The Way I See It: Dubious nature of journalism

There’s a whole lot of finger pointing as of late, from both sides of the circus that is media. Liberals accusing conservatives and conservatives name calling (let’s call a rose a rose here). Long gone are the days of actual reporting. You know the kind. The kind of reporting that just gives me the facts from both sides of an issue and lets me the reader/viewer form my own opinion. No no, now we have to have opinion in my newscasts. Really, I couldn’t give a crap.

The Internet has blessed us and cursed us in this day and age. Legitimate sites that are created to report news (even the crappy entertainment sites which have no bearing on the real world because I really don’t care what Linday Lohan is doing or not doing this week) are competing with sites that have a good name, but don’t really report anything, but manage to opine their way through so called articles of news.

One of these happens to be canadafreepress.com. I went there because my fast typing fingers and my ever quick punch of the enter key missed the part where I wanted Canadian Free Press, one of many national news agencies that distributes news to radio, television and newspaper outlets. Canad Free Press does all it can to wave the maple leaf, but really, it’s an American Right Wing Editorial machine. The top heading, or slogan reads “Without America there would be no free world.” Really? Let’s be honest here, most Canadians don’t think that way. We like our neighbours to the south, but we wish they’d be a little quieter and stop having temper tantrums. We’re moving along just fine, thank you, without the American Editorial propaganda machine marching along to try and suck us in.

Yeah, we’ve got conservatives up here, but to be perfectly honest, our staunchest right winger is more socialist than anything that comes out of the States. We think differently than a great deal of Americans. We have very different values.

And we report news. Actual news. Not rehashed editorial opinion crap.

canadafreepress.com, you’d have done a lot better had you used a dot.ca name instead of a dot.com name. Then, I think I might have taken the whole thing a lot more seriously. Add to it that out of the several articles I skipped through (because I just went direct to the author bio after a while), only one was from Canada. The other tip off was the fact that out of the whole nation, Toronto was the only city mentioned. Now, unless this site was from Toronto, then I would expect this, as Toronto feels it’s the center f the universe. But not even an article from Quebec. Sorry, you lose again. Canada has two official languages, and I am proud to say they are French and English. REAL Canadian news sites would have the option of a French language link. REAL Canadian news sites would not so blatantly alienate our Francophone brothers and sisters. Unless of course, it’s written by members of the extreme right wing that would love to get rid of French completely.

I think that sites like this even make American news agencies look bad. Among the “sister sites” listed happen to be a few from other countries. I’m talking Asian countries.

I admit, I do love opinion and debate as much as news. But for sites like canadafreepress.com, please, show some integrity and stop hiding an American ideal behind a Canadian flag. You only make yourself look foolish and do a disservice to American journalists.

History is made… again

Two weeks ago, the Saskatchewan Roughriders made history.  For the first time in 33 years, the Riders ended the season in first place, and would host the Western Final with a berth to the Grey Cup on the line.  In one week, it will be a first.  The first time the Riders meet the Montreal Alouettes in the Grey Cup.  This is also the first time since the late 1960’s that the Riders have gone back to their second Grey Cup in less than 18 years.

I’ve been fortunate to be alive for many of the Grey Cup appearances by the Riders.  In 1972 the Riders lost 13-10 to the Hamilton Tiger-cats.  In 1976, it has now become famous how Tony Gabriel caught the winning touchdown to beat the Western Riders 23-20.  After that game came the lean times for the Riders.  They wouldn’t see the playoffs again until 1988, and wouldn’t get a shot at the Grey Cup until 1989.  Personally, I don’t remember those games because I was 2 and 6 respectively.  I think during the 1976 Grey Cup, I was more interested in snow angels than football.

I didn’t start really following the Riders until 1982.  I remember getting a copy of the book Rider Pride that had all the history of the Riders from 1909 to 1983.  That faithfulness never left me, as I became die hard during my teen years.

In 1989, Kent Austin lead the Riders to a 9-9 finish and went on to beat the Ti-cats 43-40 in what has become one of the most thrilling Grey Cups of the last few years of the 20th Century.  I was in The Pas, Manitoba at the time, and watched the game on a crappy TV.

In 1997, when I was working in a news room in Prince Albert, Saskatchewan, the Riders went back to the Grey Cup, posting an 8-10 record, and showing they could win when it counted, but couldn’t as they dropped a 47-23 loss to the Toronto Argonauts.  The Argos that year were lead by future Hall of Famer Doug Flutie.  I watched the game from the news room, had a weekend to work, and reported news on the hour.

The years became lean again, and a major turn around wouldn’t be seen until 2007.  After years of 9-9 records, the Riders brought in head coach Kent Austin.  Austin, a rookie head coach, developed a system that the Riders took to quickly.  They posted a 12-6 record, and went on to defeat the Winnipeg Blue Bombers, taking home their third Grey Cup ever.  I had been in Outlook, the place where I grew up for three years.  The same place I am today.

1966, Ron Lancaster lead the Riders to the promise land with the legs of George Reed and the catching hands of Hugh Campbell.

1989, Kent Austin had Ray Elgaard, Don Narcis, and Jeff Fairholm as targets, Tim McCray on the ground and the kicking game of Dave Ridgeway and Terry Baker.

2007, Kerry Joseph picked up the reins and hit targets like DJ Flick, Andy Fantuz and Matt Dominguez.  Fittingly, the win came at the Roger’s Centre, formerly the Skydome, where the Riders won the Grey Cup in 1989.

2009?  This year the Riders are sure to be underdogs to a tough Montreal squad.  Stingy on defense and punishing on offense, as the smallest mistake given, the Als will take advantage of it.  But the Riders have Darian Durant at the helm, with targets like Andy Fantuz, Chris Getzlaf, Jason Clermont, Gerran Walker, and Rob Bagg.  On the ground, there’s Stu Foord, Wes Cates and Chris Szarka. Jeremy O’Day and Gene Makowsky lead the O Line.  On defense, the likes of John Chick and Stevie Baggs will put pressure on the Als offense.  In the secondary, Eddie Davis leads a good group.

Let’s see what happens in a week from today.  Ridernation will be roaring.

Winner take all

A tough CFL season comes to a head today.  The Stamps travel to Mosaic Stadium to take on the Riders, with the winner advancing to the Grey Cup in Calgary.  Down east, BC is going to try to be the first crossover team to advance to the Grey Cup as they play in Montreal.

Tensions are high.  For the Lions, they’ve proved they can win, and proved they’re a better team than what their record says.  Montreal is the best in the league with a 15-3 record.  Calgary and Saskatchewan have fought hard throughout the year, and now to prove who’s best it comes down to this.  In both games, the crowd is going to be a factor.  Over 50,000 are expected in The Big O in Montreal.  Over 30,000 in Regina.  And the latter will sound like 60,000 in a domed stadium.

By 7:00 tonight, we’ll know who meets in the Grey Cup.

A Voice Unheared

It’s been such a long time since I’ve posted anything that I almost feel guilty. Almost.

It’s been very busy for me with prepping for my son’s birthday party, now the holidays. Balancing game time with my new friends and old ones, as well slotting in time to actually make money by working.

So much has happened over the past few weeks that I’ve been sort of out of it. So much so that I have been a horrible friend, less than dedicated player and an even worse worker.

I think right now that I’ve got it all sorted out in cracking down. I’ve one more issue to jump over and if I survive this then I’m sure I will be just fine.

You see the other day I had a thought collision in the most epic sort of way. I was thinking one thing and blurted something else out. The result was I was sent home early, but this was a bad enough comment that it could affect my job. So we shall see when I go back in tomorrow.

Now that the party is over and done with, and I only need to worry about party, I’m much calmer and slowly coming to terms with the fact I may not be able to do this without a helping hand.

However I am trying first, to see if i tread water just enough to keep from sinking. I do know when I need to reach for help that there will be more than enough people to help pull me out.

With that being said. I’d like to share with you what I have been writing. I do hope you enjoy it.

Until It’s Too Late

The Sanctuary was quiet except for the whirring and whizzing of the machines and other technologies that filled the massive structure. The soft click of a woman’s boots tapped against the flooring softly as she made her way through the halls of the still new base. She was still learning her way around and jokingly thought they should invest in map kiosk like those at a mall.

The defenses of the base were of no danger to her. Deactivating once they recognized the coding that was laced inside her small Codex Cross. They wouldn’t notice. No one would. Not until it was too late. Even the woman wouldn’t know.

“Good evening, Grey Kestrel,” a smooth robotic voice called out. “Did all go well with the soul crystals?”

“Hello GENI,” Kestrel replied in a confident voice. “Could you assist me in some paperwork for CSIS please?”

Kestrel wanted to avoid the topic of their narrow escape from the swarm of demons that appeared when they discovered the last crystal’s box. Nine out of ten were in a secure location, for the moment. Or at least until Azuria became clumsy again. The mission had been a failure, everyone had been disappointed by it, some even angered.

This included a Valkyrie named Avalona who Kestrel had to talk down from storming back in to finish them off. Avalona, now spent her evening house sitting; playing hide and seek with the snipers that had found her location out quicker than normal. The plan was simple; instead of stealth attacks to protect the apartment, why not instill fear in enemies. And nothing spoke fear louder than a seven foot tall elven Valkyrie

“Will you be uploading to the mainframe?” GENI replied waiting instruction.

“Yes,” she replied.

Niaomi made her way to the comforting surrounding of the lounge. It was thankfully empty for the moment. She smiled faintly and produced a small laptop and placed on the counter. After plugging it in and powering up, she moved behind the fully stocked bar to the coffee maker. Eying the pot, she grimaced wondering just how long it was sitting for.

“It’s fresh, Lieutenant Running Cloud,” GENI called out. “I just made it moments before you walked in. Is it going to be a long work night?”

“I think so. Thank you GENI,” Niaomi replied, pouring herself a cup. Two creams and two sugars later, she leaned on the counter scrolling through her files.

Niaomi stopped at the one titled BATTLE SUIT DATA RETRIEVAL. Carefully, she opened a small port on her wrist gauntlet and removed the tiny disc within, she then replaced that disc within the laptop. As the reports uploaded, her eyes grew wide.

“This can’t be right,” she said out loud. “This– Baz is going to have a field day over this. GENI please send this to Baz immediately. Priority high.”

“Very well,” the intelligence unit stated “Done.”

While Niaomi’s fingers flew over the keys of her laptop, her comm crackled and a slew of swear words momentarily deafened her. Fyrewalker Montrenne had made her presence and dislike for the circle of thorn that much more known.

“My sentiments exactly,” She replied over the comm with a slightly chuckle. “Allison King can kiss my Native American ass, after that flop.”

“And a damn nice one it is, too. So. Whose ass are we kicking in the interim” Fyre replied jovially.

“Been flashing that ass around an awful lot lately, no?” Another voice chimed in.

“I don’t know yet Fyre,” Niaomi replied, choosing to ignore the playful banter from Mercy.

“Well give me your GPS anyway,” Fyre said, “And wait ’til you hear what Niaomi has planned for your frontage, Mercy.”

“Dead horse,” Kestrel replied. The last thing she wanted to do right now was rag on Mercy about her breasts again.

“But you said it!” Fyre kept going. “Something about crystals, as I recall. Glitter? Ring a bell?”

“Yeah something about beating the shit out of DE enough to make you some glitter for your boobs Merce,” Kestrel replied with snort of a laugh. Her fingers still flew over the keyboard of her lap top.

“Glitter?You must have me confused with Crysta,” Mercy said in her usual sarcastic manner.

It was doubly sarcastic as Mercy entered the base. Niaomi noted that her top looked much more secure than the night previously, but said nothing as she went back to looking the screen. It was only a moment later that Fyre walked in. The banter started and Niaomi shook her head at some of the retorts that were made.

“GENI upload this to CSIS file 93278,” Niaomi said.

Even though she wasn’t feeling it, Niaomi made a weak attempt to tell Mercy that boys would be the only ones interested in. The joke fell through, and Kestrel once again studied the screen.

So much for paper work getting done. She sighed as she told GENI to upload the last file. The banter around her was becoming to distracting. It was clear more people were going to show up, not that she minded. If she wanted silence, she should have went home. Niaomi opened the suit file again as she listened to Mercy tell Shizaru where they were at. He might be interested in this.

“We’re in the lounge, looking at Facespace or some shit,” Mercy commented over the comm. To who, Kestrel didn’t know.

The warping noise of Shizaru teleporting made her look over her glasses to where he stood, leaning against the wall.

“Shiz!” Mercy said with a cheerful grin. “What up, Squid?”

“Hey Mercy,” he replied back to her just as cheerfully.

“Thank you for saving my ass in those caves,” Niaomi said as she looked over the top of her glasses to Shizaru.

“It’s no big deal,” the Warshade told her modestly. “You would have gotten out with or without my help.”

“ I think I might’ve stayed in there just to avoid the Void who kept blowing holes into my suit,” she said with a faint chuckle.

Twice she had to be ported back by him after a Void went after her. Twice she ended up in a crystal cell. The first time, he worked on one side and she the other until the crystal door shattered. The memory was still quite fresh in her mind and the oddities that were affecting her suit gave her a cause for alarm, but also aroused a decent amount of curiosity.

“What the–?” Niaomi said staring at her screen.

The ratings were off the chart, she didn’t understand what was going on. Her laptop beeped, letting her know that it had finished uploading the stats from the disc. Popping it out she placed it back into her wrist gauntlet. She turned the screen so that Shizaru could see it, hoping that maybe he could translate what exactly she was looking at. The way she read it, the plasma from the Void’s rifle was eating away at the liqavar.

“Jeez, what’s making it do that?” He asked her.

“Whatever the shit is that they shoot,” she explained. “Essentially making me just as vulnerable as you.”

By this time, Niaomi noted the new presence in the lounge. Had she been listening to her comm, she would have known he was coming, along with a stack of books. She didn’t say much to him as she continued looking over the screen.

“It seems liqavar and void goo don’t mix,” she stated.

“Liqavar?” Shizaru asked.

“’Void goo’” Mercy commented with a chuckle.

“It’s the material that my suit is made of,” Niaomi explained, not taking her eyes off the screen. “It’s literally liquid Kevlar.”

Mercy had returned to her conversation about books with the new comer. Niaomi just then realized that Fyre had wondered off. Fyre was an enigma to Kestrel, spilling most of her life story in a matter of minutes to she and Max. Niaomi didn’t feel pity for Fyre, though she did feel rather motherly towards the girl. She saw a lot of good in Fyre’s eyes, it was just buried deep under the history of her past. With a little work, Niaomi might be able to assist her even further.

She had learned while standing there, that the newcomer’s name was Zen and that he was currently researching something in the vast pile of books that surrounded him. The comm had crackled to life again; this time it was Westford.

“GENI, see if you can reverse the effects of the Void plasma,” Niaomi said calmly.

Watching the screen of her laptop she noted the fusion between the plasma and the liqavar. The possibilities of it making a new substance that was stronger and sturdier than just the liqavar alone set the gears into motion.

“Ah ha!” Niaomi exclaimed, popping the disc out of the laptop. She replaced it back in the gauntlet and took off to the teleport bay.

What do you do

This past week has seen some interesting soul searching, I guess you might say.  For the past couple of years, I’ve had something that has helped bring about excitement, interest, fascination and a drive to produce like I’ve never felt before.  Lately, however, that drive has been on a bit of a downturn.

What do you do, when confronted with a choice?  Well, you make the best of the situation and move on, hoping that quite possibly that you’ll find it in yourself to find that spark once again.  It’s something that does happen from time to time.  For me, it’s especially bad at this time of year.  Longer nights, shorter days, less sun light.  Usually there is the cold that comes along with it.  I’m of course speaking of the weather.  It’s especially hard for me this time of year.

I have SADs.  Seasonal Affective Disorder.

SADs is a type of depression that occurs when (typically) summer gives way into fall and winter.  I have a rather mild version of it, but there are those that suffer a great deal more than I do.  It should also be noted that not everyone who suffers from SADs does so during the winter months.  It can affect those during the summer months as well.  Most often, however, it is associated with winter.  For me, it is the winter months that hits me hardest.  I like summer, I like sitting out on my balcony and watching the sun rise as I have my morning coffee at five in the morning.  At this time of year, it’s still pitch black out (aside from the street lamps and adjoining apartment buildings).

Personally, when this time of year comes around, I find it harder and harder to get out of bed.  Waking up is almost like a chore.  In the evenings, there’s a feeling of loss when looking at the clock and seeing the time read 6:30 and it’s already dark out.  Much like today.  And it’ll only get worse as we get closer and closer to December 21, which happens to be the shortest day of the year.

How can you go about and make sure that it doesn’t affect you incredibly badly?  There’s a lot of things that you can do.  First off, I have a UV lamp.  The added vitamins that I get while sitting under the lamp help out a great deal.  Still, it’s not enough just to sit there and bask in the glow of a lamp.  There’s other very important things which can be done.  Sometimes, I end up pushing myself into my work at the print shop.  That can be a bit unhealthy, possibly, but it does help.  It keeps me focused and keeps me going.  To help out with that, after we’ve had some shuffling at work, I took the liberty to move into a new work environment.  You may have read about that earlier.  The new office I have has a window, and while it only looks out into the front reception area, it still manages to get a large amount of natural light inside.  Another important thing to keep a very close eye on is diet.  More than any other time of year, I have to be very conscious of what I eat.  I can’t pig out on junk food like I sometimes do in the summer.  Watching diet also helps build up the immune system as typically fall and winter is the time of year when most people come down with the flu.

Those are direct things that I can control.  Other outside influences you have to be very careful with, because they can affect your overall routine.  This doesn’t mean that I’m suggesting crawling under a rock and hiding until spring.  That won’t help at all.  If anything, it only makes it worse.  Things will change all the time, and we have to be prepared for it.  Unfortunately, we can’t live in a comfortable rut.  Sometimes it would be nice, because while some people love the excitement of change, others have a difficult time with it.  They like their comfortable rut.  Any change to it is seen as an assault (at worst) on what they’ve grown used to.

What do you do in that situation?

Well, to be honest, I can’t really come up with any suggestions.  I’ve gone through it in the past, and I have had it happen recently.  It’s something that sets your mind racing and fills you with worry and doubt.  What comes off as once exciting becomes dreadful and old.  Or worse, down right frightening.

I’m pretty sure I’ll survive this current winter.  I’ve seen 39 winters before it, and I’m certain that I’ll manage to survive another, no matter the outcome.  I just hope that the excitement of my work continues to fill me up.

Until next time…

…keep ‘em flyin’.

Sask Books: Richardson’s Ramblings

“Richardson’s Ramblings”

by E. George Richardson

Published by Your Nickel’s Worth Publishing

review by Sharon Adam

$16.95

ISBN978-1-894431-12-5

This slim volume is a compendium of poetry, essays, editorials and reflections gathered from Mr. Richardson’s life. A native of Pelly, Saskatchewan, Richardson’s book covers his writing over the past 60 years and is comprised of topics that held significance to his life and imagination.

We learn that a young George lied about his age and joined the armed forces in an effort to follow his two brothers into combat during the Second World War. He was restricted to Canada because he was blind in one eye, the result of a childhood accident. He began writing about his experiences during this time and continued throughout his life. Imagination was also a source for his writing and we are invited to share his whimsy on such subjects as life’s journey, winning the lottery and what if?

His ramblings are diverse and include thoughts on such subjects as the Calgary Flames, politics, and the British Royal Family. Readers discover his passion for friendship and family as he explores his emotions through poetry and essay. George reveals his personality to his readers through his honesty and fearless approach to his subjects. This reflection of a lifestyle and a remembrance of George’s past is a pleasant reminder of our own past and perhaps mirrors some of our own recollections of what was.

This is a good book to pick up and read bits and pieces or straight through. This book is available at your local bookstore, or visit www.skbooks.com.

Black Mask & Pale Rider: Part Thirty-three

It is just a simple gun fight, but it could turn out to be oh so ominous.

Black Mask & Pale Rider: Part Thirty-Three

Long Train Comin’: Part Three

“If ye dunna mind me sayin’ so,” Pania mentioned with a smile as she looked Carter Stewart directly in the eyes. “Ye’ve a very liberal view. Rather refreshin’ ta see a man o’ the cloth tha’ dunna condemn those tha’re diff’rent.”

“Well,” Carter began with a small smile of thanks and a chuckle. “As the good book teaches judge not lest ye be judged.” His smile remained but his words became rather somber and serious. “I believe that the words of the Bible are words not only to read but those ta live by.”

“So why the gun?” Pania asked as she motioned to the gun belt that hung on Carter’s hip.

He looked down and removed his hand from the belt, an involuntary action that he had grown so used to. “An old relic from a time long gone. I used ta be a gun fighter, a mercenary for hire that would track down those who would willingly take lives. But I began to realize that the more I worked, the more I became just like those outlaws. So much blood and death.”

“So why keep it?” she asked in a voice that was almost a whisper, her words more curious than uplifting like her usual attitude.

Carter managed a smile as he looked to Pania. “Ta toss it aside is ta forget that time. I can’t forget it, it was a part of my life for so long. I don’t keep it as a trophy like some would think, but I keep it as a reminder of man’s tools and how they can be used to cause pain and death.”

“Well ‘en, if ye dunna mind me sayin’ tha’s quite admirable,” Pania said with a nod and a smile. Her features changed dramatically as she heard a shot ring out. Carter Stewart heard it too, looking toward the entrance to their cabin with a furrowed brow. Pania sighed slightly as her shoulders sunk. “I bloody ‘ope tha’ Shani’s no’ in some kinda trouble,” she said as she rose to her feet. Carter also rose, but he sensed something different than just the wild heart of an elven gunslinger.

*****

Shani fired as two vampires lunged at her, slowing them only a little. She cursed as her eyes searched for some other weapon to use, and hoping for an opening that would give her a brief moment to load silver bullets into her twin Colts. There were fifteen in the passenger car, which brought up several red flags; how did they get on the train, who was responsible for this, and how quickly could she dispatch them before they overwhelmed her.

Those questions left as she heard the first click from her pistols. Empty. “Crap on a stick!” she shouted out, readying each gun to use as a club if necessary. The vampires took note of her predicament and smiled with glee. There was nowhere for her to run now.

Just as Shani believed the end was in sight, one of the vampires burst into flame. Not from sunlight, as the windows had still been boarded up. She heard the incantation and smiled as she knew what it was, and then saw Pania at the other end of the passenger car, slinging small flares of fire at the vampires. Behind Pania stood the imposing figure of Carter Stewart. His gun remained in it’s holster, but in his right hand he held his Bible. This was when both elves witnessed a miracle they had never before seen since their arrival on Earth.

“Ye though I walk through valley of the shadow of death,” Carter’s voice rang out bold as he held the book high. “I shall fear no evil!” It was working. As the gunslinger turned reverend spoke the passage, the vampires doubled over in pain, eventually withering away into nothing as all they could do was scream in pain as the words were spoken.

Shani pushed one of the vampires away as it’s body began to decay quickly, the elven gunslinger moving quickly to stand with Pania and Carter. Both elves knew what was happening, they’d seen it before on Terra-Kal, but never here on Earth. As the last of the vampires began to cease all movement and sound, Pania looked to Carter.

“Ye said tha’ ye’ve no’ killed anyone in a few years,” Pania stated with some sense of awe and wonder in her voice. “I’d suspect tha’ it’s been a lot longer ‘n tha’. An’ I’d go so far as ta say the las’ time ye drew yer gun, it werena ‘gainst ‘umans.”

Carter sighed openly as he placed the book back into his coat pocket. Shani looked over the man again with a new respect. This wasn’t just some reverend who spouted rhetoric from the pulpit in fire and brimstone. She finally began to recognize the things he wore, that they held a great deal more meaning than what people might expect.

“Yer a paladin,” Shani stated with a nod. “Ain’t ya? A holy knight, born ta take on the likes o’ these.”

Carter considered Shani’s words for a moment before speaking. “I suppose a knight might be a close description. An’ born ta it, I doubt that. But I do seek out the evils o’ the world while I try to help my fellow man build a life of righteousness for himself an’ his family.” He took note that both elves were looking at him a little strangely. He chuckled as he spoke again. “Can I ask why the look you two’re givin’ me?”

Shani and Pania blinked in response, unable to find the words. Finally, Shani let go of a breath it seemed she’d been holding before she encounter the vampires in the passenger car, and spoke. “My… my brother’s a paladin. He do the type o’ stuff you do.”

Pania perked an eyebrow and looked to Shani with a somewhat baffled look. Shani looked back and shrugged lightly. “Ye’ll ‘aveta pardon us, Reverend,” Pania said as though to break a forthcoming uncomfortable silence. “Shani, an’ meself, really. Well, we’re no’ familiar wit’ seein’ this kinda act on this planet. ‘R this kinda man wha’ can…”

Her small speech was cut short as one vampire who managed to survive crawled up and laughed aloud. “You’ll never stop my mistress, you know,” he spat out in a sickening sneer. “At this very moment she lay in wait in the luxury car. And meanwhile, this train will soon be ours.” He lunged forward, fangs bared as he meant to overpower the diminutive bard. But for her size, she was fast and well versed with her rapier. She drew it quickly as she muttered an incantation. As the vampire impaled himself on the blade, it glowed with magical flame and eventually consumed the vampire, turning him to dust.

Pania looked to Shani and Carter as she sheathed her blade again. Carter arched an eyebrow as he studied her for a moment, but all Pania could do was shrug. “I’ve knowledge o’ the arcane, meself. Bu’ anyway…” She looked to Shani as a thought came to mind. “Where were the only other place we met vampires ‘ere?”

Shani furrowed her brow and snorted a laugh as though she began to realize. “Back in Pennsylvania. Ya figger thet Ya’Row come back fer revenge.”

“It’s possible,” Pania admittedly resigned herself to say.

“No matter what,” Carter finally said in a calm voice. “We have a duty to do. I’ll head to the engine an’ see ’bout clearin’ the rest o’ these scum off this train. I wouldn’t mind havin’ an extra gun hand like yaself, Miss Shani.” Shani nodded quickly as she reloaded her Colts. Carter looked to Pania with a soft smile. “Do you think you can deal with this vampire while we’re gone?”

“More ‘n capable,” Pania said with an assured nod. “Like ta put tha’ witch back in the ground.”

With those words the three went their separate ways to deal with the evil that had begun to fester on the train.

Lyssa’s Tale Chapter Three Part Four

“How?” I questioned.

“I know a lady who take on boarders,” she said. “She helps gets girls off the streets and into some honest work.”

“So it’s a brothel?” I asked, shock ringing in my voice.

“Heavens no!” She exclaimed. “It’s not a brothel. Besides, that isn’t honest work. I’ll tell you what, you stay here the night, with me and I’ll take you to see her at first light.”

The idea of sleeping in a graveyard unnerved me slightly, but being with a consoler, I was safer here than in my own bed. So I agreed to stay with Ril. She gave me cloak to cover up with and her pack to rest my head on. Sleeping on the cold bench wasn’t the greatest but beggars can’t be choosers. Ril had a job to do, and if I was going to get her help, I needed to stay where she was.

It was several hours before dawn when I shook awake. Grumbling I opened my eyes to see Ril smiling and becoming excited as I moved.

“Lyssa, you must see this,” she said ecstatically. “Look.”

I mumbled something incoherently I sat up. While I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, Ril bantered on about what I should be looking at. When I did finally look up, my breath caught in my throat. The cemetery had an unusual eerie green glowing gas that rose from the graves.

“This is what is known …” Ril said.

“The Souls Crossing,” I finished.

I never saw anything like it before, but I had heard of it. It was wonderful and creepy at the same time. The wind was blowing, rolling the vapor across the cemetery. Ril joined me on the bench and smiled warmly.

“People call it the Souls Crossing because they don’t actually understand what it is really,” she explained. I looked at her curiously waiting for her to continue. “When the dead are buried, they begin to wither away. A person’s body is filled with natural elements, which it eventually releases. The Souls Crossing is just that, elements escaping the body and rising to the surface. Notice how it only seems to be over the graves that only a few days old?”

I looked over the graves again, and it was true. Almost all the graves that hadn’t settled, had ghostly emissions rising from it. There was a rustling behind the bench Ril and I sat on, then a light groan. I held back a scream as the sound of something moving grew closer and closer. Ril noticed I was tense, she remained calm while taking my hand. My breathing increased with each step the creature took. I wanted to look around and see what it was, but fear gripped me in place. The odor of rotting flesh hit my nose, making me heave slightly.

Just when I felt something cold ripple down my spine, Ril turned slightly, saying something that I didn’t understand. I closed my eyes tightly, gripping her hand as the explosion of bright white light flashed. Soon after. the odd feeling was gone and the smell faded.

“Oh dear,” she said with a slight disappointed shake of her head. “I was afraid he’d try that.”

I stared at her disbelievingly, my mind couldn’t process what she had just done. Part of me wanted to run screaming from the cemetery, the other part wanted to stay and see more. I put on a brave face and turned to see what had been of the he she spoke of.

“That is how that spell is supposed to work,” Ril told me, seeing my eye on the pile of ashes that was now sitting on the ground. Needless to say I didn’t sleep the rest of the night.

“When the sun rises, we’ll go to visit Delila,” Ril told me with a yawn. “She’s the lady of the house I’m taking you to.”

“What is she like?” I asked softly.

“Honestly, she used to be a prostitute,” Ril explained nervously. “One night after a particularly rough customer, decided he didn’t want pay her and beat her. Sywyn, Shani and I were together that night when we found her. She has no family, but wished a consoler there. Sywyn and I did what we could to keep her comfortable while Shani fetched a doctor. Delila stopped selling herself that night. With my help, and Sywyn’s to a point, we helped her open up her boarding house. She takes in any girl, no questions asked.”

“Are you sure it’s not a brothel?” I asked semi-jokingly. “A girls’ only place?”

“Yes, I’m positive,” Ril said. “She wanted to protect girls from going through what she went through. It took her months and many medications to recover, but I will let her explain herself more if she wishes.”

The sunrise over the cemetery was beautiful. The mist that settled over the ground throughout the night, rolled along the ground. Early birds chirped cheerfully as they hunted for their breakfast. A tired looking man approached Ril and I.

“Good morning Mistress Ril,” he said in a lackluster tone . “All was well?”

“Yes, there were a few that decided to walk, but they were soon laid to rest again,” she replied as he eyed me curiously. “This is Lyssa. She got lost last night and kept me company. Lyssa is this is Roden.”

“Hi,” I replied meekly. I was almost certain he was deliberating on if I was living or not.

“Greetings,” he said. His cold manner reminded me how much Ril stood out among her fellow Consolers. “If there is nothing else…”

“No, nothing,” Ril told him with a smile. “Have a good day, Roden”

I followed Ril out of the cemetery, my eyes drifting back to Roden for a moment. He was kneeling in prayer over one of the still fresh graves. I was happy to be leaving, Roden left me feeling uneasy. We moved quietly through the streets, the people had just begun to rise for a new day. It was something I was used to. Sun up to sun down the townsfolk filled the streets. Farmers heading to the market to sell their produce, lawyers and politicians floating about the Magistrates circle. Ril lead me down a still sleepy street and to a house that was unremarkable as the rest.

“Here we are,” she stated cheerfully. She moved up the stairs gracefully and knocked politely on the door.

“Comin’!” A voice sang out from in the inside.

When the door opened there was a very pretty blond on the other side. Her green eyes were warm and welcoming.

“Mistress Ril!” She exclaimed, hugging Ril. “It’s been a while. Are you here to see Delila?”

“Yes, I have a new boarder for her,” Ril replied, hugging the girl. “This is Lyssa. Lyssa this is Rorea”

“Ahh,” Rorea said warmly. “Welcome. Please come in. Delila is still dressing, she should be down any moment.”

“Thank you,” Ril said entering the door. I followed behind her quietly, looking around the house while we walked.

It was a plain house on the outside. Nondescript. Once inside it became a place of color, just like a painting. The hall we stood in had warm colored throw rugs covering the scrubbed wooden floor. Against the wall was a wooden table that held a vase of fresh flowers, filling the air with their sweet scent. The house wasn’t common by any means. A set of wooden steps crept upwards to a second floor.

Rorea lead us into a small sitting room. Hand made plates decorated the walls, along with knick-knacks over every surface. The furniture was upholstered in a pretty burgundy color, and the wood was dark, rich looking.

“The Knights of Stonebridge, make a large donation to this house,” A woman’s voice spoke behind me. “They’ve tried to get me to move into bigger accommodations, but I keep firm with telling them that will only intimidate girls. I prefer to keep it welcoming rather than overwhelming.”

“Delila,” Ril smiled as she and I turned around.

Before us stood a voluptuous woman. Her hair was the color of a pomegranate and tumbled down in a cascade of curls. Her heart shaped face was a warm tawny color. Brown eyes welcomed me even more when her full red lips were turned into a smiled. The dress she wore was a rich gold color, with a low, square cut neckline. The sleeves came only to her elbow and were embroidered with a small, white vine-like pattern. Her corset had been drawn tight, pushing her bosom into a delicate swell of flesh. The draped front was swept back and held in place, forming a small bustle behind Delila. Along the hemline was a small bit of ruffled lace peeking out under her skirt along with a pair of white pointed toe shoes.

“Darling Ril,” she said with a warm smile. Delila floated to Ril and kissed her cheek warmly. “It’s been ages, what brings you here?”

“Delila, this is Lyssa,” Ril said pulling me gently from behind her. I suddenly felt very exposed and naked. “Lyssa this is Miss Delila Lossëhelin”

“It is a pleasure, Miss Lyssa.” Delila said with a warm smile and a shake of my hand.

“It’s nice to meet you as well,” I replied softly. She looked me over and gave me a sympathetic smile.

“Lyssa has run into some trouble and needs a place to stay for a while,” Ril explained.

“Of course, she can room with Eruanna,” Delila said. “I’ll be more than happy to help her out.”

It was true, she didn’t ask any questions, she just agreed to take me in. Once Ril helped me settle in, she left me in the house, promising to visit me as often as she could. It took several days to get used to living at Delila’s. There were seven girls, eight including myself. Miss Delila looked after all of them. For one reason or another they were there and over time, their stories came out just like mine. We became family, sisters. For once, I actually felt accepted.

New working environment

Today’s been an interesting day.  First day back after a middle of the week one day holiday, which is enough to set your internal clock off.  You really have to remind yourself that it’s Wednesday, not Saturday or Sunday.  Mostly it feels like the latter, because everything downtown is closed due to the Remembrance Day holiday.

Today, though, I came into work with a whole list of things to do.  Having the copier fixed was not something on that list.  So, a small lull in activity (no printing while the tech is working on the copier) allowed me to do what I’ve been thinking of doing for a while.  Move into my office instead of sitting in the middle of the work shop area in the back.

This office used to be where our account sat, but thanks to restructuring, she moved out to the front, leaving this room empty.  The suggestion had been made that I could move into this place.  Quite frankly, it was a good idea.  I sit right next to the photocopier.  So every day I’m breathing in the fresh ink that gets output from the copier.  Today, for example, we had a print job for 1400 folded and stapled, 8 page booklets (four pages, double sided) on legal size paper.  That’s 5600 pieces of paper being printed on, 13,200 if you consider it’s double sided.  That’s a lot of fumes.

This move does two important things; first the fumes.  Yes, copiers release fumes when they print.  The four colour inks can be toxic, and it’s been proven that over time if someone sits next to a copier, that it can do a good deal of damage.  Cancer is one of the worst things (take your pick which kind).  Second, the noise.  I move away from the constant humming of the copier which is beating down my ears with constant noise.  It’s not quiet either.  No, no hum of a gentle machine, but a bang, clang cha-cang from a black and silver monster that need only destroy you by making noise.  Or jamming, as it has done lately.

Sure, I can’t be there physically to make sure that I can get a copy.  I’m probably a lot better off health wise by not sitting beside it.  Besides, I like the home-like aspect of my new surroundings.  I have walls now, and a doorway.  No door, but I’m find with that.  The way I sit, in complete gunslinger fashion with back to the wall, I can see who’s coming to see me, instead of having them sneak up behind me like has been the case lately.  This also affords me a sort of safe haven to go into, a place I can call my own at my place of work.

This new (to me) location will take some getting used to.  I expect to be shocked in the morning to see my old desk completely bare, but the memory will kick in again and I should drift into my new office.  Eventually, that should happen without thought before the Christmas break.

Until next time…

…keep ‘em flyin’!