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Ice Fishing Ice fishing is one of the activities in life that can teach us many things. It can teach us trust, determination, dedication, patience, endurance, courage and stamina. How can it do all these things you might ask? It teaches us trust by trusting that God will lower temperatures enough to make the ice thick to hold us so that we do not plunge through. It also teaches us trust that he will provide the fish for us to catch. Ice Fishing teaches us determination by giving us the mindset that we will catch a fish, and we use our knowledge to try new things when something isn’t working. It teaches us dedication by how long we stay on the ice until we catch something and sometimes long after we have; even when the wind is biting and the fish aren’t. It teaches us patience, in the long waiting for the fish to bite Ice fishing teaches us endurance not only in how long we can endure the cold, it also gives us the drive to wait patiently as the fish nibbles at the line, and then it gives us the courage to set the hook at just the right time. It gives us the stamina to stay in one place without moving for long periods of time, watching the end of your pole to see that fish nibble it. Why we do this? We do it for the rush we get when that fish finally does strike, and we set the hook and reel in that one fish that couldn’t get away. When this happens we thank our Father in heaven for the fish he has blessed us with, drop the line back down and wait for the next fish. His creation is wonderful and beautiful, and we are blessed to get out and enjoy it; even if only one day a year. These seven values, taught by one outdoor activity can last you throughout the years, and I believe it is one of the reasons God blessed man with the opportunity and ingenuity to create this fantastic activity. |
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Welcome to All! I am quite sorry for the delay in posting this. With finals and the Christmas Season which is upon us I have not been able to write at all. Or very little. It is quite depressing as you can all tell, but I am hoping that this excerpt of Chapter 12 will help cheer all of us up. (though it is depressing, so I don't know why it will cheer any of us up.) However, if things go well and I am able to write like mad I shall finish Dark Prophet by Month's end. Enjoy! This is an excerpt of 'Dark Prophet' by ThrillAuthor. Please do not copy it in any form or fashion. All Rights Reserved. Everything was going according to plan. Maurin was in the clink, for what it would seem would be indefinitely, and no one suspected it was him. Blagdon did a small jig as he was in the bathroom washing his hands. Now, he could just get something to slip the Master and make it look like it was an accident, or natural death. Then seize power and take over the world. A slow, evil grin spread across his lips as he wiped his hands on a paper towel. He tossed the crumpled paper in the bin by the sink and went out the door. He walked down the corridors to the room where the Master would be grilling Maurin for facts of what happened. He reached the room where Maurin and the Master were; he could tell because there were guards on the outside, as well as he could see Maurin kneeling in the corner through the one sided glass. He wished he could hear what was being said, but he would have to just watch. The feeling was stifling, he could not bear the fact that he would wait in grueling silence while the real drama unfolded before his eyes. Maurin Stared at the table that was in the corner of the room nearest the door. He felt so scared he acted on instinct when the Master entered and sat in the corner farthest from him. If anything this was only hurting his case; not helping in any way at all. He rocked himself back and forth to keep calm, but even that did not seem to help. He could not bear to hold the Masters gaze ever again if he even got out. The Master stood in the doorway for quite a long time, keeping unmoving, unspeaking. Even if Maurin had tried to read the expression on the Master’s face it would not have brought him any hope. It was just as piercing and judging as he had the day he was shot at; which happened to only have been the day before. The Master suddenly began to pace slowly, from the door, to the table near the door and back. Time dragged by, and Maurin wondered if the Master was just pacing to get the tension up and make him confess or cry, or if he was thinking the words to slash him through the heart. It was doing all three and even now he wanted to confess to something just to be back in the graces of his Master. But he did nothing. Tears began to slowly snake their way down his overcast face, but he made no utterance that he was doing so. The footsteps stopped in front of the table, and Maurin looked up to see what he was doing. He had his hand on the table, and the fingers on his hand were tapping, in beat with some rhythm in the Master’s head. Maurin could not help but follow it, watching it beat after beat. His gaze went up the Master’s arm, to his shoulder, and with a power Maurin couldn’t resist, his gaze finally rested upon the Master’s face. Those piercing eyes cut him through the soul as he watched. “You know why I am here Maurin.” The Master began, “I am here, because you committed a crime; an unforgivable crime at that. You tried to take my life. You know as well as any that that offense is punishable by death and death alone. Not by their culture; those pigs that call themselves ‘humans’. You are not so lucky that they have no control over this matter. If they had they would let you live for a time in prison; or they could also execute you. But you would have a chance. What I am here to find out is why? Why did you try and take my life?” There was a deadening silence that only continued to tear at Maurin. Evermore was the room closing in on him. His breathing began to shorten and quicken. He felt that he might pass out at any moment. Every fiber of his being screamed for him to tear his gaze from the Master, but he held it as if caught by some imaginary force that wouldn’t allow him to look away. The tears that stained his face poured forth into an ever building flood. The only thing that escaped his lips was a soft sob. The Master stopped his fingers from tapping. Maurin was able to rip his gaze from the eyes of the Master to the hand that lay on the table. He watched as it was moved from where it rested to the elbow of the opposite arm. The Master’s arms were crossed now; yet the scowl on his face remained unchanged. All this rejection was too much for Maurin to bear. He let out a howl of anguish and let loose more of the tears he had been holding back. Heavy sorrows lashed his marred soul bash after bash, not letting up for a second. Maurin buried his head in his knees and let all of his feelings poor through, like a child that had been caught steeling or lying; just wanting to be forgiven and accepted again. He was not going to have that second chance as many people might. This outpour of emotion he was giving wasn’t just for him; Maurin was hoping he might strike a chord in the Master and maybe, just maybe he would take him back. No, even if he was moved by this show of emotion he was not showing it. Only that ever tearing stare remained. The stare was knifing, knifing, knifing and was only making the tears Maurin was shedding ever grow into a raging river. “I asked you a question!” the Master shouted at Maurin. This only increased the output of tears. “What?” the Master asked in a haughty voice, “You think this will help you out of your misery? You are a cockroach if you think so! Emotion is for the weak!” Maurin wiped the tears from his eyes and looked up. “I do not want sympathy, or any pardon. I want to be accepted by you again!” Maurin said through his choked flood of tears. They came again through the deadened silence that settled on the room again. Maurin took hold of the situation and boldly pressed forward, “I don’t know what happened out there at the courthouse! One minute I was watching you give your speech to the crowd, and the next a smoking gun is in my hand and it is pointed at you. What I do know is that I would never want to hurt, or kill you. I serve you! I am your right-hand man! You have to believe me!” He could still see no emotion on the Master’s face. All that happened was pure silence. A silence that was claustrophobic and grasping; not letting Maurin out of its sickly, black grasp. He tried to speak again, but the words caught in his throat and brought a fresh wave of tears. Increasingly his breath drew short. Again the Master turned towards him. “So,” he began, “you want acceptance? Why would you think you are not accepted? Come here.” Maurin obeyed, somewhat against his own will. Slowly he rose to his feet and walked unsteadily towards the Master. One foot in front of the other he made it to the table, only feet from where the Master stood. “Now, look upon this table Maurin.” He said, “What do you see?” Maurin’s gaze drifted onto the table. All he could see on the table was the pistol. That dreaded instrument of destruction that had been used in this criminal act. “Look at it!” the Master shouted. An unexplainable force grabbed the back of Maurin’s head and shoved his face to the table, to within inches of the pistol. Tears dripped onto the weapon, and curiously they sizzled when they contacted the metal. The Master bent low to the table and whispered in Maurin’s ear, “This is the weapon you tried to defeat me with. And like the fool you are you didn’t realize that I cannot be killed by a mere man.” Maurin straightened up and looked into the Master’s eyes with pity. He searched and could not find any pity in the Master’s eyes. “Pick up the pistol.” The Master said in a cold voice. Maurin did so. He heaved heavy sobs, trying to draw even one fiber of humanity to the surface of the Master. No impact, whatsoever on this seemingly stone cold man. “You said you want forgiveness,” the Master said, “put this gun to your head.” Though he did not want to, he obeyed, each sob cutting worse in his soul. ‘No man should bear this pain,’ Maurin thought as the pistol leveled just above his left ear. “Say you’re sorry,” the Master said, a slow grin spread across his face. “I am so sorry Master!” Maurin cried, the tears falling in cascades over his cheeks to the ground. His hand was trembling very badly, and he did not know what lay ahead on the road before him. That icy stare looked back at him and made him tremble more. It was a look only pure evil would give; and he knew this man was not the man he set out to follow to the Promised Land. “Goodbye Maurin.” The Master said. Maurin tried to plead one last time, but the gun went off before he could. His body crumpled into a heap, blood pouring from his head, gun still clutched in his hand. |
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Why do finals HAVE to be so hard? Not that the tests are hard. They're the easy part. Why is it that every time I go to do something on them the computer and all the forces of evil in the world gang up on me and make my life miserable? All I do is try and take the stupid tests. First my chemistry exam goes out on me. Then, when I ask my teacher to reset it, she resets the wrong one. My e-mail goes out on me so I can't tell her. Yesterday the internet went out completely. I can't wait to finish today. I would really like to either strangle or shoot something right about now but I will refrain as the only thin close isn't something I want to kill. I don't think mom would appreciate bullet holes or sword marks in the couch. And As you all can tell I haven't posted anything recently about my work on Dark Prophet, or Eyes, or Six Feet Under, or TSC. You can probably guess that school is the nemisis, and you are correct. As soon as I am finished I will put in good time to attempt to finish Dark Prophet by month's end. Or January, (I'm hoping for the end of this month). Keep me in your prayers. Any more setbacks with these electronic gizmos and I'm liable to destroy one of them. Cio! ~Theynore |
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Somehow I think you all just decided to gang up on me and tag me at once for the fun of it. But this one is from Pip, so it should be better than the rest. (note to all y'all that tagged me before, they're all good, but I'm selective about which ones I say are better :D) The Christmas Tag 1. What is your favorite part of Christmas: The Snow, the aura of happiness, the snow, the snow, did I mention snow? 2. Where do you go on Christmas: We usually stay home for Christmas, though my sister comes home from college. 3. What do you want most for Christmas: My two front teeth! I'm just kidding. Well I'd sure like a new effects pad for my electric guitar. 4. What is your fave Christmas movie: White Christmas, it's kinda nostalgic I know. 5. What is your second fave Christmas movie: Charlie Brown 6. Am I going on and on about Christmas movies: Um, is this a trick question or something? 7. How many people do you have to buy presents for: Well, there's the cousin gift exchange, friend exchange (and no R.K. we don't "exchange" friends) my family, so ALOT!!!!! :D 8. What is your fave thing to do in the snow: Look at it. Or hunt in it. Or fish on it. I can't decide which. Maybe sled, (make fun of me people, I don't really ski and I don't really care!) 9. What is your fave Christmas carol: Joy to the World is pretty good. 10. Do you like this Christmas Tag so far: It's good. I've never done one, so I like it. 11. Have you gotten a Christmas Tree yet: We always have a plastic one we set up (okay, okay guys! I know it's kinda stupid not to get a real one, but it's kinda awkward when you can't use it again after the holidays. 12. Have you ever built a gingerbread house: They taste yummy! (ask my sister, boy was she mad after I ate it! Hey! Come on, I was three and it was above my playpen, give me a break already!) 13. Is there snow on the ground right now: If you count on the mountain then yes, wait and come back tomorrow. 14. How much do you spend on Christmas presents: Um, like a boatload. 15. Did you enjoy this tag (it is ok if you didn't): Sure, yeah. 16. Who will you tag? Anyone who feels like doing it. |
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Welcome to All! I've been tagged. AGAIN! Let's get this over with... The Author Tag Do you have a pen/pecil collection? How many of those are chewed? Um, if I did, it probably woudn't be chewed. I stopped that in the second grade. :D Do you prefer handwriting or typing furiously? Typing furiously. I only handwrite my outlines How often do you get inspiration? It usually comes every now and then. More now than then, but you get the idea. Are you blogging this on a computer or laptop? Computer. I don't have a laptop :( Do you get inspiration more in the early morning or late at night? Late at night, I for the life of me can't write well during the day. Do certain movies/books/music inspire you? Sometimes, I was inspired a lot by Ted DeKker and Frank Perretti, the movie Thr3e, Narnia (the books, movies and radio dramas :D) LoTR... How do you incorporate God into your stories? Well, with my Thrillers I have the main characters be void of God, or they have had God at one point in their lives, but had a bad experience or reject him, then I put them through impossible situations that require God to help them through. My Adventure books are a bit different where my main characters rely on God to get them through tough situations day by day. I could go on and on but I wish to not BORE you to death :D Do you kill off your villains or make them repent? Most of the time I just kill them. Is the majority of your characters magical beings, humans or halflings? Or something else? Most of them are human. Mostly the ones in The Forgotten are magical/human/halflings. Some are just something else all together. :D What genre of writing are you most comfortable in? If you were to step out of your comfort zone, what would you write? I'm comfortable writing Thrillers. GO FIGURE! If I were to step out of my comfort zone I would write *gulps hard* christian romances. *spits words out of mouth and rinses with mountain dew* Do you work better alone or with someone else? Well, I work really good alone, but sometimes I'll write fantastically with someone else. Do your stories make sense, or do they ramble wildly? From the comments that I've gotten they make sense. Are your characters mostly Renegades, Peacekeepers or a mish-mash? Mish-mash. But I haven't encountered any of my villains yet and I'd like it to stay that way. Are you a sucker for good grammar? Oh gosh *blushes red* I'm a big sucker for good grammar! How is your handwriting? It's okay. How evil are your villains? Have you read any of them? I'd keep my distance if I were you. Are you long-winded or succinct? Very long winded at times Do you have typical "writer" traits such as inkstains on your fingers or a pencil behind your ear? Not really, but sometimes I do. Would someone walking past you on the street consider you normal? Maybe. It depends on what I'm doing. Do you write mostly poetry, stories, novels or a mixture? Novels really, sometimes short stories. I only write poetry when I have to. Do your characters vary in accents, appearence and attitude or are they mostly the same? They vary as snowflakes do. Do real people and/or places inspire your writing? Most definitely! Out of my adventure books there are places that are taken from this world! How many blogs/websites/internet haunts do you have? What? What is your favorite character? Or do you choose to remain unbiased in case of a revolt? Nathan. I can qwell any rebellion that comes my way. Do you talk to your characters? Do they talk back? Sometimes I do. *groans* Jordään is the biggest backtalker of all of them. Come to think of it, he's the only one. I generally fix it by pinning him to the roof. (and it's not as hard as it sounds) Are you more comfortable with girl or boy main characters? Well, so far I've really only written boy characters, but I'm comfortable with both. Do you follow basic overused plotlines with new twists thrown in or do you depart from the norm all the time? I'm in the middle. You will be surprised if you read my writings. Do you feel God has called you to be a writer/poet? Will you grasp "the power of the pen"? Holy hiccumas yes! And double yes! I tag anyone out there who wants to do this tag. (come on guys, I'm kinda running out of people to tag here) |
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Welcome to All! From the title you can tell that I got tagged again. This time it's a triple tag from the Empress! OH BOY! Here we go! 1.) Doing 5 years ago? Probably wallowing in the quagmire of the sixth grade year. 2. Six things you would do if you were a zillionare: Six things? I can't even use a hundredth of that! But if you insist, donate it to charity, donate it to charity, pay for my sisters college, donate it to charity, pay for my college, did I mention donate it to charity? 3. Name three bad habits: I am a chronic procrastinator, I stay up late, and I am a sugar addict (although I think alot of us are, come on ADMIT IT! :D) 4. Three good habits: Um, lets see here, when I get down to the bone I am a workaholic. I'm a pretty good prayer warrior. When I'm by myself I can hike for miles and press on really good. 5. Five things you like to do: I like to write (OBVIOUSLY! :D) I like to read (Again, pretty obvious) I like to hunt and I like to shoot, oh, and I enjoy a good Bible Study when I can do it. 6. Name four places you have lived: Um. Okay, I think I can do this, Taorin, The Royal Palace at L'viv, here, and now! :D 7. Who did you last talk to? My dad. 8. What is your favorite song? I've often asked myself this question. But right now it's The Real by Nevertheless. 9. What would you do if you could fly? Um, probably catch somebody, or just dive out of a plane and swerve at the last second as I am about to impale myself on something. But I'd probably misjudge it and piledrive myself into it anyways. So let's just stick with me not flying, okay? 10. What's your favorite book? Boy you people ask hard questions! But I'd have to say Skin by Ted DeKker, unless one of his other books comes and whacks me on the back of the head and says, "HEY! I thought I was your favorite!" Tell 6 random things about yourself and then tag six people. Link back to the person who tagged you. 1. I am a poor motivator. 2. Hmm, those chocolate donuts sure look good right about now. 3. I cheated and listened to The Tale of Despereaux instead of reading it. AND I DON'T CARE! :D 4. My characters fight with me a lot, except it's only my fantasy characters, and my bad guys haven't dared speak with me yet. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing yet. 5. I wish I had a salamander 6. I think it would be cool to hunt nine foot giant spiders for kicks And for some weirder than life reason I am having to do my own tag again. *gasps in horror* 1. If you were to describe yourself as a color, what would it be?: Red. Maybe 2. What is your favorite animal?: Eagles are good 3. What is your favorite musical instrument?: Drums are cool too 4. Do you have a favorite number?: I think I like the number thre3. :D 5. Roller coasters or boat rides?: Boat rides. Deffinitely, roller coasters are a bit too adventurous for me. 6. If you were an animal, what would you be?: Heck, I say a living fossil, that way I can prove atheists and evolutionists wrong. BWAHAHA!!!! 7. What coin best describes you?: Ein Reichspfenning. HAHAHA!!!! 8. Do you like tags?: Yes! 10. Morning or evening?: Evening. I don't think you want to see me in the morning, though evening is kinda morning for me. :D 13. fiction or non-fiction?: Fiction all the way! Though I do enjoy reading a good bio every now and again. 14. Do you wish you were somewhere else?: No, not really. Now that I've finished you really, really, really want to see who I'm tagging. TOO BAD! I'm just joking! I tag MaidenCapitolaBallot, AuthorElf, nachoaveragegirl, dixiefiddler, AnnonymousGirl and Storyteller! Have fun you guys! BWAHAHAHA!!!!!!! |
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Welcome to All! This is waaay unexpected, but I have gotten done with ten and I am ready to post an excerpt of Chapter 11! Isn't it exciting? I hope you all enjoy. This is an excerpt of 'Dark Prophet' by ThrillAuthor. Please do not copy it in any form or fashion. All Rights Reserved.
The Revolver was tucked underneath his coat and well concealed. He was sure that as long as he could teleport it to Maurin’s hand in the nick of time all would be safe; all he would have to do is play it cool for the next week or so. And then seize power and the following would be his! He glanced at his watch and it read 7:30. Blagdon put his hand back down impatiently. The crowd continued to grow and he could see the press gathering just to his left. “Perfect,” Blagdon muttered. From where he was he would be completely in the back, with no pictures of him as the shooter, and they would catch Maurin red handed with the pistol. “This is too perfect!” he said again to himself. Oh how the minutes seemed to drag by. If only he could control time as well. “Time to ask that later,” Blagdon thought as he shifted his feet. He could see some more of the media men coming up, and to his chagrin they set up directly behind him. A frown crossed his face as he looked back. The Master was to make an entrance from the doors of the Courthouse with a police escort of one officer on either side of himself. Nathan walked up and decided that right behind the Channel 12 crew would be the best vantage point of the gathering. He also was quite sure that it would not only be safer but less crowded as well, seeing all the big name news people would want to get statements at the first possible moment. “Strike after the iron has cooled,” Nathan said to himself as he strode past the crew. The crowd that had gathered was large. The whole plaza in front of the Courthouse didn’t seem to hold all the people in. Nathan paid no heed to this and continued to make sure he was ready. “Is my mike in place?” the Master asked Davila. She nodded and the Master gave a sigh of relief. “Today is a glorious day Davila,” the Master said, “do you know why my dear?” There was a slight pause before Davila answered, “No, my Master, I do not know why.” She hung her head as if in shame. Before she could say another word the Master said, “Now, now, now! Cheer up Davila! Today is the day I shall be exalted by the people, and our following shall again increase tenfold. Mostly outside the mission of course, but it will increase.” She nodded her head and glanced at the clock above the receptionist’s desk. “It’s almost time. Are you ready?” Davila asked. The Master again answered yes, and they prepared to exit the building and face the crowd. Fortunately enough the Master was able to win the Mayor of Chicago over to their cause, and he was quite sure that any day now he would convert. That would gain his position in the government, the first step to his semi-peaceful rise to rule the world! But for now he would only announce the Master. They could hear him utter the words, “And now ladies and gentleman, the moment you have all been waiting for; The Master!” The crowd gave a deafening roar as he and Davila came forward. He raised his hands to quiet the people, and their cheers subsided. “Ladies and Gentleman of Chicago, it is a great honor to be with you here today.” the Master began his speech. “And it gives me the greatest pleasure to come and heal the many of you who are sick in this crowd. I know how long you have waited, and I am here, here for you all!” The crowd cheered in a loud roar when he finished. He again quieted them with his arms and began to speak again. “The pain of your great city has not been felt, or the cries of the wounded been heard. But I am here to change that! I am here, to comfort your sorrows, to lead you in your days of wandering, and I am here to heal your wounds!” The loudspeakers boomed his words and the crowd cheered even louder. Blagdon and Nathan both wondered if this was even possible, but the fact couldn’t be denied. Blagdon could wait no longer. He casually reached for the pistol. The Master continued with his speech, and because everyone’s attention was drawn to him it made it all the more easier for him to pull it out. The Master was continuing his speech, and now was his only chance. Blagdon threw the pistol up and drew a bead on the Master’s head. It took mere seconds and then, “BOOM!” He then teleported the pistol into Maurin’s hand and raised it, pointing it at the Master. But the Master had not fallen. What happened?! Then he saw it. The Master had taken a step towards the crowd, and down one of the steps. He had missed and hit the Master’s arm. But he was not doubling over in excruciating pain. Why? Blagdon could then see no hole in the Master’s arm. A lady in the front row first noticed the blood on the steps above the Master and she let out a scream that could wake the dead. The crowd went silent and realized what she had seen. Then more voices joined hers in unison. Maurin began staring dumbly at the weapon in his outstretched hand, and then next minute he realized what had happened. He saw the policemen crowding in towards him and so he decided to make a break for it. Shouts began to rise from the crowd, “HE DID IT!!!! HE TRIED TO KILL THE MASTER!!!!” Maurin did not stand a chance. He made it twenty feet and then he was wrestled to the ground by two burly policemen, both sergeants. “Where’d you think you’re going pal?!” the one said in a very husky voice. They cuffed him and yanked him to his feet. Many in the crowd were trying to beat him, and many began to spit upon him. He was never so humiliated or betrayed in his life than at this moment. How could that have happened? They led him straight passed the Master and he gave him the most sincere, helpless look he could to try and get his compassion, but all that was returned was a glare, of a fiery brew in no mood for compassion, only of hate, and regret. The policemen hauled him off to the nearest cruiser and shoved him inside. |
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Welcome to All! I think you all can guess from the itle that I have posted Chapter 10! Sorry it took so long, but all of this darned schoolwork bogged me down too much and I wasn't able to write for about a month. Fortunately I was able to revive my muse enough to finish Chapter nine and get three pages done on Chapter 10. If I can I will finish it today. Enjoy! This is an excerpt of "Dark Prophet" by ThrillAuthor. Please do not copy it in any form or fashion. All Rights Reserved.
The pillars of fire rose around Nathan. All he could see before him was a sloping path, leading on for what seemed like miles. He got up from where he had been kneeling and stretched. The narrowness of the path and the pillars of fire made Nathan uncomfortable, but there was nowhere else to go, and he did not want to remain where he was. He slowly pulled himself together and started walking. The pain increased in his legs as he started and he was almost inclined to fall back down, but Nathan was almost certain that this would result in further pain, and so he limped on. He could see dead, charred trees every so often through the flames that roared along the path, and so kept track of the distance he traveled. The progress was grueling and it made him even wearier than when he first started this journey. The sweat made his shirt cling to his body and every step felt like lead. Excruciating pain like hot irons being shoved through his feet all the way to his knees kept him from pressing forward faster. The crackling of the flames was his only company, as were the trees, and the dirt of the path. He once wavered to the edge and looked over. There was an endless chasm, and so he decided to look over the other side, and there was also an endless depth. The flames just licked the surface seeming to come from nowhere. The intensity of this heat was scorching when Nathan had gone to both sides and forced him to retreat back to the middle of the path. Nathan wiped his forehead and trudged on, feeling no hope in the way this path was leading him. He wondered if he should just jump over the side of the path and be done with the whole excursion. But something inside him pulled him back from this reckless endeavor. Suddenly he saw it. Off in the distance there was a small door. This brightened Nathan’s spirits and he decided he had to make it! Slowly he pushed himself to go faster. This was much more grueling than before and his legs cried out for mercy and compassion. He would not, and could not give them that. If he did he would most certainly not make it, then he might be doomed to remain in this hell of his. And it was quite appropriate he labeled it so; though quite strange since he had no need for God or Satan in his own perfect world outside this. A chuckle reached his own lips at the thought of this and pressed on a tiny bit faster. But his laugh was drowned out by another. He looked around frantically and could not see anything. He recognized the evil laughter and began to push harder to reach the door. The laughter echoed as though it were in a canyon and began to close in on Nathan. “SSSSSOOOONNNN OOOOOOOFFF AAAADDDAAAAM!!!!!!” the voice echoed. “SSSSSOOOONNNN OOOOOOOFFF AAAADDDAAAAM!!!!!!” Nathan pushed himself to make it, he could see the door, just there, and not more than two hundred yards away. All he had to do was make it. The voice echoed again, “SSSSSOOOONNNN OOOOOOOFFF AAAADDDAAAAM!!!!!!” Nathan reached his arm out in desperation, seemingly to grab the handle that was not there. The next thing Nathan knew he was falling to the ground and landed with a great crash. He could feel the claws of an evil creature on his back. They poked him as it walked forward. Then he could feel them lifting off, as he was lifted to his own feet. He could see the door was inches away for his face and forgetting the creature he reached for the knob and yanked on it, only to find it locked. His heart sank and resigned itself to the fate before it. Once more the voice boomed behind him, “SSSSSOOOONNNN OOOOOOOFFF AAAADDDAAAAM!!!!!!” Nathan took a deep breath and screamed, “WHAT IS IT YOU WANT FROM ME????” A deep chuckle resounded through the darkness and filled the whole cavern. It was joined by multitudes of other laughs, much the same as this one, but higher in pitch. The laughter resounded until it was cut into silence by one word. The creature cleared his throat and said, “I told you that you cannot escape!” At that the beast yanked the door open, cut the stitches on Nathan’s arm and threw him into the blinding light.
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Welcome to All! I have been Tagged by Kantare!
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Last night, America watched as history was made, and Barack "Hussein" Obama was elected President of the United States. But is that what we, America really needs? Much as you are all going to say "*gasp* Theynore! How could you? You seem to be a racist!" I can clearly tell you that I am not. I am firmly against many of the principles that Obama and Bieden stand for. I am more firmly against Bieden, the old white guy, than Obama, but they are both on the same track. Obama supported gun control in his terms in the Illinois Senate, Bieden has done the same in his political career. Obama and Bieden have supported the "Womans Right to Choose" lie, which says that if she wants and abortion she can just go right ahead at any time in the pregnancy. They have both supported Gay Rights. As money is the root of all evil, our country has been dragged down into the quagmire of defeat, and because of it we have focused our attention on the economy, and not the other issues that are so important. In this time of trial and the dark days ahead we must all join together and support each other. Will you join me in heavenly prayer to our Father, and ask him for guidance in these last days? Theynore |
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Welcome to All! I have my second tag! I've never done a tag like this (the other one was sort of a story tag) so if it's really bad that's why. It's from the dixiefiddler: 1. If you were to describe yourself as a color, what would it be?: Blue. 2. What is your favorite animal?: Antelope! or Mule Deer, gotta love 'em! 3. What is your favorite musical instrument?: electrick guitar or drums! 6. If you were an animal, what would you be?: An Elk, definitely an elk, or a Bighorn sheep! 7. What coin best describes you?: Hmm. Interesting question, I think the half-dollar describes me best. 8. Do you like tags?: Yes! 13. fiction or non-fiction?: Fiction I tag…Author Elf, Kantare, Ninwaii, Writer4Him, AnnomousGirl, Mariella1214…and anyone else who wants to do it. |
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Welcome to All! As of late I have been running into about a dozen and an eighth brick walls in my writing, my life and my schoolwork, which when you come to think of it is my life as of now. I have hit a dead end and my brain finally short fused about six or so hours ago. It sort of happened when I was trying to answer the chemistry question on polymers "Deer have antlers, Bison have horns, explain the difference" and my Algebra II work which not only came back with a 20/100 but I had to TRY and retake two quizzes, one which I tanked miserably on and the other which was destroyed when my browser crashed on me. My life has become the biggest tragedy since Oedipus. *twitches and reaches for sword at the mention* Oy! I don't think I've been this drained since that ten mile journey two weeks ago. "Ten Miles?! Are you crazy Theynore? Ten miles isn't that long!" I would agree, except it was uphill more than half the time and we were doing it on foot with packs that wayed a ton* and rifles that weighed about ten pounds each. Not that it wasn't worth it, it's just that your calfs start to really burn after the first four miles or so. Anyways, back on topic. I will need lots and lots of prayers to get through this, and I am certain that it won't be easy any which way it turns out, I'm just praying myself for the easiest-hard way that comes along. I have ranted much longer than I should, and I need to get back to that essay, *groans* so Tanna Togaen and God Bless! ~ThrillAuthor(Theynore) *figure of speech |
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Welcome to All! I am posting part of Chapter 9 from 'Dark Prophet', so enjoy! This is an excerpt from 'Dark Prophet' by ThrillAuthor. Please do not copy it in any form or fashion. All Rights Reserved.
“How? Why?” Blagdon started to mutter, amazed at what had just happened. “Don’t ask questions Blagdon. Just accept it. You know that you were meant for this. Deep down, you do.” Blagdon still looked at his hand, still crunched like it was holding the knife. He was speechless. He couldn’t think to say anything. How could he? This man, was trying to get him to kill the Master. “I am still not convinced.” He said. Again, the smile left Terrin and he seemed to be much more irritated. Blagdon knew that he was treading on thin ice, but he was not going to change loyalties at the drop of a hat. “You ignorant fool!” Terrin said, seething with anger, “I should kill you for your unbelief! How can you stand by and just take these things for granted?” Blagdon stared at him, galled at this sudden burst of rage. “How dare YOU think that I would just kill my Master at the drop of a hat. I will not just change because I posses some inner power. I cannot accept this until you can convince me that I am truly worthy of this. For all I know you could be sent from the Light One to distract me from my true purpose!” Terrin started to shake violently. Blagdon took another step back to make sure that if he did something he would be safe. There was a flash of light, and a mirage like looking through the heat of a fire, and Terrin changed. There, standing before Blagdon was the creature. Or a creature that was like the Great Creature that appeared to Gilim in the beginning. This creature had all the features described in the texts, but he was pure black, with fire blue eyes that burned with a hatred of him. He could see that he was going to die. “You, Blagdon, are too full of yourself.” Terrin said in a raspy, almost animated voice, “You want proof??!!! I will show you proof!” He grabbed Blagdon by the hood of his robe and yanked him into the air. Blagdon could smell the sulfur in his breath. Terror was in his eyes as he watched the mouth of this beast come nearer. Instead of biting his face off, like Blagdon thought he would, he breathed on him. He set him back down and said, “Now, say something to me.” Blagdon spoke, but instead of English, the ancient language came out. “You see,” Terrin said as he changed back into a man, “you are special.” He snapped his fingers and said, “Now speak again.” Blagdon spoke again, and this time he spoke in English, though he remembered how to speak in the ancient language. Terrin smiled wide. “Do you see my point now? You do have powers, and it is your destiny to take over the Master’s position. He is weak, and he does not use his power to gain people for the cause. If he was strong I would not have come to you.” Blagdon stared at him with a blank stare. Terrin could see the battle raging in his conscience, and he was winning. “A little more,” he said to himself, “and he will be mine!” He took a step towards Blagdon and touched his eyes. Blagdon gave a yelp of surprise and said, “I can’t see! What did you do to me?!” “It is only my last test to convince you.” Terrin said. He knew this would be going out on a limb, but he had to do it to convince this idiot of his true potential. If he failed it would be Hell to pay. No pun intended. He grabbed one of the staffs that were leaning up against the opposite wall in the meditation room. He tossed it to Blagdon, and he instinctively caught it. “What is this?” Blagdon asked. “It is a staff. I am going to attack you, and you will defend yourself.” Swiftly he took his own stick and swung at Blagdon. He caught the blow and went on the attack. It was all over in three seconds. They perried back and forth, and then Blagdon pulled a trick and sent the staff flying upwards .It crashed down on one of the meditation bags. “Very good!” Terrin exclaimed. He came up to Blagdon, took the staff from his hand and placed his own over Blagdon’s eyes. The light came pouring in, and Blagdon had to shield his eyes because he felt it was so bright. The meditation room was one of the darkest rooms in the entire mission, and yet it was too bright for Blagdon. “Ahh! It is too bright!” he screamed. “Yes, it is.” Terrin said, “Do I have your acceptance.” Blagdon thought. He rolled back his thoughts to the emotions that had been boiling inside him during the entire time he had been here with this man. |
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Welcome to All! Now, for the moment you have all been waiting for; *Booms into loudspeaker* CHAPTER 8! *Cheering and fanfare in the background* This is an excerpt of 'Dark Prophet' that ThrillAuthor is currently writing. Please do not copy it in any form or fashion. All Rights Reserved.
“This is good. He hasn’t been here. All I have to do is wait for this man of intense evil.” Eustis said in a bitter voice as he walked to the couch. Mark sat on the bed in the room he was staying. “A little more time,” he muttered, “that’s all I need.” He looked to the wall, where he had placed a satanic cross. “A little more time and I will have the money for the Dark One to reign forever! Now, to take care of the brat and I will be free to sacrifice the mother!” He stood and walked to the safe that he was boring into. He hadn’t joined that den of thieves just for the cash. He went over the plan slowly and carefully, sure not to leave out any details in the case that he made a mistake; which he wouldn’t. He had an idea that the boy used the room two doors down the hall on the opposite side as sort of a sanctuary. The aura that was being given off could say as much. He would lure the boy to the balcony, drug him with ether, and then throw him over the railing. He would pretend like he saw the tragedy and cry out for the mother to come. When she did, he would drug her and then take her to the altar he had constructed for this purpose. He would chant and then kill her for the Dark One. He would rummage her belongings for the key to the safe and finish the job. He had realized that the safe was too thick for him to get into, and he wouldn’t have any other choice than that key, because if he kept this up for much longer they would both be suspicious and see everything; it would all be over. He put the ether cloth in his pocket and walked out the door. He could not see the “sanctuary door”, as he called it, closed, and so he walked down to it, not sure if it was inhabited. The senses that had been bestowed upon him by the minions of the Dark one told him there was. Eustis heard Mark coming, but he did not react. He just continued to fiddle with his little stick. He seemed to have an innate fascination with it for the most peculiar reason that he couldn’t understand. He saw Mark’s shadow in the doorframe, and he continued to concentrate on the stick. Mark saw this, and walked to the window, hoping that maybe the boy wouldn’t make too much of a struggle. He would take it slow, and not make a scene before the time. He was feeling a strong pulse from the boy, and was sure that it wouldn’t be good to touch him unless he came of his own accord. “Eustis,” Mark said in a mellow, almost seductive voice, “come to the balcony, I want to show you something.” But Eustis did not respond. He ignored Mark and continued to fiddle with his stick. Mark had not expected this. He said it again. Still Eustis did not come. “Curse you boy! DID YOU NOT HERE ME???!!!” Mark screamed, forgetting the plan entirely, “Or are you daft too???” he reached to strike the boy, but his arm was caught in the air, and wrenched backwards with a force that would have thrown any other man over. When Mark looked, there was no one there holding his arm. “I know what you are doing Mark. You won’t get away with it.” Eustis said in a calm and gentle voice, “You are full of lies and hate. You do not come into this house of good intentions.” Mark felt his throat being clutched, and he grasped at the invisible hand with the free one he had. His eyes filled with terror as he looked at the boy. Eustis stopped his fiddling, and Mark now saw what he was playing with. A piece of wood fashioned smooth and round, six inches long, with points on both ends. It levitated from his hand for a second, and Mark’s fear deepened. His gaze never left the stick, but he felt himself being picked up off the ground. He wondered if the stick was to represent him. He had a feeling that the child was influenced by the Dark One, but his was only a guess. “Goodbye Mark.” The stick shot for him, without any effort on Eustis’ part, and plunged through Mark’s throat. Blood spurted onto his shirtless chest, and he tried to look down. But at that moment he was thrown through the curtains and plunged through the railing of the balcony. He hurtled to the earth below. Eustis listened as the sound of crunching bones reached his ears only seconds after Mark descended. “Thus falls the disciple,” Eustis said. He got up from his spot on the couch and walked to the balcony. He looked down at the lifeless form. He spat and the spittle fell onto the body and sizzled. He walked to the room where Mark had been staying and opened the door that had been closed when Mark had come to him. He saw the symbol on the wall, and kneeled. “Your sacrifice, oh Dark One.” |
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Note from the board of sanitariums. This author has been found to be insane and will be transported to the funny farm immediately. Not! Hello to all my readers. I am, however, close to cracking. I have to read and do a Unit all about Greek Theatre and Oedipus Rex. Oh joy! Greek theatre is about as crazy as it gets. I would rather be writing the play than reading it, let all know this fact. After reading to the 220th line in the play, my brain melted and I have become a mindless zombie. HELP! Oh Lord, I beseach thee, on bended knee *looks down and sees that he is not on his knee, bends down and kneels* Help me get through this sacralige, and let me not die of boredom. Amen. Pray for me, I'm gonna need all the help I can get. I will try and post more of my story soon, if I can find time to write it |
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Welcome to All! I'm posting a little excerpt on Chapter 6. I hope you enjoy. This is an excerpt of Chapter 6 from the book 'Dark Prophet' by ThrillAuthor. Please do not copy it in any form or fashion. All Rights Reserved.
His world plunged into black darkness. Nathan acknowledged this as something good at first. He wasn’t in for any surprises this time. The air started to heat up considerably, and Nathan was beginning to sweat. He was confused and was wondering if he should try and wake up. Since he couldn’t see anything, it was futile to try anything. His mind was screaming for him to run, and his feet began to obey. Slowly he walked forward. Amazingly, he was not hitting anything, or tripping over anything. Though his body was telling him to run, he just couldn’t put forth that kind of motivation. He continued on, walking for what felt like hours. All that he could here was the pitter patter of his own feet. He didn’t know what was beneath him, or why the temperature was going up. It was just nerve-racking for him to not know what was going to happen next. The only way to control his emotions was to keep walking. He just couldn’t take the pressure of the moment, it was too intense. He was going out of his mind and that was all there was to it. He had to get help, and he didn’t care who from. Until he woke up he was just going to have to keep walking. That was that, and he wasn’t going to change his mind for anyone. He started to here voices, and he increased his pace a notch. Whatever was out there he wasn’t going to be the one to find out what it was. The voices grew, and Nathan increased his pace even more. They seemed to be keeping up with him. The presence of these voices terrified Nathan to the core, and he wasn’t sure what it was that bothered him. A long, throated scream pierced the chattering, and forced Nathan into a run. A rush of hot air blew past Nathan, and he pushed himself even more to escape the danger that lay behind him. “Run, run, run all you can, son of Adam! It won’t help you!” a deep voice behind him said. A laugh descended through the darkness that poured hot waves of fear through Nathan and he kept running. The laugh followed him faster, and so did the voices, a little further behind though, Nathan thought. He began to put every fiber of his being into escaping. He had heard the words of this creature, but he didn’t care. He was going to do everything he could to escape this, this prison. He felt a strong push on his back and he fell face forward. He landed with a thud, and found that the ground he was running over was hot, and felt like fresh ambers on a fire. He heard a thud on either side of his body and knew that the creature had landed beside him. He felt hot breath pour past his cheeks, and he smelt the strong scent of sulfur coming from the creature’s mouth. “I told you that you couldn’t escape me, and you didn’t listen!” the creature said. He let out an angry scream into Nathan’s ear. It hurt, but Nathan could do nothing. He let go tears, and they sizzled on the ground below. The creature picked him up, and flew him up wards. He could see a tiny fleck of light that they were going towards, and he held his hands up to protect him from the light. It was too bright for him. The darkness seemed to be better than the light. It hurt just as much as the pain from being pushed down. They reached the light and the creature held him up and said, “A little gift before you go.” He slashed Nathan across his right shoulder and then tossed him into the light. “Nathan! Nathan! Wake up!” Jon said. Nathan felt himself being shaken by Jon. He nearly attacked Jon, but held back his emotions. He shielded his eyes from the light, and asked, “What time is it?” Jon was relieved to see that Nathan was alive. He had seen him tossing and sweating and felt that it might be a good idea to bring Nathan out of it before he became a basket case. “It’s six o’clock Nathan.” Jon said. Nathan blinked and then said, “I have to get home. Let Nolan know that I’ll be back to work tomorrow.” Jon said that he would and Nathan went and grabbed his coat. |
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Welcome to All! I know that I have been posting a lot today, but I just couldn't resist when I thought of a new scene for 'Eyes'. I know it's short, but I haven't got that far with it yet. This is an excerpt from the book 'Eyes' by ThrillAuthor. Please do not copy this in any form or fashion. All Rights Reserved.
“Please, don’t shoot me,” Walt pleaded, “I have a wife and two kids at home!” The figure who held the gun on him thought and then said, “Alright, but if I ever catch you here again, I’ll kill you outright!” He turned and walked to the door. Walt reached for the knife in his boot and started to pull it out. It was stuck and he grunted when he tried to pull it out. It came free. The man walking to the door spun around with blinding speed and fired. BANG! BANG! BANG! He put two shots in Walt’s heart and one right between his eyes. He wavered a minute, and then fell face forward, dead in a pool of blood. “I guess I changed my mind,” the man said, “keep the presents.” He tossed the pistol onto the body and turned to walk out the door. |
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Welcome to All! I have decided to release the prologue from one of my most recent books. It hasn't progressed further than chapter 1, but I felt that the prologue was good enough to be posted. This is an excerpt from 'Six Feet Under' by ThrillAuthor. Please do not copy it in any form or fashion. All Rights Reserved.
Prologue In the beginning, God created light because there was darkness everywhere. He created heaven and earth and everything in them. He created man, and he was happy with all his creations, and to make man happy, he took a rib of man and made a woman for him. For all, light was symbolic and physical at the same time. There was harmony, shedding light to everyone even when the sun had gone down. But man sinned against God, allowing darkness and evil to enter the world. This removed the light and snuffed it out. Of course every now and then someone would show their light, but it would be dim and sooner or later also be snuffed out. The true light was gone. Man did what he desired without thought or care towards what God really wanted or deemed appropriate. God would choose his followers later on, but even they made the errors of those before them. It carried on until he deemed a people for himself. They of course did what he wanted in certain generations, but of course there were generations that did the exact opposite of what he deemed good and just in his eyes. He sent them prophets, and yet they still did not listen. Naturally, sometimes all or a few would listen, but these appalling generations rarely actually paid attention. So he allowed them to be overrun and taken captive to foreign lands. Since they did not listen, he spoke for the last time through the prophet Malachi. He ceased any guidance to them and allowed the civil war between the nations to be exploited by the Romans. The light had never been any dimmer than this point. He knew it was time and sent his one and only son, Jesus, to be that light that would shine for all time to all the peoples in the world. Though he died, many realized that he was the one spoken about by the prophets. Then that glorious morn three days after he was crucified showed he was truly the light in the darkness. He rose and showed that he had truly risen from the dead and that he had conquered death, once and for all. With this light, however, came judgment. Those steeped in sin must be judged unless acknowledged as redeemable by and through Jesus Christ. 21st Century The small town of A storm was brewing towards the mountains, and he figured that this call would only take fifteen minutes, so he braved the elements once again. With only fifteen or so people living in town, there wasn’t much trouble. The call that he got was from Marsha Taylor, she and her husband, Craig, were living at the old McDuffie place. He’d answered several of these calls and figured it was just another fight that was a tad out of control. The last time he had answered the call, though, it had been that they were now resorting to throwing some items around. To prevent any injuries, he pressed his cruiser to go ten over the speed limit on the back roads. He saw the car in the drive as he approached, and parked just behind it. He gave a “hello” and saw that the doors were open. It was dark inside, partly because there were shades on all the windows and partly because of the oncoming storm. He stepped over one of the overturned pieces of furniture, but didn’t see or here anyone. A soft cackle resounded down the hall and Kevin reached for his gun, at the ready for anything. The lights flickered on, and what he saw chilled him to the bone. His attention was to the left and he saw a chair that was backwards on the ground. Lying in it was Craig. He was actually more sprawled that laying, with a fire prod sticking out of his chest, with glazed over eyes of terror. He looked for Marsha and then saw her. There she was, strung from the ceiling, hung dead. A stool lay knocked over beneath her. He was just about to cross over to Marsha’s body, when he heard the laugh again. A man in black stood in the entrance to the hallway. He had a mask of blood red on, with air holes at the mouth. He spoke in a voice that chilled Kevin to the bone, “Hello Kevin. You don’t remember me, but I remember you perfectly. Time to pay for your sins. Your little secret won’t stay safe for long.” He let out another long evil laugh. As he did, the lights went off again. He fumbled for the flashlight on his belt and went down the hall. The strange thing about the McDuffie house is that the living room is separated from the rest of the house. The stairs to go to the second level are at the entrance of the hallway, while at the back is a wall, which has the kitchen to the right of it, and the den to the left. Kevin was about to proceed up the stairs, when something on the wall at the back of the hallway caught his attention. He put light on it and walked closer. He stopped short and stood, stunned at what he read. As he read, cold chills ran up and down his spine. Written in red, most likely Craig’s blood was, “Time to pay up Kevin. No one’s safe with your sin in hiding. Take these two as a warning.” He moved away and decided to go up the stairs. He put his foot on the first step and a loud, “BOOM!” resounded from the outside. He ran out and saw that the car that had been in the drive had just exploded. A note lie on the hood of his cruiser, “Consider this your second warning.” It stopped him cold and numbed his mind. For a few seconds he couldn’t even think of what to do next. His world spun and he almost considered fainting. He steadied himself on the hood of the cruiser, and then decided to drive back to town. He jumped in and started the car. It roared to life and he kicked in reverse down the gravel drive. He tried to call headquarters, but his radio was dead. “How odd,” he thought in a panic as he drove over the limit back to town. |
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Welcome to All! I am posting another section of 'Dark Prophet' today! This part came as a spark of inspiration, and I will warn you is a bit of a tear-jerker. The following is an excerpt of the book 'Dark Prophet' by ThrillAuthor. Please do not copy it in any form or fashion. All rights reserved.
In this subtle pause, Nathan drifted back in time. The smell of freshly baked cherry pie wafted across his nostrils. His mouth watered as he ran to the house. His mother was quite famous for her cherry pies. If only to him. His mothers’ voice called out across to him as he ran in the back door, “Nathan, is that you dear?” Her voice was just as delicious and melodious as her pies. Of course, when she was cross it could be quite frightening, but most of the time it was very sweet like honey. “Yes mom, it’s me!” He decided to slow to a walk, so that maybe he could get a bigger slice of pie if he kept his manners in check. “Were you playing in the ditch Nathan?” she asked in that stern voice of hers, kind of a cross between her nice voice and her angry voice. Nathan slowed even more and answered, pausing to think it over, “I would like to say no, but my clothes would say quite a different story.” He was quite good with words, considering that most eight year olds don’t usually talk that way. “Well,” his mother said, “Go and get changed, and wash up a bit. Then you can have some pie. Hurry it up, though, I want to talk to you about something.” Hearing her say that he could have pie made him get into turbo gear. He ran to his room and gathered some clothes and then rushed to the bathroom. He never remembered being this excited about taking a bath before, but with pie at stake, anything was possible. He got through with his very short bath in record time and rushed to dry off and put on his clothes. He rushed out the bathroom door and went straight for the kitchen and leaped into the nearest chair, which happened to have a piece of pie in front of it. The fresh juice was dripping down the sides and the cherries were twice as big as the ones from last week’s pie. He took a big spoonful and then asked with a full mouth, “So mother, (gulps the helping down) what is it that you wanted to talk about?” She turned to talk with him, and then put her hand over her mouth and giggled. “Honey, you have some of that pie dripping down you face. Here, let me help you,” she said as she grabbed a napkin to help out, giggling all the while. “That’s better,” she said after wiping away most of the juice, “Now I can talk to you with a serious face. I have some depressing news for you. Well, some of it is good and some of it is bad. Grandpa is coming to visit for a few days. The bad news is that he might die soon. That’s part of the reason that he is coming.” She paused to let Nathan digest the news. “I don’t know if he can handle this. Why did I have to tell him?” she asked herself. Nathan set his spoon down and held his chin, stroking it every now and then, quite deep in thought. She could see that he was keeping the flood of emotions at the gate of his heart; he wouldn’t be keeping it back for much longer. “I would like to have you spend as much of your time with him as you can. I know that you don’t know him very well, but I think that this would be a good experience for you.” She waited for him to say something, but he didn’t say anything. “You can think it over for a while, and then you can tell me how you think you can best spend your time with your grandfather.” She walked out the kitchen door and had to wipe away a couple of tears that were coming to here eyes. Nathan stared at the picture on the wall in front of him. He still sat at the table, chin on his hand. It was a picture of grandfather. He had only a couple of memories of his grandfather. They were of the times he came to visit, once when he was four, the other when he was five. He knew that it was selfish for him to not want to spend any time with his grandfather, and he really did want to spend time with him. This wasn’t the reason he was thinking. He was wondering what could have happened if he had spent more time with him. He knew really little about the man anyways, and it seemed like a shame to not know him before he passed on. He resolved that he would spend every minute, every second that he possibly could with his grandfather. This decision firmly in place he went back to voraciously attacking the pie. It took mere minutes for him to devour the whole thing. He wiped his mouth with the napkin his mother had provided him with and went to look for her. He decided that it would be best to look for her in the master bedroom, since he hadn’t heard either of the doors, front or back, close. He heard light sobbing coming from behind the door to the bedroom, and he hesitated to open the door. He thought that it was odd that he hadn’t heard the door close, but then again his mother was good at not letting him hear things. “Should I open it?” he asked himself, “It sounds like she is crying. I don’t know.” He reached forward, and then pulled his hand back, thinking better of just entering. “Mother,” he called out, “can I come in?” He heard her stop making the sound, whatever it was, and she said, “Yes, yes you can come in.” He opened the door and walked in. His mother was facing away from the door, and it sounded like she was sniffling a little. He was fairly sure that she had been crying. She was wiping her eyes with one of her hands, and then she turned around. “Yes Nathan. What did you want to talk about?” Seeing her like this he wasn’t sure that he wanted to talk. But he knew that if he didn’t talk to her now, he probably wouldn’t have the courage to talk to her later. “Mother,” he began in a somewhat shaky voice, “I came to talk about Grandpa’s visit.” She wiped a stray tear from her eye and asked, “What have you decided Nathan?” He took a deep breath and said, “I haven’t really decided anything yet. Don’t get me wrong! I do want to spend time with Grandpa; I just don’t know what I want to do with him. Mother, I just want to spend as much time as I can with Grandpa while he’s here.” A small tear trickled from his eye. He didn’t know why he was feeling so emotional. It could be because of his mother. His mother cracked a small smile and said in a soothing voice, “Come here. Give me a hug.” He came forward, hesitant with arms stretched towards her. He broke the apprehension and ran into his mother’s open arms. She caught him and they both sobbed silently, expressing their love and sorrow in that silence. It was ten minutes before his mother let go and looked at him, holding his hands. “I know how much this will mean to you. Even though you don’t remember your father much, I know that you still miss him. It kind of feels this way with grandpa, doesn’t it?” she asked. He nodded silently, head bowed. “Don’t be sad. I know how much you need a father figure. I also know how much it hurts. Losing someone you love is painful. And you will always carry that pain with you. You might not always feel it, but it’s there and it will attack you when you don’t expect it.” Nathan looked up into his mother’s deep blue eyes and could see pain, and love in the same glance. “Nathan,” she said, “your father loved you very much. More than you could ever know. That’s why he went off to fight. He knew that his duty was to you and to me, and to all of those who are like us. He went to fight for our country, and he gave the ultimate sacrifice. It may seem like he deserted us, and it may seem like grandpa deserted us when he’s gone, but you have to fight that feeling and tell yourself that it’s not true. Do you understand?” Nathan held her gaze for a long time and then finally nodded his head, letting go another flood of emotions.
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Welcome to All! This is a filler message to push down the previous message so that the friends link can be shown. ~ThrillAuthor(Theynore) |