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The Shades of the Argonauts Part 14. Rivendell"Dr. Narheda! Narheda?" the clear ringing voice called out over the dig the moment Narheda stepped out of the tent. Immediately, she was blinded by the hot late summer's mid-morning sun and she tipped down the rim of her hat to avoid the stark light, squinting her eyes and knowing she'd get another wrinkle. One of the minor hazards of her profession. Then she looked out over the more than two miles broad excavation on the shore-side of the Rapids of Bruinen, just downstream of the power plant with its huge dam.
Almost 50 people were at work here, having excavated a bakers dozen of ruins in various sizes, from large and impressive structures which had doubtlessly been public halls to small huts which were probably private homes. All of the structures bearing the signs of that more or less alien architecture, which the archeologists had come to define as Elven by now. And none of them were apartment buildings. Elves didn't do apartment buildings.
This was the Rivendell, the Rivinederl or
The Shades of the Argonauts Part 13.Speakers CorneThe Javelin made a casual left and fell in with the pace of the evening traffic, moving north down the broad and tree lined West Shore Drive. By the quay walk on their left hand, small restaurants were scattered, their cozy orange light gleaming in the rapidly falling darkness and people could be seen moving about, darker shadows against the dusky surroundings. On the houses lining the right side of the boulevard, neon and light boards was lighting up, advertising all kinds of things from theatre plays to toothpaste.
Everything out there seemed so absurdly normal to Narheda, especially since she was brooding over the fact that the man behind the wheel of the sports car was a real life Istari. A several thousand years old legend coming alive, a legend who had met Elves for real, and could tell what they had looked like. What they had been like! And most of all what become of them! Still he looked so perfectly – normal, with his salt and pepper beard and the sinewy, sl
The Shades of the Argonauts Part 12. The IstariNarheda stood back, letting Mitikas deal with the enraged ferry personnel, who were yelling about their destroyed vessel. The older man did that with a thick bundle of cash money he placed in the hand of the portly man with the largest number of stripes on his jacket. The captain.
"That should cover it, I assume," he said gently and at the sight of the colourful plastic squares, the captain shut up as if someone had put a cork in his mouth. An almost funny experience, and in spite of everything, Narheda felt a smile tug at the corner of her lips at the scene.
"You always do that?" she asked of Mitikas when he returned to her and Luwan by the car. "Either shoot yourself trough or pay yourself through a dilemma? That sounds like a very expensive and hazardous way to go through life if you ask me."
"Yes, but more fun," the bearded man grinned before he turned serious. "However I know it's far from a regular way to manage your life these days. And no, I normally don't do it this way, howev
The Shades of the Argonauts Part 11. The tough getThe Shades of the Argonauts Part 11. The tough gets going
Bracing against the blackness, that was beginning to seep in at the corners of his eyes, Mitikas threw his head backwards, becoming rewarded with a shrill yell of agony as the back of his scull hit the face of Sarigiana. She lost her grip around him and he spun around, catching the small time window she was out of balance and grabbed her right arm. Quickly folding forwards he tipped her body over him in a wide angle and hurled her into the wall. He could hear a horrid smack and the breaking of bones as Sarigiana hit the concrete, still he felt no remorse, that woman wouldn't have hesitated a second to kill him, she sure had tried that more than once before. As a matter of fact, Mitikas had done the same, several times, although always to his dismay failing.
Gripping her collars he crashed her head once more against the wall, that was all he had the time for now. He was doubhtful this would kill Sarigiana, however she was
The Shades of the Argonauts Part 10. When the goinThe Shades of the Argonauts Part 10. When the going gets tough
"He's not here, that's all you need to know, Narheda," Hikarete responded coolly.
"No, I think need I know a bit more," the historian shot back, gathering her wits quickly. "It's rather important that I get to see Traven and exchange a few words with him."
"Then let's make a li'l trade," Hikarete suggested as her eyes danced over the faces of Luwan and Mitikas before dismissing them as being of less importance. Removing her feet from the desk surface she slammed them to the floor and stood. "Give me this so called Elven proof, and you'll get Traven back." She held out her right hand, fluttering impatiently with her fingers.
Now it dawned upon Narheda that they had been set up. This was a trap, their opponents had lured out all the people from this office complex so they could safely trick in her and the men here and have them all in a neat little box. That was why the place had been so strangely empty. And Hikarete w
The Shades of the Argonats Part 9. Another soul toThe Shates of the Argonauts part 9. Another soul to save
Some thirty minutes later, Mitikas of Keratorion lowered the papers, picked off his glasses and returning them to their designated pocket before he turned once more to his visitors.
"This colleague of yours, Dr. Traven of Gerentha, what about him?" their host asked. "As I understand it, he was the one who initiated the involvement of the biologists Arlig and Iusa in the first place. Is he and his research accounted for in this case?"
Mitikas' question made Narheda blush, she had to admit that she hadn't given Traven a thought. Then again, she hadn't met or even heard from him for months, not since they had been discussing the skeletons from the dig, skeletons which they both had believed to be Elven.
"You're right, I should check upon him," she reached inside her bag for her communicator, but Mitikas laid a hand on her arm.
"Wait! We don't know if he's in any danger yet. Better not draw attention to the hazard."
The Shades of the Argonaths part 8. The Shades of"Mine too," Luwan admitted when Narheda told him that her room had been searched during lunchtime. "Seems like they know we got something with us back from Tharbad. Something they want, or at least consider we should not have."
"Yes, and I believe it's only a matter of time before they bust us for real," Narheda said. "We're still two or three steps ahead of them but they're gaining upon us for every try they might."
"So what do we do?" Luwan asked as he seemed to brace himself from glancing over his shoulder in the imagined direction of a listening ear.
"Remember how professor Iusa tipped us off about someone who might help us?"
"Yes," the young man waited for Narheda to go on.
"Iusa told us that she was protected by the Cardolanian king, Tanesis CXIV. I imagine she considered herself untouchable because of that. And maybe she truly is. Tanesis is not only powerful, having a resourceful administration with tentacles reaching everywhere, he is also said to be extremely supportive of th
The Shades of the Argonaths part 7. Valid proofsWhen the tram stopped by the University Station, Narheda fostered a slight fear that she and Luwan would be met by a repetition of yesterday's disaster at their own campus. But she forced those worries to the back of her mind as they started off for their objective.
Unlike the Sarmaltar uni's hilly location, the Tharbad equivalent was situated on the riverbanks of Gauathlon, or to be more exact on and around an islet protruding out into the river just south-west of the Northern Old Town. Following professor Iusa Vinidad's directions they found themselves walking down meandering paths of white pebbles and watching a motley blend of old and new buildings located helter-skelter on the shore side, mingling with impressive old oaks, lark trees and other greenery. There were some open spaces where Narheda could spot students mingling about, but for the most part this place was far much densely arranged than the Sarmaltar university campus.
They passed by a large open air arena with white mar
The shade of the Argonaths part 6. The trip to ThaThe shade of the Argonaths part 6. The trip to Tharbad
Seen from the air, Tharbad, Cardolan looked more or less the same as Sarmaltar, a frozen firework of light sprawling out across the land, and up the hills surrounding the vale and with the dark crack of a broad river cutting through the explosion of light - in this case the river of Gauathlon. However the buildings seemed lower than those of Sarmaltar and the city appeared more sprawled, disappearing in the haze surrounding it. And the flight station was smaller and more modern than the worn monstrosity that was Lauko International.
It hadn't taken long between the bumps of the wheels hitting the runway and the de-embarkment through a docked gate and an arrival directly into the station building without having to cross the tarmac below. A sliding floor had then taken Narheda and Luwan off to immigration and well through that, they reached the exit of the structure. While Luwan had taken care of getting them a Taxi (Narheda p
I AmI am single,
but I am loved.
I am not a genius,
but I am intelligent.
I am not breathtaking,
but I have beauty.
I am not a saint,
but I am kind.
To the world,
I am not perfect.
But for someone,
All Her Little ThingsStop hating her for the littlest things.
The things she can't prevent,
The things she can't save herself from..
Stop demanding her to do things,
Things she can't accomplish,
Things she can't imagine being done...
Stop lying to her,
Telling her you love her,
Want her, need her...
When all you've ever done is make her want to
Stop hating her for the littlest things.
The things she can't prevent,
The things she can't save herself from...
When those little things you've done
Take her down...
The little things won't matter anymore.
lung canceri will die with your name on my lips
because there is nothing else i'll need to say.
you are my coffin, my funeral pyre.
as my bones disintegrate, popping and snapping,
you will greedily swallow my ashes
until nothing is left of me but secondhand smoke.
i've danced with you, love, across hospital tile,
the scent of antiseptic cloying as valentine's chocolate.
you dipped me into unconsciousness,
and i willingly closed my eyes.
the intrusion of your scalpel teeth no longer scares me.
you, my rigor mortis soul mate, always take me under.
your tent of frostbitten shelter pulls me down, an anchor,
while i gag on pills too abstract to save me.
forgive me, lungs, of my cigarette abuse,
but i've found happiness in a reaper's cloak.
i find comfort in these carcinogens.
i've made my nest in a swaying tree,
my body destroyed by the nauseous rocking.
they smile at me with pity in their eyes,
scribbling nonsense on those jaw-like clipboards.
their crisp, stark white world still has faith in me,
Don't pick a fight with an Artist
Don't pick a fight with an artist
Wanna fight pussy?
Give me yar best shot
Or will you throw a paintbrush at me?
I'm so scared- not
Excuse me? What did you say?
What is a punch you ask?
Of course let me tell you:
A blow with the fist- it's quite a simple task
Are y' gonna cwyyy?
I dunno what you just said
Why don't you let me show you?
I'll f****** punch you and then- boom- you're dead!?
Pardon? What did you ask?
You need a clearer definition?
Of course, let me show you
I'll demonstrate- with out your permission
Ouch! Hey no fair
Dude you are so gay
You write poetry
I'll make you f****** pay!
Discúlpeme? What did you mutter?
I'm gay? Is that what you said?
Perhaps you need some assistance, let me help
I'll be gentle I promise- I did need new ink! In the colour red<
you've been dead for a year, my deari met you on december 21st,
the longest night of the year.
you had solstice eyes: cold, dark, alluring.
i knew you were not meant to last,
powerful as a gale but fragile as
the tulip stems you snapped,
a sickening cycle of you,
an overwhelming tidal wave.
they say two wrongs will never make a right,
but i made so many bad choices that
i wound up back where I began.
it was too easy to love you,
but getting you to love me back was impossible.
i clawed at your chest until I struck blood,
until my nails split into shards.
you were born a phantom,
and i, your corpse.
holding onto you felt like drowning in quicksand;
i fought but always sank into your arms.
i breathed in dirt, breathed in dust, and
found my organs choked with you,
smothered by your existence.
you sucked out my breath
every time i kissed you.
i died every day with your hand
knotted in my hair.
You left on june 21st,
the longest day of the year.
i bit down sorrow and deconstructed
the labyrinth within me,
the one you hadn't th
Mirror, MirrorMirror, mirror, on the wall,
Watch it crumble, break and fall.
Look at all the bloody glass,
How it reminds them of a severed past.
Watch a reflection slowly disappear,
Looking at all the shattered, crushed mirrors.
A breathless state of mind goes by,
Am I just alive or did I die?
Confused and in an awe,
Careless people unknown to what one saw.
Throat slit so one can't be unlocked,
Too bad the thoughts have become blocked.
Crimson splatters, dripping, breaking away,
Thou shall not know the feeling of all the pain.
Oh, Mirror, mirror on the wall,
Why did you crumble, break and fall?
Eye of the StormI believed I could make the wind blow,
and force the moon to shine at night,
create rainbows just by thinking,
and hold tea parties for fairies in July,
I was the queen of my own graceful lands.
Yet, I grew old and realized,
I am the kind of girl who'd trip and fall,
often for stepping on her own feet.
My crown of diamond and gold
now a rusted piece of bronze,
I lost my throne to treason, my kingdom to hate,
I became the eye of a hurricane,
loaded with mishaps I need to atone.
I felt the soft touches of angels,
and lost my own wings to demons who could crush stone.
Felt the scorching tears run so often,
I knew I must have hit bottom low.
I had nothing holy, no one to call dear,
but here I am, the starting point of my own storm.
I felt fear, clung to shadows,
encased my heart within marble walls,
and threw the keys that can unlock my soul.
So many chances I've lost with no love to seek,
and so many people I turned my back to.
I let the darkness gnaw through my bones.
A stranger walked up to me today...A man walked up to me and asked me for a cigarette… I told him I didn't smoke anymore, and he asked me why? ––I answered "because the person I used to smoke with, isn't around anymore", and he replied…"that's why I smoke."
A woman walked up to me and asked me for drugs, I replied "I have several in store…his eyes, his smile, his hands"…she whispered, "that's not a drug"…and I laughed as I said.. "if only you knew."
A child walked up to me today and asked me to play a game, I told them I was too tired to play games, i'd been playing for years, they replied…"then you must be a pro!", to which I said "yes…a pro at losing."
An old woman stared at me today, and I asked her…"is something wrong?" she answered "I was about to ask you the same question."
© Rocio Belinda Mendez
Blue BlanketsIt rains tonight
Life is a black and white movie
The gutters are wet, reflecting the neon
Red letters and below them some blue
marketing a brand of beer which tastes like pee
One letter missing
If fizzes and spatter static
And the stray cat hails the sound
Beleiving it an enemy
But there's no enemies here
And old memories
Stored away dreams in a cupboard
Crashed sagas like trojans on a harddrive
Allahs prison is that old computer in the closet
A PC from 96 with the plug pulled
And the hull yellowed by time
The dustworms live there now
Checking their email
Cuddling up for the night
Borrowing our memories
And giving them back
Retold like fan fiction
of outgrown old religions
and gossip of yesterdays stars
those lies which were our blue blankets
in that childhood we don't want to return to
It rains tonight
Life is a black and white movie
Michael Jackson is dead
And so is Marilyn and Elvis
The Loch Ness Monster has gone missing
The Alien returned with his saucer
AerosolIt has been a day and a half since the crash, and I have found a cabin. In some ways, this is a relief. I don’t know if I could face another night on the mountain without shelter. Outside, a fire does no good: the heat simply travels upwards. However, this place also raises some difficult questions. I estimate that I’ve put eight miles between myself and the crash site. I don’t know if this will be enough. It Saving...
occurs to me that I don’t really know anything.
The survival manual recommends staying with the plane. It explains that this affords the best chance of rescue. It explains that the wreckage offers warmth and shade. It explains that seventy percent of pilots who stay are located within three days, while seventy percent of those who leave are
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