whadmin

by whadmin

Kindle

August 28, 2011 in Poetry

Kindle

Help, I need a Kindle

For my books are on a spindle

Meticulously stacked on a shelve

So neat, it must have been the work of an elf

However these are the modern times

Where the bell not tolls but chimes

I doubt any elf rhymes

While dusting books in vintage soukhs

For the kind Kindle

Stacking books on a spindle

Hinders the elf

While dusting the shelve

Last edited by alternativebe on August 29, 2011, 1:52 am

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by whadmin

Illusion

August 19, 2011 in Poetry

I was there with you
Upon the steps of the cathedral
In the twilight

Dripping of Christ
Of the stars,
Of the sun.

I was there with you
Upon the sand
Waves of foam crashing at our heels.

What has come has gone to the sky.
And, what has come of it?
Nothing short of illusion.

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by whadmin

In Response to Plutarch

August 19, 2011 in Poetry

Play me through Pan’s pipes
To soft, from memories fall
In haunting echoes of desire.
Pan lives!
His magick reeds yet call
Lover’s wings to even higher ecstasies
Than Love’s brief flight…
And sighs refrain its mist and fire.
Pan is the song of Love’s delight
That plays through lover’s memories
In measure eternal.
Play me through Pan’s pipes
Or play me not at all.

Last edited by Damian on August 19, 2011, 4:28 am

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by whadmin

Shine for Me

August 19, 2011 in Poetry

I’m tired.
Much too depleted for this, too
spent for Love’s antics, I
know why the task is
left to the young, who
are forever in pursuit of
the next Big Adventure, while I
sigh in contemplation with the
complacence of middle-age.

Too much passion has
worn me thin; too
many years of
dwelling in sin and
debauchery and
chains and
leather and
whips against my skin.

I’m done! I’m done! I
scream at the sky knowing in my
heart the reason why I
keep looking toward the gallows as my
paragon of deliverance, a way out, and
end to the wretchedness I feel when I
look into eyes that relentlessly ask why I
cannot be who you want me to be; who you
need me to be for you.

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by whadmin

Diagnosis Alzheimer’s …

August 17, 2011 in Short Stories

Every morning my boss attempts to wake me up by pushing a button, making me start up for the day ahead. Alas, today… bleep… I am just about to make it, then suddenly I am stuck for I … bleep … to start my friendly boss’s machine, thingy … I do not know what it is called.
This leaves my boss in a … bleep … state. His w… seems to depend upon me and he takes a look at my … blutton or whatever it is called. Today I suddenly seem to know very little of all the work the man put into me over the years.
And yet I have been such a faithful … pbleep…, always well kept too. For I am his pjight and loy, or something else, I really cannot seem to recall.
Well, the blutton thingy seems to work, my faithful owner seems pluzzed, for everything seemed to work perfectly as I went to sleep.
This morning, I do not know, I just cannot pelfrom or do thingies that I normally do autothingyly …
The man now loses his tempel with me (I hope I still get that light) I am losing it too.
What is wrong with me? Normally artef the blutton has been pushed, I … bleep… what to do. I hear the word ‘windows’ muttering in my ears, well my window thingy is always clear. Why cannot he see what he is meant to? What is rwong with me? He is the one who … bleeped … me, he should know!
Help!! I am losing it: he takes me al … bleep! All my prats … bleeped … on the table! Somebody!! He is trotruing me! Now I am all … bleeping… useless! The … bleep … what will happen to his flies?
He says it is o.k. but I flee k.o., while I am …blripped … of my bleepdisk! I want my hardthingy back, because the flies are in there! The stupid romon!
Now he tells me my hardthingy is fine. Why am I fleeing that I have frogotten everything I know?
Now, he has a go at my mummybleep! How dare he? She has got fleeings too! Then he usddenly tackles my probleepsor… What the fleep he thinks he is bleeping? My probleepsor sruvives the test as well!
Oh my God, what have I bleeped to deserve this dealor? I cannot memreber that I vree did thingysom wrong!!!
The final nodiagsis is that my mormery has all gone?
Blimey bleep, I have got Alzheimer’s, that I know, for I do not bleep … who … am … more … any…

Help!!!

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by whadmin

Gedicht voor Pa

August 12, 2011 in Poetry

Poem written in Dutch, in remembrance of my father (1927-2010) also to be found in the local undertaker’s portfolio of suitable poems
Pa,

Je leven begon even voor de jaren dertig
Als kleuter was je toen drie
Aan de hand van Bomma Victorine
Ging je graag naar tekenfilms zien.

Met Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck en Betty Boop
Leeftijdsgenoten, begon je leven alvast goed
Op je zesde begon voor jou de lagere school in het Frans
Maar tijdens je eerste knutselen kregen het horloge van je pa en de trein van je broer geen kans …

Een echte uitvinder met Lampje was geboren
Daar gingen we later nog van horen!
Na de achtste klas
Op naar de Meistraat met je waterpas!

Het waren de jaren veertig
Allerminst een prettige tijd
Door bommen en ander verborgen gedruis
Was je opeens de helft van je klasgenoten kwijt
Jij hebt het wel geweten
Jij bent het nooit vergeten

De jaren vijftig, een nieuw begin
Je huwde mama Justine
Samen met haar was het werken
Café in, café uit … Als een grote tovenaar
En weer was er een juke box klaar
Van de Zirkstraat naar het Onschuldig Schaap
Ging het verder naar de Gard Sivik

Daar ontwikkelde je je eigen ‘ik’
Met dank aan Mike, Flor, ‘de garde’, Herman, Ferre en Nic
Ging je met een telegeleid konijn
Naar het Uitvindersfestijn

Tijdens de jaren zestig
Vierde je met Tineke jullie uitgestelde jeugd
1964 was een uitmuntend jaar
Je gezinnetje werd uitgebreid en meteen klaar
Stond je ook voor allerlei laboratoria en professoren
Hun apparatuur kon je ook wel bekoren …
Nadat je de weg naar de microscoop had gevonden
Werd niets meer te klein bevonden
Na al die uren mocht je graag vertoeven
Op het Conscienceplein, om even niks meer te hoeven

Op een dag in de jaren zeventig
Kreeg je bezoek van nonkel Maurice
Opeens had je een eigen atelier
Je was je eigen baas
Alle reparaties, niet te heet of te zwaar
Je stond voor iedereen klaar
In het Nederlands, Engels, Jiddisch of Frans
Iedereen kreeg bij jou een kans

De jaren tachtig waren prachtig
Fred werd je vaste klant en nieuwe vriend voor het leven
Herman passeerde opeens voor je uitstalraam
Nam je meteen mee naar de Magiërs en Figuration Critique
Tentoonstellen in Parijs, dat was pas machtig

De jaren negentig kabbelden verder
Samen met vele vrienden op je pad
Met voltijds werken had je het stilaan gehad
Halftijds gaf je nog meer tijd voor kunst en vlijt

Het millennium begon in mineur
Tineke werd ziek en kwam er niet meer deur
Je pakte je levensdraad uitermate goed op
Op jouw energie stond geen stop
Een jaar later kwam Frank erbij
Met ons drieën waren we weer compleet
Een gezin, zoals dat heet
Je adopteerde hem als ‘zoon’
Dat vond je heel gewoon

Voor je buren stond je altijd klaar
Dat was wederzijds ook waar
Je ging verder van esoterie
Naar industriële archeologie
Maar ook in de natuur
Verbracht je menig uur
Het leven in de buurt van je jeugd
Deed je zichtbaar deugd

De goede lucht heeft niet mogen baten
Met een grote ‘Ai!’ kwam je ten val
Het ziekenhuis beleefde je als een nieuw experiment
Met een hoofd nog vol plannen heb je ons verlaten.

Last edited by alternativebe on August 12, 2011, 6:29 am

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by whadmin

Acceptance of war

August 10, 2011 in Uncategorized

Acceptance of war.

“Man…. homo sapiens? More like Homo stupidissimo. We have learned… nothing. Man and his endless wars. Endless. “
This was a comment made by Francis Meyrick on the YouTube video M*A*S*H Opening Song & Slideshow, to which I replied: “See? You have learned something! War is endless, it’s normal. War is even older than peace. War is older than civilization and indeed spawned civilization in the first place. Every great step taken in history has been decided by war (may it be civil war, revolution or an insurcengy as well). War and violence has solved a hell of a lot more issues than peace has ever done. Piracy in Somalia is one great example of how peace and laws of peace solve nothing. “
He misinterpreted this reply as glorification of war, but he did concede that he might have misunderstood me. I produced a more extensive message, explaining my views. He then thought I should post it here, and so I have. However, this text is a grossly expanded version of the original message, developing further on some points as well as bringing up new points. The gross expansion of it is only matched by its gross fractioned character. It was a hastily written message, confusing even for me as I read it over. Unfortunately my expanding of it lead to so many side-paths that it only grew more confusing, irrelevant side-paths some would say. This is basically me writing what my head was thinking.

I do not glorify war, I accept it. I judge the immorality and evilness of wars based on the impact on civilian society. Yes, i feel you can measure the evil of war, from no evil (granted though that such a war has yet to occur), to a preponderance of evil. War is often
(though not always) about criminals, thieves and rapists, having their way with civilian society. It’s sadly enough a natural state of affairs for some kinds of war, as counter-insurgency wars (Vietnam, Iraq) or the medieval and renaissance wars in which the belligerents financed their wars precisely by looting towns and villages; indeed, battles did not decide medieval conflict, the chevaucee, the systematic destruction of civilian infrastructure and produce, did. Modern warfare too will inherently cause great suffering to civilian society, as the concentration in time and space of battles has expanded a hundredfold if not more, encompassing entire cities and the full length if national borders, not to mention strategic bombing and nuclear weapons. But then we have those wars that was a near fulfillment of the utopia of warfare – soldier against soldier on a distant battlefield away from civilian society, soldiers whose very mindset to some degree shielded them from the dire psychological consequences our contemporary soldiers suffer from, fighting for formal legal states with moral and legal scruples and an economic system sound enough to finance the war without resorting to pillaging. Both political and social attributes of the time explain this. The wars I refer to in this instance are mainly those of the 18th and 19th centuries, but of course civilians suffered then too. The scale of civilian suffering, however, was very much different then. The suffering that was inflicted was accidental, rather than deliberate.

I have read somewhere that during the 18th and 19th centuries the proportions of war casualties was on average 80% soldiers and 20% civilians – the figure of the 20th century is likely the reverse. Reasons for this was partly that wars of this era were often fought outside Europe in desolate places, that the warfare of the time emphasized field battles as opposed to siege battles (siege battles having a tendency to end in total carnage, if not by the conqueror’s sword once in the streets of a city, then by disease), the disciplined nature of standing armies, and that the “honour ” and moral code of the gentlemen leading the armies of this time obliged them to restrain their men from atrocities. One example is to be found in the American Revolutionary war, in which Joseph Brant, an Indian ally of the British brought up by English standards of conduct, went ahead of his war party to warn the frontier village they were about to attack; he successfully averted a massacre of women and children. Another example is from the French and Indian war, in which French soldiers actually died defending English captives from French-allied Indians. POW:s were treated exemplary, not only gentlemen, but also the rank-and-file captives. This moral climate explains the great outbursts of public outrage whenever a massacre of unarmed people or the looting of a town occurred.

Then something happened: the French Revolution. The Revolution brought middling men into the officer ranks, men without “honour “. Post-revolutionary France displayed a very different climate from what had been before. Like a force of nature the most radical ideas of enlightenment were realized in one form or the other, and the turmoil and upheaval, as well as the perceived grandness of and importance to implement these radical ideas, allowed and justified atrocities. We all know the French Revolution was a bloody story, but it not only included the Terror and all the other more immediate effects on civic society and government; it translated into a more ruthless kind of warfare. The political war, or “people’s war “, was born. Something akin to the political war had been the religious wars; the same in mobilizing and harvesting the passions of the masses, different in what cause incited it. The 18th century was something of an intermezzo between these two forms of war, with enlightened monarchs governing with a firm hand the passions of the mob. The successful monarch, however, would to some degree indulge the masses to let out steam on occasion. French absolutism did not, and thus paved the way for an enthusiastic popular response to any challenges to its legitimacy.

The ruthlessness of the French revolutionary armies and later imperial armies was a prelude to the utter destruction of wars such as WW2, the Chinese Civil War, the Russian Civil War, the Finnish Civil War etc. What caused this ruthlessness, as far as I can tell, was that the plebeian people who had in the past fought with an indifference to the cause of the conflict, since the cause was often that of a monarch or a cabinet of ministers and thus above the heads of ordinary people, were integrated into the world of ideas and ideologies. Suppressed grievances combined with literacy and the rather extraordinary growth and distribution of newspapers in the second half of the 18th century partly explains this. The consumer revolution, which stretched from about 1750-1850, is also instrumental for an understanding of the matter; the common people became more assertive and bold, and thus ripe for demagogues and responsive to any ideology which would promote their interests. What this boils down to is that war became a personal matter, where every participant felt he had a stake in the contest, and thus the enemy, a term now extending beyond soldiers to include civil citizens of the opposing society, was viewed with a personal hate. In any case, Napoleon may be said to have been the inventor, or re-inventor, of the ruthless war, the immoral war. He was a member of the lesser gentry, and was certainly influenced by his uncle’s methods in the guerilla war fought on Corsica during Napoleon’s youth. To begin with he did nothing that any other revolutionary commander hadn’t done; cutting down people on the streets of Paris with artillery. That incident made his name, which goes to show what kind of men the political leadership of France at that time sought. He then went on by executing 3,000 Ottoman POW:s during his Egyptian campaign, after giving his word they would go free if they surrendered to him. As emperor, he ordered brutal shows of force first in Germany, and then in Spain (which set off the bloody insurgency war there). The French soldier was also, out of necessity, to live off the land to an extent not seen since the Thirty Years war, with obvious consequences for civilians. After the Napoleonic wars this conduct was dormant for some time, once the bourgeois and nobility had retaken control of Europe by granting great or small concessions on matters concerning the common man, as well as being prepared for subsequent attempts at revolution. (The Parisian boulevard’s main purpose was to make it harder for rebels to barricade streets, as well as allow for the easier deployment of artillery and military formations to combat rebels).Worth mention is that on the eve of the Revolution, both Britain and Austria-Hungary were carrying out extensive liberal reforms; unfortunately, the carnage of the French Revolution spooked the gentry rulers and intellectuals behind these reforms, making them fear similar carnage and upheaval in their own societies if authority was loosened, and thus postponed these reforms for decades. The ruthlessness of Napoleonic warfare would not show itself again in Europe until the passions of the masses was once again released in the Russian and Finnish civil wars.

My point is that there is a difference to be made between personal wars and impersonal wars, a difference in intensity and ability to endure, a difference in morality and costs. Not even war is as black and white as some would have it. For example, we today feel for our soldiers, because they are not very different from us, and most are just as innocent as us civilians when they go into service. This does partly explain our current moral code towards war, our abhorrence towards it; it destroys fine young people. But not long ago armies were composed of the scum of society, the same sort of men that are causing such devastation in the streets of London as I write. When we can be sure of such a difference between ourselves and our soldiers, perhaps we would look at war differently, as indeed people once did. I’m not promoting such a society, I’m merely stating how things were and might be again, and how that would probably change our view of war radically. Indeed, a militarized society is the last thing I want, Sweden has had it before, and it brings only misfortunes, not to mention that I would never be able to stand the “poor victim/great national hero ” rhetoric aimed at veteran soldiers, a rhetoric abundant in America since the Vietnam war. An interesting generation of soldiers, who first faced the full might of a near treacherous anti-war society at home only to now be revered as half-gods. Soldier should be viewed for what they are, just as war itself; they are not only crooks, not only heroes, not only victims, they are everything and none of it. The hero title in particular is very cheap in some circles.

War is what we make of it. War has overwhelmingly generally been celebrated by both tax payers and soldiers. The sense towards war is, as all doings of men, subject to flowing and changing feelings and value codes towards it. Can someone really blame the Victorian British for being so war-mongering, when the wars were fought on a another continent as well as justified by the moral consciousness of those times, not to mention that the colonial wars enriched the nation? In today’s post-imperialistic, post-Cold war and post-ww2 world it is natural for us to alter our values to detest war. But this has happened before, the Thirty Years war and Napoleonic wars spawning intellectual as well as public apprehension to war – for a while. We live in such a time, but every year of failure of peace to resolve issues will make war popular once again. That is why it might be necessary to know when it’s time to bring out the guns. Let war loose in proportions, so that we may be spared from a flood. To avoid a wholesale resort to war-mongering policy, we need to discard our current wholesale peace-mongering policy. Let the UN send an expeditionary force to Syria, let the CTF 150 treat the Somali pirates by martial law, let us use gunboat diplomacy to correct the situation in Belarus etc. Fight wars with clear objectives. The failure to do this is what made Vietnam so bloody, the success of it was what made the 19th century so comparatively humane after 1815. Furthermore, if we stop considering every coming war between Great Powers as the final war to end war, and instead accept it as just another war, it would do a lot to make these big wars tolerable. In the end though, I believe it’s money, not morals, that has kept us away from these “surgical ” military interventions.

It is truly a great irony that the closest we ever came to something remotely resembling world peace was when the Western empires were in their ace. Great imperial interests on other continents made Europe uninteresting, with the effect that those wars that were fought on European soil were very short and limited, a trend followed in the colonial wars as well, since it was not necessary to employ full-scale military efforts at natives with melee weapons. And these colonial wars in turn had the natural consequence of pacifying the rest of the globe outside of the Western world. Powers whose main interest did lay in Europe also fought limited wars in Europe so that they wouldn’t attract too much attention from the imperial powers; a frame constructed and broken by Germany. Germany’s greatest guilt is that her inferiority complex destroyed that world by revisiting Europe itself with total war, only this time the ideas that spawned the war, WW2, remained to be part of our established politics to this day. Maybe it’s more accurately Bismarck’s fault, for not explicitly making his policy of restricted war Germany’s policy. Bismarck guided Prussia throughout her 19th century expansion, and one of the reasons Prussia got away with her aggressions was that the wars were short, not one of them lasting over a year. Once Prussia achieved the objectives of a war, they sat down at the peace tables, not making up new objectives as the opportunities arose. Sadly, Bismarck past away without having standardized this policy.

Am I being racist, being content with a stable West and a world pacified by the West? Make no mistake, world peace will never ever be accomplished by the sole reliance on the goodness and sociability of the human race, there will always be someone itching for a fight, always somebody there to take advantage of others distress. And do not forget that while we Westerners have deeply entrenched anti-war sentiments, deeply rooted in us after two world wars and several genocides, almost no other culture on earth share this profound distaste. It is unique to us. And I doubt anyone is so naïve as to think China and Russia will restrain themselves from using their military resources in the future (one estimate is that China will be ready for offensive warfare in about 15 years). We must either convert every man on earth to our beliefs, or someone must be stronger than all the rest of the world combined, if we are to have any lasting world peace. I prefer that the West be that strong one. Imagine the world with China being the trendsetter as the West has been for the last centuries – what would become of human rights, of humanitarian aid, of law as we know it? The West is flawed in its upholding of these matters, partly because we refuse to go to war over them, but somewhere I feel this upholding would not only be flawed, but non-existent, with any other than the West at the lead. I may be biased, but somehow I think the whole world, not only the West, would be better off with Europe and America in command. And powers are now growing who by themselves can challenge the whole West, combined they may even defeat it. A big war will come, and we must be willing to fight it. Indeed, it might even be necessary with a preventative blow, to take the opportunity while there is still time for the West to dominate completely on the battlefield. Our air forces alone can win a conventional war today. And it will not be the last war, nor must it be fought as if it was, or we will have a nuclear winter. As long as a war is necessary, how can it be any different?

That is why my attitude towards war is what it is – not glorifying, but accepting, even promoting to some degree I grant, but not naïve. I may glorify war per se, the act of war, but I harbor no illusions as to the nature of war. Ultimately, though, war is what we make of it, in practice I mean now. I believe there can be glory in war, that it has been glory in war. Was the charge of the Light Brigade at Balaclava a meaningless folly? Of course it was, on the part of the men in command. Was it folly of the men who actually carried out the charge, a charge they knew very well went against common sense as they trotted on into the valley? It might be argued it was a folly by men harboring romantic notions of duty and glory to the point they’d die for them; but doesn’t romanticism stop exactly there, where reality begins? The reality is that they did ride on, despite shocking casualties they rode on with cannons firing at them from both flanks and front and very nearly succeeded. When people hold true to their convictions in the face of brute reality in such a situation, it is glorious bravery, not mindless romanticism. Such acts lends substance to what we otherwise would dismiss as ridiculous men’s fantasies. My reasoning is crystal clear in my mind on this matter, I can only hope I managed to translate it in these lines.

As long as we view war for what it is and never forget its costs on all levels of society, we can have a world where we choose our wars carefully. In the near future though, we might not be able to choose when and how, which makes it all the more clearer that we must soon choose to fight some wars while we still hold the reigns and can contain it. I am being my own judge now, and other may and will judge differently, and I accept that too.

Last edited by Faxe on August 11, 2011, 4:44 pm

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by whadmin

Writing in a language that is not your mother tongue.

August 10, 2011 in article about writing

Writing in a language that is not your mother tongue

English is not my native language. I started writing in English after having ordered pork chops and steak at a local Flemish butcher. A few hours earlier, I had passed my practical English grammar exam at the local university. Luckily, the man possessed a sense of humour … After that glorious day I have written most of my poetry and short stories in my favourite language, English. I was 19 at the time.

Though Dutch is my native language, I still write in English. I am very much aware that it is not my native language and that there are a few elements to consider while writing in English.

First off all, when writing in English, I think in English. In my viewpoint, this is a very important element. Whenever I am thinking in Dutch and try writing in English, I either find myself searching for words or making literal translations of Dutch words that make no so sense whatever when used in English.

Since I left university in 1984, I have not stopped studying or using English. I dare say, in some ways, I am more proficient in English now than I was at university. Practice makes perfect. Not only your diploma or qualifications are important but also what you do with them after your graduation. E.g. graduating with distinction has no purpose, if you do not make the effort to keep up with the evolution a language goes through over the years.

Languages are very much alive, just as alive as the people that use them as a means of communication. Words that were fashionable 20 years ago may be obsolete today. As for spelling: over the years, I discovered that the spelling of the English language is very consistent. Other languages have undergone spelling reforms during the 1st decade of the 21st century: Dutch (twice) and German (once).

Also, always check on spelling and grammar and when you do take this effort, do not rely on the built in spell checkers of your word processor or browser. They can be useful, but they do not contain all the words and spelling rules there are. Very often, a text without any green or red lines may still be full of little errors. When in doubt, use an up to date explanatory dictionary or a grammar manual. The times I only relied on the spell checkers, I ended up with a text full of beginner’s mistakes and matching red cheeks. Sometimes you will find that the words underlined in green or red are not spelled wrong. At times, your vocabulary is bigger than the computer’s!

These are my ground rules. I try to abide by those rules, sometimes I try to rush things and when I do sin against my own rules, I later on find out that I have made some avoidable mistakes.

Do I ever write in Dutch? Yes I do. When I do write in Dutch, I abide by the same rules I just have listed. When it comes to spelling, I have to be more attentive in Dutch than I am in English (remember the spelling reforms).

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by whadmin

Chapter 2 – That eerie feeling

August 8, 2011 in Other Writers

Chapter 2: That eerie feeling

Peter and Annie did not think too much of it when all of a sudden a little twig blew under the canvas of their tent. After all, they found themselves in the middle of the woods. It would be strange not to find any twigs in your tent or would not it? As a matter of fact, a second twig or little branch and some straw would be nice now, since the temperature was dropping in spite of the fact that they were keeping themselves very warm indeed.

Twigs or not, a fire sure would be useful and add to the romance because the atmosphere was becoming very chilly indeed and seemingly the wind was knocking on the umbrella as if it was asking permission to enter their tent. Peter and Annie felt somewhat shaky hearing the thumping and the knocking of this unexpected visitor.

Peter thought it strange that meteorological conditions were able to change this drastically. Still he felt adamant the tent was safe enough to protect them both and he took a peek outside: the sky had turned grey alright, but there was nothing to be alarmed about. The weather could be quite windy this time of year and he counted himself lucky that he had not had to drive through the infamous spring storms this year. In fact, this morning’s weather had been a pleasant surprise from the usual weather which was normally very good news to roofing workers and thatchers.

Annie felt a bit insecure. At this point, she came to the conclusion she had rather stayed at home. Her latent agoraphobia seemed to get the better of her … Peter on the other hand was instantly able to reassure her by holding her hand and stroking her hair and pointing out that the weather they were experiencing was nothing out the ordinary. In fact, when it came to weather conditions, the situation could have been far worse.

No according to Peter, all they needed was a good old fashioned Boy Scout camp fire outside the tent to keep them warm and to warn off any foxes that might be wandering about. Annie took to her sleeping bag as he set out to light the campfire. Producing one flame was not that hard because, though he did not smoke, Peter always carried matches with him during his habitual strolls in the woods. Maintaining the flame burning in order to produce a reliable fire that would be able to keep the both of them warm, proved to be a completely other matter. Due to the rising winds, every little flame he managed to produce kept going out as soon it had been lit.

In order not to disturb Annie, Peter decided to return into the tent to check up on Annie. She was very relieved to see him entering and was convinced this meant that the fire was finally burning. During the time she had been waiting for her eternal fiancé, she had become very cold indeed. Alas, no fire, not yet. Annie was not alarmed by the fact there was no fire to keep them warm, not yet anyway … She had Peter to keep her warm and he had Annie. Furthermore, she managed to produce a flask of hot soup she had been keeping at the bottom of the picnic basket. While Peter had been packing the sandwiches, she had discovered a big can of soup in the basement of their house. She had just seized the opportunity to pour the contents in a flask when Peter had not been looking and heating it all in the microwave before they left had been about the most exciting moment of the day before they left for their surprise trip. Tomato soup with meatballs had always been Peter’s favourite, specially when spiked up with some selected spices.

Well, since Peter had failed to build a decent fire, the flask of soup had to do for the moment. Peter drank it very eagerly. When he entered the by then chilly tent, it struck him that the cold combined with the wind outside had been unbearable and the outside conditions had changed drastically in comparison with the idyllic conditions of the very same morning.

At that point a very eerie feeling had filled Annie’s stomach. Even her favourite sandwiches, a good warm bowl of soup or a good stiff drink of rum were not able to calm her down. Annie was having one of her premonitions, no ‘seemingly’ nor ‘maybe’ about it this time. Judging her reactions, Peter was very convinced that these were no ordinary winds rising, nor the kind of storms they were used to tackle in this part of the world. At least, they were safe for now. The tent was holding up well, the wind speed was still between the normal range. Providing the situation would remain stable, they should be able to make home on time.

Home? That was something Annie had not been thinking about … What if the winds were stronger at the other end of the woods? She now realized they had failed to take their cell phones when they had head out for the picnic. Sometimes Peter took a walkie-talkie set with him on his solo trips through the woods, but since they were basically only miles away from their home, he had not thought it necessary to bring the set along.

Inside, Annie began shivering with fear. Was not this the right time to head home? Now the silently speeding winds would still allow them to dismantle the tent and pack their things and load everything back into the booth of her car. She dare not show her fear to Peter, who thought everything to be exciting and nothing to worry about so far. He judged the situation to be very handy to snuggle up to Annie in order to comfort her or maybe more. As he was about to make his move towards her, Annie instinctively backed away and rolled into a kind of rock like foetus position, balancing forwards and backwards. Looking at her, Peter by now realized Annie was really petrified.

In his experience, this was the sign it really was time to head home. Rationally, he knew there should be plenty of time to secure their possessions and have Annie safe at home in time. Now that his dear literally seemed petrified, he realized packing would be a very stressful experience for the both of them. Because of the state she was in, Annie had become a solid rock package herself, still steadily swinging backwards and forwards… Peter understood that his love would be the toughest package to handle, yet her physical condition was the best barometer to use in a trustworthy weather forecast. He finally was convinced of the seriousness of the situation and he too felt that an eerie feeling was slowly creeping into his stomach, but not taking over, not yet.

While observing Annie and the state she was in, he had been focussed in such a way that he had completely blocked out what was going on outside. Annie did not seem to hear or feel anything around her. Though it were her extra ordinary senses that had triggered the state she was in now, she no longer was able to feel, see nor hear anything that could be of any use. In order to protect herself from her biggest fears, she had blocked all of her senses to the extent that she no longer was able to observe her surroundings. By now, she had reached the utter stage of introversion.

Meanwhile, Peter was able to hear the branches of the trees swaying, as the winds were now surely and steadily speeding up and precious time was ticking away. As he attempted to pack their belongings as quickly as possible in order to secure them in the booth of the car, he now felt the wind pushing him distinctively in all sorts of directions, except for the one he needed to go. He barely managed to push himself towards the car … How on earth would he make it, packed with a picnic basket, a soup flask, a stack of sweaters, an umbrella, three airbeds and last but not least … Annie.

By now, Annie’s appearance had somewhat of a statue. Peter instantly felt a huge amount of empathy for Atlas the Greek giant who had to carry all the burdens of the world onto his shoulders. How on earth was he going to be able to get everything and everyone out of the middle of nowhere? The gut feeling he previously had experienced in his stomach had now turned into a very eerie sensation indeed. Nevertheless, he still had the power to pull himself together. He decided to secure the picnic basket and the airbeds first since those were the items most likely to be susceptible to being carried away by the wind. Picking them up was the least of his worries. Getting them out of the tent without harming the construction or losing the umbrella at this point seemed to be a near to impossible task.

Meanwhile, Annie remained sitting all curled up and moaning in the left hand corner of the tent, her body still swinging steadily backwards and forwards … How was she to react at the moment Peter was to leave the tent? Peter shuddered at the thought that Annie would have to stay behind. At times in the past where she had found herself in a position were she no longer was in control of herself it had been impossible to move her without creating some sort of a scene … Peter reckoned that being on their own could eventually prove to be a benefit in their situation. After all, the winds were strong, but not that heavy that their impact would be impossible to overcome.

However, Annie’s condition still had remained status quo. At this point, her appearance resembled more that of an heavy object than that of a human being. Peter decided to combine all of his forces and would consider pulling Annie out of the tent first. After all, chances were that she would feel more at ease and protected seated in her own car than in a tent were the wind was howling through like a wolf …

He cautiously approached Annie, in order not to startle her. Yet she lashed out like a wild cat. She felt so ultimately petrified that she was not able to budge. Furthermore she doubted Peter would be strong enough to get her into the car. In extreme situations (or rather, situations that seemed to be extreme to Annie) her body just refused to move or to be moved. At that point, Annie would rather be a tortoise in her shell. Peter was well aware of this and was convinced that Annie’s car would serve as a tortoise shell just fine. Dragging his girlfriend out of the tent was really something else. By now, she really and truly was way past the sensation of the eerie feeling in her stomach. In fact, she felt completely numb and at this moment could not care less whether she was going to live or die. Deep down inside she was still conscious of the fact that Peter loved her deeply and more than he ever would be able to express. However, because she loved him back just as much as he did her, she was convinced he would be better off without her. Subconsciously, she was convinced that Peter deserved better than starting this pathetic attempt to rescue her from a two person tent that barely was able to withstand the rising wind.

Using superhuman strength, eventually Peter was able to pull Annie out of the tent and carry her near to her car. What otherwise would have been a piece of cake, got the proportions of a nearly unfulfillable burden. If the conditions had not been so dramatic, the events surely could have been labelled as utterly hilarious. Maybe they should change their names into Mr. and Mss. Bean?

Annie at the other hand, frantically hung on to the door handle of her car while Peter was trying to open the door for her. Due to the force of the wind the door kept slamming back. Indeed, this was to become one of those days on which everything seemed to go wrong.

Peter by then, had lost all hope of getting Annie safe into the car, when quite unexpectedly, the wind turned in a favourable direction. Suddenly the wind made sure the car door stayed open long enough for Annie to get seated into her car. From the moment she entered the car, she felt more relaxed and certainly more safe than in the tent.

For Peter on the other hand, the real challenge was but to begin: for the wind was still rising, his gut feeling had surpassed that of an eerie feeling. Now he, at his turn felt as if a ton of lead lay upon his stomach. At the one hand, he now sensed what Annie must have been sensing all along when she at previous occasions uttered that she was so petrified she could not move any more and felt like a statue nailed to the ground. Peter had always maintained his view on Annie’s condition by linking it to her being a highly sensitive person. Now he was about to experience the same obstacles as Annie had previously left impaired.

He was well aware of the fact that he had to think and to act fast in order to prevent that they would glued to the wretched soil for ever. As he was standing there, he suddenly sensed the trees were trying to communicate with him.

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by whadmin

The day the wind lay down – Chapter 1 – Enjoying the silence

August 8, 2011 in Other Writers

Peter and Annie were still snoozing in bed when they were gently awoken by the soft sunlight and the clear blue sky entering their bedroom… As Peter was in one of his more romantic moods, he thought it would be a nice day for an old fashioned romantic picnic.
Looking lovingly at Annie, still sound asleep like a rose with one of her legs dangling out of their narrow bed, he silently sneaked out of bed to prepare a full English breakfast …

Meanwhile, Annie tossed and turned, feeling the caressing warmth of the rays of sunshine entering the room and reaching for her pale skin.
In the morning, Annie just loved procrastinating and being waited upon. In this respect, she resembled a cat, stretching and yawning and being creative at finding excuses for not getting out of bed as long as she could get away with it.

There was a good reason for her to fake lazy behaviour. In fact, she was not proud of it, but it gave her the opportunity to conceal her underlying problem from the outside world. Annie happened to be a very heavy agoraphobic but up until now had always been able to hide her condition from the world. She only had trusted her partner to be notified of her condition. To her friends and acquaintances she seemed sometimes somewhat eccentric … But that was to be expected, with Annie being a writer and nearly always cooped up in front of her computer… writing and communicating with people of all sorts from all over the world. In fact nobody really knew about her life altering predicament. Like so many others she had managed to camouflage her condition exceptionally well usually by making up excuses like being too busy with work in order to avoid attending outside events or extracurricular activities. However, on some days temptation managed to get the better of her and she suddenly found herself being lured out of the house. A little bird chirping outside her bedroom told her this was going to be one of those days.

Suddenly, she sniffed savoury scents coming out of the kitchen. This was yet the first part of her wake up call. The prospect of soon having a very tasty breakfast not only sharpened her taste buttons, but also distorted by loud Manu Chao music coming out of the kitchen: “Politik Kills, Politik Kills.” In hindsight, the singer must have had a premonition of the political state the country was in. Over 200 days day had gone by after election and the politicians still had not managed to form a new government. Obviously, Annie was getting side tracked as usual …

At least, by now, she was wide awake and ready for breakfast. She too noticed the exceptional weather: clear blue sky, lovely sunshine, no wind at all! Combined with the exquisite breakfast, the prospect of having a romantic picnic with her all time favourite person seemed more than tempting.

Annie loved the woods and their rich wildlife which was sort of unusual for the part of the country they lived in. After all who had the pleasure of having deer, ducks and squirrels wandering about the garden? Still, even Annie could be convinced to broaden her horizon…
At times, she could be reluctant to leave home when it was not strictly necessary. Why leave the premises when everything you need is at home, either in the house or in the garden?
Luckily Peter could be positively persuasive at times of need and fairy tale conditions.
What ever could go wrong on a day like this?

After having enjoyed their breakfast, Peter and Annie thoroughly prepared for the perfect picnic in the country: the food already being packed, Annie resorted to the basement where picnic blankets, air beds and other useful paraphernalia still were packed in boxes, since it had not been that long since they had moved into the country from the city… Considering the way they had moved into the house, she had little trouble finding everything back.
Peter and Annie loaded the picnic basket, blankets and some other things Annie decided to take just to be on the safe side, into the trunk of Annie’s car and set off for what looked to become a very promising day.

The drive was pleasant but not very long. Since they lived on the edge of the governmentally protected woods they did not need to drive very far into the woods in order to find a lovely spot for an unforgettable day. They unloaded the food and the blankets and set up the picnic.

Now nothing would be able to spoil the rest of their day. They had found just the perfect place to enjoy each other’s exclusive company. Not many of the local hikers knew of these woods because they used to belong to former army grounds forbidden to enter by civilians. Since the signs saying: “Do not trespass, army grounds”, had not been taken down yet, not many people knew which grounds were civilian and which were army territory.

This gave our young couple the opportunity to enjoy the immaculate scenery. Since they both had grown up in cities, there was much for them to discover! Sure, they had seen deer and duck in their garden, but the variety of birds they were able to spot, surpassed their wildest dreams … Jays were pretty rare and normally pretty shy. Here in the woods they did not seem rare nor shy for that matter. In the city they had not seen a common sparrow in ten years, yet here they seemed to feel completely at ease …

Oh well, what a perfect time to unpack! Peter spread the blanket on an emerald green spot of grass that just seemed to shine between the trees. Annie placed the basket right in the middle. They both gathered that nature could be just perfect at times. Just as they were about to start their open air brunch a gentle breeze conveniently cooled off the temperature which had been somewhat hot for this time of year.

Annie just loved steak tartare sandwiches and was taking the first bite as the gentle wind caught her hair. Peter stroked Annie’s hair as she turned her head, looking for her eyes to meet his. They both felt so lucky to have found each other 8 years before and had enjoyed each other’s company ever since. A perfect day in a perfect setting just seemingly increased their never ending happiness.

Peter stuck into the peanut butter sandwiches. This put a smile on Belgian Annie’s face: peanut butter sandwiches at times seemed to be like something as a Dutch national dish, just as French fries, steak and lettuce was the Belgian national dish… they used to tease each other about each other’s favourite cravings. Since Annie had been living in Belgium’s second city for over 40 years and knowing that this city bordered the Netherlands, it seemed strange that Peter, who had been living in a city about ten miles north of the Belgian – Dutch border, sometimes had difficulty adjusting to specific dishes. As a matter of fact, their difference in culinary preferences sometimes lead to the most hilarious situations. This day however, the proverbial storm seemed to have laid down and our couple was only enjoying the silence of nature. Of course there were those much appreciated interludiums of natural music made by virtuoso blackbirds, redbreasts, finches and various varieties of tits.

Hmm, tits … Peter somehow got sidetracked and since their surroundings seemed to be secluded why not leave Annie’s hair alone for a while and proceed further down? Annie giggled feeling Peter’s warm hands sliding between her open blouse …

Suddenly the prospect of making out in the middle of the woods seemed less tempting as it should have been: the gentle breeze suddenly had become somewhat chilly for the time of year. So far, there had not been a reason to worry though: Peter had been prescient enough to pack a tent too, which came in very handy at this precise moment.

Setting up a tent had never been a picnic for Peter, much to Annie’s amusement. This time his tireless efforts seemed to be even more laborious than they had been on previous occasions.

Observing Peter struggling with the miniature tent, made Annie laugh inside. To her the little spectacle resembled a scene of a silent slapstick movie … Clearly she was enjoying herself and Peter did not seem to mind at all. He knew Annie loved him for his witty mind and good looks and not for having two left hands.

Though he was aware of his natural clumsiness, Peter sensed there was a secondary reason for him struggling with the recalcitrant tent. He observed Annie searching for a sweater in the boot of her car. The wind had not only become chillier but also somewhat stronger. It was a good thing that Annie had brought some sweaters, light anoraks and even umbrellas.

Earlier in the day, Peter had made fun of Annie’s fears and consciousness of anything going wrong. At times, Annie could be quite phobic of things going wrong even if there was no reason to fret at all. Then again, who would have thought the weather would have turned the way it seemed to be doing now.

Even the animals instinctively took to their shelters. Yet our human friends could not figure out one reason why all of their furry and feathered friends suddenly decided to leave the party.

Well, there was no reason to panic, not yet … Even Peter had to admit that his beloved Annie’s pet peeves came in very handy. After eventually having set up the tent, he put on a sweater and put the umbrella in front of the entrance. Yes, he was proud of himself: at least they would be able to enjoy the outdoors picnic indoors. The air beds were easy to set up thanks to the pump Annie had managed to sneak into the back of the car … Had he known what she had been up to in the cellar earlier, he surely would have thought her to be a bit more than over cautious.

Now, he could only be grateful for his love’s foreseeing mind. Could she have had some of her premonitions? Nah, he did not hope for a premonition, because Annie’s premonitions usually had a tendency of someone dying in the near future or on the very moment. In the past, Annie’s premonitions had proved to be true on a few occasions too many.

For the moment, all they could think of was the cosiness of their provisory shelter. All of a sudden, the change of weather did not seem to matter any more. What could be more appealing than to be cuddled up to the love of your life in a small but well secured tent?
Peter felt like a teddy bear with Annie’s arms lovingly clenched around his tummy. She slid her fingers under his clothes in order to tickle his belly button which always in a ticklish sort of spasm … She could help but giggling, but for Peter this was the start of a very eerie feeling, yet he knew she liked to tease, so he decided to play along and search for a series of Annie’s more sensitive hotspots.

Being so tangled up with each other, the least you can say is that our couple was a little bit too preoccupied to be aware of what was going on outside at that very moment. Maybe this was for the best. After all, they were enjoying themselves… and had not noticed the wind was now thumping on their improvised front door. For all they heard at that moment was their hearts thumping passionately.

Last edited by alternativebe on August 8, 2011, 11:04 am

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