Originally posted on Jellyfish Review:
Salt While salting my eggs this morning, I had one of those moments where you ponder an everyday thing and how it came to be as such. A thing long taken for granted. In this case, it was the very salt I was shaking. I wondered about its origin. Who was that pioneer who took these tiny, white crystals and thought to put them over food? We all know how salt is made now — of course — but who was the first to find it, to use it? What type of man? For salt is no easy encounter. We know the delicate balance needed. We know the sequence of things that must occur. How then, was it ever revealed? What were the circumstances? Who was the man who first drew salt? Was he a seeker or simply a man who stumbled accidentally? How far he must’ve walked into a mountainous forest before he saw the tell-tale shining light. Who was the man that looked upon the red-gray beam peeking…
Originally posted on Jellyfish Review:
Originally posted on Jane Dougherty Writes:
For the dverse prompt. When the dark is as hot and still as light, and the moon melts a sliver of drifting ice, the stars quiver a mirage in the night, when no birds sing at dawn, the dew already drunk by heat-parched air, and the cracks in the broken earth yawn wider, when sun beats hammer blows in the midday silence out of the drum-taut sky, and flowers wilt and nothing grows, crisped brown, prematurely autumned, we slow and sigh and long for sleep, to dream of fountains and waterfalling and pearls that glow full fathom five. Will this long night end, earth’s kilter restrung, or will the keening of the owl be the last song sung?
Originally posted on Padre's Ramblings:
? Were they being followed? Neither could be sure, but there was that uneasiness of feeling, like they were being watched. ? Stan stopped and listened, Julie clenching his hand tightly. Nothing. ? They took a few more steps, was that an echo of their own footfalls or was it someone or something keeping pace with their movements? ? “I knew we shouldn’t have come this way,” Julie whispered. ? “But do you want to go back past whatever’s there?” he responded. ? The clouds parted for a moment and a shadow of what seemed something human briefly fell upon the building they stood near. ? Chills felt upon spines – Trembling apprehension for Shadows on the wall ? Padre ? Heeding Haiku With Chèvrefeuille, July 24th 2019, shadows on the wall
Originally posted on The Photographer Roamed the Streets…:
Dordrechts Museum (Dordrecht, Netherlands)
Originally posted on Occultosophia. :
vampire (n.) spectral being in a human body who maintains semblance of life by leaving the grave at night to suck the warm blood of the living as they sleep, 1734, from French vampire (18c.) or German Vampir (1732, in an account of Hungarian vampires), from Hungarian vampir, from Old Church Slavonic opiri (source also of Serbian vampir, Bulgarian vapir, Ukrainian uper), said by Slavic linguist Franc Miklošič to be ultimtely from Kazan Tatar ubyr “witch,” but Max Vasmer, an expert in this linguistic area, finds that phonetically doubtful. An Eastern European creature popularized in English by late 19c. gothic novels, however there are scattered English accounts of night-walking, blood-gorged, plague-spreading undead corpses from as far back as 1196. Figurative sense of “person who preys on others” is from 1741. Applied 1774 by French biologist Buffon to a species of South American blood-sucking bat. Related: Vampiric. -https://www.etymonline.com/word/vampire (Online Etymology Dictionary) The Way Home In the night cowslip and bewitching clover, I moisten my feet so my step is lighter. The vampire…
One of my favorite Instagram accounts to follow is @rfedortov_official_account. Maintained by a Russian deep sea fisherman, the creatures he photographs remind me of many monsters and aliens that I’ve seen in movies and TV shows. Peppered in-between the creature photos are gorgeous shots of sunrises at sea.
Originally posted on Fmme writes poems:
There was a dragon in the valley, curled like a white cat: each scale a pearl; each breath a cloud of soft white silk – ’til the whole valley was a bowl of milk – as the sun brightens with the coming day, such dragons fade. De – the wonderful WhimsyGizmo – is hosting at dVerse tonight, and here be dragons. Our quadrilles are infested with the pesky things…
Love this poem posted by Rachael Ikins at Heretics, Lovers, and Madmen! Halloween Synopsis
I love this poem from Kim at Writing in Norfolk about a visit to Prague. I felt like I was dropped right into her memory when I read it, and I loved how she made other tourists seem mysterious. writinginnorthnorfolk.com/2019/05/28/thinking-of-prague/
Earlier this week I wrote about a collection of short stories by Bram Stoker that I discovered at a local bookstore. The first story in the book is The Crystal Cup, and while reading it, I was reminded of both of Jonathan Harker’s sense of imprisonment at Dracula’s castle, and Renfield’s increasingly strange behavior at Seward’s insane asylum. You can read the full story at American Literature’s website here.