#it's joy and exhileration brought on by beauty

[queenlucythevaliant]

Northern Lights

.

I heard a voice that cried, “Balder the Beautiful is dead, is dead!” 

.

Who knows what to call the lonely exhilaration of gazing out into a bright Northern sky? Who can name it? 

Jill could.

It was the same feeling that came to her at the teetering edge of a cliff at the end of the world. The same feeling as when she said her goodbyes to Puddleglum and Scrubb before they freed the prince. It was the same feeling that engulfed her now, sitting in the professor’s library with a volume of poetry before her. 

.

The wild northern wastes were well named: utterly wild, perfectly desolate, and terribly Northern. 

It was lonely there and often cold, but the sky was an endless whorl of gales and gray clouds. The stones were indigo under the pale winter sunlight, and at sunset they glowed a soft gold, as though lit from within. The gorges and moors lay before her, and Jill loved them for their vastness and their distance. Little grew in that country, but that which did was full of vigor. The grass was short and coarse. Every tree was victorious. 

On a still, deep breathing winter night, Jill lay on her back beneath a covering sky. It seemed beautiful to her, rich and strong and glorious. Her eyes drank in the breadth of it until her tears began to blind her. Yet even then, she still couldn’t look away.

She felt bigger here in the wastes, like the landscape. Stronger, wider. The further she walked, the more she felt herself stretch out. One of these days, maybe, she would catch hold of herself at the edge and tug, and Jill Pole would open up clear as the Northern sky. 

.

And through the misty air passed the mournful cry of sunward sailing cranes.

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The thing that surprised Jill most about the battle with the serpent was this: there wasn’t any yelling. Always, it seemed, whenever she read stories about people fighting with swords, the combatants would let loose some guttural yell before their blows fell. They would scream and writhe in pain as they died. They would shout instructions to their fellows, “Look out!” or “Hit him there!” But the whole affair with the serpent passed with very little noise. 

The poison-green coil constricted around the prince; he raised his arms and got clear, struck the serpent hard, and then Scrubb and Puddleglum dispatched the creature with heavy, hacking blows. The monster died writhing, but not screaming. And then it was over. 

The thing that surprised Jill most about the moments before battle was, of course, the noise. She could hear her own heartbeat in her ears. She couldn’t stop listening to her own breathing. Every footstep rang out like a gong, and any words exchanged rang with a kind of finality that made them sound louder than anything. 

“You are of high courage,” Rilian told her when it was over. 

Yet the thing in Jill’s chest just then didn’t feel like courage. It was a deep breath, a plunge, and a release. It was loud and quiet all at once, till she was standing, blinking in the night air as snowballs whizzed round her, and maybe that was something like courage after all. 

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And now, there was a stirring in her chest as she reread the words on the page. Sing no more / O ye bards of the North / Of Vikings and of Jarls! / Of the days of the Eld / preserve the freedom only / nor the deeds of blood! 

She thought of grief. Of freedom. 

The lonely ache in her belly grew stronger. She felt herself uplifted into the huge regions of sky that were just beyond those cliffs, weightless as the breath beneath her buoyed her up, further, further…

.

When she saw Caspian up close, Jill thought that he looked like the sort of person who was meant to live in a castle. A silly thought, perhaps, since she knew he was a king– only she wasn’t thinking of Cair Paravel. No, Jill was picturing the ruins of an old British castle she’d visited once on holiday. She still remembered how the stonework had loomed over her, all towering arches and crumbling walls. That was where Caspian seemed to belong. He had an air of ancient tragedy about him. 

When Rilian disappeared, all things had wept but one. The serpent coiled beneath the earth and flicked its forked tongue, spewing poison. 

Now, the king half rose to bless his son. He whispered a few words as he caressed Rilian’s cheek, words meant only for those beloved ears. Jill saw Caspian’s lips move and wondered what a man like that could possibly say, when time ran so short. 

.

They laid him in his ship, with horse and harness, as on a funeral pyre. Odin placed a ring upon his finger, and whispered in his ear.

.

Jill furtively took Myths of the Northmen and held it up to the professor with a question in her eyes. She was still shy around him and Miss Plummer, though she wished she wasn’t. 

“Would you like to take that with you?”

“...Please.”

.

It takes a certain kind of person to be exhilarated by the heights. You’ve got to love vastness more than you fear falling. 

.

They walked to the train station with an autumn wind blowing hard, and though Jill couldn’t fathom why, she turned and saw Lucy grinning, fierce and joyful– grinning and reaching a hand out towards her friend.

Jill reached back and grabbed it. “What will you do, once we’re back in Narnia?” she asked. 

The wind blew harder. The feeling of anticipation grew and grew, until it felt so big that she couldn’t dream of containing it. And there was Lucy, holding Jill’s hand and laughing like it was easy.

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Preserve the freedom only, not the deeds of blood!

.

The second time Jill went to Narnia, she found herself not at its edge, but at its end. 

The thing about the Norse apocalypse is: it feels believable. It doesn’t reach beyond earth’s horizon to pull down hope beyond hope. It’s only the kind of courage that hopeless humans have: you are going to die, so you might as well die bravely. 

They found the last king of Narnia bound to a tree. His eyes were faintly red from crying, and his wrists and ankles red from the coarseness of his fetters. 

In the Norse myths, Loki broke free of his fetters at the end of the world. He escaped to the helm of a ship made from the fingernails of the dead.

The last king of Narnia fell forward onto the ground when Eustace cut his bonds. Jill crouched down beside him and watched as he rubbed feeling back into his legs. He wasn’t so much older than her, she thought. Jill was sixteen years old; the last king of Narnia could not be older than twenty-two. 

In the myths, the gods were ancient, hewn from the bodies of giants old as the earth. 

Jill put out a hand and helped the last king of Narnia to his feet. Not for the last time, she shivered. Something deep inside her (deeper than her chest, than her heart, than the marrow of her bones, deep as her soul, deeper) was singing an elegy and she didn’t know why, or how, or where it had come from. The king clutching her hand, who could have been her older brother, would have no heir.

Yet when he asked, “Will you come with me?” Jill could only smile. 

“Of course,” she said. “It’s you we’ve come to help.”

.

And the voice forever cried, "Balder the Beautiful is dead, is dead!"

.

“This really is Narnia at last,” murmured Jill. The springtime wood had little in common with the wintry lands she had traveled the last time she was here– but it awakened the same feelings of Northernness in her chest. 

Their party may as well have been the only people in the world, for how isolated their little wooden path seemed. Yet it wasn’t lonely, really, cocooned in all that green with the wind in the leaves and the primroses nodding and blue of the sky peeking through above. 

Jewel told stories about what ordinary life was like when there was peace here. As he spoke, Jill could almost hear the trees' voices speaking out of the living past, whispering, stay, stay. She was caught up to a great height, looking down across a rich, lovely plain full of woods and waters and cornfields, which spread away and away till it got thin and misty from distance. 

“Oh Jewel–” Jill said with a dreamy sigh, “wouldn’t it be lovely if Narnia just went on and on– like what you say it has been?”

She needn’t be a queen, as Susan and Lucy had been, but Jill would’ve liked to stay. She would've liked it all to stay, if it could. She might have been a woodmaid in a place like this: with the turn of the seasons, the swaying trees, swords into plowshares. Oh, if only she could stay!

Ahead, the last king of Narnia was softly singing a marching song. Jill tilted her head back and let warm shafts of sun caress her face. 

.

I saw the pallid corpse of the dead sun borne through the Northern sky.

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“So,” said the last king of Narnia, “Narnia is no more.”

He tried to send them back. Jill shook her head. It was very loud and very quiet. “No, no, no, we won’t. I don’t care what you say. We’re going to stick by you whatever happens, aren’t we Eustace?”

They couldn’t go back anyway. Neither would they flee, not south across the mountains nor North into the great wide wastes. No, they would stay. They slept in a holly grove on the edge of ruin, waiting for the bonfires to light.

Jill slept fitfully, but in between she dreamed. She was high up in the air, buffeted by clouds and pierced by shafts of silver sunlight. 

.

They all died, in the myths. Jill knew that. It seemed beautiful and brave when she read it in her book, tucked away safe in the Professor’s library. It was terrifying now– and yet it was beautiful and brave still.

The dogs came bounding up, every one of them, running up to the king and his men with their tails wagging. One of them leapt at Jill and licked her face, tongue roughly lapping up the sweat and tears that had dried on her cheeks. 

“Show us how to help, show us how, how, how!” the dogs were barking, almost ebullient in their enthusiasm. Jill bit back a sob. How lovely, she thought. How terribly beautiful. How dreadfully brave. 

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So perish the old Gods!

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The white rock gleamed like a moon in the darkness when Jill finally reached it. She ran back to it alone, her hands shaking, while her friends stayed forward with their gleaming swords and Jewel’s indigo horn.

The while rock gleamed like the moon. Jill’s first shot flew wide and landed in the soft grass. But she had another arrow on her string the next instant. It was speed that mattered, not aim. Speed, and turning aside when she cried, so as not to drip tears on her bowstring.

The white rock gleamed. In the myths, a wolf devoured the moon. Peter’s wolf, slain many thousand years ago in this world, opened his jaw wide and darkness fell over everything.

Her next arrow found its mark. After that, she lost track. She pulled, and she prayed that her hands kept still another minute. 

The unique thing–maybe the appealing thing–about the Norse myths, was that they told men to serve gods who were admittedly fighting with their backs to the wall and would certainly be defeated in the end. Jill let loose another arrow, felt the white rock at her back, and she knew that the clawing fear–beauty–bravery deep in her gut was the same feeling that she felt on the heights. The same feeling, but a different face. You’ve got to love vastness more than you fear falling. 

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“I feel in my bones,” said Poggin, “that we shall all, one by one, pass through that dark door before morning. I can think of a hundred deaths that I would rather have died.”

“It is indeed a grim door,” said Tirian. “It is more like a mouth.” 

“Oh, can’t we do anything to stop it,” said Jill. Better to be dashed to the ground than it was to be devoured. 

“Nay, fair friend,” said Jewel. “It may be for us the door to Aslan’s country and we sup at his table tonight.”

A hand tangled itself in her hair and started to pull. Jill braced herself hard, for a moment, until her strength gave out. She was standing on the edge of a high, Northern cliff. She took another step, and fell.

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Perhaps when the moment comes, our bite will prove better than our howls. If not, we shall have to confess that two millennia of Christianity have not yet brought us to the level of the Stoics and Vikings. For the worst (according to the flesh) that a Christian need face is to die in Christ and rise in Christ; some were content to die, and not to rise, with Father Odin.

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The world inside the stable was beautiful. It made Jill’s chest ache in all the loveliest ways. 

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Build it again, O ye bards, fairer than before!

#okayyyy so #i've been down the tolkien/lewis/norse mythology rabbit hole lately #it's a lot #but i've been picking at this piece in my head for a while now #which is more a rhapsody than anything else #but another for my narnia/classic lit sequence of pieces #the quotes are mostly pulled from Longfellow's Tegners Drapa translation #which Jack discusses in Surprised by Joy as one of the works that inspired feelings of joy and 'Northernness' in his boyhood #there's also a Weight of Glory quote in there #(paraphrased) #and one from the intro to Joy Gresham's book on the 10 Commandments that Jack wrote #(that's that last passage in italics) #i'm not really sure i was trying to make a point with this so much as just. explore that feeling of northernness #bc really northernness is two things #it's joy and exhileration brought on by beauty #and it's that beautiful hopeless courage when faced with unwinnable battles #and i love how intertwined those two things are for lewis #and let's be honest for me too #so that's what this is #hope it holds together okay #narnia #chapter one #night under narnia #dying of thirst #pontifications and creations #leah stories

[endthedrugwarnowdotorg]

i wish i was kidding when i say that i am terrified to be in this world without you there is nothing ok about my existence you are such a perfectly strange not at all typical human & i am so lucky to have you to have had you all to myself all this time i want nothing more than to get back into our lil piece of heaven where we were the only people that meant anything to each other i would trade all the things that i do not possess to get back there & there is no reason that we should be unhappy neither of us deserve anything less than pure joy & thats the kind of thing that you have to stand up for your right to have in this world but you do deserve it & youve already done more than enough to warrent it did you know that? Did you know that you are one of the most deserving humans of happiness? you have always brought me happiness you have always made my life a magical experience & i know you have all these plans & i will never again try to stop you from executing those plans Im sorry i thought you were someone you were not please dont ever let me describe you into a corner i have never had anything but good things to say about you especially not to those who count & it doesnt matter this whole world means nothing to me without you there is no beauty no magic no exhileration because you are not here to assure me that im where im supposed to be i have never been someone who thought that i belonged until i met you im sorry if i took you for granted i will never again do that please tell me that you will try to find me because i am weak & scared & totally prime to fall into the cracks & i will never be happy again without you i know you feel the same way i know that you might not beleive you deserve all the goodness in the world but you do & you dont need to think about fair or whats good for other people you just need to be back in my gaze & i will help you with all the legal crap & with anything you need help with everything falls into place when were apart imaginewhat it would be like, with our newfoundstregth when we are together again this is genuniely something i cannot send you over the internet or over a psychic connection i cannot think straight because i havent been expressing my thoughts to you in so long everything is gone the rvs all those scary things i think i imagined all those beautiful memories that i need to not be as real as they feel right now all of that is so beautiful & im so grateful for every moment but its nothing compared to what we could be experiencing together i dont know what stopped us or what seperated us i cannot even remember all i know is that i want you back and i dont want to not remember any of it but i need to have more you in my life i cant breathe im losing it i have held it together for so long its starting to become a serious issue god, please send me a sign some path way to lead me back my love. all these suggestions due to my stupidity, my bad carl, have really got me lost i cant imagine that cody is doing that well without me but i have to hope that he is ok because everyday that passes makes me more terrified of how he is hes always ok but hes never been away from me in his entire memory do you think hes ok? i cant imagine that i have anything else i should do other than try to get back to the house again tomorrowits just so fucking cold ill just have to hope that he is somewhere with someone that can bring him to me

[spotofimagines]

About Time ~ Calum Chambers

A/N: I don’t know when this is set, I just made up a match scenario so don’t go looking for details! This is for @footballffbarbiex​‘s writing challenge based off tv and film (go check it out, it’s lasting all year!). I watched Harry Potter recently so took vague inspo from Neville and Harry about halfway into this scene. Also, a moment of silence to remember Cal’s awful cat drawing.... Enjoy :)

Warnings: injury but no detail - reader is female

Summary: Winning a match in that sort of fashion will give Calum the confidence boost with you he’s been waiting for.

It was the biggest win of the season. A trophy win. A derby win. A penalty and a 30-yard screamer scored by the strikers for the team. A match saving tackle by the man of the hour. It was a big win alright.

Calum had gone down pretty hard from that tackle late on in the match and stumbled about for the last couple minutes of extra time. To keep the story short, his knee was well and truly busted up, but by god was he going to celebrate this win with his teammates.

When the hugging and jumping was over and the physio had dragged him to get sorted out properly, Calum had his mind set on one person and one person only. You. He wanted to find you in this moment like he wanted little else in his life. A congratulations from his friend was ready and waiting, but given the 90 minutes he’d just played and the confidence coursing through him, he’d had a slight change to that set of plans.

He’d tried a few times already to do what he was going to do today but he had always chickened out before he would, too scared to see anything change between you for the worse. But as he steamed through the halls of the Emirates, feet travelling without being told to, he didn’t even think once about the consequences. He was going to do this and he was going to do this now.

Speeding slightly too fast round a corner, Calum had become the focus of someone else.

“Cal, you alright?” Rob stuck his hand out to the side to catch Calum’s arm and attention at the sight of him darting his eyes around like a meerkat.

“Never better. I feel like I can spit fire.” Adrenaline was still running through Calum like crazy. There wouldn’t be anything in the world that could stop him now. Or at least for the next few minutes or so, before the joy of the win will wash away a bit and the proper pain of his injury will set in. But until then, he was a man on a mission whilst he knew it was something he could actually do instead of backing out like the last times.

“You haven’t seen Y/N have you?” The excited smile on his face shone inquisitively as he asked his friend the question, in dire need to find you as soon as possible.

“Y/N?” Rob repeated a little confused, slightly shaking his head no. What could be so urgent that he would be this desperate to find his best friend? “Why-”

“I’m mad for her. Think it’s about time I told her.”

Rob could barely register getting interrupted before he was watching Calum jog off down the corridor, a happy-go-lucky grin on his face that told Rob he really couldn’t care what else was going on in the stadium, with the fans, with the players, with anyone. It was only you. He had to find you.

Turning back around to his girlfriend, Rob just raised his eyebrows with a laugh and shook his head. “He’s done it. He’s finally lost it.”

Calum just kept searching for you amongst the miriade of people in the corridors. His knee was starting to burn a bit again, and he knew the physio would kill him if they found out he’d been jogging around.

But then he turned the corner, and he saw you, and the thought jumped right out of his mind. It felt like everything stopped for a moment; like there weren’t so many people around anymore, like all the oxygen left the air, like there was nothing or no one he’d ever wanted to come across more. He knew he was being a little silly - after all you were just stood leaning against the wall on your phone - yet it seemed like he was back at that stupid art museum a month back when he first tried to tell you his feelings because god, you looked out of this world. And all you were doing was standing there.

There was a fire in his heart he didn’t have a month ago that was willing him on now to sack it all off and get it over with. And there was a fire burning in his knee that was getting worse the longer he stayed still.

So he moved. He walked toward you, intent in every step and all focus on anything else completely lost to the background. He wasn’t going to stop himself - he didn’t want to stop himself - so he didn’t. He just kept walking until the clacking of his boots against the hard floor made you peer up over your phone.

There was an unmissable splendour in his eyes that bore into yours as you slipped you phone into you pocket with a greeting smile. You hadn’t expected to see him so soon after the match and you were on the verge of asking what had brought him to you so soon as you held your hands out, prepared for a giant bone-crushing hug from him you’d grown accustomed to.

Before you could get your mouth to say words and before you could wrap your arms around him, Calum’s hands dived straight to either side of your jaw and pushed your lips on his. Your hands landed on his waist lightly as his warm hands tilted your head up a touch so he could kiss you just that little bit deeper. If this was only happening once, it was going to be perfect.

He felt your lips start to kiss him back after the sudden shock of him on you sauntered away and he smiled to himself at the way it felt to experience this. There had been far too much time between when he first caught a crush on you and when the moment to do something about it had finally arrived.

Calum pulled away before too long and rested his forehead on yours with his eyes still closed. A breathy laugh fell from his mouth as it couldn’t help but curve into a smile. You couldn’t quite find the words you wanted to say, or any words at all for that matter, so you just gently squeezed his sides to cover up your silent spluttering that he couldn’t even see nor notice.

He slipped his hands down to your neck as he moved his head back to look at your face properly. His hair was still a little sweaty and he was definintely out of breath but his eyes gleamed as bright as his grin. He took a deep breath and tried to compose himself now that he was close up to the beautiful girl he yearned to see five minutes ago. It felt just like a dream to be in a moment like this.

Except you weren’t quite smiling like he was. And now he’s realising there are people around you. And he’s still wearing his dirty kit. And his knee is definitely going to need another check by the physio from the heat that’s searing through it. His heart is still in dreamland and his smile is still etched on his face, but his brain just dropped back to earth and hit the ground. Luckily for Calum though, he never has favoured his mind over his mood.

He watched your eyes for a second and took another breath whilst his thumb started moving up and down along your jaw. “Mate, I am sorry if that was way off what you thought of me, but I’ve been waiting to do that for a while. And I know I ain’t thinking straight right now with that win and my knee is making me go doo-lally mental, probably not the best idea to run round half the bloody stadium for you, but I needed to do that.” He sighed as all his words tumbled out of him. “I just needed to do that...”

Your eyes never left his for a second, and you hoped he had some sort of super mind-reading powers hidden in him somewhere so he could know what you felt, because your mouth was trailing years behind your brain. You wanted to tell him how right it felt, how often you’d imagined his lips on yours, how much you wanted it to happen too. But your stammering wouldn’t let you. You were counting your lucky stars that winning this trophy had washed him in so much exhileration that he hadn’t noticed your prolonged reaction, or at least he hadn’t done anything about it.

He was hopped up on the sugar of you and you were so shocked by his sudden actions that your hardwire system shut down.

His body shifted under the palms of your hands and he was about to take a step backwards away from you when your snaked your arms around his torso to stay close to him. “Well mate,” you teased, tilting your head to keep looking up at him directly with a smirk, “whatever you seem need, it works for me.”

He scoffed a laugh at the words that you managed to say and mockingly rolled his eyes at you as you giggled. Those bright blue eyes hadn’t lost a single spark since he saw you a minute ago and they didn’t look keen to be dimming any time soon either.

Calum just pulled you closer to him again for another kiss, this time shorter, and sweeter, and less system-knocking. This time it was Calum. This time it certainly wasn’t a dream.

The thumb on your jaw moved along your skin a couple more times when you looked back at each other, you smiles carved in stone on your faces. His fingers trailed over your shoulders and down your arms until his right hand found solace linked together with yours. You simply watched him, how his shoulders stood tall over you but weren’t wound as tightly as before.

When your eyes met his once more, he suddenly dropped his effervesant smile and furrowed his brows. “I’m being serious now though. If I don’t get this knee looked at in the next 30 seconds, I’ll be chopping it off.” You chuckled as his complaint and secured your hand in his before nudging his arm forward to get him to start walking back to where he’d come from.

“Oi, don’t laugh, it could be fatal! I could be facing life on bed rest for my heroics today.” As hard as Calum tried to make his words sound convincing, the cheeky grin fighting it’s way onto his face sold him out. Every time.

“Alright, superman,” it was your turn to roll your eyes as you placed your other hand on his arm whilst you walked nestled against him, “let’s get you checked on so you can fly me back home.”

#calum chambers #calum chambers imagine #calum chambers x reader #football #football imagine #rob holding #oneshot #my fic #my og post #amys2021challenge

[dancing-on-the-waves]

The Museum

The Museum 

 I went to the museum today to see the paintings, sculptures, whimsy, antiquities and assorted curiosities. Modernism, impressionism, surrealism, cubism, realism, and abstract. Michelangelo and Picasso, Monet and Manet, Dying Gaul and Van Gogh, Rodin and Gauguin, and Rembrandt so vibrant. I saw The Thinker and wondered just what he thought about. Did he marvel at what was all about? The joy and tragedy, The reality and fantasy, the reverence and malignity? I stood there for a while just wondering and thinking. I slowly moved through the rooms stopping before pictures and objects, still thinking, wondering, and…feeling. I stood before a painting of a mother and children and an apple seller by Renoir. I felt the simple happiness free of strife, the peace of a colorfully modest life. I gazed others by Daly, Morrissey, Landry, Fincher,  Schlesinger, and more I laughed and dreampt at the childish innocence and playfulness which brought a peace to my soul and a smile to my face to see such grace. I moved from there to another room full of armor, weapons, and the means to impose one’s will upon another to dominate and smother. I sat on a bench taking in all the implements of war and death absorbed in what it all represented as I took each living breath. Men who took life from others, men who gave their lives for others. Warriors who returned to families scarred, broken, dismembered, defeated, covered by a hideous pall…and many who never returned at all. I left that room in a gloom looking for solace and diversion in the abstraction and distraction of a modern room. I walked in circles trying to make sense of the chaos, aberrations, disorder, tumult, and disillusionment of the now. I watched as others toured the room marveling at the craftsmanship, the dueling heroism they envisioned, or imagining the ‘game’ of war  Finally, I shook my head and wondered how. The next phase of my tour led me to a room of antiquities that left me grieving at the inhumanity of man. Was there any end to the depth of depravity? Others in the room walked around in somber fascination, or gross exhileration. Before me were implements to claw, tear, crush, impale, burn, dismember: the rack, an iron maiden, breast rippers, knee splitters, and so many more grippers and rippers. In my mind I could hear the tortured screams, fiendish laughs, and feel the blood running down, and the scalding baths. and I saw the spikes piecing my flesh as men held gruesome staffs How was it possible that anyone could do such satanic things to another? May the masters of such abominations rot in hell ‘til the last bell. My heart and soul filled with anguish and hate that nothing in there could abate. I past through a few rooms without noticing what was in them as I tried to erase what I had seen and felt that day. waiting for the images to melt away The next room I entered I found a bench and just stared absently for a while. When I regained my senses and took in what hung over me I was filled with the veneration and imagination of the artists and their worlds of God and gods. As I contemplated the meaning of all of this I was overwhelmed by the humility that the artists must have felt at times as they traced their lines so sublime. Was there meaning beyond ourselves thus in the eternity and universe around us? Were the gods aspirations or degenerations of man, or men who were able to rise, or lower to great aspirations, or degradations. Men who through time and legend became venerated and lifted above imaginations? My thoughts were filled with wonder and deflection, soul searching and reflection. After a time my mind returned to the world of men, earth and the museum. I solemnly rose to continue my path of the halls of craft, artistry, imagination, and tedium. I finally came to the last room having past the fascination and allure of the cultures of the world leaving my head in a swirl. I found myself in a small alcove alone with a single painting. I could only stand before it with tears running down my face as I stared at the mercy and grace. Before me was a simple painting of a mother and her son. She held him so gently, and lovingly with tears like mine running down her face. He did not move, he did not play, fight, run amuck, smile, or harm anyone. His tortured body just lay in her arms lifeless and dim. His life mercilessly taken from him. In her eyes I could see the grief and pain of a mother. In her eyes I could see the joy and relief of victory to come for others. He gave His life so that others may live, have life and freedom from eternal strife. He paid the penalty for our/my selfishness, hatred, greed, cruelty, and viciousness. He freed us from death, wrath, hatred, slavery, and hopelessness In Him could be seen the art of creation, the meaning of it all. The beauty of hope and joy for every girl and boy. The beauty and meaning that was corrupted by the creation only to be restored by the love and selflessness of the master of creation. I left wondering if that was what The Thinker was pondering.

K. C. Barry

#writerscreed #purelypsalms #savage-words #poetryportal #re-bumbleblossoms #24hoursopen #13cupsofreblog #teacup13 #lzlabseesu #inkstainsandheartbeats #blotched-poems #twcpoetry #illustrans #bumbleblossoms #teaberrybee

[missrkl]

Intentions Behind Lies Chapter One

Gabi was sitting in makeup as the makeup artists did their most prolific work. Teasing her hair, putting things on her face. This was part of her job. There was times she liked it, but sometimes it felt too much like ‘hiding behind lies.’ Even her producer edited her photo’s quite heavily, taking of a bit of weight here and there, making her out to be this super skinny celebrity, when she was anything but. Even her name was phoney, Brittany, that wasn’t her real name. She had to do everything to keep herself number one in the charts. As the hairdressers teased Brittany’s hair into bouncy curls for the stage she sighed heavily. Chin up, said one of the makeup artists, “You’re living the dream! Do you know how many girls would kill to do and have you what you do and have?!” Britanny wasn’t so sure if it was a gift or a curse anymore. It had started out as a gift. In the beginning she loved the fan’s attentions, she loved the applause of the crowd, she even loved the finances that rolled in. Until her Father took it all away saying she wasn’t the right age to handle it yet. He did give her some and she had learned to become content with that. Brittany was soon being ushered into the fitting room area to put on her skimpy outfit, she really did not like waltzing about naked on stage for all to see, but that is what filled concert halls, that is what got the highest views, “sex cells” was the commentaries made by her producer. Brittany inhaled and exhaled deeply, emptying her mind of all her secret inner turmoil, the stage was hers tonight, not one of them would be there, she could just pretend she was at a big massive party singing and dancing her guts out. As Brittany stepped out onto the platform she smiled and cooed at the audience, they all cheered in response. Sometimes this could be fun. 

On the other side of the world was a guy named Fabs, literally that was his stage name. He was a singer too. He did love all his adoring fans, but some of them seemed to be a little too much to handle. He had dark brown hair and dark brown eyes and he was half British and half Italian, “a man to die for” as the tabloids labelled him. Every single female on his arm at any event was a a cause of uproar in the tabloids and his fans, wondering if any of them was his actual for real girlfriend. Fab’s got up on stage and took the mic sporting his famous leather jacket. The leather jacket made him look like a cute little boy in a big man’s outfit, super sweet. Fab’s heard the screams of his fans, all the female attention, he did seem to have a weak spot for a lot of them. Women were like delicate angels, he would never wish for harm to come to any of them. He did have some stalkers, but that was part of the business, it came with the fame and he had to learn to get used to it and use them for the spreading of his fame rather than working against them. Fab’s was his own producer, that’s how great he was. Nobody promoted him but himself, he got himself to where he was, he had a lot to be proud of and his reputation preceded him everywhere he went. Business industries wanted to have interviews with him on how he made it happen, on what led him to do produce himself, how did he know what to do and about the finance side of things. 

Britanny finished her concert and slowly walked off the stage, turning back every few steps to the crowd cheering her on. She felt the exhileration, some audience’s really brought back all the energy that you put out there. She enjoyed those crowd’s a whole lot more. Finally alone in her camper van Britanny wiped off all her make and showered off all that spray off her hair. Blonde hair, back to being Gabi,back to being herself. As she ate her dinner and lounged on the sofa she thought about her upcoming events that might bring joy to her life. She remembered there was this party hosted by Naomi Campbell on the boat, she was going and she hoped to have a good time. It was hard to meet guys being a celebrity, all the men she ever met being Britanny was a bunch of guy’s who just wanted to wank over her or get her laid. She just wanted to be loved and accepted as she was rather than some persona she put up every time she performed. Maybe she could meet meet a guy there.Gabi was into the whole brown hair brown eyes rogue handsome man, she hoped there would be one for her there. 

Fab’s ran off the stage with deep excitement coursing through his veins. All the women were beautiful tonight, he was a sucker for a pretty face. He couldn’t help but flirt with some of the audience tonight, which had been met with shrills of delight by the audience, all dreaming that they were that woman he was talking to. As Fab’s got into his SUV he thought about the party he was going to go to Naomi Campbell’s boat party, he was a close friend and he liked her very much. A time for relaxation and a lot of fun. As he drove down the road he did have this earnest desire to have someone who liked him beyond his reputation, he had met lots of women who wanted his finances, or wanted his fame and status, like some sort of ‘man trophy.’ He wanted to meet a nice genuine woman, someone who wasn’t afraidto be herself around him. 

The week dragged slowly for both Gabi and Fab’s and soon the weekend was here and Naomi’s boat party was happening. Gabi dressed up in a gold sequin dress and her blonde hair tied up in a high pony tail like Ariana Grande. She sported a gold sequin bag to match and all she had on her was lipstick, keys and her iphone and charger. The important things clearly. Fab’s on the other-hand was running late, he had to meetup with Clarke before the event and he was racing down the road in his SUV. He wore a suite, black, and he was really looking forward to tonight. Gabi arrived on time and was soon shown around the rooms of the boat and led to the dining table and handed a glass of white wine. She stood with some other famed artists and they talked about nothing in particular, although the commentaries on crazed fans did come up and she did have a few stories to contribute. Fab’s arrived late and was also soon shown around the rooms and handed a glass of whiskey and this is the place where these two meet. They happened to meet when Fab’s was ushered to Naomi’s group of friend’s and Gabi was one of them, a new one. Fab’s eyed her up, exceptionally beautiful, blonde hair, blue eyes, pink lips, sexy slinky gold sequin dress and gold heels to match. He liked her almost immediately. He felt his cheeky boy side wanting to come out and play. Gabi was always apprehensive with new guys, and she had heart about his reputation in the newspapers, different girls always on his arm at different events, except for tonight it seems. Gabi had no intention of being one of those girls. 

As Gabi and Fab’s locked eyes together there seemed to be a spark between them. Gabi felt it loud and strong. The group was talking about the sexuality gender confusion of this day and what they thought about it and whether or not they would cash in on that exploit it as artists, Fab’s had made some comments that really pushed her buttons. He had said that he would exploit it for sure, he could use all the publicity he could get. Gabi had asked him “so you would feign being gay or feign having a gender confusion or supporting the gender confusion just for fans and ratings?” Fab’s had said yes, anything to get his numbers up. He was producing himself after all, it was a lot harder than say “some singer who had a producer who did all the hard work” and Gabi felt like this was a dig at her and she decided she didn’t like him anymore, he was rude and obnoxious and clearly only out for himself. She felt herself rising with boiling anger at his remark and had made some excuses to leave the group. Fab’s had made some excuses too and followed her, much to her annoyance. Gabi walked to the other side of the ship and looked over the ocean in silence away from the main thrust of the party and Fab’s had followed closely behind and she questioned his motives and Fab’s had remarked “how easily you are spooked, I only came out here for some quiet time, it’s you who followed me.” Gabi wrinkled her nose at him and made a comment how there’s a nasty smell going around the boat, how it must be him and stomped off. Fab’s just laughed, clearly getting some excitement from her frustration, her nose wrinkling was cute.

Gabi went home alone that night and Fab’s went home with two women on his arm, friends or friend’s with benefits she wasn’t sure, but she was sure glad it wasn’t her. Gabi went home frustrated and decided to create a fake persona online, an account where she could be herself, use a different picture, maybe an animated one for the purpose of remaining anonymous. Maybe it would be better for her to meet someone online who had no idea who she was. She set up the account as Geraldine and began scrolling around. She soon found this handsome looking man who had brown hair and brown eyes as well but wasn’t Fab’s, was someone else. He looked just as tantalising. She added him and said hello. Fab’s got a message on his instagram account from a woman named Geraldine asking him how he was and hello I liked your profile pic. Fab’s checked her out and found only an animated profile photo. Clearly a woman with something to hide, but he had something to hide too. His celebrity status. He had put a photo of his twin brother with his permission in order to maybe find the woman he would one day walk down the aisle. They soon began talking via text and found a mutual companionship in each other. Gabi found him to be interesting and easy to text chat to, at least he had given her a chance, with her animated photo and all. Fab’s sat up straighter in his chair, who was this woman? They had a deep connection even on their first chat, he really liked that, he never truly connected with anybody, but this woman, there was something, like a spark, and she didn’t even have a real photo! Which spoke volumes to Fab’s that must mean she was beautiful on the inside and that would last a thousand lifetimes more than the physical appearance that would fade away with time. Although, he did like Gabi yesterday, he had enjoyed their little chat both in the group and in private, and she was beautiful. He would have really liked to get to know her. Maybe one day they would meet again.