The Ship
|
Posted:Oct 26, 2013 7:15 pm
Last Updated:Dec 18, 2013 6:03 am
4799 Views
|
It lay quiet, perhaps sleeping, perhaps dead, a thing of metal, unknown metal, sitting exposed beneath the stars. Seemingly long dead, if a thing of metal could ever have lived, though our thoughts seem to tell us it did. Buried lost for ages untold beneath layers of earth and rock. Rediscovered, uncovered, unearthed, a mystery yet something familiar, capable of unearthing things buried deep in our minds. Hidden thoughts awaken; thoughts long forgotten now have born a new. Thoughts that speak the words, “We were here before.” or it seems as though we were. We can't remember when or how, maybe racial memory, (if one can believe in such a thing) but it seems sure that this is part of who we were, or at least were once.
Lying buried in the earth, buried in our minds in places never visited; yet places we have been before. Things long buried awaken again, things from the past calling down the ages to the ears of the present. This ancient thing of metal, older than anything made by our hand, this ancient thing of manufacture, beyond our current ability yet to make, and yet it bears our mark, our hands have touched this before.
There is a doorway in its surface, a hatch there to be opened and though we have to be able to bring forth the courage to do this simple thing. Can it be that in the opening of this simple doorway, that we are afraid it will open more doors within ourselves?
It is most frightening our familiarity with this ancient craft, that it is some how a part of us and we apart of it. Maybe it is we are afraid that the answers we feel must rest within will not be there, waiting for us. Afraid that the answers are there and more afraid they aren't.
So hiding our fears in our unsurity we took this thing of antiquity and built a park around it. Treating it as if it were no more than a statue to be displayed, and in our unsurity we still could not bring ourselves to open its door. Millions came and went in the years it sat there as if was a display. It seemed to draw people, not just curiosity or thrill seekers, but also everyone, and affect them all the same as it did us the ones who found it. The doorway was there but no one dared to open it.
The years went by and those of us that found it, those that still live, wonder yet what is inside and yet the door stays unopened. The world has walked through our park viewed the ship, touched its surface and yet never opened its door.
Are we content in our ignorance? We must be. Are we that willing to not to face our fears? It must be so.
I am the last of those who found the ship so many years ago, now old myself and ashamed of what we people have become. Lost in our own fears, withdrawn and hidden within ourselves. Afraid to face the thing we once were and might have become again. Sheltered in our ignorance, secure in our unsurity.
Confined to my chair no longer able to achieve mobility on my own. My grandchildren and their have come to visit and take me to the park, for what will most likely be my last visit, for surely I will not live much longer and will find freedom from this devil of ignorance and fear that the ship has come to represent to me.
It has been a long day, and I am tired. We (my grandchildren, their and I ) are still in the park. I have been left resting in my chair, the adults are at tables nearby, the are running and playing as only the young can, wrapped in their own worlds of imagination. It is peaceful, in spite of the nagging presence of the ship.
The sun is warm the breeze gentle and watching the at play I fall asleep. Something, some unknown call awakens me. My eyes trying to focus themselves after my interrupted slumber, hazily begin to take it what my brain fails to comprehend at first. The adults are still wrapped in conversation; are nowhere to be seen, though most likely are just someplace close though out of sight. How true this thought about the proves to be.
The ship sits there quiet as ever, same as ever, but no wait the door it is open, a black hole drawing my eyes and stilling my voice. It can't be, yet there it is, my fears and hopes hold me silent, it seems to me this is like onto the box Pandora was once said to have opened. What demons of knowledge have been again released upon the world? Will slamming it shut again trap the small voice of hope inside, as Pandora did, having to re-open the box so hope could enter the world? I hear the 's voices, lightly echoing out from within the ship, my heart freezes in my throat. A light blazes forth from the open door, a hum to low to really hear yet, only to be felt slowly building in our bones. The world suddenly seems devoid of all sound except that slowly building from the ship. It seems that my personal devil of fear and ignorance has finally come to life, but at what cost. The adults, my grandchildren have ceased their talk and as if of one body turn to face the ship wondering what is happening.
The silence and the sound both build as one, and unseen the door has closed. Without further noise or visible means, the ship slowly rises from its long resting place. Gently rising above the tallest of the trees and then with suddenness unbelievable it is gone. Stunned and unbelieving we return home silent in our shock our loss not fully comprehended as yet.
Later that night laying awake in my lonely room, sleep not coming to my shocked mind, one of my lost great grandchildren appears to me, he has a message for me and the whole of our world.
In the years the ship was left alone in the park it was not only being watched and touched by all the people that can to see it, but it also watched, waited, recorded all that went on around itself. Using the energy of the sun it slowly built it energy up, did what it could to repair things time had managed to undo. After years of study the ship came to the conclusion that the people of this world had become stagnant and the only hope for the survival of the world inhabitants was in the young, those that had not become bound by the fears and ignorance of their parents, and thus when the first opened the door unseen many years ago, it began its project to save man from himself. Over the years it was only the that dared to open the door and thus it was the it sought to teach, it needed crew and colonist to carry to the next world to try to start things anew. Today the final members had come aboard and the ship was ready, this was it's farewell to the people of this world it was time to continue on with its mission programmed into it many millions of years ago by its creators in hopes of saving man from himself and this world wasn't the first but the last of many that it had started since it was created.
This was the final message to us from the ship and our . Though the ship has gone and we have suffered a dear loss of some of our , perhaps the ship has saved us in a way not intentioned. Perhaps the new world our start will be a success, though we shall never know. In giving us this last message the ship may have opened our eyes and made what seemed to it a failure of stagnation, into something else, maybe we can be a success after all.
|
|
|
1
comment
|
|
A Touch of Magic
|
Posted:Oct 26, 2013 7:13 pm
Last Updated:May 20, 2024 10:5 am
4641 Views
|
The night was as if in possession of a life of it's own, alive with an infectious spirit of adventure, embracing all with its touch.
The sky was cloudless, crystalline in clarity. A cold light cast by a multitude of stars, filtering through the warmth of the night air. The night in its youth, the moon not yet arisen. A gentle breeze off the water, caressing all it touches with fingers feather soft.
A night to become part of, to touch, to bare the spirit and body to its freedom. To let the mind expand and roam free. To feel the light of the stars, the gentle breeze, the caress of the waves, to swim feeling the water flow over every part of your body, teasing, gently tickling, almost titillating in its touch. Alive, part of the night, the body free of restraints, and the mind set loose to explore, to dream. A return to the shore, muscles tired yet relaxed, the warm night air gently drying the water from your skin and hair.
In a state of complete relaxation that verges on euphoria, yet feeling so totally alive and part of everything and everyone around you. The realization that you have not been alone in this communion with the night has just now come to your attention, yet only adds to the experience this night has brought. What would have caused you some alarm if you had been aware of the others or they of you, now just seems a natural part of what has conspired, a sharing of the living night, sharing awareness of things wonderful and natural without shame or guilt. A touch of lost Eden before the apple.
The moon rises, turning night to almost day, with a brilliance of pure white light, captured by the waves and broken on the shore in a shower of thousands of sparkling droplets and absorbed by the sand. Areas of light, others of stark black shadow knife edged in their definition, as if stenciled on the land.
A night of seeming magic, laid stark and bare like those it touched and caught in its snare. The ancient goddess of the Wicca has made her slow walk across the sky. A pale gray light is touching the eastern horizon, time's passage bringing an end to the night. The magic, madness, clarity of thought being chased from existence with the coming of the light. Coverings beckon, homes calling, sleep seeking, time to hide things from sight. Eden over yet once again, with time all things come to an end. Bodies rushing, shadows blurring, vision obscuring with the breaking of the day, sense of wonder at what has transpired, smiles forming the magic gone, but not forgotten, a return to routine of living with the knowledge of life.
|
|
|
0
Comments
|
|
Dragon Tongue and Dragon Tooth
|
Posted:Oct 26, 2013 7:11 pm
Last Updated:May 20, 2024 10:5 am
4740 Views
|
The iron melted, poured into long thick heavy bars of iron ready to be forged. The coal was set ablaze the iron laid amidst the fire. Bellows pumped till the iron cooked and glowed white with the heat. Tongs to hold the metal, hammer and fold the iron, sparks fly the metal cools, more heat, red then white glowing again, over and over, folded more than a thousand times. Heat, carbon, hammering and hammering, the iron becomes steel, hard and thin, long and tapering. Once more to the flames, once more heated to the white, time for it's final shaping, time for the point and edges and then quenching. Hot steel drops into cold oil, the surface hisses and starts to blaze as it is kissed by the product of my forging, and I watch as the oil burns away to reveal the sword made by my hands. Fresh from its birth of fire I take the still hot newborn sword and quench it in another bath of oil though this time it doesn't ignite but absorbs what little heat is left in the blade. Once the blade has cooled I spend weeks polishing, removing any imperfections in its surface, for this is no normal sword, no not one of the swords I make for my shop. This sword is something that came to me in a dream, something never seen before. My hours of working on the blade are not wasted; I still make other weapons for my shop. As I work on this blade others in my family have their hands at work also to complete in this project.
My whose hands are so much more suited to working fine details than mine, have the task of etching the blade, with her mother's help. For her mother has the knowledge of runes. Together they shall place the protections on the blade, hidden amongst the artistry of the etchings. So as I finish the working of the metal, they prepare for their work with pen and parchment. My youngest will make the hilt and scabbard using the materials I have garnered for this task. He shall take gold, silver, and pieces of jade of the deepest green and marry them with the other treasures found because of my dream. He has my rude drawing from which to base his work upon and add his own embellishments. The shaping of the gems and treatment of the other materials so they will be ready when time comes for him to complete his part.
My part finished I have given the blade to my wife and , that they may begin theirs. Thus I leave them to their work, not to be bothered I put the sword out of my mind for now and begin work on its companion piece a dagger. The dagger is not made of steel but of a material very rare. It is of one piece, its working is slow and painstaking. In is natural form it is almost the right shape, a little thick and long with a gentle curve to its length. It tapers to a needlepoint, razor sharp on both edges back from the point for about four inches before it thickens and loses the edge to rounding. Careful I work to extend these edges further taking care to blend my work with the natural sharpness. I have to taper and turn the thick end so it will accept a hilt to match that of the sword. This smaller blade will not be etched with acids as the larger one, for acid would never harm the surface. The smaller blade of the dagger will be engraved and inlaid with enamels and jewel dust.
The months have past, the forge and shop have kept my family and me very busy, yet the work on my dream continues, and they say dreams cannot be hurried. My wife and have called me to come see the work they have finished. I had given them a blade forged straight and true, with a surface polished to mirror the sky. The blade still straight and true, its mirror surface still gleaming, yet now it seems to waver in the light the etchings seem almost to be under the mirror so fine are the lines. Some how the etchings seem to move with the light dancing with the turning of the blade. Scenes of a hunt, surrounded by leaves and vines, runes woven into the vines that seem to waver if looked upon directly. They have transformed a blade of simple beauty into a work of art. Holding the bare blade in my hands I feel strange warmth and there seems to be a slight vibration, a pulsing in the metal, though the blood cursing in my veins must generate it. I turn to my wife and and embrace them, giving them thanks and praise for the work they have done and what has been accomplished. Then set before them the dagger and ask of them what I require. Setting them on this new task, I wrap the finished blade with felt and take it to my , so he can make the scabbard and hilt.
He shows me the work he has done to prepare for his part. He hands me his drawings based on the ones I gave him. I looking over his work and listening to what he has planned I have but a few minor suggestions and ideas to add. I let him know the dagger blade is almost ready leaving him to his work. How he makes the hilts and scabbards is now in his hands.
My part of the work on the dream now completed or at least until my family has finished their parts, after my normal work is done at the forge I have time to look for things like those used already in the sword and dagger. I leave the forge to my two oldest sons to manage until my return, between them, my wife, and youngster they can manage without me while I go into the mountains looking for tidbits to use in my trade. They are used to this habit of mine and it has done well for us in the past.
I make my pack up with all that I will need to spend days a field. With me, I also take a serviceable sword, knife and sling. With a sling and stone I can usually manage to bring down a rabbit or bird for my evening meal. I say my farewells and make my way into the woods heading for my favorite haunts in the range of mountains near our home. No one not even my family knows what I look for, or what some of the materials I use are, and if I told them they'd think me crazy. After two days of travel I am over the first of the peaks and half way up the second, well hidden. I have taken trails only known to and a few others. The only others to know of the trails besides the animals of the forest and myself, have no need to use the trails and they know I am here for it is them I have come to watch. I see them now, the pair, the rainbow and the gold. I have watched them many times in the past, though all of my kind think the dragonfolk are just legend, things to tell about and amuse travelers at inns and taverns. Yes dragons are real, they do exist, and it is their choice to remain unknown. I found them by accident and made my peace with them, respect their wishes and they for all their wishes of being unknown, they like to know what is happening in the world of men. For the trade of news of goings on of men, I am allowed to take a few things from their nesting area, shards of broken and torn shell, scraps of skin and scales shed in growth, the broken tooth of a baby dragon, small things, their discards they have no idea what I would want such trash for but it has no value to them so they let me take what I want and can carry, which is not all that much.
I make my way to our meeting spot, an sheltered valley where there is room for them to land and be at ease, though there is little they have to fear, it is more for privacy than anything else. This is they way it has always been we meet and talk and after I am invited to take whatever I like from their trash. Although I know where their nesting place is and have been there many times, I never go there uninvited. Our conversation is long and enjoyable, I tell them things of the human world and they tell me of their travels, hunts and hatchings, of their races with other dragons. Dragonfolk seem to be a very peaceful people the only battles I have ever heard of are those of endurance and speed. Occasionally another dragon visits the valley to talk with them and me and I have heard the tale of the mating flight of the rainbow and the gold, it is almost legend with dragonfolk, although it happened many seasons past.
|
|
|
0
Comments
|
|
Flight of the Dragon
|
Posted:Oct 26, 2013 7:09 pm
Last Updated:May 20, 2024 10:5 am
4637 Views
|
With the rising of the sun, she awoke to the warmth of its glow, lying on the ledge, high on the mount near its crest. She felt its warmth on her scales, its light sparkling as it reflected back from her scales the color and brightness of polished gold.
She felt yet another warmth, a heat, a fire starting to burn within her, like nothing the young dragon had felt before. An urgency, a nervousness, an almost fear of what she was feeling began to over take her. In near panic she stood, stretched with every muscle taught, head extended high and sent forth a call, a challenge that dragons around the world all heard. With a leap she took flight, great wings extended and beating taking her ever higher.
She flew fast and furious heading for the great sea, hungry and more than hungry, angry and afraid. Not knowing what was happening, not understanding. Hungers drove her. Feelings gnawing at her, she dove into the sea. Hunting, trying to feed her hungers she killed and ate till she was full and yet hungers still drove her. With a burst of speed from her swimming she left the water like a dolphin, yet never stopping the leap, her great wings snapped open with the sound of thunder. Water streamed off her scales and fell like sparkling jewels back to the sea. Great wings lashed the sky driving her ever faster, ever higher as if in a race to reach the sun, always tracking its great light.
On the horizon appeared specks flying towards her; she screamed again her challenge, ever continuing her flight ever faster ever higher, driven on in an eternal race. She reached the upper limits of the sky, the air thin, clear, cold, brushed with shades of violet and gold, she chased the sun, endlessly sounding her challenge.
Days past without knowing, the flight was an endless beat of her great wings. Her pursuers, whose numbers had increased to hundreds during the first two days had since steadily dropped as the weaker males had not been able to continue, and still her flight and challenges continued now nearing two weeks of chase, the numbers down to two.
Of the two, one was a gold same as she, the other a rarity among dragon kind was a rainbow dragon and even more rare was his size, his body was thinner than that of the gold and the gold was a sleek dragon. The rainbow's wings where immense, his neck and tail long and sinuous. Though with each and their differences the gold and the rainbow were close to an even match.
The flight continued for days more till the golden pursuer had to stop, the needs of his slightly more massive body could no longer be ignored. The flight continued, she feeling the need more and more strongly, but not yet willing to give in, but her days of flight were beginning to tell and as she approached the sea yet again she slowed letting tired wings hold her in a glide.
The rainbow seeing her slow called on limited energy reserves and increased the speed of his flight to catch her. Coming in from above he grabs her wings with his fore claws, and haunches with his hind claws, wrapping tail around tail, neck twined about neck, the mating begins.
She feels him catch her, and as they become one her unknown hunger satisfied, her burning begins to cool.
Her wings holding them in a glide, yet with the weight of them both the glide steepens and they begin to plunge to the sea, locked in their embrace. Her wings fold, they plummet downward, unknowing uncaring they drop to the sea. Their bodies strike the waves and send forth an eruption of water reaching over one hundred feet high. As they sink beneath the waves the water slows them and yet they sink ever slowly to the bottom, where they break their embrace and begin the long slow swim to the surface, hunting, feeding and letting the water work its magic on their sore and tired muscles.
They reach the surface and begin a long slow swim to land, their abused wings unable to take them into the air. Reaching land they rest for days sunning themselves in the warmth of the day. Hunting to replenish energy reserves depleted in the flight. Yet soon they will have to take wing once again in search of a nesting place .
|
|
|
0
Comments
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
My first time, my first threesome and two good friends
|
Posted:Oct 9, 2013 7:00 pm
Last Updated:Oct 22, 2013 6:15 pm
5214 Views
|
When I was 17 I was working in a steak house. I was on my meal break one night and was drawing/doodling and one of the waitress grabbed my pad and took it to show this guy, next thing I knew he was limping over to my table and the waitress introduced us.
He was a Vietnam Vet, ex special forces green beanie as he called it. he had done three tours in Nam if made the cover of Life magazine for saving some , his version was he was just in the right spot at the wrong time, the right spot to save the the wrong time and got caught by a life photographer.
When he joined the army and qualified for the special forces, the army wanted to send him to the Olympics but he refused, he said he didn't join to play games he joined to fight he wanted to go to Nam.
He spent three tours in country, said it was some of the most beautiful country on earth, his unit would be in the field for months in places they shouldn't have been at the time. he was a Sgt. make in his last tour received a field promotion to captain that never officially came through. I was in his last tour his patrol got hit by a mortar attack and the shipped what was left of him to Tokyo hospital and put him back together as good as they could. He was blind in one eye, deaf in one ear, paralyzed in one arm and one leg and had a plastic plate in his head. The doctors said he would never walk or talk again.
While he was in the hospital the girl he was engaged to visited him once, took her engagement ring off put it on the table and left. My friend proved the doctors wrong, he walked at first with a cane and he taught himself to speak all over again. When he got out of the hospital he bought a corvette, but that is another story, when I met him in 1971 he had a late model ford thunder bird, four seater boat of a bird.
Now this history I share of his I didn't know much until after we be came friends, when I first met him he walked with a limp still did the last time I saw him. His speech has gotten better since II first met him, when I met him he talked with a lot of pauses and finger writing and table taping and a fair number of god damn its as he tried to find the words.
The reason the waitress brought him over to meet me was part of his rehabilitation was art and he had even sold a couple pieces, which is amazing in itself as a one eyed person looses the ability to see in three dimensions. Well we got talking, I was patient with his speech and as time went by I could second guess what he was trying to say most of the time and supply him with the word he wanted. When he found out I was still a virgin at seventeen he didn't believe it, said he lost his at nine in some sort of army sex club, no adults the made the club, years later another friend told me the same thing about him and his sister being part of the same club, I guess it was army wide at the time. Well once he found out I was still a virgin he mad it his quest to get me laid.
At seven I was a senior in high school and working a part time job which was pretty much full time. I would work until 1 am most night of the week if I worked on the weekends it was usually till 2 am and Sunday 12 am and he would be there to pick me up and we would cruise the coffee shops, the guy rarely slept, he would go on coffee until exhaustion over took him and forced him to sleep. On night we would cruise the coffee shops and then he would take me back to the steak house so I could get my car and go home. Other nights he would find a young woman or two, usually my age and he would take us to different spots to go parking mostly just kissing and feeling up the girls., but it was more than I had ever done with a girl, I never had a girlfriend, I was too quiet and shy, to introverted and too much a gentleman I guess, though I have learned since that even gentlemen and ladies have a flip side when the time is right.
One night he picks me up and then goes to meet two teenage girls he had met earlier. One was pregnant and he eventually married her and adopted the as his own, the other was a friend of hers that I don't remember much of other than she was a sloppy kisser and only went with use maybe two times, after that it was pretty much the three of us and we all became best friends and shared a lot.
At first I would just set to the side and watch a little as they started to make out, until my friend would motion to me to join them. I was confused about it at first never heard of such a thing, but he was insistant and would either point to her thighs or for me to take over kissing, so I did, she was a much better kisser than her friend, now I was new to all of this I learned to kiss buy copying the one I was kissing, I learn to feel her pussy by slow experimentation, it was great. Then they got married and she had the baby so I didn't see them for a couple months, they had gotten an apartment and eventually we got things back together again.
I was visiting them one night after work and things really got going and the next thing I need I had my head between her legs and she went wild almost broke my nose till I grabbed on tight and held her still and learned by doing, figuring out what would make her go wild and loved every minute of it. We would get together quite often after that and do the same thing. It was just before I went into the navy he decide to share her all the way, now I love both of them and wouldn't hurt either for the world. Her and I went into the bedroom and I was a bit nervous and we were about to start and I looked over my shoulder and saw him standing in the door way with a hurt expression on his face and rolled off the bed to the side and on to the floor and stood up and we both went out to talk to him to make sure he was alright, so I never got laid before I went into the navy (and that is another story on how I lost my virginity at 21).
But when I was home on leave we got together, they had become close friends with my family since I had met him, of course my family never new the entire story, though I have heard they caught maybe a peek of my friends life style. But when I was home on leave we went out dancing with other friends and then my friend brought me home and I showed them a home made motor home that I had picked up, it had a double bed in the back and my friend pushed us towards it, we start making out and it was getting pretty heated and suddenly he was gone took a drive leaving her with me. We looked at each other and decided to continue. She wasn't my first this time but see was my second and after we were done while waiting for him to come back, which eventually did she told me that was the first orgasm she had ever had without clitorial stimulation and to never say anything to her husband about it.
That was 39 years ago and this is the first time I have ever mentioned it to anyone. The three of us we sexually friendly sharing his wife for years until my ex became involved and through and incident where my friend though he was too scarred and ugly and left the three of us on the bed, and my ex thinking he left because she was too scarred and ugly for him I thought it best I follow my friend and talk to him after she got upset, and to put off our meeting for sex while I was married and that was the end for me. We are still friends and I still love him as a brother and love her more than anything and they are still together and have two daughters to who I was almost an uncle, they are both married and have of their own now.
I may have more stories of our history before my ex got involed to tell at a later date, but I think this story is part hero story and heroic in the way he and his wife lived.
|
|
|
0
Comments
|
|
To link to this blog (rm_Regg851953) use [blog rm_Regg851953] in your messages.
|
|
|
| Sun |
Mon |
Tue |
Wed |
Thu |
Fri |
Sat |
| |
|
1
|
2
|
3
|
4
|
5
|
6
|
7
|
8
|
91
|
10
|
11
|
12
|
13
|
14
|
15
|
16
|
17
|
18
|
19
|
20
|
21
|
22
|
23
|
241
|
25
|
2610
|
27
|
28
|
29
|
30
|
31
|
|
|
|
