Monday, February 25, 2008

New Years Eve

Stardate Tuesday in the year of our lord November 26, 2002 Revised by author Jan 16, 2008

On the Tayana sailing vessel “Tusentakk” with friends we were toasting New Years Eve. My Scandinavian ears pricked up “Help him, Help him” I flung back the words “baby someone’s in trouble” at Robert a friend of mine. I hit the Tayanas companionway ladder on the fly and then into the cockpit and up onto the deck, I scrambled over the lifelines, grabbed hold of the rum line then away I ran down the finger pier, off in the direction towards our pier.
I assessed the situation, an older couple had recently moved to our pier area and the sounds of distress from the woman’s screams “Help him, help him,” shook my foundation. Robert’s quick thinking ensured the best plan of action; as they say in the navy when you are surrounded by the enemy, you negotiate.
Dangling from Robert’s iron grip on the scruf of his neck was the middle aged neighbor. Robert shoved him back onto the swim ladder of their powerboat. The wife of the powerboat owner upset to say the least. I got her to calm down since Robert had rescued her husband from out of the marina bay. “Our dogs” she cried emotionally.
I knew in my heart that the little dog had only a ghost of a chance. The dog had been in the water too long, exhaustion would overcome the small creature. Since the humans were rescued, I tuned in to the wavelength of the panicked animal, hunters instincts, set all aside, and focused on the animal that belonged to the rescued man.
It was dark this night and difficult to see the animal. My instincts told me to listen, listen. I heard the labored breathing of the dog, and spotted him swimming true to the cause extremely close to our boat. I called, coaxing the animal to me and also drew on the gifts of my ancestors. He swam towards me. I hailed Robert my best friend who at this time was in the canoe we keep moored to side of the Columbia sailing vessel.
Robert grabbed the dog again a rescued mariner by the scruff of the neck and sloshed it into the canoe. The moment the dog was placed on the wooden planked finger pier, his legs collapsed out from underneath his exhausted body.
The adventure was over. An ambulance had been hailed and arrived at pier sixteen. The local politzia had seen all the commotion from across the waters as they were patrolling the island. All was well, but this happened quite awhile back. All the training, instincts and courage will replay like a black and white movie in the theater of your mind just in time, in a panicked situation. Alas a panicked boater will drag you down to your death if you cannot take control of the situation. Play it once more for old time sakes Sam. Sam where is Sam when you need him. I hope he is an experienced boater or we will be rescuing him.

Take one Lei Lani and the curse of the Tiki kings.

Something in the works from creative writing Fall 2008 in the year of our Lord

Night was like a velvet blanket, the stranger’s shadows cast an ominous silhouette, this shadow, it was obsidian dark, such rich darkness, as rich and luxuriant as the earth, coffee dark tones, yes, they were so dark and heavy, like a heavy silk blanket that reaches out, then seemed to touch and cloak my very soul.
As I checked my weary brain for the ninth or tenth time, and heart divided among many treacherous, treasonous temptations, another night’s mystery yet unfolds, I ponder yet once more to look deep into my weary soul, Yes, you ask me, this is a strange tale indeed to tell thee stranger.
Take one Lei Lani and the curse of the Tiki kings.
Lovely Lei Lani mused sadly, here her eyes followed along sapphire sparkles. Yes, a long winding waterway travels off into the distant night, night birds prepare for a long night’s journey. The song is enthralling yet melodically touches the heart in secret places.
Suddenly a golden coy fish jumps high, his presence magical. Remnants of the coy fishes golden reflection mirror in Lei Lanis hazel eyes and once more betray her sorrow.
“Kona Kai”, she whispered softly, from coral colored lips, moist as dew on plumeria petals.
“Lei Lani”, answers the ancient tiki hidden in the dark recesses of the islands lush foliages. Standing in the darkest shadows, the tiki was tall, and foreboding. Echoes of thunder, from the wooden statue shake the foliage. This voice was now so powerful, and sounding of the islands thunderous sea breakers. Yes, powerful thunder, the timber of ancient voices, sounds arising, building to a maddening crescendo, once welled up in the souls of the ancient ones. This thunder, this storm of anger, is the testimony of the ancient ones to tonight’s events, then a hush.
“Tonight the fire dance brings warriors once more to the village”. Lei Lani lamented fearfully. “War once more, when peace could soon reign” Lei Lanis voice faded into the thick forests depths, as in the depths of the shadows the giant tikis eyes glowed red-orange. Lei Lani then bowed her head in silence, her ebony tresses danced across her hips. She tossed the circlet of flowers that had once wreathed her brow onto the placid sapphire waters, her beauty was radiant in the dimness.
And in answer giant wooden feet once rooted firmly to his ancestral stone pedestal, this carving moved wooden feet. A dream, perhaps I dreamed. This is all a dream.
Kona Kani was very angry indeed, his wooden carved eye hollows glowed orange citrine fires. The native drums began again and night’s creature’s stirred, powerful wooden feet tested volcano blackened sands. Bum didda bum dah Trailed off
Kona kani's heart was still as it had been before he had been cursed.

Rouge and Noir take One

There exist a number of bottled, uncorked, sweet delectable vintages in an antique cabinet by the passageway. However, the brass key, its whereabouts, whispered to her by the hermit only last Tuesday as they supped besides the softly tumbling waves at the shoreline and dined on hot cinnamon spiked tea and chilled fruit.
Gleaming, diminutive pear shaped remnants; vestiges of vin ordinaire portions hastily consumed still shimmer from an arachnid’s lace weavings. Shining through the stained glass windows, the sunlight transforms each minute drop to diamond brilliance as the intense bright light diffuses downward into the humble abode, steeling like a mischievous black cat tiptoeing on velvet padded feline feet. A secret, yes a dark secret dwells in this feline beasts soul.
On another night, the moonlight will betray this creatures long lost secret. Where she now pads silently perusing her carefully guarded domain on “all fours”, there still exists, there still is retained the beloved gift of feline intuition. Primitive emotions race through the beast’s wild unchallenged beast heart. Her cat brain, feverish in it’s frenzied activity, painstakingly sorting the details of the encounters, as she silently strides forth, a silent sentinel to the nights partaking.
Tonight the moon wanes high above skeletal trees, the jet-black branches outlines stark and foreboding against a scarlet backdrop.
For tonight as is want and doomed destiny with her kind, there becomes a transformation, she licks her feline lips in anticipation.
Oh, for tonight, she quickens her cat steps as she hears an ardent howl from a nearby sagebrush. Her eyes follow the shadows.
Rouge and Noir Saga of a changeling
Almond hazel eyes transfixed, Sable Carlisle muses at the reflections in the silver lined bowl. Nearby, lulled into her feline purring by the tranquility of the evening hours those soft rumblings is emitted from the silver touched, ghost gray tabby. Sable’s furred friend is now stretched out on the divan. The little feline form of le chat is poised as would be a distance runner, as she languishes her newfound weekend freedom.
What’s this! Cloudy unshaped images appear in the silver bowl in front of Sable’s very eyes. Just now, in the bottom portion of her pet’s bowl, the storm clouds hasten away, swirling into the hazing whirlwind as if from a dream. Soft blue ripples appear manifesting themselves into more concrete shapes. Sable listens for any sounds, but hears only purring and the wind outside her windowpanes.
Here there is true evidence of a very masculine silhouette. This creature now appears to be laying on a long stretch of storm ravaged tropical beach. He is evidently unconscious. Soft, dark golden curls swept across his brow. A chill creeps across Sables very feminine softly rounded shoulders. She cannot shake this vision. How this apparition has hounded her so. Now again she responds to the beckoning call in her mollified mind’s eye.
In the vision the apparition of the male creature stirs, slightly, dark golden lashed eyelids flutter as if butterfly wings, the lashes touch lightly upon his sun-touched skin.
Slowly, ever so slowly the curtains to his soul rise. Silver blue eyes, their vision blurry at first, begin to adjust to the strengthening daylight. The first images to his mind are such as they convey thoughts, thoughts that are bewildered and betraying distrust, and these same eyes survey his surroundings.
The necklace, it’s whereabouts, the coin the silver coin worn constantly about his neck, all this concern for a small bit of metal.
Falling back wearily, Sable slipped back into her chair. Ravens wing colored tresses tumbled down her back in disarray.