Matthew Brady War Photographer

The following is a story of how Matthew Brady took pictures during the Civil War.

He is acclaimed of having taken hundreds of photographs of various combat actions during the Civil War. However it is not a well-known fact to most people that Matthew Brady was nearsighted.

So therefore the following is a short episode in the first major battle of the Civil War known as Bull Run.

O'Sullivan unloaded the camera at a vantage point below the smoke, close enough to a strain for washing, yet facing up the hill looking toward a stone house. Brady could hardly believe his dim eyes: there must have been 400 dead bodies lying up this long slope in front of him. With the sound of bullets whining and smacking nearby, O'Sullivan began the process of sensitizing the plates. In this heat, the coating, exposing, and developing would have to be completed within 10 minutes.

Brady looked nervously up the hill as his assistant washed the plate in the collodion solution, a mixture of guncotton and sulfuric ether and alcohol. When the plate flowed with collodion, O'Sullivan laid on the chemical excitants-- bromide and iodide up potassium-and, when that turned properly tacky, he lifted it into a tub containing nitrate of silver and iodized water. It remained in the darkness inside the wagon for four minutes. O'Sullivan then lifted it out, he drained the plate, and placed it in the lightproof folder. He then carried it dripping, to the camera.

Brady meanwhile ducked his head under and looked; he could make out forms on the ground, but little else. He walked forward to make certain they were dead rebels; at least the body in the foreground was, and the others could be called that as well. The Northern public, he was sure was not ready for pictures of Union soldiers that were dead.

O'Sullivan had the camera loaded. He tried to take his time and focus it properly. The nearsighted Brady could not do this in the proper way. O'Sullivan moved the camera slightly to get the the form in the foreground and focus properly, and grunted while he did this. Brady lifted the lens cap, counted to thirty, and ended the exposure. O'Sullivan pulled out the holder, raced back into the wagon and began to delicate business of dipping it into the developer of acids and soda. In two minutes, he ran out to the stream and held the plate underwater. Brady prayed there would be no mud to stick to the still gummy surface.

O'Sullivan just look at it as an image began to appear. The dead rebel in the foreground would be frozen in history as he was frozen in death. Brady could feel his heart pounding as a science so few now appreciated passed a milestone. "Photographed by Brady" of a nation at war. He told O'Sullivan to take the plate inside the wagon quickly and to bring out the stereo camera. The assistant heft to plate gleefully, saw his employer's warning frown, and carried his developed image inside. Brady was glad he had chosen the O'Sullivan, who followed orders and never so much is breathed on the sensitive plates.

The young Irishman was taking the next Brady photograph of the dead bodies when he suddenly let out a cry and dropped the little camera. Brady rushed over and picked up the little instrument, which fortunately had landed on a cast-off blanket; aside smearing of blood over one of the lenses, it appeared to be unbroken.

O'Sullivan was standing at his left hand, which was dripping blood. Both of them were apparently in the line of enemy musket fire. They ran as quickly as possible into the wagon, which however offered very little cover. Brady grabbed the reins while O'Sullivan fashioned a makeshift tourniquet out of a lenscloth. And only moments they were back on the road headed back towards Centerville.



It is a well-known fact that Matthew Brady did cover and photograph the first battle of Bull Run. This particular story can be found in Roy Meredith's 1976 book, The World of Matthew Brady, page 7. It covers this particular incident of this particular day at Bull Run.

Premise

Take something from a book or an article that you have read and re-write it into your form.
Give book/author recognition.

Premise: god box

This one is a little more free form. You must write a story in any style you want, the title must be "god box" and the title must be used as the theme of the story.

god box: Chapter 1 - Boston

Obviously, I'm not writting a chapter book on this story. However, I reserve the right to do so later in life. I like where this is going, but I felt like to develop the story in the right mannor would take too long in this format. Hence, Chapter 1:

"What do you mean you've seen it?" asked Mari.

"I'm telling you, it's there, " responded Britton.

Mari wondered if it could be true. He had heard of it, but no one had actually seen it and survived. All those who had seen it had died of some unatrual cause immediately, or soon after and a curse had followed them affecting everyone they had been in contact with. But Britton said he had seen it over a week ago. He could be wrong.

"It's not possible. You would be dead. All those who came before you had died." Mari staired at Britton with those piercing green eyes. Those eyes had seen so much history, both read and experienced. Mari was a professor at Boston University School of Theology. Britton was a brilliant research student from Ireland.

Most history referred to it as "The Ark of the Covenant", but a folklore that was passed down Britton's family past (a decendant of the actient Gaelic family name of O Duhbda). His father swore by it, his father's father swore by it. But there was a problem. There was only one known written instance. The reference was to something called the "god box", not the Ark of the Covenant. Most had written it off as legend only. But not Britton. And now not Mari.

"It was as my father told me. Solid black as if it were made of obsidian. It had two deteriated pertrusions in the upper outside corners, which could be the hooks that rest upon the shafts that was used to carry it."

Mari stared in disbelief. As if some dream that he had been thrust into, he could not tell if he were awake or dreaming.

"And you found it where again?" Mari asked.

"In the church, in Boston. The Trinity Church in the Back Bay. It must have been Sir Thomason who had brought it over in 1886 from Ireland. The original church burned down in the Great Boston Fire of 1872."

Mari just stared. "How is it you are alive?'

"I don't know, but it was all so accidental. But I did look inside. There are a few other things in there, things that aren't documented. A rod is in there, a few stone tablets. But there's also several scrolls. Must be other accounts." Britton was bubbling with excitement. Mari could see the fluster and tried to calm him.

"Britton, it could be a fake. I mean, it would just be so odd that the Ark of the Coventant would be brought here by the Knights Templar when all the rest of the world would put it in exotic places like Ethiopia, France and Germany."

"But that's the beauty of it, Mari. Think about it; the rest of the world is looking everywhere else. No one is the wiser."

"Professor Scott will be looking. He is always on our heals, it would seem. He really apalls me. His sole purpose is to seek fame and money. I just pray to God that we find it before he does. Or hell on earth may be our payment for failure."

Britton began to describe the placement of the god box. It was in a cellar, which can only be accessed from behind the altar. A hidden dorr in the floor was partially obscured by the altar, which Britton had to move to gain full access.

What Britton and Mari didn't realize just yet is that Britton was special. He wasn't only the descendant of the spinners of the lore, but also of a long line of protectors of the Ark. This family blood line was blessed by God.

That would soon come in handy.

God Box

I was walking down Hyman Avenue and just absent mindedly window shopping. I wasn't looking for anything in particular, just shopping, rather just looking.

My thoughts were actually back home in Texas. I was missing the opportunities that I had to spend the weekends with the kids. Not that I did that a whole lot but more than I get to from here.

Then all of a sudden something caught my eye. I wasn't sure just what it was, I stopped. I turned back and looked once again in the window that I had just passed by. What was it? Nothing stood out as I stood there staring in the window. What had caught my eye?

I turned to walk away, I took a few steps and once again that nagging feeling...that something that says, come back. Once again I stepped back in front of that same window and just stood there looking in.

Evidently the young clerk (and she was a cutie) noticed me. She stepped over to the door and asked me if she could help me in anyway.
"I'm not sure." I replied.
"Why don't you come inside and take a look around?" she ask. I just stood there for a moment are so, thinking. What is it that I'm seeing without being able to see it? This is not right, I'm confused. So after an awkward moment of silence, I looked at the young clerk and said "Okay."

The name of the place was The Talisman. Curious type of place, very much what you'd expect it to be. Lots of native Indian type stuff all over the place. Various goo gaos, different whatyamacallits, a real tourist trap type of a store.
I walked back outside after a few minutes of looking around. I was headed to the J-Bar to get my self some of the best hot wings in town. I made it almost to the corner of the block. Then I found myself back in front of the store once again. This is ridiculous I thought.
"What is it? This is driving me crazy." I said to myself.
Once again I stood looking in at the window. It was there all the time I just could not see it for looking at it.

I walked back inside and stepped over to the window, I closed my eyes and allowed my hand to move forward to the display that was there. It touched a small square box. The designs on it were so perfectly placed, so delicately done, so intriscately worked. The box was a work of art within itself. It seemed almost transluent yet at the same time as solid as a peice of crystal. I only wish that I had the proper words to describe it. They alude me.
I carried the box to the checkout counter and ask the gentleman there where the young lady was that had helped me earlier.
He looked at me strangely and then he asked me, "What young lady?"
"The dark haired young lady, she was maybe twenty-one are a little more. Very pretty. Maybe five foot eight."
"Did you catch her name?" he ask me. He still looked at me as if I weren't for real.

Then he looked down at what I held in my hand and after a few seconds a tear came to his eyes. "The God Box!" was all that he said as he pointed at my hand and then he really broke down.

I stood there in mute silence, I had no idea as to what I should say are ask. If anything.
After a couple of minutes he said, "I'm sorry. First of all there is no young lady that works here. There was a young lady, that started this store back, oh, fifty years ago. She just disappeared one day. Knowbody's seen her are heard from her since that day. That box in your hand has not been touched by anyone except me and then only to clean and dust it. She left a note however and it is over here for anyone to read and I think that you had better read it."

It said;
"I must go now, to a better place and time. There will be a man come by someday and he will pick up the box that I left in the window. He will not be able to walk away from it. He will have been a man who knew how god works. He will have only forgotten. The God Box will guide him to me and I shall respond. Do not sell him the box but rather give him the box. He will know what to do with it."

"That lady was my mother." he said. "She loved you and you never even knew it. Until today, nobody has seen her"
"What was her name?" I ask.
"I don't think that that matter's anymore. You have the box, treasure it with all of your being and always remember that you have been loved. You'll figure out who she was in due time." he turned and walked to the back of the store.

I turned and walked out of that store. A day does not go by but that I think about that young lady. I hold that box in my hands and give thanks unto God.

God Box

The Unseen Office

You've done it numerous times and probably never even given this a thought.

What is it that you've done?

You walk into a nice, beautiful hotel lobby...there's marble floors and great big leather chairs all around. Beautiful painting hanging on the walls, luxurious drapes hanging on the walls. Walls of beautiful dark woods with tables of various kinds setting in just the perfect spot. Then of course there's the desk clerk, just waiting to make you feel good about life.

Know what I mean?

Now, think of this...

There is (all be it nice) a warn carpet, warn from all the hundreds of people that have stood and walked across it. There's the ever present deposit boxes in the corner, ready for the next person to come on duty or get off, what ever be the case. There on the wall is where you can hang your coat or sweater or whatever pleases you. Then there's the always present door (or doors) that lead into the various other offices.

This is the desk behind the front desk, the front office, where your working computer sets at the ready. The ever present phone on the desk, the box of tissues, the computer monitor, the time clock, the clip boards of various types. Oh, yes there is a calender hanging on the wall also. Usually there is a printer or copier of some type also, you must always be able to make copies.

Shelves that have the books on how and what to do when something goes wrong. the ever present OSHA manuals (can not operate without them). Government, knows all about everything and anything at anytime...just ask them. Almost forgot, there usually is a mirror(somewhere close) to make sure you know how to smile and look good.

Oh, don't forget the office chair and the trash can, absolute must. The walls here are not as pretty as the ones out front in the main lobby. They are normally an off color of white or beige. They usually have some type of awards hanging instead of nice paintings. Notes, list, schedules, anything but nice relaxing pictures.

So, next time remember...that the person that greets you does NOT work in the beauty that you see in that lobby. It very rarely ever effects that person in anyway. His or her reality is very much removed from yours, at that particular time and place.

The Room

Describe an existing room. No action is required, nor story plot. This is an exercise in description. No length requirements.

Command and Conquer

The light rolls in from behind me. Whites glow with an erie moon blue.

From my strategic position I can spy enemies approaching. From this vantage point I can ascertain their threat level and defend my position accordingly. My front is guarded and my rear is unapproachable.

My communication device provides a link to the outside world through several different mediums. From this point I can also command many others. If needed I can also verbally call backups from close by camps.

My stallion of metal, plastic and leather provides long comfortable days from my command post. This is the second of such steeds I have had in my four years here.

I can see the sun light, however, I cannot see the sun directly from my position. Everything can be lit by an artificial sun if necessary.

Snow white surfaces provide space for battle plans to be drawn. Cobalt blues, dirt browns, pure orange adorn the battlefield with sophisticated attack sequences marred by incoherent scribble here and there. Its a direct transfer from my brain to the language of symbols and letters that control flow, content and delivery. They describe in themselves entire ecosystems that are available for defense or attack. They will serve me well in the coming months.

Commanders and soldiers have graced these halls of mine. Countless strategic missions have been conceived and delivered upon from this very command post. Few have come, many have parished, staining the walls with memories both verbal and visible. Families have passed through this door carrying with them hopes and dreams of a new future. Many have come with questions, some leave satisfied.

Not In History

You must write a story about a lost tribe from the perspective of the last male of the tribe. The tribe is somewhere in South America and existed 5000 years before man was thought to be in the area. Describe in some detail what has caused the downfall.

The Last Man

I told them that it was no good for our people. I told them that the ritual was flawed beyond reason. But the elders all pushed it on the new men. Boys who were influenced by the fanciful stories and tales that the elders spun with their twisted tongues.



Rite of Passage they called it. Rite to die I called it. I denied the D'Marq. When it was my time I passed on it ritualistic game. It was a game, after all. A game that takes lives.



The Olgen was built centuries ago by our father's father's grandfathers. In it they placed a thousand stinging Guiders. Each with enough poison to kill every man in the entire community. Every boy wanting to marry, at that time when the gods of wind and rain claimed, the boy would place his entire arm in the Olgen. He had to leave it there until the Ferth, the oldest and wisest man in the community, declared it was time to remove it.



Without the ritual you could not marry. You could not gather with a woman. You could not hunt with the other men. You were an outcast. That is was what I had become. But I knew better.



I had rejected the ritual after thirteen years. My father was angered with me. He removed me from the dwelling. He told my siblings to turn to the sun when in my presence, as a replacement of his son. No one in the community would sit with me. I was alone.



I spent what should have been my prime in shame. I had never had the enjoyment of worshiping with a woman. I lived in a small hut I built next to the pigs. The stench was enough to almost knock you down. But it was the place where I could retrieve scraps of flesh left from slaughterings. I learned to live on my own.



The years went by and more and more boys were dying during D'Marq. The passing of time saw new Ferth who were seeing signs from the gods that they were not happy with the crop of new men into the community. They made the boys stay longer and longer each time. As time passed more and more boys died. Men were less plentiful than before.



Then Ternq became the Ferth. I believe he sought more power than what the gods were willing to give him. He was forcing boys to stay twice as long and most of the boys going through D'Marq were perishing. He blamed it on the community. He would give long speeches on how we have failed him, and how we have failed the gods. The women who had birthed the recent boys were beaten. They were cast from the community. Then the Great Purging happened.



The last ten men of the community were out hunting. They had been out for many days as the dry season, which had also been seen as a plague, had ravaged our food stores. Many boys had died in the last months from starvation. The Ferth had said to feed them last because they are strong and would survive. I don't think he could have ever been more wrong. Starvation ripped through the community like a dragon.



I was told by the last survivor that they had pushed the great bulls to a canyon, but the beasts had turned the wrong way. They backed them into a dead end and instead of the bulls submitting, they had turned and charged the hunters like a torrent disintegrating a rock face. Only one survived the attack, but not for long. Just long enough to tell the me of the tragedy. The Ferth was distraught.



Soon I became the most popular man in the community. The Firth was very old, too old to plant the seed of life.



But now I am ill. I have been stricken by a disease that is making me cough up blood. This disease usually only takes about 30 moons before it becomes fatal. The women of the community have lost faith in the Ferth, and I am now revered as a god. I am the one who denied, but now I am now being denied life and child and for it the community will end.



I do not think I will last long. Soon I too will die, the last man. I will not know my son, my daughter will not exist. Lest you heed these warnings the same fate will befall you as well. Be not a blind subject to a practice for the benefit of the people without thought of what is right and wrong. Do not blindly sacrifice your sons, and therefore your legacy or even your existance, on the continence of one man, especially when that man is enveloped in power and praise and not in justice. Put God before man, not man before God.

Glass Slipper

Just as the prince was turning to go, Cinderella broke free from her imprisonment. In a panic, her step-mother feigned illness and fell against the servant who held the glass slipper. The slipper fell to the ground and shattered. The prince felt a twinge of recognition in Cinderella, but without the slipper, he would never be certain. Noting the disappointment in his face, Cinderella drew near so that he could plainly see her. “It is I,” she said, “Do you not recognize me?” The prince only looked at her searchingly, but did not answer. “Perhaps this will clear your doubts,” she said, as she took the other slipper from her apron pocket. His demeanor brightened as he took the shoe from her hand and knelt to slip it onto her dainty foot. As he did this, one of the step sisters pushed him. He lunged forward and reached out to steady himself. His hands hit the ground with a crushing blow and the remaining slipper broke into shards, slicing and tearing his flesh. His servants rushed to his aid and swept him away to the palace for medical care. Cinderella never beheld his face again.

By Courtney

The Predator

The days seem endless now. I watch my people dying and I realize that I am helpless to stop it. Those who don't die from the Invisible Predator fall victim to starvation. All of our hunters have finally succumbed, and there is no one left to provide food for us. No one to protect us.



I was always left behind, considered to be the weakest. Funny that I would be the last man standing. The only reason I can think of is that I was not taken out and exposed to the Predator's wrath. We still don't know where he comes from, or how his poison enters the body, but every few days another member of the tribe begins to deteriorate. It is usually the ones taking care of the dying that become sick, but we have also lost the children. The poor children.



I don't know how, but I am going to beat this Predator. I have never been much use with the weapons that the tribe create, but they are of no use against an enemy that you can't see anyway. What I need is to find out how he is killing us. Then maybe I can fight back. I have studied the bodies of our dead for years. Being the weakest, my only use was disposing of the bodies of the strong. I spent much of that time examining mortal wounds that the hunters suffered. I have spent countless days dissecting the bodies of the old who died for no apparent reason. After all of that study, I have gained a pretty deep knowledge of the body.



But now the bodies are different. The insides are no longer colorful and beautiful. No, now everything is dark and shriveled. The Predator seems to be killing us by rotting our bodies. I have never seen anything like this. One of the tribe dogs began to show the signs of the Predator two days ago. I was going to put him down to examine him, but when I took him out in the wilderness where I work, I noticed the dog eating a bush that I had never noticed before. I have never seen the tribe dogs eat plants before. For some reason I decided to watch him for a while to figure out why he was acting this way. Amazingly he didn't die. This death that takes us in a matter of days seemed to be stopped in that dog. I decided that if the animals could beat the Predator, then so could we.



I went out and gathered the plant's leaves and took them to the caretakers. They didn't want to listen to me. But I would show them. I sat with the dying. That is where the Predator always seems to strike. I sat there for days. Finally I began to feel it. The Predator had come. I never saw him, I didn't even feel him until the coughing started. Now was the time. As the last man in my tribe, I would stop the Predator and save my people. I ate the leaves. After a short time, I was convinced that I was right. All of the pain stopped. I felt great. The others saw what was happening too. They all ate the leaves that I had gathered. We were celebrating an end to the Predator's reign.



Suddenly I began to feel very odd. My vision became blurred, and I began to see two of everything. I turned to go to my wigwam when I saw it. The dog lie dead at the edge of the forest. Scavengers that had began to tear down its body lay dead all around it. As I turned back to my people, my legs folded under me. I lost the use of my limbs. I could see that the others were the same. As my vision grew dim, the horrible truth flooded my mind. I was never meant to save my people. In beating the Predator, I poisoned my own tribe. We were doomed to the same fate either way. I had become the Predator. My pride killed my people.

Rapunzel

From the original Grimm's tale found here:

she let the hair down. The king's son ascended, but instead of finding
his dearest Rapunzel, he found the enchantress, who gazed at him with wicked and
venomous looks. "Aha," she cried mockingly,"you would fetch your dearest, but
the beautiful bird sits no longer singing in the nest. The cat has got it,
and will scratchout your eyes as well. Rapunzel is lost to you. You
will never seeher again." The king's son was beside himself with pain, and
in his despair he leapt down from the tower. He escaped with his life,but
the thorns into which he fell pierced his eyes.

Alternate Ending:

But then a nymph fluttered by the his ear and whispered this message: "The forest weeps for you, my Lord. Please follow my song and I shall lead you to refuge and recovery. But your heart must be pure!"

The king's son followed the enchanting song of the nymph though it was not audible to most. The loss of his sight had caused his other senses to become more potent. The nymph led on for days through the woods trying desperately to keep the young boy from harm.

Three days later, parched and starving, the young boy arrived at the desired destination of the nymph. The nymph no longer sang, but again encroached the boy's ear.

"Now that you have paid the price, you have lost your sight. You must rely on your other senses to find your true path, or let the path find you, " the nymph spoke.

"But what am I to do next? These riddles vex me! I beg of you, please lead me further!"

But the nymph was gone, vanished from the boy. The boy's heart sank. He had lost everything and now following this nymph had led him to an unknown place. The boy pittied himself and considered himself as good as deceased.

That evening the boy awoke , drowsey from a slumber, to a familure scent. The smell curled around him, wrapping him in a feeling of home. As the scent permiated his nostriles he came to his senses.

Rapunzel was walking down the path, gathering fruits and berries for her dinner.

The boy opened his mouth, dry and cracked, and tried to call to her. In his head it rolled out, "Rapunzel! Rapunzel!" But in reality nothing more than a whisper left his lips.

Rapunzel heard something in the brush. She paused slowly peering around for she had been chased out of the wood by a wolf a few nights before. Completely stopped and silent she heard it again! She carefully stepped forward and saw a wrech of a man lying in the brush. The sight gave her a start as the horrible man reached to her with a filthy hand. When she moved back with a jolt she noticed that the man's eyes did not exactly follow her. He must be blind, she thought. Carefully she approached him.

"Are you hurt?" She asked.

His lips moved, but he could not speak.

"Can I help you?" again she queried. Still nothing.

She picked him up by the arm and helped him upright. His eyes had been impailed and dried blood had pooled about his eye sockets.

She took him back to her encampment and sat him by the fire. She checked on her two sons and found them to be awake. Rapunzel then made a brisk tea of berries and leaves she had gathered.

She gave him a cup of the warm brew and he inbibed. He apparently had not had liquid in quite some time. Then he spoke! Almost in a whisper at first, but words non the less!

"Rapunzel," he managed. "Rapunzel, it is me." Sending chills down the spine of the girl.

"What is this?" she asked. "How do you know my name?"

"It is I, the boy who called to you, to let down your beautiful hair. I have been tricked by the enchantress and she has plucked out my eyes that if I ever found you I could not gaze upon you."

Rapunzel had recalled a nymph that led her and her two sons to the encampment and that he taught her how to use the forest for both food and for healing. She gathered several leaves and made a paste. She applied this paste to the young boy's damanaged eyes for several days. Once removed the boy could see again, and the family did indeed live happily ever after.

The Lamp

I don't remember where are when mom got it, but it seems to have always been around. Are at least one of some kind.

I've seen her use it in the kitchen on an evening when for whatever reason the power had gone out in the house.

I remember it setting on top of the shelves in the bathroom for a long time. Why? I don't know.

I even remember it moving from room to room as need would have it.
The Lamp!

It is unable to do anything of it's on accord...yet it carries with it beauty and comfort in times of need.

I think back to times when mom would carefully carry it into a room and set it down on the dresser or the chest of drawers. Then with care take the chimney off and place a match to the wick. The gentle light would flood the room. At least as much as a single oil burning lamp could fill a room with light.

The lamp now sits on the edge of my desk where it has been for more than a year. I don't really use it for the light that it provides now but rather for the fragrance that it puts out. I burn a vanilla based oil and it really does fill the room with that smell. It is also pretty to look at.

The lamp stands about sixteen inches tall and is made of a very fragile glass. It is a cobalt blue and the metal parts are of a finished brass.

Yes, it is an inanimate object and it can do nothing of its own accord but it has meaning for me.

The Wolf Wins

After having the door slammed in his face, burning his behind and being generally humiliated by a bunch of little appetizers, The Wolf decided not only to get his dinner, but revenge as well. Noting the cheap drapes and natural insulation of brick, The Wolf developed his plan.


First, The Wolf gathered twigs and straw enough to surround the house (most of which was left over from the first two houses). After purchasing a few other items, the plan was coming together.


Late that night The Wolf quietly pushed his cart up to the side of the house. Working slowly and silently he surrounded the house with the tinder and primed it all with diesel. Like the perfect assassin The Wolf removed his cart and hid in the nearby forest having never been noticed. All that was left to do was fill the bottle with fuel and soak the rag. Once lit, the Molotov Cocktail was hurled into the picture window on the front of the house. As the window dressing burned, hot ashes flew out past the broken glass and ignited the straw outside the house.


An hour later, The Wolf lay against a tree contented and drowsy; pork chop bones on the ground and bacon grease on the front of his shirt.

March 2008

Hey guys, I am just posting what Elizabeth tells me. This is her premise.

Take your favorite fairytale and change the ending. Whatever you want e.g. Dumbo nose dives, Humpty Dumpty was arrested for disorderly conduct, etc. I know this is late, so length is not an issue. We all likely know the story, so just pick-up where you are changing it to save time.

February 2008

The subject matter of your next story must be inanimate. Choose a single item that cannot function by itself, and create. It can be written in any form (first person, third person, etc.) as long as the item itself requires outside influence to operate, and is the main focus of the story.



I am not putting a length requirement, but lets not cheat ourselves.

Vice

Sorry, I have thought about and forgotten this story a hundred times since I posted the premise. I will try harder next time!

I feel the cool air all around me as I am being plucked from the comfort of my friends. The gentle pressure of his fingers makes me feel safe as if I were in the hands of someone who loved me. Slowly he moves me to his mouth as if to kiss me. I find myself resting between his lips curious about this feeling. Then suddenly I feel the pain, the hot searing pain and then it is gone. The only remnant a slow burning feeling. Then I can feel as he draws the air into me. The warmth passes through me from end to end. I begin to feel all of my cares fading away. A sense of euphoria lifts me to another place. It seems to last forever.

Suddenly all of that wonderful pleasure stops. I am slammed onto a hard surface. The twisting and crushing is unbearable. I don't know how long I can withstand this. The warmth is fading. I need that warmth. I will surely die without it! But as hard as I fight, the warmth still fades. I don't understand. As much as he loved me, is he done with me already? The fire is gone now. This is what it feels like to die.

A Day in the Life

At 6a.m., the light in the room flickers on without warning. She walks in and takes off her nightgown and panties and steps into the shower. The room steams up with the heat of the water. After several long minutes, she steps out again and begins to dry herself. In only her towel, she walks to the mirror and runs her fingers through her wet hair. Then she reaches for me. She slathers me with a sweet tasting cream and draws me near. Her lips part. She begins the familiar motions, up, down, side to side. Then she is done. She rinses me with warm water and walks away.

I spend the day alone in the dimness of this room until well after night falls. She enters the room again and reaches for me...

Lucy

"Not again. Not him anway, " Lucy said.

"What's your problem?" asked Jean.

"Cold hands, fumbling, groping, so uneducated."

"You know, he's just begginingg. He'll get better with age, we all do."

"Yes, which is exactly why you can't possibly pair the two of us together. He is green, I am expirenced. He is dumb, I am smart. He is is clumbsy, I am perfect. I don't want that fumbling fool groping me."

Bobby picked up Lucy and ran the pick harshly across her strings. The sound Lucy emmitted was not to her liking. She gave a little extra vibration on E.

Bobby tried for C. His fingers where somewhere in the vacinity of F.

"Why do I have to use this dumb old guitar. I think its strings are too warn, " Bobby moaned.

Bobby's father entered the room.

"What are you doing son?" asked Charles.

"Oh, just messing around. I just can't seem to get C. It just sounds like dirt. Do you think we should re-string it?"

"Son, those strings are fine," Charles giggled under his breath. "It's not the strings. It just takes time. O'l Lucy here, she old. She belonged to Pop. She's...well, she's probably close to sixty years old now. He used to play her on the front porch. This is the guitar I learned to play."

Charles took Lucy in his hands and put together 10 of some of the finest chords immaginable. Lucy let out a sigh of relief and joy. He walked through several more progressions and then suddenly grabbed the neck and looked over at Bobby.

Bobby was grinning. "I wish I could do that. You make it look so easy, and you're right. The sound was awesome."

"It just takes time, son."

"I know, but there are these great new songs out, but when I look at the tabs they are just crazy."

"Start with something easier, son. Take it slow and keep at it. O'l Lucy here, well, if you treat her right she'll sound perfect. There's a lot of love in this old guitar. Pop used to sit on the front porch for hours singing and strumming. In fact, if you flip her over here, yeah, there it is, look deep in there. See it?"

"Bobby 'Pop' Martin - 1947. Is that my Pop?"

"Yep. Pop made this guitar himself. It took him most of one year. But you see son, you can't hardly buy guitars like this one. The Mother of Pearl inlaid here was from shells he collected in World War II, in the Pacific. The face is Rosewood, which is extremely rare now. The strings, well they are steel, but I bet they are at least thirty years old. Bobby, they just don't make them like this anymore."

Lucy seemed to glow a little brighter.

"Wow, I wonder how much its worth?"

"Son, promise me one thing: never get rid of Lucy here. She's a very important part of this family, our haritage. She must always stay with us. Lucy here holds some very important secrets."

"Secrets? What are you talking about? Family secrets?"

"Some day, Bobby. Some day."


Lucy could feel the weight of what she was hearing, deep in her belly.

Home

Well i just put out a drawn out blog and it did not save for whatever reason so since I can't remember it this will be short and to the point. All I want this year is a home, to the point a house. I've never had one, ever and it's time!! My family and I deserve it.

New Year's Resolution

So I guess its ironic that I'm the one who posted this premise, but I don't really do resolutions. It seems to me that when people make resolutions, often times, they are setting themselves up for failure. I think that's because they try to make some kind of ultimate change all at once. It gets to be overwhelming and they just give up. So, I'd rather make progressive goals. Is that just semantics?

Anyway, my first goal is to live a healthier lifestyle than I did in most of 2007. I am not going to "diet" because that doesn't work. What people need is a sustainable lifestyle change. I heard Chef Paul on the radio the other day and he said that he had been over 500 pounds most ofhis life. But now he is down to 220 pounds and got there exclusively by eating less foood. He eats the same stuff he always has, but just eats less of it. This is a message I have been preaching, if not living for a long time. About 8 or 9 years ago, Brian and I started doing that and both lost weight fast. Then we moved to Austin and forgot about the whole thing. But for the last few months, I have started again - and its such an easy thing to do - and the weiht is coming off again. We've also been exercising. We seem to have a pattern, though, of doing well for the first part of the week, then by Thursday or Friday, we kind of fall short. So, the goal part is to become more aware of the amount of food that I eat and follow through with exercising through the whole week. I'd also like to take more time for myself. I have been hearing a lot and I agree that I can take better care of my family and other responsibilities by recharging myself.

Another goal that I would like to attain is to become more organized. I have always been hyper-organized in work and school, but it seems like I just can't get it together in my personal life. I have this awesome filing system, but it doesn't work if I don't put my papers in it. I have a great plan for keeping the house clean, but until I put it into action, my house will stay dirty. I know how to keep up the laundry, but if I don't do it, it piles up in the hampers (and on top and around them) and we run out of clean undies! So, I don't know how to accomplish all of this. I have the plans, I just don't know how to make myself implement them. I feel like I'm busy all the time, but I have no visible accomplishments. So...any suggestions are welcome!

One more thing I'd like to do this year is to make better use of our money. We really ought to know where we stand at any given moment. We should be able to pay our bills on time because we know where they are, what we owe, and whether or not we can afford it!

I guess that's it. Sorry - it was kind of a boring premise. I'll do better on my next turn!!!

Resolution / Goal for 2008

Many things come to mind that I'd love to accomplish this year...however I've chosen to talk to you about the completion of the remodeling of our house. I'd really love to complete the entire project but money and time seem never to be in agreement on getting this done in a timely manner.
So, I'll break it down into completeing two parts of the project this year...perhaps later on I can relate how we were able to accomplish even more.
1. I wanted to (especially) finish the back porch...to the point that it would not fall down. A VERY REAL POSSIABILITY.
The repairing of the porch, to where it is safe and will not fall off of the house has been accomplished. With the help of Jared and Brian on the weekend of Jan. 20, 2008 we jacked the porch back up into place and secured it.
This weekend Jan. 27, 2008 should see the finished product of the porch being repaired. Jared and I hope to complete the project at this time.
2. I want to repair the roof of the house. This will be a complete replacement of the roof.
The old roof must be taken completely off...there are presently two layers of shingles on the roof.
Then we will replace the roof with a new metal roof. I do not ever want to work on the roof of the house again during my life time. Exception being if a tornado should hit it.

The roof project is going to run me about $1500 to $2000 dollar's not counting what it will cost me to feed Jared and Brian, that could be harsh.
Kill a deer please...!

Play Guitar

This is the year of the guitar. I have always wanted to learn to play a musical instrument. Piano would have been my choice, I love the sound of jazz piano. However, pianos are just darned expensive, and then there's the lessons on top of that.

I have been talking about getting a guitar for some time now. My daughter, Brooklyn, has wanted one too. We got her one for Christmas.

I wanted to make sure that she really followed up with it too. Short attention spans can diminish hopes and dreams at times.

I had some extra Christmas money left over. Jared and I spent several hours at pawn shops and guitar stores. I finally found one. It's a Lyon brand by Washburn.

By the end of the year I would like to be able to play at least 3 songs well, and play with my daughter.

Fitness Goal

This is a real goal for this year. Due to the new job that I have, I now have a need to be in better shape and stronger than I have been in the past. The physical part of my job is going to make me stronger whether I want it to or not, but it is still a challenge. So the goal that I have is to stay active during my off time, and by the end of the year, I want the heavy lifting that I have to do at work to seem easy for me. I want to find myself in the best shape of my life by the end of this year if not sooner.

January 2008

State one New Year's Resolution or goal, etc. (preferably real, but make it up if you don't have one). Make a step by step plan with a timeline on how you can accomplish this by the end of the year. Add any information you wish on why you chose this goal or what/who inspired you. Let us know if this is a real resolution/goal so that we can check back in on the results toward the end of the year.

Due January 31, 2008