New story - June 6

 Obligatory disclaimer: real life sucks, hence why I've been so quiet lately. Ah well, for a change, here's a new story of mine.

It was morning, the sky was clearing up, but the wind was blowing hard and strong and cold, even for early summer. John watched the mourning doves at his birdfeeder with a familiar, simmering irritation – why did he invest into this contraption anyhow? He did not want to remember right now, as the doves cooed and pecked at the scattered birdseed with an almost offensive leisure, their plump bodies almost an affront to his own taut nerves as they stored birdseed in their crops.

As a particularly corpulent bird hopped closer to the window, John turned away. Bloated, self-satisfied creatures, he thought, projecting all his irrational irritation onto their feathery forms. Where’s a hawk when you needed one? He got onto his feet and walked outside. Maybe elsewhere something better was going on?

 

 “Honestly, Rebecca, those tattoos are just… a lot,” Donna said, her voice dripping with an elegant disapproval that always grated. Rebecca, her arm a canvas of vibrant, swirling blues and greens, merely arched an eyebrow. Donna, emboldened, continued, “I mean, there’s subtle art, and then there’s… that.” She gestured vaguely at Rebecca’s forearm. Rebecca just smiled a slow, knowing curve of her lips. Then, with a theatrical flourish, Rebecca pushed up the sleeve of Donna’s own silk blouse. Beneath, a magnificent, intricate serpent-dragon, its scales shimmering with metallic thread, snaked from her shoulder to her wrist, each detail a testament to hours of meticulous, painful artistry, was connected to other tattoos, still hidden beneath Donna’s blouse. Rebecca’s earlier ink looked like a child’s crayon drawing next to Donna’s masterpiece. Donna’s face, usually so composed, went slack with panic. “Where, where did they come from?” she twitched as she turned to Rebecca, because the latter was the closest. “Rebecca, this isn’t me, this isn’t me, and you know it!” Rebecca, who carefully covered her own arm with her own sleeve, said nothing. To be honest, she felt rather jealous of the older woman’s tattoos, now that she saw them.

Across the room, Anna, a friend of Donna’ began her own verbal assault, thinly disguised as a concerned speech. The bohemian lifestyle of Jenna, (Donna’s daughter), her endless backpacking trips, her "spiritual journeys" – it was all just so pointless, according to Anna. Jenna was not a child or even a teen anymore; she had to settle down; whether here, in her hometown, or elsewhere was another story. Clearly, Jenna seemed happier abroad, so perhaps it was time to move on and stop giving her mother more grey hairs?

However, as she began to speak, Jenna carefully inserted herself into the rant, recounting a story of how Anna helped people in the past, and what a shame that people started to ignore Anna now that the latter has aged a bit and no longer looked as flamboyant as before. Looking into Jenna’s eyes shining with a genuine compassion, Anna’s planned words crumbled. Jenna’s empathy was a force, a warmth that Anna, with her cold judgments, was missing lately. Anna found herself not criticizing, but asking questions, truly listening for the first time, as the two women sat down and talked. They had their differences, mental and physical, yes, but there were similarities too – both women shared a lean body plan of those who exercise a lot and do plenty of physical activities, and their faces showed the same tan – of those who spent a lot of time outdoors; honestly, Anna looked quite good for her age, as Jenna pointed out…

Anna ended up hiring Jenna as her receptionist, and never regretted it. Donna never really realized it – her own friendship with Anna rather faded, but her own hairdo now sparkled to match her tattoos.

It helped, in a small way, with her identity crisis.

 

The heat was a living thing in the Balkan Mountains, baking the dry earth to a cracking crisp. An extra-large and powerful Vipera ammodytes, its horn-like snout twitching, slithered across a sun-baked rock, its patterns a perfect camouflage against the speckled stone. Down, down, towards the shade of a fig tree, it moved its intentions purely predatory, and its existence utterly indifferent to human concerns. There, a couple of little owls made their nest in a tree hollow – it was dark and comfortable, but also too close to the ground. The owlets and their parents did not realize this, but the world did not care.

A trio of owlets were in the hollow, warming each other, waiting for their parents to come with their regularly scheduled meal. The noise outside could have told them that that would never happen, but the owlets were too little, and too sleepy to realize this.

…Few hours later, when their calls for food became truly desperate – they were that young anyhow – a couple of park rangers found them and got them out of the hollow into an appropriate holding container. They were given a small mouse each, and immediately relaxed and huddled together, as they did not know much about the world.

The snake was long gone, digesting its own meal in peace.

 

Miles away, off the coast of Turkey, a sleek, grey shadow cut through the turquoise water. A shortfin mako shark, a ghost of the deep, patrolled the ancient currents, its primeval instincts honed over millions of years. A tourist boat, oblivious, chugged towards a picturesque cove, its passengers laughing, their world a million miles from the silent, powerful hunter beneath the waves.

The mako’s nose twitched as some of the tourists made all the right, or wrong, splashes and other noises to attract it. Slowly, circling, it began to surface. Another mako, a younger one, zoomed by, almost hitting the first shark, who began to chase it. Things could have gone in any direction, when a bait ball of sardines or similar fish appeared from the blue. The sharks stopped their confrontation and began to hunt instead, keeping a distance between themselves, but getting along well enough, even though one of them was visibly bigger and older than the other one…

 

John found himself sitting on his couch in the living room, an unfinished bottle of beer in his hand and a bunch of forgotten and faded memories and dreams in his head. He vaguely remembered Jenna, now handling a mid-life crisis by shedding her metaphorical skin, as well as Anna and Donna, who found their home in each other; he remembered the Balkans and the Turkish coast, but could not make heads or tails of those memories.

He looked outside. The doves were gone, the birdfeeder was mostly empty. He will try different birdfeed next time.

 End - and what do you think? Please let me know, because real life sucks.

New story - April 16

 Obligatory disclaimer: real life sucks, my phone is especially acting up, and DD is being his regular awesome self, so here's something different - a new story, eh?

Kaleen did not just walk; he marched. Every step was a heavy thud against the sun-baked dirt of the hilly country, a rhythmic stomping that sent dust motes dancing around his boots. He ignored the rolling beauty of the boulders and the hardy shrubs that clung to the slopes. His mind was a storm of irritation, focused entirely on the path ahead—or rather, the lack of one.

 

He was passing a jagged fissure in the hillside, a dark mouth of a cave that smelled of cool earth and old stone. He did not glance at it. He did not care what lived in the shadows.

 

A sharp, melodic whistle pierced the air.

 

Kaleen stopped. He turned slowly, his brow furrowed in a deep scowl. Standing at the cave’s entrance was a woman. She was striking, leaning against the stone with a beckoning finger and a knowing smirk.

 

Kaleen did not move toward her. He did a double take, blinking as if trying to clear his vision, and then barked, "Did you see anyone else passing by here? Another woman? Looking rather like me? As Tall as I am? Trailing a scent of betrayal and bad decisions, perhaps?"

 

The woman’s smirk faltered. She blinked, her head tilting in genuine confusion. This was not the usual reaction to her lure. She gave a slow, bewildered shake of her head.

 

"Great," Kaleen grumbled. "Helpful."

 

He turned on his heel and began to stomp away again.

 

Whiz—CRACK.

 

A rock the size of a fist shattered against a boulder inches from his head. Kaleen spun around, his hand instinctively dropping to the heavy belt at his waist.

 

The woman stood there, her arm still extended from the throw. She looked remarkably sheepish, her expression a mix of "I can’t believe I just did that" and "don't you dare leave." She gestured vaguely, almost desperately, toward the darkness of the cave.

 

Kaleen sighed, a sound like a leaking bellows. "Do you need help or something?"

 

She did not speak, but her eyes held a frantic sort of pull. Grumbling under his breath about his own misplaced sense of duty, Kaleen trudged toward the cave and stepped inside.

 

The interior was vast, an amphitheater of shadows that stretched far beyond what the exterior suggested. Kaleen turned to ask what the problem was, but the woman was already gone.

 

In her place, a nightmare uncoiled.

 

From the waist down, she was a thick, muscular coil of emerald and obsidian scales. She hissed, her jaw unhinging to reveal long, curved fangs dripping with venom. She lunged, her movements a blur of predatory grace.

 

Kaleen did not scream. He did not even draw a weapon. He simply reached out and caught her by the shoulders.

 

The hybrid thrashed, her tail whipping against the cave floor, but Kaleen stood like a mountain. His arms were locked, keeping her snapping jaws exactly three feet from his face. He looked profoundly bored.

 

"Are you done?" he asked.

 

She hissed again, snapping her fangs at the air. Kaleen rolled his eyes and gave her a firm, two-handed shove. He stepped back, centered his weight, and took a deep, shuddering breath.

 

The air in the cave suddenly felt heavy. A low, grinding sound—the sound of shifting chitin—echoed through the chamber.

 

The snake-woman froze. Her slit-pupiled eyes widened as the man before her vanished, replaced in a heartbeat by a hulking shadow. A giant scorpion, easily twice her size, stood over her. Its carapace was the color of dried blood, and its massive stinger hummed with a lethal, iridescent glow.

 

The hybrid did not fight. She turned and scrambled for the nearest wall, her fingers digging into the cracks as she tried to scale the vertical stone.

 

She felt a weight beneath her. Kaleen—human once more—was grunting as he shoved her upward by her scaled backside, helping her reach a high ledge.

 

"Get up there then, if you're so scared," he muttered.

 

She perched on the ledge, looking down at him with a mix of fury and intense embarrassment.

 

"I'll ask one more time," Kaleen said, dusting off his hands. "Did you see anyone else?"

 

"No!" she snapped her voice high and sharp.

 

Kaleen nodded, satisfied in a grim sort of way. He turned to leave.

 

"Wait!" she hissed, her hand darting out to grab his tunic. "Did you... did you understand me? When I called to you?"

 

"Yes," Kaleen said, looking over his shoulder. "Why shouldn't I?"

 

"Because I whistle," she whispered, her eyes searching his. "People can understand. They just... come."

 

Kaleen groaned. "Is this some sort of woman-logic thing?"

 

"No," she said, her voice dropping an octave. "It’s part of my curse."

 

Kaleen went still. "Gods? Or some other magic?"

 

"...Gods," she admitted.

 

"Right. Figures. For my former companion and me it was 'some other magic.' A botched ritual, a temple collapsing... the usual mess. Well, anyhow—"

 

"Can you help me?" she interrupted. The aggression was gone, replaced by a small, fragile voice. "Can you break it?"

 

Kaleen looked at the exit, then back at her. "You tried to kill me."

 

"It’s my nature," she pleaded, her tail twitching nervously. "Besides... we are similar. Both monsters."

 

Kaleen’s expression darkened. "My former companion said something similar. Right before she abandoned me to deal with the fallout."

 

"Please?"

 

Kaleen closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Fine. Let's go, before the giant tortoise arrives."

 

The snake-woman paused, her head tilting. "Say what?"

 

He led her out of the cave and up to the crest of the highest hill. From there, the world opened up. He pointed to a jagged silhouette of ruins on the horizon—the place where his life had gone sideways. Then, he pointed down into the valley.

 

Moving with a slow, terrifying inevitability was a tortoise. It was the size of a small manor house, its shell covered in jagged moss-covered ridges. Its eyes were fixed on the hillside, and it looked—even from this distance—utterly, cosmically pissed off.

 

"It’s tracking us," Kaleen explained. "Don't ask why. It's just very, very angry."

 

The woman looked at the beast, then at the distant horizon where her own salvation supposedly lay. She explained the location of the shrine she needed to reach, but her shoulders slumped. "I can't get there in time. I am too slow. On the open ground... I'm slower than that turtle."

 

Kaleen looked at the giant tortoise, then at the snake-woman. He let out a long, weary sigh.

 

"Get moving," he said, gesturing toward the path. "I'll help you. But we have to move before that overgrown pebble catches our scent."

 

Therefore, the scorpion and the serpent began their trek across the dirt, two cursed souls walking away from one monster and toward another.

So, what are your opinions? Please share!

New story - March 11

 Obligatory disclaimer: real life sucks, so here's an original story from  me for a change. Don't judge it too harshly.

Darla woke with a prickling sensation, like the last hint of static after a storm. Not a bad feeling, just...alerting. She slid out of bed, the cool floor a grounding contrast to the unease that vanished quickly, too. Dressing was a simple act for Darla; her body, a well-oiled machine built for activity, moved with grace and efficiency.

The corridor hummed with the quiet industry of early morning. There, near the window, was Stacy, scrubbing diligently, her brow furrowed in concentration. Even with her pronounced limp and clubfoot, Stacy held herself with a regal air.

"Morning, Stacy!" Darla chirped, injecting warmth into her voice. Stacy beamed back, a flash of brilliant white teeth. "Morning, Darla! Almost done here!"

Darla gently laid a hand on Stacy's shoulder. "You know, your sister and Mum are still a bit wobbly this morning. Maybe we can help them get ready?"

Stacy's face softened. "I get so caught up in being able... I forget they need me."

Together, they navigated the hallway to Lisa's room. Lisa, her long, delicate neck drooping, lay patiently on  her bed. "Good morning!" Lisa's voice, though soft, was full of enthusiasm.

"Morning, sunshine," Darla said, grabbing Lisa's new custom brace. "Ready for adventures?" With practiced ease, Darla and Stacy carefully placed the brace, securing it with gentle clicks. 

The moment it was on, Lisa's posture straightened, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Adventure awaits!" she proclaimed, bouncing slightly.

Finally, they arrived at Simone's room. The older woman struggled to pull a dress over her head, her arched back contorting in pain. Darla gasped, snatching the embroidered corset from the bedpost.

"Mum, you know you shouldn't be doing this alone!" Darla chided playfully, her fingers flying as she expertly laced the corset.

Simone sighed in relief as the supportive garment eased the strain and she stood straight and not bent almost double. "Thank you, darling girl. I sometimes forget how much I need... well, you." She grasped Darla's hand, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "It means the world to me that you see us, truly see us. Most of our family wrote us off as... broken."

Darla squeezed Simone's hand. "Don't be silly. You're not broken, you're brilliant. And you're my family. I just know that." Darla paused then said: "And besides you're a mum to me as well."

Simone smiled, a genuine, radiating smile that lit up her face. "Then let's get this family fed. Pancakes, anyone?"

As the four of them made their way to the kitchen, the morning's disquiet faded for Darla. The static had cleared, replaced by a clear, bright chord of belonging. This was where she was meant to be.

Herons, a fanfic - Nov 15

Obligatory disclaimer: real life sucks, so here's a brief Tolkien-based drabble instead: 

Across the multiverse…

Once upon a time, there was a war of wrath.

And the Valar burned the strongholds of Morgoth in the North to the ground.

And little was left of it, but ashes. …Ok, ashes, and the survivors, fleeing to all the four corners of the Middle-Earth.

And the Valar, the Maiar, and the rest of their allies were about to pursue them, when something else arose from the ashes: a flock of birds, long-necked, long-limbed, long-beaked, with large wings, clad in feathers of ash-grey. The birds circled once, twice, three times over the remnants of Morgoth’s fallen fortress and flew away, across the Middle-Earth, for they were the first herons of this world.

The Valar and the Maiar, (in particular, the Maia who would be later known as Radagast the Brown), just stared at the open-mouthed and open-eyed, for this was the first good news since Morgoth was defeated for good now. And as they stared and discussed among themselves the new development, someone else made good on their escape – Sauron, (of course).

“Well, this was a lark,” he thought to himself, as he made his own way across Middle-Earth, to his own secret hideout, (unknown to anyone else, good or bad). “Now it’s off to execute my next plan – one to take over the world!

End

Big Paul, a story - Oct 8

Obligatory disclaimer: real life sucks, so here's a story for you instead:

 It was dark now. Big Paul, a veteran sheepdog, was already at guard, guarding the sheep. (Hey, what did you expect?) It was still relatively early after sunset, so everything was quiet, though not too quiet, and Big Paul could already smell someone familiar.

“Red,” Big Paul called out to that specific someone. “Come out of the grass – I can smell you!”

“Yes you can,” Red, a male red fox, did look out of the grass, though he kept his distance, given the size difference between himself and Big Paul. “So what? I am not harassing your sheep, and there are not even any lambs. Piss off!”

Big Paul frowned. “This is what I want to talk to you about,” he told Red. “Everyone and everything seem to be more on edge lately than normally; is it because of the dry spell, or not-?”

Big Paul did not finish, as a breeze brought a wisp of a scent to him – bobcat! Big Paul had his own opinion of the wildcat – unlike red foxes, bobcats were quite capable of killing even adult sheep, (if they got lucky), and this particular bobcat, after Big Paul barred her path, went after him, and almost killed him, if the sheepdog hadn’t been able to break out of her grasp and bark a frantic alarm, bringing forth his master with the gun. The bobcat got away, regardless, and Big Paul was in no hurry to relive this experience, and so he immediately whirled around, ready to bark an alarm – but there was no sign of the bobcat.

A dry branch cracked under a heavy foot – this was no fox or even wolf, let alone a wildcat. Big Paul whirled back – Red was long gone, it looked like – and came face to face with a bear.

“Hello,” he said evenly, trying to keep his voice from shaking and himself from backing away. Big Paul succeeded at this, mostly.

“A dog,” the bear – a black bear rather than brown, but it did not matter here, not particularly – did not sound impressed, for his part. “A sheepdog. Step aside, dog, for I want to eat a sheep”. Even as he was speaking, the bear was standing upright, upon his hind legs, giving himself a further height advantage – one that was uncalled and unnecessary, in Big Paul’s opinion. 

Big Paul took a deep breath. “I cannot let you do this,” he began, when the bear grabbed him with the forepaws and lifted the sheepdog up to his own eye level. 

Looking into the bear’s eyes, all but glowing from insanity and hunger, Big Pau realized that this was it, the end of the line, he was going to be eaten alive in the line of duty, and the bear’s grasp of him over the ribs was so firm that Big Paul could not even bark a warning-

The bobcat came flying out of the night, a ghost of grey and reddish-brown colors. She dug all of her claws into the bear’s shoulder and bit down with all of her disproportionate might into the bear’s ear. 

The bear roared – and unlike the bobcat, he was overly loud… or maybe it was just Big Paul’s opinions, as the infuriated giant flung him away. Still, every cloud has a silver lining, theoretically, as the sheepdog’s master appeared on the scene and discharged his gun.

The bear dropped.

On all fours.

The gun in question was loaded with small shot, more suitable for smaller animals such as foxes and bobcats, (also the occasional hare, squirrel, and gamebird, but due to his loyalty, Big Paul ignored his master’s lapses), not so much for wolves or deer, and certainly not for bears. 

To make matters worse, the bear’s hide was covered in all sorts of things, from pine needles to pine tar, and so he felt the shot, but little more – and so he charged at Big Paul’s master.

It took every bit of the sheepdog’s strength and speed to slam into the bear, only for the better to slam him away with barely a recognition before biting into the master’s gun – hard. With a fading sight, Big Paul was barely able to register-

BAH

-the herd of sheep, led by the rams, slamming hard into the bear’s flank, knocking him over and trampling him.

“Say what?” was the last thing the sheepdog thought, before he fainted.

<i>Epilogue…</i>

It was night once more. Big Paul – bandaged over the ribs – was standing watch over the sheep once more. The sheep, the entire herd, were in their enclosure once more. Red the red fox was sniffing around the neighbourhood once more.

“What happened?” Big Paul asked the fox now that the bear seemed to be gone.

“After I helped the muzzles open the sheep gate, the sheep charged and trampled the bear, distracting him long enough for the rest of the humans to arrive and deal with him,” Red replied.

“The muzzles?” Big Paul blinked as he looked around – and sure enough, there was the bobcat, flanked by two or three younger and smaller versions of her. This was not the best situation Big Paul wanted to be in.

“Bah!” one of the younger rams bleated through the fence of their enclosure. The bobcats immediately whirled around and stared at him – and the ram promptly fled from the fence.

“Listen,” Big Paul sighed. “For better or worse, I owe you one, so here’s some advice – don’t.”

The bobcats immediately whirled back to him. Unlike the ram, the sheepdog did not back down. “Listen, me and my master, we aren’t alone right now, we got back-up because of the bear attack,” he pointed, with his muzzle, at the human dwelling – lights and human voices were coming through the window, and two younger and less experienced sheepdog were playing next to it. “You won’t be able to handle everyone, especially with a sheep-“

“The summer is a bad one, and a dry one. There’s almost nothing left to eat now,” the bobcat vocally responded to Big Paul for the first time since they learned of each other, and her voice was emotionless and dry. “We have to eat or we’ll starve.”

“It is out of my paws,” Big Paul said sadly, even as he sat down onto his haunches and howled. “Ahoy there, Big Dog in the Sky! Can you help them – can you help us out, please?”

The wind picked up. It blew through the skies, bringing storm clouds with it, and then they burst with rain. The rain washed away the dust and the dirt, invigorating the plants and the small animals – frogs and toads, newts and lizards, mice and voles. When it stopped, night flowers were opening, moths were flying around, and everything felt more invigorated and lovely already. 

“…I didn’t expect this to happen,” the sheepdog told his interlocutors, but they were already gone.

<i>End?</i>

Ned Leeds is hungover (fiction) - Aug 2

 ...Will be attempting something different for August - I'll be posting fiction here as well! Here's one piece:

Ned Leeds woke-up after the S.H.I.E.L.D. New Year party. His brain hurt.

With a truly herculean effort, Ned Leeds tried to put his scattered thoughts – and brain cells – together. They still hurt, but now he vaguely remembered that he – and other people – had been battling a giant three-headed rat that got conjured… probably not by him, and what’d happened next?..

“You fainted from mental exhaustion – not that the rest of us were much better,” came the reply from a young woman of approximately Ned’s age from the next bunk over. “Hi, by the way – I’m Kora Johnson!”

“Johnson, Johnson – why does that sound familiar-?”

“Because Daisy Johnson – or Quake – is my sister?” Kora did not sound too happy in talking about her sibling.

“…Okay,” Ned thought some more. “You’re the girl in the top, thong, and sheer pants from the last night, right?”

“Absolutely!” Kora beamed very, very happily at him. “You remembered!”

“…Yes, yes I did,” Ned winced. “I mean, I do. I remember the rat-“

“That sneaked-up through a tear in reality after Wong and Coulson got into an argument over an old orgy in Las Vegas-“

Ned blinked and looked around. “Hangover?” asked an S.H.I.E.L.D. agent that Ned had never known before, while handing a glass of ‘hangover cure’ to him.

“Yes please,” Ned said gratefully, as he downed the entire glass in one swig, and things began to zoom back into focus almost straightaway; next to him, Ned could see Kora have the same experience.

“Hey, Daisy,” the younger Johnson sister said sourly; “did you take my sheer pants?”

“No, May did-“

“Ah, that’s ok then-“

“…I really hate you sometimes-“

“Did the three-headed rat bite you-?”

“No, we had to deal with the FitzSimmons’ and their time-travelling machine, as well as their counterparts from both the past and the future,” Daisy’s companion said cheerfully… before Daisy grabbed him by the collar and dragged him away.

“…What?” Ned just blinked.

“Oh, they’re just trying to figure out what their relationship is,” someone else replied from behind him and Kora. Ned turned around and blinked.

“Do I know you or do I not know you?” he asked the Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Man, aka Peter Parker. 

“Eh, it’s hard to say, so I will just comment that while Dr. Strange’s heart is in the right place, he’s still an unreliable bastard,” Peter replied in the same tone of voice – MJ had shared her stash of weed with him, and it showed – literally, since MJ was sharing it with Ned and Kora now as well.

“No, I’m not!” the sorcerer in question snapped, as he briefly looked into the infirmary. “Also, Ned – nice work with Clea.”

“Who?” Ned blinked

“The extra-dimensional witch-queen who turned herself into a multiheaded rat-monster, only to be turned into a field of tulips by you,” Dr. Strange replied brightly.

“…I was going for begonias instead, but I was that stinking drunk by then,” Ned confessed.

“…I’ll be going now,” Dr. Strange spoke, after a pause that was just a bit too long, and that was exactly what he did, leaving the four young adults by themselves for a change.

“So, what do we do now?” Ned asked no one in particular, (while secretly wondering if he and Kora really did join forces to turn the treacherous Clea into a bunch of flowers, among other thoughts of his). 

“I don’t know – enjoy the next few weeks together?” Peter Parker, aka Spider-Man, (see above), replied just as brightly, and this was what they did.

End

Quarantine entry #116 - July 15

Obligatory disclaimer: real life sucks. So, what shall we talk about, today?

I must admit that I have no idea; the last weeks have been rather exhausting and draining and depressing and worrisome, so you know what? Here is a piece of my fiction for you to enjoy. Any comments and criticisms are welcome all the same:

All of this was a long, long time ago.

This was at the beginning, and at the beginning, there was chaos. Boundless, boundless, formless, it spread from the beginning to the end, and then… something happened in it. Order was conceived in chaos, and chaos began to be divided after all – into air and land, water and flame. Life was conceived in chaos - and Mother Earth, Mother Gaea, came to be.

Mother Earth stretched itself from edge to edge, and she divided the entire other world into top and bottom halves. In addition, beneath mother, Gaea laid gloomy Tartarus, and there Mother Night, Nyx, came to be. Meanwhile Gaea gave birth to Pontus the sea, she gave birth to woodlands and mountains, fields and plains, and she gave birth to Uranus the Sky. The Sky, the mountains and the Sea were born from Gaea and they have no father.

In addition, powerful Uranus the Sky fell in love with Mother Gaea. From their union came Hemera the bright Day and the three Cyclops fathers – Arg, Steropes and Brontes – came from the union and so have the three hundred-headed and hundred-armed giants, the hecatoncheires, and finally, from that union came the six first titans and six first titanesses. Mother Gaea smiled, looking at their children, but Uranus frowned sternly, he did not like them at all. Uranus imprisoned his children in the depths of Tartarus, and from the injustice of this act, from the grief that arose from that act, from Mother Earth's salty maternal tears, a new metal, adamantium, was born – the metal that was greater than all other metals.

In addition, the three eldest Cyclops – Arg, Steropes and Brontes – told their brothers and sisters:

"We can, o our brothers' hecatoncheires and titans, o our sisters-titanesses, forge from the adamantium metal a sickle that will bring down our father, Uranus. But who will wield it?"

However, the other children of Uranus and Gaea were silent, only the youngest of titans, the fair-haired Chronus, said finally:

"I. I will take it."

Therefore, the first Cyclops-blacksmiths began to forge the sickle from the adamantium. Sparks and shards of metal spread from their first forge throughout Tartarus. All-seeing Night, Nyx the Dark looked at this deed, smiling her mocking smile, and she breathed upon these sparks and shards, and from them the other Cyclops, smaller and weaker than their three forefathers (but looking just like them), came to be, and from the smoke and the stench Erebus, the eternal gloom of Tartarus, was born.

The Cyclops, children of Gaea and Uranus, worked long and worked hard. Their children – the lesser Cyclops – aided and assisted them. Their brothers and sisters looked at this in wonder and marvelled, only the young titan, Chronus, looked at the creation of the lesser Cyclops with envy, since he did not know how to create as the Cyclops did. However, no one saw this, only Nyx the Dark, herself invisible and inaudible, saw this - and she stayed silent.

In addition, the Cyclops finished their creation, and with a bow, they gave to it to Chronus. Chronus took it silently - and his face was gloomier than the face of Erebus, and he went upward from Tartarus. Rocks lay in heaps on his way - Chronus cut them with his sickle, and the first avalanches fell upon Mother Earth. Tangles of everlasting roots blocked his path – Chronus cut through them with his sickle, and the first dead trees fell onto Mother Earth. Paths of underground rivers lay in his paths – Chronus cut through them with his sickle, and rivers dried out on Mother Earth, and the first drought came forth into the world.

In addition, Chronus came into the middle-world, he straightened out to his full, titanic height, he yelled with the full power of his voice, calling their father to battle. In addition, Uranus frowned, and daylight faded, and thunderstorms and blizzards, winds, storms and clouds, came to battle with Chronus. However, Chronus swung his sickle once, cutting the foul weather apart with it, and Chronus waved his sickle twice - and the first rainbow was born into the world, blood of Uranus was spilled, straight from his cloven body, and his blood came into the middle-world.

This blood fell into Pontus the Sea, and white foam boiled in the sea, and from it came the fair Aphrodite, the powerful goddess of love. She danced on the waves of the sea – and the first love came into the world.

This blood fell onto Mother Earth, and Mother- Earth conceived from Uranus for the last time: she gave birth to nymphs - dryads, hamadryads, and all the others, and she gave birth to giants, the last, passionate theomachists, she it gave birth to three Furies, 3 winged virgins, Aphrodite's terrible sisters.

In addition, some of Uranus' blood was spilled into Tartarus - but at that, time from there emerged powerful titans, and beautiful titanesses, and here they beheld Aphrodite's wonderful dance, and blood boiled in them from desire, and blood boiled from desire in Chronus. However, his blood was poisoned by his envy, he waved his sickle – Mother Earth, Gaea, shuddered, and the exit from Tartarus was brought down - neither the powerful hecatoncheires nor the artful smiths the Cyclops could leave from there. In addition, Mother Earth said to the three Furies:

"You there fly there, I do not know where, and you bring here Nemesis!"

The Furies flew unseen and unnoticed by the celebrating titans; the Furies flew to the western edge of the middle-earth, there, where the kingdom of Night was located. In addition, they exclaimed in loud voices:

"Mother Dark Night, you release Nemesis into our world!"

Nyx the Night said nothing to them, but only smiled. In addition, the Furies exclaimed once again:

"Mother Dark Night, release Nemesis to help us!"

Nyx the Night still said nothing, only smiled. In addition, the Furies exclaimed for the third time:

"Mother Dark Night, by the command of Mother Earth, release Nemesis to aid us – to punish perfidious Chronus!"

Nyx the night smiled for the third time, she only clapped her palms - Nemesis, the daughter of Night from the blood of Uranus that was spilled into Tartarus, came to the edge of the world. Then Nemesis flapped her eagle wings, she flew after the three sisters to the middle-earth.

In addition, there was a celebratory feast – as wide as the entire world. Aphrodite-Love was dancing throughout the entire world, wherever she only looked, wherever she would just flap her fair wing, [new, unprecedented life came to be – the oceanids and the nereids, the phaeacans and the centaurs, the satyrs and the fauns, the tree-folk, Lapiths, and the Amazons, and many, many others. Yet, as titanesses and titans danced Aphrodite's dance, they too gave birth to many new other titans - Helios and Selene, Astraia and Eos, and many, many others.

Chronus danced, and he danced with his sister Rhea, the favorite of their mother Gaea. However, invisible, Nemesis-Retribution flew by him in the guise of a cuckoo; she sat on a hill before Chronus and cried:

"Chronus, Chronus, you are powerful, you rise above the clouds, as the head of Uranus fell off, so will yours!"

Chronus shook and the Furies were already here as well! Sister Alecto was disguised as an eagle owl, she sat on the left side of the titans, and she started to bellow:

"Hoo, hoo, boo, boo! All earthly is only dust and ashes! You were carried upwards by wind, by wind you will fall back into Tartarus, hoo!"

Sister Megara was disguised as a black raven, she sat on the right side of the titan and she cawed:

"Caw, caw you have a flaw! You conquered Uranus, and before long your son will conquer you, caw!"

Sister Tisiphone was disguised as a black woodpecker; she sat on top of Chronus' head and began to drum it! The titan's mind grew dark, and fear with envy boiled in his veins, darkened his eyes, yet alas - no one saw this, no one heard it: Aphrodite of the sea, the white swan, has blocked everyone's ears, covered everyone's eyes!

In addition, Chronus, the conqueror of Uranus, went mad. In addition, here Rhea came to show him their eldest daughter – Chronus swallowed her. Afterward he swallowed their other children, two sons and two other daughters. In addition, a third son was born to Rhea. In addition, here to her came the whisper:

"Rhea, you can keep your last child! Hide him on Crete, in the mountains of Gaea with their ancient magic! You can ask the local nymphs, the nurses of the Curetes, for aid! Take care to save your last child from Chronus!"

In addition, Rhea listened to that whisper, and she heeded this whisper's advice. Maybe, it was indeed a whisper of Mother Earth, who wanted to help her favorite, and possibly that it was the whisper of Nemesis. But Rhea obeyed that whisper, and she hid her last child in the Cretan mountains, and to her husband she gave a fake, a stone covered in diapers - and no one saw that, dark night has hid that, and Chronus then fell asleep, tired, contented.

But people say that Nemesis, in the guise of a swallow, flew away from Chronus' palace, she flew off and came to the cave of Zeus, son of Chronus and Rhea, grandson of Uranus and Gaea. Was that so or not - no one knows, but Zeus, son of Chronus, grew in his cave not at a daily, but an hourly rate. In addition, after growing up, he said:

"Not for a son of Chronus to sit like a rock in the cave – time for me to go and meet my father –Chronus, to look at other gods, to show off myself."

He said that - and disappeared, dissolved in the dark blue of the Cretan skies. Soon a new cupbearer appeared in Chronus' palace, ever smiling, with locks as white as clouds and with eyes the color of celestial dark blue. With a white-toothed smile, he gave wine to the guests of Chronus, to titanesses and to titans, and he reached Chronus as well. Recklessly did the titan drink the dark wine – and trembling with his entire body he spat - and spat the stone out. The stone was spat far away – it flew through one-half of the world, it fell accurately into the world's middle, and came right through the middle-world: it went through Hades, the land of the dead, and the dark Tartarus, and this stone, Omphalos, the navel of the world, reached even the great Abyss!

In addition, Chronus, maddened by Nemesis and the three Furies, drank again. Trembling with his entire body - he spat out two of his eldest sons, Poseidon and Hades. They landed flew away – Hades landed in the land of the dead, Poseidon – in the realm of Nereus, the ocean.

In addition, the lunatic finished drinking the remainders of that cup. His innards shuddered, he spat out his daughters, he collapsed in unconsciousness - and off his arms and his head departed the Furies, the dark birds, they circled once around him, and following Nemesis, they left the palace. Therefore, no one saw the fall of the daughters of Chronus. Of Demeter as she fell among clear and wide fields of wheat, of Hestia - into the burning center of the palace, of Hera - straight in arms of Zeus.

The mighty son of Chronus, Zeus, grabbed Hera tightly, and from that unexpected weight, he stamped his foot - throughout the world that rumble was heard, it reached even the underworld. That rumble, their hands rose as numerous as rivers, roused the powerful hecatoncheires and they cleared their way from Tartarus, created by Omphalos! They went into the light, and after them came their brothers the Cyclops, the blacksmiths of underground world, and they brought their nephews their gifts.

To the eldest son, to Hades, came the helmet of the invisibility: whoever bears this helmet is invisible to the gods, and people, and monsters. To the middle son, to Poseidon, came the trident, the cold lightning: the trident goes to one side - sea will boil with storms, and if it goes another side - the calm will fall onto the sea. However, to the youngest son, to Zeus, son of Chronus came the royal sceptre – the deafening thunderbolt, intolerable for all in the terrestrial and celestial worlds. Only the subterranean Cyclops and the powerful hecantocheires, only Nyx the night and Erebus the gloom do not fear it.

In addition, Zeus waved the thunderbolt and Chronus fell from his mountain palace, his brothers, who fled from his palace, were brought down further along the road as Chronus fell downwards. Once more rose the hands of the hecatoncheires, they grabbed their brothers the titans, they took away them down into Tartarus - to the end of time, with the songs of Nemesis-Retribution singing in their ears: "What you reap is what you sow!"

Three times then flew Nemesis in the guise of cuckoo around Zeus and Hera. At their feet, then grew a copper tree with silver leaves and gold apples - whether Gaea, Mother Earth grew it, or whether the Cyclops had tried once again. Zeus the hero accepted this miracle-tree as his and Hera's gift. And people said, that before their wedding night Hera ate one such apple - and from her union with Zeus came Hephaestus, the first blacksmith and the expert of all the ores, and Ares, the first soldier, who sent numerous souls to uncle Hades into the land of the Dead, and Eris, the goddess of Discord. That is another tale...

...Well, this is it for now. See you all soon! 

Quarantine entry #113 - July 12

Obligatory disclaimer: real life sucks, so let us talk about ‘The Old Guard’ instead with as much of spoilers avoided as possible.

It is a good film, and an enjoyable one; one that is not too strongly affiliated with DC or Marvel or whatever. The cast is good and the plot is, yes, ‘borrowed’ from the original comic series, but is still delivered well enough.

More precisely, ‘The Old Guard’ is a good, enjoyable film. Does it have flaws? Yes, it is not exactly bees’ knees all the way, but it certainly is not anywhere as bad as ‘Cats-2019’, ‘Dolittle-2020’ or ‘Artemis Fowl-2020’ were. Even ‘Like a Boss’ (also 2020) is almost better than those films, and ‘Like a Boss’ is quite insipid itself.

On a more detailed look… yes, ‘The Old Guard’ is very reminiscent of the ‘Highlander’ franchise, though, again, both the movie script writers and the original comic writers did their best to also put in plenty of differences from the latter, so ‘The Old Guard’ does come off as quite original despite the overall similarities between the two. It also ends with a cliffhanger, which means a positive, optimistic note for the movie franchise’s future, but you know? Plenty of failed films, from the 1990s onwards, ended with those as well, (such as ‘The Mario Brothers’ film from the aforementioned 90s). Anything else?

…Will I be watching any sequels for ‘The Old Guard’ should they come out, (and there isn’t another COVID-19-level emergency around)? Well, yes. It is certainly an enjoyable film, and if the sequels will be just as good, I will download them as well. Anything else?

Sadly, this is it, so instead I am giving you a piece of my original fiction instead. Here it goes:

The chase was long and very lively. The Dilophosaurus, which became independent only a little while ago - until recently, he had lived with his mother, and fed and hunted alongside her, but now it was time for him to become an independent grown-up - was fleeing quite quickly from a herd of Anchisaurus, a species of pro-sauropod dinosaurs. At this moment in time - it was the early Jurassic, around 200 MYA - the pro-sauropods were only humble forerunners of the great reptilian giants that would arise on the planet 50 million years in the future from now, but speaking of 'now'? The Anchisaurus herd numbered easily a dozen dinosaurs, and the Dilophosaurus was on his own.

...True, under normal circumstances, the situation would not have been too difficult; the numbers would not have mattered: a Dilophosaurus would ambush the pro-sauropods with their attack and the dim-witted herbivores would flee, while the theropods feasted. The Dilophosaurus of this story did exactly that, but the Anchisaurus herd by accident fled in his direction, and now he had to run away instead.

At the edge of his sight the Dilophosaurus, (unlike the later theropods - Allosaurus, Tyrannosaurus - the Dilophosaurus' eyes were located more to the sides of the head), noted some movement there and instinctively jumped in this direction.

He made it just in time. A pack of Megapnosaurus, smaller distant cousins of the Dilophosaurus, appeared on the scene: apparently, the nominal pack leader tried to ambush the bigger carnivore, while the latter was distracted, and the rest of Megapnosaurus followed... The leader had missed; it had only stirred up the rest of the pack in vain, and confused the Anchisaurus even more: the pro-sauropod herd sharply shifted the angle of their race and fled in a different direction...

In addition, the Megapnosaurus looked around and were confronted by the Dilophosaurus, which had recovered from his fright, listened to the noises in his stomach, and realized that he was hungry - and therefore angry. Megapnosaurus numbered many, Dilophosaurus - only one, but he was the bigger and stronger dinosaur here, and in the early Jurassic, when the dinosaurs were only beginning to evolve into the upcoming lords of the planet, this was enough. The Dilophosaurus charged at the nearest Megapnosaurus and tore into it literally, eating it while the smaller theropod was technically still alive. The remaining pack of the smaller carnivores fled...

...Many millions of years later, when the paleontologists, who were running the dig, made a discovery - petrified tracks of pro-sauropods, and of one or two species of theropods, plus theropod, (of single or several specimens?), bones scattered all over the territory in question. The discussion about just what had happened here went for a long time...

End

This is it for now. Comments? Criticisms?