Optimist

Comatose Kingdom (High Fantasy Dreamland)

How do you define "high casual". Just wondering.

Adventure and Fight scenes

If you are a villainous mastermind, i still want to be a henchman sometimes.

Adventure and Fight scenes

It was what I assumed, though I am game for anything with a lot of fighting. All my one-on-ones are love stories, so I have a lot of aggression to let out.

Hemlock Grove (LyricsKIss and I)

Genesis was quite an unusual name, but then Shadrack was used to unusual names. Gypsy children were often saddled with weird monikers. He had a cousin named Jedi. He took the offered hand, noting how soft it was. This was obviously not a farm girl, since this hand had never seen a days work, judging from its lack of callouses.

"I'm Shadrack, but call me Shad. Nice to meet you." He tried to ignore his mother, knowing she was probably giving him the look. It would be convenient if she was not here at all, but he was not so lucky. He released her hand and took another sip of his coffee. He bet she was a smoker at well, from the yellowing of her finger tips. He did not mind. His mother smoked a lot, and he smoked to be social, though never without a reason. It was not that he did not like cigarettes, but that he had never developed the addiction most people develop. He wondered if it had something to do with his wolf, because he did not seem to become addicted to anything he tried, and between his mother and her lovers, he had tried quite a bit.

"Ya, I just pulled in last night." He did not add that he was lived in an RV, or that he lived with his mother. None of that seemed terribly important at the moment. "Got a place just out of town. Your a regular here?" If she was, he planned to be too.

Lavender Green (kittenlover and I)

Bert could not believe his ears at her pronouncement, but was game, though he was half a head shorter than the other fellow and not nearly as muscled. He knew something that the other fellow did not know. Bert was light weight boxing champ at his university. He might not be able to match Bobby's muscles, but he could probably out maneuver him.

The two combatants circled each other for a moment, but did not shake hands. It was not that sort of fight. It was the kill or be killed sort, at least at Bobby's end. Bobby swung wild hay-makers, which Bert avoided easily, and then dove at him, trying to grab him. Bert knew this was trouble. He was no wrestler. He dodged to one side and stuck his leg out, tripping Bobby. Bobby flew into the ground face first, before coming up with a red face. By now, a few people from the dance were outside watching.

Bobby dove at Bert again, avoiding the same trick twice, but Bert managed to punch him in the kidneys a few times, and then in the face, as he turned around. The fight progressed predictably, with Bobby growing more and more tired, until Bert finally was able to clock him with an upper cut. The blow sent Bobby backwards on his butt, and he did not get up again for a good five minutes.

Bert turned to Rose, his shirt half untucked and one sleeve of his new suit half-way off, but uninjuried. "Miss Tyler, can I drive you home?" His cousin Sally was one of the onlookers and rushed up to make sure he was O.K. She hugged him for a moment, and then looked at his suit coat. "Awe Bert, you looked so good in that suit."

Lavender Green (kittenlover and I)

Bert could not understand what Rose was so nervous about. After all, they were just talking. Then again, he did not know her father. "I'm Bertrum MacDonald, but you can call me Bert. I'm from a couple of counties over. I came to take my cousin Sally to the dance. As to talking to much, or talking out of turn, don't give it a second though. After all, I'm the one that spoke to you first." He touched her shoulder in reassurance. "Now did you want to stay out here awhile, or go back in and dance?"

A tall, muscular fellow, wearing a white buttoned down shirt and blue jeans came out of the dance hall, to see someone hitting on his girlfriend. Whoever he was, he was obviously not a local. A local would have know to stay away from Bobby Lee's girl. "Hey there, get your hands off my girl." He growled, swinging a punch at the back of Bert's head. Bert heard him coming and managed to duck most of the blow, before turning around and holding up his hands. "Woe there big fella! I was just seeing if the young lady was alright." Bobby grunted and held his hands up in a fighting stance. "Bullshit, you was flirting with my Rose."

Hemlock Grove (LyricsKIss and I)

The sharp knife of a short life.

The song reminded Shadrack of his father, every time he heard it. Despite his father's drinking, and general abuse when he was drunk, Shadrack missed him. He did not cry, or break down, but he felt pain in the pit of his stomach and looked back over at his mother for a moment. She was staring at him knowing, while the fat manager drone on and on about something.

Shadrack was painfully aware of the blonde to his left, and working on what to say to her. His philosophy was to hit on every attractive girl he saw. Sure, he usually got shot down, but occasionally he did not. He figured he had a ten percent chance, which was good enough for a try.

The jukebox fell silent for a moment, and a trucker limped over to it and took out a quarter. Soon Dolly Parton's dulcet tones filled the dinner.

If I should stay I would only be in your way.

Shadrack hated that song. In fact he hated most country music. He listened to old British rock bands, like the Who. Still, country music was a part of so many of the small towns they passed through that he had gotten used to it, to some extent.

Florence came by and refilled the coffee mug he had brought with him from the table. He put in three creamers and four sugars, before stirring it around. The coffee changed color as he did so. He took a long drink, and decided on his line of attack. The girl was eating the bloodiest steak he had ever seen. In general, he liked his steak rare, but not quite that rare. The wolf inside him did not like it if the steak was not a bit bloody.

"Hey, you take your steak the same way I do; with a fighting chance at recovery." He knew it was a lame line, as most of his were, but if she was at all interested it would not matter. He shrugged mentally. He was used to being shot down and did not care much if this was one of those times. There would be other pretty girls in this little town, though this one certainly was a knockout.

Fiddler's Green

I took a picture of her then and there, with her hand on the child's grave, before moving off into the rest of the graveyard. As I went, I snapped pictures; Doug McKenzie 1859-1897, Anna McKenzie 1861-1911, Alistair MacDonald 1851-1901. There were MacDonalds everywhere, so I doubted that he was my relative. Still, I paused to touch his grave, before moving on. Seth MacFarland was next, an infant grave. How sad. I imagined the grief of the parents. With all the graves I wondered what kind of life they had lead, and how they had died. Some of it would undoubtedly be in the parish records, but by the looks of the church, those records might be stored somewhere else. I would do my research and come up with a few paragraphs to go along with the gravestone markings. Possibly I could locate an old tin type of some of the occupants. It was part of what made my books so popular. I always wrote paragraphs to go with my photographs, chronicling my thoughts about the photos. I would probably only use one or two photos of the grave yard, though I took a couple of rolls, but those few photos would be powerful.

I asked Alice "Do you have relatives buried here?"

The morning sun was up now, shining on the old stained glass windows of the church. I photographed it next, first from a ways away, circling it on all sides, and then closer for details. In doing so, I quite forgot about Alice for a moment. The old building was so sad; a house of worship abandoned by its worshipers. I wondered if the community church simply died due to a lack of younger families, or if the community itself shrank over time, as people moved to larger cities for work. It was all more research to be done. Tomorrow would be spent at the local library.

I approached the front door of the church, to find it boarded up. I circled until I found another entrance, which was miraculously open. Pulling open the ancient door was like pulling open a piece of history. I remembered to turn to Alice. "Better stay here. I don't know how safe the building is." I was not to worried for myself. I'd been in war zones before.

The entire church, besides the sacristy, was the sanctuary. Morning light flooded through the stained glass windows, as startled birds flew as I entered the sanctuary. Without thinking I cross myself. I grew up Catholic, tough I am Lutheran now. The pews and floor were covered with a century or so of dust and plants grew out of some cracks. I moved around carefully, taking pictures of the stained glass windows. There was Jesus feeding the five thousand above the entry way. It was a beautiful old piece of art and would make a fine picture, though this door would have to be boarded up before I left the island. I did not want curious tourists disturbing the old church, both for the safety of the stained glass, and for their own safety. The floor creaked beneath my feet, reminding me how precarious older buildings could be. I moved lightly and carefully through the aisles, looking for the best vantage points.

Fiddler's Green

No spoilers.. I will watch the video afterwards. :)

Fiddler's Green

I will just have to leave you wondering what he will think, because I am off to bed. Beautifully written, by the way. (There is that word again)