It hardly seems possible that the Fourth of July has come and gone, but come and gone it has. I hope you all had a rewarding and fun day. After all, the birthday of America should be cause for celebration. We did get our beach back and for some reason, this year was pretty tame compared to year’s past. Folks tended to stay longer, but I think there were more families than drunks. (Which is saying a lot)
The fireworks were at a minimum as well. I think the police were giving some extra attention to those who were lighting them. They are illegal here in Port Aransas but legal is only as good as enforcement.
This week’s JohnKu gives a nod to the Birthday of America. I hope you like it.
Enter the world of Windemere with 11 action adventure short stories featuring a man who is out to make an honest living.
Some heroes seek fame. Some seek fortune. Others simply want to save the world. Ichabod Brooks only wants to put food on the table for his family.
Known and respected as the man who can get any job done, Ichabod has seen his share of adventure. Most of which have been highly exaggerated by bards. Still, the man has his famous reputation for a reason. Whether it be climbing a temperamental mountain for eggs or escorting orphans to their new homes, Ichabod takes every job seriously and makes sure he is as prepared as he can be. Not that it helps since things always take a turn for the worse.
“Is this any way to greet an old friend?” a dwarf in dark gray chainmail asks before plugging his ears with his dark red beard. Wanting the bard to stop, the mountaineer marches over and puts a hand over the young woman’s mouth. “Are you supposed to use her as bait? I did hear there’s a hobgoblin pack that moved in a few months ago. You know how those drooling scavengers love elf flesh.”
“Sorry about that, Dex. She latched on at my last stop and I haven’t been able to shake her off,” Ichabod replies, shaking his guide’s hand. He rubs his own black and white beard at the sight of how his friend shows no sign of graying. “I have to give this one credit for tenacity, but this is where we part ways. Galaces Mountain is not a place to go unless you have experience, an excellent guide, and common sense. So far, I don’t see you having any of those things and I’m not going to babysit.”
“I must go. That’s the only way I can write about your newest adventure,” the bard insists, unwittingly proving Ichabod right. She crosses her arms and meets the icy stare of the dwarf, who she considers leaving out of her tale. “Being the first to speak of your climb will help my reputation. I promise not to cause any trouble and pull my own weight. Elves are graceful and agile, which makes us perfect companions for whatever it is you’re doing. Besides, Galaces Mountain doesn’t look like that bad a climb. The stories must be nothing more than colorful exaggerations.”
Ichabod puts on a pair of white-palmed gloves and slips a blue band on his finger, a charge going through his body to enhance his lungs. “I suddenly relate very well to this mountain. Take a look at the empty space between us and Galaces. You’ll see why this place has earned a reputation.”
The bard puts her lute over her shoulder and walks to the yellow rope, which sparks with a mild magic. At first, she is unsure of what she is supposed to pay attention to among the shrubs and fallen rocks. It takes the elf a few minutes to recognize weather worn bones sticking out from under a boulder. The limbs are splayed since the climber plummeted with the rough stone pressed against his back and the landing embedded him in the ground. Knowing what to look for, the bard realizes that there are at least ten old corpses hidden by the mountain’s litter. The bard spots the fresh body of a yellow-skinned creature sitting behind a shrub, the armored creature crumpled from landing butt first after its fall. She is about to ask a question when a small pain runs up her arm and she collapses into a magical slumber.
“Guess that’s more humane than knocking her on the head,” Dex mentions while Ichabod carries the young woman to the dwarf’s cart. He shields his eyes as he stares at the churning clouds that have been trapped around the peak. “Looks like the eagles captured a storm beneath their nest this year. Means the winds are going to be brutal and the tunnels are infested with horned spiders and revelers. Not going to be an easy trip. Sure, you don’t want someone else to take this contract?”
“I’d love to hand this off to someone else, but Chef Zyrk always insists that I take the job. I have no injuries, diseases, or family events, so I’m here,” Ichabod replies, sheathing his sleep-inducing shortsword. As an afterthought, he grabs a horse blanket and tosses it over the bard to hide her from view. “The Starwind Eagles lay eggs every ten years and now is the time to get to them. Wait any longer and the mountain will be crawling with hunters. A youngster wouldn’t know that or have you as a guide.”
The dwarf grins as he lifts the rope and gestures for his friend to lead the way. “They also don’t have your wife making deals that you can’t say no to. She mentioned that you’re getting three times the usual pay because this baby is going to be prepared for Duke Solomon’s wedding. Personally, I’m looking forward to your wife’s cooking after this. Surprised your gut isn’t huge considering that woman can make a pot roast even the gods would praise. Did you happen to bring some of her dishes for the road?”
“I can cook too, you know.”
“You can bake, Ichabod. Not the same as cooking in my book.”
“So you don’t want the cookies I brought.”
“Oatmeal and cranberry?”
“With a touch of cinnamon.”
*****
About the Author:
Charles Yallowitz was born and raised on Long Island, NY, but he has spent most of his life wandering his own imagination in a blissful haze. Occasionally, he would return from this world for the necessities such as food, showers, and Saturday morning cartoons. One day he returned from his imagination and decided he would share his stories with the world. After his wife decided that she was tired of hearing the same stories repeatedly, she convinced him that it would make more sense to follow his dream of being a fantasy author. So, locked within the house under orders to shut up and get to work, Charles brings you Legends of Windemere. He looks forward to sharing all of his stories with you, and his wife is happy he finally has someone else to play with.
Wednesday Story Day time again. Last week we overheard a conversation with Alice and Harriet. It looks like these two are going to take up where they left off. What is to become of Lucas if these two adopt him is anyone’s guess. We need to get back and see what is to happen this week.
“Oh my goodness. Where am I?”
“Hello I’m nurse Campbell and you are in the hospital.”
“Hospital? What happened?”
“You took a nasty fall from a roof. Do you know your name?”
“Uh, yes, It’s Lucas.”
“How about your last name?“
“Saveride.”
“Excellent. Well, Lucas, you took a fall and we have done out best to make you all better again.”
“Am I all better?”
“Time will tell. Your vital signs look good.”
“Why can’t I move my legs?”
“That is temporary we believe. You have feeling in your legs which we tested. Your body wants you to rest and this may just be a temporary paralysis.”
“I never heard of that before.”
“Oh, yes this is a common condition. We will get you into physical rehab and they will work out the kinks.”
“When do we start?”
“Tomorrow is your first session. Until then I want you to relax. The doctor will be in later to check on you. Mrs. Murphy and Mrs.Weston were here last night. They have been informed that you are awake. They will probably be in to see you sometime today.”
“As funny as it sounds, I’m not sure I will be up to seeing them.”
“We can restrict your visitors if you wish.”
“Let me think on it for a bit.”
“Okay. Let me know.”
“I’m a little confused right now.”
“You have every right.”
“I am having some difficulty remembering what happened. I am trying to remember those people you mentioned.”
“Very normal. It is nature’s way of giving you time to get used to your situation.”
“Situation?”
“Being in the hospital recovering from an accident.”
“Oh, that. I thought there is more.”
“The doctor will be in to see you. He can answer any questions you may have. I must go to other patients. If u=you need anything press this button here on your pillow.”
“Thank you, uh”
“Campbell.”
“Yes. Thank you, Nurse Campbell.”
Keith explains in his own words. “Using this photo (Below) as inspiration, write a short story, flash fiction, scene, poem; anything, really; even just a caption for the photograph. Either put it (or a link to it) in a comment or email it to me at keithkreates@channing.ino before 6 pm next Sunday (if you aren’t sure what the time is where I live, this link will tell you). If you post it on your own blog or site, a link to this page would be appreciated, but please do also mention it in a comment here – pingbacks don’t often work.
Go on. You know you want to. Let your creativity and imagination soar. I shall display the entries, with links to your own blog or web site, next Monday.
The inspiration for this list was my return from a ten-day trip. Just in case you wonder I am entirely innocent of any of these incidents. Hope you enjoy.
Top Ten Things Not to Do Returning From a Long Trip
10 If you are returning from a long trip, do not forget where you parked your car. If you do, at best security will help you find it. At worst, you’ll have to catch a cab home convincing your family that you need a physical intervention. (That brain MRI was a pleasant experience right, Bosco?)
9 If you are returning from a long trip, do not argue with the parking attendant about the price of parking. If you do, at best he will call the police. At worst, the attendant is Tiny the WWF champ who is working nights to pay his fine for the last criminal assault charge.(Looks like you had better use your feet to avoid this one, Buford.)
8 If you are returning from a long trip, do not arrive in the middle of the night and expect a warm welcome. If you do, at best you will be disappointed. At worst, your pit bull who is especially protective will confuse you with an intruder. (Good thing you have that tall tree in the front yard huh, Putz?)
7 If you are returning from a long trip, do not think the hotel shampoo and conditioner bottles count as souvenirs. If you do, at best the only one talking to you right now is you. At worst, you’ll have to find an alternate sleeping arrangement. (That couch is as lumpy as you thought isn’t it, Buster?)
6 If you are returning from a long trip, do not dump your laundry on the floor and declare, “No rush.” If you do, at best the pile will stay there forever. At worst, you may wonder why the Goodwill receipt is on your bureau. (On the plus side you can deduct the donation, Ferd.)
5 If you are returning from a long trip, do not make comments at dinner about how good the food was on the trip. If you do, at best you will be eating out for weeks. At worst, you will be invited to prepare the meals according to your taste. (That includes menu and shopping, Bunky.)
4 If you are returning from a long trip, do not think everyone you meet wants to hear about your experiences. If you do, at best people will avoid you. At worst, you will have to listen to the experiences of others. (It really gets to you when their trip sounds better than yours doesn’t it, Tex?)
3 If you are returning from a long trip, do not think everyone wants to hear you speak in the language of the place visited. If you do, at best most will believe that you are affected. At worst, you will meet someone fluent in the language, and you’ll be stumped. (A little hard to keep up after hello don’t you think, Pard?)
2 If you are returning from a long trip, don’t keep saying,”It’s good to be home.” If you do, at best people will think you had a lousy time. At worst, most will wonder why you left in the first place. (Of course, they may also see through your desire to answer the question, “Where have you been? Leroy.)
1 If you are returning from a long trip, do not think you won’t have to resume helping out around the house. If you do, at best you will get a gentle reminder. At worst, you may find your suitcase repacked and ready for another trip. (That one-way ticket is sobering don’t you think, Cousin?)
Here will be the last pictorial from Scotland. I had a wonderful time filled with exceptional sights and sounds of a beautiful country.
This is a photo of The Cawdor Castle which is owned by the Dowager Countess Cawdor. She opens the castle to visitors in the summer and then takes up residence in the fall. It is said that Shakespeare stayed and wrote McBeth while here. In fact, Cowdor is mentioned in McBeth.
Here is a view of the rear with some gardens showing.
A shot of the formal gardens
This is the back of a carriage. On the door is the Dowager Countess Cawdor symbol and below the symbol for the Order of the Thistle which is the highest honor in Scotland.
Of course, no visit to Scotland would be complete without a distillery tour. This is the Benromach distillery. A very fine single malt whiskey.
This is a shot of Loch Ness. Did not see Nessy.
Here is a shot of the Caledonian locks. The Caledonian Canal connects the Scottish east coast at Invernesswith the west coast at Corpach near Fort William in Scotland. It was opened in 1822 and runs 60 miles. There are 29 locks in the system. This was a shot of the locks near Inverness.
Here is a photo of the Highlands. You van see a waterfall and farmhouse.off in the distance.
One more shot of the farmhouse including the stream.
More waterfall.
A photo of Loch Loman (Taken from a speeding car.)
Our hotel in Glasgow. A real European flavor.
This was the four-floor stairway in the hotel in Glasgow. The chandelier made it quite unusual. Well, I hope you enjoyed the selection. If you want to come over, I have about 300 more. I could put you to sleep fast.
Normally on Saturday, there is a Stream of Consciousness prompt. While travelling I missed it so I thought you might like some more pictures of Scotland.
Here is a photo of the St. Andrews Cathedral. As you can see it is in ruins. The town of St Andrews is very picturesque.
Here is the Abby at St Andrews. It was destroyed during the Reformation.
Here is a Castle at Fyvie and is noted because it was a commoner’s castle
There were two swans with their chicks on the side of the road.
This is a shot of a dog in a pub at Fyvie that decided to sleep on my shoe. (Don’t tell Lucy)
We visited our Great Grandmother’s hometown of Portsoy. We stayed in Whitehills and here is a sunset shot.
Here is the main street of Portsoy
A shot of the quay in Portsoy.
A picture of my sister and I marking the moment of our visit to Portsoy. I have more photos and will drag them out every once in a while.
It is Friday and I am headed home. I don’t get in until late tonight but it will be nice to see the Gulf and listen to the waves. It is surprising when you live with wave noise in your ears 24/7 how quiet the world is when you leave.
It has been a great trip but now time to catch a glimpse of the red, white, and blue. I always get a little thrill when the customs agent hands me my passport and says, “Welcome home.” I guess as I get older it is small things like that greeting that makes me appreciate living in America.
Today’s JohnKu talks about home. I hope you have a great weekend.
About the Author:
