbed away she noticed they were much nicer. They were heavier than plastic, and they probably shined more when they were still in use. The skull that sat on the front was bigger than she assumed, or than what she deemed practical. They seemed to be well made, as no matter how much she pressed on the skulls to clean them they refused to wiggle even slightly. She wondered how much they cost, where the ghost had gotten them, why he chose to have a skull, and why he wanted two.

When most of the dirt had been cleaned from the small nooks she dried them off nicely with a hand towel. She was almost proud of how she had done. Of course that moment shattered as she noticed the ghost next to her, leaning towards the rings. To make matters more awkward, she remembered that she had still yet to put on her pajama bottoms.

The shriek she let out was, upon later realization, not the best of moves, but it succeeded in making the ghost flinch back.

“Wh-what?” The ghost was flustered, not rightly so in her opinion. That privilege belonged to her in this situation.

“Get out!” She was careful to lower her voice, hissing instead of screaming. How the ghost remained to oblivious was honestly a wonder far beyond her grasp. His sight moved from her face to his rings and back several times. At least they didn’t look at anything else, she supposed. Still, she had to get him out.

Huffing, and wishing she could risk yelling, she threw the bathroom door open and lobbed the rings towards her bed. The ghost seemed shocked by her actions and went to where his rings had fallen, giving her the space to shut the door and the privacy to put on her bottoms.

[fcb4]

Currently in Mariupol, Ukraine by Nadia Sukhorukova.

I go outside in between the bombings. I need to walk the dog. She's whining, shivering, and hiding behind my legs. I want to sleep all the time. My yard, surrounded by high-rise buildings, is silent and dead.

I'm not afraid to look around anymore. In front of me, the entrance to building #105 is burning down. The flames already devoured five floors and are slowly chewing the sixth. The fire in the room burns as delicately as in a fireplace.

Black charred windows are windowless. Curtains torn by the fire fall out of them like tongues. Calm and doomed I look at it. I am sure I will die soon. It is a matter of a few days. In this city, everyone is constantly waiting for death. I just want it not to be too scary.

Three days ago, a friend of my older nephew came to us and told us that there was a direct hit in the fire department. Rescuers died. One woman got her arm, leg, and head torn off. I dream that my body parts will remain in place, even after the aerial bomb explosion.

I don't know why, but I think it's important.Although, they won't bury during hostilities. That's what the police told us when we asked what to do with our friend's dead grandmother. They advised to put her on the balcony. I wonder how many balconies have dead bodies on them?

Our home on Mira Avenue is the only one without direct hits. It was hit twice by a shell, in some apartments windows were blown out, but it did not suffer much compared to other homes.

The whole yard is covered with layers of ash, glass, plastic, and metal fragments.

I try not to look at the iron thing that flew into the playground. I think it's a rocket, or maybe a land mine. I don't care, it's just unpleasant. I see someone's face in the third-floor window, and I shudder. It turns out that I am afraid of living people.

My dog starts howling, and I realize that they're going to shoot again. I am standing outside in the daytime and a cemetery silence all around me. There are no cars, no voices, no children, no grandmothers on the benches. Even the wind is dead.

A few people are here, though. They lie on the side of the house and in the parking lot, covered with their outer clothing. I don't want to look at them. I'm afraid I'll see someone I know.

All life in my town is smoldering in basements right now. It's like a candle in our shelter. Putting it out is so easy. Any vibration or breeze and the darkness will fall. I try to cry, but I can not. I feel sorry for myself, my family, my husband, my neighbors, my friends.

I go back to the basement and listen to the ugly scraping of iron. It's been two weeks, and I don't believe that there was ever another life.

There are still people in the basement in Mariupol. It's getting harder for them to survive by the day. No water, no food, no light, they can't go outside. The people of Mariupol must live. Help them. Spread the word. Let everyone know that civilians continue to be killed.

[charliejrogers]

Poltergeist (1982) (Or, an epileptic’s worst nightmare)

Wow. “What a picture!” to quote Al Pacino’s character from Once Upon a Time… In Hollywood. I went into this movie with very low expectations and said to my roommate seconds before we pressed play, “All I know is that this movie has something about ghosts, TV’s, and a little girl who says ‘They’re heeeeeere!’” And if that too is all you know about 1982’s Poltergeist, stop reading and go see this movie for yourself. This movie presents a visual spectacle from 38(!) years ago that can genuinely hold its own with the slickest CGI-fests of the 2010s (and certainly better than the average CGI flick of the mid-00’s.)

Yes, there is a plot to Poltergeist, and I’ll try my best to efficiently condense the complex plot in a succinct sentence: a family’s house is haunted. Yup. That about does it. Let this not be a critique of the film. The plot here merely needs to justify the existence of the film’s visual effects and serve as a link from one show-stopping scene to the next.

If I haven’t made it quite clear yet, this is a visually stunning film, but not necessarily from a cinematography point of view. That said, this movie could be used as a text book for how to make spooky establishing shots (the key? place a spooky object at a slightly askew angle very prominently in the foreground). No, it’s visually stunning from the standpoint of set design and practical effects.

This is really a movie that has three primary sequences and then some interstitial fluff. The first sequence of note is the ghosts’ initial assault of the family’s house including the (legitimately terrifying) abduction of the family’s youngest daughter, Carol Ann, into the paranormal recesses of her closet and the almost-abduction of their son Robbie by being swallowed by a tree. The second major sequence involves the family’s grand and “scientific” attempt to get Carol Anne back from the malevolent spirits, and the third great sequence is the film’s coffins-springing-out-of-graves grand finale as the spirits exact their final revenge on suburbia! Truly, during each of these sequences my heart was racing and my mouth was agape. It says something that even though I knew this movie was rated PG and therefore that it was unlikely that any character would die, the movie created enough suspense that I never safely assumed everyone would be OK.

But can I talk more about the set design for a second? Prior to this movie, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom and its final mine-cart battle was, in my view, the gold standard for achievement in set design. This movie really gives Indy a run for his money, despite the film taking place almost entirely within a cookie-cutter home that’s part of a large, sprawling, and bland housing development that scars the otherwise beautiful California landscape around it. Despite some curious architectural choices within the house (that staircase!), we see that there is literally special about this home. The patriarch of our film, Steve Freeling (Craig T. Nelson) is the best salesman the housing development company has, and we see him sell houses that look exactly identical to his own. Yet, for all its ordinariness, there are so many tricks hidden behind the set’s walls that are revealed slowly throughout the film (and then very quickly at the end!). Everything from the ominous tree outside the children’s bedroom window to the unfinished pool to a closet door and to, yes, even those stairs(!) gets completely transformed before our very eyes from ordinary, safe, and boring to being part of the other world’s attack on our own! All of this comes to a head in the fantastic, jaw-dropping conclusion where skeletons and coffins pop out of the ground as if they were buried with springs (and the fact that in developing the set they probably buried with springs really makes me smile that the cast and crew were walking all over this set with booby-trapped coffins below their feet at least some of the time).

While it was a decision that was probably made due to the technical limitations of the time, I love that the coffins and skeletons are lifeless entities and not zombies. There is something infinitely more creepy about invisible forces acting as a puppet master over lifeless bones than the cheesy/overplayed model of the living dead. Furthermore, zombies are boring, unexciting villains… they walk slowly and stupidly hunt for brains. Clearly the force behind this film’s haunting is smart. It likes toying with the family. As we are told in the film, it knows what the family is afraid and uses it.

But more than just the set design, the practical effects in this film are wonderful in a way that’s no longer possible. I’m still scratching my head at how they filmed that scene where in seemingly one continuous shot, the film’s matriarch (Diane played by JoBeth Williams) pushes in all the chairs at the kitchen table, bends down to get something out of a cabin, and upon standing back up she (and we with her) see all of the chairs now stacked precariously on top of the table. The sequence takes five, six seconds, and is filmed to look like ONE SHOT! How did they do that?! Similarly, even just the scenes where chairs slide across the floor are magical in a way that is no longer possible in today’s era where I would know some computer was responsible for any on-screen trickery.

That the movie is such a successful spectacle no doubt is due to the influence of one Mr. Stephen Spielberg. He doesn’t direct this movie (Tobe Hooper does), but Spielberg wrote and produced it, so unfortunately for Mr. Hooper, Spielberg is primed to get most of the credit, as this film fits so perfectly in the Spielberg directorial canon. The movie came out a month before E.T. and certainly feels like a wonderful companion piece. It truly is a “kid’s horror movie” in the best sense of the phrase. The scenes where the family’s young boy, Robbie, is alone in his room dealing with his irrational fears are among the movie’s best. He sees faces in the tree outside his room, he throws a sweatshirt over his creepy clown figure, and investigates the darkness underneath his bed. All this is filmed with enough tension to perfectly capture and remind audiences how it felt to be afraid as a child.

The other hallmark of a classic Spielberg film? It doesn’t take itself too seriously, which is refreshing compared to if this movie were made today (and judging from the artwork from the 2015 remake I seem to be correct in my assumptions). In today’s age of developing deep “lores” and cinematic universes, the film isn’t too interested in fleshing out its paranormal theory. There’s a nice little piece of the film where one expert in ghosts explains her theories about the afterlife and what happens to the soul, but it mostly stays at a superficial level. We don’t know why there’s a particularly angry spirit haunting this house, and frankly it doesn’t matter!

Additionally, despite the serious and deadly circumstances the family faces, there’s a good deal of whimsy to this film. Just take the film’s ending. After the Freelings make a daring and heroic escape from their haunted home just before it is completely swallowed up into a blackhole, the movie ends with them checking into their room at a Holiday Inn for the night. As the camera zooms out on the closed motel room door and the credits roll, the film’s theme song plays. It’s a song that has an unironic, easy lightness to it that fits more in a Christmas movie than a Halloween movie. To me, it symbolizes that despite the destruction of the house, the spirits that inhabited it finally have reached their peace. It makes you wonder who were are supposed to be rooting for in this film… the Freelings or the ghosts? More on that in a second.

But no better example of the film’s whimsy exists than when the family enlists the help of local parapsychological experts (i.e., ghostbusters.) It is clear to me that the film Ghostbusters wouldn’t exist but for this movie. Anyways, the ghostbusters at one point brag about their credentials and knowledge of the paranormal, explaining that they once saw a toy car move across a room over the course of hours all by itself. Mr. Freeling (at this point with perpetual bags under his eyes from constant stress about his daughter residing in the spiritual world) grunts politely but with lack of interest. For in the next second he opens the door to the paranormal hub of his home where all the furniture is floating and spinning around by itself. The ghostbusters just about shit themselves.

If there’s some political commentary in this movie it’s very surface level and doesn’t distract from the spectacle. I was dreading this being a plot revolving around building the housing development on “sacred Indian burial grounds” and therefore the Native spirits were exacting their revenge. The movie actually addresses this head-on saying explicitly that the housing development was not built upon such land. It’s not that white people don’t deserve cosmic revenge for the way we (I’m white) as a people destroyed multiple civilizations… but that’s just such a tired, lazy, and slightly offensive trope. Instead, we find out that the original land developers built on top of a regular cemetery, moved the headstones, but never the bodies. Thus, the disturbed spirits and the subsequent haunting.

Still, even with this paranormal explanation, the movie is not-so-subtly critical of suburbia and suburbanites even if it’s critiques aren’t clear or fully fleshed out. As I noted above, towards the beginning of the film, the camera pans slowly across what is a beautiful California hilly landscape only to reveal a seemingly endless expanse of identical homes as part of this housing development. There’s an implicit sense at the very start that these people and their cookie-cutter existence and petty problems (like getting into a war with neighbors over the faulty TV signal), don’t belong here in this beautiful land… something made rather explicit by the film’s end when the ghosts fight back and finally get their peace.

As for more unclear symbolism, there’s got to be some meaning to the ironic fact that Mr. and Mrs. Freeling are both open-minded pot-smokers and Ronald Reagan-voting YUPPIE’s, but I never quite figured it out. Ultimately though, the specifics of Diane’s and Steve’s characters are not that important. They’re just supposed to be stand-ins for everypeople and they serve those roles very well. They are very, very likable as a couple with a strong, supportive, and obviously sexual relationship. And it’s clear they love their children very much. When told that Steve had to yell at Carol Anne sternly in order to save her life from ghosts, Steve hesitates because it is not within him to be harsh with his child. And as for Diane Freeling, she is the model of the perfect mother. She is devoted, loving, tender, but above all unafraid to risk her life to save her babies. It is clear the writers of Strangers Things had her in mind when they created the character of Mrs. Byers.

In every review I write, I get surprised by how much I end up writing. This is objectively a silly, inconsequential movie about a family whose house is haunted. It has no grand themes or ideas, the performances are all perfectly adequate, and some of the dialogue is downright silly. So how is there so much to say? It’s the way the director Tobe Hooper so perfectly recreates feelings of childlike fear and the way Spielberg and co. worked so hard to create such a grand spectacle that is better than some of the biggest budget movies of more recent yearsmakes this a true joy to watch. This movie knows exactly what it wants to be, sets out to do it, and comes away having it a big time home-run. And in its embrace of whimsy comes out on top over so many other movies it inspired who took Poltergeist‘s cutes on big set pieces, but forgot about its heart.

****(Four out of four stars)

[myfuckingpoetrt]

Trying to leave driveway

Found shortcut

Fake Halloween decor Gravestone covering path had to move it

Trees grass dirt

Graveyard at apartment corner of driveway real

Fake halloween gravestones stored there by lazy neighbors not taking them down

Fixing all of it to make it look good

Add my own

Concrete statue of Asian woman in chunky sandals capris and take too

Statue kept falling

Fell to pieces

Halloween Pooh Bear statue I owned and left there

Took back to my own porch

Decided to do more organizing and decorating

Going through storage box

Halloween masks Jon and I made

Jons witch mask ripped in half mine was fine

Pooh Bear in pumpkin concrete

Alien decorations

Moving from table to table to find best rearrangment

Rearranging furniture

Fish tank

Plugged in too hot

Water too low

Add a little tap water

Overflows

Afraid killed fish by shock

Afraid fish flopped out

Tank wouldn’t fit on any tables

Would slide off or tip over

Had to catch it

Asked Jon for help because of it getting hot

He accidentally splashed water onto the floor and it (like acid) exposed the apartment beneath us

Too dark in there to see

Saw a large pipe with water spitting out

She was home said she’d let josh know so he could help

She was average/thinner weight

Brown hair past shoulders

Woke up

Driveway

To see or drive up to a driveway in your dream symbolizes an end to your journey. It also represents security and rest. Alternatively, it denotes your path toward achieving inner peace and finding your spirituality.

To see rocks on the driveway refers to a rocky end to some journey.

Driving

To dream that you are driving a vehicle signifies your life's journey and your path in life. The dream is telling of how you are moving and navigating through life.

If your view is blocked or obstructed while you are driving, then it symbolizes your lacking awareness of something in your life. You are overlooking certain aspects in your life. Alternatively, the dream indicates dangers or problems that are not yet made known to you.

Obstacle

To see or experience obstacles in your dream represent things in your life that you need to overcome. The dream is offering you a solution on how to approach and tackle a problem in your waking life. You may have some self-doubt in your abilities and in coming to a decision.

Statue

To see people you know as statues in your dream symbolize a lack of communication with that person You feel that the relationship is inflexible, unyielding or going nowhere. Alternatively, it may represent someone you idealize and admire. You are putting someone on a pedestal. Perhaps the dream is analogous to their statuesque and nice figure.

Grave

To dream that you are at a grave indicates that you need to delve into your own subconscious in search of an issue that you thought had been put to rest. You need to stand up for yourself for no one else can do it for you. Alternatively, it represents something is about to be completed in your life. You are leaving behind the old and making a new start. The dream may also be a pun on feeling grave or concerns about a serious or sad situation.

Headstone

To see a headstone in your dream represents a forgotten or buried aspect of yourself which you need to acknowledge. Consider also the message on the headstone. It may indicate a statement about your life and its condition.

Cemetery

To dream that you are in a cemetery indicates an end to a habit or behavior. You are experiencing a rebirth. More directly, the dream may symbolize sadness, unresolved grief or your fears about death.

To dream that you are cleaning the cemetery suggests that you are coming clean about your past. In some Asian cultures, a special holiday revolves around surviving members of the family visiting and cleaning the gravesites of the deceased as a way to pay their respects. Thus in this regard, your dream may mean to respect your past and where you came from.

Halloween

To dream of Halloween signifies death and the underworld. Halloween also represents the temporary adoption of a new persona where you feel less inhibited and more comfortable to freely express yourself. You may also be trying to hide your true self. Alternatively, dreaming of Halloween reflects your childhood and the corresponding feelings that you associated with the holiday.

Mask

To see someone wearing a mask in your dream denotes that you are struggling against deceit, falsehood, and jealousy. If someone removes their mask, then it symbolizes failure in gaining the admiration and/or respect of someone sought for.

Witch

To see a witch in your dream represents evil and destruction. It may point to your negative ideas of anything feminine and your experiences with dangerous or heartless women. Alternatively, a witch may be a symbol of goodness, power and enchantment depending on your feeling toward your dream witch.

Porch

To dream of a porch represents your personality, your social self, your facade and how you portray yourself to others. Consider the condition and size of the porch. In particular to dream of an enclosed porch suggests of your tendency to distance yourself from others and your desires for privacy. If the porch is open, then it signifies your outgoing nature and welcoming attitude.

Furniture

To dream that you are moving furniture indicates that you are going out of your way to please others. Also, you may be changing your ways and trying to reevaluate your relationships/attitudes. Consider how easy or how difficult it is to move the furniture as they may indicate the level of burden or responsibility you are feeling.

Dresser

To see a dresser in your dream represents aspects of yourself that you are hiding. It may refer to your intimate self or childhood self. You need to reevaluate these emotions and either discard or incorporate them into your daily life.

Table

To see a table in your dream represents social unity and family connections. If the table is broken, wobbly or not functional, then it suggests some dissension in a group. It may also refer to a sense of insecurity. Perhaps there is something you cannot hold inside any longer and need to bring it out in the open.

Organize

To dream that you are organizing means that you need to sort out some issue in your life. You need order and stability. Consider what you are organizing and how it parallels an issue in your waking life. Alternatively, the dream signifies that you are in a rut. Life has become mundane and monotonous.

Cleaning

To dream that you are cleaning implies that you are removing some negativity in your life and overcoming major obstacles. You are moving ahead toward a new stage in your life. In particular, if you are cleaning your house, then it means that you need to clear out your thoughts and get rid of your old ways and habits. You are seeking self-improvement. Alternatively, the dream may be a metaphor that you need to "come clean" or tell the whole truth about some situation or matter.

To dream that you are cleaning an object represents an aspect of yourself that is not working or functioning as well as it should.

Fish Tank

To see or clean a fish tank in your dream indicates how you have full control of your emotions. You keep your feelings in check. If you are watching the fish in the fish tank, then you may feel that your life is going nowhere or that you are going in circles with your life.

Boiling

To dream that something is boiling represents transformation and/or sacrifice. There is something that you need to get down to the heart of. In particular to dream that water is boiling suggests that you are expressing some emotional turmoil. It also may mean that feelings from your subconscious are surfacing and ready to be acknowledged.

Help

To dream that you are calling or signaling for help suggests that you are feeling lost, overwhelmed, and/or inadequate.

Fiancé

To see your fiancé in your dream symbolizes your waking relationship with him or her. Often dreams focus on suppressed feelings that you have yet to express to your fiancé.

Hole

To see a hole in the ground denotes hidden aspects of your activities. On the other hand, it may mean that you are feeling hollow or empty inside. This dream may be an awakening for you to get out and expose yourself to new interests and activities. Alternatively, the dream may be a pun on "wholeness" or completeness.

Water

To see water in your dream symbolizes your subconscious and your emotional state of mind. Water is the living essence of the psyche and the flow of life energy. It is also symbolic of spirituality, knowledge, healing and refreshment. To dream that water is boiling suggests that you are expressing some emotional turmoil. Feelings from your subconscious are surfacing and ready to be acknowledged. You need to let out some steam.

To see muddy or dirty water in your dream indicates that you are wallowing in your negative emotions. You may need to take some time to cleanse your mind and find internal peace. Alternatively, the dream suggests that your thinking/judgment is unclear and clouded. If you are immersed in muddy water, then it indicates that you are in over your head in a situation and are overwhelmed by your emotions.

To dream that water is rising up in your house suggests that you are becoming overwhelmed by your emotions.

To hear running water in your dream denotes meditation and reflection. You are reflecting on your thoughts and emotions.

To dream that you are walking on water indicates that you have total control over your emotions. It also suggests that you need to "stay on top" of your emotions and not let them explode out of hand. Alternatively, the dream is symbolic of faith in yourself.

Floor

To see the floor in your dream represents your support system and sense of security. You have a firm foundation that you can depend on. The floor in your dream may also symbolize the division between the subconscious and conscious. Alternatively, the dream may be a pun on being "floored" or being completely surprised. Perhaps you have been caught off guard about something.

To see a polished or waxed floor in your dream indicates that you are keeping your subconscious suppressed. Consider the condition of the floor for further analysis.

Neighbor

To dream of having a good neighbor signifies enjoyment and tranquility at home.

[keywestlou]

KEY WEST PART OF U.S.S. MAINE HISTORY

Key West has always had a connection of some sort or another with Cuba.

The two islands are neighbors. A mere 90 miles apart. Many Cubans immigrated to work in Key West cigar factories which made cigars from Cuban leaves. Key West has always been supportive of the Cuban people’s desire for freedom. Many Key West residents today are of Cuban descent.

The first battleship of the U.S. was the U.S.S. Maine. On this day in 1898, the Maine exploded in Havana harbor. Two hundred sixty crewmen were killed.

The cause of the explosion at first was unknown. A U.S. Naval Court of Inquiry sat in session at the Custom House in Key West and took testimony regarding the possible cause of the explosion.

The Custom House construction had only recently been completed. The Custom House conducted and owned by the U.S. government at the time. Today privately owned by the Key West Art and Historical Society.

The Court of Inquiry determined the Maine had been blown up by a mine. However, the Court did not attribute blame to any nation or purpose.

Cuba was owned by Spain at the time. Public sentiment rapidly grew against Spain. Vengeance was called for.

It did not take long for war. The Spanish-American War began in April 1898. Within 3 months, the U.S. had decidedly defeated the Spanish.

In August 1898, an Armistice was signed officially ending the War.

The cause of the Maine explosion was always questionable. In 1976, a team of American naval investigators concluded the explosion was caused by a fire that ignited ammunition which was upon the Maine. Neither a mine nor sabotage was involved. A war had been fought in 1898 for no legitimate reason.

Greed was the motivating factor.

William Randolph Hearst blamed Spain for the explosion. He had no facts to suppport his theory. His purpose was solely to sell newspapers. He claimed Spain responsible for that reason.

It was the first time “yellow journalism” reared its ugly head in the U.S. Other newspapers took up the Hearst position also. “Remember the Maine! To hell with Spain” became the cry.

Two hundred sixty crewmen were killed in the Maine explosion. Some of the injured were treated in Havana hospitals. Others, in Key West hospitals.

Most of the dead wee buried in Arlington National Cemetery. However 19 who had been treated in Key West and died, were buried in the Key West Cemetery. A grand stone sits by their graves. A statue of a U.S. sailor holding an oar stands upon the stone.

The grave site is visited by many tourists. Additionally each year, a ceremony is held on February 15 acknowledging and honoring the war dead. The military is always involved. Many Key Westers are part of those paying homage.

Key West has never forgotten.

Sonali Kolhatkar on 2/8/21 wrote an article in Counterpunch as to a means to solve inequality. The title: It’s Easy To Fix Inequality: Tax The Rich.

Makes sense. Doubt it will ever occur in the extreme.

The cry for such is greater today that ever before. Elizabeth Warren has been a major force since her election to the Senate in 2016. Bernie Sanders has always been a proponent of such. Now add to the two the progressives that have in recent years been elected to Congress.

Biden sees the handwriting on the wall.  He has begin leaning more to the left. Understandable. The desire to abolish inequality is almost a religious one. Biden also understands progressives helped him get elected.

Were you aware: Elite news outlets are working overtime to try to block families from getting the $2,000 survival as they were promised. The beltway media is manufacturing consent for the position.

Convoluted economic theories are coming from every corner that the $2,000 is not healthy for the country. The theories being expounded by certain economists and the affluent rich.

Other than pure greed, I cannot understand why any group already well healed would push to deprive those less fortunate of a few extra dollars.

An interesting article on the issue can be found in The Daily Roster 2/9/21.

Lindsey Graham has been drinking Trump’s Kool-Aid. A day does not go by when he does not make some declaration that places him in Trump’s arms.

I find this interesting. Actually shocking. Recall Graham and John McCain were best of friends for years. McCain dies and suddenly Graham is on Trump’s bandwagon.

I am still in Mykonos. A place I disliked on day one grew on me.

—

DAY 20…..Greece the First Time

Posted on June 16, 2012 by Key West Lou

Yesterday was one terrific day!

I went to a great beach during the day and an extremely good restaurant in the evening.

The beach Super Paradise Beach.

My day began with the drive to the beach in a rented car. An experience.

Mykonos is hills. Up and down. The beach about 15 miles of driving to reach. The usual narrow roads, accidents waiting to happen, sharp curves, etc. The last mile of the drive was the worst and strangest I have ever experienced.

The last mile…..the phrase itself is the connotation I seek to convey. The last mile is straight down. With a couple of tiny curves. When I say straight down I mean that. It was like the first drop on a large roller coaster. I thought the back end was going to flip over forward. And the car and I in a serious accident. The car was not made for such a steep decline. The car’s center of gravity would not have been able to handle it.

I was concerned. With God as my co-pilot however, I made it to the bottom.

The trip was worth it. In front of me a beautiful parking lot and huge building. Super Paradise!

As I was turning the car off, I noticed the gas tank was on empty. I suddenly realized I had never put gas in the car. When I received it, it had half a tank. It was gone! When I ran out going back up the hill, and I would run out, the car would slide back down or whatever.

I had no recollection of having seen a gas station in my 15 mile drive. In fact, I had no recollection of ever having seen a gas station in Mykonos.

The solution was simple. I was on vacation. A rented vehicle out of gas was not my concern. It was the rental company’s. I left Super Paradise Beach several hours later by cab. When I got to my room, I telephoned the owner. A small rental company. The car was due back today.

I expanded the problem to him. Told him I did not want to run around getting a gallon of gas, going back to the car, etc. I acknowledge it was my fault. What could we do?

A gentleman. He said you have to return the car with the same amount of gas as when you took it. I said I knew. If it is empty, you owe me half of a tank. A tank full is 60 euros. I will charge you 25 euros. A good deal! I expected get screwed on the pick up and return portion, however. He explained he had to get gasoline, have someone drive him to the car, and then he had to drive it back. Time and people. It was coming. I could sense it. At least 50 euros more. That will cost you an additional 10 euros, he said.

A deal.

That is how the car problem was resolved.

You have to see Super Paradise Beach. Super it is!

I have never seen anything to compare to it.

A large semi circular beach. Clean sand. Clear water. 280 chairs. 140 beach umbrellas. Great lounging chairs. Like lying on a mattress.

A bar. Huge. Egg shaped. One of the biggest I have ever seen. Open air. A large dining area to the left. Outside. A food concession area. Self service. All kinds of great food. Provided in the automat fashion of old. Lift the glass door and take out what you like. To the right of the bar on a high podium of sorts, the DJ. All under a concretion roof.

Amazing! A money maker without question! Super Paradise goes till 4 in the morning.

We need a place like this in Key West. I have it all figured out. Don Manaher of Don’s Place to run it. He has the genius. Take the quiet end of Smathers Beach. Close it off. Build a similar but smaller facility. Clothing optional. A gold mine!

An example of gold mine is the $15 per two chairs charged for the lounges. Do the math. A gold mine in itself. Of course, the place is not full every day.

I finally found a topless beach. About 75 per cent of the women. All ages. Coupled with thong bottoms. A fantasy come true.

My search for total nudity also satisfied. Though I am not certain satisfied is the correct description.

A young mother was with her two children. A girl about 3 and a boy about 1. Both naked. A pervert I am not. However, that is the closest I have come to total nudity on this trip.

I tell you about this mother and her children for a special reason. Follow me.

I happened to look out into the water. There was Mom standing waist deep. One breast exposed. Junior enjoying his lunch.

Later, I happened to turn over on my lounge. Who was on the lounge directly behind me? Mom and the two kids. Junior was still eating. Mom decided the meal was over. She took her fingers and gently removed her nipple from his mouth. He was not finished. He would have none of stopping. With one set of fingers, he grabbed onto the nipple and shoved it back in his mouth. And chomped away till he was done. Junior was calling the shots in this regard. Not his mother.

A couple of months ago I reported on my internet show of a breast feeding lawsuit recently resolved. The situation gigging rise to the lawsuit occurred somewhere in the northeast. Perhaps Vermont or New Hampshire. A young mom was seated on a regional jet waiting for take off. Her child was hungry. She was breast feeding the child. The attendant said you will have to stop…..some of the other passengers might be offended. The woman refused and she and baby were removed from the plane.

This happened in 2008. The mother sued. The case recently settled. The settlement included a written apology from the regional carrier. A written apology also from the CEO of the big airline. And an undisclosed amount of money. The CEO said in his letter of apology that his airline was breast feeding friendly and that all mothers should be so aware. Come breast feed your child on one of our planes any time!

As it should be.

I played tourist. Enjoyed a couple of pina coladas while lying in the shade of the straw umbrella over my lounge. Later in the day, I was hungry. Tried out the food place described earlier. The food a winner!

I had grape leaves stuffed with rice and big white beans. The big white beans a separate dish.

I have gotten into grape leaves on this trip big time. The beans looked good in their glass cage. Big ones. Covered in an appealing red sauce. So I went for the beans also!

The beans a winner! Tender. It was the sauce however that made them so good. A red sauce with a lot of oil mixed in. Crushed basil leaves and I do not know what else thrown in. The sauce was so good that after I finished, I took bread and wiped the dish clean.

I left before 5. The partying starts at 5. Someday perhaps.

Several people told me to eat at Nikos. A Greek restaurant. Old. It is tiny and in the midst of the big ones on the Chora waterfront. I tried Nikos last night. Superb!

I enjoy lamb shank. The best lamb shank in Key West is served at La Trattoria. Comes standing up buried in a base of gnocchi.

Last night’s lamb shank came buried in greens cooked in a lemon sauce. Equal to La Trattoruia. I was thrilled with the meal!

Sorry to have been a little long today. Good things take time to tell.

One more item. D 15 was the story of my ill fated attempt to climb the volcano. It is being reprinted in next week’s KONK Life. Ask your friends to read it. I think it’s funny.

Enjoy your day!

KEY WEST PART OF U.S.S. MAINE HISTORY was originally published on Key West Lou

[keremulusoy]

“This city of Istanbul is a unique value, it is priceless / it’s one stone is as valuable as the entire Persian property/ One piece of quintessence between two seas / If it is weighted with the sun lightening the world, it deserves it”.

“Not only aesthetic and warm language, extraordinary subjects, strong structure and fiction order, but also cultural and intellectual depth have important places in the literary universe of HaldunTaner, who mostly wrote works in story and drama in Turkish literature.  The success of the author in his literary career lies behind in his past originated from the historical districts of Istanbul such as Bebek, Beylerbeyi, Sarachanebasi where he grew up by living traditional structure and modern life together.”

Is it a nice irony that most of the poets, writers, artists describing Istanbul most beautifully, most passionately or is its appreciation of the late found? It should not be easy to solve this mystery. For instance, Ibrahim Çallı who is considered as one of the most important representatives of Turkish painting art and named the ecole referred as 1914 generation, is one of the painters reflected the colors of Istanbul in the most aesthetically pleasing… As it is understood from his surname, he was born in Çal county of Denizli, he was able to arrive in Istanbul only at the age of seventeen or eighteen.

Yahya Kemal owner of the talismanic lines that come to the mind when speaking about the old Istanbul is, on the other hand, from Skopje. Assaying ‘’I looked at you from a hill yesterday dear Istanbul / I did not see, I did not visit, I did not like any place / If I have my life settle my hearth throne as you wish / Loving your even a simple neighborhood is worth a lifetime.’’, he could see world city Istanbul for the first time as late as in his youth, just like Callı. Especially, Sait Faik Abasıyanık when the whose name has mentioned a silhouette of Istanbul appearing on the background… From Şehzadebaşı to Bab-ı Ali and from Alemdag to Beyoglu, Galata and Yüksek Kaldırım, like there is no Istanbul place that his stories do not touch. If you have read a couple of stories of him, you hear the adventures of the writer from all four sides of the city. By the way, there is Burgazada where the whose name is referred with Sait Faik and the most beautiful of the Prince Islands of the Istanbul as the writer’s house where he wrote unforgettable stories at converted into the museum here and it has the interest of the citizens of the republic of literature. That Sait Faik, commune with Istanbul this much, is from Adapazarı is like the peak of the irony as we mention in the beginning.

As these examples come and go, at the time when “Generally, the artists who love a city with passion is not from that city” thesis turns into a generalization, giant name of the Turkish literature Haldun Taner comes to the mind.  It almost stands upright as an opposite statement. The writer is the member, who was born, grew and spent his finite life in Istanbul and was in love with this ancient city, of a family from Istanbul. The place and date of birth in the population records are stated exactly as follows: The city of Üsküdar, Beylerbeyi region, Abdullahköy neighborhood, 16th March 1915.

 Childhood Is The Backyard Of A Litterateur His father, Mr. Ahmet Salahaddin, is a professor of international law and dean of the faculty. He is an Ottoman enlightened who participated in public meetings in occupied Istanbul and wrote articles in newspapers during the period of the National Struggle in the Ottoman Empire. Haldun Taner, finishes the short and difficult life story of Ahmet Selahaddin that he tells with detailed and emotional language placed in his book named ‘’The skin dies if any, the lives are not to die’’ with ‘’He was 42 years old when he died, and he had only seventy-five cents in his pocket. How do I know all of this? Because he is my father… “ sentence.

The families of his mother, Mrs. Seza and his father Mr. Ahmet Selahaddin are neighbors in Beylerbeyi, which is to be one of the oldest Istanbul neighborhoods. The years of childhood spent in a happy family environment in a wooden white house, overlooking the Bebek Garden, went bad with the sudden death of his father Mr. Ahmet Salahaddin. Mr. Haldun was five years old when he lost his father. Together with his mother moved to the mansion of grandfather, Mr. Matbaacı Hamit, in Sarachanebaşı. The years of childhood spending with grandfather, grandmother, uncle, aunt, and mother allows very rich life experiences although deprived of the father image. He grows up with learning how to read and write from his aunt, yoga from one of his uncles, French from his another uncle and benefiting from his grandfather’s extensive accumulation of culture. Passing from the small and core family to large family environment living in old mansions where three generations lived together in old Istanbul districts led that Haldun Taner was able to see side by side the ancient Istanbul life and modern times and witness a rich cultural life. In various interviews made with the author or in his writings about his childhood, he points out a great deal of attention to the districts of Istanbul. According to Taner, who frequently spoke among the old Istanbul districts on both sides of the Bosphorus, Beylerbeyi, Saraçhanebaşı, Bebek, Moda and his family members who developed himself as a multidimensional in this culture department; This self-proclaimed funny teaching, away from the boredom of education, protected and resisted an orphan child who grew up in ancient Istanbul districts from the pessimistic world.

Haldun Taner

Taner Haldun

Taner Haldun

Loving Istanbul And Literature They lived in the mansion of his grandfather Mr. Pressman Halit in Saraçhanebaşı, in winters, and in summers sometimes in the house of his father’s uncle in Maltepe, and sometimes in the summer house in Büyükada. Taner has completed the Galatasaray High School and continued his education at abroad in the Faculty of Political Sciences (Germany) at the University of Heidelberg in the context of the Law of the Hidemat-ı Vataniye (state aid provided to those deceased or survivors as disabled themselves and their leftovers while serving the country in return for their services).  Towards the end of the third year in here, he had tuberculosis and returned to his Istanbul. The long period of treatment and convalescence, which first started in a sanatorium in Erenköy and then continued at home, stopped the social life of Taner as well as his educational life. The only benefit of that time of recovery of four years which tiedTaner’s hands, is hundreds of books that he read and his incipient authorship trials.Writer heals by re-loving Istanbul remained separate. Besides, He also found an occupation that can tell the city of Istanbul with a delightful style as it deserves. Literature… After that, he tells Istanbul and people from Istanbul at every opportunity. Writing each season of the city, every hour of the day turns at him into a passion. Just as the “Yalıda Sabah” story that we read the description of Istanbul which he wrote while looking deeply from the balcony at his house in Moda.

“The first hours of the morning is my reign. Even if it lasts for forty-fifty minutes, I taste sip by sip each moment of my reign. We have an addiction like this, summer or winter have to stand out of bed at five, to catch the morning before everyone else.” (Haldun Taner, Yalıda Sabah)

“Farewell To Istanbul” Haldun Taner immerses himself in the spirit of the time and the magic of the place. At every story, every play he wrote, he first teaches being human, more precisely the ways of being a nice human, to every character he creates. Like loving a person, we read in his texts how a city can be loved. He tells his stories sometimes while it rains in Şişhane, and sometimes on the side of the ferry line that runs from Salacak. Until the morning of May 7th of the year 1986… At that morning Haldun Taner sees his Istanbul for the last time in the eyes of the world. His heart full of the love of the human stopped just like ticking clogs of the clock that gently tell in one of his stories. Since then, he watches the city of Istanbul from the cemetery of Küllüce in Beylerbeyi, which he loves very much. Our words are humbly ending in the beautiful expression and distinctive sign of Haldun Taner who the gentleman of our literature is. ‘’The skin dies if any, the lives are not to die.’’

NOTES:

Searching For Istanbul ’How many kinds of views are taken to Istanbul? Everybody looks at her from their own window. Moreover, there is a different place that each one loves. There are also places with allergies. For example, Sait Faik never liked Camlica and Suadiye for some reason. Abdülhak Şinasi was contrarily passionate about Çamlıca as well as the Bosphorus. Fikret loved the hills of Rumelihisar. So was Ahmet Vefik Pasha. There is no need to be an artist, everyone, we all do favor cities which keep our memories.” (From The Book of Haldun Taner named “You Are Very Beautiful Do Not Go”)

“I calculated it last time. From time to time I lived in twenty places of these magical cities. Like loving a lover’s arm, neck, face, wrists, hands separately. Beylerbeyi, Uskudar, Bebek, Gedikpasa, Cagaloglu, Sarachanebasi, Buyukada, Maltepe, Yesilkoy, Osmanbey, Sisli, Feneryolu, Goztepe, Ciftehavuzlar, Erenkoy, Cevizli, Kucukyali, Bahariye, Moda, Muhurdar are places that share the years and livings of my life. And it is necessary to add the twelve years that I spent in boarding school in the heart of Beyoglu.’’ (From The Book of Haldun Taner named “You Are Very Beautiful Do Not Go”)

TO HALDUN TANER

I looked at you like Yahya from Tesvikiye Who should have encouraged you You were going to Küplüce… You were walking between us You were walking apart from us… At the very last moment Maybe you The human Haldun A very nice A very nice A very nice You were a totally new Istanbul…

Can YÜCEL

By: Necati Bulut

*This article was  published in the  May– June issue of Marmara Life.

Haldun Taner and Istanbul “This city of Istanbul is a unique value, it is priceless / it’s one stone is as valuable as the entire Persian property/ One piece of quintessence between two seas / If it is weighted with the sun lightening the world, it deserves it”.