I have a proposal for you dear reader. No, its not marriage, but its still pretty awesome. What I'm asking, what I'm proposing is a commitment. This proposal is also a challenge. The proposal is this: to have an adventure of some sort once a week.
You might be asking, "What exactly constitutes an adventure?", good question, and that is completely up to you. An adventure can be as large or small as you like. Reading a book different from the genre you usually read? That's an adventure. Trying out a new type of tea or coffee? Sure, definitely. A walk through the pouring rain while pretending you're in the musical Singing in the Rain? Most assuredly an awesome adventure. Going to see a movie in the theater alone? worthwhile adventure. Climbing a tree? Heck yes. Finding a new trail and seeing where it leads? Go for it! Ghost hunting in a graveyard? A great adventure. Asking out someone you like? Nerve-racking adventure. Building a snowman? Yes, and even more so if it is made somewhere other than your lawn. Hunting for treasure or artifacts? Yes, although the chances of this one being the case are less likely if you are not Indiana Jones.
Adventure is about imagination, fear, and spontaneity. Its about getting outside your comfort zone, even if its just putting a toe across that line. One thing a week that makes you smile(possibly mischievously), fills you with wonder and delight, lets you believe anything is possible; one thing each week that gives you a story. What do you say?
Showing posts with label adventure. Show all posts
Showing posts with label adventure. Show all posts
Sunday, March 10, 2013
Friday, June 8, 2012
Legend of the Lakes Pt 2
For Part One see here
The trees in this forest are huge. Its like they were given a challenge to block out the sun and when they did that they just kept going. I've just been walking and walking, it seems like its been days, but really its probably been just a few hours. Back at the pavilion I had stood there admiring my new attire wondering what to do next when the voice intoned, "You would do well to go West. There you will find the first of the tools and weapons you will need on your quest. You will find strength you didn't realize you possessed. Start in the heart of the forest, but this is only the beginning. You would do well to go West."
"Anything else I should know?", I asked, but the voice had gone silent. I started to walk towards the tree that lined the horizon.
And now it seems as if I've always been trekking through this forest. I tried to check my watch a while back only to remember that I threw it away on the beach after I washed ashore. It had not been as water-proof as advertised. As I mentioned earlier, the tree canopy blocks out most of the sunlight. Now you might be wondering, "Don't the plants which make up the underbrush need sunlight too?" Well, you would think, but they seem to be doing just fine in its absence. What I was more concerned with was, if there's not sunlight, how does everything seem to have a shadow? To create a shadow, the principle component is light! That source of light usually shines in a particular direction leaving a demarcated area of shade at an angle equivalent to the light. So then usually if all the shadows in an area are trailing to the West, then it would be logical to guess the sun is in the East.
That rousing description of the theory of how a shadow should function didn't fit with what I was currently observing: I stood in a small clearing and all the shadows were drawn towards the center of the clearing. The canopy above was completely covered. In retrospect I really should have gotten my butt out of the clearing. I should have just kept walking and ignored this strange oddity. You see, at that moment the shadows began to move, they began to spin in fact. They went around the tree like little cyclones. Each shadow spun faster and faster, form blurring until each shadow began to rise up off the ground and spin in the air. While this was happening, a few feet in front of each tree a glowing lantern materialized. With a "pop" each shadow took form and grasped their corresponding lantern. They now looked like floating ghouls, hanging just above the ground, they wore tattered capes and shawls, the hoods drawn over there heads letting only their gleaming eyes shining.
"Voice?", I whispered, trying my best not to draw their attention, "I could use a little help, if you have any to give!" Before I heard a reply the first ghoul darted swiftly toards me. I took a few small steps backward then did a backwards somer-sault to evade the encroaching ghoul. For half a second I was impressed with my new gymnastic skills, but it was short lived as I then collided head first into a tree with a loud "CRACK". Luckily the "CRACK" was not my skull breaking, but rather a large portion of the bark being split straight off the tree. There was a knog in the back perfect for a handhold, I grasped the bark and held it aloft.
"Good, you found yourself a tool. You may use the magically imbued bark as a shield to defend yourself. They are the Po, forgotten spirits that lie waiting restlessly for waylorn travelers. Be careful, they can suck the spirits of the living. Beware of their lanterns, they will use them to confuse and misdirect you. Either exit the clearing as quickly as possible or defeat all of the Po."
The voice finished advising me and the last vestiges of light vanished from the clearing. The only glow in the darkness came from the Po's lanterns. I closed my eyes to adjust to the darkness. Just a shield to defeat all of them? I began to hyperventilate but stopped myself, if my mysterious guide believed I could do this with just a magic shield, then I would believe in myself as well. I opened my eyes, they were beginning to circle me like a spectral pack of wolves.
Two of the Po dart at me while cackling, I lunge to the right, bring the shield up to my left. One of the two sinks its shadow clowas into the bark-shield. It shrieks as it realizes it is stuck in the bark. I take a hard step backward, and spin. The Po is sent flying into one of the surrounding trees, there is another "pop"and he stays in place, now nothing more than a shadow. Sweet! One down, this might not be so bad. The Po look a little wary now that they realize that I'm not just some way-lorn traveler. Three more shadowy ghouls dart towards me with fantastic speed. I execute a spinning shield defense without thinking, crying out "KIYYAAAH!" in the process. All three lamps are extinguished and the ghouls themselves are flung into trees. "Pop", "Pop", "Pop" they go, each reverting to shadows.
Only a few more left. I decide to take the offensive by dashing forward and leaping shield out onto the next unsuspecting Po. He or It thrashes wildly, raking claws extended at my shield, he is caught just like the first one. But my guard is down fighting the Po in front of me, leaving another to strike from behind, slashing down my back. I cry out in pain into the night of the forest. Then I whip the caught Po into the one behind me and run them both into a large tree. Again two audible "Pop"s as they disintegrate into dark shadows. I look around panting, they are gone. Are they? Can they be? They are! I made it! Looking around the clearing one last time I see one of the Po's lantern's didn't extinguish itself. I walk over and pick it up, another tool to aid me on the way. I continue on.
The trees in this forest are huge. Its like they were given a challenge to block out the sun and when they did that they just kept going. I've just been walking and walking, it seems like its been days, but really its probably been just a few hours. Back at the pavilion I had stood there admiring my new attire wondering what to do next when the voice intoned, "You would do well to go West. There you will find the first of the tools and weapons you will need on your quest. You will find strength you didn't realize you possessed. Start in the heart of the forest, but this is only the beginning. You would do well to go West."
"Anything else I should know?", I asked, but the voice had gone silent. I started to walk towards the tree that lined the horizon.
And now it seems as if I've always been trekking through this forest. I tried to check my watch a while back only to remember that I threw it away on the beach after I washed ashore. It had not been as water-proof as advertised. As I mentioned earlier, the tree canopy blocks out most of the sunlight. Now you might be wondering, "Don't the plants which make up the underbrush need sunlight too?" Well, you would think, but they seem to be doing just fine in its absence. What I was more concerned with was, if there's not sunlight, how does everything seem to have a shadow? To create a shadow, the principle component is light! That source of light usually shines in a particular direction leaving a demarcated area of shade at an angle equivalent to the light. So then usually if all the shadows in an area are trailing to the West, then it would be logical to guess the sun is in the East.
That rousing description of the theory of how a shadow should function didn't fit with what I was currently observing: I stood in a small clearing and all the shadows were drawn towards the center of the clearing. The canopy above was completely covered. In retrospect I really should have gotten my butt out of the clearing. I should have just kept walking and ignored this strange oddity. You see, at that moment the shadows began to move, they began to spin in fact. They went around the tree like little cyclones. Each shadow spun faster and faster, form blurring until each shadow began to rise up off the ground and spin in the air. While this was happening, a few feet in front of each tree a glowing lantern materialized. With a "pop" each shadow took form and grasped their corresponding lantern. They now looked like floating ghouls, hanging just above the ground, they wore tattered capes and shawls, the hoods drawn over there heads letting only their gleaming eyes shining.
"Voice?", I whispered, trying my best not to draw their attention, "I could use a little help, if you have any to give!" Before I heard a reply the first ghoul darted swiftly toards me. I took a few small steps backward then did a backwards somer-sault to evade the encroaching ghoul. For half a second I was impressed with my new gymnastic skills, but it was short lived as I then collided head first into a tree with a loud "CRACK". Luckily the "CRACK" was not my skull breaking, but rather a large portion of the bark being split straight off the tree. There was a knog in the back perfect for a handhold, I grasped the bark and held it aloft.
"Good, you found yourself a tool. You may use the magically imbued bark as a shield to defend yourself. They are the Po, forgotten spirits that lie waiting restlessly for waylorn travelers. Be careful, they can suck the spirits of the living. Beware of their lanterns, they will use them to confuse and misdirect you. Either exit the clearing as quickly as possible or defeat all of the Po."
The voice finished advising me and the last vestiges of light vanished from the clearing. The only glow in the darkness came from the Po's lanterns. I closed my eyes to adjust to the darkness. Just a shield to defeat all of them? I began to hyperventilate but stopped myself, if my mysterious guide believed I could do this with just a magic shield, then I would believe in myself as well. I opened my eyes, they were beginning to circle me like a spectral pack of wolves.
Two of the Po dart at me while cackling, I lunge to the right, bring the shield up to my left. One of the two sinks its shadow clowas into the bark-shield. It shrieks as it realizes it is stuck in the bark. I take a hard step backward, and spin. The Po is sent flying into one of the surrounding trees, there is another "pop"and he stays in place, now nothing more than a shadow. Sweet! One down, this might not be so bad. The Po look a little wary now that they realize that I'm not just some way-lorn traveler. Three more shadowy ghouls dart towards me with fantastic speed. I execute a spinning shield defense without thinking, crying out "KIYYAAAH!" in the process. All three lamps are extinguished and the ghouls themselves are flung into trees. "Pop", "Pop", "Pop" they go, each reverting to shadows.
Only a few more left. I decide to take the offensive by dashing forward and leaping shield out onto the next unsuspecting Po. He or It thrashes wildly, raking claws extended at my shield, he is caught just like the first one. But my guard is down fighting the Po in front of me, leaving another to strike from behind, slashing down my back. I cry out in pain into the night of the forest. Then I whip the caught Po into the one behind me and run them both into a large tree. Again two audible "Pop"s as they disintegrate into dark shadows. I look around panting, they are gone. Are they? Can they be? They are! I made it! Looking around the clearing one last time I see one of the Po's lantern's didn't extinguish itself. I walk over and pick it up, another tool to aid me on the way. I continue on.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Just Ring the Bell
The streets were dark and vacant. By 4 AM even the most hardy of party-goers had sought refuge in quieter gatherings. For August, there was a certain odd crisp chill to the air. Jason glanced down to check his phone's GPS, which by now he was fairly certain must be wrong. It had told him to take 6 right turns in a row, which would have been fine had they not all been around the same block.
Currently the screen confirmed that he had arrived at his final destination. Jason looked up only to see a set of non-descript brick apartments, cement stoops every few yards. There was no sign of, well a sign of any sort. He looked back to his phone, but now instead of a map with instructions there was a strange error message:
Error 394- It's too late to be out and about in the city, go to bed!
Then it promptly shut itself off with a beep, Jason laughed, really? cellphones that give parenting advice now? Good grief. It was a night full of strange messages, he flipped the business card out of his breast pocket that he gotten earlier in the night and checked for clues.
Friendly Armoire's
37 N Birmington
The Red door between the third and fourth stoops
Just Ring the Bell
That seemed much more informative than he remembered. Before he swore it only had the name of the establishment and the address. Jason walked down North Birmington counting stoops; one, two, three, and there it was- a little red door with a buzzer beside it. He pressed the buzzer for a good five seconds, then waited. As he waited he thought not for the first time that becoming a collector of high end furniture had been an odd hobby choice. This piece and one more would complete the living room set, but what then?
On the other side of the little red door there was a series of thumps, followed by a crash and whispered cursing. The door was opened by a man who seemed impossibly tall for the door's diminutive size. He was wearing a tailored suit and had cold grey eyes. "Your rang the bell.", more of a statement than a question.
"Yes, I mailed about looking for a specific piece, I was told to come close to four, so here I am."
The tall man squinted, "But you rang the bell?"
"The card said, 'Just ring the bell' so I did as it said"
"I will ask you just once more, so we are absolutely clear: you were the one who rang the bell and no one else?"
" Yep, that would have been me", Jason replied, slightly exasperated.
They entered a small hallway lined with candle-lit lamps. The hallway ended with a stone fireplace that was roaring and crackling. The tall-suited man stepped up to the fireplace and quietly said, "Floor three, please."
The fire itself began to rise through the ceiling, a scorched elevator door was left in its place. The interior of the lift was singular. The walls were blue stainless steel, the ceiling was covered in an acid green shag carpet. For such a high end place, the proprietor sure had interesting taste, Jason thought. They began to descend, slowly lowering the two men underground.
The blue box stopped its descent, opening its doors to a room with walls lined with massive aquarium tanks filled with exotic marine life. They walked towards the end of the room towards a cedar door that seemed utterly out of place, but honestly by now what would seem normal in this place?
"Holy...! Was that a hammer-head shark?" Jason exclaimed
"Perhaps, we recently lost track of the aquarium inventory." The tall man replied as he ushered Jason through the cedar door.
"Thank you, Anderson, that will be all for now.", came the voice from a disheveled man from behind the desk. Anderson turned to leave, "Wait one moment, Anderson. Mr DuMay, I'm sure you're a tad tired at this late hour, I know I certainly am. How does coffee sound?"
"That sounds wonderful.", Jason assented
"Two turkish brews, Anderson. Thank you" The tall man nodded than disappeared back through the cedar door.
"I understand you're looking for a particular piece Mr. DuMay, looking at our catalogue we have five options for the piece you're looking for. Ahh, Anderson that was quite expedient, I don't know what I would do without you."
Jason took the large cup of Turkish coffee and began to slurp the rich, caffeinated sludge. "Of the five options how many do you currently have in stock?"
"Good question, let's see", he flipped through a large binder full of laminated pages that could only be the catalog, "As I search I have two things I should have cleared up earlier. First, I was rude and didn't introduce myself. I am Mr. Friendly, but you may call me Charles. Second I don't deal with most customers on this floor, but I had fallen asleep and had to rush to get ready. Usually guests only get to see the more demure fourth floor. Alright, we seem to have four in stock, I am willing to part with any of these three." Mr. Charles Friendly slid the catalog across the desk to Jason with three elegant armoires circled. One was pictured as four foot, white washed. The next: six foot, antique treated, three feet of depth. The last one had brass feet, five and half feet, with a holly exterior and glazed maple interior.
"I will have to go with the last one." Jason laughed, "The brass feet make it absurdly perfect."
"Commendable choice, that piece was originally commissioned by a twelfth century Duke. I understand he cherished it greatly. And yes, the brass feet are an rare addition, I understand the Duke had an interesting sense of humor."
"I like a piece with a rich history. Now, can we talk payment options?" Jason asked
"I'm afraid so far as payment options go, well I do not accept Visa, nor Mastercard, nor cheques. I used to do only cash like those mafioso gangsters on the other side of twon, but that started bringing in a certain undesirable group of clientele. You wrote me asking if I had a more unique class of armoires. But in writing to me I deduced that one of my associates had given you my informations. They would have only done that if you they had seen you as a trustworthy young man. Now, Mr. DuMay, are you a trustworthy young man?"
"Well, I'm sitting here in the middle of the night in an office that seems a touch more fantastic than a Bond villain's lair and I'm clamly drinking rich Turkish coffee, its very good coffee by the way. What exactly did you have in mind Mr. Friendly?"
"There is a man who owns a Van Gogh that has never been seen by the public that I would very much like to have. If you were to obtain the painting in the next few days, the absurdly brass footed piece would be yours."
"Fair enough." Jason said shaking Charles Friendly's hand.
....
That is how Jason DuMay came to be standing on a rooftop on 84th st. two nights later. He held a grappling hook in his right hand, the attached rope in his left. He hefted the grappling hook and swung it round and round, releasing at the top of the arc. The three pronged metal hook lazily drifted over the street, alnding with a dull, metallic "clank" on the opposing roof. Jason pulled the rope taut and secured his end. "Here's to Van Gogh and high end furniture!", Jason muttered before sliding through the night.
Currently the screen confirmed that he had arrived at his final destination. Jason looked up only to see a set of non-descript brick apartments, cement stoops every few yards. There was no sign of, well a sign of any sort. He looked back to his phone, but now instead of a map with instructions there was a strange error message:
Error 394- It's too late to be out and about in the city, go to bed!
Then it promptly shut itself off with a beep, Jason laughed, really? cellphones that give parenting advice now? Good grief. It was a night full of strange messages, he flipped the business card out of his breast pocket that he gotten earlier in the night and checked for clues.
Friendly Armoire's
37 N Birmington
The Red door between the third and fourth stoops
Just Ring the Bell
That seemed much more informative than he remembered. Before he swore it only had the name of the establishment and the address. Jason walked down North Birmington counting stoops; one, two, three, and there it was- a little red door with a buzzer beside it. He pressed the buzzer for a good five seconds, then waited. As he waited he thought not for the first time that becoming a collector of high end furniture had been an odd hobby choice. This piece and one more would complete the living room set, but what then?
On the other side of the little red door there was a series of thumps, followed by a crash and whispered cursing. The door was opened by a man who seemed impossibly tall for the door's diminutive size. He was wearing a tailored suit and had cold grey eyes. "Your rang the bell.", more of a statement than a question.
"Yes, I mailed about looking for a specific piece, I was told to come close to four, so here I am."
The tall man squinted, "But you rang the bell?"
"The card said, 'Just ring the bell' so I did as it said"
"I will ask you just once more, so we are absolutely clear: you were the one who rang the bell and no one else?"
" Yep, that would have been me", Jason replied, slightly exasperated.
They entered a small hallway lined with candle-lit lamps. The hallway ended with a stone fireplace that was roaring and crackling. The tall-suited man stepped up to the fireplace and quietly said, "Floor three, please."
The fire itself began to rise through the ceiling, a scorched elevator door was left in its place. The interior of the lift was singular. The walls were blue stainless steel, the ceiling was covered in an acid green shag carpet. For such a high end place, the proprietor sure had interesting taste, Jason thought. They began to descend, slowly lowering the two men underground.
The blue box stopped its descent, opening its doors to a room with walls lined with massive aquarium tanks filled with exotic marine life. They walked towards the end of the room towards a cedar door that seemed utterly out of place, but honestly by now what would seem normal in this place?
"Holy...! Was that a hammer-head shark?" Jason exclaimed
"Perhaps, we recently lost track of the aquarium inventory." The tall man replied as he ushered Jason through the cedar door.
"Thank you, Anderson, that will be all for now.", came the voice from a disheveled man from behind the desk. Anderson turned to leave, "Wait one moment, Anderson. Mr DuMay, I'm sure you're a tad tired at this late hour, I know I certainly am. How does coffee sound?"
"That sounds wonderful.", Jason assented
"Two turkish brews, Anderson. Thank you" The tall man nodded than disappeared back through the cedar door.
"I understand you're looking for a particular piece Mr. DuMay, looking at our catalogue we have five options for the piece you're looking for. Ahh, Anderson that was quite expedient, I don't know what I would do without you."
Jason took the large cup of Turkish coffee and began to slurp the rich, caffeinated sludge. "Of the five options how many do you currently have in stock?"
"Good question, let's see", he flipped through a large binder full of laminated pages that could only be the catalog, "As I search I have two things I should have cleared up earlier. First, I was rude and didn't introduce myself. I am Mr. Friendly, but you may call me Charles. Second I don't deal with most customers on this floor, but I had fallen asleep and had to rush to get ready. Usually guests only get to see the more demure fourth floor. Alright, we seem to have four in stock, I am willing to part with any of these three." Mr. Charles Friendly slid the catalog across the desk to Jason with three elegant armoires circled. One was pictured as four foot, white washed. The next: six foot, antique treated, three feet of depth. The last one had brass feet, five and half feet, with a holly exterior and glazed maple interior.
"I will have to go with the last one." Jason laughed, "The brass feet make it absurdly perfect."
"Commendable choice, that piece was originally commissioned by a twelfth century Duke. I understand he cherished it greatly. And yes, the brass feet are an rare addition, I understand the Duke had an interesting sense of humor."
"I like a piece with a rich history. Now, can we talk payment options?" Jason asked
"I'm afraid so far as payment options go, well I do not accept Visa, nor Mastercard, nor cheques. I used to do only cash like those mafioso gangsters on the other side of twon, but that started bringing in a certain undesirable group of clientele. You wrote me asking if I had a more unique class of armoires. But in writing to me I deduced that one of my associates had given you my informations. They would have only done that if you they had seen you as a trustworthy young man. Now, Mr. DuMay, are you a trustworthy young man?"
"Well, I'm sitting here in the middle of the night in an office that seems a touch more fantastic than a Bond villain's lair and I'm clamly drinking rich Turkish coffee, its very good coffee by the way. What exactly did you have in mind Mr. Friendly?"
"There is a man who owns a Van Gogh that has never been seen by the public that I would very much like to have. If you were to obtain the painting in the next few days, the absurdly brass footed piece would be yours."
"Fair enough." Jason said shaking Charles Friendly's hand.
....
That is how Jason DuMay came to be standing on a rooftop on 84th st. two nights later. He held a grappling hook in his right hand, the attached rope in his left. He hefted the grappling hook and swung it round and round, releasing at the top of the arc. The three pronged metal hook lazily drifted over the street, alnding with a dull, metallic "clank" on the opposing roof. Jason pulled the rope taut and secured his end. "Here's to Van Gogh and high end furniture!", Jason muttered before sliding through the night.
Monday, April 9, 2012
Into the Tall Grass
Around here, when you're young, and when I say young I mean real young, they say, "Don't go into the tall grass. It's too dangerous. Stay in town." For a long time you heed the advice. Every day you go to school, learn basic math, history, science, and literature, then come home again. Some days you walk to the local library or visit the professor in town, but you never leave the town. Leaving town would mean entering the tall grass and why would you do something so inherently dangerous? But time passes and curiosity tugs at the back of your mind. Can the tall grass really be so bad? You've seen adults leave to visit other towns, they always come back in one piece. In fact they tend to return with an extra twinkle in their eyes, as if they saw something crazy or wonderful. The tug of curiosity grows stronger. Its a conflict: to see what lies within and beyond the tall grass would be exciting, at the same time it would be in violation of everything they've always told you.
One day the tug of curiosity simply becomes irresistible. You wake up ready to see what lies beyond. You pack your knapsack with things you might need: a sandwich, bug spray, a flashlight, and a book. You slip on your running shoes and throw on a wind-breaker. Out the door you go to seek adventure. You approach the edge of town, the sun peeking into the sky. For a moment you close your eyes, count to five and push all fear away, and you step into the tall grass.
"Ha!", You think triumphantly, "This isn't dangerous at all! Its just a bunch of grass!" Right then is when the monster attacks. You cry out, frozen in place. What to do? You can't move, can't do anything and with each second the monster draws nearer. As luck would have it the monster is attacked by another monster of near equal size. So now the world is full of monsters? Well at least you're not in peril anymore. You hear a familiar voice saying, "Its about time you ventured out here, we were all beginning to wonder if you were going to. Are you alright then? Can you run? If so meet me back at my lab. Go!"
Without thinking, almost without breathing, you turn around and sprint. Your legs pump with strength you didn't know your little body had. Through the glass double doors of the lab you burst, collapsing into the red worn easy chair that the professor often reclines in while smoking his pipe. You pant and pant, partially animated and partially terrified of the new revelations in your life. Monsters! They weren't lying, the tall grass is dangerous, but what about the things the professor said? Almost on cue the professor walks into the lab, whistling, the second monster that resembles a large over-sized dog with fiery orange fur is in tow.
"Well, that was thrilling, now wasn't it?", He says amiably, "I do hope you're not reeling too bad ( You are in fact a bit frozen in awe of the fiery dog curled up at your feet, but you say nothing) a little shock is good now and then. As you've probably surmised by now, our world is inhabited not just by us and animals, but also by a great range of speacies of monsters. These monsters may have strange appearances but we live in harmony with them: which is good because many of them have unimaginable powers. You might be wondering 'why keep this secret from you? Why do we forbid entry into the tall grass?' It is dually for your protection and also a challenge. The world is a formidable and dangerous place before you're ready, before you've chosen your companion for your travel's."
You gasp, unsure if your intuition is correct. If so, this day is only getting more thrilling by by the minute.
The professor laughes, "From the look on your face, you've guessed what comes next. Its really the best part. I have a few young monsters that I've been raising as I waited for you to venture out. Each one wields a different array of powers as well as quite the different personality. Your choice, whether you mean it to or not, will reflect your true spirit. Treat your companion well and they will do the same for you. I'll leave you to make your decision."
He leaves and then its just you and three small be distinctly different creatures, and the fiery beast who is now snoring. Each of the three look cute and strong in their own way. You see potential in them, you think perhaps they're looking back at you thinking similar thoughts. Again, you're scared, but at the same time so alive with anticipations. You think, then ponder, then chose. And that's when your adventure truly begins.
One day the tug of curiosity simply becomes irresistible. You wake up ready to see what lies beyond. You pack your knapsack with things you might need: a sandwich, bug spray, a flashlight, and a book. You slip on your running shoes and throw on a wind-breaker. Out the door you go to seek adventure. You approach the edge of town, the sun peeking into the sky. For a moment you close your eyes, count to five and push all fear away, and you step into the tall grass.
"Ha!", You think triumphantly, "This isn't dangerous at all! Its just a bunch of grass!" Right then is when the monster attacks. You cry out, frozen in place. What to do? You can't move, can't do anything and with each second the monster draws nearer. As luck would have it the monster is attacked by another monster of near equal size. So now the world is full of monsters? Well at least you're not in peril anymore. You hear a familiar voice saying, "Its about time you ventured out here, we were all beginning to wonder if you were going to. Are you alright then? Can you run? If so meet me back at my lab. Go!"
Without thinking, almost without breathing, you turn around and sprint. Your legs pump with strength you didn't know your little body had. Through the glass double doors of the lab you burst, collapsing into the red worn easy chair that the professor often reclines in while smoking his pipe. You pant and pant, partially animated and partially terrified of the new revelations in your life. Monsters! They weren't lying, the tall grass is dangerous, but what about the things the professor said? Almost on cue the professor walks into the lab, whistling, the second monster that resembles a large over-sized dog with fiery orange fur is in tow.
"Well, that was thrilling, now wasn't it?", He says amiably, "I do hope you're not reeling too bad ( You are in fact a bit frozen in awe of the fiery dog curled up at your feet, but you say nothing) a little shock is good now and then. As you've probably surmised by now, our world is inhabited not just by us and animals, but also by a great range of speacies of monsters. These monsters may have strange appearances but we live in harmony with them: which is good because many of them have unimaginable powers. You might be wondering 'why keep this secret from you? Why do we forbid entry into the tall grass?' It is dually for your protection and also a challenge. The world is a formidable and dangerous place before you're ready, before you've chosen your companion for your travel's."
You gasp, unsure if your intuition is correct. If so, this day is only getting more thrilling by by the minute.
The professor laughes, "From the look on your face, you've guessed what comes next. Its really the best part. I have a few young monsters that I've been raising as I waited for you to venture out. Each one wields a different array of powers as well as quite the different personality. Your choice, whether you mean it to or not, will reflect your true spirit. Treat your companion well and they will do the same for you. I'll leave you to make your decision."
He leaves and then its just you and three small be distinctly different creatures, and the fiery beast who is now snoring. Each of the three look cute and strong in their own way. You see potential in them, you think perhaps they're looking back at you thinking similar thoughts. Again, you're scared, but at the same time so alive with anticipations. You think, then ponder, then chose. And that's when your adventure truly begins.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
The New Year
It’s a new year once again. I think the last one was good
overall, insomuch as 52 weeks can be graded as a whole. Yes, there were high
points and low, low points, but overall I think it was a pretty snazzy year. I
got to see the Northwest portion of the United States which were dazzling in
nature and in the cities. I wrote more than ever before; about double my usual
output on this blog. I think I've come closer to finding my voice and a
direction with which to take this blog. I'm coming closer to finishing my
college career and that leaves me with a bunch of emotions all bundled up, both
good and bad. There were concerts, dancing, parties, and much more.
Here's to ice cream and pie, to cold beer, to finding places
you've never seen. Here's to fresh snow, to ice that sparkles on tree branches,
to sledding on steep hills or backyards on trash-can lids. Here's to good
friends and family, to warm clothes and spiffy shoes. Here's to running in the
dark, to star-tipping, to being completely and utterly ridiculous. Here's to
good books, to staying up way too late reading, to telling stories until our
tongues get tired from talking. Here's to trying to be who we want to be, to
accepting who we already are, to being ready for anything. Here's to another
year of joys, of challenges, of trials and tribulations.
LCD Soundsystem
Tribulations
Thanks everyone who has been reading, it means a lot.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Tom Thumb
Staring into a deep well Tom stood sucking thoughtfully at his thumb. He pondered how far it was to the bottom, he wondered if there was a bottom. If there was in fact a bottom, were there things living down there? fishes? Mole men? Tom very badly wanted there to be something special about the old well so he would have a good story to tell his friend Stephen on Monday at school.
Tom decided the well needed further investigation so off he wandered home in search of supplies. he removed his thumb from his mouth since he knew his mother didn't approve and would be quite cross with him if she saw. As he opened the door his mother greeted him from the kitchen where she was preparing the evening's supper. Tom shouted a "Hullo!" and explained he was just popping in, but would be back for dinner. From his room Tom filled his backpack with objects from all corners, odds and ends from here and there until he was satisfied that he was prepared for anything and then he set out again for the well.
Tom was a very adventurous and enterprising ten-year-old, but his mother really had no idea. She assumed her son had an over-active imagination and he liked to play outside when he wasn't drawing fantastical maps in his room. On the one hand these things were perfectly true, but it was also perfectly true that Tom had accomplished more in terms of exploration than some adults had twice and three times his age.
As Tom re-approached the well he extracted a few of the items from his backpack. these items included a length of durable rope, a pair of gloves with grips and light with an attached headband. Firtst Tom secured the rope to the well's foundation using a Sailor's knot. then he slipped the headband light over his forehead and clicked it on. And finally the gloves were slipped on and the backpack was slipped on for later.
Grabbing the rope with both gloved hands Tom climbed over the well's ledge and began to rappel himself into the depths. Down, down, down, he went slowly illuminating the well with his light. Tom expected to find water soon, yet the water never came. Tom paused to ponder, with gloved thumb in mouth, how much further the well would go; the rope was running out of slack.
Tom cast his light straight down and found the bottom to be quite close, he dropped from the rope. He found himself not in a simple chamber, but in the beginning of a labyrinth. Tunnels spread out in 5 directions, each seemed to go for a fairly decent distance without end. Tom looked at his watch to find it was nearing supper time, he would have to come back to explore the maze.
Tom decided the well needed further investigation so off he wandered home in search of supplies. he removed his thumb from his mouth since he knew his mother didn't approve and would be quite cross with him if she saw. As he opened the door his mother greeted him from the kitchen where she was preparing the evening's supper. Tom shouted a "Hullo!" and explained he was just popping in, but would be back for dinner. From his room Tom filled his backpack with objects from all corners, odds and ends from here and there until he was satisfied that he was prepared for anything and then he set out again for the well.
Tom was a very adventurous and enterprising ten-year-old, but his mother really had no idea. She assumed her son had an over-active imagination and he liked to play outside when he wasn't drawing fantastical maps in his room. On the one hand these things were perfectly true, but it was also perfectly true that Tom had accomplished more in terms of exploration than some adults had twice and three times his age.
As Tom re-approached the well he extracted a few of the items from his backpack. these items included a length of durable rope, a pair of gloves with grips and light with an attached headband. Firtst Tom secured the rope to the well's foundation using a Sailor's knot. then he slipped the headband light over his forehead and clicked it on. And finally the gloves were slipped on and the backpack was slipped on for later.
Grabbing the rope with both gloved hands Tom climbed over the well's ledge and began to rappel himself into the depths. Down, down, down, he went slowly illuminating the well with his light. Tom expected to find water soon, yet the water never came. Tom paused to ponder, with gloved thumb in mouth, how much further the well would go; the rope was running out of slack.
Tom cast his light straight down and found the bottom to be quite close, he dropped from the rope. He found himself not in a simple chamber, but in the beginning of a labyrinth. Tunnels spread out in 5 directions, each seemed to go for a fairly decent distance without end. Tom looked at his watch to find it was nearing supper time, he would have to come back to explore the maze.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
New LC
Life is boring, yet excitement can be found. Life is tough, but if you keep persevering things will get easier. Time moves on, light some fire crackers, have some adventures. Don't submit to boredom. Don't submit to sadness. What am I talking about? I don't know, But have some fun, please.
New Los Campesinos
There are Listed Buildings
Los Campesinos
99
New Los Campesinos
There are Listed Buildings
Los Campesinos
99
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