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directionoftime · 4 years

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Snippet and a question

Wow, the writeblr community is grand! Thank you all so much for your kind responses and welcomes to my intro post! <3

I thought I’d post up here part of the opening to Sauvarin, since a handful of people seemed to like the idea of it, it will be below the cut as it’s 700ish words. It was originally a prologue but I keep hearing whispers about how prologues should be burnt at the stake (?) Eh. For those interested, feel free for a read ^_ ^

The question is of a particular portion of text and its aimed at those who are trans / part of the community (if you’re happy to answer, of course, no pressure!)

I have a FTM character in Sauvarin, and I’m cautious of getting some wording right.

Context: Max Arisan is the Patron of Sauvarin, is FTM but still has breasts. This is mentioned only once in text as a “this is who this guy is but it isn’t relevant to his character arc, just want y’all to be sure you know” kinda thing. My question is really about just the wording of the part in bold is it... accurate? Reflective? Not offensive?* I know “preferred” isn’t right, but is “correct”? Is there a better word to use?

If it is completely wrong please let me know so I can fix it! I have been doing what research I can but I am coming at it from a somewhat... abstract angle, and I want it to sound natural in the text, rather than like some clinical case-study.

[...] He began, leaning back on the edge of his desk and it was only now Isaura registered what she had been seeing: Max had breasts.

‘Yes, it was quite uneventful, surprisingly. Just me, Bartrum, and miles and miles of forest.’ Isaura kept her eyes trained on his face at such an unusual turn of events; surgeries and hormone replacements were so efficient and effective the average person could be living fully as their correct gender inside very few months. Something major must have happened to disrupt the process so significantly. Or perhaps he was just more comfortable this way; it was hardly her place to question it.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read!

@writeblrfantasy @magic-is-something-we-create @linariouswrites @furryarbiterangel @wildswrites @inky-duchess

* I am aware of the whole “stay in your lane” discourse thing about people/characters but the only convincing reason I could think of for him to not be trans is that I’m not trans myself. BUT since his character isn’t about him “being trans” he’s just a character who is trans and also x, y, z, I didn’t see it as a good enough reason not to include ??

Second half of the intro, (1300 words total lol and it seemed too much to post here). So, the only context you’re missing is: Bartrum is a horse; they’re very close to the town but haven’t go there yet, and the opening to the opening is just Isaura [protag] listening to an old guy talk about space [less boring than it sounds but not really anything happens happens, so...] Oh! And they’re deep in the taiga, far east of what was known as Siberia.

Hope you like it! Anyone interested in a character run down, btw?

The approaching rumble of cars had Isaura hop off and hurry to pull him up the short, steep bank out of the way. Bartrum, clearly unimpressed with their stop-start travel, remained stubbornly still until the screech of tyres on gravel spooked him. He squealed his fear, kicking hooves had her recoil and his thundering body knocked her into a nearby bush as he bolted into the woods. Isaura scrambled to her feet, anger drowning out pain as she barked at the nearest car, ‘Oi! Watch it!’

It hesitated for the briefest of moments; the driver’s face ducked low to stare at Isaura out from the passenger window. His look was pointed, cold and selfish as they locked upon her; inspecting, demanding, reducing, memorising. As if assigned her to some imaginary end of his own devising. The kind of look that can raise hairs from a hundred paces. They stared at each other for a few long seconds, Isaura’s guard instantly high as she steeled herself against the encroachment. The driver cocked his head slightly, listening to some instruction or other from a passenger, fixed his eyes on the road and accelerated away. The following car kept up with the first, no one so much as casting a glance her way. Isaura swept her dripping hair from her face and turned to chase after the horse, finally realising what was wrong with the convoy: the cars had drivers. Hadn’t she been told that travel to Sauvarin by way of a car wasn’t an option?

‘Bartrum!’ She called out, following the trail of destruction through the underbrush, ‘Bar-Bar! Where’ve you gone?’ The rain fell thickly and only the Bartrum-sized hole left her any clue to his direction. At least she saw no sign her baggage had fallen. ‘Bar-Bar! C’mon, you stupid horse, where the hell are you—’ She found herself upon a sudden clearing, barely a few feet in diameter, not one branch dared encroach.

The skull was a stark white against the intense green grass which grew with a flourish around it and through it, as though it had been sat in a fallowed field through an even-tempered summer; blades had woven their way through the few remaining teeth. Enormous helical, branching horns sat firm against the skull. From each pitch-dark eye socket grew the trunks of a pine, the two stems twisted and curved around the top of the skull before finding their way back to each other only to separate yet again into two branching bronchioles of needle clusters, each just a little shy of the other. They seemed to weave through and around the existing horns, as if aware of them; the tree itself looked ancient and weathered, barely a meter or so in height. From its nostrils poked tiny, delicate flowers of pink and yellow and blue.

Isaura stared, transfixed by the scene, for a silent eternity before something pulled her from her revere and she backtracked, giving the small clearing a wide berth. No animal Isaura had ever heard of grew horns like those. She felt its presence loom at her back but focused on following Bartrum’s trail, which ended abruptly on an overgrown road. It had once been paved, but was criss-crossed with cracks and fractures, now home only to weeds, moss, and grass. Bartrum, only a few paces away, stood stock still staring up the abandoned track, his ears pricked and his body tense.

‘Bar-Bar, there you are!’ She approached him slowly, careful not to spook him further; the sign up ahead drew her attention: Sauvarin Mine. It had clearly once stood proud above the road, but its background had faded and the formerly sharp lines of contrast were blurred almost beyond recognition. It was barely held aloft leaning as it did on a tree branch, its left post long destroyed. A guilty testament for the human proclivity to create and then abandon. ‘Well, I guess this means we’re in the right place, eh, Bartrum?’ She spoke to the horse, gently stroking his neck — he still hadn’t moved, not even a blink. ‘And here I’d been hoping it was because of the mine that I’d been offered this place, but what good is a blacksmith without metal?’ Bartrum’s ear finally twitched, she took hold of his reigns, clicked her tongue a few times, he at last turned around to let her lead him down the broken track to the main road. The rain slowed to a drizzle as Isaura glanced over her shoulder back up at the neglected sign, where it slouched in the small break of trees, like a lonely stranger who’d offer their secrets only to those with the confidence to ask.

#writeblr fantasy #fantasy novel #writing #questions #trans people are valid #trans voices needed

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manchestergalore · 4 years

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The Reno

circa 1969

Photo © Linda Brogan / @excavatingthereno

The Reno began life in 1962 and soon became an important social haven for the areas mixed race communities.

In 1987 Moss Side’s late-night soul and funk club The Reno was bulldozed. The previous year Manchester City Council had deemed the building which housed the venue unsafe, and along with its sister club (The Nile) the late night drinking den on the corner of Princess Road and Moss Lane East was no more.

#manchester #1969 #princess rd #moss lane east #the reno #the nile club and casino #club #linda brogan #1960s #black and white #photo #image #england #uk #demolished

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scotianostra · 2 years

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26th May 1652 saw the surrender of Dunnottar Castle, the last Royalist stronghold in eastern Scotland.

Dunnotar is a ruined medieval fortress located upon a rocky headland on the north-east coast of Scotland, about two miles south of Stonehaven. The surviving buildings are largely of the 15th to 16th centuries, but the site is believed to have been an early fortress of the Dark Ages, it was certainly a stronghold by the 13th century.

The castle played a strategic role in the history of Scotland from the Middle Ages through to the Enlightenment, because of the location: it overlooked the shipping lanes to northern Scotland; and is situated on a narrow coastal terrace that controlled land access to the coastal south via Portlethen Moss to Aberdeen during the medieval period.

Dunnottar Castle was held by one of the most powerful families in Scotland, the Earls Marischal, from the 14th century when Sir William Keith, the 1st Earl Marischal, built his Tower House, also known as the Keep. The Earl Marischal was an office bestowed on the Keiths by James II. The role was one of the 3 great offices of State, along with the Constable and the Steward. The Earl Marischal had specific responsibility for ceremonial events, the Honours of Scotland and for the safety of the King’s person within parliament. Consequently it was not unusual for the monarchy, including Mary Queen of Scots, to spend time and stay at Dunnottar

Charles Stewart was executed by Oliver Cromwell, the self-proclaimed Lord Protector. In 1650, his young son Charles II arrived in North East Scotland, and stayed a night in Dunnottar on his journey south to give battle for his fathers’ kingdom.

In England, on hearing of the young Kings arrival, Oliver Cromwell was so enraged that he ordered the invasion of Scotland. In some haste Charles II was crowned at Scone, but the “Honours of Scotland”, the crown and other regalia, could not be returned to Edinburgh Castle, as by that timeCromwell’s Army had seized it.

Having already destroyed the English crown jewels, the Honours of Scotland were the most potent icon of monarchy, and as such were next on Cromwell’s list. Cromwell’s army was fast approaching, so Charles II ordered William the 7th Earl Marischal to take the Honours to Dunnottar and secure them there.

It was not long before Dunnottar was under siege, and a scratch, aged garrison of seventy men held out for eight months against the invading might of Cromwell’s army until heavy cannons arrived. Following 10 days of heavy fire, surrender was made. This was not however before the Honours of Scotland were smuggled out of the Castle and taken to Kinneff Church, where they were buried in the Church, which I posted about at the end of March about the incident in 1649

#Scotland #scottish #stronghold #castle #Aberdeenshire #Stonehaven #history

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mellifera38 · 6 years

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Mel’s Big Fantasy Place-Name Reference

So I’ve been doing lots of D&D world-building lately and I’ve kind of been putting together lists of words to help inspire new fantasy place names. I figured I’d share. These are helpful for naming towns, regions, landforms, roads, shops, and they’re also probably useful for coming up with surnames. This is LONG. There’s plenty more under the cut including a huge list of “fantasy sounding” word-parts. Enjoy!

Towns & Kingdoms

town, borough, city, hamlet, parish, township, village, villa, domain

kingdom, empire, nation, country, county, city-state, state, province, dominion

Town Name End Words (English flavored)

-ton, -ston, -caster, -dale, -den, -field, -gate, -glen, -ham, -holm, -hurst, -bar, -boro, -by, -cross, -kirk, -meade, -moore, -ville, -wich, -bee, -burg, -cester, -don, -lea, -mer, -rose, -wall, -worth, -berg, -burgh, -chase, -ly, -lin, -mor, -mere, -pool. -port, -stead, -stow, -strath, -side, -way, -berry, -bury, -chester, -haven, -mar, -mont, -ton, -wick, -meet, -heim, -hold, -hall, -point

Buildings & Places

castle, fort, palace, fortress, garrison, lodge, estate, hold, stronghold, tower, watchtower, palace, spire, citadel, bastion, court, manor, house

altar, chapel, abbey, shrine, temple, monastery, cathedral, sanctum, crypt, catacomb, tomb

orchard, arbor, vineyard, farm, farmstead, shire, garden, ranch

plaza, district, quarter, market, courtyard, inn, stables, tavern, blacksmith, forge, mine, mill, quarry, gallows, apothecary, college, bakery, clothier, library, guild house, bath house, pleasure house, brothel, jail, prison, dungeon, cellar, basement, attic, sewer, cistern

lookout, post, tradepost, camp, outpost, hovel, hideaway, lair, nook, watch, roost, respite, retreat, hostel, holdout, redoubt, perch, refuge, haven, alcove, haunt, knell, enclave, station, caravan, exchange, conclave

port, bridge, ferry, harbor, landing, jetty, wharf, berth, footbridge, dam, beacon, lighthouse, marina, dockyard, shipyard

road, street, way, row, lane, trail, corner, crossing, gate, junction, waygate, end, wall, crossroads, barrier, bulwark, blockade, pavilion, avenue, promenade, alley, fork, route

Time & Direction

North, South, East, West, up, down, side, rise, fall, over, under

Winter, Spring, Summer, Autumn, solstice, equanox, vernal, ever, never

dusk, dawn, dawnrise, morning, night, nightfall, evening, sundown, sunbreak, sunset

lunar, solar, sun, moon, star, eclipse

Geographical Terms

Cave, cavern, cenote, precipice, crevasse, crater, maar, chasm, ravine, trench, rift, pit

Cliff, bluff, crag, scarp, outcrop, stack, tor, falls, run, eyrie, aerie

Hill, mountain, volcano, knoll, hillock, downs, barrow, plateau, mesa, butte, pike, peak, mount, summit, horn, knob, pass, ridge, terrace, gap, point, rise, rim, range, view, vista, canyon, hogback, ledge, stair, descent

Valley, gulch, gully, vale, dale, dell, glen, hollow, grotto, gorge, bottoms, basin, knoll, combe

Meadow, grassland, field, pasture, steppe, veld, sward, lea, mead, fell, moor, moorland, heath, croft, paddock, boondock, prairie, acre, strath, heights, mount, belt

Woodlands, woods, forest, bush, bower, arbor, grove, weald, timberland, thicket, bosk, copse, coppice, underbrush, hinterland, park, jungle, rainforest, wilds, frontier, outskirts

Desert, dunes, playa, arroyo, chaparral, karst, salt flats, salt pan, oasis, spring, seep, tar pit, hot springs, fissure, steam vent, geyser, waste, wasteland, badland, brushland, dustbowl, scrubland

Ocean, sea, lake, pond, spring, tarn, mere, sluice, pool, coast, gulf, bay

Lagoon, cay, key, reef, atoll, shoal, tideland, tide flat, swale, cove, sandspit, strand, beach

Snowdrift, snowbank, permafrost, floe, hoar, rime, tundra, fjord, glacier, iceberg

River, stream, creek, brook, tributary, watersmeet, headwater, ford, levee, delta, estuary, firth, strait, narrows, channel, eddy, inlet, rapids, mouth, falls

Wetland, marsh, bog, fen, moor, bayou, glade, swamp, banks, span, wash, march, shallows, mire, morass, quag, quagmire, everglade, slough, lowland, sump, reach

Island, isle, peninsula, isthmus, bight, headland, promontory, cape, pointe, cape

More under the cut including: Color words, Animal/Monster related words, Rocks/Metals/Gems list, Foliage, People groups/types, Weather/Environment/ Elemental words, Man-made Items, Body Parts, Mechanical sounding words, a huge list of both pleasant and unpleasant Atmospheric Descriptors, and a huge list of Fantasy Word-parts.

Color Descriptions

Warm: red, scarlet, crimson, rusty, cerise, carmine, cinnabar, orange, vermillion, ochre, peach, salmon, saffron, yellow, gold, lemon, amber, pink, magenta, maroon, brown, sepia, burgundy, beige, tan, fuchsia, taupe

Cool: green, beryl, jade, evergreen, chartreuse, olive, viridian, celadon, blue, azure, navy, cerulean, turquoise, teal, cyan, cobalt, periwinkle, beryl, purple, violet, indigo, mauve, plum

Neutral: gray, silver, ashy, charcoal, slate, white, pearly, alabaster, ivory, black, ebony, jet

dark, dusky, pale, bleached, blotchy, bold, dappled, lustrous, faded, drab, milky, mottled, opaque, pastel, stained, subtle, ruddy, waxen, tinted, tinged, painted

Animal / Monster-Related Words

Bear, eagle, wolf, serpent, hawk, horse, goat, sheep, bull, raven, crow, dog, stag, rat, boar, lion, hare, owl, crane, goose, swan, otter, frog, toad, moth, bee, wasp, beetle, spider, slug, snail, leech, dragonfly, fish, trout, salmon, bass, crab, shell, dolphin, whale, eel, cod, haddock

Dragon, goblin, giant, wyvern, ghast, siren, lich, hag, ogre, wyrm, kraken

Talon, scale, tusk, hoof, mane, horn, fur, feather, fang, wing, whisker, bristle, paw, tail, beak, claw, web, quill, paw, maw, pelt, haunch, gill, fin,

Hive, honey, nest, burrow, den, hole, wallow

Rocks / Metals / Minerals

Gold, silver, brass, bronze, copper, platinum, iron, steel, tin, mithril, electrum, adamantite, quicksilver, fool’s gold, titanium

Diamond, ruby, emerald, sapphire, topaz, opal, pearl, jade, jasper, onyx, citrine, aquamarine, turquoise, lapiz lazuli, amethyst, quartz, crystal, amber, jewel

Granite, shale, marble, limestone, sandstone, slate, diorite, basalt, rhyolite, obsidian, glass

Earth, stone, clay, sand, silt, salt, mote, lode, vein, ore, ingot, coal, boulder, bedrock, crust, rubble, pebble, gravel, cobble, dust, clod, peat, muck mud, slip, loam, dirt, grit, scree, shard, flint, stalactite/mite

Trees / Plants / Flowers

Tree, ash, aspen, pine, birch, alder, willow, dogwood, oak, maple, walnut, chestnut, cedar, mahogany, palm, beech, hickory, hemlock, cottonwood, hawthorn, sycamore, poplar, cypress, mangrove, elm, fir, spruce, yew

Branch, bough, bramble, gnarl, burr, tangle, thistle, briar, thorn, moss, bark, shrub, undergrowth, overgrowth, root, vine, bracken, reed, driftwood, coral, fern, berry, bamboo, nectar, petal, leaf, seed, clover, grass, grain, trunk, twig, canopy, cactus, weed, mushroom, fungus

Apple, olive, apricot, elderberry, coconut, sugar, rice, wheat, cotton, flax, barley, hops, onion, carrot, turnip, cabbage, squash, pumpkin, pepper

Flower, rose, lavender, lilac, jasmine, jonquil, marigold, carnelian, carnation, goldenrod, sage, wisteria, dahlia, nightshade, lily, daisy, daffodil, columbine, amaranth, crocus, buttercup, foxglove, iris, holly, hydrangea, orchid, snowdrop, hyacinth, tulip, yarrow, magnolia, honeysuckle, belladonna, lily pad, magnolia

People

Settler, Pilgrim, Pioneer, Merchant, Prospector, Maker, Surveyor, Mason, Overseer, Apprentice, Widow, Sailor, Miner, Blacksmith, Butcher, Baker, Brewer, Barkeep, Ferryman, Hangman, Gambler, Fisherman, Adventurer, Hero, Seeker, Hiker, Traveler, Crone

Mage, Magician, Summoner, Sorcerer, Wizard, Conjurer, Necromancer,

King, Queen, Lord, Count, Baron, Guard, Soldier, Knight, Vindicator, Merchant, Crusader, Imperator, Syndicate, Vanguard, Champion, Warden, Victor, Legionnaire, Master, Archer, Footman, Gladiator, Barbarian, Captain, Commodore,

Beggar, Hunter, Ranger, Deadman, Smuggler, Robber, Swindler, Rebel, Bootlegger, Outlaw, Pirate, Brigand, Ruffian, Highwayman, Cutpurse, Thief, Assassin

God, Goddess, Exarch, Angel, Devil, Demon, Cultist, Prophet, Hermit, Seer

council, clergy, guild, militia, choir

Climate, Environment, & The Elements

Cold, cool, brisk, frosty, chilly, icy, freezing, frozen, frigid, glacial, bitter, biting, bleak, arctic, polar, boreal, wintry, snowy, snow, blizzarding, blizzard, sleeting, sleet, chill, frost, ice, icebound, ice cap, floe, snowblind, frostbite, coldsnap, avalanche, snowflake

Hot, sunny, humid, sweltering, steaming, boiling, sizzling, blistering, scalding, smoking, caldescent, dry, parched, arid, fallow, thirsty, melting, molten, fiery, blazing, burning, charring, glowing, searing, scorching, blasted, sun, fire, heat, flame, wildfire, bonfire, inferno, coal, ash, cinder, ember, flare, pyre, tinder, kindling, aflame, alight, ablaze, lava, magma, slag,

Wet, damp, dank, soggy, sodden, soaked, drenched, dripping, sopping, briny, murky, rain, storm, hail, drizzle, sprinkle, downpour, deluge, squall, water, cloud, fog, mist, dew, puddle, pool, current, whirlpool, deep, depths, tide, waves, whitewater, waterfall, tidal wave, flow, flood, leak, drain

Wind, breeze, gust, billow, gail, draft, waft, zephyr, still, airy, clear, smokey, tempest, tempestuous, windswept, aerial, lofty, torrid, turbulent, nebulous, tradewind, thunder, lightning, spark, cyclone, tornado, whirlwind, hurricane, typhoon

Man-made Item Words

Furnace, forge, anvil, vault, strap, strip, whetstone, brick, sword, blade, axe, dagger, shield, buckler, morningstar, bow, quiver, arrow, polearm, flail, staff, stave, sheath, hilt, hammer, knife, helm, mantle, banner, pauldron, chainmail, mace, dart, cutlass, canon, needle, cowl, belt, buckle, bandana, goggles, hood, boot, heel, spindle, spool, thread, sweater, skirt, bonnet, apron, leather, hide, plate, tunic, vest, satin, silk, wool, velvet, lace, corset, stocking, binding

Plow, scythe, (wheel) barrow, saddle, harrow, brand, collar, whip, leash, lead, bridle, stirrup, wheel, straw, stall, barn, hay, bale, pitchfork, well, log, saw, lumber, sod, thatch, mortar, brick, cement, concrete, pitch, pillar, window, fountain, door, cage, spoke, pole, table, bench, plank, board

Candle, torch, cradle, broom, lamp, lantern, clock, bell, lock, hook, trunk, looking glass, spyglass, bottle, vase, locket, locker, key, handle, rope, knot, sack, pocket, pouch, manacle, chain, stake, coffin, fan. cauldron, kettle, pot, bowl, pestle, oven, ladle, spoon, font, wand, potion, elixir, draught, portal, book, tome, scroll, word, manuscript, letter, message, grimoire, map, ink, quill, pen, cards, dice

Coin, coronet, crown, circlet, scepter, treasure, riches, scales, pie, tart, loaf, biscuit, custard, caramel, pudding, porridge, stew, bread, tea, gravy, gristle, spice, lute, lyre, harp, drum, rouge, powder, perfume, brush

bilge, stern, pier, sail, anchor, mast, dock, deck, flag, ship, boat, canoe, barge, wagon, sled, carriage, buggy, cart

Wine, brandy, whiskey, ale, moonshine, gin, cider, rum, grog, beer, brew, goblet, flagon, flask, cask, tankard, stein, mug, barrel, stock, wort, malt

Body Parts

Head, throat, finger, foot, hand, neck, shoulder, rib, jaw, eye, lips, bosom

Skull, spine, bone, tooth, heart, blood, tears, gut, beard

Mechanical-Sounding Words

cog, fuse, sprocket, wrench, screw, nail, bolt, lever, pulley, spanner, gear, spring, shaft, switch, button, cast, pipe, plug, dial, meter, nozzle, cord, brake, gauge, coil, oil, signal, wire, fluke, staple, clamp, bolt, nut, bulb, patch, pump, cable, socket

torque, force, sonic, spark, fizzle, thermal, beam, laser, steam, buzz, mega, mecha, electro, telsa, power, flicker, charge, current, flow, tinker

Atmospheric Words

Unpleasant, Dangerous, Threatening

(nouns) death, fury, battle, scar, shadow, razor, nightmare, wrath, bone, splinter, peril, war, riptide, strife, reckoning, sorrow, terror, deadwood, nether, venom, grime, rage, void, conquest, pain, folly, revenge, horrid, mirk, shear, fathom, frenzy, corpselight/marshlight, reaper, gloom, doom, torment, torture, spite, grizzled, sludge, refuse, spore, carrion, fear, pyre, funeral, shade, beast, witch, grip, legion, downfall, ruin, plague, woe, bane, horde, acid, fell, grief, corpse, mildew, mold, miter, dirge

(adjectives) dead, jagged, decrepit, fallen, darkened, blackened, dire, grim, feral, wild, broken, desolate, mad, lost, under, stagnant, blistered, derelict, forlorn, unbound, sunken, fallow, shriveled, wayward, bleak, low, weathered, fungal, last, brittle, sleepy, -strewn, dusky, deserted, empty, barren, vacant, forsaken, bare, bereft, stranded, solitary, abandoned, discarded, forgotten, deep, abysmal, bottomless, buried, fathomless,unfathomable, diseased, plagued, virulent, noxious, venomous, toxic, fetid, revolting, putrid, rancid, foul, squalid, sullied, vile, blighted, vicious, ferocious, dangerous, savage, cavernous, vast, yawning, chasmal, echoing, dim, dingy, gloomy, inky, lurid, shaded, shadowy, somber, sunless, tenebrous, unlit, veiled, hellish, accursed, sulfurous, damned, infernal, condemned, doomed, wicked, sinister, dread, unending, spectral, ghostly, haunted, eldritch, unknown, weary, silent, hungry, cloven, acidic

(verb/adverbs): wither (withering / withered), skulk (skulking), whisper, skitter, chitter, sting, slither, writhe, gape, screech, scream, howl, lurk, roil, twist, shift, swarm, spawn, fester, bleed, howl, shudder, shrivel, devour, swirl, maul, trip, smother, weep, shatter, ruin, curse, ravage, hush, rot, drown, sunder, blister, warp, fracture, die, shroud, fall, surge, shiver, roar, thunder, smolder, break, silt, slide, lash, mourn, crush, wail, decay, crumble, erode, decline, reek, lament, taint, corrupt, defile, poison, infect, shun, sigh, sever, crawl, starve, grind, cut, wound, bruise, maim, stab, bludgeon, rust, mutilate, tremble, stumble, fumble, clank, clang

Pleasant, Safe, Neutral

(nouns) spirit, luck, soul, oracle, song, sky, smile, rune, obelisk, cloud, timber, valor, triumph, rest, dream, thrall, might, valiance, glory, mirror, life, hope, oath, serenity, sojourn, god, hearth, crown, throne, crest, guard, rise, ascent, circle, ring, twin, vigil, breath, new, whistle, grasp, snap, fringe, threshold, arch, cleft, bend, home, fruit, wilds, echo, moonlight, sunlight, starlight, splendor, vigilance, honor, memory, fortune, aurora, paradise, caress

(adjectives) gentle, pleasant, prosperous, peaceful, sweet, good, great, mild, grand, topic, lush, wild, abundant, verdant, sylvan, vital, florid, bosky, callow, verdurous, lucious, fertile, spellbound, captivating, mystical, hidden, arcane, clandestine, esoteric, covert, cryptic, runic, otherworldly, touched, still, fair, deep, quiet, bright, sheer, tranquil, ancient, light, far, -wrought, tidal, royal, shaded, swift, true, free, high, vibrant, pure, argent, hibernal, ascendant, halcyon, silken, bountiful, gilded, colossal, massive, stout, elder, -bourne, furrowed, happy, merry, -bound, loud, lit, silk, quiet, bright, luminous, shining, burnished, glossy, brilliant, lambent, lucent, lustrous, radiant, resplendent, vivid, vibrant, illuminated, silvery, limpid, sunlit, divine, sacred, holy, eternal, celestial, spiritual, almighty, anointed, consecrated, exalted, hallowed, sanctified, ambrosial, beatific, blissful, demure, naked, bare, ample, coy, deific, godly, omnipotent, omnipresent, rapturous, sacramental, sacrosanct, blessed, majestic, iridescent, glowing, overgrown, dense, hard, timeless, sly, scatter, everlasting, full, half, first, last

(verb/adverbs) arch (arching / arched), wink (winking), sing, nestle, graze, stroll, roll, flourish, bloom, bud, burgeon, live, dawn, hide, dawn, run, pray, wake, laugh, wake, glimmer, glitter, drift, sleep, tumble, bind, arch, blush, grin, glister, beam, meander, wind, widen, charm, bewitch, enthrall, entrance, enchant, allure, beguile, glitter, shimmer, sparkle twinkle, crest, quiver, slumber, herald, shelter, leap, click, climb, scuttle, dig, barter, chant, hum, chime, kiss, flirt, tempt, tease, play, seduce

Generic “Fantasy-Sounding” Word Parts

A - D

aaz, ada, adaer, adal, adar, adbar, adir, ae, ael, aer, aern, aeron, aeryeon, agar, agis, aglar, agron, ahar, akan, akyl, al, alam, alan, alaor, ald, alea, ali, alir, allyn, alm, alon, alor, altar, altum, aluar, alys, amar, amaz, ame, ammen, amir, amol, amn, amus, anar, andor, ang, ankh, ar, ara, aram, arc, arg, arian, arkh, arla, arlith, arn, arond, arthus, arum, arvien, ary, asha, ashyr, ask, assur, aster, astra, ath, athor, athra, athryn, atol, au, auga, aum, auroch, aven, az, azar, baal, bae, bael, bak, bal, balor, ban, bar, bara, barr, batol, batar, basir, basha, batyr, bel, belph, belu, ben, beo, bere, berren, berun, besil, bezan, bhaer, bhal, blask, blis, blod, bor, boraz, bos, bran, brath, braun, breon, bri, bry, bul, bur, byl, caer, cal, calan, cara, cassa, cath, cela, cen, cenar, cerul, chalar, cham, chion, cimar, clo, coram, corel, corman, crim, crom, daar, dach, dae, dago, dagol, dahar, dala, dalar, dalin, dam, danas, daneth, dannar, dar, darian, darath, darm, darma, darro, das, dasa, dasha, dath, del, delia, delimm, dellyn, delmar, delo, den, dess, dever, dhaer, dhas, dhaz, dhed, dhin, din, dine, diar, dien, div, djer, dlyn, dol, dolan, doon, dora, doril, doun, dral, dranor, drasil, dren, drian, drien, drin, drov, druar, drud, duald, duatha, duir, dul, dulth, dun, durth, dyra, dyver,

E - H

ea, eber, eden, edluk, egan, eiel, eilean, ejen, elath, eld, eldor, eldra, elith emar, ellesar, eltar, eltaran, elth, eltur, elyth, emen, empra, emril, emvor, ena, endra, enthor, erad, erai, ere, eriel, erith, erl, eron, erre, eryn, esk, esmel, espar, estria, eta, ethel, eval, ezro, ezan, ezune, ezil, fael, faelar, faern, falk, falak, farak, faril, farla, fel, fen, fenris, fer, fet, fin, finar, forel, folgun, ful, fulk, fur, fyra, fallon, gael, gach, gabir, gadath, gal, galar, gana, gar, garth, garon, garok, garne, gath, geir, gelden, geren, geron, ghal, ghallar, ghast, ghel, ghom, ghon, gith, glae, glander, glar, glym, gol, goll, gollo, goloth, gorot, gost, goth, graeve, gran, grimm, grist, grom, grosh, grun, grym, gual, guil, guir, gulth, gulur, gur, gurnth, gwaer, haa, hael, haer, hadar, hadel, hakla, hala, hald, halana, halid, hallar, halon, halrua, halus, halvan, hamar, hanar, hanyl, haor, hara, haren, haresk, harmun, harrokh, harrow, haspur, haza, hazuth, heber, hela, helve, hem, hen, herath, hesper, heth, hethar, hind, hisari, hjaa, hlath, hlond, hluth, hoarth, holtar, horo, hotun, hrag, hrakh, hroth, hull, hyak, hyrza

I - M

iibra, ilth, ilus, ilira, iman, imar, imas, imb, imir, immer, immil, imne, impil, ingdal, innar, ir, iriae, iril, irith, irk, irul, isha, istis, isil, itala, ith, ithal, itka, jada, jae, jaeda, jahaka, jala, jarra, jaro, jath, jenda, jhaamm, jhothm, jinn, jinth, jyn, kado, kah, kal, kalif, kam, kana, kara, karg, kars, karth, kasp, katla, kaul, kazar, kazr, kela, kelem, kerym, keth, keva, kez, kezan, khaer, khal, khama, khaz, khara, khed, khel, khol, khur, kil, kor, korvan, koll, kos, kir, kra, kul, kulda, kund, kyne, lae, laen, lag, lan, lann, lanar, lantar, lapal, lar, laran, lareth, lark, lath, lauth, lav, lavur, lazar, leih, leshyr, leth, lhaza, lhuven, liad, liam, liard, lim, lin, lirn, lisk, listra, lith, liya, llair, llor, lok, lolth, loran, lorkh, lorn, loth, lothen, luen, luir, luk, lund, lur, luth, lyndus, lyra, lyth, maal, madrasm maera, maer, maerim, maes, mag, magra, mahand, mal, malar, mald, maldo, mar, mara, mark, marl, maru, maruk, meir, melish, memnon, mer, metar, methi, mhil, mina, mir, miram, mirk, mista, mith, moander, mok, modir, modan, mon, monn, mor, more, morel, moril, morn, moro, morrow, morth, mort, morum, morven, muar, mul, mydra, myr, myra, myst

N - S

naar, nadyra, naedyr, naga, najar, nal, naal, nalir, nar, naruk, narbond, narlith, narzul, nasaq, nashkel, natar, nath, natha, neir, neth, nether, nhall, nikh, nil, nilith, noan, nolvurm nonthal, norda, noro, novul, nul, nur, nus, nyan, nyth, ober, odra, oghr, okoth, olleth, olodel, omgar, ondath, onthril, ordul, orish, oroch, orgra, orlim, ormath, ornar, orntath, oroch, orth, orva, oryn, orzo, ostel, ostor, ostrav, othea, ovar, ozod, ozul, palan, palad, pae, peldan, pern, perris, perim, pele, pen, phail, phanda, phara, phen, phendra, pila, pinn, pora, puril, pur, pyra, qadim, quar, quel, ques, quil, raah, rael, ran, ranna, rassil, rak, rald, rassa, reddan, reith, relur, ren, rendril, resil, reska, reth, reven, revar, rhy, rhynn, ria, rian, rin, ris, rissian, rona, roch, rorn, rora, rotha, rual, ruar, ruhal, ruil, ruk, runn, rusk, ryn, saa, saar, saal, sabal, samar, samrin, sankh, sar, sarg, sarguth, sarin, sarlan, sel, seld, sember, semkh, sen, sendrin, septa, senta, seros, shaar, shad, shadra, shae, shaen, shaera, shak, shalan, sham, shamath, shan, shana, sharan, shayl, shemar, shere, shor, shul, shyll, shyr, sidur, sil, silvan, sim, sintar, sirem, skar, skell, skur, skyr, sokol, solan, sola, somra, sor, ssin, stel, strill, suldan, sulk, sunda, sur, surkh, suth, syl, sylph, sylune, syndra, syth

T - Z

taak, taar, taer, tah, tak, tala, talag, talar, talas, talath, tammar, tanar, tanil, tar, tara, taran, tarl, tarn, tasha, tath, tavil, telar, teld, telf, telos, tempe, tethy, tezir, thaar, thaer, thal, thalag, thalas, thalan, thalar, thamor, thander, thangol, thar, thay, thazal, theer, theim, thelon, thera, thendi, theril, thiir, thil, thild, thimir, thommar, thon, thoon, thor, thran, thrann, threl, thril, thrul, thryn, thuk, thultan, thume, thun, thy, thyn, thyr, tir, tiras, tirum, tohre, tol, tolar, tolir, tolzrin, tor, tormel, tormir, traal, triel, trith, tsath, tsur, tul, tur, turiver, turth, tymor, tyr, uder, udar, ugoth, uhr, ukh, ukir, uker, usten, ulgarth, ulgoth, ultir, ulur, umar, umath, umber, unara, undro, undu, untha, upir, ur, ursa, ursol, uron, uth, uthen, uz, van, vaar, vaelan, vaer, vaern, val valan, valash, vali, valt, vandan, vanede, vanrak, var, varyth, vassa, vastar, vaunt, vay, vel, velar, velen, velius, vell, velta, ven, veren, vern, vesper, vilar, vilhon, vintor, vir, vira, virdin, volo, volun, von, voon, vor, voro, vos, vosir, vosal, vund, war, wara, whel, wol, wynn, wyr, wyrm, xer, xul, xen, xian, yad, yag, yal, yar, yath, yeon, yhal, yir, yirar, yuir, yul, yur, zail, zala, zalhar, zan, zanda, zar, zalar, zarach, zaru, zash, zashu, zemur, zhent, zim, ziram, zindala, zindar, zoun, zul, zurr, zuth, zuu, zym

A lot of places are named after historical events, battles, and people, so keep that in mind. God/Goddess names tied to your world also work well. Places are also often named after things that the area is known for, like Georgia being known for its peaches.

My brain was fried by the end of this so feel free to add more!

I hope you find this reference helpful and good luck world-building!

-Mel

#worldbuilding #d&d #dnd #writing resources #fantasy #word list #dungeons and dragons

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emma-poole · 4 years

Text

I’ve been eating at diners by myself lately, thinking about the state of my life while stuffing back forkfuls of lasagna and boats of french fries. Something about the oversized display of baked goods comforts me, how there seems to be a dessert for every preference, the lingering smell of confectioners sugar and syrupy fruit. All the old men at the counter are on their phones. They are propped on their elbows, sipping lukewarm mugs of coffee, gazing up only to look at what I’ve ordered. I come here to be alone in the company of others, to hear my thank you answered by sweetheart and eat weird combinations of food without anyone commenting on my choices. I love the excess of a diner menu; giant, spiral-bound, breakfast all day, sides of blue cheese dressing pre-prepared in tiny plastic cups, overflowing salads. Everything is familiar, and promised. Diners are a good place to visit when you need certainty.

•

I spent a lot of time on the M train this Fall. It’s a pleasant ride, specifically between Essex and Marcy, when Manhattan becomes Brooklyn, and out of a dark tunnel a hopeful sky appears. I took a lot of ubers after midnight, falling asleep as the East River zoomed by, jolted from having to leave a warm bed and body. I always apologized for keeping them waiting when I entered the car, stealing as much time as I could before saying goodbye to you. No problem, they’d whisper politely. They assumed I was you, and I didn’t correct them.

As with other inevitable truths, relationships have a way of marking their territory, creating significance in what was formerly an arbitrary place, route, expression, or menu item. I rode the M train to get to you. And now, all that is you exists in the ephemera of my memory.

I’m sipping drip coffee at Bluestone Lane on the Upper West side. The aesthetic here is dreamy; blue tile accented in lush succulents, (they may be fake?) sleek, modern lines, and menus that look like they were hand-dipped in cerulean watercolor. I have a corner bar seat. Among barista grade cartons of milk, mason jars full of coffee beans are embellished with tiny rainbow flags. Tap water is served in glass bottles. Everything is casual but intentional. Is this a Bluestone Lane review? Am I Frank Bruni?

The woman adjacent to me orders the same thing I do- soft scramble, toast, coffee. She adds bacon, which I debate but decide against at the last minute. She must smell my nostalgia because minutes later, she offers me a piece of hers just as I am finishing my plate. So that your last bite is perfect, she smiles. I graciously accept. The kindness of strangers! Wow. So smokey. Now I know. I thank her. She speaks to the employees with the easy candor of a regular. Her black turtleneck and black-rimmed glasses make her both blend in and stand out against the cafe’s crisp interior. Our interaction with each other, brief but intimate, is one of many New York moments I have lodged in a cozy nook of my brain. Memories pour in: the handsome older gentleman at the bar in midtown with the brightest blue eyes who opened up about his child sexual abuse. A drummer I met on a park bench in my early twenties, who I spent an entire magical day with, then briefly dated. Winter, an older woman on the subway squealing in delight at the flowers poking out of my grocery bag. I haven’t seen pussywillows in so long! They feel like Spring. Something magical happens when you’re not looking.

Each year during this time - the inbetween season when fall begins its slow hatch into winter, when days become darker and rotted pumpkins emerge on sidewalk corners blending in with the foliage, my inclination to reflect takes over. Somehow, this perfect coffee, in its mini glass carafe and tiny pitcher of cream- why are miniature things so satisfying?- stirs the overwhelming desire to consider: where I have been, where I am going, what has changed. I cup my hands around the warm mug, lower my face to the toasty aroma, and inhale.

Speaking of warm beverages, I’ve begun seeing someone who enjoys handing me homemade ones, usually of the tea variety, in small, tempered glassware. The gesture is hospitable and cozy, though he swears this is a year-round activity, not solely reserved for winter or freezing apartments. I like watching him putter around his kitchen, clanging spoons on saucepans and wiping grease with the dish towel he uses to wipe everything. He has a bidet, which delights me every time, and floor plants, half-gallon jugs of fancy Dr. Bronner’s soap perched at the top of his closet. I like the way he inhabits his home, even when there are clothes in every corner and old dishes in the sink. He apologizes for the mess each time I come over, slightly more dramatic in his delivery than necessary. He has a penchant for theatrics. In a couple of days, it will be clean again. He will wipe down countertops and burn scented oil that reminds me of the first night I spent there, on a warm summer evening just days before my 30th birthday. We drank hot tea on a hot night, and I made fun of him for living in Brooklyn and liking tea so much.

Still, months later, when he sets the glass in front of me, the sip feels like remembrance; warm, hopeful, familiar.

The shape of your face, you say, it’s beautiful. Compliments from you are rare. I ask you to repeat yourself.

•

The shape of your face is angular like the flat rooftops of Brooklyn, or a piece of sea glass poking out of sand. I see my ancestry in your olive skin, the way your oy is guttural.

•

They stare at me, the Hasidic men in your neighborhood. They don’t know I am one of them, kind of. I imagine reaching out and weaving my fingers through their tangly beards. I imagine they feel like a cross between steel wool and moss.

•

Moss is soft, like your beard. Surprising at first, but smooth to the touch. I resist the urge to pull all the white hairs out of your chin. I like them there, the way you have to look closely to see the salt speckle. I cup my hand around your jaw and kiss your adam’s apple.

•

When you go down on me, I close my eyes and focus on my breath. Your head bobs with the arch of my hips, but you are a buoy, steady. Sometimes we communicate best without words. I feel you when you’re not there in the slick when I walk. It’s the same slick that makes your mouth glow when you come up for air.

•

At times, this feels like a stubborn knot. Or a blocked windpipe; something that needs opening but only constricts more when fiddled with. Somewhere I am positive a loose thread exists.

•

In certain meditation visualizations, the image of a thread loosening is used to elicit the feeling of release. An uncoiling, so to speak.

•

Meditation exists to ease the ripples of the mind. It widens the gap between thought and action. Find something tangible to focus on, they say.

•

And so-

•

Right now I am breathing. The rain is a muted orchestra outside my window. I don’t know, but it’s ok. The skyline looks coziest when viewed from the inside of an apartment, under a marshmallow duvet, against flannel sheets. I still want my name in your mouth.

To try to describe my time with you feels like an injustice.

How could they possibly know the fragrant smell of your skin after sex?

How you snuck your hands in my armpits the first night we met, inhaling deeply, causing me to shriek, giggling but delighted that we shared the same perversion. How your eyes changed right after, possessed by something greater than your intellect. Your smell, you said, looking right at me, really turns me on.

To be wanted by you was a victory, and that was the problem.

•

I’ll be careful not to undermine our time together by emphasizing sex, because it was much more than that. But try to understand- it was the simplest way you let go. As a lover, you were all there; generous, passionate, present. As a partner, you kept yourself at a distance by picking and choosing the moments you allowed me in.

But-

You are the first man I have dated who completely embodies his femininity. This is not lost on me. I miss the way you coil your body around mine, how you let yourself be held, and weep openly for your mother. I miss you tenderly shampooing my hair in the shower, running your hands along my entire soapy body, kissing the hollow of my collarbone and throat. How you examined my flesh with the curiosity of a scientist and the awe of an artist seeing a masterpiece appear before his eyes. I miss your gross, your mess, your hunger. I dreamt of you last night and woke up thinking how bizarre it is that you know someone intimately and then you don’t. And now it seems I am writing to you, or for you, and that feels wrong, because this time and these realizations are mine and I am only just now reclaiming a world in which your essence doesn’t saturate every part.

•

There is a brief but intense period of time when the consequence of my decision will gnaw at me; sleep taunts, my mind reels. I used to think that the constant presence of another person on your mind alluded to some sort of fate; if I can’t stop thinking of them, they must be thinking of me. Now I realize, like anything, knowing someone becomes a habit, and habits must be unlearned.

For months, my fingers grew skilled at texting you nonsense throughout the day. I started seeing your name on building signs, subway ads, dreams. My body warmed to the thought of you. This is meant to be, I’d meditate on like a mantra.

And still-

I couldn’t figure out why my heart twisted in anxiety each time I thought about us. Why, when I imagined you as the father of my children, something we had talked about, the image felt fuzzy and always slightly out of reach. Why, years down the road, visualizing myself married to you, I had the overwhelming sensation that it would feel lonely.

You, so generous of spirit and warm in nature. Who brings people together and makes giant pots of tea. Who has so much to give beneath the fear that permeates your every move. It was very difficult to walk away from a world that you had opened to me. I often wonder how differently things would look if I hadn’t, though I no longer wish I made the other choice.

I’ve been meditating again. Not well, but it’s ok. Mostly, I think. Of you, of my choices, of this precious, challenging life.

Right now I am breathing. The rain is a muted orchestra outside my window. I know a little more than I did, and that feels like grace.

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blog-sliverofjade · 5 years

Text

List of Detention Camp Addresses and Phone Numbers part 3

From 2600

Prank call

Sign them up for junk mail

Fax them blank pages

Fly drones over them

Give 'em hell

Also, if you select a state here, you can sometimes get email addresses for fun things like mail bait.

OHIO

Bedford Heights City Jail

5661 Perkins Road

Bedford Heights, OH 44146

(440) 786-3254

Butler County Correctional Complex

705 Hanover Street

Hamilton, OH 45011

(513) 785-1105

(614) 469-2900

Geauga County Safety Center

12450 Merritt Road

Chardon, OH 44024

(216) 535-0368

(440) 279-2009

Morrow County Correctional Facility

101 Home Road

Mt. Gilead, OH 43338

(419) 947-1151

(614) 469-2900

Seneca County Jail

3040 South State Route 100

Tiffin, OH 44883

(216) 535-0368

(419) 448-5074

OKLAHOMA

David L. Moss Criminal Justice Center

300 North Denver Avenue

Tulsa, OK 74103

(918) 596-8910

Grady County Law Enforcement Center

215 North 3rd Street

Chickasha, OK 73018

(405) 219-3191

(405) 222-1000

Kay County Detention Center

1101 West Dry Road

Newkirk, OK 74647

(580) 362-3393

PENNSYLVANIA

Berks Family Residential Center

1040 Berks Road

Leesport, PA 19533

(610) 816-0743

Clinton County Correctional Facility

58 Pine Mountain Road

McElhattan, PA 17748

(570) 547-6903

(570) 769-7680

Pike County Correctional Facility

175 Pike County Boulevard

Lords Valley, PA 18428

(570) 775-5500

York County Prison

3400 Concord Road

York, PA 17402

(717) 840-7253

TEXAS

Brooks County Detention Center

901 County Road 201

Falfurrias, TX 78355

(361) 325-3340

Burnet County Jail

900 County Lane

Burnet, TX 78611

(512) 236-6385

(512) 715-8600

Central Texas Detention Facility

218 South Laredo Street

San Antonio, TX 78207

(210) 227-5600

(210) 967-7015

East Hidalgo Detention Center

1300 East Highway 107

La Villa, TX 78562

(956) 262-4142

El Paso Processing Center

8915 Montana Avenue

El Paso, TX 79925

(915) 225-0700

(915) 225-0775

El Valle Detention Facility

1800 Industrial Drive

Raymondville, TX 78580

(956) 689-9999

Federal Satellite Low La Tuna

Old Ironsides Drive, Building 11636

El Paso, TX 79906

(915) 225-0700

(915) 225-0717

Henderson County Detention Center

206 North Murchison Street

Athens, TX 75751

(903) 675-5128

(903) 677-6322

Houston Contract Detention Facility

15850 Export Plaza Drive

Houston, TX 77032

(281) 449-1481

IAH Secure Adult Detention Facility

3400 FM 350 South

Livingston, TX 77351

(936) 967-1700

(936) 967-8000

Jack Harwell Detention Center

3101 East Marlin Highway

Waco, TX 76705

(254) 759-5900

Joe Corley Detention Facility

500 Hilbig Road

Conroe, TX 77301

(936) 520-5000

(936) 521-4000

Johnson County Detention Center

1800 Ridgemar Drive

Cleburne, TX 76031

(817) 556-6000

(817) 645-2918

Karnes County Civil Detention Center

810 Commerce Street

Karnes City, TX 78118

(830) 254-2500

(830) 780-3525

Karnes County Residential Center

409 FM 1144

Karnes City, TX 78118

(830) 254-2500

Laredo Detention Center

4702 East Saunders

Laredo, TX 78401

(956) 727-4118

La Salle County Regional Detention Center

832 East Texas 44

Encinal, TX 78019

(956) 948-5193

Montgomery Processing Center

806 Hilbig Road

Conroe, TX 77301

(936) 521-4900

Port Isabel Service Processing Center

27991 Buena Vista Boulevard

Los Fresnos, TX 78566

(956) 547-1700

Prairieland Detention Center

1209 Sunflower Lane

Alvarado, TX 76009

(817) 409-3995

Rio Grande Detention Center

1001 San Rio Boulevard

Laredo, TX 78046

(956) 728-6600

Rolling Plains Correctional Facility

118 County Road 206

Haskell, TX 79521

(214) 905-5829

(940) 864-6200

South Texas Detention Complex

566 Veterans Drive

Pearsall, TX 78061

(210) 231-4505

(830) 334-2939

South Texas Family Residential Center

300 El Rancho Way

Dilley, TX 78017

(830) 378-6500

T. Don Hutto Residential Center

1001 Welch Street

Taylor, TX 76574

(512) 218-2400

Val Verde County Detention Center

253 FM 2523 Hamilton Lane

Del Rio, TX 78840

(830) 778-0096

(830) 778-7299

West Texas Detention Facility

401 South Vaquero Avenue

Sierra Blanca, TX 79851

(915) 369-2269

Willacy County Regional Detention Facility

1601 Buffalo Drive

Raymondville, TX 78580

(956) 689-5099

#fuck ice #abolish borders #abolish ice #detention camps #detention centers #trump camps #internment camps

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marylandparanormal · 6 years

Photo

Ghost Expedition Montgomery County, Silver Spring Maryland: Burnt Mills West Special Park/Robert B Morse Water Filtration Plant

The Burnt Mills area in Silver Spring, Maryland takes it name from a mill that was said to have burned down there sometime before 1788, possibly circa the 1740′s timeframe

From an antique copper stencil, veteran local journalist J. Harry Shannon (aka "The Rambler") speculated in 1916 the burnt mill may have been known as "Glen Cairn Mills Family Flour"

Milling operations in Burnt Mills date to 1745 when then area was surveyed and patented as the "Mill Seat." The area's terrain and rapid waterfalls enabled the operations of a series of grist, saw and flour mills. The first mill in Mill Seat was constructed later that year on property owned by Samuel Beall Jr. And this was likely the namesake mill that burned down

The earliest records of a grist mill at Burnt Mills date to 1803 when the property known as "Beall’s Industry" was sold by Walter Beall to Peter Kemp and James W. Perry

Nathan Lufborough acquired the mill property, described in an 1823 deed as "one hundred acres more or less". He had intended to sell the mill in 1847 but he died before the sale could be completed, leaving the property to his heirs. The property was listed in 1850 as a “flour and bone” mill

The mill at Burnt Mills was owned by James L. Bond from 1858 to 1886. The mill produced three grades of flour and stone-ground corn mill. The technology of the mill improved over time. A roller mill replaced mill stones around 1895. A turbine had replaced the wheel by 1880

Bond sold the property to his sons-in law in 1886. The last owner was Dr. George W. Bready who acquired the flour mill and land in 1906

In 1913, The Rambler rendered the following portrait of the old flour mill in the Sunday Star

The shingle roof of the mill is green, dark and old, with moss, but nearly everything else about the mill - the miller, of course, included - is whitened by the flour and meal ground there, and which has been grinding there so long that no man's memory runneth to the contrary

Near the mill is the miller's house, bowered in the shade of numerous close-growing trees and the home of Dr. William T. Brown, surrounded by shrubbery, orchard and vineyard

By 1922, the mill had ceased operations. That year, the mill was sold to the Washington Suburban Sanitary Commission (WSSC). The old mill sat idle for years until it was demolished in 1928

In 1879, Burnt Mills (Four Corners) was a farm community with a population of 125 persons. In 1934, the Robert E. Lattimer Land Company developed the area as a community of country estates known as Burnt Mills Hills. The development preserved the area’s topography of rolling hills and streams and farm lanes

WSSC began construction of a water filtration facility in 1930. The plant featured a "state of art" design, by WSSC Chief Engineer Robert B. Morse, for rapid sand removal and water treatment

The plant had two filter assemblies, two pumping stations and a new concrete dam. Pumping stations were designed in the Georgian Revival style to give the appearance of large colonial houses rather than a public utility

The low-lift pumping station moved cleaned (sediment free-water) to filter assemblies where lime and ammonia were added

The filter assemblies featured circular rings that were used for each stage of the filtration process, which included coagulation, filtration, and delivery

Chlorine was added as the high-lift pumping station moved treated water to WSSC distribution lines

The late Robert Brooks Morse (1880-1936) was married to Carrie Emma Ross-Morse (1883-1979). They had two children: Caroline Allen Morse (1903-1905) and Katherine B. Morse-Devereaux (1904-1984)

He was trained as a civil engineer at Johns Hopkins University (A.B. 1901) and at Massachusetts Institute of Technology (S.B. 1904). He became Chief engineer at WSSC since its inception in 1918

Unfortunately, he died prematurely at age 55 due to blood poisoning, months before the water filtration plant opened. WSSC named the water filtration plant in his honor

The water filtration plant did not have the capacity to meet rising service demands from suburban growth and it was closed in 1962. The Maryland-National Capital Park and Planning Commission acquired the former water plant in 2000. Today they are recreational facilities known as Burnt Mills West Special Park (the high-lift pumping station) and Burnt Mills East Special Park (the low-lift pumping station)

There are no haunting legends associated with historical Burnt Mills nor the Robert B. Morse Water Filtration Facility. However, there may be potential for transcommunication experiences owing to area history. The ghost expedition will focus on "drop-in" communications, and not on evidence for a haunting

The ghost expedition will also participate in National Ghost Hunting Day (NGHD), an event sponsored by Haunted Journeys magazine. Connectivity and live streaming will be provided by SHINDIG. Digital marketing services for the event are being provided by CyberSpyder. The event will attempt to build a global “consciousness bridge” that will last two hours

Data from random event generators (REGs) belonging to the Global Consciousness Project (GCP) that are in proximity to participant locations will be monitored over the event

Results from NGHD 2016 noted a marked shift in random walk trending generated by GCP REGs at the outset of last year’s event

Similar patterns were also encountered at NGHD start in MPR’s REG experiment in 2017 in Dundalk

The film project will not be open to the public but will be livestreamed over the SHINDIG platform. Look for “Site, MD, USA, Burnt Mills West Special Park”

REFERENCES:

Beall, J.R. (1931). The history and construction of the mill at Burnt Mills, Maryland. Initiation Thesis. Records of Phi Mu Fraternity, Special Collections, University of Maryland Libraries. University of Maryland, College Park. Hosted at archive.org

Boyd, T.H.S. (1879). The history of Montgomery County, Maryland - From its earliest settlement in 1650 to 1879. Baltimore, W.K. Boyle and Son

Bushong, W. (1994, May). Robert B. Morse Water Filtration Plant. M33-22. Maryland-National Capital Park And Planning Commission. Maryland Historical Trust

Cook, E.M.V. (1992, Nov). The Story of Burnt Mills. In The Montgomery County Story, Quarterly Journal of the Montgomery County Historical Society, Vol. 35. No. 4., Rockville, MD. pp 225-235.

Find A Grave, database and images. Memorial page for Robert Brooks Morse (13 Sep 1880–31 Jan 1936), Find A Grave Memorial no. 135832899, citing Chebeague Island Cemetery, Chebeague Island, Cumberland County, Maine, USA. Maintained by townsendburial (contributor 47629974)

Historic Preservation, Montgomery County, Maryland. (1996, Mar 6). Montgomery County Atlas (MCATLAS) Map Viewer: ROBERT B. MORSE COMPLEX (WSSC). Resource Number: 33/022-000A. Maryland-National Capital Park And Planning Commission. Montgomery County, Maryland

Kelly, C.L. (2012). Burnt Mills Hills. M33-29. Maryland-National Capital Park And Planning Commission. Maryland Historical Trust

MONTGOMERY COUNTY, MARYLAND HISTORICAL CHRONOLOGY. (2018). Maryland State Archives

Montgomery Parks. (2016, Aug 15). Burnt Mills West Special Park. Maryland-National Capital Park And Planning Commission

Montgomery County Planning Department. Montgomery County Atlas (MCATLAS) Map Viewer: Burnt Mills West Special Park. Montgomery County (MD). Department of Parks. Montgomery County, Maryland

National Ghost Hunting Day: The World’s Largest Ghost Hunt. (2018). Haunted Journeys

Shannon, J.H. (1913, Jun 22). With the Rambler. Sunday Star, Washington DC. Reprinted in Neighbors of the Northwest Branch

Shannon, J.H. (1916, May 14). With the Rambler: Tramping the Northwest Branch. Sunday Star, Washington DC. Reprinted in Neighbors of the Northwest Branch

Sutton, R. (2016, Jun 16). Burnt Mills Dam has a long history in Montgomery County. Ross Sutton Blog. Keller Williams Real Estate

Williams, B.J. (2017). Exploring Collective Consciousness: Could There Be Some Implications for Paranity?. National Ghost Hunting Day Collective Consciousness Article. Psychical Research Foundation

IMAGES:

Historic American Engineering Record. (1968). REAR ELEVATION of high-lift pumping station. Robert B. Morse Water Filtration Plant, 10700 and 10701 Columbia Pike, Silver Spring, Montgomery County, MD. Library of Congress

Historic American Engineering Record. (1968). FRONT ELEVATION of high-lift pumping station. Colesville Road (also called U.S.Route 29 or Columbia Pike) is in foreground. Robert B. Morse Water Filtration Plant, 10700 and 10701 Columbia Pike, Silver Spring, Montgomery County, MD. Library of Congress

Burnt Mills Flour Mill prior to its demolition - Figure 1. (c 1928). From Beall, J.R. (1931). The history and construction of the mill at Burnt Mills, Maryland. Initiation Thesis. Records of Phi Mu Fraternity, Special Collections, University of Maryland Libraries. University of Maryland, College Park. Hosted at archive.org

Burnt Mills Flour Mill prior to its demolition - Figure 2. (c 1928). From Beall, J.R. (1931). The history and construction of the mill at Burnt Mills, Maryland. Initiation Thesis. Records of Phi Mu Fraternity, Special Collections, University of Maryland Libraries. University of Maryland, College Park. Hosted at archive.org

Historic American Engineering Record. (1968). GROUND FLOOR of high-lift pumping station. Note the main stairway and columns. Robert B. Morse Water Filtration Plant, 10700 and 10701 Columbia Pike, Silver Spring, Montgomery County, MD. Library of Congress

Historic American Engineering Record. (1968). ATTIC of high-lift pumping station showing steel framing and concrete slab roof units. Robert B. Morse Water Filtration Plant, 10700 and 10701 Columbia Pike, Silver Spring, Montgomery County, MD. Library of Congress

Historic American Engineering Record. (1968). OFFICE SPACE ON SECOND FLOOR of high-lift pumping station. Robert B. Morse Water Filtration Plant, 10700 and 10701 Columbia Pike, Silver Spring, Montgomery County, MD. Library of Congress

Historic American Engineering Record. (1968). BASEMENT of high-lift pumping station. Note steel I-beam and pump foundations. Robert B. Morse Water Filtration Plant, 10700 and 10701 Columbia Pike, Silver Spring, Montgomery County, MD. Library of Congress

National Ghost Hunting Day: The World’s Largest Ghost Hunt. (2017). Haunted Journeys

Montgomery Parks. (2016, Aug 15). SOUTHEAST ELEVATION. Burnt Mills West Special Park. Maryland-National Capital Park And Planning Commission

37 notes · View notes

branlovestowrite · 6 years

Text

The Man of Misthaven: Part 1 of 4

I can’t believe it’s finally here! I have been working on this story for a while, and it feels a little surreal to be posting it now. I must give thanks to @gingerchangeling for being my beta as well as my go-to source for all my bog questions. And of course many thanks to @hollyethecurious for creating this beautiful photo set. Go give her all the love! And finally, many hugs and thanks to @kmomof4 for creating and coordinating @cssns. This is such a fun event, and it’s been amazing to see all the great supernatural stories. Keep up the good work everyone!

And now, without further ado, I give you...

The Man of Misthaven

Summary: Storybrooke Maine is preparing for their annual fourth of July parade when they stumble upon a 300 year old body buried in Misthaven Bog, just beyond the town line. This is the first bog body discovered in the Northern US, and could put the town on the map… if only it hadn’t gone missing. Deputy Emma Swan should be focusing on the search, but she’s been a little distracted by the dark haired, blue-eyed man with amnesia she rescued the day before. Just who is this man she feels such a strong attraction to, and does he have any connection to the missing body?

Rating: T

Words: ~5,900

Also on AO3 and fanfiction.net.

Part 1

Storybrooke, Maine, Friday June 29, 2018

The morning sun was just rising when Emma Swan parked her car. She pulled her long blonde hair into a low ponytail and grabbed her travel mug of coffee. Stepping out of her car, she huddled against the slight morning chill and tugged her favorite red leather jacket closer to her body. Once she was settled, she headed toward the boardwalk that traversed Misthaven bog, just outside the city limits of Storybrooke, Maine, where Emma had lived for most of her life.

Storybrooke was the textbook definition of small town, with not much to recommend it. There was a quaint main street lined with cute shops, like every other small town in America, and a small harbor to the east, where the smell of fish from the cannery destroyed any romantic notions a passerby may have. The north and south of the town held forests with a single, two-lane highway bisecting them. To the west of town, a quarter-mile past the town line, lay a small wetland known as Misthaven bog.

Nestled just beyond the forest, the bog was not large and easy to miss if you didn’t know where to look. Clouds of mist rose over the area in the mornings, earning the warm wetland its name. The flat plain held a wide array of plant life, which in the summer included brilliant orange flowers and wild blueberries. The ground was made up of squishy peat moss, a requirement for the area to be considered a bog, and pools of water gathered in the more saturated areas. The landscape was punctuated with a few short, scrubby trees, but for the most part you could see for half a mile in all directions. The sky felt enormous there, like you were standing under a clear dome and looking up at a beautiful blue tapestry, decorated with soft balls of cotton made to look like puffy white clouds. It was one of Emma’s favorite places to go when life felt overwhelming. Quiet and unchanging, she especially loved it in the mornings, when she could come and sit on one of the benches on the boardwalk and think while she watched the birds flit in and out.

She had a lot to think about this morning. She would turn 30 this year, and although she considered herself a feminist and bristled at the idea, she couldn’t help but feel lonely and worried about her future prospects. Emma loved Storybrooke. She’d arrived in the town as a frightened eight-year old, being sent to live with an aunt and uncle she’d never knew existed. Now, 21 years later, she was part of a community. She had family, friends, and a really great kid. But her son, Henry, was 12 now. It wouldn’t be much longer before he’d be grown up and out of the house.

After the group homes and foster families Emma had experienced in her short life before Storybrooke, she’d had no idea what to expect from Ruth and Robert Nolan. Now she looked at them, Ruth in particular, as her saviors. They’d made her feel part of the family from the very beginning, incorporating her into their life with their twin boys, James and David, and their dog, Wilby. The boys were two years older than Emma, and at first James liked to torment his family's newest member. However, as they grew older he became protective of Emma and looked after her like a true little sister. David, in contrast, took to Emma right away, always looking out for her and protecting her from James in the early years.

And now David was engaged to Mary Margaret Blanchard, Emma’s best friend. She was happy for her brother and her friend. She really was. But she couldn’t help the twinge of jealousy she felt. At least James was still single, though his bachelor status was more a product of his owns deliberate actions than of circumstance. James detested small town life. He moved away from the town as soon as he could, and currently worked as a lawyer in New York. In his typical fashion, he’d ridiculed David for getting engaged. But despite his teasing, Emma knew James loved his brother and was happy for him.

As she sat and inhaled the mossy, earthy odor of the bog, Emma continued her reflections. Her friends had thrown David and Mary Margaret an impromptu engagement party the prior evening at Granny’s, the local diner and de facto gathering place. Her ex, and current boss, Graham, was there and he’d none-too-subtly hinted that he wanted to get back together with her.

“I’m happy for David and Mary Margaret. They deserve a little happiness. They’re good people.” Graham had approached her as he said these words, a seemingly innocuous opening.

“I agree,” Emma replied, trying to avoid engaging with him too much.

“You’re a good person too, Emma. When are you going to find your happiness?”

She’d forced a smile at his words. “I am happy. I’ve got a nice house, a good job, and a great kid. What more could I need?” Oh she could hit herself for leaving him that opening!

“What about love, Emma?”

“I don’t think that’s in the cards for me, Graham.”

“That I can’t agree with. You’re a beautiful, passionate woman, and you deserve to be loved.”

He’d leaned in closer during the last sentence, and if she’d wanted to, she could have closed the gap and kissed him. Most likely that was what he wanted, but it wasn’t something she desired. She’d turned away from him and stood up from her barstool. “Well, good talk, Graham. I’ll see you in the morning.” She’d escaped and stayed close to Ruth for the remainder of the night.

Despite Ruth’s knowing looks, she’d sheltered Emma from any further unwanted advances. It wasn’t that Graham was a bad guy. Quite the opposite, actually. He was a wonderful man, sweet and sensitive, and very handsome, with, a tall, strong build, soulful blue eyes and soft, light brown hair that curled adorably. Graham was a great guy, he just wasn’t the one for her. She couldn’t help herself; she liked a man with a little bit of a bad boy streak.

That was probably what had first attracted her to Henry’s father, Neal. The opposite of Graham was Neal, tanned, with shaggy brown hair and brown eyes that defined mischievous. The wayward son of one of the wealthier families in town, he’d run away as a young teenager and came back when he was 21. He was five years older than Emma, and he’d flattered her in a way none of her high school peers had. She was so charmed that she agreed to let him take her virginity in the back of the used yellow Volkswagen Beetle she’d been saving up to buy from his father. He skipped town again before she found out she was pregnant.

When his dad had realized she was knocked up, his “gift” had been to give her the car and tell her to keep the money she’d saved up to support the baby, “since she would need it.” It had been a struggle to get him to even contact Neal and let him know she was pregnant. Now, Henry only saw his father twice a year, and never spent any time with his grandfather. But Emma was lucky that Henry had two amazing uncles to help raise him, and she never felt her son had gone without.

After Neal, Emma had only dated one other time, with Graham, and that was after caving to pressure from her friends to “give the nice guy a chance.” It hadn’t worked out, and for many years she was fine with that. But last night had brought fresh feelings of loneliness, and as she sat on the bench now while the sun climbed higher, she made a wish. A simple wish.

“I wish I could find the person meant for me.”

It was silly. She felt silly. But she held it in her heart as she enjoyed the peaceful surroundings for a little longer before standing up to head into work.

Weymouth, Dorset, England, May 23, 1743

The hoofbeats sounded surprisingly quiet as they approached her cabin. She knew he’d found her, and she’d expected him to bring a contingent of guards. He always was quite the coward. To know that he’d come relatively unguarded meant one of two things. Either he’d gained more confidence in his ability to best her, or, more likely, he knew already that she was no longer a threat.

She hadn’t locked up the cabin, expecting his arrival. The door swung open and he walked in, but not alone. He’d brought one guard with him, a hulking specimen of a man. So, perhaps he did not know her secret yet. He was just too cheap to hire extra men.

His deceptively warm brown eyes took in the small space, and his upper lip rose in a sneer as he examined the sparse furnishings and dirt covered floors. “Secluding yourself in such drudgery… were you trying to throw me off the scent by burying yourself in filth?”

She chuckled and tossed her long ginger hair over her shoulder, fixing him with her own cold, blue-eyed stare. “Perhaps I just enjoy the charm. This place could be quite cozy with some work.”

He raised his chin and looked down on her as much as was possible given his shorter stature. “And yet I doubt you are willing to put in that effort. Let’s not be coy, Eloise. Why are you here? Did you really think you could hide from me?”

“On the contrary, I’ve been expecting you.”

His expression changed ever so slightly. “Ah,” he said, tilting his head, “are you ready to acquiesce to my proposal then?”

She raise her eyebrows and gave him a dismissive gesture. “Not likely. I have no intention of becoming your slave.”

“Is that so? Well then how do you expect to escape me? I will have your power. Your bloodline is a scourge that I will wipe out.”

“You are more than welcome to try and wipe out my family, but you won’t be able to do that with me.”

“What are you saying?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“I’m no longer the youngest in my bloodline.”

“That’s not possible. There can only be one descendent in every generation, which we both know is you. Now, it would be easier if you gave me your power willingly, but I do have other ways to take it.”

He shot his hand out in her direction, directing a bright stream of magic to her heart. The charge stunned her and surged through her body, but she only laughed. The energy lifted her from the ground, suspending her in midair for a moment as she continued to laugh at him. He cried out in frustration and pulled his hand back as if he’d been burned, abruptly halting the charge and dropping her to the floor.

She rose slowly to her hands and knees, her laughs becoming a cackle. “You’re too late, you monster!”

“No! How did you rid yourself of your power? Where is it?!” He raised his hand again, invisibly grasping her by the throat and choking her windpipe. Her face began to turn blue before he yanked his hand away and she collapsed to the ground once more.

“I told you,” she said between coughs and desperate breaths of air. “I am not the youngest in the bloodline.”

“How could you have had a child? There hasn’t be enough time since our last encounter.”

“Time isn’t as much of a requirement for the process when you have the magic of the golden flower to speed it along,” she huffed as she stood on shaky legs.

He froze and stared at her. “Where is the child?” he asked, his voice menacing.

“Somewhere nearby, I suppose. I didn’t bother myself too much once the process was over.”

“You fool! You would give up your immense power so flippantly?”

“A power which you say is a scourge! Yes, I would do so again a hundred times to free myself of the specter of you everywhere I go.”

“Foolish child. Tell me where your offspring is, and I’ll let you live.”

“I may not care much for my child, but I do care about thwarting you at every turn.” She reached into the pouch at her waist and extracted the last bit of magic at her disposal: a potion that would transport her hundreds of miles away in a flash. Laughing at him once more, she thrust the bottle to the ground. It smashed brilliantly, surrounding her in plumes of white smoke that quickly filled the room. When it dissipated, she was gone.

Storybrooke, present day

Emma dropped her phone as she hastily exited her car, heading toward town hall. She’d lost track of time during her morning excursion and as a result was now late for a meeting with the mayor.

“Shit shit shit,” she whispered to herself as she picked up the phone and thanked her stars that the screen wasn’t cracked. She shoved it into the pocket of her jeans and raced toward the second floor conference room where the meeting was taking place.

She stepped into the room as the mayor was mid-sentence. “Oh, Miss Swan. How nice of you to join us.”

Her face flushed and she took the only available seat, which happened to be next to Graham. “Sorry,” she said as she sat and tried to nonchalantly move the chair further away from her ex. “I had car trouble.”

“I’m sure,” the mayor said in reply, before continuing the discussion.

The meeting was a planning session for the upcoming 4th of July parade, now only a few days away. The parade was always a big event for the town, drawing visitors from other nearby municipalities. Crowd control was a big issue, which is why the mayor was currently holding a meeting with the entire Storybrooke Sheriff's Department, a team consisting of Sheriff Graham Humbert and his two deputies, David Nolan and Emma Swan. The current discussion was whether they needed to bring in additional help for the day of the parade.

After some contentious discussion where Graham insisted the team would need more support and the mayor insisted they just didn’t have it in the budget, a compromise was agreed on, where part-time support would be brought in for just before the parade started until just after it ended. The mayor would not support anything else.

Emma had a hard time paying attention during the meeting. Graham kept idly resting his hand on her arm. Halfway through the meeting, he got bolder and let his palm settle on her knee. By that point she was so on edge that she jumped at the contact. At that same moment, the lights in the room flickered, bringing the meeting to a pause and all eyes to focus on her. She blushed a deep red, though she couldn’t really understand why. Somehow she felt like the thing with the lights had been her doing, but that didn’t make any sense.

Graham continued pleading his case the entire time, not showing any discomfort. The mayor, however, took a long pause before responding, continuing to stare at Emma, as if seeing her for the first time. It was extremely disconcerting, and Emma sunk in the chair as far down as she could before finally, blessedly, the meeting continued.

By the time she got out of there, it was lunch time. David and Graham piled into one of the cruisers to visit the next town over, a half hour drive, to solicit help for the parade. Emma headed to Granny’s to grab a quick lunch before heading to the station to work on the never ending struggle that were police reports.

Thirty minutes later found Emma sighing loudly as she smelled the heady mixture of bread, butter, and melted cheese that made up her favorite meal. Her stomach grumbled in response, and she was grateful that no one was around to hear that. “I really need to get into the habit of eating more regularly,” she said aloud to no one in particular.

She picked up one of the sandwich halves and raised it to her mouth. Just as she was about to take the first heavenly bite, the phone rang.

“Damnit!” she cried in frustration, before dropping her sandwich and picking up the receiver. “Sheriff’s office,” she answered in a clipped tone.

“Emma, it’s Robin.”

She wanted to be mad at his call, but it was hard to be angry when she heard his eloquent tone. She’d always had a weakness for men with British accents. She sighed, “You’d better have a good reason for calling me now. I was just about to eat the first meal I’ve had in over twelve hours.”

“I am sorry to interrupt, but I need you to come down here. I’ll buy you another grilled cheese to make up for it.”

“How do you know I’m eating a grilled cheese?”

“What else would it be with you?”

“Fair point,” she said with a laugh. “Make it two sandwiches, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

He chuckled in reply. “Deal. See you soon.”

As soon as she hung up, she grabbed the sandwich half she’d started on and shoved it in her mouth, sad that she didn’t have a chance to appreciate the crispiness of the bread or the gooeyness of the cheese. She held the sandwich between her teeth as she stood and shrugged on her jacket.

Wiping her hands on her jeans, she slid into the squad car, driving back toward the bog. Robin worked for the Maine Department of Forestry, and oversaw the bog and the surrounding nature preserve. Parking the cruiser in the gravel lot in front of Robin’s cabin, she exited the car and followed the boardwalk until she came upon the sandy-haired, broad-shouldered figure of Robin, looming over the stockier, frightened figure of Anton, the high school science teacher, who was shaking so hard his long, brown curls were bouncing off his shoulders.

“What’s going on here?” Emma asked as she moved closer to where they stood.

“I found this one digging in the bog. Illegally digging, may I add,” Robin said through clenched teeth.

“Anton, come on,” Emma chided. “You know this area is protected. I really don’t want to arrest you.”

Anton shrugged and held up his hands. “I just wanted to get a few samples so I could talk to my students about the ecology of the bog.”

Emma reached for the handcuffs holstered on her belt. “Well, it’s still against the law to dig up a protected area. I have to take you in, at least for a while.”

“Wait,” Robin said as he reached out and stopped her. “I didn’t call you here to arrest him, Emma.”

“No? Then why am I here?”

“Anton… he found something. We think it’s a body.” Robin turned and stepped over the low rail and motioned for her to follow. “Stay with me and only step where I step. I don’t want you sinking in.”

Emma followed him warily. She’d been to the bog multiple times, but had never set foot anywhere other than the designated walkway. As she stepped on the surface, she was surprised to find how springy it was. It was a little like stepping on a trampoline. She had to bite back a giggle as she got her footing.

Robin waited for her to get her bearings before he turned and walked along a narrow path that seemed firmer than the rest. When they’d walked about 5 yards, he stopped and turned to her. “Come stand right here. I’m going to step down to the water.”

Emma did as he instructed and watched as he traversed an especially spongy patch that led down to a small pool. He removed a pen from his shirt pocket and bent over. As he did, he pointed the pen to what she at first thought was a small pile of mud. However, when she looked closer, she saw that it was a human hand, balled into a fist.

“Shit…” she muttered under her breath. She met Robin’s eyes as he stood up. “Any idea who it could be?”

“I would think I should be the one asking that question, seeing as how you are the deputy. But this is also a small town and I think we all would have heard if someone was missing.”

“Could it be from another town?”

“Maybe, although that seems a long drive to dump a body. And considering how far into the bog we are, I would have noticed had someone tried to drag a body out here.”

“Might be the perfect cover up, though,” she said, reaching for the radio at her shoulder. “I need to call this in. We’re gonna have to remove it and take it to be examined.”

Robin heaved a long sigh. “I was afraid you would say that.”

Two hours later Emma stood in the hospital morgue with her brother and Graham. Two volunteer firefighters had extracted the body from the bog, under Robin’s careful supervision. She looked over the body laid out before them, still wearing shoes and leather trousers. She’d learned about bog bodies in high school, and was fascinated now, seeing one up close. Other than the dark tanning of his skin, he looked like he might open his eyes at any minute. He still had facial hair peppering his cheeks and chin.

“What are we looking at?” Graham asked Dr. Jefferson Milliner, or ‘Jeff’ as he preferred to be called, head of the morgue. “Is this a recent victim?”

“I don’t believe so,” the doctor replied. “Look at his clothing. These pants are hand stitched. He’s been in the bog for a long time.”

“But he’s not all… deflated like those pictures they showed us in school,” Emma said.

“Those bodies were in the bogs for much longer than him, and in different conditions,” Jeff said with a chuckle. “I think this one’s bone structure is still intact, although it’s likely weakened.”

“What happened to his hand?” Graham asked.

Emma looked down and noticed for the first time that the corpse’s left hand was missing.

“The flesh looks pretty mangled, but it was probably separated after his death,” Jeff replied. “The weight of a bog has been known to cause posthumous injuries to bodies buried in them. I’ll need to do some further analysis to be sure, however.”

“How old do you think it is?” David inquired.

“Hmm… maybe 200 or 300 years old? I’m not an expert, but he looks like a colonist. We really need to get an expert in here to look at him. I have a contact in Boston I can call.”

“Yes, doctor, that would be helpful. Thank you.” Graham said.

The others filed out of the room, but Emma stood a bit longer, staring at the body stretched out on the table. There was something about him, but she couldn’t figure out what it was. She couldn’t shake the thought that she had just been to the bog that morning, and there had been no sign of him. The pool where he was found was not far from where she’d been sitting. How had she not seen him? Where did he come from? She couldn’t figure it out, and she stayed there staring at him until David came back down the stairs to retrieve his sister.

Misthaven Bog, June 30th, 1755

The smell of decay filled her nostrils and made her sick to her stomach. She wanted nothing more than to run far away from this place. The landscape was eerie, with sparse vegetation punctuated by steaming pools of water. The ground felt unstable, as if she were walking on a blanket spread over a pond. The water here was stagnant and dead, nothing like the sea her Papa had taught her to love.

“Do you know what the ancients thought about bogs?” The cruel voice disrupted her thoughts and brought her attention back to her captor. He stood before her, while two large men held her Papa behind him. He sounded like the mean school mistress she’d had for a short time when she and Papa first settled in America. When they thought they had escaped this evil man’s clutches. When they thought they could have a normal life.

She stared owl-eyed at the man she’d been in fear of for the last three years of her life. He was shorter than she’d remembered him being. She’d always thought of him as a looming figure, but she now saw he was barely taller than Papa’s shoulder. However, every other aspect of him fit her nightmarish memories. He had the same leathery skin and wavy hair hanging down to his shoulders that she remembered. His eyes were cold and seemed to bore into her very soul. And his voice was like a snake, slithering through her ears and invading her thoughts.

He looked down at her now and sneered. “I asked you a question, little girl,” he hissed with his snake tongue.

“No?” she replied, her fear stopping her from saying anything more.

“The ancients,” he responded condescendingly, “thought bogs were the gateway to the underworld. They used to leave offerings to the gods: jewels, books, food, and even,” he paused and turned his head to look at Papa, “human sacrifices.”

She felt her tears begin to flow freely at his words. “Please, sir,” she begged, “don’t kill my Papa. He’s all I have!” Her voice was hoarse, but she continued her pleading.

“Your Papa brought this upon himself, child, when he ran from me! He knew what I was after, and he knew I would stop at nothing to get it. Had he listened to me years ago, we could have avoided this whole mess.”

Despite being beaten and restrained, Papa growled at his words. “I would never have let you take her, you bloody demon!”

The man turned to Papa again. “And yet here we are! All this fuss and I am still victorious.”

“You may take my life, but this isn’t over! You will be stopped. I have faith in my daughter.”

“She’s just a child!” the man scoffed. “You stubborn imbecile. This is over. You will die, and I will take your daughter’s power and rid the world of the scourge that is the Gothel bloodline once and for all.”

“You bastard! You have no care for the world! You only wish to take her power. You can try to use her, but you will never be successful. She’s too strong for you!”

“I’m tired of this.” The evil man lifted his gaze to the larger of the two men holding Papa. “Kill him.”

“No!” she cried out, but it was too late. She screamed as a dagger was plunged into Papa’s abdomen over and over, until his torso was covered in blood and his head hung limply on his chest. “No no no no no!” she cried as her tears poured down her face. “Papa…” she sniffled and wiped her eyes, though it did nothing to stem the tide. She refused to accept that he was gone; that this was the last she would see of him. “Papa, I promise you,” she said, biting her lip to stop its quivering, “I will find a way. We will be together again.”

“I think not, dearie,” the evil man said. He pulled a length of rope from his belt and threw it to his henchmen. “Bury him in the bog, tie him down. Drive stakes through his body if you have to. Just make sure he isn’t found.” He turned to his captive and roughly grabbed her arm. “You’re coming with me.” He began walking and pulled to make her follow, but she dug in her heels.

She could feel it coursing through her. This place was alive. There was something otherworldly around them, and it didn’t like what had just happened. It mixed and mingled with the magic that flowed through her veins. It was speaking to her. Calling out. Promising something. Not vengeance. Retribution. Justice. Reconciliation. She nodded her head in response. Whatever was there, it would make sure she could keep her promise to her Papa. She just had to be patient. And, fortunately, Alice Jones was a very patient girl.

Storybrooke, Saturday, June 30, 2018

The next day was Emma’s day off. She was looking forward to spending some time with her son. Henry was 12 now, and seemed less and less interested in hanging out with his mom. But she had mentioned the bog body the previous night, and he was very eager to see it. Emma decided to bring him by to hospital, just for a peek. If she couldn’t use her cop status to impress her pre-teen son, what good was it for?

She and Henry parked outside the small hospital and walked in. They took the stairs down to the entrance to the morgue, where they met with David. His sandy blonde hair was mussed, like he’d been nervously rubbing it.

“Emma,” he asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Mom’s gonna show me the body!” Henry said excitedly.

“Is she now?” David asked, crossing his arms over his chest and narrowing his blue-eyed gaze to glare at his sister.

“Come on Dave,” Emma pleaded, trying her best to meet his steely gaze with her own green-eyed, puppy dog look.. “We probably won’t have much access to this guy once the experts sweep in and take him back to their lab for research.”

“As it is, we don’t have an access to him now.”

“What?” Emma furrowed her brow. “Why not?”

“He’s gone.”

“Gone? What do you mean he’s gone? Did they already come and get him?”

“No. Jeff took some scans and pictures of him yesterday, then locked the place up. When he came back this morning, the body was gone.”

“That sounds fishy. It’s not like a 300 year old body can just wake up and walk away.”

“You’re telling me. It’s the weirdest thing.”

“What are we gonna do?”

“Graham and I are going to keep interviewing the staff and looking for evidence. You get to go home, since it’s your day off. I’m sure there will still be plenty to do tomorrow.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Okay dad.” David was forever driving her crazy with his paternal instincts. She turned to Henry. “What do you say to a stop at Granny’s, kid?”

Henry looked at his mom, his brown eyes wary. “Actually, mom, Avery’s dad has been letting me help on the parade float he’s building. If we can’t see the body, can you take me to his house so I can help finish it up?”

“Really? I was hoping we could have some bonding time.”

Henry gave her a sheepish smile and pushed his brown hair back from his face. “Later this week, after the parade? This is our last chance to finish up the float.”

“Fine.” She swatted her son lightly on the back. “Let’s go.”

“Bye Uncle David,” Henry said as he turned to walk away.

“See you later kid,” David replied. “And don’t tell anyone about this. Last thing I need is the mayor breathing down my neck about it.”

“You got it,” Henry said.

“I’m serious!” David yelled after them, but Emma and Henry just smirked as they left the hospital.

After dropping Henry off at Avery’s, Emma decided to take the scenic route home, enjoying the beautiful Saturday she suddenly had all to herself. She was so lost in thought about what to do that she almost didn’t see the man walking along the side of the forest road. A naked man walking along the side of the forest road. She slowed down and pulled over just ahead of him. He stopped walking and stared quizzically at her car.

She watched him in the rearview mirror for a moment before exiting her Bug. He was not anyone she recognized. Maybe he was one of the new cannery employees, and had a bit too much to drink the night before? She took a deep breath and stepped out, turning to face him.

Her first thought, after facing him head on, was how attractive he was. He was a beautiful man, with hard, lean muscle under a layer of dark body hair. The hair on his head was a little shaggy, but fell in his face, making him look younger than he probably was. As she got closer, she saw his jaw was covered in scruff that was too short to be called a beard. And to top everything off, he looked at her with the most beautiful, piercing, cobalt-blue eyes she’d ever seen.

She stopped about ten feet away from him. Her left hand slid around her back and touched the handcuffs still holstered to her belt. “Are you okay?” she called out, watching him carefully for any erratic movements.

Surprisingly, he flashed an adorably dimpled smile at her, the crows’ feet at his eyes crinkling merrily. Yes, she thought to herself, he is definitely drunk. She tried again, “Where are your clothes, buddy?”

He looked down at himself and then back at her, a blush creeping up his cheeks and reddening the tips of his ears. “Apologies, miss. I could not find my garments when I awoke.”

She suppressed a groan. Of course he had to be British, because he wasn’t already attractive enough. “And where did you wake up? Did your friends play a trick on you? A little hazing for the new guy?”

He furrowed his brow. “Sorry. I don’t really know where I woke up. I didn’t recognize it. Truthfully, I don’t recognize much of anything.”

Emma relaxed her stance. He either drank so hard he blacked out, or he hit his head and was suffering from amnesia. Either way, she pitied him. “What’s your name?”

“I can’t recall.”

“Okay… so what do you remember?”

He gave her an apologetic smile. “Not much, I’m afraid.”

Emma looked at him for a moment as she tried to figure out her next move. She pointed to him. “Wait right there.” She walked around the front of her Bug and opened the trunk, fishing out a blanket she kept there. Moving back toward the stranger, she handed him the blanket, which he took gratefully and draped over his shoulders. She noticed, for the first time during this exchange, that he was missing his left hand. The mangled flesh at the end of his arm was heavily scarred, but the wound looked old.

“Thank you, milady.”

“Come on,” she said, gesturing toward her car with her head. “I’ll take you to the hospital. You need to be checked out.”

He followed her without protest. When they reached the car, he looked up wide-eyed. “This is a marvelous carriage. How does it operate without horses?”

“Huh?” Emma asked. She leaned around him and opened the door. “Can you sit down?”

He stared blankly for a moment, but acquiesced and settled into the seat without trouble. Emma walked around the car and got back in the driver’s seat. She saw he wasn’t buckled in, but decided to spare herself the headache of trying to explain seat belts to him. Instead she started the engine and made a u-turn, heading back to the hospital.

To be continued in part 2! Updates weekly.

If you want to learn more about bog bodies, I’d recommend the stories by National Geographic and the Dublin Museum. It’s a truly fascinating process! Search for “Tollund Man” and look at the some the pictures. The way these bodies are preserved is incredible!

Tagging some friends and fellow CSSNS participants. Let me know if you want to be on the tag list for future updates:

@artistic-writer @bleebug @cat-sophia @courtorderedcake @distant-rose @flipperbrain @flslp87 @huffleporg @initiala @kymbersmith-90 @killian-whump @laschatzi @lassluna @lillpon @resident-of-storybrooke @rouhn @sherlockianwhovian @searchingwardrobes @shireness-says @snidgetsafan @teamhook @winterbythesea @winterbaby89 @wingedlioness @wyntereyez

#cs ff #cssns #cssupernaturalsummer #emma swan #killian jones #alice jones #bog bodies #the man of misthaven

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