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ooo wonderful story and render Reserv... I think I remember seeing that render a while back... hum... Anyway.. THANK YOU for sharing.. :) hugzzzzzz
I recently had homework for my FEBRUARY Grafton Writers assignment.... CONVERSATION.
Tell the story of a robbery in the first person, from the point of view of the criminal. Have the criminal tell the story as if he were attempting to convince the reader that his actions were justified.
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"Don Pedro" by Llola Lane (a prequel to The Three Kittyteers by Llola Lane)
“My name is Don Pedro and I am a thief. I have been a thief for as long as I can remember. I know stealing is wrong. My parents tried to teach me about right and wrong. But times are tough... and sometimes you have to steal to survive. That is what I am trying to do... Just survive.”
“No one will miss what I take. I'm like Robin Hood, taking from the rich and giving to the poor. The children at the Kitten Orphanage need me. They will starve if I do not steal.”
“If I want to make it to next week... I MUST steal, I tell myself. I sniff around the garbage cans looking for scraps from the market. I find what’s left of a fish and eat only enough to fill my belly part way. The rest I save for those who depend on me to bring home dinner. “
“I make my way into the meat market. I make sure I’m not seen. There will be hell to pay if I’m spotted and the children need me to be at my best tonight. Last night I did not have any success finding food and the kittens went to bed hungry. Now I feel guilty. I vow that they shall not go to bed hungry again tonight.”
“The meat market is busy. No one seems to notice me stalking in the darkness. My favorite vendor is open and stocked to the brim and overflowing. Fish... Fresh fish. The children will eat well tonight if I’m careful. The meat vendor has a watch dog. It will take all my cunning to get past that dog. Carefully I make my way in the dark shadows. I can smell the fish now. Just a few more steps..... “
“’HEY!!! What are you doing here?’ I’ve been spotted. The large dog is breathing down my neck. I have to think fast...
“‘Hi Gus... erm... You are looking good tonight all clean and shiny. I just came to say HI. Anything good happening tonight?’ My voice is strong and not shaky. I know Gus' weakness for compliments. I’ve used this trick before. If I compliment him he will GIVE me the fish. Like stealing candy from a baby. I smile to myself.”
“Gus sticks out his chest. ‘Ya like the new me?’ He struts around me. ‘I was just groomed today. My owner paid for the works at the saloon. Just give me a sniff. Go ahead... I smell real good!’ He pauses to let me sniff.”
“Echhhkk... Dog smell, I think... But I go right on sniffing and pretend to like the smell. ‘Ya smell like flowers,’ I tell him. ‘No dog smelled better... and your coat... It shines so bright I'm practically blinded!’ I knew those words would make the dog putty in my paws. Dogs don't have a very good memory so I use this trick a few times a month if need be.”
"’How many kittens you have to feed this time?’ Gus asks.”
“‘There's 10, and the newest one has a broken leg. Not sure if it's gonna make it,’ I tell him. ‘I found it last night. By the side of the road. Poor thing had been disguarded like garbage. It was so dehydrated. I gave it some water and the head mistress never left its side all night. It looked better this morning but it sure was hungry. We gave it what scraps we had left to eat but now we have nothing.’ I wait for a response with my head down. Is that a tear??? Good acting!”
“’Awe... poor thing...’ Gus takes the bait.”
"He'll be GIVING me those fish any moment now, I think with my head still down. My eyes look up sadly at Gus. ‘Not sure what we will do for dinner tonight,’ I mew softly. “
“Gus sees the tear. ‘Here now... no need for all that. You're my friend... right??? Here have a fish to take home... Make that two.’ He grabs 2 fish from the end of the counter and throws them at me. They land at my feet. My tummy growls so loud that Gus can hear it. (Now that was good timing) ‘Ahhh... and another for yourself, friend.’ He throws another fish to my feet.”
“‘No no... That’s too much,’ I say, knowing I will go home with all 3 fish.”
“‘Nonsense... we have plenty. You take them all... Can you carry them?’ Gus moves closer and shoves the fish at me. “
“‘Yes yes... I've got them. You are too kind. Thank you Gus.’ And with that I am out of the market faster than a rocket. I don’t want Gus to change his mind. I leave the garbage fish where I found it... in the garbage! Nothing like fresh fish for dinner. The head mistress will be sooo pleased.”
“I am greeted with hugs and kisses from the children at the orphanage. My newly adopted brothers, Don Carlos and Don Juan, lead the pack. The head mistress nods her approval. ‘You did a good thing today Don Pedro. The short time you have been here we have fed many mouths. Our kittens are growing up strong and will soon leave to have families of their own. I am so proud of you.’ She licks my ear and I blush.”
“‘Ahem... all right everyone… let's eat!’ I lay the 3 fish flat on the ground and divide them up equally for everyone to enjoy. ‘Dig in!!!’ There is a mad dash for the pieces and I sit back and smile to myself. As I watch the kittens eat their fill I think about Gus... Like taking candy from a baby!”
Gus was found in a alley with his head bash in .
The cops are looking for a cat seen leaving where Gus worked .
If any one has any info please 911 .
Cathedral combat
She was known as Christine in Large Fen. An old woman who did nothing to hide she was a witch. And one of great powers too. Occasionally people from villages surrounding Large Fen sought her help. She refused categorically. Not because she had been mistreated, or held a grudge against them. She just refused because she wanted to be left alone and didn't want to intervene, no matter what. "Let nature have its way and run its course, everything is in balance and should be kept that way".
But when a group of villagers came to her and asked for her help against a creature from the Underrealms, a living dead, a vampire - she for the first and last time ever, grabbed her staff and decided this time, she had to help them. A living dead was not an act of nature. It was an abomination. Caused by the darkest of magic, which didn't align with the laws of nature in any way.
There was a terrible battle in cathedral, almost destroying it, but she vanquished the horrific being, and finally banished it to another century.
(Unfortunately ours).
LOL Bigh
oh nooooooooooooooo reserv... not ours!!! (ducks)...lol
Thanks for the great story... :)
A HOMEWORK assignment... write a story about someone with a mental illness and how they overcome it. (During the discussion I found out that my fear of heights is considered a mental illness! THAT was my inspiration... LOL)
==========================
"Pixie" by Llola Lane
Who ever heard of a fairy afraid of heights??? Well that was Pixie... afraid to soar high in the sky with the birds. Afraid to visit her friends in the giant tree tops. Afraid to go higher than a few feet from the ground. In fact... she got around mostly by walking. She didn't wander far from her home in an old tree stump, at the bottom of a hill.
As she sits on the edge she contemplates her next move. She thinks about her childhood and her mother and lets her mind wander back.
It wasn't her fault really that she was scared of heights. She's been terrified ever since she can remember. Her mother told her of a fall she had when she was very little and that is probably why she is scared. Her mother left her alone for a few short moments in her nest. And when she returned... Pixie was gone. Pixie had been carried away with a gust of wind, and her frail little wings couldn't lift her back to the comfort of her nest.
Pixie doesn't remember the wind that made her fall from her nest, but she does remember falling uncontrollably. Even now her stomach gets queasy as she remembers. She also recalls landing on a soft bed of algae at the edge of a riverbed and, being all wet. She's not sure why she survived the fall but she IS grateful to be alive.
She is brought back to reality by a little voice talking to her...
"Go ahead... you can do it," the voice said.
This was her first time flying in a long time. She'd made it up to the windowsill; now she needed to fly a little further to deliver her prize.
The sill is far from the ground. She doesn't look down. Her stomach is getting queasy again. She takes a deep breath and looks at the little girl lying in her bed just a few feet from the sill. She has black hair and doesn't have any covers on. She looks like an angel sleeping. Her feet move and she makes a little moan.
"Go ahead Pixie... it's time. Before she wakes!" The voice talks to her again. Pixie looks up and sees her mother standing on the sill next to her. "You can do it. You are grown now. It's time to earn those wings. Don't worry.... You won't fall. They CAN carry you. Try!"
Pixie stood up on the sill. She closed her eyes and let her wings flap. They slowly carried her up, a few inches off the sill. She opened her eyes... She was doing it!!! She had spent so much time on the ground that she didn't really try her wings much. They were stronger than she remembered. She flew to the bed and never looked down.
Over the bed she was confident that if she fell it would be a soft landing, so she let herself fly a little. She soared high up into the canopy and MADE herself look down. She twirled around. Her mother was still on the sill watching her. Mother urged her on to her duty, but Pixie was having too much fun. She swooped and glided all around the bed. She even managed to fly off the bed a few times but that didn't seem to scare her any more. Her stomach soothed and she didn't feel queasy any longer.
Mother was getting restless and was waving her onward frantically. She had played long enough. It was time to work. "Earn those wings" as mother said. She was not a little girl anymore. She was an adult and it was time to act like one.
Composing herself, Pixie made her way to the little girls’ pillow. She waved her wand over the pillow and the tooth appeared inside the wand. She then tucked a coin under the pillow and flew to the little girl's head. She blew her a kiss and fairy dust swirled into the air. The little girl stirred in her sleep and moaned as she sucked her thumb. Pixie smiled at a job well done and looking at the little girl, she knew she'd never be afraid of heights again.
712 words
Well I had to try this in DAZ Studio, just to see if I could do it well. Thanks to PDG for his explanations concerning textures for fur, hair, and the like; which he has been teaching me in Poser. I have been able to apply these techniques somewhat successfully in this render. I did not think it would look even close to as good as it does here! After all, this is my first attempt in DAZ Studio. The crazy thing is that for the color of the fur I used a stone flooring photo I shot at a laudromat near hear. When combined with the noise image I used, which I created in Project Dogwaffle, it does not look at all like stone. It actually looks quite convincing as fur. The animal I used is the Millennium Cat LE, available at DAZ 3D. Certain other textures on the Cat need to be better, but all in all I think this looks pretty good.
Along with this render I am including a little ditty I wrote "on the fly" to go with this render.
There's a Right Way to Rub Someone the Wrong Way
Now in my home we have three cats,
And they always like finding where I'm at!
Even though it might seem I treat them rough,
They just can't seem to get enough!
No, I don't hurt them, or treat them bad!
In fact it seems to make them glad!
I just pet their backs the opposite way!
Seems there's a right way to rub someone the wrong way!
Now I've been told I have magic hands,
Because others can't do what I can!
When I massage, I cause no pain,
And good feelings are what is gained!
See I don't hurt you or treat you bad!
In fact you'll likely be quite glad!
I just stroke your back the opposite way,
Yes, there's a right way to rub someone the wrong way!
Written by Agent 0013 AKA Cleve Major
Thank you Agent for your wonderful story and render... I just wanna pet the soft fuzzy fur of your kitty :) Hugzzzzzzzzzzz
Your welcome, and thanks for the invite! Huuuuuuuuugggggggggzzzzzzzzz!!!!!!!
Thank you for inviting me Llola. Here's my story and pic.
Cathy
Jenny slowly climbed the stairs to the attic. “What is wrong with me?” she thought once again. “Why can’t I cry?”.
It had been a week since her grandmother had passed away and she hadn’t shed a tear. She’d gone through the motions mechanically. Making all the arrangements as Grandma would have wanted and preparing to sell the house that she had grown up in.
Cleaning the attic out was the only thing left to do. She dreaded this job, but she was the only one left and someone had to do it. If she could only cry, the pain might not be so unbearable. But she couldn’t.
She reached the top of the stairs, took a deep breath, and opened the door. Memories assailed her from all sides. There was her rocking horse, and next to that her grandmother’s old rocker. Nearby was her old doll bed. There were pictures and boxes scattered around. “How will I get through this?” she asked herself. She answered with, “You have to. You’re the only one.”.
Somehow, she managed to get it done. There was only one box left to go through and she opened the lid. There, sitting on top, was Sir Lancelot. Jenny gently picked him up and held him close. And she remembered.
She remembered the day that Lancelot had come into her life.
It was shortly after her parents had died and she had come to live with Grandma. She had been angry and confused. She cried to her grandmother “Why? Why did they leave me?”. Grandma told her “Come sit on my lap.” and she climbed into Grandma’s arms.
Your mommy and daddy didn’t want to leave you, but it was their time to move on. It isn’t your time yet. Here, I have something for you.” She pulled a small brown bear from behind her. “This is Sir Lancelot.” she said. “He was your daddy’s best friend at your age. Now he’ll be yours.”
“Whenever you start to feel like you’re all alone with nobody to talk to, all you have to do is hold him and talk to him. And when you do that, even if you can’t see them, your mommy and daddy will be with you.”
Jenny looked up at her grandmother’s chair. She could see herself and Grandma on that day so long ago. She held Sir Lancelot closer and whispered “Now I’ll have you with me too Grandma.”.
And she started to cry.
A lovely story Loonytunes(Cathy) Thank you for signing up for DAZ and sharing it on my thread. Hugzzzzz
Thank you for the invite Llola! Some might have seen the image and heard a prosaic version of the story over in the April New User contest forum... a contest that I cannot say enough good things about, particularly the WIP thread. The feedback given to help new users improve their images is invaluable. That being said, the poetic version of the story is new, so here she goes! Information about products and software used available upon request. A special thank you to lordvicore for the chia hair!
"A Siren's Lament"
If in a dark and raging storm
The winds howl like a song?
Turn not your ship towards yonder shore.
Lest to legend you belong...
The sirens' song call foolish lad
But no soph'more captain I!
My ears be stuffed but deafened, glad
To steer this ship ere nigh.
But one sweet night on lonesome sea
I gave first mate the keel;
I took my leave below the deck
and ordered up a reel.
How ever many nights before
I'd warned them of her force,
as good ale sloshed all through the crew
I felt us turn off course.
She drew us to her rocky shore,
All smit with strong desire.
One more set of haughty ghosts
Who laughed at matters dire.
But now it seems the fool, less I,
And more my siren love;
As I'd grown old but by and by,
I'd known her as a cub....
Oh yes she'd been my lover last,
And once she'd gone, no other.
It seems at some point in her past
She'd ire'd the Siren mother,
Who took away her human feet
And gave her feathered form,
And demon voice so she would meet,
Her love if she performed.
And so she sang, how could she not
Enchanted by this spell?
Entranced she sung, entranced I sought
To evermore we fell...
To evermore we fell...
I am dead, my ghost now grins
and cackles at the joke:
The siren maid who drew me in
Now finds her own heart broke.
In loves lament she built my bust,
An island in the sea;
A rock that draws unwary men
To become the likes of me.
It gives her joy to see them drown
Our island on no charts
Upon it all this rock shall frown...
Breaker of ships and hearts.
What a pair, what a mess
Together apart forever!
My hair the green of grassy tress
A nest for friend of feather.
As blade of grass draws life from death
One truth from this we learn:
As long as love lends life its breath
For happiness we yearn.
And happiness shall win the day!
(Though it may take forever.)
Because the roots of life shall fray
This island and its sad lovers.
With every blade of grass that grows
My stone bust tumbles down;
As roots of life kick rocks below,
Our island itself will drown.
And life and love rebound...
And life and love, rebound!
What a delightful thread. I enjoyed reading my way all through it and have this odd desire to be Rubbed the Wrong Way. Love it.
Here's my contribution. Hope you enjoy.
---------------------------------------------------
From Here to There
I don't know where There is or what There is. I'm Here now and Yesterday was Somewhere Else.
One foot forward then the next foot.
Companion near me takes one fork. I take the other. Farewell. Godspeed.
One foot forward then the next foot.
A stranger joins me. Nice to meet you. Dangerous Woods up ahead. How so? Just hurry.
One foot forward then the next foot.
Whew. Made it through. Let's stop for a rest. There's my friend across the lake and he's with my Dad.
How do we get there? Don't know. Back to the road.
One foot forward then the next foot.
Another fork. Which way to There? Oh all roads lead There.
Sooner or Later.
One foot forward then the next foot.
I like the fur very much- it's a bit different from the norm and that makes it unique in a good way :) I'm liking the poetry and stories too. Spit, awesome tree, lol- be afraid, be very afraid! Fiona, Siren's Lament has a beautiful flow and I love the artwork.
Prison World
Herbert had been watching through a view port as the prisoner transport ship approached, orbited, and then entered the atmosphere of the prison world. From space he could see no land masses anywhere on the planet, and once the ship had descended to just above sea level, he noted that water was everywhere on this planet. The only thing that protruded from the world ocean was a type of giant facility known as a Prison Habitat, and it was monstrously huge and imposing.
As the ship approached the facility, the ship's captain spoke, preparing the prisoners as best he could. "Rule number 1: You must fend for yourselves if you want to eat! If you do not, you will die! There is plenty of edible life in the ocean here!"
A big hardcase in the back of the ship asked in a gruff voice "What if I decide to take food from the other prisoners?"
"You will die!" came the answer. "Don't think for a minute that the others will allow you to live like that! They will take you out very quickly!"
The bruiser opened his mouth as though to say something else, then shut it when he saw the looks from the other prisoners aboard.
"Rule number 2: Watch your own back! There are no guards here, and you will likely make few friends, as every man is looking out for himself, and could care less for anyone else!" The captain spoke as though he knew it to be a fact.
There was a silence as he allowed these things to sink in to the minds of the prisoners. He then spoke again. "Any questions?"
Herbert raised his hand and asked "Are there any natural islands on this world?"
"None whatsoever!" the captain chuckled. "The only things sticking out of this water are facilities like this one!" He thought for a moment, and then said "You have free run of the planet; however, if you are thinking of escaping from this world, you will see soon that there is nothing you can find to aid you in such an endeavor. All the materials in every facility on the planet are the most basic by design; to prevent all escapes!" He looked at Herbert. "Anything else?"
"What about prisoners that have short sentences?" Herbert asked.
The captain busted out laughing. "Son, there are only lifer's here! No prisoner leaves this planet either dead or alive!" He got serious as he looked into Herbert's eyes. "If you were told that you would someday be free again, someone lied to you! You're here for life!"
Herbert began to make plans for taking one of the Prison Transport Ships in the future as this one docked at the facility. As he was going over the plan in his mind, a barrier of bars rose from the floor between the Captain and the prisoners. Their magnetic restraints deactivated, and the barrier moved toward the prisoners. A hatch opened at the other end of the cabin toward which the barrier was ushering them. Herbert looked back at the Captain through the barrier, realization on his face.
"Son, you've got no choice!" the captain exclaimed. "There is just the one way to go, so get going!"
Credits:
Prison Transport Ship - Explorer X25-3DC by Anderson Soares.
Prison Facility - A Bryce Primitive Terrain shaped and textured to look like a giant building by Agent 0013.
Water - an infinite plane with a water texture applied.
Sky - Stark Reality by Agent 0013.
Rendered in Bryce 7.1 Pro. Render Time - 00:34:47.
Secret Hideaway
Alan had been coming to this place for several years now, always alone. It was here, away from all the noise and confusion of civilization, where he could think clearly. And it was here that he always came to think on things.
Alan's thoughts invariably went to how different he seemed to be from every other person he had ever met. He just could not shake the feeling that he was not of this world. After all, he did have pointed ears! That much could not be hidden from anyone for long. He also did not act the ways everybody else did; not being prone to strong emotions, though he did have them.
The cloister of society seemed to interfere with rational and logical thought, and if he had not found and purchased this group of islands, he feared that he would have lost his sanity long ago. Indeed he might be ruined and forgotten; like the remnants of ancient architecture here on this island. He needed this time away and alone to help gather himself and sort out his thoughts. Here he could calm the storm that was in his mind; and upon returning to society, he could once again tolerate the constant noise of city life.
Still, more and more, he became certain he was alien to this world. He had never met anyone that was even remotely like himself. He wished someone, from whatever world that he might have originated from, would come and explain things to him. Whatever it was that made him feel as though he was missing a big part of who he was needed to be revealed. It was the worst part of his existence that he could not see all, or know all of himself. And soon he would go back to his life in the city once again, with that trouble unresolved, as always.
Credits:
Alan Alien - Genesis Male with several male morphs and my own Elven Ear Morph.
Clothing is from several outfits, to provide a unique combination.
Wildmane Hair Blond & Brown Combination texture.
GeniBeard for Genesis.
NoAi-columnwall.
Ivy grown on NoAi-columnwall in Ivy Generator.
Sting Ray Hovercar.
Fantasy Camp III Ground.
Backdrop done in Bryce 7.1 Pro.
Lights and Camera created and edited in DS4.7 Pro. Fnal Render in DS4.7 Pro 3Delight.
WOW... look away for a few days and when I come back..... what do I see??? Awesome stories and poems!
Thank you kindly for the contribution Fiona... I'm smilin'
Spit... glad you are liking my lil thread... and thanks oodles for your poem. (puts one foot forward... and falls....LOL)
I agree with Novica Mage... not all cats are perfectly groomed... winks
And Mage.. awesome stories as usual.. I'm happy they are in this thread for all to see :)
Hugzzzzzzzzzz to you all!!!
Thanks Llola!
I have never figured out why I could not use my normal user name here at the DAZ Forums. You know me as Agent 0013 at PFDLives, but here I must go by Mage 13x13. My other user name was rejected here when I first put one in for the Forums. Oh well!
Pristine Planet Ripe for Colonization
The Commander could still hear the Captain's voice in his mind. "Commander." he looked at the Captain. "Take the Yacht."
"Are you sure, Sir?" he asked.
"Indeed, I am!" came the answer. "She has not seen much service since she was assigned to the Excalibur. I think she will do perfectly for this mission." He smiled at his First Officer. "Besides, she is better equipped in her laboratory than any of our shuttles." He stood up and walked to the navigator's side, and without turning to look at the Commander, he said "Break her in, Commander!"
"Aye aye, Sir!" he acknowledged.
What all that was part of was the fact that a planet had been found that very well may be the most perfect for human habitation ever found; even more perfect than Earth. A trip to the surface was in order, and not via transporter. So a flight to the surface was planned. On board with the Commander were several crew from the Science division, each with specific disciplines in the sciences. A geologist, a meteorologist, an exobiologist, and a physicist.
There were three members of the security division on board, although the Commander thought they were just excess baggage, but reasonably it was prudent to have them along. Besides it was required according to Starfleet regulations. The Commander had decided to give the top ranking one among the security personnel aboard the honor of setting first feet on the planet.
The yacht flew several hundred kilometers at low altitude, as the people aboard took in the view of a planet that had no visible plant life on any of its land masses. Yet the O2 content of the atmosphere was an ideal 18%, with Nitrogen being the predominant atmospheric gas.
The reason for the oxygen content was obviously due to sea vegetation, which was later found to be quite similar to that of Earth. Animal life was thought to be present in the sea with some sizable creatures at the top of the food chain, but there was no confirming evidence of that as yet. That would be one thing that the exobiologist would try to determine.
Soon they came to a place where a cluster of impact craters were found. Obviously they were fairly old craters as there had been extensive erosion of the crater walls. The Commander decided this would be a good place to land, and he set the yacht down on a relatively flattened area at the top of a ridge. "OK lets go explore!" he said to no one in particular.
Security Chief Petty Officer Powell was perhaps over excited to be the first to set foot on a new world. You could see the excitement in the way she was acting. Soon the hatch opened and she stepped out onto soil that had never known human footprints. Her phaser was at the ready but she doubted it would need to be used. Still she did her duty, brandishing the weapon as she swept her gaze as far around her as she could. She even examined the ground and the sky.
As fortune would have it, the orange star that the planet orbited was just rising above the distant horizon. It had painted the sky itself in vivid shades of orange, pink, and purple, and had turned the clouds into orange smudges. The great expanse of water intensified the effects broken only by the ridges of the old impact craters jutting out of it. Even that added to the scene so that what Powell was seeing was overwhelmingly gorgeous. She thought to herself "Girl if you never see anything more beautiful than this, you can be happy that you did see such beauty. This is something you shall never forget!"
At that moment, a wailing noise rose. Its direction was unable to be determined; sounding like it came from all directions at once. Powell had no idea what was making that sound, but it filled her with an overwhelming sense of dread. It had a haunting quality that penetrated to her very soul. Suddenly she did not want to be here; not standing on this ridge, not even on this planet. Even so, she found that she could not move her feet, and she want so much to do so, in order to return to the safety of the yacht's interior.
The Commander noticed the change in her demeanor. "What is it, Powell?" he asked.
"Are you hearing this?" she said to him, quietly.
"What do you hear?" he wanted to know.
"That wailing noise! Don't you hear it?" She turned her head to look at him.
He could see the fear in her eyes. "Return to the ship!" he ordered.
It was that command that gave her the ability to move her feet again, and she took full advantage of it. She hurried back inside as fast as she was able.
Throughout the rest of the mission, no one else heard that noise, and for several years after that it was thought that she had developed a case of nerves that caused her to imagine the noise.
Then after the planet had been colonized, a cousin of her's who was one of the colonists visited the impact crater cluster. She had her two daughters with her, and her husband. If he had not been there it is likely that his wife and children would not have returned home. They heard that same wailing noise, and became rooted to the spot they were standing on, unable to move their feet. The husband was able to get them to move when he told them to get back in the sky car in a firm voice.
When Security Chief Powell (she had been promoted by then) heard about the incident, she knew it was real and not imagined. It turned out that latent psychic abilities were in the female members of her family, and it was this that allowed them to hear the sound and feel the bad energy of that location.
No one ever discovered why that place had that effect, but the prevailing theory is that it had something to do with the impact crater cluster.
Credits:
Excalibur Yacht - Model and textures by PTKS; Poser Conversion by Mattymanx; Exported for Bryce by Agent 0013.
Impact Crater Cluster created in Bryce 7.1 pro by Agent 0013.
Placid Water 3 Texture created in Bryce 7.1 Pro by Agent 0013.
Tangerine Sunrise 2 Sky created in Bryce 7.1 pro by Agent 0013.
Rendered in Bryce 7.1 Pro.
Wonderful story Agent... and the render goes with it perfectly! Thank you for sharing. Hugzzzzzzzzzzz
"Smoke" by Llola Lane
The smell of smoke fills the room. I forgot to close the window... again. The neighbor is having their weekly get together around the campfire. We were not invited. We are never invited. This week they are quiet... so far. But some nights they are loud and we can't sleep.
I stand by the window and let the cool night breeze swirl the smoke around me. I hesitate to close the window. Memories of campfires on Kelley's Island with our scuba diving buddies flood my mind. I close my eyes and remember Sid playing his flute one night around the fire. It echo'd its tune in the night air as he played his Indian songs. It was so quiet we could hear each time he took a breath. All too soon his playing stopped and I remember telling myself 'I'm glad I got video of him playing.' Only the sound of the crackling fire could be heard as the last echoes of his flute faded in the night.
Another breeze blows past me and another memory takes me back to Carters Lake. Countless nights spent by the campfire telling stories and eating marshmallows. The fire glowed on everyone’s faces and we would laugh when someone farted. We always knew WHO it was but we didn't care... the smoke from the fire quickly washed away any odor that remained. On the way to our camper, to sleep for the night, I would look back and watch the embers of the fire softly fade. Safe in our camper I would lay in my bed smelling of smoke and smile as I drifted off to sleep thinking of the day's adventures.
As I close the window I wonder where Sid is. Is he still playing his flute? We've not been to Kelley's Island in ages. I'm sure the campfire pit is still there. I do miss the ole gang. Even our camping spot at Carters Lake is long gone. The lake now has houses lining its shores so we are not allowed to camp there anymore. The old camper was sold long ago but a new camper sits in our driveway a little smaller but still holding a lot of memories around campfires.
I walk out of the room confident that the window is secure. I quietly thank the neighbors for the memories and turn out the lights and go to bed.
Excellent story telling, Llola! Thank you!
Thank you Agent.. glad you liked it :)
The Collaborator
In all wars there are those who, whether for survival, greed, or power, choose to work with their oppressors. Walking a fine line, they are the lap-dogs, sycophants, spies, assassins, and puppet governors of the oppressed peoples. They are, kindly, called collaborators. To the occupying force, they're an expendable, but useful, lot. The masters do not like, or trust, them. In the collaborator's presence, even the masters react as though they're near a contagiously diseased person. The collaborator may never become like their master; even if of the same race or country, they are alien. More simply, to the occupied, they are traitors; heinous scum to be vilified and exterminated like roaches.
This war was no different. The masters required collaborators to be intermediaries, governors, and enforcers. Thus, the men in their armor and face masks were enlisted. Their survival was ensured, so long as they obeyed; their greed was satiated, so long as they supplied what their masters sought; and their power was ensured, by virtue of their effectiveness. "Lucifer's Battalion", as they called themselves, was a sadistic, cruel, depraved piece of what had once been humanity. To a man, they were the most callous and psychopathic examples of mankind. It was as though they spent their off-hours dreaming up new and more heinous ways to treat their fellow mankind. They did not discriminate. All those, not wearing the armor and insignia of the battalion, were considered fair game. Raiding parties routinely collected scores of - samples - for their masters. Unsuitable samples were simply abandoned under deadly expedience. The lost were legion, rotting silently where they fell; never peacefully, rather their souls writhed in torment at the callous and barbaric ways in which they found death.
Those who managed to be selected were shuttled like cattle to the holding pens. There were two pens, one for females and one for males. This was repeated by region. The Battalion kept males and females separate, partly for logical reasons; males mixed with females bread wannabe heroes. Life in those pens was always hell, but was completely different depending on the gender imprisoned. The male pens were stereotypical "Lord of the Flies" scenarios. Constant battles for power and supremacy. The "best" were often enlisted into the Battalion. In the men's pen, blood ran like a river and many bodies were removed daily to be cremated. The women's pens were no less competitive, often far more subtle, though, no less vicious. Do not be fooled, the female pens had their share of violence and death, but, it was usually significantly more clandestine.
Welcome to 3130312066697273742073747265657420436c6172696f6e204941, otherwise remembered as Clarion, Iowa. Our torturers refer to it as Camp Nowhere, but we, call it Purgatory, for those who leave either go to heaven, or hell, none ever return. The fate of those who are taken is open to much speculation. Oh, we can imagine, though we'd rather not. The naive dream of being swept into a castle with knights to defend her, for women in this age, too, dream of power. Largely, though, most have nightmares of the fate they face once taken. While the masters are cold, methodical, and clinical, in their dealings with their captives, the Battalion is governed largely by hormones, fantasy, and depraved imaginations. None who are taken, go voluntarily; all go crying, screaming, and thrashing; until they are subdued by the stun guns.
I know these things, for I have been here a very long time. Never have I been selected, never have I known the fate of those taken; nor do I spend time, any more, upon the fate of those who are. Things are, as they will be. For many years now, we have not had control of our own destinies. They are controlled by the masters, and their minions. Illogically, I have never known the touch of the Battalion. I am fair of face and form, yet I remain unscathed. I sit, as matriarch to those children who eke out survival one sunrise at a time. In my time, I have come to observe, dispassionately, as newcomers arrive and are taken. I am sought for advice and mediation. I see that everyone is fed, that conflicts are resolved and that the majority of the imprisoned are kept whole, pending the collection. In this world, one cannot imagine that I would be untouched in such anarchy and chaos. Yet, I am considered sacrosanct in this mad place; for, you see, though I don't display the insignia of the Battalion, I am untouchable, for I live among the despised, I provide a valuable service. Though hidden by the lack of a mask, or armor, I am among the reviled - I am - a collaborator.
Hi Etrigan... WOW... great story. I'm glad you shared it with us. Thank you kindly. It was worth the wait.. winks
That is a well done story, Etrigan! I enjoyed your first person view of this world you created!
Etrigan, with your formatting that is impossible to read for those of us who use the alternative dark scheme for the forums.
Sorry Cholole, copy/paste from a Microsoft product does it again. I do my writing in OneNote, since it uses HTMLish markup it had the background set to "inherit" so it picked up your dark background scheme.
Thanks for your kind comments Lola and Mage.
Not sure this counts, so I'll link.
It's a part of the long, chaoatic story that's mostly in my head, but that I do write pieces down from occasionally. The render is new.
http://fav.me/d94x2ti