SCRATCH ART
Have you ever tried scratch art? I found a little kit that had these black sheets, that have some sort of coating on them. There is four of them, of four different background colors, a stencil page you can use, and a wooden stylus to do the scratching. I used some of the stencils, but mostly just made up my own design. It was fun to do, and I was wanting to do some kind of art project.
***
Thanks for visiting! Peace }i{
© 2016 BS
THE LOST – FOR RECYCLED BOOK READING CHALLENGE
This is the book I read for the challenge in the month of June. We are asked to take one of our ‘to be read’ books that we have saved to read, and actually read them. I know I have so many books that I’ve bought at book sales, and they just sit there while the stack gets higher. This challenge is good, because I know I want to read them, and the time has come to do so.
To find out more about the challenge, and to participate, check out the information in the link below:
Recycled Book Reading Challenge!
This book is one that may not exactly be recycled, as it is a new book, but I did get it on sale. It’s been on my to read list for awhile, so I chose it to read this past month.
This is the first book I’ve read by the author, Sarah Beth Durst, and hopefully won’t be the last, as this one was really good. There are two more to the series, but I’m having a hard time finding them. I am glad I found this one!
Here’s a short explanation of the story told here:
Lauren is the main character, who is just trying to take a few days away from her responsibilities at home. She needs time to think, and process the information that her mother is probably dying of cancer. She feels guilty about thinking of herself at this stressful time, but needs to get away for a day or two.
She goes for a drive, out along a long, lonely, and mostly deserted desert highway. Lost in thought, she suddenly finds herself driving into a huge dust storm. The last road sign she saw was for a town named Lost, and she hopes she can make it to the town. However, she gets lost, and a mysterious man comes by and takes her to the town.
Everyone in the town is strange. There are stores, businesses, hotels, diners, and people are just wandering around, scavenging through piles of trash. She goes into the diner, where she meets some of the people, but something is not right with them, though they seem friendly…at first.
The book/story is about her trying to find out what’s going on in this Lost town, and how to get back to her regular life. There is the man who saved her, a little girl, and a teenage girl, who help her navigate this strange place. There is also a person called the Missing Man, who everyone believes can help them find their way back to their real homes, and a challenge that everyone has to find what they’ve lost, before that can happen.
Now, I want to read the other two books in the series, “The Missing”, and “The Found”, but seems they are missing, and are not to be found! They are lost, I suppose. If I ever find them, I’ll be sure to get them!
I’d say go ahead and read this first one, because it is so good, you keep turning the pages to find out what happens next!
***
Thanks for visiting! Peace }i{
© 2016 BS
ONE WORD PHOTO CHALLENGE – CAT
Here’s a fun challenge for our photos! Today’s subject is – Cat 🙂
This is how to participate:
***
Cricket
Paolo
Thanks for visiting! Peace }i{
© 2016 BS
TWO SOULS: INTO THE FIRE … # 23
Warning…adult content
(23rd installment)
warning…adult content
Ghost kept walking until he came to a more business area of the city. There were a few stores open this early…a coffee shop, a diner, a convenience store…but Ghost kept walking. He had no idea where he was or where he was going, but just let his feet take him somewhere else. He felt dirty, dishevelled, and hungry…and so alone. Some early risers were beginning to make their way here and there along the sidewalks. Some looked his way, but hurried on. No one said anything to him. He wondered why people were so unfriendly here. It wasn’t like home in Missing Mile, where everyone knew him and would say ‘hey’ when they saw him. He was so tired, and so lonely. At last he had to stop to rest a bit. He collapsed on some steps in a doorway to what looked like an empty storefront.
He rummaged through his backpack. Maybe he’d buy something to eat somewhere. He needed to think of what to do next, and it was impossible on an empty stomach. He looked at the meager things he’d brought with him. There were his notebooks and markers, a flannel shirt the mountain couple had given him, a good luck rock he’d found back home years ago, which he thought had a formation on it that looked like Jesus…but, Steve had said it was just some old petrified dirt that got stuck on there, and when he’d spit on it, the dirt would not come off…and the Jesus was still there, all these years later. There was a dried up rose he’d picked from the side of the road in the mountains, where they grew wild and free…but, he did not find the money he’d been given.
He looked frantically again…no money. That guy must have taken it. Sighing, he stuffed everything back, and just sat there staring into space. He couldn’t even cry anymore.
“That’s pretty bad,” he thought, “too sad to cry, too sad to cry…” he started to hum a new tune. He figured that would make a good song.
Just then, a guy came bursting out of the door Ghost was sitting in front of. He almost knocked Ghost off the steps. “Oh, sorry dude,” he exclaimed, “I’m running late.” He peered closer at Ghost. “What’cha doin’ sittin’ on my doorstep, anyway?”
Ghost shrugged and said, “Jus’ settin’.”
The guy started laughing, a rich, deep laugh, “Oh, man! Everybody said I sounded funny with my Jamaican accent when I got here, but you look and sound like you just fell off the turnip truck, dude!”
Ghost could hardly follow what the guy said, he talked kind of fast, and he did have a strange accent Ghost had never heard before.
“Well, if you’re hungry, c’mon with me, man…the soup kitchen is already open, and we need to get there before they run out of breakfast.”
Ghost nodded and followed. A couple of blocks down, they entered a building where they were serving plates of food. Ghost hung back, telling the guy he had no money.
“It’s ok, man, they give it for free to whoever needs to eat.”
They both got their plates and sat to talk a bit. As they were finishing their meal, the guy said, “If you need a place to crash later, just open the door where you were earlier. There’s just a bunch of transients that come and go there, no questions asked. I’ll see ya later, if ya stick around.”
Ghost could think better now, and he figured he’d take the guy up on the crash pad tonight. He wandered around, looking into store windows, watching people come and go on the sidewalks. Finding a bench in front of a store, he sat down to rest.
“Now what? ” he wondered. “Guess I need to get a job, huh?” he said to himself.
The thought was foreign to him. He’d never actually had a job before. All he’d ever done was sing with Steve. “How do you get a job singing out here? That’s all I know how to do. Well, this is L.A., lots of bands play here. Maybe some band needs a singer.”
He looked around. He noticed flyers tacked to some of the light poles on the street, so went over to take a look. Some were for bands playing at different places around the area. In the litter barrel next to a pole, he found a discarded newspaper. He took it. Flipping the pages that were left, he was happy to see the jobs section was still intact. As luck would have it, there were even ads for singers wanted. There were phone numbers, addresses, and times to interview, he supposed, but couldn’t make heads or tails of it. Stuffing the paper into his backpack, he planned on asking the guy he’d met, about the ads, later tonight.
~
When he entered the abandoned building later on, Ghost was surprised to see so many people there. Interesting looking people. There were a few families, their kids running around playing, a few guys and girls hanging around the edges of the large first floor of the room, talking, some were asleep on the floor..they all looked kind of like the hobos that traveled the rails back home. Homeless people, he figured.
“Well, shit,” he said to himself, “guess this is right where I belong, then. I have no job, no money, dirty looking and smelling like leftover possom on the road, nowhere to go, down on my luck”…all the familiar cliches. He could have gone on, but got too depressed thinking about it. He took a deep breath to clear his brain, then nearly choked, as he got a whiff of himself, again. “God, I need a bath,” he muttered.
The Rasta man came in the door, spied Ghost, and came over. After talking a bit, Ghost pulled out the newspaper and asked the guy if he could help him figure out where to go for the singer wanted jobs. The man looked at Ghost funny – like, can’t he read? – but, went ahead and told him where one of the places was. It wasn’t far…a coffee shop up the street. The band was interviewing the next morning at 10 a.m. Ghost nodded, but was thinking, “How am I supposed to know when 10 a.m. is?” but, was too embarrassed to ask that. They guy also mentioned that a convenience store close by didn’t mind people coming in and freshening up in the restroom, just as long as they left it tidy.
Ghost smiled and said, “Yeah, no band would hire a crap smelling singer.”
The guy laughed his rich, low laugh, and said, “Dude, I didn’t wanna say anything, but…whew!”
As people began to settle in for the night, Ghost lay and looked at the ceiling way above him. There were flickers of red and green neon on the walls, from some all night strip joints and bars close by. He didn’t sleep very well, though. The floor was hard, and it was kind of noisy with snoring, sleep talking, a kid crying…but, he must have joined them at some point, because suddenly he woke, and it was getting light outside. Most were still asleep, so he quietly gathered his backpack and slipped out the door. He made his way over to the little corner store and into the small bathroom.
One look at himself in the mirror was all it took to start washing, as best he could, with paper towels and disinfecting soap. Then, feeling better about himself, he pulled on the extra flannel shirt. He couldn’t do anything about his old jeans, though. He left, making his way to the soup kitchen again. After eating, he tried to find the coffee shop where the band was interviewing. He didn’t know if it was close to 10 a.m. or not, so he figured he’d just sit there and wait.
After walking past the place a couple of times, he finally found it and opened the door. The coffee bar smell was intoxicating, and he wished he had some. He did not see anyone interviewing, so he asked the barista.
“Oh, Maxy should be here anytime…you can wait over there,” she said, as she pointed to a small alcove. “Want some coffee?” she smiled.
Ghost looked at the floor, “Um…I don’t have any money.”
“That’s ok,” she laughed, “first one’s on the house.”
Ghost felt things were looking up finally, as he sipped the hot drink, and let the steam surround his face. He closed his eyes, relaxing into an almost Zen-like state, as he let his mind go wherever it wanted – up and down intricate paths that led to the past, the future, the whys and what ifs – winding their way into some sort of spaciness only he could conjure up.
***
Next part coming soon!
Thanks for visiting! Peace }i{
***
This is a work of “fan fiction” based on the novel, “Lost Souls” by Poppy Z. Brite. All credit for the original characters, places, and some backstory mentions, belong to Ms. Brite and her publishing affiliates. Only newly introduced characters, places, and original elements of this story are entirely from my imagination. Character descriptions are a blend of the original book descriptions and my interpretation of them.
All songs included in this work will be solely owned by the original performers/writers and will be credited. Creative liscense is taken in including them in this story.
No harm is intended toward author, muscians, or people and situations to whom there may be a resemblence.
warning warning warning warning
The content herein is rated by me as being at the high end of MA (Mature Audience). It includes strong language, violence, sexual themes, including same sex pairings, religious themes, and fantasy horror.
***
MY MISSION
I rose in the twilight,
As is my nature,
Standing up tall
To reach my full stature.
Not a soul in sight.
As I surveyed my realm,
Preternatural senses,
Only me at the helm.
A rosy victim to bite
Is my mission tonight.
***
For dVerse Poets – Quadrille – # 12 – Rose
Prompt word – rose
Use only 44 words
***
© 2016 BS
Thanks for visiting! Peace }i{
REMEMBER SPUDS MacKENZIE?
Do you remember the commercials for Bud Light Beer, back in the late 1980s? They had a Bull Terrier, named Spuds MacKenzie on several television ads. It was a cute advertising campaign, at the time, and made their debut at the 1987 Super Bowl XXI.
Later on there was controversy about the use of the dog. One complaint was that the dog was portrayed as being a male, when in fact it was a female. Another complaint was that they were said to be promoting drinking to young people, by using the cute dog for it’s advertising. So, the Anheuser-Busch brewing company decided to cancel the ads, in 1989.
The thing is, while at the height of popularity, Spuds MacKenzie, and his/her entourage would make public appearances around the country. We, my daughters and their friend got to go see them in person. It was while we were at Ft. Hood. We got there, waited around the open air area with a large crowd, and pretty soon, Spuds arrived…in a long white limousine, with his group, which included the pretty models of the day. They were all very nice, and even signed autographed posters, and posed for photos.
Just thought I’d show you a few photos from the day we met a famous dog. 🙂
***
***
Thanks for visiting! Peace }i{
© 2016 BS
CEE’S ODD-BALL PHOTO CHALLENGE – 2016 – WEEK 26 
Find funny and odd photos you’ve taken, share the fun with others! 🙂
Here’s how to join in:
Cee’s Odd Ball Photo Challenge: 2016 Week 26
***
This group of odd-ball photos could be called the body part edition. 😉 I think mannequins and parts of them are funny. That is funny too, because I once had a job for awhile in which I dressed mannequins at Sears. I’d find some cool clothes to put on them, and pose them out in the store. That was a fun job.
Now, if I had a middle part, I could put them together in a freaky fashion Frankenstein mannequin! haha 🙂
***
Thanks for visiting! Peace }i{
© 2016 BS
SHARE YOUR WORLD – 2016 – WEEK 26 
Here we are again with the questions from Cee and answers from me! It’s Share Your World time! Yay!
Find out how to join the weekly fun, and see other’s entries by clicking the link below:
Share Your World – 2016 Week 26
***
Q1 – What’s your most memorable (good or bad) airplane flight?
There have been so many! I love flying, and have been lots of places, but I’ll go with my very first trip by plane. It was 1970…destination Hawaii! My husband was taking his R & R from serving in the Army in Viet Nam, and I was meeting him in Hawaii. We had a week of fun!
The flight was on Braniff Airlines, which isn’t in operation any more. I didn’t know what to expect from traveling by plane, but there were no problems, just a long time in the air. We got to see a movie, eat a nice meal, and even got a perfume sample. Here’s some photos of my souvenirs.
***
Q2 – How many bones, if any, have you broken?
None, and knock wood that I don’t.
Q3 – If you had your own talk show, who would your first three guests be? (guests can be dead, alive, famous, or just someone you know)?
I would want the fan-fictional characters I write about to be my guests. Steve and Ghost have been with me for so many years, in my head, and in my writing, they seem to be real people anyway to me.
Next, would be the American author, writer, poet, Michael Xavier. He writes the most amazing poems. I would just like to listen to him read them.
And, since this is a fun wish, I’d like to have a big group of all the bloggers I follow, and who follow me, to be my guests. It would be fun to meet everyone in person. However, since quite a few of us are introverts, get anxious in crowds, and are maybe like me, feel I write better than I can talk in a conversation, we could all just say hi, and stare at each other, while in our heads we’re planning our next blog post about the meeting on my talk show. 🙂
Q4 – Make a ‘current’ list: what are you watching, listening to, eating, needing, wanting, and missing right now?
Ok, so currently I’m watching the words appear as I type them up there on my PC monitor. I’m listening to the evening news on the TV, only looking at it occasionally. I finished my coffee w/French Vanilla cream, and my bite sized Butterfinger candy, and now have my non-alcoholic beer. I am needing to go to the bathroom, but want to finish this first. I am wanting more hours in the day to do all the stuff I want to do. I want to do some art projects, I say I am, every day, but never get to it. I am missing my kitchen timer thing. It’s a little manual one, with a chef character. It’s gone missing for a few days. I keep it in the same spot, so where did it go? I think my resident ghost is playing tricks again. I finally got my knife back, and my shirt, so I guess I’ll someday get my timer back, when the ghost is done with it. You think?
***
That’s all the questions for this week! Hope you enjoyed it!
Thanks for visiting! Peace }i{
© 2016 BS
Here’s a few of my thoughts on antiques. I like to find old things at flea markets and yard sales. I’m not afraid of them, as I’ve heard others are. What do you think? Are they haunted?
ANTIQUES – HAUNTED OR NOT?
Do you think antiques are haunted by their previous owners? Have you ever held a really old item in your hands and ‘felt’ the presence of the infused spirit of some long ago person? I have.
Antiques and relics all have stories to tell, if you just listen…not with your ears, but with your sixth sense and your heart. Hold the item…maybe an old brooch, a bone hairpin, a letter from WWI or WWII, a bow tie from 1820, or a yellowing, lace baby bonnet from 1842…in your hands. Be quiet…just listen.
Close your eyes, feel the shape of the piece. See if you can pick up any impressions that flash across your mind. Try not to think of anything but what you are holding. The images and thoughts you have will be random, and may not make much sense to you…but, these thoughts that drift across your mind, will probably be the infused essence of the person/spirit that once owned the item.
It’s telling you a story…maybe about the baby who wore the bonnet; maybe it felt scratchy on their head, or maybe comforting, because they trusted their mother to protect their little head from the harsh sunlight. That this long ago baby lived a full, wonderful life, or later on, met with sorrow, you never know for sure, but rest assured, a bit of that person is left for you to discover…if you just listen.
I wouldn’t say the item is haunted, though. It just holds the impression of the previous owner. It’s a bit sad, really, that it has come to be sold out of the family. Someone thought enough of the person to have kept the item for so many years. It could be that this was the end of the line for it…no family left to pass it down to, as an heirloom.
I like to think I am rescuing it, that I was drawn to this place and time, to have found it…to find out it’s long history…and to tell it’s story.
***
Thanks for visiting! Peace }i{
© 2016 BS
TWO SOULS: INTO THE FIRE … # 22
Warning…adult content
***
(22nd installment)
warning…adult content
The trucker’s fantasies getting more insistent, he got up his courage to actually do this, working himself into an actual need to do this. He reached for Ghost. Ghost woke to the man’s rough face pressed to his, his tender lips being forced open by the man’s hot tongue. He felt his jeans being pulled down. Ghost tried to wiggle upright and push the guy off him, but wasn’t able to move, or hardly even breathe. The guy was heavy, and his tongue was shoved down Ghost’s throat. The trucker could feel Ghost’s struggles and hear his effort to cry out, but this only served to encourage him. He came up off Ghost’s face, saying,
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way, but we are going to do it.”
Ghost arched his back and tried to push the man off, but it was no use. The man pinned Ghost’s arms down, putting his slobbery mouth on Ghost’s again. The man’s other hand fumbled with both their clothes, until they were off.
Ghost had never done this with anyone but Steve – in love, and in anger – and it had been so long since the last time. In spite of the circumstances, Ghost could feel himself giving in…letting it happen, letting the need take over his body, his thoughts put on hold for the moment.
When it was over, they both were sweaty, panting for breath. The man was coming back to his senses, and now felt a little guilty and embarrassed at what he’d done. Ghost was just resigned. All he could think to himself was. “Why does everyone want to hurt me? I’m no threat to anyone. Even my best and only friend hurt me.” He lay curled up as close to the truck’s door as he could, his eyes squinched shut, and the tears ran down his face, as he sobbed silently, his shoulders shaking.
The trucker kept saying over and over, “My God, what did I do? I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He looked over at Ghost, and was struck at how young he looked lying there crying. “”Oh, God, he’s just a kid,” he thought. He had no way of knowing how old Ghost was; Ghost always looked and seemed younger than he was. “I don’t even know his name. What am I gonna do now,” he thought.
He reached over to pull an old blanket over Ghost’s bare legs, but Ghost flinched away from the touch.
“Sorry, dude, I don’t know what came over me,” he said softly. “Did I hurt you…oh, God, this wasn’t your first time, was it? Please forgive me, I didn’t mean for it to happen. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll take you wherever you want to go. I’ll give you however much money you want…”
Ghost didn’t answer for a bit, then he whispered through his tears, “Yes, you hurt me, everyone hurts me. No, it wasn’t my first time, and keep your money, I’m not a prostitute,” he sobbed.
“What can I do? I need to make this up to you,” the man asked. “You probably want to get out and the hell away from me, and you have every right to, but I hate to just leave you on the side of the road in the dark.”
Ghost said evenly, “Just keep on drivin’.”
So, the man started up the truck and pulled out onto the highway again.
As the night crept on toward dawn, the trucker kept driving. Ghost finally fell into a fitful sleep, mumbling now and then about spooks, and molasses, and Steve. Some time later, the man got a text message on his phone. It made him jump, but didn’t wake Ghost. He pulled over at the next rest stop to stretch and take a leak. Then he looked again at the message. It said, “How was your little hippie? Was he any good? Are you passing him around? Me first! Hahaha.”
The trucker started to smash the phone to the ground, but then called the other trucker, instead. “Dude, I actually did it,” he confessed. The man on the other end started making rude noises and comments.
“Stop it! You guys shouldn’t have dared me. Now, I feel awful…he’s just a kid.”
“Don’t worry about it,” the other man said. “I’m sure he’s older than he looks, and has been around the block more than once. So, how was it, anyway?”
“Shut up, dude!”
“What are you gonna do now?”
“I’m still heading to L. A. to drop my load, then pick up another, head back east. The kid’s gonna be on his own then.”
He hung up, and continued on his way. As the sun rose, two days later, they pulled into the freight yard to unload.
The man shook Ghost awake, “Hey, we’re here, end of the line. You’re on your own…or I can call a buddy of mine. He’ll be glad to take over for me, but I wouldn’t recommend it, if you know what I mean. I’m real sorry for what happened…take care of yourself. I wish you the best.” He pulled down the ladder, and went to the loading dock with his paperwork.
Ghost hadn’t said a word to him. He got his backpack and left the truck, almost falling from the ladder. He walked away from the freight yard, looking rumpled and red-eyed from crying. He didn’t care…didn’t care about much of anything right now. He just wanted to get away from the huge, smelly trucks, and away from truckers.
***
Next part coming soon!
Thanks for visiting! Peace }i{
© 2016 BS
***
This is a work of “fan fiction” based on the novel, “Lost Souls” by Poppy Z. Brite. All credit for the original characters, places, and some backstory mentions, belong to Ms. Brite and her publishing affiliates. Only newly introduced characters, places, and original elements of this story are entirely from my imagination. Character descriptions are a blend of the original book descriptions and my interpretation of them.
All songs included in this work will be solely owned by the original performers/writers and will be credited. Creative liscense is taken in including them in this story.
No harm is intended toward author, muscians, or people and situations to whom there may be a resemblence.
warning warning warning warning
The content herein is rated by me as being at the high end of MA (Mature Audience). It includes strong language, violence, sexual themes, including same sex pairings, religious themes, and fantasy horror.
***
teleportingweena 