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thecartoonuniverse · 6 years ago

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Sad about Adventure Time Ending and Looking for Something else to Watch?

Or just want to know about the new cartoons series coming up later this year or in 2019? Well, here’s a list! Let me just say we have a lot to look forward to...

2018

The Dragon Prince (September 14th, Netflix):

The Dragon Prince is an epic fantasy series by the head writer and director of Avatar: the Last Airbender. In the magical land of Xadia, magic comes from six primal sources. But when human mages create a seventh kind of magic, Dark Magic — they begin capturing and harvesting the unique magical creatures they need as ingredients. This sparks a catastrophic war between Xadia and the Human Kingdoms. Three kids from opposite sides of the conflict — two human princes, and the elven assassin who was sent to kill them — discover a secret that could change everything. They decide to join forces and go on an epic journey that may be their only hope of ending the war, and restoring peace to both their worlds.

Hilda (September 21st, Netflix):

Hilda follows the journey of a fearless blue-haired girl as she travels from her home in a vast magical wilderness full of elves and giants to the bustling city of Trolberg, where she makes new friends and discovers mysterious creatures who are stranger –and sometimes more dangerous– than she ever expected. Based on graphic novels by Luke Pearson, who storyboarded for Adventure Time.

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (November 16th, Netflix):

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power is the story of an orphan named Adora, who leaves behind her former life in the evil Horde when she discovers a magic sword that transforms her into the mythical warrior princess She-Ra. Along the way, she finds a new family in the Rebellion as she unites a group of magical princesses in the ultimate fight against evil.

3 Below (December 21, Netflix):

3 Below will focus on two royal teenage aliens and their bodyguard who flee a surprise takeover of their home planet by an evil dictator and crash land in Arcadia. Now on the run from intergalactic bounty hunters, they struggle to blend in and adapt to the bizarre world of high school all the while attempting to repair their ship so they can return and defend their home planet.

Care Bears: Unlock the Magic (Boomerang):

Care Bears: Unlock the Magic sends the Care Bears on the road for the first time, exploring never-before-seen areas surrounding Care-a-lot called The Silver Lining.

2019

Owl House (Disney Channel):

Owl House is a horror-comedy series that follows Luz, a self-assured teenage human girl who accidentally stumbles upon a portal to the Demon Realm. There she befriends a rebellious witch, Eda, and an adorably tiny warrior, King. Despite not having magical abilities, Luz pursues her dream of becoming a witch by serving as Eda's apprentice at the Owl House and ultimately finds a new family in an unlikely setting.

Amphibia (Disney Channel):

The show tells the story of Anne Boonchuy, a self-centered 13-year-old who is magically transported to the fictitious world of Amphibia, a rural marshland full of frog-people. With the help of an excitable young frog named Sprig, Anne will transform into a hero and discover the first true friendship of her life.

101 Dalmatian Street (Disney Channel):

101 Dalmatian Street is inspired by Dodie Smith's 1956 novel and Walt Disney's 1961 One Hundred and One Dalmatians. But it is has been updated and moved to contemporary London. It depicts the adventures of eldest Dalmatian siblings Dylan and Dolly, parents Doug and Delilah, and ninety-seven younger puppies, all with names beginning with "D", who live all by themselves at the titular address.

Infinity Train (Cartoon Network):

Infinity Train is about an intelligent, albeit frustrated, girl named Tulip who—for reasons unknown—is trapped on a train full of infinite worlds. Accompanied by conjoined robots Glad-One and Sad-One, Tulip is determined to solve the mystery of the train and find her way home.

Victor and Valentino (Cartoon Network):

In the small quiet town of Monte Macabre, two total opposite half-brothers search about the town for adventure and find strange and supernatural happenings with the help of their supernatural grandmother.

Thundercats Roar! (Cartoon Network):

Staying true to the premise of the original series, Lion-O and the ThunderCats — Tygra, Panthro, Cheetara, Wilykat, and Wilykit — barely escape the sudden destruction of their home world, Thundera, only to crash land on the mysterious and exotic planet of Third Earth. Lion-O, the newly appointed Lord of the ThunderCats, attempts to lead the team as they make this planet their new home. A bizarre host of creatures and villains stand in their way, including the evil Mumm-Ra, Third Earth’s wicked ruler who will let nothing, including the ThunderCats, stop his tyrannical reign over the planet.

Villainous (Cartoon Network Latin America):

Villainous is the story of Black Hat Org., run by Black Hat and his team of three less-villainous aides. Black Hat is trying to sell various evil inventions created by Dr. Flug and desperate to achieve his evil aspirations. However, things usually end up going wrong for him as the brilliant innovations tend to have small and often comical flaws. Has already been airing Orientation Videos and Shorts on YouTube for a while, but a pilot will be aired soon, with a full series hopefully to follow.

Golpea Duro ¡Hara! (Cartoon Network Latin America):

Golpea Duro Hara! (Hit Hard Hara!) is the story of Hara, the only female fighter in the world, and together with her friend Tesu, she fights against the discrimination suffered by the brutal men who populate the planet. But Hara has a hidden side: a vicious transformation that frustrates her plans!

Glitch Techs (Nickelodeon):

Glitch Techs is an adventure-comedy following two newly recruited kids as they battle video game monsters that come to life in the real world.

High Guardian Spice (Crunchyroll):

In High Guardian Spice, the lives of four fierce girls, Rosemary, Sage, Thyme and Parsley, converge at High Guardian Academy, the one place where they can stumble towards adulthood while becoming the heroes they’ve always admired. As they master the ways of battle and sorcery, our foursome form allegiances and comical kinships, uncover legacies and betrayals, and discover their true identities while preparing to protect the world from an ominous unknown threat.

Carmen Sandiego (Netflix):

In the upcoming animated series produced by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, Carmen Sandiego is back and ready for a new crop of international capers packed with thrilling adventure and intrigue. This fresh take presents an intimate look into Carmen's past where viewers will not only follow her escapades but also learn WHO in the world is Carmen Sandiego and WHY she became a super thief.

Seis Manos (Netflix):

Set in Mexico in the 1970’s era, Seis Manos centers on three orphaned martial arts warriors who join forces with a DEA agent and a Mexican Federal to battle for justice after their beloved mentor is murdered on the streets of their tiny border town.

Last Kids on Earth (Netflix):

The Last Kids on Earth follows 13-year-old Jack Sullivan and a band of suburban middle schoolers who live in a decked-out tree house, play video games, gorge themselves on candy, and battle zombies in the aftermath of the monster apocalypse. It’s a hilarious series filled with wisecracking kids, crazy gadgets, a lifetime supply of zombies and giant-sized monsters.

Twelve Forever (Netflix):

The series centers on 12-year-old Reggie, whose desire to remain a child is so powerful it creates a fantasy world in which she never has to grow up. She’s joined by her friends Todd and Esther, who visit this amazing world to live out their superhero fantasies and escape the responsibilities of impending adulthood.

Wizards (Netflix):

Wizards brings together the three disparate worlds of trolls, aliens and wizards who have found themselves drawn to Arcadia. The final chapter of the Tales of Arcadia culminates in an apocalyptic battle for the control of magic that will ultimately determine the fate of these supernatural worlds that have now converged.

Young Justice: Outsiders (January 4th, DC Universe):

Young Justice: Outsiders is the third season of Young Justice. The backdrop for the season is described as being one that will touch on "all corners of the DC universe," and that certainly seems to be the case considering the sheer number of bad guys discussed and shown in the trailer. The team will be tasked with stopping a metahuman trafficking ring, as well as dealing with the "intergalactic arms race for control of these super--powered youths." You can also count on new heroes Arrowette, Spoiler, and Thirteen joining in the fight.

gen:Lock (January 2019, Rooster Teeth):

In gen:LOCK, Earth’s last free society is on the losing side of a global war, and recruits a diverse team of young pilots to control the next generation of mecha—giant, weaponized robot bodies. These daring recruits will find, however, that their newfound abilities come at no small cost. As Chase leaves behind his life as a fighter pilot to become the first candidate for the program, he finds his endurance, as well as his very identity, will be tested beyond anything he ever imagined.

Undone (Amazon):

Undone is a half-hour animated dramedy that explores the elastic nature of reality through its central character, Alma. After getting into a near-fatal car accident, Alma discovers she has a new relationship with time and uses this ability to find out the truth about her father’s death.

Close Enough (TBS):

Close Enough is a surreal take on transitioning from 20-something to 30-something. The show centers on a married couple juggling such everyday challenges as parenthood, friendship, ham theft, stripper clowns and choosing the right daycare. Was supposed to air in 2017 or 2018, but no word of a release date yet, so I assume it will be in 2019.

Hero High (February 14th, ???):

Not many details are known about this show, but it will be a Legend of Zelda high school parody. Source

Long Gone Gulch (Internet):

Two screwups, Snag and Rawhide, find themselves bestowed as the new Sheriff’s of a strange world adrift in an ever moving dust cloud. Long Gone Gulch holds the inhabitants of myths, urban legends and folklore from around the world. They travel through the land when they are needed and encountering all manner of adventures along the way.

Hazbin Hotel (???):

Hazbin Hotel is the story of Charlie, the princess of Hell, as she pursues her seemingly impossible goal of rehabilitating demons to peacefully reduce overpopulation in her kingdom. She opens a hotel in hopes that patients will be "checking out" into Heaven. While most of Hell mocks her goal, her devoted partner Vaggie, and their first test subject, adult film-star Angel Dust, stick by her side. When a powerful entity known as the "Radio Demon" reaches out to Charlie to assist in her endeavors, her crazy dream is given a chance to become a reality.

Gorillaz (Internet):

A ten-episode show based off of the fictional band. Might not be happening apparently.

2020

Solar Opposites (TBS):

Solar Opposites follows a family of aliens who leave their planet and settle in suburban America.

And that about covers it! Let me know if I missed any of the big ones!

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aoskalskirata · 5 years ago

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When Hell breaks loose, it's never pretty...

The humans have been at war for a long time now, roughly 5 standard years since first contact with a resurgent alien AI that managed to wipe out it's creators some decades ago, or so it thought. A few outlying colonies, one of them just lightyears from Terra, panicked and left their worlds, becoming nomadic until they found mankind, and asked for shelter in exchange for advanced technology to propel their new hosts into space. The aliens now reside on Mars, and accept their new designation that had been derived nearly a century ago.

After learning of a potential threat to their homeworld, the humans quickly developed warships to defend Terra and Mars, and then it came. Just a couple larger ships, but with a massive swarm of drone fighters. Around 10 Hoplite-class frigates were lost, along with 3 mobile refineries and 2 wings of fighters. All told, around 50 lives were lost in the first conflict, and the Martians believed that their allies would soon lose the impending war, as the AI units were always transferring information, then a new series of ships started production in the shipyards. Three new combat models started patrolling out as far as Jupiter orbit, each larger than the last. The smallest of the three also looked a little more specialized, with a pod on its port side. Another AI destroyer jumped in on the Jupiter fleet, and this time, only two of the missile frigates were lost; another 6 lives. The humans were making deadlier vessels, but how long would these designs last? Apparently not long, as another large fleet of AI jumped in right above Mars, and even some of the larger cruisers went down, each holding 10 crew. Once again, things weren't looking good, and things went dark once the AI started sending their fighters against the Martian colonies. An hour into the raids, and a new, much larger ship warped in, with just one word plastered on the side: Atlas. A true capital ship, with it's own fighters to boot.

Once again, the AI was beaten back, and once again, the humans were victorious, even if at a cost. Some months after the Mars defense, one of the Martian leaders had requested permission to enter the human admiral's quarters aboard the Curiosity, one of four Hephaestus-class mobile shipyards moving around the system, Curiosity currently sitting above Mars, acting as the command center of a survey mission concerning the AI wreckage.

"Admiral, it's been three years since you developed the Hoplite frigate, and now you have a ship that can possibly face one of their dreadnoughts. How is this possible?"

"Well, let's look back to our first world war. The first half was fought on horseback, as that was the fastest mode of viable combat transportation at the time. Around 1916, the first tanks were made, thus changing the way we waged war forever. The second world war rolled around, and now you have several nations developing multiple kinds of tanks for different purposes, specializing them, and even making artillery more mobile than before. As we progressed, so did our technology... and our sadism followed."

The admiral thought for a moment "wait... dreadnought, as in larger than what we've seen already?"

"Correct."

"... we will meet again soon." He quickly walked out, and the representative followed.

Another year passed, and more and more AI capital ships came to their deaths, bringing thousands of Sol's finest down with them...

Present Day---

Admiral Hackett and Senator 'Rocky', as he had been nicknamed, now were meeting in the bridge of the Atlas command ship, overlooking an unusually large frame, holding a slightly smaller ship superstructure within.

"Admiral, what is this that's been commissioned? Surely not another warship variant?"

"If what you said two years ago was true, then all that's left is to keep scaling our ships up until either we can't go bigger or the war ends."

"You humans are so twisted at times.."

"It'll get to the point where it's either us or them, just as it had with your civilization. Adaptation is what allows the strongest to survive"

"The last time my species adapted was when we first touched the stars..." Rocky thought aloud, absentmindedly.

"Exactly. Complacency is a very deadly thing, and never works in favor of those that are"

"... how many men will this monster require?" Referring to the ship being constructed I the gantry.

"Over a hundred"

"What is the classification?"

"Ares" a thought suddenly comes to Hackett, and slowly surfaces through his face as he turns to loom at Senator Rocky.

"What?"

"Ares and Mars are the names of the Greek and Roman gods of war, respectively. Their mythologies and cultures were largely the same, and in some aspects, Rome borrowed from Greece. I believe that some of your people are still wanting to fight, no?"

"I-... well, I guess it would seem fitting, given the new name of our civilization. I shall have word put out to my people, and will ask that you send over recruiters immediately. I will set up the appropriate facilities in the meantime."

"Of course, Senator." The two departed, Admiral Hackett taking a few more minutes before returning to his work.

Decades pass without conflict, and the AI are all but forgotten. The newly promoted Admiral is about to announce the mass demilitarization of the Sol Defense Fleet when reports start flooding his terminal. Neptune, Uranus, and Saturn fleets are all wiped out, along with the shipyards Warbound and Vulcanist. Hundreds of lives lost.

The Admiral was aboard the Atlas, orbiting Mars, and a massive fleet jumps in right on top of his. Over 10 destroyers, 5 battle cruisers, and 3 ships of a much larger size, the fabled dreadnoughts. Massive clouds of drones launch from the AI fleet, and are closing in quickly on Atlas and her escorts. The order to scramble fighters is given, and maybe all of 30 launch in response, but they go down the moment they enter range. Hoplite frigates, Styx cruisers, and Athena destroyers all move forward in response, and they don't even make a dent in the swarm, only the Athenas are holding. One of the dreadnoughts turns to the surface of Mars, and the front end starts glowing in its sinister green light. It looked almost ready to fire when the hull started buckling from explosions. From above, a massive human ship, maybe twice the size of the Purge-class dreadnought, fired upon the AI battle group. The rest of the larger ships turned to face the reinforcements, and the destroyers simply melted, battlecruisers fragmented, and another dreadnought buckled, and started falling to the Martian surface. The drones pulled off from what was left of the Mars defense group and converged on their last mothership.

The human dreadnought did something that no one had seen before. It reoriented itself to point straight down in relation to the Purge, which started charging what could only be it's superweapon. Not a single shot was exchanged for what seemed forever. The ball of energy on the front had stopped growing for 30 seconds, lost it's color from increasing brightness, a brief flash from the human ship, and the light in front of the Purge just goes out.

The Admiral starts looking down, fearing the worst, and light starts coming back to the AI dreadnought, this time orange, bringing his attention back to the fight. Just small points of orange, fading in and out all across the hull. It starts fragmenting, and he falls to his knees in relief, unable to speak.

'We did it. We beat them. Thank the Ares-class for this final victory...'

Wrong.

Another year passes, yet again without conflict since those first dreadnoughts, and this time the order to demilitarize the fleet is carried through. Occasionally a couple AI frigates would threaten the random convoy passing through the first asteroid belt, but those ambushes were quickly policed by the last remaining battle group of the SDF, said frigates thought to have been stragglers from the war.

Again, wrong.

Fast forward another 30 years, and the Martians are thriving once again, and they expand with the humans to their old worlds, looking to rebuild what was lost nearly a century ago, and ruins turn to vast cities once again.

And for a time, a long time, the AI were forgotten.

But oh, how complacency kills.

A decade into the expansion, and smaller colonies of what is now the Sol Empire begin going silent. Scout ships are sent to investigate, and they too end up going dark, until one comes back with data. Images of the previous scouts in sector D-623-a4, along with some dark shape being escorted by several dreadnoughts, along with a message file that snuck into one of the terminals aboard the scout ship.

The Admiral ordered for further investigation, and when confronted by press, stated that progress was being made with the investigation of the colony blackout, but nothing confirmed as of yet, as it was now vital that the people not be panicked by what's in the outer rim.

Months passed, and colonies kept going dark, scout ships kept getting lost, and the same message kept coming back: "I have waited a long time for this. I will carry out my directive."

The admiral turned to the helmsman of Atlas "captain, get me The Fleet"

"S-sir?" He replied, confused.

"The entire damned SDF. We need it back online immediately"

"But that won't be able to stop whatever we're dealing with here. We don't have enough shi-"

"What we have now is not the entire fleet, damnit! Computer, pull up the roster the the Sol Defense Fleet at it's peak"

The holoscreen flashed with several different blueprints, the Atlas, Curiosity, and the first Hoplite frigates among dozens upon dozens of other individual vessels. A disembodied voice replied "Virgil, if you'd be so kind, sir, and at peak, the SDF had well over a hundred ships under it's command, including nearly 200 fighters, some of which were wings full of ace pilots for their time. All battle groups currently reside in the Sol Military Museum, between Terra and Venus orbits. That's what I believe you were meaning for your initial request, sir."

A Martian started punching away at his terminal "Already plotting course, sir. I should also mention that I may or may not have been told stories of what's heading this way.."

"It better not be what I think it is, Navigation."

"We both know the response to that one, sir."

Months more pass, and the new Martian Councilor joins the next Admiral Hackett aboard the Atlas, overseeing the SDF revival project.

"I always thought that these were just oversized cargo vessels, Admiral. I mean, how would they not be freighters?"

"Nope. Dedicated warships from a time of war, and every soul to have ever stepped foot in them knew the risks, a good number of them paying that price. Even my father, the admiral before me, knew that. And now I stand where he stood, desperately hoping to find a solution to an extinction-level problem."

"Your father served? How long?"

"Since before you sought shelter from us. Long before"

"Is your entire family known for serving?"

"No, it's mostly been a thing for the males, going as far back as my great-grandfather, who retired roughly a century ago, and wound up deceased a couple years before my father was born."

"Is your family the only one to do this? To serve for generations?"

"Most certainly not, and some families are lucky enough to serve within the same unit as one another. Even females have been known to serve since my great-grandfather's time in the old Army. Some say it's a tradition, some cases dating back by hundreds of years or more"

"We digress. Do you think that we will be able to successfully bring these vessels back? Will they even work?"

"Technology has stagnated a little since the trade agreement between our races, I think we're able to pull out at least 75% of these mothballs out."

"And where will you get the manpower? Don't the frigates alone take dozens of people to operate?"

"3 people per frigate, we had to find a way to cut back on expenses somehow, so we slaved weapons systems to common guidance systems in banks. Of course, more weapon banks means more people, but that means that we can afford the extra crew space. It also makes it easier to mass produce even our larger ships."

"You humans are stranger than Senator Rocky had stated when he was in power, but for both of our sakes, I hope you're right about resurrecting the fleet."

Weeks pass still, and the fleet is slowly brought back into service, but it wasn't too long before the AI itself arrived, the flagship with it's Purge dreadnought escorts, around 20 of them. The flagship hailed the Atlas. "I have waited a long time for this, Kar'rastra. This time, I will be sure to carry out the task set by my creators, your ancestors. Humans, don't stand in my way this time, or your homeworld will be the first that I burn."

Admiral Hackett, stumbling over what the AI said, responded "run that last part by me again?"

"Your homeworld will be the first to burn if you keep these hostages under your custody-"

"Hold on just a minute... 'hostages'? We have done nothing wrong to them. In fact, they came to us seeking refuge from you! We were told that you were destroying their colonies and killing every last one of the Kar-rastra. We have been defending the last of their kind from you, and now you want us to stand by as you take them for slaughter once again? I cannot al-"

"I will stop you right there, as we may have had a century-long misunderstanding. I'm not eradicating anyone. I've been relocating them to a different galaxy, away from the real threat." The dreadnoughts reformed, making a ring between the flagships, and they all fired their spinal lasers into the center, and a different set of stars could be seen on the other side.

"Then why were they running from you? Besides, they haven't been attacked by anything else, so what makes you think that we can trust you?"

"You will soon regret thi-" the portal closes, and five of the dreadnoughts shatter in the void, another two falling victim to the resulting debris.

"All ships, this is MDS Endgame. Engage and fire at will" a massive hulk came flying through the AI formation, followed by three others, the last one taking light fire.

"MDS Revenge here, let's give it to them."

"MDS Oblivion here, opening up with alpha strike on following vector. Stay clear" another of these hulks comes up from the bottom, and fires directly up, slagging another 3 dreadnoughts at once. The AI flagship opens up with its main batteries, punching a few holes in her armor. "Oblivion taking moderate damage, pulling back before things get too messy. Batteries Bravo through Foxtrot are down, decks 3 and 5 are venting atmosphere. 3 bulkheads down."

"MDS Ares here, stay outside of the control ship's range, we don't want to-" another one takes two more dreadnoughts, but gets hit along the spine, taking out the bridge and all vital systems, and it soon vaporizes in it's own failed reactors. All hands lost.

"Endgame here. Focus all fire on the control ship. Without the core, the rest will stop functioning."

"Revenge. Solid copy."

"Oblivion copies"

"MDS Immortal here. Transmitting firing solutions now. Keep your spine out of reach if you can, we don't wanna end up like the Ares."

"Endgame launching fighters. Lost Boys, you reading Lima charlie?"

"Lost Leader, lima charlie. What's the weak spot on this beast?"

"Go for the engines, might be able to make a window for Catalyst to jump through."

"Roger. Lost Boys, form up and watch for those drone rockets."

"Lost Four here, there's a small trench line, looks unprotected."

"Lead copies and likes the idea. Double file in the trench. Double time."

"Endgame here. All units, deploy fighters, let's buy the Lost Boys some time. All wings, launch when ready."

"Revenge, launch all wings."

"Oblivion here, starboard hangar is hit, 5 fighters lost, the rest unreachable. Available wings flying now."

"Immortal wings taking flight, firing another alpha strike." Another massive salvo from the MDS Immortal, but some of the smaller rounds were stopped by a massive swarm of drones that had moved to shield their motherships. Some of the larger rounds got through, and still managed to down another dreadnought.

"They're down by 50%. Lost Lead, what's the ETA for your run?"

"Lost Lead here, this thing's fuck-off massive, it doesn't look like there's a back end at all. Will keep you updated, Endgame."

"Roger, we'll keep an eye on your six."

And the battle raged on, Admiral Hackett getting lost in the chatter and explosions all around. It wasn't long before what appeared to be a box executing an uncomfortably close flyby of the Atlas' aft bridge.

Hell has just arrived, and it's happy to join the fray.

"Catalyst reporting, sorry for showing up late, but I thought you liked having me and the boys at parties."

Hackett quickly got to his comms terminal. "Atlas here, and you know that you're only late if the party ends without you. Good to hear from ya."

"That makes two of us, dad. Lost Lead, your scans say anything about an interior?"

"Ah.. nothing so far, sir. Being honest, I don't even know whe- well, the exterior just finished, and it looks like we're a half hour out from making you an opening. Luckily, I haven't seen a single gun for the past 3, so hopefully we're far out enough to just roll out the red carpet here. 7 and 12, see if you can punch a hole. Everyone else, form up on me, y-axis circle."

"Sounds good, we'll form up on the carpet in 2" Catalyst's commander said as the fighter wing complied. The two Stinger-class fighters that broke off opened up with a small amount of missiles, and the result looked promising.

"Lost Lead hear, and the forecast is sunny with a chance of Medal of Honor." The ring of fighters opened up with a barrage of rockets and ballistic fire, cutting and blowing a Hephaestus sized hole into the hull of the almost endless drone flagship. The Catalyst, a Cloudscatter-class frigate, flies right through the ring and into the maw of buckled plating and ship dust.

"What do you think you are doing? Get out of my ship!" The AI exclaimed.

"Only if you agree to take what toys you have left and leave this galaxy" the commander aboard the Catalyst, Colbran Hackett, was in a bit of a sour mood, playing to the smartass nature that his father did when he was younger.

"Hey Lead, look at this" one of the other fighters flew closer to the hole, slowly.

"Is.. is that.. blood?"

"Dunno, sir. Conduct EVA to collect a sample?"

"Scanning... go ahead"

The pilot overrode the safety measures that sealed the cockpit, opened the hatch, and jumped onto the hull of the flagship, everything being suspended in free fall. He collects a stained shard of metal with a ziploc bag, seals the bag, and returns to his craft, and reverses the console work to repressurize the cockpit.

"Yeah, this looks like blood, sir, and there's more pouring out. Saving this for the Chaos Theory."

"Roger. Return to Endgame, wing. Our job here is done" the squadron flew back towards their mothership, and through the chaos of battle, docked with their Ares-class dreadnought.

"Catalyst to Atlas. Things don't look quite right here... I expected there to be a bit more space in a core ship of this size."

"What do you mean?"

"There's secondary structures all over the place. There's just so much unnecessary material here for an AI core. Lost Lead, are your scans completed yet?"

"Lost Lead here, one of my guys found out something rather interesting about this ship. We're about to take it to Chaos Theory for more details, maybe that'll help with the scans, and answer the question no one's asking."

"Chaos Theory here, preliminary research on the anomaly appears to be organic in nature. Most likely crew, but then that raises the question of why crew a one-man ship."

"See what you can do, Doc."

"If course sir. Chaos Theory out."

"Lost Lead here. Structure scans are picking up on the negative space in proximity to you. See if you can fly around and give us a bit more information."

"Roger. Launching fighters and shuttles to speed things up."

The scan time was halved, and soon the interior map finished rendering, and while that was being done, the strange sample was sent off to the defense fleet's research vessel, the Chaos Theory.

Another few minutes passed, along with more cruiser losses. The Athena-class destroyer, Monumental, was just destroyed. All 10 of her crew lost in a super beam from a Purge dreadnought.

"Atlas, Chaos Theory. Initial suspicions were correct, but not crew."

"What do you mean 'not crew'?"

"As in this fluid is the ship's blood in the most literal way. Notice how the flagship is still leaking."

"Catalyst. Plant boots. I wanna know what's inside the secondary structures ASAP."

"Roger. Marines, you heard him."

"5 steps ahead of ya, Cap. All pods loaded and awaiting drop order."

"Boots away."

"Boots away. Might want to send a group to cover our entrance. Wouldn't wanna get picked off by a drone."

"Cruiser Neverending here, rallying buttplug detail now. Restless, Lowborn, and Painted Ash, form up on me." Two Apollo frigates, a Styx cruiser, and an Athena destroyer regrouped on the super ship's opening, providing a point defense shield against the stray drone squadron. "Buttplug detail has arrived. Nothing's gonna get in, Chief."

"Catalyst here, please never call it that again."

"No promises-"

"Atlas here, please never call it that again."

"Copy."

The Catalyst drops her pods, and the marines start bounding towards the largest internal structure under the 5 inch thick hull plating, which was much thinner than it should've been for a ship of this magnitude.

"This thing looks just a bit.. fragile, wouldn't you say, sarn't?"

"Yeah. If anyone with a mind were to have built something to control an entirely automated fleet, then I would have gone as small as possible, so it'd be easier to hide it among asteroids or debris."

"Guess this machine's about as stupid as you get"

"Cut the chatter. See if you guys can find the main hub and enter it. Big wings wanna know what exactly we're dealing with, as they say that this isn't exactly... normal."

"If I may ask sir, what does that mean?"

"Being honest, we have no clue, hence your part of the mission. Give intel."

"Roger."

Another 5 minutes, and the marines spot a conjunction of the secondary structuring, larger than other crossings, somewhere amid ships.

"Sir, I think this is the central hub. Time to go boom?"

"Enough to get an eyeball inside. If this thing has crew, we grill 'em."

"I've got a bad feeling about this.."

The marines set a breach charge, lit it off, and entered the chamber. The NCO looked around with his crew, and saw a roughly organic figure situated in the center, mounted to a rather gruesome apparatus that was part machine, part organic material. Helmet lights came on and revealed a very disfigured, and very alive, Kar-rastra suspended by several pseudo-mechanical limbs, most of them pumping something through a series of fleshy tubes, and his body regularly pulses with that fluid.

Blood.

"Sir... you're not gonna believe this.. it's.. it's not an AI at all.."

"Say again?"

"See for yourself, sir.." The marines broadcast their suit cams to the CIC of the Catalyst, which was in turn broadcasting to the Atlas and Chaos Theory. Now all of command knew of this hellship.

Part 2 to come soon, post is getting long and phone being stupid. Hope yall enjoy my take on space orcs!

Edit: part 2 is out, and kinda short, but it was, imo, a nice end to the short.

#humans are space orcs

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earlyandoftenpodcast · 7 years ago

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(Left: King William III. Right: William’s successor, Queen Anne.)

In this episode we jump back to England for a bit, to see how the political system there is evolving in the wake of the Glorious Revolution - and to see just how much England and the colonies have already diverged from each other.

>>>Direct audio link<<<

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Transcript and Sources:

Hello, and welcome to Early and Often: The History of Elections in America. Episode 25: The Last of the Stuarts.

Last time, we wrapped up the story of the Glorious Revolution as it played out in the colonies. Today, we’re going to look at the further political history of England, up through the death of Queen Anne, the last of the Stuart monarchs, 25 years later. This isn’t an English history podcast, but I thought it would be a good idea to give this period its own episode, since events in the colonies are more intertwined with England’s foreign policy than ever before, and you can’t understand their history without understanding a bit of the bigger picture.

My main source for this episode is the book A Land of Liberty?: England 1689-1727 by Julian Hoppit.

So it’s time to begin the reigns of William and Mary. Well, really mostly William, since his wife only wielded power when he was out of the country. And Mary died in 1694, just five years after taking the throne, leaving William to continue on as sole monarch for another eight years.

What sort of realm had they conquered?

Well, in 1689, England had a population of about 5 million, not too much higher than the population 50 years ago, of 4.5 million. For comparison, there were 22 million people in France. English life expectancy was in the mid-30s, which was actually high by European standards. 20% of English subjects now lived in urban areas, up from 10% at the start of the century. This was high relative to the rest of Europe. Over half of those city dwellers were in London itself, which had a population of 500,000.

England may have still been a mostly rural country, but it was no longer a medieval one. Markets were becoming more and more important as old traditions went into decline. The economy was now primarily based around private property, not ties of feudal obligation. And villages were reorganizing themselves to match the times. Much of the land which had previously been held commonly was now enclosed. That is, use of the land was now restricted to its owner, instead of being open to the community.

Agricultural productivity was rising, and the nation was increasingly linked together by a dense network of trade. In 1694 the Bank of England, one of the world’s first central banks, was founded, which greatly increased the fiscal capacity of the state and further modernized the economy as a whole.

And internationally, the English were surpassing the Dutch to become the world’s great trading nation. According to Hoppit, “improvements were being made to the quality of connections between England and her trading world. Developments in marine insurance, centring on Lloyd’s coffee-house, ship design and construction, and navigational aids all helped. Journey times were also tending to decrease and a greater volume of traffic meant news could be communicated more immediately…. Transatlantic packet boat services were established for military reasons in 1702 and 1710 and by 1730 it took London news ninety days to appear in the Boston News-Letter, compared to over 160 at the start of the century.”

So, all in all, William and Mary had conquered a nation on the rise. England wasn’t industrialized yet, but it was modernizing. But that didn’t mean that they could just sit back and let the country run itself. There were still plenty of political problems left to solve in the wake of the revolution. But thankfully for England, William was an able leader, smart and hardworking though not especially charismatic and always a foreigner.

His main goal in all this was to get money and men to fight France. He had to do a lot of other things to get that money -- appease Parliament, suppress a rebellion in Ireland -- but that was all secondary, a means to an end. As far as anyone at the time was concerned, this was the biggest change: England, the parliamentary naval power, was now at war with France, the autocratic land power and the leading nation in Europe.

We’re entering a period some historians have called the Second Hundred Years’ War -- a sustained off-and-on conflict between France and England, which in this case will last from 1689 to the fall of Napoleon in 1815. Britain and France will be at war over half the time in this period, the two mightiest powers of Europe battling for supremacy, a struggle that will shape American history even after independence.

This first war, known as the Nine Years’ War or as King William’s War in America, was basically a grand alliance between various European nations to check the ambitions of Louis XIV of France. France was at the height of its powers, and looking to dominate its neighbors, who naturally decided to fight back.

English sentiment had mostly been anti-French before the Glorious Revolution, but Charles II and James II had found it personally desirable to pursue a pro-French foreign policy instead. But now that William and Mary were on the throne, things could settle into a more natural pattern. Indeed, it was now very apparent that England and France were destined to become great rivals.

As far as the colonies were concerned, England’s war with France meant that they were going to war against the French colony of Quebec to the north, and their Indian allies.

Now, although France was first and foremost a land power, it had also acquired a colonial empire of its own. As of about 1700, France had possessions in India, South America, and the Caribbean, including Haiti, but these were mostly small outposts. At least in terms of geography, the largest French possession by far was in North America. This territory, known as New France, was vast. French explorers had traveled up the Saint Lawrence River to the Great Lakes, as well as up the Mississippi. They controlled, or at least claimed to control, all the land around both of these regions, in a big arc which reached from the Gulf of Mexico to the North Atlantic.

In other words, New France surrounded the English colonies. If the English tried to move inland, sooner or later they would hit French territory, no matter where they were. Obviously this greatly limited the possibility for future expansion.

Now, realistically, this control was mostly hypothetical. The French made big claims, but New France was very thinly populated, at least by Europeans. There had never been a big colonization push, and so the population remained many times smaller than in the English colonies, despite its much larger size. And anyway there wasn’t yet a permanent presence along the Mississippi. You can claim the entire Mississippi watershed, but if you only have like 15 guys there, who cares? That fact alone was probably enough to give the English a decisive advantage in the long run.

However, as we heard about in Episode 23, the English colonies were plagued by persistent military incompetence. As a result they suffered numerous humiliations and the French remained in North America for decades to come. But we’ll talk more about the wars in the colonies next time.

There’s no need to get into the details of the war in Europe either. The Nine Years’ War was fought on an unprecedentedly large scale, with armies of up to 100,000 men. However, few of those soldiers were English. The English instead focused their efforts at sea. Gradually, the allies wore France down, without scoring any major victories, until everyone was ready for peace. In 1697 the war finally came to a close. In Europe and in America, the results were inconclusive. Some territory changed hands, but none of the underlying issues were resolved. War would return to both continents within just a few years.

But basically, the Nine Years’ War was forgettable, as far as nine year-long wars go. There’s a reason you’ve probably barely heard of it. In the long run, the development of the English political system was far more important, so that’s what I’m going to spend most of this episode talking about.

The most important thing the Glorious Revolution did was cement Parliament’s ever-growing dominance. It was a mixed constitution, balanced between the king, the House of Lords, and the House of Commons, but with the Commons perpetually gaining in power. There was no sudden switch, no one moment where the king became a figurehead, but it was happening.

As part of this shift, the Privy Council, the king’s top advisors, were becoming less important. It was too unwieldy for one group of men to handle all affairs of state, so the Privy Council had been divided into smaller committees like the Lords of Trade, to handle specific issues. One of those committees was tasked with coordinating everything, and handling the most important matters. Naturally, this smaller group soon became central to the whole government. This is the origin of the modern British cabinet system.

Because Parliament was so powerful, it was important for the cabinet to have a working relationship with Parliament. So important, in fact, that Parliament could effectively control its membership, since the cabinet was useless without Parliamentary approval.

That’s a very quick summary of a very momentous and complex change, so let me resummarize, just to make sure everything’s clear. The Privy Council was eclipsed in importance by a smaller committee within the Privy Council. But this committee, or cabinet, was soon much more under the control of Parliament than of the king, and so the monarchy became hugely constrained in terms of which officials they could pick to run the government. That power too slowly passed into Parliamentary hands. The position of Prime Minister wouldn’t be created for a few more decades, but otherwise the English government was finally taking on a recognizably modern form.

This development never happened in the colonies. They were on their own path now.

But speaking of the colonies, although Parliament was gaining in power generally, the colonies were still mostly under the control of the king and he still had primary jurisdiction over them. Parliament was involved in things like the Navigation Acts, sure, but the colonies were the king’s domains first and foremost. He, or proprietors chosen by him, called the shots.

After the Glorious Revolution, Parliament did begin to take a more active role. After all, trade and government spending were under their authority, and both trade policy and spending on the colonies were of increasing importance. It wasn’t like before, where you could let people settle America on their own dime, with little need for oversight. Now, the colonies were valuable possessions which had to be defended.

But Parliament was still slow to take over direct administration, preferring instead to stick to indirect oversight, so this shift didn’t necessarily make a huge difference from the perspective of the colonists. After all, it was still Englishmen crafting English policy to suit English needs. It did mean that colonial policy was less feudal and less personalized, less tied to the interests of the royal family.

Despite previous attempts to centralize administration with bodies like the Lords of Trade, there was still no one person or group in charge of everything. The Lords of Trade themselves were replaced in 1696 with a slightly different group known as the Board of Trade. It wasn’t technically part of the Privy Council, but other than that it was basically the same thing, just with a less-cool name. And within the cabinet, the Secretary of State for the Southern Department was in charge of the colonies, along with a bunch of other, more important responsibilities. Plus other agencies like the Treasury, the navy, and the customs office all had their own agendas in America. Add to that the intermittent supervision of Parliament, and you can see why things were often an aimless mess. Considering the colonies’ importance, it was all pretty cobbled-together and half-hearted.

Still, given how things went when England took an active interest in the colonies, I’m sure the Americans were more than happy to be forgotten.

Back to England.

One of the most noteworthy developments of this period was the formation of permanent political factions which over time morphed into the first real modern parties in world history. The two main factions were the Whigs and the Tories, both of which slightly predated the Glorious Revolution.

The Whigs were the faction which had opposed James II. They had tried to force Charles II to exclude him from the line of succession on account of his Catholicism, and after James became king they still opposed him. At first they were seen as the enlightened, modern faction, opposed to the medieval pretensions of the Stuarts, and supportive of Parliamentary supremacy.

The Tories, on the other hand, had formed to defend everything that the Whigs were attacking. Well, everything other than Catholicism anyway. The Tories supported Anglicanism, obedience to the king, and a submissive Parliament. The Tories had only been convinced to support William’s invasion because it was so obvious that James was trying to boost Catholicism and destroy the Anglican settlement. Even then, the whole thing made them uneasy. They had basically sacrificed one of their big principles for the sake of another.

Outside of the Whigs and Tories, there were some radicals, including the Jacobites, who wanted to restore James II to the throne. Jacobite sentiments were particularly strong in Catholic Ireland and parts of Scotland. Indeed in 1690 James, backed by France, launched an unsuccessful attempt to retake England by first invading Ireland. But the Jacobite threat fizzled in the end. So it’s mainly the Whigs and Tories that we need to worry about.

King William at first tried to steer a middle course between the two but this proved impossible, since each side was unwilling to cooperate with the other. He wound up favoring the Whigs, even though the Whigs were enemies of royal power, since their views were otherwise more closely matched to his, and since the Tories were too closely tied to the previous regime. However, as time went on the Whigs got used to all of this power and so they moderated their anti-monarchical views. The Tories, on the other hand, since they were now on the outside, found themselves increasingly skeptical of royal power.

It would be impossible to speak of a single Whig ideology or a single Tory ideology. They were both nebulous and shifting coalitions finding their footing in a new political landscape. You could speak in general of Whig ideas or Tory ideas, but things get fuzzy if you look at the specifics or if you look at different points in time. They were two separate factions, but their interests and beliefs shifted over time, and sometimes they wound up swapping positions.

You might think that with the Glorious Revolution secured, the Whigs and Tories would dissolve. After all, the disputes that had led to their creation were now a thing of the past, and historically that would have been enough to end the squabbling. However, neither the Whigs nor the Tories were going anywhere.

In part, this was due to the passage of the Triennial Act in 1694. Under this bill, Parliament would meet once a year, and elections for a new Parliament would be held every three years. The goal was to limit the king’s powers over Parliament, by taking away his ability to call for new elections and to dismiss Parliaments at his leisure.

But the real impact of the Triennial Act was to plunge England into a period known as the “Rage of Party”. Frequent elections meant that people were more engaged with politics than ever before, and both the Whigs and the Tories were in fierce competition with each other. It was hard to get elected without belonging to a faction. Apparently some 80% of members of Parliament can clearly be identified as either Whigs or Tories. Even local officials were often associated with one faction or the other.

Also, in 1695 Parliament had allowed the Licensing Act to expire. The Licensing Act had basically authorized censorship of the press. All printers had to get a license from the government in order to print, and they could be shut down if they got on the wrong side of the king. When the Licensing Act expired there was a big boom in printing and pamphleteering. This made party politics even more intense than it already was. Day after day Tories and Whigs went after each other in the press. Very modern.

But despite all these new developments, voting rights remained quite limited. Things hadn’t really changed much in the past 80 years. In 1701, there were about 190,000 men with the right to vote, out of a population of 5.2 million. This was still high by the standards of the day -- partly just because there were any elections at all, which was unusual -- but those numbers weren’t increasing.

And there were plenty of other undemocratic elements beyond just these limited voting rights. First, both the monarch and the House of Lords still had major roles to play. And although the House of Commons was to some degree representative, it was still dominated by the well-to-do.

Second, most elections still went uncontested. There was often only one person running, and so the voters in that district had no choice in the matter. According to Hoppit, “in the fifteen general elections between 1689 and 1727 an average of just 37 per cent of constituencies were contested at the polls, ranging from a low of 23 per cent in 1689 to a high of 53 per cent in 1722”. And it was still the case that each constituency elected two seats to Parliament, so sometimes the Tories and Whigs would each agree to put forward a single candidate, sparing the need for a real vote. So even if you had the vote, you probably wouldn’t actually get to vote in a given election.

Third, when elections were disputed, things were decided by Parliament itself, which meant that the ruling party would invariably decide in favor of its own candidate. The Whigs would find in favor of the Whig and the Tories in favor of the Tory. So you couldn’t count on fairness in election procedures even when there was an election.

Fourth, the voting districts could be highly unequal in their populations. So-called rotten boroughs were so small that that they could easily be controlled by wealthy men or powerful families. I mean, some of these districts were so small that literally less than ten voters were living in them. On the other hand, burgeoning towns with thousands of people might have no representation at all.

And voting requirements varied considerably between England, Scotland, and Wales, introducing further geographic bias.

All these inequalities were holdovers from medieval times basically. Parliament hadn’t adjusted itself to modern conditions. Voting was still rather traditional, not something that needed to be rationalized. No one was thinking in terms of “one person, one vote” or anything like that. People were still debating whether authority flowed from the people or from God. They hadn’t really progressed to thinking about how authority might flow from the people. And since voting wasn’t seen as a universal right, there was no big push to change any of this.

(And in any case, the people as a whole didn’t have the same sort of economic or cultural power as they would later, so I rather suspect that the current arrangement matched the actual distribution of power in society, since there was no broad middle class or anything.)

I should emphasize that things haven’t gotten worse over the last century. (Worse from the perspective of someone who’s pro-democracy, I mean.) They’ve roughly stayed the same. It’s just that the first time I talked about it I emphasized how democratic England was relative to its contemporaries, whereas now I’m emphasizing how undemocratic it was relative to some hypothetical ideal that almost no one at the time believed in. Same facts, different emotional punch. Just something to keep in mind.

Anyway, while the electoral system of England was busy staying exactly the same, continental Europe was busy falling back into war with France. This new war, known as the War of the Spanish Succession, or as Queen Anne’s War in America, was caused by -- you guessed it -- the Spanish succession. When the king of Spain, the inbred and disabled Charles II, died childless, there was great concern over who would inherit his vast empire. One potential claimant was the grandson of Louis XIV. If he took the throne, then Spain would likely fall into line with France, increasing France’s status as a great power even more. The other European powers saw this as unacceptable and so they backed another claimant to the throne. No compromise could be reached and war broke out in 1702.

In England, King William began military preparations, but before he could finish, he fell off of his horse and broke his collarbone, which led to an infection that killed him within days. He was only 51. He had never really won the total support of his English subjects, though I think they generally respected him. He was not deeply mourned.

Since he and Mary had never had children, the throne passed to Mary’s sister Anne. Thus England and the Netherlands no longer shared a ruler. Anne was less able than William, and she was often incapacitated by illness, sometimes barely able to walk. But with the help of her advisors, business carried on.

Anne continued William’s policies. Less than a month after his death, she declared war on France. The war lasted almost the entirety of Anne’s reign, a full 13 years, only coming to an end in 1714, although English participation had wrapped up a bit before that. In the colonies, this meant a return to the same incompetence that defined the last war. I’ll get into more details on that later.

In Europe, the English had more success on the battlefield this time, but once again, it became a war of attrition with an inconclusive ending. The French managed to put their candidate on the Spanish throne, but were frustrated in many of their other ambitions.

Perhaps the most important result was that England had now become a major European power. Before, it had been a second-rate nation, not inconsequential, but also more of a follower than a leader. Now, it was the one financing the war against France, and the one coordinating strategy.

These two wars greatly expanded the power of the state. According to Hoppit, “In the ten years before the Glorious Revolution total government expenditure was usually about £1.7m a year. During the Nine Years War this had risen to £4.9m per annum and in the War of the Spanish Succession to £7.8m, with about three-quarters of expenditure in war years devoted to the military.” Spending went up, taxes went up, borrowing went up, and the bureaucracy grew accordingly. War was driving the creation of a modern state.

Domestically, there are a few important things to note during Queen Anne’s reign, most especially the Act of Union, which finally unified the governments of England and Scotland.

Let’s take a step back.

In the late 1200s, the English finished conquering Wales, and in the 1500s Wales was fully incorporated into the rest of England, so Wales operated under English laws, Welsh representatives sat in Parliament at London and so on. Ireland, on the other hand, had been slowly conquered by England over the course of centuries, but since it remained so culturally distinct, it continued to be ruled as a separate kingdom, with its own Parliament modeled on that of England’s.

Scotland, on the other hand, had been an independent nation which only united with England in 1603 because the King of Scotland, James I, happened to be the heir to the throne of England after Elizabeth. But this union was only partial. England and Scotland shared a monarch, but not much else. They had separate Parliaments, separate laws, separate varieties of Protestantism and so on.

This had benefits for Scotland, but it also had downsides. As a separate country, Scotland was cut off from many of the benefits of England’s empire. For instance, the Navigation Acts said that shipping to and from the colonies had to be carried out on English ships with English sailors, which obviously hurt the Scottish economy.

But over the last century, the two nations, which had previously been fierce rivals, had grown closer and closer. England had a much larger population than Scotland, and so the Scots naturally fell into orbit around England and around London, though they didn’t totally lose their national identity or anything.

Certainly the English wanted a closer union with Scotland, for reasons of national security. An independent Scotland could be used by some foreign power to invade England, after all. Scottish opinion was more mixed, and there were even people who proposed dissolving the union altogether when Anne died.

But in the end, negotiations for a closer union succeeded completely. England and Scotland were to become a single kingdom. Scotland was allowed to keep its own laws and its own national church, but the two Parliaments were to be merged into one. Anne was no longer Queen of England, Queen of Scotland, and Queen of Ireland. Now, she was the Queen of Great Britain, and of Ireland. So from now on, the American colonies can’t be referred to as English colonies anymore. They’re British colonies.

There was still discontent in Scotland, sometimes violent discontent, but in the end the union held. And in fact, the Scottish people, despite their small size, would have an outsized presence in the British empire, and in British culture at large, thanks especially to prominent scholars like Adam Smith and David Hume.

Beyond the Act of Union, the slow progress of political development continued.

Unlike William, who favored the Whigs, Queen Anne favored moderate Tories, and they were generally dominant under her rule. But that didn’t mean that the Tories had total control. Anne was still able to shape policy somewhat, thanks to the fact that the Whigs and Tories hadn’t yet become proper parties.

In a modern Parliamentary democracy, whichever party gets a majority, or, if no one gets a majority, whoever can assemble a large enough coalition of parties, gets to form the government. But political power at this point wasn’t just a straightforward product of how many seats in Parliament you had. The Queen could pick leaders from the minority faction if she wanted, and try to peel off moderate members of the majority faction into supporting her agenda. Sometimes bribery was used, for instance offering someone a lordship for their support.

Today, parties are much more disciplined. Members of a party very reliably vote the same way on a given issue. That was less true back then. Today, if you tried to run Parliament through the minority party, the majority could just block all of your actions, but back then a minority government could hope to get some support from members of other factions. Enough to pass important bills, at least. Still, as king or queen the will of Parliament was a major constraint on your actions. You had to choose leaders who were reasonably acceptable to a majority of Parliament, even if they didn’t come from the majority faction.

Queen Anne didn’t have any heirs. She had been pregnant seventeen times, but a full twelve of those pregnancies had been stillborn or miscarried. Four of her children died before they turned two years old. Her only child to survive beyond that was always sickly and died at age 11. This personal tragedy created a national problem: without a direct heir, the line of succession reverted back to Catholics.

To fix this problem in 1701 Parliament had passed the Act of Settlement, which forever forbade Catholics from taking the throne. As a result, the line of succession jumped to some distant relatives, the House of Hanover, a German dynasty who were currently ruling a medium-sized territory in the Holy Roman Empire.

Anne died in 1714 at the age of 49, soon after the War of the Spanish Succession formally ended. With her death, the Stuart dynasty lost the British throne, and power peacefully passed to George I, first of the Hanoverians.

Next episode, we’ll return to New England to see how well they’re doing now that the Dominion has been overthrown. Spoiler alert: this is the time of the Salem witch trials, so not great. But still, join me next time on Early and Often: The History of Elections in America.

If you like the podcast, please rate it on iTunes. You can also keep track of Early and Often on Twitter, at earlyoftenpod, or read transcripts of every episode at the blog, at earlyandoftenpodcast.wordpress.com. Thanks for listening.

Sources:

Revolutionary New England, 1691-1776 by James Truslow Adams

A Land of Liberty?: England, 1689–1727 by Julian Hoppit

Adjustment to Empire: The New England Colonies 1675-1715 by Richard R. Johnson

Colonial Massachusetts -- A History by Benjamin W. Labaree

The Glorious Revolution in America by David S. Lovejoy

The American Colonies in the Eighteenth Century, Volume I by Herbert L. Osgood

History of New England, Volume IV by John Gorham Palfrey

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genuine-history-blog · 6 years ago

Text

The victory of Generalissimo Stalin: World War II

The Victory which Stalin called for took a long time and great sacrifice to achieve. Just as the twenty-two months of the pact had been a monstrous chess game between the two dictators, with whole countries as the pieces, so the war became a duel to the death between the two men, using their armed forces as weapons, as each assumed personal control of his country's operations and strategy. Hitler had proclaimed himself Supreme Commander when he established the OKW in February 1938; on 19 December 1941, he also took over from Brauchitsch as Commander-in-Chief of the army. Stalin consolidated his own position in three stages becoming chairman of the newly created State Defence Committee, a body with overriding powers in all military, civil and economic matters, on 30 June; Chairman of the Stavka, a combined GHQ and high command, on 10 July; and taking over from Timoshenko as Defence Commissar on 19 July. On 8 August, he was officially named as Supreme Commander of the Soviet Union a title which later became transmuted into the one word 'Generalissimo'.

The two war lords both had a great deal to learn and both made huge mistakes and miscalculations, for which millions of their subjects paid with their lives from the very start. Stalin had misinterpreted Hitler's intentions, exposing his people to the power and savagery of the German attack without adequate preparation or protection. Hitler for his part had underestimated the size of the task he had given his armies, both in terms of the immense spaces of the Soviet Union and of the determination and toughness of the Soviet people.

Hitler had also seriously underestimated the severity of the Russian climate, or rather, his arrogant certainty that the campaign would be over in a few weeks - 'You have only to kick in the door and the whole rotten structure will come crashing down' - had led him to disregard the need to provide his soldiers with adequate protection against the Russian winter. He had tempted providence by launching his invasion on the very anniversary of Napoleon's ill-fated attack in 1812, without taking heed of the disasters which befell the French Grande Armee. Napoleon actually took Moscow before the weather forced him to withdraw. Hitler's armies reached the suburbs in the autumn of 1941, and on 16 October the city was evacuated in a great panic. But Stalin stayed put in the Kremlin, and was saved by three great Russian generals: General Mud, General Winter and finally General Zhukov.

The mud brought the first German advance to a halt in late October, when the autumn rains turned the dirt roads and indeed the whole countryside into a quagmire, bogging down men and machines and preventing supplies reaching the tanks and other tracked vehicles which could traverse the sodden terrain. With the frosts of November, the ground hardened again, and the assault on Moscow could be continued. But by then the Red Army had been able to bring up reserves and reinforcements, and to prepare the city's defences in depth.

By the time the Wehrmacht was ready to start hurling itself at Moscow again, winter was closing in. Without adequate clothing, the German troops began freezing to death. Soon, General Guderian was losing up to 1,200 men a day to frostbite, and any wounded who were not carried into cover within minutes had no hope of survival. Guns and equipment jammed as the lubricating oils froze solid. Fires had to be lit under tanks to thaw out their engines, turrets and tracks in temperatures which according to German sources plummeted to an awesome -52°C - though the Soviets dismissively say they were no worse than the 'normal' 30-40° below zero.

On 6 December, their latest assault battered to a freezing standstill by grimly determined defenders less than fifteen miles from the Kremlin itself, the Germans suddenly found themselves facing a third and even more fearsome enemy when Zhukov unleashed his great counter-attack. For five and a half months, the Wehrmacht had rampaged through the Soviet Union, killing and capturing and destroying. They had taken well over two million prisoners, more than half a million at Kiev alone, and inflicted hundreds of thousands of casualties. Although they were themselves almost exhausted they were entitled to expect that the Red Army must be at its last gasp. And yet, suddenly, they found themselves facing powerful new armies, well equipped, warmly clad, tougher even than the elite SS Panzer troops. To the reserves he had dredged up from new conscripts and the remnants of the western armies, Zhukov had been able to add massive reinforcements from the Far East, battle hardened Siberian troops to whom the Moscow temperatures seemed like a mild spring day. Japan, still smarting from the defeats inflicted upon them by Zhukov himself with these very troops, and bound by the treaty they had signed with Stalin on 13 April 1941, had decided not to enter the war against the Soviet Union, but to attack America instead. Master spy Richard Sorge, in his last coup before he was discovered and arrested in September, had informed Moscow that they had nothing to fear from the Japanese that year. Stalin had promptly transferred half the entire strength of the Far Eastern Command to the defence of Moscow, some ten rifle divisions, plus 1,000 tanks and 1,000 aircraft. Zhukov was therefore able to hit the Germans with three fresh armies made up of over a million men, including some of the toughest fighters in the world. Within three weeks he had driven the enemy back nearly a hundred miles.

'The miracle of Moscow' was Hitler's first major defeat, but the war was far from over. It was to take Stalin two years before he finally learned how to destroy Hitler's Wehrmacht, and another one and a half years after that to complete the process. In truth, however, it is doubtful whether Hitler ever had the resources to accomplish his plan. He had counted on only a short campaign, but found himself trapped in a long and bloody conflict. The riches he had sought in the Ukraine and the rest of European Russia eluded him, for in addition to Stalin's scorchedearth policy, with crops, mines and railways destroyed and dams blown, the Soviets physically moved whole industries out of the combat areas even faster than the German Panzers advanced. Between July and November 1941, a total of 1,523 complete installations, 1,360 of which were major facilities directly involved in armament production, were dismantled, transported to safety east of the Urals on the equivalent of a million and a half freight cars, and reassembled. Ten million workers were shipped out to man them. By the end of the year, the factories which Hitler had hoped to capture and turn to his own use were back in production and sending heavy tanks and other weapons to the front to join in the fight against him.

For the whole of 1942, the struggle swayed to and fro, with victories and defeats for both sides. The next major turning point came at Stalingrad, where the Red Army inflicted a second crushing defeat on the Germans in January 1943, but it was not until the Battle of the Kursk Salient, in July and August of that year, that Stalin finally gained the upper hand. Kursk, the greatest land battle in history, with some 6,300 tanks and over two million men engaged in an area only fifty miles in length and fifteen miles deep, was also the most decisive of the second world war. In the cauldron of Kursk, Hitler's Panzer strength was so badly smashed that recovery was impossible and his ultimate defeat inevitable.

Stalin had learned how to win but the cost had been truly terrible. By the time his troops raised the red flag over the ruins of Berlin on 1 May 1945, over twenty million Soviet citizens had been killed the equivalent of nine lives lost every minute of the war, 587 every hour, and 14,000 every single day. There were countless villages where not one man came back from the war. And for the Germans, the losses were proportionately almost as heavy. There are no precise figures available for German deaths related specifically to the eastern front; estimates vary from the Soviet figure of over ten million to more conservative Western figures of around five million dead and missing. For both nations, the result was a tragedy.

Hitler may have won the chess game leading from the signing of the non-aggression pact to the launch of 'Barbarossa'. But it was Stalin who emerged victorious at the end of the war as the most powerful politician in the world, While the Nazi dictator committed suicide in his bunker beneath the devastated remains of the Chancellery on 30 April 1945. And it was Stalin who determined that neither he nor his country would ever be caught unprepared again, and who extended his empire to set up a solid wall of buffer states to protect his western frontiers, behind what Winston Churchill described as 'an iron curtain' from the Baltic to the Black Sea.

#stalin #world war ii #germany #winston churchill #hitler #soviet union #soviet #history

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vamonumentlandscape · 3 years ago

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Alexandria, VA

After a quick bite for breakfast at our hotel, we took the Metro to head over to Alexandria. We wanted to stop at sites related to African-American history that Rebecca Grawl, the Lincoln assassination tour guide, informed us about. We set out to visit them all on our third day in the area. The first stop was a quick walk over to the site of the Freedom House Museum and the Shiloh Baptist Church. According to the historical sign, the latter was originally a place for free African-Americans to find refuge. A historically Black congregation has flourished at the West Street church and has hosted prominent visitors like Representative John Mercer Langston, Dr. Dorothy Height, and President George W. Bush. Close to the site of this church is the Freedom House Museum, which was once the headquarters for one of the largest slave-trading companies in the entire country, Franklin and Armfield. The company's owners held enslaved persons in pens before shipping the majority South to places like Louisiana and Mississippi, where they could charge for higher prices as the demand for enslaved laborers was high. Until 1861, the brick building that each of us stood in front of was owned by slave trading companies. Though the Freedom Museum is currently closed, they have an important role in sharing experiences from the enslaved that were in Alexandria. These two sites show the progress that has been made in developing better opportunities and experiences, but one also shows the constant presence of a painful past that takes decades to unravel. Getting in touch and learning from that past is possible for all citizens with the Freedom House.

After a long walk, we had finally reached the site we all had been anticipating most for our trip to Alexandria: The Contraband and Freedmen Memorial. As soon as you walk up to the cemetery, you see the sidewalk has different colored bricks. This symbolizes graves of freed African American men, women, and children under each tan brick. This alone struck a tear from each of us. We all knew this was going to be a difficult monument to grasp. You walk into the gates of the cemetery to see two graves that have created life size interpretations of coffins for an adult and child. The cemetery was dedicated in 1864 by the Union forces for freed African Americans in the area. Due to the amount of enslaved people making the journey to freedom, many had poor health from living conditions, prior treatment, and the journey alone. The cemetery was for those people in this area. Soon after the war ended, the cemetery was abandoned. Over 1,700 people are buried here, but their graves would not be respected or acknowledged again for over one hundred years. On the site, there was once a gas station and office building that desecrated the grounds. The same cement floor that once was the gas station’s floor is still there to house the monument. The archaeologists worried removing it would disturb and destroy too many graves. It is hard to imagine 20th and 21st century people coming and going to fill up their tanks where so many people were laid to rest. Of course those who constructed both buildings cannot be blamed as they most likely had no idea. There are likely more sites like this to be discovered throughout the country. As you go further into the memorial, you see a grand statue titled The Path of Thorns and Roses that breathtakingly details the struggle and triumph of African Americans. On cement panels, the memorial describes life in the area for newly freed slaves. Education, shelter, family, and work are all discussed. One of the most touching pieces of the memorial are the small additions besides names of those buried that say: “Living Descendant Found.” This is encouraging to know that these people who fought for freedom still have survivors today. This memorials' location can describe the perspective for many Americans who do not understand why African American and enslaved peoples history is so important to learn about and is increasingly being discussed. Directly across the street there is a white cemetery that is still used from the 18th century. How does one survive but another doesn’t when both hold free, American citizens? The cemetery was long forgotten about, along with so many other pieces of history that our white ancestors felt were not important, all because of the skin color of those who were buried. This is the case for many “hidden histories'' across our great nation that are finally being told today. We are so thankful that today we are in a place where not only can we learn one side of history, but now we are able to see everyone's side.

On our way to see the relatively new Loving v. Virginia signage, we encountered another place of worship called the Beulah Baptist Church. We learned from the church’s historical marker that many freed enslaved people sought out the First Select Colored School led by Rev. Clement “Clem” Robinson beginning in 1862. Morning and evening classes were packed with African-Americans seeking a quality education. When the Union began to occupy Alexandria, the Beulah Baptist Church congregation was the first African-American church in the city. Education was central to Beulah’s cause ever since it was set up in the neighborhood. We were trying to find the Loving v. Virginia signage for about 10 minutes before finally locating it on a lightpost. It details the Law Office of Cohen, Hirschkop, and Hall that was located at 110 N. Royal Street. Richard Loving famously told his lawyer fighting Virginia’s ban against interracial marriage to “tell the court I love my wife and it is just unfair that I can’t live with her in Virginia.” Richard and Mildred won their case and similar interracial marriage laws were struck down acorss the entire country after the Supreme Court weighed in. Both places are incredibly meaningful and deserve to be remembered in Virginia.

Alexandria was full of Easter eggs for us history buffs. On the way to the Alexandria Library, we were shocked to see yet another historic African American Church. The Roberts Memorial United Methodist Church began in 1834 with prominent members of African American society that attended. The church's congregation was originally a part of the white Trinity Methodist Episcopal Church, but founded their own congregation and created a space for worship. Not only were they a church, but also offered basic academic education in their Sunday School lessons. Notable visitors to the church were Booker T. Washington and Frederick Douglass. We were all very excited when we came across this important site. Next, we were able to visit the Alexandria Library to see the memorial plaque to the 1939 sit in. Five young African American men walked into the whites-only library and requested library cards. When William Evans, Edward Gaddie, Morris Murray, Clarence Strange, and Otto Tucker were rejected, they sat down and began to read. Their peaceful resistance was barely recognized. Instead of integrating services, the city constructed a separate library space called the Robert H. Robinson Library in 1940. In the wake of Civil Rights protests, the library system only began desegregating in 1959. Thankfully, the young men’s efforts are now recognized on this plaque and in the old African American Library, now a museum.

Though we did not mean to encounter the burial site of at least 30 Confederate soldiers at Christ Church on Washington Street, we did when on our way to our last stop. The engraved stone marker that indicates this was erected in 2002. They were disinterred from the Alexandria Soldiers Cemetery to be placed at their current resting place. Interestingly enough, a Black Lives Matter sign is hung on the fence right next to where the marker sits. It is remarkable to see how quickly the values of the City of Alexandria and its residents have shifted. We saw Pride flags and progressive signs throughout our walk through the area. The Confederate marker just seemed out of place. While the graves should likely not be moved, balance and context are the best way to address their presence. This exists with the placement of the BLM sign. It is not actively disrespecting those that died. It simply allows all to feel welcome at the church and see themselves represented in their values.

Our last stop in Alexandria was at the Edmonson Sisters Statue. Mary and Emily Edmonson were due to be sold in the notorious slave block in Alexandria owned by Joseph Bruin. The sisters, alongside 75 other enslaved people, attempted a rebellion and escape on the slave ship Pearl. Sadly though, the attempt failed and the ship arrived in Alexandria. The fate of many of the enslaved people would be to go deeper south, but thankfully for Mary and Emily, their lives took a different turn. Though the sisters were bought by Bruin and destined for a horrific fate in the deep south, the work of abolitionists changed their lives forever. Abolitionists raised enough money to buy the sisters freedom and allow them both to live a free, happy life. It is stories of triumph like these that allow for all Americans to see the heroism and bravery of our ancestors before us.

#alexandria #va #monument #history #enslaved people #cemetery #loving v. virginia #memorials #edmonson sister

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covid19updater · 5 years ago

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COVID19 UPDATES: 03/21/2020

Quote for the day: "Right now, ladies and gentlemen, I think we have to face the very real possibility that we are on our own." ---Stephen King, UNDER THE DOME

US: Fox Business host Lou Dobbs in self quarantine after staffer tests positive for Covid-19 - Hill

California: New Los Angeles San Fernando Valley, Sylmar, CA Tents and Security up and running at OliveView Medical Center in front of ER it is a drive in tent then another decontamination

US: Could Trump declare national coronavirus shutdown? Momentum is rising. LINK

US: #NEW: President Trump has declared a major disaster in #NewYork State due to #coronavirus; orders federal assistance. - BNO

California: #California: L.A. County gives up on containing #coronavirus, tells doctors to skip testing of some patients

RUMINT: Tennessee: Picture supposedly of part of parking deck at Vanderbilt Medical Center converted over to bed space. LINK

RUMINT (Mississippi): Evening! Have to go back to work tomorrow after 5 glorious days off. Been getting reports from my coworkers that they are being refused masks when taking care of possible CoVid pts. Um, no. I LOVE my job, but I'm not down to die for a company that will replace me before I'm in the ground. We've had a positive patient who was on the floor for 3 days before the test came back positive. Nobody wore any PPE other than the standard gloves. Numerous staff were exposed, one is in her 3rd trimester and one told the hospital they'll get her badge in the mail. Her 4 yo has pneumonia and now they think it could be CoVid that her mom may have brought home. Please, please, please raise hell wherever you are in the world for your healthcare workers to get the proper PPE as YOUR life may depend on it. I mean from EMS on the streets, to the docs in the hospital and everyone who works in a hospital. It takes all of us to run it, not just doctors and nurses. Stay home, wash your hands and pray for us on the front lines, including those in trade jobs who are busting their asses to keep us healthcare workers in business!

Massachusetts: 60 people quarantined at a assisted living facility on Cape Cod in Massachusetts after a resident tests positive.

NYC: Majority of NYC’s coronavirus cases are men between 18 and 49 years old LINK

RUMINT (UK): Morning from Southern England! It's cold but there's sunshine for today and most of the coming week. Still have a consultant job (work from home) for the next four weeks at least. Might have been exposed 9 or 10 days ago, the person I sat with in Germany (he's from the UK) in the office for two/three days is now very unwell (and his wife has become sick) with what appears to be COVID19. They aren't testing most people unless they need a hospital admission, so he hasn't been tested yet. By the sounds of it, he will need admitting to hospital. None of us, his work colleagues are sick (yet). Got an email yesterday from the Taxman (HMRC) for my business. They are throwing the kitchen sink at this. Suddenly after years of austerity under Cameron and May (all false looking at things now), they can pull a couple of trillion pounds (and yes, since this has just started with 350 billion, it will probably take a couple of trillion) out of thin air and basically most people don't need to work. Starting to look like the cycles of boom and bust were fake, engineered to keep most of us poor. Anyway, I basically don't have to pay tax this year (personal or corporate), even the quarterly payments of VAT I collect for the government (equiv to $11,000 every three months) don't have to be paid. There is no interest on any loans. In summary, the government APPEAR to know that this is the end of the UK (and the world) if they don't throw everything at this. The speed at which this has been organised is incredible. They know if they don't pay people out of their pockets, then the country would descend into anarchy and they would be just as fucked because society would break down, no supply chain for anything and EVERYONE would be dead in weeks except for the few in the UK like us who are armed and have six months of supplies. They are managing to keep everyone on the same page in the UK for now with these financial arrangements. The people of this country don't realise how VERY close to the edge everything is and just how VERY bad things are about to get. The virus is now everywhere, in every town and the main vector will be supermarkets now. These next two weeks will see all hospital overwhelmed as they go past surge capacity in the next three days.

Germany: BREAKING - The number of young #COVID19 patients is on the rise in Germany. "The youngest symptomatic patients are in their early 20s. We see the entire demographic age spectrum, whether in the normal ward or ICU," says Chief Physician of the Infectiology at a Munich clinic.

Spain: +233 deaths and +3.355 cases. So 24.926 cases and 1.326 deaths in Spain!

RUMINT (Hong Kong): ..... it’s complete madness right. HK largely on lockdown since end Jan. It looked like it was stabilising so some people started going back to working then the numbers just spike again. No idea how it ends

Russia: Footage of ambulances lined up bringing COVID19 patients to hospital in Moscow. LINK

China: A 26-yr-old woman surnamed Huang in South China's Guangxi Province was retested positive for nucleic acid 31 days after discharge. Huang was confirmed on Jan 30, and was treated in hospital. After being cured on Feb 10, she was retested positive in hospital on Mar 12.

New York: #BREAKING US STATE OF NEW YORK REPORTS 3,254 NEW CASES OF CORONAVIRUS, RAISING TOTAL TO 10,356 CASES - GOVERNOR

New York: Younger people listen up: 55% of NYS #Coronavirus cases are ages 18-49.Young people aren’t invincible. You can get this and you can give it to someone older you love. You shouldn’t endanger your own health & you certainly shouldn't endanger other people's health. #StayAtHome

New York: NY Governor Cuomo: "You have to expect at the end of the day, 40% to 80% of the population is going to be infected. So the only question is how fast is the rate...and can you slow that rate so your hospital system can deal with it."

New Jersey: Top New Jersey health official Judith Persichilli says everyone will get coronavirus. New Jersey’s top public health official says everyone, including her, will eventually contract the coronavirus. “I’m definitely going to get it. We all are,” Judith Persichilli told NJ.com. “I’m just waiting.”

Italy: CORONAVIRUS DEATH TOLL IN WORST-AFFECTED ITALIAN REGION LOMBARDY RISES BY 546 IN PAST 24 HOURS TO 3,095 - OFFICIALS

New York: UPDATE: NYC Covid-19 cases rise to 7,530 approximately 1,300 higher than Cuomo announced an hour ago with 45 deaths - NBCNY

Eugene Gu, MD: The combination of hydroxychloroquine and azithromycin to treat the coronavirus has not been proven safe and effective through large scale clinical trials. There is only anecdotal evidence from case reports in countries overseas. Promising them as miracle drugs gives false hope. I know this is an emergency and we are desperate. But as a physician, I took a solemn oath to “first, do no harm.” That means not testing off label drugs on human patients that may have side effects like vision and hearing loss, heart problems, and death for an unproven benefit.

UK: Rioting and looting have already started in London. LINK

Georgia: View of the TSA security line at Atlanta’s airport. LINK

Italy: BIG BREAKING: Italy reports 6557 new cases of #Coronavirus and 793 new deaths.Total number of Confirmed cases reach 53,578 and Total death toll reaches 4825. Fatality rate= 9%

US: John Bolton declares China 'responsible' for coronavirus outbreak, says world must hold them 'accountable' LINK

UK: CORONAVIRUS DEATH TOLL IN THE UK HAS REACHED 233 AFTER NHS ENGLAND SAID A FURTHER 53 PEOPLE HAD DIED IN ENGLAND AFTER TESTING POSITIVE

US: BREAKING - US Vice President Mike Pence and his wife will be tested for #COVID19 this afternoon.

UK: Frontline NHS staff risk "cross infecting everybody" because they are not getting the recommended protective equipment, a consultant has warned.The face mask, short gloves and apron worn by NHS staff is far short of the World Health Organization recommendations, Dr Lisa Anderson of St George's Hospital, London, said. Former Health Secretary Jeremy Hunt told the government to "sort this out". LINK

US: BREAKING: Ground stop now in effect — all departures stopped — for JFK, LGA, EWR due to positive covid-19 tests. Other regional airspace sectors halted through key “gates” through NY air traffic areas. -Sources

World: The number of confirmed cases of coronavirus worldwide has surpassed 300,000, an increase of 50,000 in one day

Europe: - France: 1,847 new cases, 112 new deaths - UK: 1,035 new cases, 56 new deaths

US: Mark Dice’s commentary on celebrities and COVID19. LINK

New Orleans: A Medical worker describes his experiences treating COVID19. LINK

US: USA + 4759 new cases = 24,142 cases + 32 new RIP = 288 RIP

Israel: Official statement from the Israeli Foreign Ministry was just posted, calling on all Israelis worldwide to return to Israel before a full lockdown is imposed and cancellation of all flights.

Ukraine: 10 new COVID19 infections registered in Chernivtsi region, 1 in Zhytomyr region, 2 in Kyiv region, 1 in Donetsk region, 2 in Ivano-Frankivsk and 2 in Kyiv city. Total 47 confirmed cases in Ukraine

Florida: FL Gov. DeSantis says the test results coming today "are coming from the last two weeks." South Florida "is a challenge now" he says in terms of COVID-19.

US: Newsweek: Inside the Government Continuity of Operations Plans. LINK

US: Newsweek: Inisde the Military plans to stop civil disturbances from COVID19. LINK

US: To help put the size of the Navy's hospital ships into perspective, this is a photo of USNS Mercy alongside the aircraft carrier USS Abraham Lincoln. LINK

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bartallenisbae · 7 years ago

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The Newest Green lantern

This is basically a Christian comic book so if you don’t believe in God you might wan to scroll down

I don’t own anything I just own My oc and this is based on young justice universe and I don’t know much about the green lanterns so I’m having some of the green lantern movie that sucked also this is based on if DC worshiped God and had him be the source of power and there is a bit of feminism

I would love if you liked and commented,I’m pretty new at writing

God created the earth but also created the other living planets.God saw that the Devil was sending Demons on those planets after Jesus had died for all of his people including the other planets and resurrected. God had created the lanterns and other superheroes to stop the demons and to help protect his people.

Almost all the green lanterns were on mogo(The green lanterns planet basically) and they were in a serious situation,Ferenc Aldebaran was back. Sodam yat,one of their best green lantern’s has had his ship lose control from damage after a battle.They have no idea who will be positioned to get the newest power ring, even Hal jordan was a bit nervous,Who would God choose to be the newest green lantern.

Amanda Farwell was just trying to get through another day of school and life. All she wanted to do was go home and hug her dogs after being alone for so long. She was just a girl that respected other’s belief but others didn’t accept hers.

She was a strong hearted christian that tried to do everything God said to in the Bible. She was normally upfront about what she believed and didn’t want to hurt others like those people who hate police because one police guy shot someone.

She had no care in the world that others didn’t have the same belief as her heck she was glad others didn’t because it would be boring.She never wanted to harm anyone unless they meant to hurt others and felt that no one deserves to be cussed at. She didn’t have many friends hardly any,she was bullied quite a bit for saying what she thought a lot but that didn't stop her,She sat alone at lunch and no one ever bothered to sit next to her.

She had one best friend and a few online friends she talks(texts) to. She had four older siblings. Tom was the oldest, Tiffany was the second,Asher was the third, Milo was the fourth and Amanda was the youngest,the fifth.

Her brother tom and her don’t know each other much since he left for college when he was 18 and she was like 6 but she still loved him with all her heart .Her sister Tiffany and her love each other more than anything but Amanda has to admit that she is jealous of her.Tiffany is the perfect daughter,she was cheer captain,class president,she was popular,hard working, and is now a perfect wife and mother now.

Her brother Asher was the troubled kid but he ended up good.He caused her parents to fight with each other a bit more then they usually do, they fought over what was good for his well being. Asher did some drugs and got into some pretty bad stuff but after all the trouble he ended up signing up for the army.She loved Asher and she knew him better than she knew her brother tom.

Milo was a teddy bear and the closest sibling to her that she knows. They both had a lot in common. Milo moved out recently and Amanda did miss him a lot but she wasn’t going to miss the smell of his room. All her siblings were out of the house living their own lives and where all christians like her .

Her Dad was very passionate over things he loved and could ramble for hours over science but he did have quite the temper when he was frustrated. He never hurt her but his temper was annoying,he would put a fake laugh but it was easy to see it was fake.Her dad was also a christian.

Her mom was a loving and caring and patient christian woman who was very hard working and loved being a mother so much that she started a home daycare and she watched a few kids,one of the most challenging kids was a autistic child that was 3 and he was nonverbal which means he can’t speak.

His name was timmy and he was the reason Amanda wanted autism to be in movies more often and to be talked about more often since gays and trans act like they have have the worst life while timmy may never be able to speak,yes she did believe that gays and trans deserve respect and have no right to be bullied but if you try to take others rights away just because they think that gay marriage is wrong then they will end up with no rights at all.

To be honest Amanda has been told that she is a lot like her mom. Amanda was loving,caring,dorky,passionate over what she loves which is reading, and brave and shy when it comes to new people.

Amanda had blonde hair,wasn’t that tall,she was 16 and wasn’t that good at science or any math and loved going on walks she wasn’t that big a fan of running which her parents bothered her about.

Sodam yat had his green lantern suit on,he had black hair that was shaved on left and right but not on top and his ship.Sodam yat was on his ship heading towards earth. He had no control of his ship since something broke during the battle with Ferenc Aldebaran and hal Jordan was on morgo so he was alone,he prayed that God would save him but he had a feeling that heaven wasn’t that far from him now.

If he lands on earth at the speed he was going there was no way he wouldn't make it out alive. He was about to hit earth so he sent one last message to his lantern brothers and sisters “my family,there is a big chance I will not make out this so I will ask God to have my ring to find a new lantern and hopefully I will have enough life in me to tell him or her what to do,Hal jordan I am going to hit earth there is no time for you to save me before I die,You hal jordan you will need to teach the new lantern,God has always had the ring pick who is best to join the lanterns with his power.goodbye my friends I pray that God will have others tell my story*crash*”.

As sodam yat hit earth,he landed in lake Michigan in the water.He got his ring off and told it “God I beg of you to find someone who will use this ring you gave them for good”.The ring flew to go do what sodam yat told it to do.

This happened at night so if you saw it,it would seem like a green shooting star(yeah the ring was going pretty fast,and yes the justice league did see the ship crash but they covered it up saying it was a asteroid)

Amanda was wearing a t-shirt and long jeans with her hair in a ponytail.Amanda was in geometry trying to understand it which she hardly ever did,when someone hit her in the back of her with a piece of paper crushed into a ball. Amanda picked up the paper and read it. It said “You dumb blonde just go away, no one want’s a loser that can’t even answer a simple math problem but acts like she is so smart”

While she was reading the note it was easy to hear whispering laughs of students.Amanda just ignored it and got up and threw it away.She knew that she would graduate from the nightmare of a school and go to the city and become an author.While those boys would be getting drunk in their homeless junkyard,alone.

All she hand had to do was survive one this class and she would be able to leave and go home to read while hugging her dog princess.When the bell rang she got her stuff and left.She didn’t have homework since she was able to finish all of it since she had a lot of alone time to do it in school.She knew God's promise would full fill.I will curse those who curse you and bless those who bless you God told Abraham.

To be honest she wasn’t a fan of abraham or the most famous prophet’s like david.She felt horrible for hagar and bathsheba in the bible. Both had no choice like esther to have to slept with men. She wouldn’t be able to say that esther,hagar,and bathsheba weren’t raped by abraham,david,and the king in esther’s time but she couldn’t say they were. It’s not that she hated abraham or david oh no she was amazed how God used them. It was more like when you like a character but they aren’t your favorite.

Her favorite was elijah,he was loyal yet had his doubts like everyone has at some point,it never mentioned in the bible if he had a wife or wives,he was harsh but he helped a lot of people too.

She was home home alone,her parents were going out to dinner at a restaurant since it was friday night. Amanda changed her clothes,she wore a green crop top and long jeans with her hair in a french braid .She was eating ordered pizza that she ordered while her dog princess was sitting on the couch next to her and her dog Oreo was sitting on the rug next to her. The living room was painted light yellow and the two couches were brown and leather.

Princess was a great dog that was old, she had been part of the family since Amanda was 3,Princess was so patient that a few daycare kids have slept on her and she just laid there until they woke up. Princess was a brindle boxer.

Her other dog Oreo was a brat that only loved Amanda’s mom when her mom was around but she did love Oreo even if she only showed affection to her mom.Oreo was a morkie and was 3 years old.

Amanda was reading a good fanfic in the middle of the night around 11:30 when her dog Oreo was bothering her about going outside so she got up from the couch “Princess don’t move i’ll be right back” Amanda said not wanting her old dog to get up and follow her to see if she is heading for food.

When Amanda let Oreo out she saw something, ‘it is an asteroid’ Amanda thought as she got out her phone to see if there was any report of any asteroid shower ,and there was a news thing saying there was a small sized asteroid heading towards earth. Amanda shrugged and went back inside.

She was back to petting her her dog when she felt something go into her back,like a breeze(it was the ring).Amanda ignored it,she heard her dog oreo wanted to come inside so Amanda went to let her dog in. When she let her dog in she became a green ball and flew,Amanda screamed in confusion.

She ended up at lake michigan. She looked around confused “How the heck did I end up here” Amanda screamed.Amanda gasped when she saw the alien ship,She ran to the ship to help,she went to help and see if anyone was in the ship.

Other’s would run away but Amanda was too curious of a girl to go tell someone then not know what just happened and what was in that ship. She walked slowly and cautiously to the ship,She heard someone breathing hard,the noise was coming from the ship.

The ship was as big as a classroom, it was black and it had certain parts of the ship that glowed green. Inside the ship was a man well she thought he was,he looked human but something was different about him.He had black hair and brown eye’s and had a weird outfit(He wasn’t wearing the green lantern suit,he isn’t wearing the ring so no suit ,he is wearing what his planet wears).

He slowly and painfully turned his head to see her and he smiled a sweet smile of relief “huh a teenager, that’s new”he said humorously. ‘What the heck does that mean’ Amanda thought “Oh fine if you don’t want help then goodbye” Amanda said in angry and started stomping away “No wait, I didn’t mean to offend you,please let me explain,My name is Sodam yat and I was a green lantern and it appears that God has chose you to be the newest Green lantern ”.

Amanda stopped and turned “Ok Prove you are a lantern” Sodam yat gave Amanda the lantern and gave her the ring weakly “Trust me,all will be revealed God has chose you to help people,he see’s bravery in you and knows you will do well”.Amanda couldn’t believe that God would choose her out of all the people on earth,she thought he had to be lying. Sodam yat's eyes were closing,Amanda noticed and started trying to bring him back by putting her hand on his chest and started pumping to keep it alive.

He died as she did everything she could to help. She stopped when she noticed he stopped breathing.She put the ring on because she felt like it was calling her.

When she put it on everything went white then she saw her in the middle of nothing but white.She heard someone kindly whisper in her ear “It’s ok Amanda don’t be scared for I have heard your tears of depression and have chosen you to become the example of women” .Amanda turned to see nothing “God why me,I’m just a normal girl” “My child you are so much more,as you know there is no such thing as normal.I promise you that you will be the example of women,you will represent women,you will be the one that will be the justice to the women who were forced into marriage and raped and called concubine in the bible times through your time. You will be loyal and brave and your future offsprings will just as loyal and brave,and your offspring will all be you and your one husband”

Amanda was still confused,she was still looking around “God this can’t be true,look I’m just a sixteen year old girl”, “You are right about one thing,you are 16 but never forget many have done great things younger,mary was 13 when she had jesus,trust me my child you will be called the esther and ruth in your time for you are beautiful and are loyal, and you will bring justice to hagar and all the other women by showing women are not just to give birth but heal,love,and give birth for your generation is heading back to the times where women are just to breed for child you are proof of that” Amanda rubbed her eyes then was back to earth with the dead alien in front of her

Amanda called a friend she knows that lived close to michigan lake.She grabbed the lantern lamp and puts the ring on her ring finger and waited for her friend.Her friend picked her up and asked “Why were you alone at night in chicago and where did you get that lamp” Amanda sighed and tucked some hair under her right ear “Don’t ask”.

At 9:30 am Aquaman got the dead lanterns ship out of the lake as batman and the green lantern(hal jordan) were connecting all the dots together.batman was looking at the dead lanterns ring finger which had no ring on it “What happens to the ring after they die” Batman said dropping the hand not really caring since the lantern is not able to feel pain since he is dead.

Green lantern stood looking around to make sure no one is listening but the people who he wants to hear “well when a lantern knows it's going to die it tells the ring to go find someone worthy,then other lanterns explain the newest lanter and gets the lantern lamp and trains them”.

Batman nods silently and toughly as usual and brings out a black phone and calls someone on it “Alfred look into the security cameras in michigan lake around 9:00 pm through 12:00 from yesterday”.”Alright master bruce”.

It’s 4:00 pm in the Justice league space quarters and all of the members were there there.Batman was on the computer looking at the camera’s in michigan lake. The green lantern was nervous about having to train the young lantern,he was hoping to train a guy in his twenty’s at least because it sounded easier for him. Batman stopped and turned.

“Well I found who is the newest green lantern and...well hal you ain’t going to be too happy” Hal ran to see the camera to see a teenage blonde girl trying to help the alien “ “OH COME ON” hal screamed,everyone looked at him in confusion.

#bart allen x oc #young justice imagine #christianity

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spooktales · 7 years ago

Text

Seasick

Marcus vomited over the port side of the small lobstering boat.

"Jesus boyo, we're only fifty yards from shore!" cried Captain Merle.

Marcus didn't know that when he took a rookie position in Stoneport, it meant that he was tasked with joining Captain Merle on his monthly expeditions to monitor the buoys, traps, and jagged rocks of the town's Atlantic shoreline. They'd have to untangle old fishing line whenever it was wrapped up on a trap, or cut a fish or two out of those plastic canned six-pack binders, maybe yell at some teens stealing from lobster traps. Today was different though; it wasn't one of the normal monthly trips. Today they were headed out to Stone's Light, a lighthouse of indeterminable years on this earth.

"Sorry Captain, I'm still not used to it. Don't have my sea legs yet, I guess."

"No bother apologizin'. It's not tremendously far off. Just keep aiming that flood dead ahead."

Marcus held in his hand a strong floodlight, used in attempt to cut the thick fog which densely occupied the cold coastal grey-green waters. Merle was better on these waters than even the police dive team (which in reality was just one officer who had passed his SCUBA certification over in Beverly). Nobody else could manage the maneuvers it took to avoid the massive stones that jutted from the ocean. Many a ship had gone down; no loss of life in years, thanks to Captain Merle, but many dollars worth of ships had been lost off that coast. There was even an area where the navigator needed to avoid a sunken ship's mast, as the tip came to just about three feet below the surface. If you didn’t know where it was, you were likely fresh out of luck.

The fog was oppressive. It clung to each and every thing that attempted to pass through it. It was a great gray beast spinning a clouded web, and anything that became ensnared in it was in danger of being lost to the sea. Marcus kept on, holding the flood light as low as he could to get underneath the fog instead of simply illuminating it, making it harder to maneuver. He would falter in his light-holding only when he choked on dry heaves that came at random. The sea wasn't particularly choppy, but it was rough enough to have Marcus already exhausted from all the coffee he had promptly thrown up before it would take effect.

Marcus heaved particularly hard as the Captain turned the boat quickly to avoid the underwater mast, as it was barely visible until the last possible moment. Captain Merle saluted the unseen wrecked ship as his own passed around it safely.

Marcus asked "How much further you think?" as he dry heaved painfully on he last word.

Merle chuckled, "Not far, buddy. They really didn't tell ya as a rookie this type-ah thing is on your docket?"

Marcus shook his head from side to side while his eyes burned with an annoyed glint that made Merle laugh. Marcus smiled slightly, knowing his place, and he took in a deep breath through his nose, letting out an exasperated sigh. He had only taken this job because he lived here for a couple years as a child. He was only ten or eleven at the time and his parents had moved here because they wanted a quiet place which they could easily commute to their jobs in Boston, about 30 minutes away. When they yearned for a less sleepy town, his parents decided to move a little closer to the city and Marcus never went back to Stonesport. He often thought however, of its rocky coastlines and warm summer nights as a child. When he was fresh out of the academy, Stonesport PD had an opening, so he leapt at the chance to come back to his childhood stomping grounds. The fog these days seemed more prevalent than he remembered, but he couldn't rely on rose-tinted childhood memories. Fog was likely there when Marcus was young too, he just had no reason to really notice it. Almost nothing had changed over the years, both for good and bad; the town was still beautiful and still sleepy.

"Alright hold the light as still as you can, won't be long now," said Captain Merle

Stone's Light sat atop a small island off the coast of town, more a large grassy rock, really. It was one of the few still left that had a keeper living there. There were quarters at the base of the lighthouse for a keeper and family to live, but this keeper had lived alone for years.

Now, the reasoning behind this early morning expedition into the fog wasn't an everyday one; the light had gone out around midnight the previous evening and two boats had already radioed in saying they'd been involved in near-misses with rocks since. Since Captain Merle was best on the seas, and rookie Marcus went with him on the monthly coast checks anyway, they were both tasked with this mission.

Captain Merle navigated the jagged coast of the island with the deft precision of a man half his age. Marcus was always impressed with the captain's skills, and it was one of the few aspects of their trips Marcus never had to stress over. The thick fog was even denser out here; they weren't too far from shore, and yet could not see the beach. All they could see was a faint orange glow from the sodium vapor streetlamps that lined the main coastal road. Marcus noted silently that it was a mysterious thing to see the lighthouse without its light aglow; it was a fixture of the community despite nobody ever going there or learning much about it. Merle's wife ran the local historical society and knick-knack shop (consolidated to a single building) across from the main beach, and the lighthouse was on each and every postcard she had ever sold.

They adjoined the small dock and stepped off, both laying anchor and tying the boat securely to the dock because as the captain said: "Never know with days like these."

Marcus radioed into shore to let the mainland know they had just arrived and docked. He then let training take over as he surveyed the surroundings. He could barely see ten feet out into the ocean all around the island, which was about the size of a football field. It was dark this morning, in large part due to the fog, so they both popped on their flashlights. Marcus zipped up his uniform jacket, and simultaneously Captain Merle wrapped his scarf around his neck another time and adjusted his knit cap. They looked at one another, silently nodded in agreement, and began walking toward Stone's Light itself.

The lighthouse was aptly named, as it was entirely of intricate stonework. On a sunnier day, one would be astounded by the brilliant craftsmanship and attention to detail it had taken to erect such a breathtaking and old structure. As today was merely dreary and sad, the structure seemed quite ominous to Marcus. He could just barely see the tip of the lighthouse as it faded into the sea mist when he looked up. Marcus was getting his equilibrium back to normal the more he walked. He sucked in deep breaths of the ocean air, although he noted that the surrounding atmosphere felt a little off to him, almost as if the air itself had gone stale. He chalked this thought up to his early morning haze and the fact that he was likely now quite dehydrated from throwing up his breakfast back on the boat. Although his rational mind currently took precedent, Marcus couldn't shake the slight unease he felt since footfall on the island of Stone's Light.

Captain Merle, however, was a cool summer breeze. He casually walked alongside the stiff police officer with a calm stride, even lighting up an American Spirit, although with some difficulty due to the damp wind. The captain had been here more than most people, but still not much. It took a lot to shake the captain; he'd seen men tossed overboard by rogue waves, hands sliced damn near clean off by netting ropes, and even once a man fell to his death from a crow's nest on a ship he had been first mate on, years ago. Captain Merle took long puffs of his cigarette, keeping it cornered in his mouth, deep in thought. Marcus didn’t notice, but Merle was beginning to feel shades of unease creep forward from the dark recesses of his mind as well. Of course, he showed no signs of this apprehension; after all, you don’t survive all those years at sea by showing all your cards.

They neared the lighthouse in complete silence, as the fog seemed to dull all noises around them. They approached the reddish metal door which was surrounded by ornate stonework. Marcus was about to knock on the door when Captain Merle let out a small and inquisitive "Hhmph".

"What is it?" asked Marcus.

"Don't remember all this," replied the captain as he ran his hands across the beautiful masonry that was the door frame.

The stones were carved with beautiful curving lines and reliefs in odd shapes. Some of the markings looked like a language, some of it looked a bit more scenic, like strange landscapes. Marcus too, ran his fingers across the stone, admiring the craft of the work. Captain Merle was skeptical, however.

"Been coming to this light damn near 40 years now, and granted I never was really paying much attention to it, and was shithouse drunk for much of my time here, but I swear on my boat I've never seen this before. This carving. Like Egypt or something; stuff you find on cave walls."

Marcus continued to examine the carvings, running his fingers through the stone divots and tracing them by touch. They looked almost machine-made in their precision; each line was purposeful and perfectly etched. Marcus focused on the images and tried to decipher their possible meaning, and why there were seemingly new additions to the wildly old structure. Marcus felt his eyes go blurry for a moment when the captain called out to him.

"Hey boy, you alright?"

Marcus shuddered himself back to reality. "Yeah. Yes, I'm alright. What's up?"

"Thought we lost ya," Merle said, chuckling. "Looked like a 16 year old, just smoked his first doobie for a minute there."

Marcus gave a soft chuckle back but was taken off guard by his unintentional daydream; he couldn't even remember what he had been thinking about.

"Well, do we go in?" Merle asked, finishing his cigarette with one final, amber pull.

"Yeah, let's try knocking," replied Marcus. "Can you aim your light over here please? Right on the door."

Captain Merle did as he was instructed. On the seas he was in charge, but on land he knew best to let Marcus do his thing. The light bounced off the rust colored door, illuminating Marcus in a shade of red. Marcus pounded three times, loudly with the butt of his fist.

"Hello!? Anyone there!?" Marcus inquired. He followed quickly by asking the captain what the keeper's name was.

"Shit, it's uh... Phil! Phillip Dagmar."

"Mister Dagmar are you okay in there?" asked Marcus. There was no response for a good five silent seconds. "Okay Mister Dagmar, we're coming in."

Marcus pushed, then shouldered the door, neither attempt opening it even an inch.

"Well alright, then. I have a small sledge back in the boat if you wanna wait a minute I can go get it." Merle replied.

"Yeah that sounds like a plan. I'll wait here and keep knocking. Maybe he's just passed out or something." Marcus hoped.

Merle gave Marcus a skeptical glance before turning around and disappearing into the fog. He could only see about ten feet in any direction now, it was getting quite claustrophobic. That is, it might feel claustrophobic if that were a fear of Captain Merle's. Thankfully it wasn't, and Merle pressed on with confidence down toward the rocky island's shore and small dock where he boat was secured.

Merle nearly slipped on the damp wood of the dock, but his sure-footedness was still in its prime, even if his age would tell otherwise. He hopped into the boat with the grace of a much younger fellow. Merle opened the toolbox near the control panel, moving some bandages, batteries, and a flare gun out of the way to get the mini sledgehammer at the bottom of the box. After picking up the sledge, he scoffed and placed it back in the toolbox, locked it, and picked up the whole thing. Merle thought this situation may take a bit of time if Dagmar was drunk or passed out. In fog like this, the extra batteries would likely come in handy.

Merle stepped back onto the dock with toolbox in hand. He continued up the natural staircase to the island's grassy surface when he heard something that whirled him back around. What he had heard, was the heavy thud of a footfall on the deck of his boat, where he had just stood. When he turned quickly to see, he saw a splash and the boat rocking slightly, as if someone had just jumped off. Merle glanced around, sweeping his flashlight across the water. All was quiet, and Merle was finally a little unnerved.

Just some trick of the fog. And this damned storm coming in. Another Nor’easter, just wonderful! Merle began is ascent back toward Marcus and the lighthouse.

When Captain Merle had disappeared into the mist, Marcus had only tried knocking once more before deciding to walk around the base of Stones Light itself. As Marcus circled the lighthouse, he became more uncomfortable. There was something deeply wrong-feeling about walking through fog this thick. Every nerve in his body was on edge and he worried they may begin to fray soon. He truly didn't want to deal with a dead body today, and additionally did not know how they would fix the lighthouse if Dagmar was dead anyway...

Why would he be dead? What business to I have jumping to such an extreme scenario? Merle knows what he’s doing. I know what I’m doing. No big deal. The dude is probably just drunk as shit, I’d probably pick up drinking again if I worked this gig too. His flashlight barely cutting the fog at all, Marcus finished his circumnavigation of the structure just as Captain Merle approached the door.

"Anything?" asked Merle.

Marcus shrugged and shook his head, "Nothing really. No movement, no noises, no nothing. You get the hammer?"

"Aye," said Merle as he placed the toolbox down and opened it, retrieving the small, heavy mallet. "The fish are jumping today too."

"What?"

"The fish are jumping right outta the water this morning. I heard one jump in my boat. Damndest thing."

"You saw it do that?"

"Saw somethin'," Merle replied. "Somethin' jumped in and outta my boat. Fish'll do that, though"

Merle sounded unsure for the first time of the day, and Marcus noticed. After a silent moment, Merle closed the toolbox and knocked once more on the door. "Hey Phil! It's Merle O'Hare! We're coming in! Gonna break the door, buddy! We’ve gotta check on ya, make sure things haven’t gone all sideways, now!"

Merle began hammering after waiting a few more seconds, starting from the bottom hinge. He alternated prying from the top, and pounding from the bottom to get the pins out. It was harder work than he had assumed, due to years of ocean-borne rust in addition to the door being solid metal. Merle was sweating from his brow as the first pin neared its exit. After one final pound, Merle pried it out with a grunt.

"Got this one."

A great, fearsome, almost metallic creak seemed to emanate from the lighthouse. Merle bolted upright and gripped his hammer with white knuckles. He and Marcus pivoted where they stood, searching around them for where the air-shaking creak came from. The deafening sound only lasted four seconds, but it silenced the two men for at least thirty.

"Strange time for the lighthouse to be settling, don't you think?" asked Merle, trying to sound jovial.

"Is that what you think it was?" Marcus replied.

"No idea. Coulda been the building settling. Coulda been a whale."

"Whales creak like that?"

"Well, not ‘creak’ exactly but their songs can be less melodic than you'd think. Nothin' spookier than being out on the drink in the pitch dark and hear one of 'em wailing away. Coulda been that. Maybe," said Merle, shrugging.

Merle pounded out the next hinge pin while Marcus braced the door from falling. They got it off its frame with some difficulty, leaning it against the outer wall and found themselves staring into the lighthouse's main room.

There was nobody there. The room was an entire home all crammed into one continuous space: the living area with a television, phone, and couch bled into the kitchen and bedroom indiscernibly. The only separate area was a bathroom which housed just a toilet and standing shower. After shining their flashlights around from outside the entrance, Marcus and Captain Merle stepped inside.

They moved slowly and carefully, for no reason other than that they were nervous. Merle went over to the bedroom area to look through the blankets and make sure Dagmar’s corpse wasn’t pickling to the mattress. Marcus walked toward the kitchen area, looking out a window where he saw only fog.

Merle picked up the cordless telephone and looked at the call history. "Hasn't made a phone call in almost a week."

Marcus nodded in silence and opened the refrigerator. Inside, there was a half-full gallon of spoiled milk, some yogurts, and an assortment of old-looking vegetables. The freezer held just an ice cube tray and a small partially full bottle of vodka. Marcus closed the fridge and made his way toward the stovetop and sink.

“Hey,” said Marcus, gesturing toward the bottle and raising his eyebrows.

Merle grunted as if to say “Yeah, maybe,” and flung the sheets from the bed and peered underneath, half expecting to see Phil Dagmar under there, dead or passed out. Instead, he saw strange indentations on the stone floor, and an unlit candle that was nearing the end its lifespan. He poked his flashlight underneath the bed, illuminating it. The indentations proved to be more carvings like the ones on the door frame. These ones were new and unweathered by the winds and sea mist. He ran his fingers over them and collected fresh rock dust on his palms.

Marcus went to the sink and looked out the window above it, looking toward where the boat was docked. It was slightly darker outside now and not simply foggy, due to the impending storm. Marcus hoped to get off the island before the storm hit; if his stomach was that bad on calm seas, he could only imagine how he'd feel on rough ones. As he pondered this, Marcus glanced away from the window and down at the sink, absentmindedly.

A crazed, bloodshot eye peered back at him through the drain. Marcus screamed out and flung himself backwards, knocking into the table and toppling two chairs.

Merle stood up from where he was laid next to the bed and ran toward Marcus, not knowing what had happened. Marcus was frantically reaching for his weapon in a panic but Merle grabbed him by the shoulders and stared into his eyes, calming him.

"Hey! Hey! What happened? What's going on?" Merle inquired.

"Someone is under there!"

"Where? What are you talking about?"

Marcus pointed at the sink. "I saw something looking at me trough the drain! There was an eye looking up at me! There’s a fucking eye in there!" Marcus stood up, shook himself off, and unholstered his weapon.

Merle slowly walked toward the cabinet under the sink, Marcus had his flashlight and weapon trained at it. Merle approached slowly, inching silently forward, creeping toward whatever was in the sink. He extended his hands toward the handles of the cabinet beneath the sink. Merle grabbed them and flung the cabinet open. Their flashlights illuminated none other than Phil Dagmar, who screamed in their faces. He looked haggard, his wild eyes betraying his unhinged mind.

Merle and Marcus took a deep breath of relief and pulled the shuddering Dagmar from under the sink. He smelled awful and was vibrating from head to toe. Marcus holstered his gun, but kept the clasp unbuttoned, just in case. He then righted the two overturned chairs, having Phil Dagmar sit down in one of them. Merle retrieved a blanket from the bed and wrapped Phil in it as he sat.

"I'll put a kettle on," said Merle, as Marcus sat across from Phil, still somewhat shocked at the situation.

Merle walked over to the sink to fill the teapot before he realized his mistake. He looked underneath, where Dagmar had been hiding. The pipes and fittings were all taken apart, presumably so Dagmar could fit himself inside. Merle stood back up and walked to the bathroom, filling the kettle from the shower head before placing it on the stove to boil.

"Philip Dagmar?" confirmed Marcus.

Dagmar was still shaking and hyperventilating as he jerked his head to look at Marcus.

"Mr. Dagmar are you okay? What's happened? What were you doing under there?"

Dagmar only shook in silence, before beginning to cry.

Merle and Marcus shared a silent look at one another before Marcus continued: "Mr. Dagmar do you know that the light is out upstairs?"

This stopped Dagmar from shaking and crying, and he looked up again in disbelief.

"I... thought it was a dream..." he said softly.

"What do you mean Mr. Dagmar?" Marcus asked.

"I had a dream... last night, I think. Fever dream.... Needed to hide..." he trailed off.

Marcus looked again at Merle, confused and already tired of this charade; this wasn't to be a quick check-up mission any more.

"Mr. Dagmar I need to talk to the captain over here for a moment is that okay?" asked Marcus, sighing. He wouldn’t get through to Dagmar.

I’m not a goddamn shrink. He’s gone loony as all hell.

Dagmar just sat and shook and mumbled to himself.

Marcus stood up and motioned for Merle to come with him close to the now permanently open door, which they now bookended.

"Well he's clearly off is damn rocker," commented Merle in a hushed tone. "What's the next move? We bring him back? Ask him about fixing the light, or what?"

"I think I should radio in. Tell them we have Dagmar, and that he's suffering some sort of... mental episode. We can see if the coast guard can sent a technician or something maybe, I dunno. Anyone else in town ever work out here on the light?"

Merle shook his head, "Nah, only Jeddy Walker but he's up at Willow Hills in a wheelchair taking pills with applesauce these days."

"Shit, okay I'll just radio in and see what they say. I want to get back to shore before this storm really hits."

Merle nodded in agreement and he walked back to the table and took a seat next to Dagmar, keeping a keen eye. Marcus walked outside to make the call.

Marcus stepped back out into the fog and noticed he couldn't even see the orange glow of the street lamps on shore any longer.

"Base this is Marcus and Merle calling from Stone's Light. I have a situation to report and get feedback on, over."

He waited with his hand on the receiver for a response. It did not immediately come.

"Repeating, this is Marcus and Captain Merle calling from Stone's Light. We've located the keeper, Mr. Dagmar and he's in a strange condition. I don't think he'll be able to fix the light himself. I need to speak to someone for some feedback on my situation, over."

Marcus turned around in exasperation when he still didn't receive an answer. Something bothered him deeply about this situation, he just couldn't put his finger on it exactly. He then noticed something on the door they had removed from the lighthouse. The side now facing Marcus was the one which would have faced inward, to the living area when the door was properly installed. Etched into the metal, was a bizarre sigil: a series of triangles, circles and intersecting lines. There also seemed to be that same odd language etched into the stonework laid out within it. It looked like a twisted family crest.

Marcus' radio suddenly crackled to life: "This is base, come in. We have a disturbance in town, I was just fielding phone calls. My bad,” said the radio.

"That's fine," Marcus replied. "Is this Officer Michaels?"

"Yes, Michaels here," the voice replied. "I didn't catch all of your transmission, can you repeat? The phone was just going off the damn hook."

"Yes we found the lighthouse keeper Phil Dagmar, but he's in an unstable mental state. We're gonna need other people to come out here and fix this light. I don't think he's up to it."

"Damn, hold on, phone again," said the man on the radio. There were thirty seconds of silence before he came back on. "I think you guys should probably come back to shore."

"Okay but what about this lighthouse? It's very dangerous, with the fog you can barely see the island ten feet away. We're gonna have a wreck on our hands sooner than later if we don't fix this."

There was thirty more seconds of radio silence before Officer Michaels came back. "Sorry anther phone call. You need to come back, there are... disturbances being reported in town and all available officers have already been dispatched, except me."

Marcus stopped pacing back and forth and asked: "What do you mean by that? 'Disturbances'?"

"First call was from the nursing home, some patient there's been going nuts I guess. Wrecking stuff, spitting on orderlies. They called us when he ripped out another patient's IV. They couldn't get him to calm down, even with some drugs. First car sent there radioed in for backup, so now two cars there. That just leaves you and the sheriff and me on duty. I gotta stay here at the radio so you two best wrangle Dagmar and come on back."

"Jesus... Fine," Marcus sighed. "We can try. He's in a state."

"I really don't know what else to tell you, man," the radio crackled. "The phone is starting to ring off the goddamn hook over here so I've got to go. Come back on the radio if you need anything else, otherwise just collect the keeper and come back here. Over and out."

Marcus sighed heavily and wiped a small amount of stressed sweat from his face, rubbing his temples afterward. He turned after taking in a deep breath, and reentered the lighthouse, glancing at the carved inner door once more as he did so. Stepping over the threshold he looked toward the table and saw Dagmar now weeping, and Captain Merle looking perplexed and concerned.

"It was a dream... She said... But it was a dream... They won't come... She just told me to..." Dagmar mumbled between sobs.

"What's the plan, Marcus?" asked Merle, sick of this shit.

"Shore says to collect Dagmar and come back. That's it."

"So we aren't gonna fix this?" said Merle, gesturing upward toward the spiral stairs. "Some boat is going to get smashed on the rocks if we don't, mark my words."

"I know, I know. I don't agree but it's orders, Merle. We have to do it. Something strange is happening on shore, I think. There's only one officer at the precinct and everyone else is on calls, apparently. Busy morning, we should get back." Marcus said, halfway happy that the plan now was just to get back to shore.

Merle looked at Marcus for another moment, and then shrugged. "Alright, I guess that's the plan."

Captain Merle walked toward the table and Dagmar, before sitting down, taking a deep breath, and adopting a sincere tone, as if speaking to an ill child.

"Okay Phil, Phil can you hear me? Phil please look at me," he said calmly. Phil Dagmar looked up from the floor which he had been staring and mumbling at, and stared into Merle's eyes.

"Phil we're going to go to shore okay? The light isn't working, and you seem a little under the weather so we can get you fixed up on shore, and then get the light fixed up out here, okay?"

"No, I shouldn't leave here. I can't leave... Need to stay..." Dagmar trailed off.

Marcus looked at Merle, who gave back an exasperated glance; both men on the same page. Merle sighed again and calmly replied: "Dagmar we should really get going, there is a storm coming and the door is off, and we need-"

Phil Dagmar snapped his head toward the door suddenly, stood up and screamed, falling backwards over his chair and writhing on the ground like a panicking dog. Dagmar scrambled away from the open doorway, shrieking. Merle and Marcus dropped to the floor alongside him in attempt to contain Dagmar's outburst, grabbing at his arms and uttering calming words as he shrieked. Dagmar was stronger than his slight frame let on, and even the full strength of both men wasn't enough to contain his flailing arms.

"What happened to the door!? Oh Lord, no! WHY!? WHAT HAPPENED!?" His last word was an extended cry that seemed to carry on the breeze coming in through the open doorway.

The two sane men were utterly perplexed as to what had just happened to make Dagmar act in such a rash and violent manner so suddenly. Marcus then thought of the sigil he saw on the door, how strange and ancient it looked, and then thought of how it now simply sat outside, leaned against the lighthouse, doing nothing. Marcus stood up suddenly in realization and ran to the doorway, bumping the table yet again and feeling his radio break off from his belt and clatter to the stone floor.

Marcus slipped and fell hard on the slick grass right outside, in a rush. He struggled briefly to regain his footing, and then grabbed the heavy metal door and picked it up with great effort. Captain Merle screamed for him from inside but Marcus was determined. He stepped one foot inside, dragging the heavy door with him, and propped it up against the doorframe, creating a makeshift barrier. He smiled and turned to the now silent Merle and Dagmar.

"See? That's better, isn’t it!"

Dagmar held Marcus' gun in his hand, sobbing quietly.

Merle stood there with his arms out in the way of "everybody stay calm". Marcus' right hand drifted toward his holster, remembering he had left it unclasped in case of emergency. The gun was gone, and this was the emergency.

That wasn’t my radio that fell off, it was my fucking gun.

"It won't work!" said Phil Dagmar, gesturing toward the propped up door. He was crying and snot dangled from his nose, falling into his mouth grotesquely. “Nothing will work! I’ve done it. I GONE AND DID IT! But it was just a dream... Just a dream... This is all... just...a...”

Dagmar placed the gun in his mouth, pulled the trigger, and spat crimson all over the stone wall behind him.

Marcus and Merle both yelled and then rushed to Dagmar. A small wisp of smoke slowly rose from Dagmar's mouth as blood poured from his nose and the immense wound on the back of his skull. Merle and Marcus looked at each other yet again, in silence. Marcus stood up and clicked his radio, still on his belt.

"Shore come in! Shore come in! We have an emergency. There's been an accident."

The radio remained silent.

"Shore come in! We need assistance! Dagmar has... shot himself,” Marcus choked a sob. “We need an evac out here immediately!"

There was nothing.

"What now?" asked Captain Merle.

Marcus' eyes were tearing up and he felt bile creep up into the back of his throat. Captain Merle came over and placed his hands on Marcus' shoulders.

"Listen, boy. This is a hell of a fuck up. But it's not your fuck up. Dagmar was losing it. We both tried, boy. I don't know or understand what is happening on shore but out here, we know we've done our best. We came out when nobody else did, and just stepped into a helluva mess. Now, take a minute to get it together. Go puke outside, take some sea air in, and we'll try your radio again. Got it, boy?"

A couple tears silently moved down Marcus' cheeks and he wiped them away, nodding at the fatherly captain, who patted his shoulders assuringly. The captain was a good man, and Marcus was glad to have him there today. A creak and thump from far upstairs shattered the silence. Both of them looked up sharply, dread falling over them like a cold shower. They silently moved together toward the spiral staircase.

The two confused men stared straight upward, looking all the way up the staircase which led to the light itself. They were sure nobody else was on the island. They were also sure they had just heard a noise from up there.

"Just gulls?" Marcus hoped.

"I'm going up there," said Captain Merle with defiance, taking a step.

"Whoa, whoa," halted Marcus, placing a hand on Merle's shoulder. "Our orders still stand. We were told to go back to shore."

"Sorry kid," Merle remarked. He motioned toward Dagmar's corpse. "Circumstances have clearly changed. Now it's also my duty to see if there is anything I can do to fix this light, or we're gonna have a lot more bodies like Phil's here only they'll be at the bottom of the bay! I wasn't crazy about leaving before going up to check the light in the first place, and now that a man has already died today, I'm not letting it happen again. Get your goddamn pistol off the floor and come with me. Or don't. I'm not letting the ocean take anyone today. If someone is up there, and they did this, they’ll catch the sole of my boot in their shit-ass teeth!"

As if Marcus wasn't already taken off guard by each and every event which happened to him so far today, Merle had never been cross with him before, and it made him feel like a scolded child. Being a man with morals however, Marcus knew Merle was right; they had to at least check, especially now. Marcus took his gun from the ground, now one bullet lighter, and joined Merle as they slowly ascended the metal staircase up toward the unlit light.

The stairs creaked and groaned as the two men delicately climbed them, for some reason both thinking they had to stay quiet even now. As they walked the rusted stairs, they could only see a small amount of what was above them, now all they could see was a small part of the light's cap and the grey skies above it. The only sounds they heard were their footfalls on the stairwell, echoing a little as they neared the top. Captain Merle reached the top first and grasped the chain link railing which connected the stairs to the circular platform above. He hoisted himself upward with a grunt and Marcus followed. Both men stood in silence as they observed the broken light.

"Well, that's that, then," remarked Merle, sighing.

The massive light was destroyed. A fire axe hung out of its side, balancing its long wooden handle on the jagged glass, and knocking the side of the light's metal base when the wind blew strong, making a thud, the same thud they had just heard. Merle circled the light, his steps making sparkly crunching sounds as his tough boots crushed the shattered glass on the floor. Marcus was just as perplexed. To him, the evidence dictated that a person, presumably Dagmar had seemingly broken the light with purpose, although that purpose was yet undetermined. Yes, the person who had done it, was more than likely lying still and dead on the ground floor.

"So, Phil Dagmar finally goes nuts out here on his own, breaks this light, kills himself in front of us? Think that was the plan the whole time?" asked Marcus with healthy skepticism.

"I'm not sure that man had any plan at all," replied Captain Merle. "I'll tell ya one thing though, he did a number on this. Look here, there's deep gouges on this side too, he tried hitting it plenty of times before he broke the glass, looks like. We can't fix this. It’ll need full replacement, no doubt."

"Well, he definitely wanted this thing broken. Any reason you can think of why he'd do this?"

"Didn't really know him all that well. Played cards with him a few times, but never a one-on-one type thing. Jeddy Walker, the keeper before Dagmar went a little nuts couple decades ago, that's why Dagmar took over. But Jeddy Walker never did anything like this, he was just a bit of a kook after a while. His wife passed too, like Dagmar's. No kids."

Marcus turned and looked at toward the shore. The fog was thicker, but strangely he could swear that the orange glow of the streetlights was much stronger now, as if they had been on a dimmer setting before. This thought left his mind quickly however as he saw a shadowed shape on Captain Merle's boat below.

"Merle. Merle! Look," he pointed.

Captain Merle saw exactly what Marcus did. The men sped down the spiral stairs, almost tripping more than once. They made it to the bottom and sped their way across the living area toward the doorway. As they approached the threshold, the door which Marcus had leaned up against the threshold suddenly flew off and away outside with blazing speed and force. Marcus and Merle stopped in their tracks. It was as if the door had been tied to a pickup truck, and then torn off like criminals breaking into a safe. The men stood shocked and motionless, staring into the gray expanse outside, from which they heard the metal door slam down on the island's rocks, somewhere off to the right.

Marcus hadn't felt this type of terror in years, decades even. There was a summer in particular at age 12 when his stepfather must have had some really great cocaine. He would come home, red-faced and sweaty and throw things at his mother. It came to a head when one of the things he threw was a knife, which embedded itself into a wall two inches deep, about a foot away from Marcus' favorite chair. His stepfather straightened up after a brief stint in jail.

Marcus and Captain Merle listened for any sign of what had taken the door off, but only wind and waves touched their ears. Merle looked down and around the room hurriedly.

"Marcus!" he whispered quickly. "Where's Dagmar?"

Marcus' eyes flashed white with panic as he whirled around and realized Dagmar was gone. There was still a massive pool of blood which was slowly becoming tacky, and was filling the room with an air of copper.

"How did he...?"

"I don't know. It's time to leave." Merle grabbed Marcus by the back of his jacket and they walked quickly to the exit. Marcus didn't question this notion, or the fact that in doing so, Merle was undermining his authority as a police officer. Merle was guiding Marcus by from behind, like a parent dragging their child into their great aunt's den for a too-tight hug.

As they swiftly closed in on the outside, Marcus heard a small sound behind them that Merle did not. He turned his head as he was forced forward by Merle, and for a brief glance, saw the bloody legs of Dagmar's corpse, slowly walking up the spiral stairs behind them, and paying the two men no mind whatsoever. Just as he realized what he was looking at, Merle whisked him through the threshold before he could even utter a sound.

When they set foot outside, they realized it was much colder now than it was, almost freezing. Merle nearly tripped over his toolbox and knocked it over, still there from earlier. Taking the door off seemed so long ago. The contents spilled and Merle hastily tossed them back in, missing a few batteries and leaving them for dead behind them. He kept the hammer in his right hand. If the orange streetlights on the shore weren't brighter moments ago, they certainly were now. The fog was a thick burning pumpkin color as the shore illuminated it. The confused men walked briskly and toward the dock when yet another curiosity caught their attention.

Looking down the rock staircase toward the dock, they saw Merle's boat. On it, were two dark figures. The same figures they had seen from the top of Stone’s Light. They were about human size and shape, but completely black. The things appeared as though they were actively absorbing light from around them. The figures seemed to be made up of scribbles, like a child's black crayon, writhing and jerking back and forth in almost imperceptibly small movements. Writhing masses of jagged lines, trembling like television static. They vibrated where they stood. The two human men were stopped, just observing the beings with morbid curiosity.

"Hello!?" Merle yelled. He could tell they were watching Marcus and himself, but he couldn't understand how he knew that. They had no eyes, no faces, no detail whatsoever. So pitch black they looked like they were made of night.

Merle realized now that Marcus wasn't fully aware of his surroundings. He had a blank stare, mouth agape, just looking at these beings. Some police officer, the poor kid is scared out of his damn mind, Merle thought. He couldn't really blame him after today's events, though. The captain had quite enough of this situation and raised the hammer high above his head in his right hand and shouted something guttural. This somehow did seem to startle the creatures who then jumped into the water, disappearing with an eerie grace, the boat barely rocking and just a small splash for each of them. The situation seemed oddly familiar to Merle.

They made their way down the stone steps and onto the slippery dock, Captain Merle still guiding Marcus by the shoulders to the boat.

"Did you s-see him?" asked Marcus in a scared whisper.

Merle was placing the toolbox back down under the main console, but left the hammer out, laying it behind the wheel. "See who, Marcus? Those shaky bastards?"

"Dagmar. Did you see him?"

Merle sighed heavily. "Yes of course I saw him, Marcus. What the shit are you talking about? I can’t be losing you too, boy. Get it together." Merle was running out of his saintly patience. The situation was becoming more and more bizarre by the minute.

"I mean just now, as we left. Did you see him?"

"No, Marcus. I don't know where he went. Especially since he only had half a damn head when we last saw him. I don't know what's going on but just let me get us back to shore and we can figure it out with the chief. Maybe we can ask Jeddy Walker up at Willow Hills if he has any clue. If he's even talking these days..."

"That's the nursing home, right?" Marcus asked, almost remembering something that escaped him with anxious immediacy.

Merle nodded but didn't say a word as he started the engine and began disembarking from the island of Stone's Light. He had been through a great many challenging endeavors in his days on the sea, some quite bizarre, but today had a different and new feeling. Something green and ill in the pit of his intestines, coupled with something pitch and mean in the back of his mind.

Marcus huddled in the boat, clutching a flashlight and scanning the waters with restless eyes. His grasp on his own mind seemed to be weakening with every wave they passed over on the way back to shore. His first and only trip to Stone's Light would assuredly be one he never forgot, however much he wanted to. Marcus tried to see a bright side to this horrific day, in attempt to calm his frantic brain.

Wait 'til the boys at the station hear about this one. Maybe I won't have to do this terrible detail with Captain Merle all the time now.

Marcus would more than likely leave out the vomiting parts, and maybe embellish that Dagmar, in his insanity, ripped his gun from Marcus' belt with shocking strength, as opposed to revealing that he had simply slipped it out of the unfastened holster. Fucking rookie mistake... Thinking about Dagmar snapped Marcus' mind suddenly back to a shadowy place, however. That shadow seemed ever growing.

"Marcus!" said Captain Merle in a shout-whisper. "There he is!"

Merle was looking behind them, back toward the island lighthouse. Above the fog, at the top of the tower, Dagmar was standing against the railing, staring out at them. Blood still trickled out of his mouth, floating upward and into the sky and dissolving, unimpeded by something as earthly as gravity. Dagmar's face was screwed up into a grimace which laid somewhere in between sadness and malice as he loomed above and away from Merle and Marcus like a ruler over his kingdom.

A few splashes made both men whip their heads forward once again. In front of them, standing on the bow of the boat was another all-black figure. It simply stood, making no noise and no movements, other than the odd constant vibration. Both men were startled enough to yelp and Merle fell over onto his backside, knocking the tool box over. The figure took a step toward them as Merle felt around for his hammer. Marcus was frozen in place, utterly useless and nearly insane with fear. The figure took another step forward.

And another.

"Shoot it Marcus!" demanded Captain Merle.

Marcus didn't even twitch, entirely transfixed by what he was seeing. He did not move a single muscle. Merle saw his hammer, it was still on the front dash of the boat, too close to the being to obtain safely. He shifted his weight backward and found his hand touching the contents of the tool box: batteries, flashlight, some screws, nails... and the flare gun. Merle gripped the rubberized handle of the gun and confidently swung his arm forward, bringing the figure into his sights. He took aim with the confidence of a Captain, and pulled the trigger.

The flare shot out with a thudding pop and flew directly at its intended target, striking it high on the chest, near what could be considered the thing’s neck. The flare was blinding for a couple seconds, and then dimmed quickly. What was once illuminating the entire boat and the water around it, was now merely a candle light flickering in the thing’s darkness. The blackened being seemed to envelop and absorb the light. The flare did not shed light on any detail on the thing. The being remained completely made of pure dark, like a living black hole. Merle was aghast and out of ideas. The dark figure then suddenly pivoted and jumped back into the ocean. It felt to Merle that they had been simply surveyed, examined even.

Merle turned around to see Marcus standing up again, looking with a shocking intent in the direction of shore. Marcus squinted to focus on the distant sand through the thick fog, and took in a sharp breath.

"What, Marcus?" asked Merle.

"Something has happened. I think we did something."

"How do you mean? Why's that? What could we have done, boy?"

Soon enough, Merle had his answer.

As they neared the beach, the fog became less dense, and they could now see the orange shoreline. Now, however it was lit not by the streetlamps, but a large bonfire on the beach. The men could see from the corners of their eyes more creatures walking out of the ocean and onto the shore, as if there were stairs built especially for them. They would calmly exit the water, and then take off with immense speed in a seemingly random direction, as if compelled. Whenever Marcus or Merle attempted to look directly at this firelit event, they couldn't quite see the figures directly. When their eyes tried to focus on them in the firelight, the figures would disappear. In their peripheral vision however, they observed hundreds exiting the bay, in mere minutes. An invasion. The Normandy of the End.

Merle ignored the main dock and instead approached a smaller one, closer to where the bonfire was located on the sand. He looked at Marcus who still stared wide-eyed at the chaotic and ethereal happenings on the beach. Merle turned his gaze toward the street beyond the beach and noticed two crashed cars, one into a stop sign and the other halfway inside the post office, over the sidewalk and through the front window. They heard a scream, seemingly female coming from deep within the town somewhere. They'd never find where it came from. The fog was clearing, but it was only replaced by the smoke of the enormous bonfire.

Merle pulled up alongside the dock, jumping off with haste and tying the boat down. Marcus was still standing on deck, transfixed by what he was seeing. Merle couldn't believe it either, but his years at sea taught him that awestruck panic only led down dangerous paths. Merle jumped back into the boat and grabbed Marcus by his shoulders as was almost customary at this point, nearly nose-to-nose with him, shaking him violently.

"Marcus! Snap the hell to attention boy!" Merle bellowed into his face, his storm gray eyes boring deep into Marcus'. "You are a police officer. Something insane is happening and people need your help. I need your help, Marcus! Right now! COME ON!"

It worked to a degree, Marcus’ eyes looked alive again, but terrified beyond comprehension.

"But what do we do!? How can we help anyone!? We have no clue what's happening! Have you seen anything like this!? Ever!?" replied Marcus, finally coming to grips a bit.

"No, Marcus I don't think anyone has ever seen anything like this," Merle said. "But we have to try. We have to. My wife is still somewhere in town, and we need to get you back to the police station. There is a lot going on that I don't understand right now but we can't just give in. Haven't yet after all this time and I don't plan to now. We’re better than that."

Merle let go of Marcus' shoulders and turned around, grabbing his hammer, the flare gun, and the single extra flare, putting it in the pocket of his slicker. Marcus was crouched down taking deep breaths, only standing after regaining some composure and balance. They climbed out of the boat and stood on the dock, turning toward the shore to observe the event. Dark figures were still emerging from the black waters and sprinting off in random directions, the fire still blazing away, casting the orange glow which once came from only the streetlights.

It was magical. Hypnotizing, even. Merle had felt this way once before, when he was on the offensive during the war. Under cover of night, his squad leader had silently tossed a torch into the camp of their sleeping enemy, burning some alive. They had shot the others as they tried to escape. There was something inhumanly attractive and disgustingly invigorating being a witness to real, stark violence like that. Merle had honestly thought he'd never feel that way again. He had hoped, at least. Merle felt his mind drifting as he stared at the beachfront invasion. His vaporous thoughts moved to the dark corners of his mind where he sent bad dreams and rotting memories to stay like misbehaved children. His mind had just now let everyone out of punishment. A swirling enigmatic mass of those thoughts, angry from years of ignorance, burst into the forefront of Merle's mind and he could no longer see anything.

Time left him.

Earth left him.

Everything left him.

He was so alone. Alone in a void of hatred and anonymity. Merle seemed to float into the abyss...

BANG!

Marcus was yelling and moving quickly toward Merle, who was on the ground, and bleeding a little. Marcus took aim and shot twice more at one of the beings who had snuck behind Merle, touching its hand to his back, poisoning his mind. A burst of black scribbles exploded out of the being with each connecting bullet and it shrieked at Marcus aggressively before jumping back into the ocean, presumably to heal in retreat. Marcus had now recovered from his brief journey into near-catatonia, and when he saw Merle fall down with a vacant stare and the thing touching his back, he knew the same thing must have been happening to him earlier on the island. A sort of nauseous and dark trance. He had noticed the dark figure approaching Merle from behind, with one bony, black finger extended and vibrating. Maybe it was his policeman's training, or maybe it was that he had grown to enjoy Merle's company as a father figure in this small and lonely town, but something had made Marcus reflexively unholster his pistol and open fire at the figure. Almost immediately after the bullets struck their target, the hypnosis-like effect on Merle had lifted. Marcus could see a slight murky blue-green cloudiness leave Merle's eyes as he sat up on the ground, wiping away some blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. The men looked at each other yet again; today had been rife with concerned glances.

Marcus helped Merle to his feet, which for the first time today he seemed unsteady on. There they were: two men, standing confused amidst what seemed like the apocalypse. Marcus still held his pistol at the ready, watching the creatures. None dared approach them again yet, and were still darting this way and that, spreading like a virus through town.

Marcus noticed a strange looking man, holding an impossibly black umbrella walking down Main Street, seemingly uninhibited by the surrounding chaos, almost refreshed by it. Merle saw the figure with a vague recognition, but then recognized someone else, closer, who was approaching them out from behind the humongous bonfire. It wasn't long before they had both forgotten the umbrella-holding man, who spun and tiptoed out of their view and down a side street shortly thereafter.

The man who Merle recognized was wildly old-looking, like a wizard or a Greek philosopher out of a painting. Even as he slowly and defiantly walked toward Merle and Marcus, this man exuded a bizarre wisdom they both somehow felt in their chests. He exuded something else too, something seemingly repellant to the dark beings still racing out of the waves. The things would emerge from the sea and upon nearing this man, recoil in annoyed pain, some of them growling or swiping their black scribbled claws at him, before running in a different direction. He paid them no mind as he walked. Marcus trained his weapon on the man suspiciously, looking at Merle from the corner of his eye, noticing he was deep in thought. The random old man's presence made the already mind-numbing scene even more incomprehensible. Who was this person, walking amongst the chaos, unbothered? As the old man neared, Merle noticed his face was screwed up and scrunched full of rage. Merle connected a few dots of recognition in his mind and uttered:

"Jeddy? Jeddy Walker? Is that you?"

Marcus lowered his gun as the old man approached. The old man had rage in his eyes. Marcus was confused, and then remembered. Merle had mentioned him as the previous lighthouse keeper, years ago. Jeddy Walker.

The beings were still blasting forth out of the swells, which were becoming larger as the storm rolled closer to shore. The trio knew the real storm was already here, though. None of the darklings approached the three men now, though, they only continued their frantic sprints off toward some unknown destination, destruction on their minds.

Jeddy stared holes though Merle and Marcus. His wizened eyes were kind but angry, like when a parent is upset. The men were silent, only the noises of the storm and the bonfire swirled around them. It was oddly quiet considering all that was happening. The dark skies glowed orange by way of the fog and bonfire. More of these light orange spots, were popping up around town, further inland. Their glows punctuated by the thin streams of acrid black smoke which soon rose from them into the sky. Fires, probably a dozen or so throughout town. Suddenly the silence was broken with a statement from Jeddy that both explained everything and nothing. Jeddy took a deep, haggard old man's breath, held it for a moment, looked at the mentally battered Merle and Marcus, and then:

"Which one of you damned fools put out the light?"

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keywestlou · 5 years ago

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HUNGARIAN REVOLUTION, TIENANMEN SQUARE.....NOW HONG KONG?

China is a power. Hong Kong is not. Hong Kong is protesting big time.

A power can only tolerate abuse so long…..before it snuffs the little guy out. Such is the way of the world.

The 1956 Hungarian Revolution an example. The Russians let the Hungarians vent a few days. Then sent the tanks in. The student protesters could not leave Hungary soon enough.

Another example is Tienanmen Square in 1989. Student led also. China gave the demonstrators a few days to give off steam. Then sent the tanks in.

Present day protests in Hong Kong are millennial led. Protests time limited. China is massing military vehicles near the city’s border.

Note that each of the three “uprisings” were/are youth led. They try, but seem not able to succeed.

In the last 24 hours, China has said the Hong Kong protesters are “asking for self destruction.” “Terrorism” increasing. Most recently, Molotov cocktails. Those demonstrating must be severely punished “without leniency, without mercy.”

Big day tomorrow for the youth of Key West. Back to school! If all are like Robert and Ally, they are anxious to return.The police will be out in school areas. Enforcing no speeding around schools and school bus rules.

Don’t beware because the police are out. Beware because it is the right thing to do. They are our children!

Key West and the State of Florida were on opposite sides during the Civil War. Key West remained with the Union. The rest of the State with the Confederacy.

As war was being declared, the Union officer in charge of Union troops stationed in Key West led his men to Fort Zachery Taylor. A point from which the Union was able to control ship movement around the Keys the entire war, thereby denying the South much needed supplies.

Vessels that did put into Key West could not leave till owners and crew pledged allegiance to the Union.

Another police screw up story. Hugo, Oklahoma. Two police officers were attempting to apprehend a robbery suspect. He was driving a pick-up truck. Four children were riding in the back seat. Five, 4, 2, and 1 year olds.

The police began firing. The police put 26 rounds into the truck. The driver was not hurt. Three of the four children were. A bullet pierced the front left side of the 4 year old’s brain. The 5 year old suffered a skull fracture, the 1 year old gunshot wounds to the face. The 2 year old not touched.

The 4 were children or step children of the truck driver.

He shot back at the police. However says he did not do so till the police shot at him. Rank stupidity!

The police were in an unmarked car and in plain clothes.

Nothing of consequence has occurred yet. The shootings occurred in April. The 2 officers have been relegated to desk duty.

One of the officers was involved in a citizen shooting several years back. The citizen died. The officer was determined not to be responsible.

How thorough will the investigation be? Will the results ever be made public?

Six months certainly long enough for the investigation to have been concluded and the results made known.

In my long life, 2 things have impressed me greatly. Both without comparison. Man on the moon and the Berlin Wall coming down.

Who can question the astronauts stepping on the moon’s surface?

Berlin was split into 4 zones following World War II. Berlin was actually in the Russian zone. However the major powers each wanted a piece of it. The U.S. got its zone.

The East Germans did not like living under Russian domination. They used to cross the street into the U.S. section No wall preventing them from doing so. Many never returned.

One day, the Russians went out and built a barbed wire fence soon followed by a concrete wall. One hundred miles of concrete blocks encompassing the East German zone.

Several years later, the height of the wall was increased to 10 feet. This time guard towers,machine gun posts, and searchlights added.

On November 11, 1989, German citizens from both the East and West sides began tearing the wall down.

Absolutely amazing! Never thought it would happen!

To understand my comments you had to live more than 30 years with the threat of a Soviet/U.S. war hanging over your heads. As school children today are taught what to do if a shooter enters their school, my children were taught what to do if a nuclear bomb was on its way. Whatever was not sufficient. Getting under one’s desk provided no safety.

Putin and Trump are the best of friends. Trump believes everything Putin tells him over the advice of his advisers. Trump and Kim Jung Un are in “love.” Trump tells us Kim writes him “love letters.”

Kim is testing low and intermediate missiles. Capable of carrying nuclear war heads.

Putin recently went back to nuclear testing. A missile that could best any U.S. missile defense the U.S. has.

The test failed. Exploded. Five scientists killed. Radioactivity sprayed everywhere.

The nuclear weapon Putin was testing is called “Petrel.” The missile nuclear armed and powered. If Putin succeeds in turning out this new weapon, Russia will have a missile capable of evading any U.S. missile defense and have unlimited range.

Putin is having his problems. His popularity on the down slide. The economy dipping. Protests occurring. Not the size of those going on in Hong Kong today. However, I am sure sufficient to cause Putin and Russia’s leaders to have concern.

Tonight, my blog talk radio show. Tuesday Talk with Key West Lou. Nine my time. www.blogtalkradio.com/key-west-lou.

Not sure at the moment what I will be discussing. I decide that this afternoon. However, I guarantee a fast moving and interesting show that you will enjoy.

Join me!

Enjoy your day!

HUNGARIAN REVOLUTION, TIENANMEN SQUARE…..NOW HONG KONG? was originally published on Key West Lou

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travelworldnetwork · 6 years ago

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By Shafik Meghji

1 April 2019

“Stay at least 200m away from the whaling station – it’s filled with asbestos and the roofs could literally blow off,” warned expedition leader Nate Small, as we stepped gingerly out of our Zodiac and into the fizzing surf at Stromness Bay, South Georgia. I picked a careful route across the grey-pebble beach, eyeing warily the growling fur seals and slumbering elephant seals, their gargantuan bodies emitting a series of burps, bellows and rumbling bass notes.

At the far end of the bay, set against a mountain slope and surrounded by bog land, was a cluster of dilapidated, rusty, corrugated iron buildings. Huge sections of the roofs and walls were missing, and those that remained rattled incessantly in the near gale-force wind. It looked as if a natural disaster had struck. I stopped at an ‘Asbestos – Keep Out’ sign and peered through the encroaching mist, my extremities numb from the sub-zero conditions. It was a struggle to picture the station as a thriving community, yet a century ago Stromness was part of a highly profitable – and brutal – industry that transformed South Georgia into the whaling capital of the South Atlantic.

View image of Stromness, South Georgia, was once part of a highly profitable – and brutal – industry (Credit: Credit: Zoonar GmbH/Alamy)

You may also be interested in: • The city that lit the world • A strange life at the end of the world • Is this the world’s last paradise?

Earlier in my trip, Seb Coulthard, expedition guide and on-board historian for Polar Latitudes, told me how Ernest Shackleton arrived in Stromness in 1916 following his epic 1,300km escape from Elephant Island, one of the South Shetland Islands that lie just north of the Antarctic Peninsula, after his ship was trapped and later crushed by pack ice. For the polar explorer, the whaling station represented civilisation, but today nature is slowly reclaiming it. Fur seals sheltered beside a blubber cooker, king penguins waddled past disintegrating warehouses and skuas (aggressive, dark-brown seabirds) washed themselves in meandering streams that once ran with the blood of tens of thousands of whales.

A rugged, inhospitable land of glaciers, mountains and fjords, South Georgia is one of the most remote places on Earth. This sub-Antarctic British overseas territory in the South Atlantic is around 1,400km from its nearest inhabited neighbour, the Falkland Islands, and is only accessible by sea. Like me, the majority of the nearly 18,000 people who visit each year are on Antarctic cruises. The island spans 3,755 sq km – less than a fifth of the size of Wales – and around half is covered permanently by ice (though, as a result of climate change, its glaciers are drastically retreating).

Despite its isolation and harsh environment, South Georgia was once a vital part of the global economy. First sighted in 1675, this uninhabited island was claimed for Great Britain by James Cook in 1775. His accounts of abundant seal populations aroused the interest of sealers from the UK and the US. In little more than a century, South Georgia’s fur seals were hunted to the verge of extinction. By the early 1900s, sealing was no longer economically viable, but it was quickly replaced by an equally bloody industry.

View image of South Georgia was once a vital part of the global economy, but today it’s being reclaimed by nature (Credit: Credit: Shafik Meghji)

The day after my visit to Stromness, my ship sailed south through 75-knot winds to King Edward Cove. Scattered with shipwrecks and mini icebergs, backed by forbidding mountains and obscured by drizzle, this sweeping bay was the location of South Georgia’s first whaling station, Grytviken. Today it is the site of the island’s main settlement, home to the majority of the 15 to 30 people, mostly scientists and government officials, who live on South Georgia at any one time.

After paying my respects to Shackleton, who is buried in Grytviken’s small cemetery, I was taken around the decaying whaling station by Finlay Raffle, a curator at the site’s museum. We walked through an industrial landscape of squat towers, warehouses, power plants, mazes of inter-connected pipes, and huge blubber and bone cookers, everything thickly covered with rust. Along the shoreline, ships and boats in varying stages of collapse were pushed up at odd angles by the tide. Chunks of whale bone carpeted the muddy ground.

In 1902, Norwegian polar explorer Carl Anton Larsen stopped in South Georgia and chanced upon a beautiful natural harbour. After the discovery of several sealers’ try-pots – used to render oil from blubber – the area was named Grytviken (‘Pot Cove’ in Norwegian). “They moored not far off from where your ship is today,” Raffle said. “The only difference was when they looked out over the water they saw hundreds of whales in this bay alone.” With the northern hemisphere whaling industry in decline due to the decimation of whale populations, Larsen spotted a business opportunity. He returned to Grytviken in November 1904 and set up a whaling station, which swiftly prospered. By 1912, there were six other whaling stations on South Georgia, including Stromness.

View image of Grytviken, South Georgia’s first whaling station, is the site of the island’s main settlement (Credit: Credit: Shafik Meghji)

Narrowly dodging a pair of fur seals, who blended in remarkably well with the rusty machinery, we approached an old whale-catcher. With its steam-powered engine, reinforced hull and mighty harpoon gun, the whaling ship Petrel could capture as many as 14 whales on a single trip. Back at Grytviken, the animals would be winched onto a slipway, the ‘flensing plan’. “It was very slippery with all the blood and oil, so the men wore boots with nails in them to grip properly” Raffle said. “They had a flensing knife – a long, almost hockey stick with a sharp, curved blade, which they used to cut the blubber away.” The whole process took 20 minutes per whale.

Initially the whalers were only interested in the blubber, but later regulations forced them to use the whole of the carcass, Raffle explained, pointing out gory rotating blades and a 24-tonne blubber cooker. Although the meat and bone-meal were sold as animal feed and fertiliser, whale oil was the real prize. “The best oils went into food products like margarine and ice cream,” he said. “The second grade went into soap and cosmetics, and the worst was used in industrial processes.” Whale oil also provided glycerol, used in the manufacture of explosives, and high-quality lubricants for rifles, chronometers and other military equipment. As a result, demand soared during World War One and Two.

There were 450 men at Grytviken in its heyday, working 12-hour shifts, seven days a week, in temperatures that could plunge below -10C. Larsen was keen to look after their spiritual needs, building an impressive neo-Gothic church. But, said Raffle said, the pastor “was the least employed man on the station”. The cinema, windswept football pitch and ski jump – now just a few bits of broken timber protruding from a hillside – proved rather more popular. The community store, or ‘slop chest’, also provided distractions. “Tobacco was the most popular item but the men also bought lots of cologne,” Raffle said. “Larsen didn’t allow alcohol, so they drank cologne instead. They also had illicit stills, and even got boot polish, squeezed it through bread, and drank the drippings, which apparently also had alcohol. Anything to pass the time.”

View image of The whaling ship Petrel could capture as many as 14 whales on a single trip (Credit: Credit: David Tipling Photo Library/Alamy)

Raffle left me at the former manager’s house, a simple, white-washed building that has been turned into the site’s museum. The displays inside contain some stark figures: 175,250 whales were processed on South Georgia between 1904 and 1965, when the industry collapsed due to over-hunting and developments in the petrochemicals industry. If you consider the Antarctic region as a whole and include the many ‘factory ships’ that processed whales on board, almost 1.5 million whales were killed between 1904 and 1978, when hunting of the species eventually ended.

Whale populations haven’t recovered. The International Whaling Commission (IWC) says blue whale numbers in the southern hemisphere have fallen from as many as 200,000 to the ‘low thousands’; fin whales have undergone a similar decline. There are an estimated 60,000 humpbacks in the southern hemisphere, but this is also far lower than the pre-whaling era. In September 2018, IWC plans for a South Atlantic whaling sanctuary were rejected by pro-whaling countries. Japan later announced it will resume commercial whaling for the first time in three decades, prompting global outrage.

It’s a bittersweet irony in that it was a terrible, brutal industry, yet nature took its sweet revenge by reclaiming it

The plight of the whales is undeniably bleak, but in other respects, South Georgia has become an improbable model of conservation. One of the world’s largest marine reserves, the South Georgia and South Sandwich Islands Marine Protected Area, was created here in 2012 to protect more than one million sq km of the surrounding waters, while seal numbers have bounced back: the island now has 98% of the world’s Antarctic fur seals and roughly 50% of its elephant seals.

South Georgia also has 30 million breeding pairs of seabirds. During my visit, I spent a morning at St Andrews Bay in the company of 400,000 king penguins – one of four penguin species found on the island – and an afternoon on Prion Island, an important breeding site for wandering albatrosses. Last year, South Georgia was declared rodent-free after a pioneering eradication programme, which the authorities hope will allow birds like the endemic South Georgia pipit and South Georgia pintail to flourish.

View image of South Georgia is now home to large populations of fur and elephant seals and around 400,000 king penguins (Credit: Credit: Shafik Meghji)

Despite the profusion of wildlife, it was the island’s whaling heritage that remained foremost in my mind as I sailed out of Grytviken. “When you walk about these stations all you see are these rusting boilers, blubber cookers and bone saws,” Coulthard said. “It’s a bittersweet irony in that it was a terrible, brutal industry, yet nature took its sweet revenge by reclaiming it. It’s a reminder that nature doesn’t need human beings; we need nature.”

This trip was made possible by Polar Latitudes. Trips to South Georgia are also available through Quark Expeditions, One Ocean Expeditions and National Geographic Expeditions, among other operators.

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On the Road a novel by Jack Kerouac

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

On the Road is a novel by American writer Jack Kerouac, based on the travels of Kerouac and his friends across the United States. It is considered a defining work of the postwar Beat and Counterculture generations, with its protagonists living life against a backdrop of jazz, poetry, and drug use. The novel, published in 1957, is a roman à clef, with many key figures in the Beat movement, such as William S. Burroughs (Old Bull Lee), Allen Ginsberg (Carlo Marx) and Neal Cassady (Dean Moriarty) represented by characters in the book, including Kerouac himself as the narrator Sal Paradise.

The idea for On the Road, Kerouac's second novel, was formed during the late 1940s in a series of notebooks, and then typed out on a continuous reel of paper during three weeks in April 1951. It was first published by Viking Press in 1957. After several film proposals dating from 1957, the book was finally made into a film, On the Road(2012), produced by Francis Ford Coppola and directed by Walter Salles.

When the book was originally released, The New York Times hailed it as "the most beautifully executed, the clearest and the most important utterance yet made by the generation Kerouac himself named years ago as 'beat,' and whose principal avatar he is."[1] In 1998, the Modern Library ranked On the Road 55th on its list of the 100 best English-language novels of the 20th century. The novel was chosen by Time magazine as one of the 100 best English-language novels from 1923 to 2005.[2]

Contents

1Production and publication

2Plot

3Reception

4Influence

5Film adaptation

6Beat Generation

7See also

8References

9Further reading

10External links

2.1Part One

2.2Part Two

2.3Part Three

2.4Part Four

2.5Part Five

2.6Characters

3.1Initial reaction

3.2Critical study

Production and publication

After Kerouac dropped out of Columbia University, he served on several different sailing vessels before returning to New York to write. He met and mixed with Beat Generation figures Allen Ginsberg, William Burroughs, and Neal Cassady. Between 1947 and 1950, while writing what would become The Town and the City (1950), Kerouac engaged in the road adventures that would form On the Road.[3] Kerouac carried small notebooks, in which much of the text was written as the eventful span of road trips unfurled. He started working on the first of several versions of the novel as early as 1948, based on experiences during his first long road trip in 1947. However, he remained dissatisfied with the novel.[4] Inspired by a 1000-word rambling letter from his friend Neal Cassady, Kerouac in 1950 outlined the "Essentials of Spontaneous Prose" and decided to tell the story of his years on the road with Cassady as if writing a letter to a friend in a form that reflected the improvisational fluidity of jazz.[5] In a letter to a student in 1961, Kerouac wrote: "Dean and I were embarked on a journey through post-Whitman America to find that America and to find the inherent goodness in American man. It was really a story about 2 Catholic buddies roaming the country in search of God. And we found him."[6]

The first draft of what was to become the published novel was written in three weeks in April 1951, while Kerouac lived with Joan Haverty, his second wife, at 454 West 20th Street in New York City's Manhattan. The manuscript was typed on what he called "the scroll"—a continuous, 120-foot scroll of tracing paper sheets that he cut to size and taped together.[7] The roll was typed single-spaced, without margins or paragraph breaks. In the following years, Kerouac continued to revise this manuscript, deleting some sections (including some sexual depictions deemed pornographic in the 1950s) and adding smaller literary passages.[8] Kerouac wrote a number of inserts intended for On the Road between 1951 and 1952, before eventually omitting them from the manuscript and using them to form the basis of another work, Visions of Cody (1951–1952).[9] On the Road was championed within Viking Press by Malcolm Cowley and was published by Viking in 1957, based on revisions of the 1951 manuscript.[10] Besides differences in formatting, the published novel was shorter than the original scroll manuscript and used pseudonyms for all of the major characters.

Viking Press released a slightly edited version of the original manuscript titled On the Road: The Original Scroll (August 16, 2007), corresponding with the 50th anniversary of original publication. This version has been transcribed and edited by English academic and novelist Dr. Howard Cunnell. As well as containing material that was excised from the original draft due to its explicit nature, the scroll version also uses the real names of the protagonists, so Dean Moriarty becomes Neal Cassady and Carlo Marx becomes Allen Ginsberg, etc.[11]

In 2007, Gabriel Anctil, a journalist of Montreal daily Le Devoir, discovered in Kerouac's personal archives in New York almost 200 pages of his writings entirely in Quebec French, with colloquialisms. The collection included 10 manuscript pages of an unfinished version of On the Road, written on January 19, 1951. The date of the writings makes Kerouac one of the earliest known authors to use colloquial Quebec French in literature.[12]

The original scroll of On The Road was bought in 2001 by Jim Irsay for $2.43 million (equivalent to $3.29 million in 2016). It has occasionally been made available for public viewing, with the first 30 feet (9 m) unrolled. Between 2004 and 2012, the scroll was displayed in a number of museums and libraries in the United States, Ireland, and the UK. It was exhibited in Paris in the summer of 2012 to celebrate the movie based on the book.[13]

Plot

The two main characters of the book are the narrator, Sal Paradise, and his friend Dean Moriarty, much admired for his carefree attitude and sense of adventure, a free-spirited maverick eager to explore all kicks and an inspiration and catalyst for Sal's travels. The novel contains five parts, three of them describing road trips with Moriarty. The narrative takes place in the years 1947 to 1950, is full of Americana, and marks a specific era in jazz history, "somewhere between its Charlie Parker Ornithology period and another period that began with Miles Davis." The novel is largely autobiographical, Sal being the alter ego of the author and Dean standing for Neal Cassady.

Part One

The first section describes Sal's first trip to San Francisco. Disheartened after a divorce, his life changes when he meets Dean Moriarty, who is "tremendously excited with life," and begins to long for the freedom of the road: "Somewhere along the line I knew there would be girls, visions, everything; somewhere along the line the pearl would be handed to me." He sets off in July 1947 with fifty dollars in his pocket. After taking several buses and hitchhiking, he arrives in Denver, where he hooks up with Carlo Marx, Dean, and their friends. There are parties—among them an excursion to the ghost town of Central City. Eventually Sal leaves by bus and gets to San Francisco, where he meets Remi Boncoeur and his girlfriend Lee Ann. Remi arranges for Sal to take a job as a night watchman at a boarding camp for merchant sailors waiting for their ship. Not holding this job for long, Sal hits the road again. "Oh, where is the girl I love?" he wonders. Soon he meets Terry, the "cutest little Mexican girl," on the bus to Los Angeles. They stay together, traveling back to Bakersfield, then to Sabinal, "her hometown," where her family works in the fields. He meets Terry's brother Ricky, who teaches him the true meaning of "mañana" ("tomorrow"). Working in the cotton fields, Sal realizes that he is not made for this type of work. Leaving Terry behind, he takes the bus back to Times Square New York, bums a quarter off a preacher who looks the other way, arrives at his Aunt's house in Paterson, just missing Dean, who had come to see him, by two days.

Part Two

In December 1948 Sal is celebrating Christmas with his relatives in Testament, Virginia, when Dean shows up with Marylou (having left his second wife, Camille, and their newborn baby, Amy, in San Francisco) and Ed Dunkel. Sal's Christmas plans are shattered as "now the bug was on me again, and the bug's name was Dean Moriarty." First they drive to New York, where they meet Carlo and party. Dean wants Sal to make love to Marylou, but Sal declines. In Dean's Hudson they take off from New York in January 1949 and make it to New Orleans. In Algiers they stay with the morphine-addicted Old Bull Lee and his wife Jane. Galatea Dunkel joins her husband in New Orleans while Sal, Dean, and Marylou continue their trip. Once in San Francisco, Dean again leaves Marylou to be with Camille. "Dean will leave you out in the cold anytime it is in the interest of him," Marylou tells Sal. Both of them stay briefly in a hotel, but soon she moves out, following a nightclub owner. Sal is alone and on Market Street has visions of past lives, birth, and rebirth. Dean finds him and invites him to stay with his family. Together, they visit nightclubs and listen to Slim Gaillard and other jazz musicians. The stay ends on a sour note: "what I accomplished by coming to Frisco I don't know," and Sal departs, taking the bus back to New York.

Part Three

In the spring of 1949, Sal takes a bus from New York to Denver. He is depressed and lonesome; none of his friends are around. After receiving some money, he leaves Denver for San Francisco to see Dean. Camille is pregnant and unhappy, and Dean has injured his thumb trying to hit Marylou for sleeping with other men. Camille throws them out, and Sal invites Dean to come to New York, planning to travel further to Italy. They meet Galatea, who tells Dean off: "You have absolutely no regard for anybody but yourself and your kicks." Sal realizes she is right—Dean is the "HOLY GOOF"—but also defends him, as "he's got the secret that we're all busting to find out." After a night of jazz and drinking in Little Harlem on Folsom Street, they depart. On the way to Sacramento they meet a "fag", who propositions them. Dean tries to hustle some money out of this but is turned down. During this part of the trip Sal and Dean have ecstatic discussions having found "IT" and "TIME". In Denver a brief argument shows the growing rift between the two, when Dean reminds Sal of his age, Sal being the older of the two. They get a '47 Cadillac from a travel bureau that needs to be brought to Chicago. Dean drives most of the way, crazy, careless, often speeding over 100 miles per hour (160 km/h), bringing it in a disheveled state. By bus they move on to Detroit and spend a night on Skid Row, Dean hoping to find his homeless father. From Detroit they share a ride to New York and arrive at Sal's aunt's new flat in Long Island. They go on partying in New York, where Dean meets Inez and gets her pregnant while his wife is expecting their second child.

Part Four

In the spring of 1950, Sal gets the itch to travel again while Dean is working as a parking lot attendant in Manhattan, living with his girlfriend Inez. Sal notices that he has been reduced to simple pleasures—listening to basketball games and looking at erotic playing cards. By bus Sal takes to the road again, passing Washington, D.C., Ashland, Cincinnati, and St. Louis, and eventually reaching Denver. There he meets Stan Shephard, and the two plan to go to Mexico City when they learn that Dean has bought a car and is on the way to join them. In a rickety '37 Ford sedan the three set off across Texas to Laredo, where they cross the border. They are ecstatic, having left "everything behind us and entering a new and unknown phase of things." Their money buys more (10 cents for a beer), police are laid back, cannabis is readily available, and people are curious and friendly. The landscape is magnificent. In Gregoria, they meet Victor, a local kid, who leads them to a bordello where they have their last grand party, dancing to mambo, drinking, and having fun with prostitutes. In Mexico City Sal becomes ill from dysentery and is "delirious and unconscious." Dean leaves him, and Sal later reflects that "when I got better I realized what a rat he was, but then I had to understand the impossible complexity of his life, how he had to leave me there, sick, to get on with his wives and woes."

Part Five

Dean, having obtained divorce papers in Mexico, had first returned to New York to marry Inez, only to leave her and go back to Camille. After his recovery from dysentery in Mexico, Sal returns to New York in the fall. He finds a girl, Laura, and plans to move with her to San Francisco. Sal writes to Dean about his plan to move to San Francisco. Dean writes back saying that he's willing to come and accompany Laura and Sal. Dean arrives over five weeks early, but Sal is out taking a late-night walk alone. Sal returns home, sees a copy of Proust, and knows it is Dean's. Sal realizes his friend has arrived, but at a time when Sal doesn't have the money to relocate to San Francisco. On hearing this Dean makes the decision to head back to Camille. Sal's friend Remi Boncoeur denies Sal's request to give Dean a short lift to 40th Street on their way to a Duke Ellington concert at the Metropolitan Opera House. Sal's girlfriend Laura realises this is a painful moment for Sal and prompts him for a response as the party drives off without Dean. Sal replies: "He'll be alright". Sal later reflects as he sits on a river pier under a New Jersey night sky about the roads and lands of America that he has travelled and states: ". . . I think of Dean Moriarty, I even think of Old Dean Moriarty the father we never found, I think of Dean Moriarty."

Characters

Kerouac often based his fictional characters on friends and family.[14][15]

"Because of the objections of my early publishers I was not allowed to use the same personae names in each work."[16]

Reception

The book received a mixed reaction from the media in 1957. Some of the earlier reviews spoke highly of the book, but the backlash to these was swift and strong. Although this was discouraging to Kerouac, he still received great recognition and notoriety from the work. Since its publication, critical attention has focused on issues of both the context and the style, addressing the actions of the characters as well as the nature of Kerouac's prose.

Initial reaction

In his review for The New York Times, Gilbert Millstein wrote, "its publication is a historic occasion in so far as the exposure of an authentic work of art is of any great moment in an age in which the attention is fragmented and the sensibilities are blunted by the superlatives of fashion" and praised it as "a major novel."[1] Millstein was already sympathetic toward the Beat Generation and his promotion of the book in the Times did wonders for its recognition and acclaim. Not only did he like the themes, but also the style, which would come to be just as hotly contested in the reviews that followed. "There are sections of On the Roadin which the writing is of a beauty almost breathtaking...there is some writing on jazz that has never been equaled in American fiction, either for insight, style, or technical virtuosity."[1] Kerouac and Joyce Johnson, a younger writer he was living with, read the review shortly after midnight at a newsstand at 69th Street and Broadway, near Joyce's apartment in the Upper West Side. They took their copy of the newspaper to a neighborhood bar and read the review over and over. "Jack kept shaking his head," Joyce remembered later in her memoir Minor Characters, "as if he couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t happier than he was." Finally, they returned to her apartment to go to sleep. As Joyce recalled: "Jack lay down obscure for the last time in his life. The ringing phone woke him the next morning, and he was famous.”[17]

The backlash began just a few days later in the same publication. David Dempsey published a review that contradicted most of what Millstein had promoted in the book. "As a portrait of a disjointed segment of society acting out of its own neurotic necessity, On the Road, is a stunning achievement. But it is a road, as far as the characters are concerned, that leads to nowhere." While he did not discount the stylistic nature of the text (saying that it was written "with great relish"), he dismissed the content as a "passionate lark" rather than a novel."[18]

Other reviewers were also less than impressed. Phoebe Lou Adams in Atlantic Monthly wrote that it "disappoints because it constantly promises a revelation or a conclusion of real importance and general applicability, and cannot deliver any such conclusion because Dean is more convincing as an eccentric than as a representative of any segment of humanity."[19] While she liked the writing and found a good theme, her concern was repetition. "Everything Mr. Kerouac has to say about Dean has been told in the first third of the book, and what comes later is a series of variations on the same theme."[19]

The review from Time exhibited a similar sentiment. "The post-World War II generation—beat or beatific—has not found symbolic spokesmen with anywhere near the talents of Fitzgerald, Hemingway, or Nathanael West. In this novel, talented Author Kerouac, 35, does not join that literary league, either, but at least suggests that his generation is not silent. With his barbaric yawp of a book, Kerouac commands attention as a kind of literary James Dean."[20] It considers the book partly a travel book and partly a collection of journal jottings. While Kerouac sees his characters as "mad to live...desirous of everything at the same time," the reviewer likens them to cases of "psychosis that is a variety of Ganser Syndrome" who "aren't really mad—they only seem to be."[20]

Critical study

On the Road has been the object of critical study since its publication. David Brooks of The New York Times compiled several opinions and summarized them in an Op-Ed from October 2, 2007. Whereas Millstein saw it as a story in which the heroes took pleasure in everything, George Mouratidis, an editor of a new edition, claimed "above all else, the story is about loss." "It's a book about death and the search for something meaningful to hold on to—the famous search for 'IT,' a truth larger than the self, which, of course, is never found," wrote Meghan O'Rourke in Slate. "Kerouac was this deep, lonely, melancholy man," Hilary Holladay of the University of Massachusetts Lowell told The Philadelphia Inquirer. "And if you read the book closely, you see that sense of loss and sorrow swelling on every page." "In truth, 'On the Road' is a book of broken dreams and failed plans," wrote Ted Gioia in The Weekly Standard.[21]

John Leland, author of Why Kerouac Matters: The Lessons of On the Road (They're Not What You Think), says "We're no longer shocked by the sex and drugs. The slang is passé and at times corny. Some of the racial sentimentality is appalling" but adds "the tale of passionate friendship and the search for revelation are timeless. These are as elusive and precious in our time as in Sal's, and will be when our grandchildren celebrate the book's hundredth anniversary."[22]

To Brooks, this characterization seems limited. "Reading through the anniversary commemorations, you feel the gravitational pull of the great Boomer Narcissus. All cultural artifacts have to be interpreted through whatever experiences the Baby Boomer generation is going through at that moment. So a book formerly known for its youthful exuberance now becomes a gloomy middle-aged disillusion."[21] He laments how the book's spirit seems to have been tamed by the professionalism of America today and how it has only survived in parts. The more reckless and youthful parts of the text that gave it its energy are the parts that have "run afoul of the new gentility, the rules laid down by the health experts, childcare experts, guidance counselors, safety advisers, admissions officers, virtuecrats and employers to regulate the lives of the young."[21]He claims that the "ethos" of the book has been lost.

Mary Pannicia Carden feels that traveling was a way for the characters to assert their independence: they "attempt to replace the model of manhood dominant in capitalist America with a model rooted in foundational American ideals of conquest and self-discovery."[23] "Reassigning disempowering elements of patriarchy to female keeping, they attempt to substitute male brotherhood for the nuclear family and to replace the ladder of success with the freedom of the road as primary measures of male identity."[23]

Kerouac's writing style has attracted the attention of critics. On the Road has been considered by Tim Hunt to be a transitional phase between the traditional narrative structure of The Town and the City (1951) and the "wild form" of his later books like Visions of Cody (1972).[24] Kerouac's own explanation of his style in "Essentials of Spontaneous Prose" (1953) is that his writing is like the Impressionist painters who sought to create art through direct observation. Matt Theado feels he endeavoured to present a raw version of truth which did not lend itself to the traditional process of revision and rewriting but rather the emotionally charged practice of the spontaneity he pursued.[25] Theado argues that the personal nature of the text helps foster a direct link between Kerouac and the reader; that his casual diction and very relaxed syntax was an intentional attempt to depict events as they happened and to convey all of the energy and emotion of the experiences.[25]

Influence

On the Road has been an influence on various poets, writers, actors and musicians, including Bob Dylan, Van Morrison, Jim Morrison, and Hunter S. Thompson.

From journalist Sean O'Hagan, in a 2007 article published in The Guardian:

" 'It changed my life like it changed everyone else's,' Dylan would say many years later. Tom Waits, too, acknowledged its influence, hymning Jack and Neal in a song and calling the Beats "father figures." At least two great American photographers were influenced by Kerouac: Robert Frank, who became his close friend—Kerouac wrote the introduction to Frank's book, The Americans—and Stephen Shore, who set out on an American road trip in the 1970s with Kerouac's book as a guide. It would be hard to imagine Hunter S. Thompson's road novel Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas had On the Road not laid down the template; likewise, films such as Easy Rider, Paris, Texas, and even Thelma and Louise. "[26]

In his book Light My Fire: My Life with The Doors, Ray Manzarek (keyboard player of The Doors) wrote "I suppose if Jack Kerouac had never written On the Road, The Doors would never have existed."

On the Road influenced an entire generation of musicians, poets, and writers including Allen Ginsberg. Because of Ginsberg’s friendship with Kerouac, Ginsberg was written into the novel through the character Carlo Marx. Ginsberg recalled that he was attracted to the beat generation, and Kerouac, because the beats valued “detachment from the existing society,” while at the same time calling for an immediate release from a culture in which the most "freely" accessible items—bodies and ideas—seemed restricted (1). Ginsberg incorporated a sense of freedom of prose and style into his poetry as a result of the influence of Kerouac (1).[27]

Film adaptation

Main article:

On the Road (film)

A film adaptation of On the Road had been proposed in 1957 when Jack Kerouac wrote a one-page letter to actor Marlon Brando, suggesting that he play Dean Moriarty while Kerouac would portray Sal Paradise.[28]Brando never responded to the letter; later on Warner Bros. offered $110,000 for the rights to Kerouac's book, but his agent, Sterling Lord, declined it, hoping for a $150,000 deal from Paramount Pictures, which did not occur.[28]

The film rights were bought in 1980 by producer Francis Ford Coppola for $95,000.[29] Coppola tried out several screenwriters, including Michael Herr, Barry Gifford, and novelist Russell Banks, even writing a draft himself with his son Roman, before settling on José Rivera.[30][31] Several different plans were considered: Joel Schumacher as director, with Billy Crudup as Sal Paradise, and Colin Farrell as Dean Moriarty; then Ethan Hawke as Paradise and Brad Pitt as Moriarty; in 1995, he planned to shoot on black-and-white 16mm film and held auditions with poet Allen Ginsberg in attendance, but all those projects fell through.[31]

After seeing Walter Salles' The Motorcycle Diaries (2004), Coppola appointed Salles to direct the movie.[32] In preparation for the film, Salles traveled the United States, tracing Kerouac's journey and filming a documentary on the search for On the Road.[33] Sam Riley starred as Sal Paradise. Garrett Hedlund portrayed Dean Moriarty.[33] Kristen Stewart played Mary Lou.[34] Kirsten Dunst portrayed Camille.[35] The film screened at the Cannes Film Festival in 2012[36] and was nominated for the Palme d'Or.[37]

In 2007, BBC Four aired Russell Brand On the Road, a documentary presented by Russell Brand and Matt Morgan about Kerouac, focusing on On the Road. The documentary American Road, which explores the mystique of the road in US culture and contains an ample section on Kerouac, premiered at the AMFM Festival in California on 14 June 2013, when it won the award for Best Documentary.[38]

Beat Generation

Main article:

Beat Generation

While many critics still consider the word "beat" in its literal sense of "tired and beaten down," others, including Kerouac himself promoted the generation more in sense of "beatific" or blissful.[39] Holmes and Kerouac published several articles in popular magazines in an attempt to explain the movement. In the November 16, 1952 New York Times Sunday Magazine, he wrote a piece exposing the faces of the Beat Generation. "[O]ne day [Kerouac] said, 'You know, this is a really beat generation' ... More than mere weariness, it implies the feeling of having been used, of being raw. It involves a sort of nakedness of mind, and ultimately, of soul: a feeling of being reduced to the bedrock of consciousness. In short, it means being undramatically pushed up against the wall of oneself."[40] He distinguishes Beats from the Lost Generation of the 1920s pointing out how the Beats are not lost but how they are searching for answers to all of life's questions. Kerouac's preoccupation with writers like Ernest Hemingway shaped his view of the beat generation. He uses a prose style which he adapted from Hemingway and throughout On the Road he alludes to novels like The Sun Also Rises. "How to live seems much more crucial than why."[40] In many ways, it is a spiritual journey, a quest to find belief, belonging, and meaning in life. Not content with the uniformity promoted by government and consumer culture, the Beats yearned for a deeper, more sensational experience. Holmes expands his attempt to define the generation in a 1958 article in Esquire magazine. This article was able to take more of a look back at the formation of the movement as it was published after On the Road. "It describes the state of mind from which all unessentials have been stripped, leaving it receptive to everything around it, but impatient with trivial obstructions. To be beat is to be at the bottom of your personality, looking up."[41]