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Where are you taking me?” Andrew demanded, whirling on the Ferryman. His muscles tensed, hands curling in and out of fists. “To my master.” The voice was ghostly, whispers of black ash and death, words cold and detached. He had an idea who that was but asked anyway: “And who is your master?” No answer came. Andrew’s insatiable rage rose up and swallowed his grief like a yawning ocean mouth, the darkest depths surging to the surface to form a mighty tidal wave. He closed the distance and seized the Ferryman’s gaunt wrist. There was no substance, no life beneath the cloak. The Ferryman slowly turned his hooded head, and Andrew found himself looking into the black hole of a self-contained night. The olfactory of decay was a punch in the face. Andrew released the Ferryman’s wrist and hastily stepped back, rocking the boat as he put distance between him and the unnatural wind spilling from the gaping orifice. Andrew shivered, the tiny hairs on his neck saluting. The cloaked head faced forward again, and the wind died away. ↗
#fantasy #fiction #key-of-pearl #laura-kreitzer #paranormal-fantasy
In some counties, there is an actual named crime of ritual abuse and there too, there have been convictions. ↗
Az oxigén nélkül hagyott szívizomzat nagy frekvenciával reszket, ütések híján vért nem továbbít, beáll a kamrafibrillatio. A sinuscsomó, mely individuális ritmust adott, mindenkinek a személyes ritmusát, nagy zavarodottságában leáll a maga ütemével, s akkor legalábbis átmenetileg nincs szívműködés. Mindennapi tudatát elveszíti az ember, bár az orvosokkal ellentétben nem mondanám, hogy elveszíti az eszméletét. Jobban észnél voltam, mint bármikor. És akkor valami nagyon érdekes kezdődik, valami fantasztikus történik, tulajdonképpen erről kéne beszélni. 121 122 Olyasmi folytatódik, amit igen nehéz szavakkal megragadni, mert a halál előtti állapotban csaknem érvényét veszíti az egyezményes időszámítás. Egy nagy villanykapcsolót lekattintanak, magát a főkapcsolót. Amitől a látás, az észlelés és a gondolkodás közel sem szűnik meg. E párhuzamosan működő funkciók a frissen szerzett észleléseiket azonban nem a tudat egyezményes időrendjére fűzik fel. ↗
Idag samlar vi skor och bilar, igår flintyxor. Utan tvivel har arkeologer funnit betydligt fler flintyxor än vad människan rimligtvis behövde. Jag tror att flintyxorna handlar om en längtan, kanske en rädsla. Om jag bara har tillräckligt många flintyxor, eller skor, eller ett nyrenoverat kök så kan inget ont hända. Det är den där dödsångesten igen. Den otäcka insikten att allt, allt, allt är förgängligt. Jag kommer att dö, men mina flintyxor kommer att finnas kvar. (Och de fanns ju kvar, eller hur? Men vad hjälper det?) ↗
Life and all that is in it is a gift from the infinite mind / God; And the only way that life can go wrong is by the limited finite mind / Man. ↗
#life #living #meaning-of #reason-for #death
She had seen the almost-human Orona, who was orphaned and alone in the world, a woman whom Cain had plucked off the streets and fallen in love with. What she didn’t see was the undead creature Cain barely knew, the foolish human girl who fell in love with the caretaker of the seas. She hadn’t seen me stand up against a hurricane or keep a cave from crushing two lovers to death. She hadn’t seen me throw myself over the ones who would have turned to ashes when the volcano erupted, or made water appear from the sands to the dying in the desert. She did not know I was both savior and destroyer to so many souls. ↗
#romance #sea #sea-quotes #true-love #death
It was the first day in the life of the new lean and mean Peabody. An hour later, she lay on the grubby floor wheezing like the dying. Her quads and hamstrings burned, her glutes wept, and her arms couldn't stop screaming for mama. "Never doing this again," she announced. "Yes, you are," she corrected. "Can't. Dying. Can. Will. Help me, I think I broke my ass. Wimp, pussy. Shut up. ↗
For brick and mortar breed filth and crime, With a pulse of evil that throbs and beats; And men are whithered before their prime By the curse paved in with the lanes and streets. And lungs are poisoned and shoulders bowed, In the smothering reek of mill and mine; And death stalks in on the struggling crowd— But he shuns the shadow of the oak and pine ↗
#city #outdoors #urban #wilderness #woodcraft
El mar era Carlos Vives desde que nos escapamos tres días a una playa desierta en Cozumel. Lo miraba tratando de recuperar algo. ¿Qué sería mejor? Tanto tuvimos. ¿Por qué no la muerte?, me preguntaba, si hasta los días que pasamos en el mar resultó inevitable jugar con ella. ↗
