It is November 11th, which means, at 11 am today, a story is meant to appear. For this year it is a …
Warm Remembrance
By TeraS
The weather is unseasonably warm this year. We expect that at this point on the calendar the skies will be grey, the winds brisk. They would bring the cold of November to chill those who gather on this day.
It seems somehow odd, perhaps not right, whatever that word might be referring to. We should expect to be bundled against the frost and freeze, the snow and ice. Again, there is that feeling of it feeling wrong somehow to behold this weather for this gathering.
Scarves give way to sunglasses meant for warmer moments in the year prior. Long coats are passed over for lighter windbreakers for some, sweaters for others. The heat cast off from the sun is surprising in how it manages to take the edge off the cool; there’s a reminder of the summer past in that. Again, there comes the feeling that perhaps it’s not right to be thinking of that in this moment.
The gathering this year matters a bit more. Last year, we remembered alone more than together. Those we honoured seemed that bit further away. Those that we saw many times before are lessened with the passing of another year, another life, another memory stilled. The fingers of fate and time past, present, and future bide their time as they eternally do.
Still, the leaves turned colour, falling from the maple trees onto the neatly trimmed grasses surrounding those who gather here. The red leaves swirled in the winds for weeks before, being sent here and there, scattering them to bring colour to the green below and the white obelisk which marks the centre point of the gathering this year.
It stands in this place alone much of the time. Being part of the world that the statue carved into the leading face can see at a distance, but not close enough that it might, if it could, hear the lives that pass by on the other side of the iron fence protecting this place of honour. The white marble is carved carefully to bring into focus a far-too-young man, his posture straight and true, eyes cast over the marker plates buried into the grass to mark resting places of honour.
He stands in place as those left behind to remember file by, time and age making their bodies ache. Some march with purpose, others stand or are positioned to watch the ceremonies unfold. The cold does not come to them this year, being held at arm’s length for a time, no matter how short that well be. They think about the past that was, the purpose they had, the results of their labours, and all that beyond. The warm weather brings memories of being young, seeking adventure in the spring, the experience of the summers, falls, and winters until their work was done.
The sun shines brightly as the speeches are made, the words telling of gratitude and thanks never said well or fully. It’s a ripple of time mixing with the lives left in the past and those that who continue onwards till they meet their comrades once more. Perhaps it’s the glare of the sun, or it might be the wind that tosses hair, moves jackets, causes ribbons to flutter and flags to snap to attention.
From time to time, those being honoured look across to the cenotaph, and something flickers across their weathered visages. It’s hard to describe the expression. : A a wry smile perhaps is the best explanation; something that only those few can understand, for the experience can never be truly explained fully.
The weather has brought a warm remembrance, the recollection of those days long ago when they were young, their voices strong, their hearts brave. We are unable to resolve what their mind’s eyes see in the glare of the sunbeams behind the one standing vigil in marble. A moment in time, not frozen but glowing with the lives remembered by those who do; forever young in their moment, looking across the years in return, visages of those who are connected in their fellowship eternal.
In the Realm universe there is a particular angel who a particular red-tailed Queen of the Realm calls her Angel Love. I mention this because this week’s Image, while not about that particular pair, reminds me of then, their love and more…
There’s many things that I could muse about, their expressions, the way they are posed together. The lovely detail in the work itself. But really it’s a reminder, at least to me, of two souls in love regardless of all else in the presence of Goddess…
Tina’s story travels a bit further along the path this time on the Tale. We’ll eventually get where things are going, but before we can do so there’s a stop along the way that needs to be made. After all, you should know where to turn when everything is becoming a …
Gongshow – Part VII
By TeraS
For Justin, for always…
The Wicked One’s laughter faded away as Tina ran over hill and dale racing away from her. She didn’t dare stop or look behind until a fork in the golden cobblestone path that carried her far away from the castle brought Tina up short. Looking back, the young yellow-tail could just make out the tip of the tallest silver spire in the distance.
She’d managed to run away from that wicked silver-tail … and from Miriam. That really bugged her most of all. She knew what was going to happen to her cousin, and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. She should have stayed no matter what Miriam told her, should have dragged her out of there with her … shoulda’ … woulda’ … coulda’ …
For the first time, Tina really understood what her brother, Lance, went through, and she didn’t like it at all. It sucked, and not in the way that her sister, Monica, had fun with. She kept running through what happened in her thoughts and tried to figure out some other way things could have gone. Frumping loudly, Tina found a patch of blue-green grass to rest and watched the clouds far above. She wished she’d been older. Then she woulda’ done something. The frustration was pushing Tina to march right back and save Miriam when she heard her great-grand-uncle’s voice: “Don’t be in a rush to get to your future. It’ll be there when you get there.”
Sitting up, she looked all around for him, but all she saw was the fork in the road waiting for her and no sign of him. Sighing, her eyes fell upon the silver heels that kept tripping her up, and Tina yanked them off and threw them as hard as she could into the distance. Stupid things anyway–runners were so much better–and she had no idea how all of the other succubi managed to do things while wearing them.
Wiggling her sock-covered toes, she looked at the paths leading away and considered what she could do, not what she could have done. She had to think things through and find a way to save her cousin from that wicked silver-tail. Miriam had said to find Auntie Tera, but not how to do that exactly. She didn’t have a map of this place; she didn’t know where Auntie would be.
All she had was the two paths in front of her and where they might lead to. One path was sort of a black stone that curled off towards a dark and forbidding forest. The other was made of greyish stones and seemed to be going in the direction of a wooden rose-coloured bridge that passed over a wild river and whatever lay beyond that. Neither seemed that appealing, Tina thought. She wished that she remembered all of the fairy tales that Mom had told her years ago; there would be a clue there. On the edge of picking using “eeny meeny miny moe,” having no better idea, Miriam’s warning that this place was very stereotypical made the choice a simple one. Standing on her socks, Tina shook her yellow-tail out and made up her mind: “A bridge over troubled waters. That’s so stereotypical that Auntie has to be that way.”
Starting off, Tina quickly decided that getting rid of the cursed shoes might not have been the brightest thing she’d ever done. The stones weren’t exactly kind as she made her way, but the alternative was a worse one. She’d gotten halfway to the bridge when the sound of heels clicking on stones made her look over her shoulder. There, in the middle of the path, were the damned shoes … and they were getting closer by the second. Deciding to make a run for it, Tina rushed towards the bridge, hoping that somehow the shoes couldn’t follow her to the other side.
She’d just gotten halfway, the river roaring in her ears, when she stumbled and fell, skinning her knee. Curling up and wincing from the pain, she didn’t see the shoes jump into the air and land next to her and then pounced back on her feet. Rolling over, Tina went to pull them off again, but before she could do so, they glowed brightly and then shifted into silver ankle boots, without a zipper, too tall heels, and there was no way she was going to be pulling them off. The river and bridge were both treated to a long series of hockey curses that Tina had learned that, while not turning the air blue, certainly would have made her mom ground her for a week, maybe longer.
Close to tears, the young yellow-tail directed her anger at the boots she was stuck with and whined, “The only thing you’re going to do is make me break my neck!” Tina didn’t expect anything to happen–this was the Wicked One’s doing. But then she had a thought. Digging out that pain-in-the-tail of a hockey puck from her jean pocket, she slapped him against the boots in anger: “Gimme me a break and at least make it easier for me to walk!” The shift to wedge boots wasn’t exactly what Tina wanted, but this was better than the stupid point heels they’d been before.
Deciding not to press her luck, Tina got back on her feet and finished crossing the bridge before the path meandered it’s way to a house that made Tina stop and stare at for a long time: a red brick house, with red brick horns sticking out of the roof and a red brick tail poking out the side. There was no mistaking the red colour, either. There was only one succubi with that shade of red tail. It sort of made sense, in an Auntie sort of way, though. She loved her tail, red was always her colour, too. It was a really weird looking house that Tina was still trying to figure out when she heard a gaggle of giggles and ducked behind a shrub that was trimmed into the shape of a book, hiding her from view.
It wasn’t long before a group of young succubi and incubi appeared, rushing down the path which lead to the front door of the house. The hyperactive group all wore red jumpers, even if their tails and horns were all sorts of different colours. The group all milled around the front door, pointing at each other and trying to decide who was going to knock. Still peeking out from behind the shrub, Tina was surprised by a young voice: “Hi!” Turning about, Tina found a very young purple-tailed incubi looking up at her. Her gasp of surprise caught the attention of those nearby and it wasn’t long before those who had been playing around the door were now gathered around Tina, looking at her with big eyes and swishing tails.
A bit overwhelmed, Tina managed to wave her fingers: “Um … Hi.” The brave little purple tail waved shyly: “Hi! Are ya’ a Tailkin, too?” A blue-tailed succubi considered Tina and mused: “Nah, she’s too tall to be!” Tina felt a little bad about that: “I’m just a little older than you are! Doesn’t mean that I’m not!” What followed was the group of younger tails arguing among themselves if Tina really was or wasn’t before the door to the house opened and a very familiar voice carried to them all: “Come along, little Tailkins!”
Tina found herself carried along in the rush of tails running towards the achingly familiar figure who stood at the doorway holding a basket of cookies. It was Auntie Tera! That ebony hair, red tail, and those horns were unmistakable. Her clothes, however, were something that Tina would have never expected Auntie to ever wear. But the latex, of course, and red, of course, were her style. The rest of the look really wasn’t, though it was really familiar: the stockings, dress, and look were completely fairy tale story. Tina decided that her Auntie looked like Snow White’s older and sexier sister, which made sense, considering Auntie was sweet, kind, cheerful, and everything that the Wicked One wasn’t. Being placed front and centre by the Tailkins, Tina asked her not-quite Auntie: “Are you wicked?”
Tera giggled at the question before hugging Tina in such a familiar way: “I’m not wicked. I’m the Naughty One.”
Wrapping her tail around her Auntie, Tina couldn’t argue with that. Auntie Tera was anything but wicked, no matter what.
another installment in the chronic- what? -cles of hurricane ian recovery. our fence is gone, and nobody is more affected than our goofy dogs who can’t understand why we’re letting the rabbits overrun our backyard. so i’ve started taking them on some little runs, which have turned into “drags”. they fast!
It is said that strange things happen around yellow-tails. There is a sense that their true abilities aren’t quite understood well because there are so few of them. When two of the brightest of them meet, there’s every possibility there will, not might, be a …
Gongshow – Part IV
By TeraS
For Justin, for always…
Tina had seen all sorts of different-coloured tails:. her mom’s red, Auntie’s fiery red one–which was especially unmistakable–and her sister’s true-blue one–which was familiar, of course, too. She’d seen every colour of the rainbow and more when she’d been … encouraged … to tag along to this or that gathering. Halloween was the more interesting time of year as many a tail reflected the personalities she met along the way. But she’d ever seen another yellow tail. Never even heard about another yellow tail, either.
But here was Miriam, her cousin, a yellow-tail just like her. The Bo-Peep costume hid her tail, but her so-yellow horns were right there in front of Tina and captivated her. Nibbling her lip, still being held tightly by her yellow-tailed cousin, a hesitant hand touched one of Miriam’s horns. Miriam giggled: “Yup. They’re real, just like yours.”
“Yeah, but yours are so bright!”
Miriam tussled Tina’s hair: “Wait till you’re my age. I bet yours will be just as bright!”
A bit of self-doubt was clear in Tina’s reply: “Sure.”
Offering her little finger, the slightly-older yellow tail looked very serious: “Pinkie swear promise.”
Hooking her pinkie with her cousin’s, Tina mood brightened, just like her tail did: “Promise!”
Looking over her shoulder, a young yellow tail looked at her Auntie with wide eyes. Auntie just pointed at her horns with a bemused smile, because, of course, Auntie would have been scheming about this, probably since the day Tina was born. That was so like her, and Tina loved Auntie that much more because of it.
Looking off into the distance where the sounds of many young tails rushing about could be heard, Tera flicked an errant lock of her ebon mane into place before striding across the reading room, waving her tail at the yellow tails, her voice holding a clear tone of mirth: “You two have fun. I’m going to look after the little ones.”
Watching Auntie vanish into the stacks, Tina wondered out loud: “She’s not mad at them, is she?” Miriam laughed: “Tera? Never. Soon as they see her, they’ll come running!” Tina couldn’t argue with that; Auntie was the best.
Miriam looked around and found the costume hat she’d been wearing: “How about we go back to my office, I get changed, and we can go and do something?” One more hug, then Tina rushed over to her hockey stick and backpack to collect them both. Moments later, the library was treated to the sight of a pair of yellow-tails, one a Bo-Beep and the other a slightly hyper youth, telling stories about themselves.
Tina found herself soon after in an interesting office that bore Miriam’s name on the door. It wasn’t the desk that caught her attention, that was somewhat utilitarian. It wasn’t the bookcases around the walls that held a bewildering collection of subject matter, either. No, what really struck the blue-haired yellow-tail was the collection of costumes on rolling racks placed beside a screen, behind which Miriam was in the midst of changing her clothing.
Inquisitively, Tina poked through the collection as her cousin explained: “I like reading to the young tails, and it’s a lot more fun to dress up like a character from the book I’m reading to them.” Tina didn’t mention that some of those costumes she found looked really adult, and instead just gave a non-committal “Uh-huh.” There were odder fetishes, after all.
“Close your eyes.”
“Why? And don’t say that would be telling, because that’s Auntie’s thing!”
Miriam poked her head out from behind the screen, slipping a pair of large thin-framed glasses on: “Oh fine. Spoil my fun why don’t you!”
Tina would always remember the first time she saw Miriam, that was special. Watching her cousin step out from behind the screen she knew that this mattered more for both of them. Long blonde hair in braids fell over her shoulders with red bows taming them as best they could. The glasses framed a pair of green eyes that were still a bit wet with tears. A white button down top, blue short-crop jacket, pencil skirt, black belt and shoes in yellow, somehow just fit with the yellow tail that hovered over her left shoulder. This wasn’t Bo-Peep. This was her cousin Miriam who opened her arms wide: “Hi.”
Tina ran over and looked up into Miriam’s green eyes before hugging her, her own tail wrapping around their legs as Miriam’s own looped around their waists: “Hi, yerself.” There were so many questions that the now-very-hyperactive young yellow-tail was dying to ask. For that matter, the yellow-tailed librarian was just as eager to tell stories and weave tales for her cousin. But there were things Miriam had to do, and so the storytelling moved out of the office and into the stacks of the library, Miriam leading the way and Tina happily pushing a book cart as they went from aisle to aisle putting books back where they belonged.
“What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?”
Miriam blushed: “That’s something I’ll tell you about when you’re older.”
“Oh, come on. How bad can it possibly be?”
The yellow-tailed librarian allowed herself a naughty smile: “All the way up to eleven.”
“Seriously?”
Miriam tapped one of her young cousin’s horns: “Crazy things happen around yellow tails like us. That’s not just a myth; promise.”
Eventually, the pair found the hockey section, which gave Tina a dopey smile as she scanned the books. Then one of them caught her attention as Miriam was putting another book away from their cart. Tugging at the spine, Tina pulled it loose before holding it in her hands in confusion: “What’s this doing here?”
Miriam touched the book that Tina had been holding and read out the title: “Sin Bin.”
Neither yellow tail noticed the tips of their tails just brushing against one another or the flash coming from both. In the next moment, there were two yellow-tails with the same brightest colour of tail seen in the Realm in over a hundred years.
The librarian explained: “It’s a fairy tale.”
“In the hockey section? With that title?”
Pushing her glasses into place, Miriam mused: “Well fairy tales in the Realm are kind of different.”
“Like, how different?”
The pair were interrupted by a very small, hockey puck shaped figure, wearing skates and hockey gloves, zooming across the hall towards them. The puck stopped, blew a whistle and pointed at the yellow tails: “That’s a no-no!”
The library shuddered around the pair, swirling and twisting before snapping back to the way it was before. Mostly. The colours were wrong, the books on the shelves seemed to be backwards. Most disconcerting were two things. One, the book they had been holding was missing. The other was a bit more personal in nature.
The younger yellow-tail looked at the silver high heels that she wobbled on in confusion: “What … the heck?”
Miriam, on the other hand, looked at the purple thigh-high boots that had appeared in place of her more sensible shoes and sighed: “Oh, for Tera’s sake …”
Confused, Tina asked: “This isn’t good, is it?”
The small puck-like being turned and skated away down the book aisle, calling out: “Keep your eyes on me, I’m pretty fast!”
As Miriam rushed off, she called out: “Not even close! Come on! We have to catch him!”
The two slightly miffed yellow-tails rushed after their quarry, disappearing into the depths of the Library … bringing their tails behind them …
Word is still out on whether the Netflix Sandman series will come back for another season. Apparently the ratings were okay, but the high cost of the series is a still a factor. I thought it was pretty well done, though some episodes were more to my liking than others. I did appreciate how closely they stuck to the comic stories. Dream of a Thousand Cats was one of my favorite Sandman tales, and I really enjoyed how that was adapted.
Just like our grandparents assured us, the way they traveled on foot
to get to school was more challenging than the route the Fellowship
had to take in their effort to get the One Ring to Mordor.
They also complain
of the mental torture they had to endure memorizing the whole of The
Song of Hiawatha by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow; no doubt that is a
bit of an exaggeration as the whole epic poem would take something
like four hours or more to read aloud in its entirety.
However, they did,
back long in the long ago, make school children learn sections of it
by heart.
Perhaps that is why
The Song of Hiawatha, America’s entry in the list of national epic
poems, is now, if not forgotten, at least little thought of, almost
enough to be so.
That’s a shame
because it’s a great read that deserves a comeback.
The epic poem has
Wadsworth recounting Native American myths and Legends in a way that
does them right.
Sure it’s from his
white Anglo-Saxon perspective, but it is taken from genuine Native
American sources.
After all the Norse
myths are only still around because some Christian monks thought to
write some of them down.
Anyway H. W. L, was
a genius and makes it work.
I’m just saying
consider giving The Song of Hiawatha a chance.
I’d already decided what to do for today’s post, but it was made all the more pertinent by the Daily Fail’s random reporting yesterday of the Trojan War as fact, and giving an actual date for the start of the war (April 24th 1184BCE anyone?)Also what is this nonsense? ‘itchaca’?Seriously, what?
So my own post on how some folk have actually tried to date the action of the Iliad and Odyssey using scientifically predictable total eclipses seemed even more pertinent!
NB: Eratosthenes in circa 220BCE suggested the fall of Troy was 11th June 1183 (or possibly 1184, two different years in the pages/papers I’ve just read). The second paper below explains why he’s wrong, and the third explains how he came to that date. But if you Google ‘date fall of Troy’, that’s what you get
Here are the papers cited in my post in case you’d like to read them (and tell me how, when to a layperson like me they seem to be using the same data but end up with differing years- it was late and I was tired as well as uninformed…)
Papers cited:
Papamarinopoulos S., Preka-Papadema P., Mitropetros P., Antonopoulos P., Mitropetrou E., Saranditis G., A NEW ASTRONOMICAL DATING OF THE TROJAN WAR’S END, Mediterranean Archaeology and Archaeometry, Vol. 14, No. 1, pp. 93-102, 2014
Göran Henriksson, THE TROJAN WAR DATED BY TWO SOLAR ECLIPSES, Mediterranean Archaeology and Archaeometry, Vol. 12, No 1, pp. 63-76, 2012 (paper submitted 2011)
EDIT: In addition, this paper ‘Ancient Chronograph, Erastosthenes and the Dating of the Fall of Troy’ by Nikos Kokkinos, in which the way Eratosthenes came up with the date 1183BCE (back in c. 220BCE) for the fall of Troy is argued/explained. Is Eratosthenes possibly where the DM got their dates from?
* International Sight Day theme for 2022 is “Love Your Eyes.”
* International Day for Natural Disaster Reduction (U.N.)
* International Skeptics Day
* National Yorkshire Pudding Day
* National M&M Day (U.S.)
* Columbus Tells a Lie Day. It was discovered that Columbus’ ships landed on the 13th of October 1492; he was persuaded by Dutch sailor Piet de Stuini (or DeStynie) to change it to the 12th in the logs because he said that the number 13 might frighten sailors and future investors away. An Italian study group called the Colombiani detected this change.
