The painted tree north richland hills
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2012.08.10 21:27 icepigs DFW Beer - Where to find great beer in Dallas/Fort Worth
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2023.06.05 05:02 JoshAsdvgi The Men-Serpents
 | submitted by JoshAsdvgi to Native_Stories [link] [comments] The Men-Serpents Twenty warriors who had been on the war-path were returning homeward worn-out and hungry, and as they went they scattered in search of game to sustain them on their way. Suddenly one of the braves, placing his ear to the ground, declared that he could hear a herd of buffaloes approaching. The band was greatly cheered by this news, and the plans made by the chief to intercept the animals were quickly carried into effect. Nearer and nearer came the supposed herd. The chief lay very still, ready to shoot when it came within range. Suddenly he saw, to his horror, that what approached them was a huge snake with a rattle as large as a man's head. Though almost paralysed with surprise and terror, he managed to shoot the monster and kill it. He called up his men, who were not a little afraid of the gigantic creature, even though it was dead, and for a long time they debated what they should do with the carcass. At length hunger conquered their scruples and made them decide to cook and eat it. To their surprise, they found the meat as savoury as that of a buffalo, which it much resembled. All partook of the fare, with the exception of one boy, who persisted in refusing it, though they pressed him to eat. When the warriors had finished their meal they lay down beside the camp-fire and fell asleep. Later in the night the chief awoke and was horrified to find that his companions had turned to snakes, and that he himself was already half snake, half man. Hastily he gathered his transformed warriors, and they saw that the boy who had not eaten of the reptile had retained his own form. The boy, fearing that the serpents might attack him, began to weep, but the snake-warriors treated him very kindly, giving him their charms and all they possessed. At their request he put them into a large robe and carried them to the summit of a high hill, where he set them down under the trees. "You must return to our lodges," they told him, "and in the summer we will visit our kindred. See that our wives and children come out to greet us." The boy carried the news to his village, and there was much weeping and lamentation when the friends of the warriors heard of their fate. But in the summer the snakes came and sat in a group outside the village, and all the people crowded round them, loudly venting their grief. The horses which had belonged to the snakes were brought out to them, as well as their moccasins, leggings, whips, and saddles. "Do not be afraid of them," said the boy to the assembled people. "Do not flee from them, lest something happen to you also." So they let the snakes creep over them, and no harm befell. In the winter the snakes vanished altogether, and with them their horses and other possessions, and the people never saw them more. |
2023.06.05 04:27 dlschindler The Grave In The Green Belt
I ventured through the realm of the forgotten, a solitary wanderer treading the fringes of a world I could never truly call my own. Each step propelled me deeper into the heart of isolation, where extravagant condos belonging to the wealthy loomed on one side, and the impeccably groomed greens of an exclusive golf course stretched out on the other. Beyond was the sound, a channeled sea of islands and foggy weather. Sandwiched between them, an enigmatic patch of forest concealed its secrets, a barrier between opulence and the untamed.
A bone-chilling fog rolled in, veiling the nearby islands in an eerie cloak of mystery. The islands, silent and enigmatic, whispered their secrets to those who dared listen. But on this night, I had more immediate concerns that demanded my attention.
My footsteps led me towards what I knew was my path.
The forest itself seemed out of place, a remnant of untamed wilderness amidst the refined elegance of the condos and the pristine golf course. It was a forgotten corner of nature, hidden away from prying eyes, its secrets locked within its ancient trees and shadowy depths.
It was within this eerie thicket, nestled amidst the extravagant neighborhood and the tranquil sea adorned with fog-shrouded islands, that I stumbled upon a chilling discovery. Max, my loyal canine companion who had accompanied me on countless escapades, led me to a hidden grave. A heavy air of unease settled around us, and a shiver ran down my spine, for I realized I had inadvertently stepped into a dark and foreboding nightmare. Some nightmares are not cleared away in the morning light.
The forest floor was strewn with golf balls, their presence a strange incongruity against the backdrop of towering trees and decaying foliage. But it was the horror that awaited me that truly shattered any sense of normalcy. As Max began to unearth the enigma hidden beneath the earth, an ominous atmosphere descended upon our surroundings, setting the warming orchestra of my thoughts for a descent into madness.
Max began scratching at the ground, his paws kicking up small clouds of dirt. I watched him with trepidation, unsure of what he had stumbled upon. And then, the truth emerged amidst the chaos of his excavation. The forest floor, already littered with golf balls, revealed an even more unsettling sight—a skeletal hand, its bony fingers clutching a weathered club.
As Max continued to dig, my unease grew, and I could no longer ignore the foreboding sense that something terrible was about to unfold. Suddenly, a chorus of guttural voices pierced through the silence, their chilling tones mingling with the rustle of leaves and the distant crash of waves against the tranquil sea.
We huddled in the dense thicket, our hearts pounding against our ribcages like captive beasts. The air grew thick with fear and the stench of decay emanating from the newly discovered grave, just a few feet away. Max, his hackles raised, stood beside me, his eyes fixed on the abyss of the forest.
The feeling of being hunted made us hide, readied us to run. Somehow they knew that we had found their secret. Perhaps the hunters were as sensitive to fate as I.
The nightmare began with a hail of arrows, raining down from above like deadly specks of darkness. I dodged and weaved, desperately seeking cover from the onslaught. The masked men, their eyes burning with malevolence, closed in on me with flashlights in hand, casting grotesque shadows against the fog-laden trees.
A thrown bottle exploded at my feet, glass shattering and cutting into my flesh. The searing pain only fueled my adrenaline-fueled flight. The hunters pursued, their footsteps thundering behind me, accompanied by their mocking laughter and sadistic jeers.
Then, a gunshot shattered the night, its sound resonating through the forest. The other men shouted in anger, chastising the gunman for his recklessness. Chaos intensified, and I felt a tomahawk cartwheel past my ear, missing me by a hair's breadth.
In the midst of the chaos, my heart ached for Max. He had vanished into the depths of the woods, drawn away by something I couldn't fathom. I wanted to run, to escape the approaching vehicles and the hunters who sought to claim me, but I couldn't abandon my faithful companion.
Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes stretched into an agonizing eternity. The sound of vehicles grew louder, the hunters drawing closer. I was terrified and heartbroken, my mind torn between saving myself and waiting for Max.
Just as I was about to abandon hope, a shadow emerged from the gloom. It was Max, bounding toward me with a wagging tail and a glimmer of relief in his eyes. Tears of gratitude welled in my eyes as I called out to him, and he joined me, his presence reinforcing my resolve to flee this nightmarish pursuit.
With renewed determination, Max and I sprinted through the tangled underbrush, the relentless pursuit of the hunters driving us forward. Our hearts beat in sync as we raced against the encroaching darkness.
I followed Max, as he seemed to know the way - having run ahead and found our escape.
The forest seemed to conspire against us, its twisted branches reaching out like skeletal hands, ready to ensnare us in its malevolent embrace. The undergrowth became a treacherous obstacle course, threatening to trip us up with every step. But Max, ever the loyal companion, guided me through the labyrinth of shadows, his senses honed to navigate this haunting realm.
As we sprinted, our breaths ragged and desperate, the pursuing hunters closed in, their footsteps growing louder and more menacing. The sounds of their jeers and taunts echoed through the trees, a symphony of sadism that chilled me to the core.
Then, as if the forest itself decided to aid our escape, a hidden trail materialized before us. It beckoned, a sliver of hope cutting through the suffocating darkness. With no time to spare, we veered onto the path, our feet pounding against the earth, propelled by a surge of adrenaline.
The trail wound deeper into the heart of the forgotten forest, twisting and turning like a serpent, as if playing a wicked game with our pursuers. Shadows danced around us, their elongated forms whispering malevolent secrets. The air grew colder, biting into my skin, and an otherworldly hush settled over the land, as if the very essence of nature held its breath, aware of the horror unfolding within its domain.
A fog reached up from the cliffs as we ran under the open moonlight. We were exposed to our predators, yet the fog came and made us invisible to them. As we reached the other side of the cliffs and more forest, the seaside abandoned us and the fog retreated naturally.
As we raced along the path, the distant sound of crashing waves began to fade, replaced by an eerie silence broken only by the haunting calls of nocturnal creatures. Fear and exhaustion threatened to overtake us, but the thought of what awaited us at the hands of the hunters fueled our determination.
The path abruptly opened up into a clearing, bathed in an ethereal glow. Moonlight filtered through a gap in the dense foliage, casting an otherworldly radiance on a weathered stone structure that stood at the clearing's center. It was a forgotten shrine, forgotten by time and those who once paid homage to its mysterious deity.
A surge of both trepidation and desperate hope coursed through me as I realized that this shrine might hold the key to our salvation. With no time to second-guess, we approached the ancient structure, its moss-covered stones seemingly pulsating with an unknown energy.
As I stepped onto the sacred ground, an unsettling stillness fell over the clearing. Max's hackles rose, his gaze fixated on the shrine's mossy entrance. A primal instinct warned us of the ancient forces at play, but we had come too far to turn back.
Summoning all the courage within me, I pushed open the heavy stone door, revealing a chamber shrouded in darkness. A chill wind swept through the entrance, carrying whispers of forgotten incantations and the scent of decay.
With hesitant steps, we ventured into the unknown depths of the shrine, our hearts pounding in our chests. The walls seemed to close in, suffocating us with a weighty anticipation. The air grew dense with an ancient power, the residue of rituals long forgotten.
A dim light flickered at the center of the chamber, drawing us closer like moths to a flame. We stood trembling, almost forgetting our dire escape. Max began a low growl that broke into a frightened whine.
From the depths of the chamber, a haunting wail erupted, resonating with the agony of centuries past. Shadows coalesced into a towering figure, its eyes blazing with an otherworldly fire. It was the wrathful spirit of the forest itself, determined to protect its secrets at any cost.
Max barked, a valiant act of defiance in the face of an unstoppable force. I stood my ground, clutching my pack, and mustered all the courage I had left. In a trembling voice, I spoke words of remorse and reverence, offering appeasement to the vengeful spirit.
"We're drawn here...to see the grave...to escape its makers."
A hush fell over the chamber as the deity listened, its wrath subsiding, if only momentarily. In a voice that echoed through my mind, it issued a warning—a warning to never return to this forsaken realm, to leave the secrets of the forgotten forest buried in the past.
It wasn't in words, it was just a feeling. I knew what it wanted, and so did Max. It had made itself clear. It would spare us only if we abandoned our trespasses.
With a final glance back at the shrine, Max and I fled, propelled by a newfound urgency. The pursuing hunters were nowhere to be seen, as if swallowed by the very darkness they sought to unleash upon us.
As we emerged from the clutches of the haunted forest, the first rays of morning painted the sky, casting a golden hue upon our weary faces. We had escaped the clutches of the forgotten, forever marked by the consequences of horror that we had personally experienced.
submitted by dlschindler to Wholesomenosleep [link] [comments]
A bone-chilling fog rolled in, veiling the nearby islands in an eerie cloak of mystery. The islands, silent and enigmatic, whispered their secrets to those who dared listen. But on this night, I had more immediate concerns that demanded my attention.
My footsteps led me towards what I knew was my path.
The forest itself seemed out of place, a remnant of untamed wilderness amidst the refined elegance of the condos and the pristine golf course. It was a forgotten corner of nature, hidden away from prying eyes, its secrets locked within its ancient trees and shadowy depths.
It was within this eerie thicket, nestled amidst the extravagant neighborhood and the tranquil sea adorned with fog-shrouded islands, that I stumbled upon a chilling discovery. Max, my loyal canine companion who had accompanied me on countless escapades, led me to a hidden grave. A heavy air of unease settled around us, and a shiver ran down my spine, for I realized I had inadvertently stepped into a dark and foreboding nightmare. Some nightmares are not cleared away in the morning light.
The forest floor was strewn with golf balls, their presence a strange incongruity against the backdrop of towering trees and decaying foliage. But it was the horror that awaited me that truly shattered any sense of normalcy. As Max began to unearth the enigma hidden beneath the earth, an ominous atmosphere descended upon our surroundings, setting the warming orchestra of my thoughts for a descent into madness.
Max began scratching at the ground, his paws kicking up small clouds of dirt. I watched him with trepidation, unsure of what he had stumbled upon. And then, the truth emerged amidst the chaos of his excavation. The forest floor, already littered with golf balls, revealed an even more unsettling sight—a skeletal hand, its bony fingers clutching a weathered club.
As Max continued to dig, my unease grew, and I could no longer ignore the foreboding sense that something terrible was about to unfold. Suddenly, a chorus of guttural voices pierced through the silence, their chilling tones mingling with the rustle of leaves and the distant crash of waves against the tranquil sea.
We huddled in the dense thicket, our hearts pounding against our ribcages like captive beasts. The air grew thick with fear and the stench of decay emanating from the newly discovered grave, just a few feet away. Max, his hackles raised, stood beside me, his eyes fixed on the abyss of the forest.
The feeling of being hunted made us hide, readied us to run. Somehow they knew that we had found their secret. Perhaps the hunters were as sensitive to fate as I.
The nightmare began with a hail of arrows, raining down from above like deadly specks of darkness. I dodged and weaved, desperately seeking cover from the onslaught. The masked men, their eyes burning with malevolence, closed in on me with flashlights in hand, casting grotesque shadows against the fog-laden trees.
A thrown bottle exploded at my feet, glass shattering and cutting into my flesh. The searing pain only fueled my adrenaline-fueled flight. The hunters pursued, their footsteps thundering behind me, accompanied by their mocking laughter and sadistic jeers.
Then, a gunshot shattered the night, its sound resonating through the forest. The other men shouted in anger, chastising the gunman for his recklessness. Chaos intensified, and I felt a tomahawk cartwheel past my ear, missing me by a hair's breadth.
In the midst of the chaos, my heart ached for Max. He had vanished into the depths of the woods, drawn away by something I couldn't fathom. I wanted to run, to escape the approaching vehicles and the hunters who sought to claim me, but I couldn't abandon my faithful companion.
Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes stretched into an agonizing eternity. The sound of vehicles grew louder, the hunters drawing closer. I was terrified and heartbroken, my mind torn between saving myself and waiting for Max.
Just as I was about to abandon hope, a shadow emerged from the gloom. It was Max, bounding toward me with a wagging tail and a glimmer of relief in his eyes. Tears of gratitude welled in my eyes as I called out to him, and he joined me, his presence reinforcing my resolve to flee this nightmarish pursuit.
With renewed determination, Max and I sprinted through the tangled underbrush, the relentless pursuit of the hunters driving us forward. Our hearts beat in sync as we raced against the encroaching darkness.
I followed Max, as he seemed to know the way - having run ahead and found our escape.
The forest seemed to conspire against us, its twisted branches reaching out like skeletal hands, ready to ensnare us in its malevolent embrace. The undergrowth became a treacherous obstacle course, threatening to trip us up with every step. But Max, ever the loyal companion, guided me through the labyrinth of shadows, his senses honed to navigate this haunting realm.
As we sprinted, our breaths ragged and desperate, the pursuing hunters closed in, their footsteps growing louder and more menacing. The sounds of their jeers and taunts echoed through the trees, a symphony of sadism that chilled me to the core.
Then, as if the forest itself decided to aid our escape, a hidden trail materialized before us. It beckoned, a sliver of hope cutting through the suffocating darkness. With no time to spare, we veered onto the path, our feet pounding against the earth, propelled by a surge of adrenaline.
The trail wound deeper into the heart of the forgotten forest, twisting and turning like a serpent, as if playing a wicked game with our pursuers. Shadows danced around us, their elongated forms whispering malevolent secrets. The air grew colder, biting into my skin, and an otherworldly hush settled over the land, as if the very essence of nature held its breath, aware of the horror unfolding within its domain.
A fog reached up from the cliffs as we ran under the open moonlight. We were exposed to our predators, yet the fog came and made us invisible to them. As we reached the other side of the cliffs and more forest, the seaside abandoned us and the fog retreated naturally.
As we raced along the path, the distant sound of crashing waves began to fade, replaced by an eerie silence broken only by the haunting calls of nocturnal creatures. Fear and exhaustion threatened to overtake us, but the thought of what awaited us at the hands of the hunters fueled our determination.
The path abruptly opened up into a clearing, bathed in an ethereal glow. Moonlight filtered through a gap in the dense foliage, casting an otherworldly radiance on a weathered stone structure that stood at the clearing's center. It was a forgotten shrine, forgotten by time and those who once paid homage to its mysterious deity.
A surge of both trepidation and desperate hope coursed through me as I realized that this shrine might hold the key to our salvation. With no time to second-guess, we approached the ancient structure, its moss-covered stones seemingly pulsating with an unknown energy.
As I stepped onto the sacred ground, an unsettling stillness fell over the clearing. Max's hackles rose, his gaze fixated on the shrine's mossy entrance. A primal instinct warned us of the ancient forces at play, but we had come too far to turn back.
Summoning all the courage within me, I pushed open the heavy stone door, revealing a chamber shrouded in darkness. A chill wind swept through the entrance, carrying whispers of forgotten incantations and the scent of decay.
With hesitant steps, we ventured into the unknown depths of the shrine, our hearts pounding in our chests. The walls seemed to close in, suffocating us with a weighty anticipation. The air grew dense with an ancient power, the residue of rituals long forgotten.
A dim light flickered at the center of the chamber, drawing us closer like moths to a flame. We stood trembling, almost forgetting our dire escape. Max began a low growl that broke into a frightened whine.
From the depths of the chamber, a haunting wail erupted, resonating with the agony of centuries past. Shadows coalesced into a towering figure, its eyes blazing with an otherworldly fire. It was the wrathful spirit of the forest itself, determined to protect its secrets at any cost.
Max barked, a valiant act of defiance in the face of an unstoppable force. I stood my ground, clutching my pack, and mustered all the courage I had left. In a trembling voice, I spoke words of remorse and reverence, offering appeasement to the vengeful spirit.
"We're drawn here...to see the grave...to escape its makers."
A hush fell over the chamber as the deity listened, its wrath subsiding, if only momentarily. In a voice that echoed through my mind, it issued a warning—a warning to never return to this forsaken realm, to leave the secrets of the forgotten forest buried in the past.
It wasn't in words, it was just a feeling. I knew what it wanted, and so did Max. It had made itself clear. It would spare us only if we abandoned our trespasses.
With a final glance back at the shrine, Max and I fled, propelled by a newfound urgency. The pursuing hunters were nowhere to be seen, as if swallowed by the very darkness they sought to unleash upon us.
As we emerged from the clutches of the haunted forest, the first rays of morning painted the sky, casting a golden hue upon our weary faces. We had escaped the clutches of the forgotten, forever marked by the consequences of horror that we had personally experienced.
2023.06.05 04:26 Tangou-888 The Hoax Story of Remarkable Testimony of a Buddhist monk in Myanmar (Burma) (Part I)
The Hoax Story of Remarkable Testimony of a Buddhist monk in Myanmar (Burma) who came back to life a changed man!
Introduction The story that follows is simply a translation of a taped testimony from a man with a life-changing story. It is not an interview or a biography, but simply the words from the man himself. Different people react in different ways when they hear this story. Some are inspired, some skeptical, a few will mock and ridicule, while some others have even been filled with rage and anger, convinced these words are the ravings of a mad man or an elaborate deception. Some Christians have opposed the story simply because the radical and miraculous events described herein do not fit their feeble image of an Almighty God.
We were first made aware of this story from several Burmese church leaders who shared it with us. These leaders had looked into the story and had not found any suggestion of it being a hoax. It was with this in mind that we decided to step out and circulate the story. We do not do so for any monetary gain, or with a motivation of self-promotion. We just want to let the story speak for itself, and invite Christian believers to judge it according to Scripture. If God wants any part of it to be intended for His glory or to encourage His people, then we pray His Spirit will work in the hearts of the readers in those ways.
Some people have told us they think the monk in this story never actually died, but that he just lapsed into unconsciousness, and the things he saw and heard were part of a fever-driven hallucination. Whatever you think, the simple fact remains that the events of this story so radically transformed this man that his life took on a complete 180-degree shift after the events described below. He has fearlessly and boldly told his story at great personal cost, including imprisonment. He has been scorned by his relatives, friends and colleagues, and faced death threats for his unwillingness to compromise his message. What motivated this man to be willing to risk everything? Whether we believe him or not, his story is surely worth listening to and considering. In the cynical West many people demand hard evidence of such things, evidence that would stand up in a court of law. Can we absolutely guarantee, beyond doubt, that all of these things happened? No, we cannot. But we feel it is worth repeating this man's story in his own words so that readers can judge for themselves.
My Early Years Hello! My name is Athet Pyan Shinthaw Paulu. I am from the country of Myanmar. I would like to share with you my testimony of what happened to me, but first I would like to give some brief background information from my life growing up.
I was born in 1958 in the town of Bogale, on the Irrawaddy Delta area of southern Myanmar [formerly Burma]. My parents, who were devout Buddhists like most people in Myanmar, named me Thitpin [which means 'tree' in English]. Our lives were very simple where I grew up. At the age of 13 I left school and started working on a fishing boat. We caught fish and sometimes also shrimp from the numerous rivers and streams in the Irrawaddy area. At the age of 16 I became the leader of the boat. At this time I lived in Upper Mainmahlagyon Island [Mainmahlagyon means 'Beautiful Woman Island' in English], just north of Bogale where I was born. This place is about 100 miles southwest of Yangon [Rangoon], our nation's capitol city.
One day, when I was 17, we caught a large number of fish in our nets. Because of the many fish, a large crocodile was attracted to us. It followed our boat and tried to attack us. We were terrified so we frantically rowed our boats toward the riverbank as fast as we could. The crocodile followed us and smashed our boat with its tail. Although no one died in this incident, the attack greatly affected my life. I no longer wanted to fish. Our small boat sank because of the crocodile attack. We had to go home to our village that night on a passenger boat.
Not long after, his employers transferred my father to Yangon City [formerly spelt Rangoon]. At the age of 18 I was sent to a Buddhist monastery to be a novice monk. Most parents in Myanmar try to send their son into a Buddhist monastery, at least for a time, as it is considered a great honor to have a son serve in this way. We have been observing this custom for many hundreds of years.
A Zealous Disciple of Buddha When I turned 19 years and 3 months old (in 1977), I became a normal monk. The senior monk at my monastery gave me a new Buddhist name, which is the custom in our country. I was now called U Nata Pannita Ashinthuriya. When we become a monk we no longer use the name given to us at birth by our parents. The name of the monastery I lived at is called Mandalay Kyaikasan Kyaing. The senior monk's name was called U Zadila Kyar Ni Kan Sayadaw [U Zadila is his title]. He was the most famous Buddhist monk in all of Myanmar at the time. Everyone knew who he was. He was widely honored by the people and respected as a great teacher. I say he "was" because in 1983 he suddenly died when he was involved in a fatal car accident. His death shocked everyone. At the time I had been a monk for six years.
I tried hard to be the best monk I could and to follow all the precepts of Buddhism. At one stage I moved to a cemetery where I lived and meditated continually. Some monks who really want to know the truths of Buddha do things like I did. Some move deep into the forests where they live a life of self-denial and poverty. I sought to deny my selfish thoughts and desires, to escape from sickness and suffering and to break free from the cycle of this world. At the cemetery I was not afraid of ghosts. I tried to attain such inner peace and self-realization that even when a mosquito landed on my arm I would let it bite me instead of brushing it off!
For years I strived to be the best monk I could and not to harm any living being. I studied the holy Buddhist teachings just like all my forefathers had done before me.
My life proceeded as a monk until I got very, very sick. I was in Mandalay at the time and had to be taken to the hospital for treatment. The doctors did some tests on me and told me I had both Yellow Fever and malaria at the same time! After about one month in the hospital I was getting worse. The doctors told me there was no chance for me to recover and discharged me to make arrangements to die.
This is a brief description of my past. I would now like to tell you some of the remarkable things that happened to me after this times...
A Vision that Changed My Life Forever After I was discharged from the hospital I went back to the monastery where other monks cared for me. I grew weaker and weaker and was lapsing into unconsciousness. I learned later that I actually died for three days. My body decayed and stunk of death, and my heart stopped beating. My body was prepared for cremation and was put through traditional Buddhist purification rites.
Although I faded away in my body I remember my mind and spirit were fully alert. I was in a very, very powerful storm. A tremendous wind flattened the whole landscape until there were no trees or anything else standing, just a flat plain. I walked very fast along this plain for some time. There were no other people anywhere, I was all alone. After some time I crossed a river. On the other side of the river I saw a terrible, terrible lake of fire. In Buddhism we do not have a concept of a place like this. At first I was confused and didn't know it was hell until I saw Yama, the king of hell [Yama is the name ascribed to the King of Hell in numerous cultures throughout Asia]. His face looked like the face of a lion, his body was like a lion, but his legs were like a naga [serpent spirit]. He had a number of horns on his head. His face was very fierce, and I was extremely afraid. Trembling, I asked him his name. He replied, "I am the king of hell, the Destroyer."
The terrible, terrible lake of fire The king of hell told me to look into the lake of fire. I looked and I saw the saffron colored robes that Buddhist monks wear in Myanmar. I looked closer and saw the shaven head of a man. When I looked at the man's face I saw it was U Zadila Kyar Ni Kan Sayadaw [the famous monk who had died in a car accident in 1983]. I asked the king of hell why my former leader was confined to this lake of torment. I said, "Why is he in this lake of fire? He was a very good teacher. He even had a teaching tape called 'Are You a Man or a Dog?' which had helped thousands of people understand that their worth as humans is far greater than the animals." The king of hell replied, "Yes, he was a good teacher but he did not believe in Jesus Christ. That's why he is in hell."
I was told to look at another person who was in the fire. I saw a man with very long hair wrapped on the left hand side of his head. He was also wearing a robe. I asked the king of hell, "Who is this man?" He replied, "This is the one you worship: Gautama [Buddha]."
I was very disturbed to see Gautama in hell. I protested, "Gautama had good ethnics and good moral character, why is he suffering in this lake of fire?" The king of hell answered me, "It doesn't matter how good he was. He is in this place because he did not believe in the Eternal God."
I then saw another man who looked like he was wearing a soldier's uniform. He had a large wound on his chest. I asked, "Who is this man?" The king of hell said, "This is Aung San, the revolutionary leader of Myanmar." I was told, "Aung San is here because he persecuted and killed Christians, but mostly because he didn't believe in Jesus Christ." In Myanmar the people have a common saying, "Soldiers never die, they live on." I was told that the legions of hell have a saying "Soldiers never die, but they go to hell forever."
I looked and saw another man in the lake of fire. He was a very tall man and he was dressed in military armor. He was also holding a sword and a shield. This man had a wound on his forehead. This man was taller than any person I have ever seen. He was six times the length between a man's elbow and the tips of his fingers when he stretches his arm out straight, plus one span of a man's fingers when he spreads out his hand. The king of hell said, "This man's name is Goliath. He is in hell because he blasphemed the Eternal God and His servant David." I was confused because I didn't know who either Goliath or David were. The king of hell said, "Goliath is recorded in the Christian Bible. You don't know him now, but when you become a Christian you will know who he is."
I was then taken to a place where I saw both rich and poor people preparing to eat their evening meals. I asked, "Who cooked the food for these people?" The king of hell replied, "The poor have to prepare their own food, but the rich people get others to cook for them." When the food had been prepared for the rich people they sat down to eat. As soon as they started a thick smoke came up. The rich people ate as fast as they could to ease their consciences. They were struggling to breath because of the smoke. They had to eat fast because they were fearful of losing their money. Their money is their god.
Another king of hell then came to me. I also saw a being whose job is to stoke the fires beneath the lake of fire, to keep it hot. This being asked me, "Are you going into the lake of fire too?" I replied, "No! I am only here to observe!" The appearance of this creature stoking the fire was very terrifying. He had ten horns on his head and a spear in his hand that had seven sharp blades coming from the end. The creature told me, "You are right. You came here just to observe. I cannot find your name here." He said, "You must now go back the way you came." He pointed me toward the desolate plain that I had first walked along before I came to the lake of fire.
The Road of Decision I walked a long time, until I was bleeding. I was hot and in great pain. Finally, after walking for about three hours I came to a wide road. I walked along this road for some time until I came to a fork. One road, going off to the left, was wide. A smaller road went off to the right hand side. There was a signpost at the fork saying that the road to the left was for those who do not believe in the Lord Jesus Christ. The smaller road to the right was for believers in Jesus.
I was interested to see where the larger road led so I started down it. There were two men walking about 300 yards ahead of me. I tried to catch up with them so I could walk with them but no matter how hard I tried I couldn't catch them up, so I turned around and went back to the fork in the road. I continued to watch these two men as they walked down the road away from me. When they reached the end of the road they were suddenly stabbed. These two men cried out in great pain! I also cried out when I saw what happened to them! I realized the bigger road ended in great danger for those who traveled down it.
Looking into Heaven I started walking down the believers' road instead. After traveling for about one hour the surface of the road turned to pure gold. It was so pure that when I looked down I could see my own reflection perfectly. I then saw a man standing in front of me. He was wearing a white robe. I also heard beautiful singing. Oh, it was so beautiful and pure! It was much better and more meaningful than the worship we have in churches here on the earth. The man in the white robe asked me to walk with him. I asked him, "What is your name?" but he did not answer. After I asked his name six times the man answered, "I am the one who holds the key to heaven. Heaven is a very, very beautiful place. You cannot go there now but if you follow Jesus Christ you can go there after your life has finished on the earth." The man's name was Peter.
Peter then asked me to sit down and he showed me a place to the north. Peter said, "Look to the north and see God create man." I saw the Eternal God from a distance. God spoke to an angel, "Let us make man." The angel pleaded with God and said, "Please don't make man. He will do wrong and will grieve you." [In Burmese literally: "He will make you lose face."]. But God created a man named anyway. God blew on the man and the man came to life. He gave him the name "Adam". [Note: Buddhists do not believe in the Creation of the world or of man, so this experience had a significant impact on the monk].
Sent Back with a New Name Then Peter said, "Now get up and go back to where you came from. Speak to the people who worship Buddha and who worship idols. Tell them they must go to hell if they don't change. Those who build temples and idols will also have to go to hell. Those who give offerings to the monks to earn merit for themselves with go to hell. All those who pray to the monks and call them 'Pra' [respectful title for monks] will go to hell. Those who chant and 'give life' to idols will go to hell. All those who don't believe in Jesus Christ will go to hell." Peter told me to go back to the earth and testify about the things I had seen. He also said, "You must speak in your new name. From now on you are to be called Athet Pyan Shinthaw Paulu ["Paul who Came Back to Life."].
I didn't want to go back. I wanted to go to heaven. Angels opened a book. First they looked for my childhood name (Thitpin) in the book, but they could not find it. They then looked for the name I had been given when he entered the Buddhist monk hood (U Nata Pannita Ashinthuriya) but it wasn't written in the book either. Then Peter said, "Your name is not written here, you must return and testify about Jesus to the Buddhist people."
I walked back along the gold road. Again I heard beautiful singing, the kind of which I have never heard before or since. Peter walked with me until the time I returned to the earth. He showed me a ladder that reached down from the heaven to the sky. The ladder didn't reach to the earth, but stopped in mid-air. On the ladder I saw many angels, some going up to heaven and some going down the ladder. They were very busy. I asked Peter, "Who are they?" Peter answered, "They are messengers of God. They are reporting to heaven the names of all those who believe in Jesus Christ and the names of those who don't believe." Peter then told me it was time to go back.
It is a Ghost! The next thing I was aware of was the sound of weeping. I heard my own mother cry out, "My son, why did you leave us now?" I also heard many other people weeping. I realized I was lying in a box. I started to move. My mother and father started shouting, "He is alive! He is alive!" Other people who were farther away did not believe my parents. I then placed my hands on the sides of the box and sat upright. Many people were struck with terror. They cried out, "It is a ghost!" and ran away as fast as their legs could carry them.
Those who remained were speechless and trembling. I noticed I was sitting in smelly liquid and body fluids, enough to fill about three and a half cups. This was liquid that had come out of my stomach and my insides while my body was lying in the coffin. This is why people knew I had indeed been dead. Inside the coffin there was a type of plastic sheet fixed to the wood. This sheet is placed there to retain a corpse's liquids, because many dead bodies release much fluid like mine did.
I learned later that I was just moments away from being cremated in the flames. In Myanmar people are placed in a coffin, the lid is then nailed shut, and the whole coffin is burned. When I came back to life my mother and father were being allowed to look at my body for the very last time. Moments later the lid of my coffin would have been nailed shut and I would have been cremated!
I immediately started to explain the things I had seen and heard. People were astonished. I told them about the men I had seen in the lake of fire, and told them that only the Christians know the truth, that our forefathers and us have been deceived for thousands of years! I told them everything we believe is a lie. The people were astonished because they knew what kind of a monk I had been and how zealous I had been for the teachings of Buddha.
In Myanmar when a person dies their name and age is written on the side of the coffin. When a monk dies, the monk's name, age and the number of years he has served as a monk are written on the side of the coffin. I had already been recorded as dead but as you can see, now I am alive!
Epilogue Since 'Paul who came back to life' experienced the above story he has remained a faithful witness to the Lord Jesus Christ. Burmese pastors have told us that he had led hundreds of other monks to faith in Christ. His testimony is obviously very uncompromising. Because of that, his message has offended many people who cannot accept there is only one Way to Heaven, the Lord Jesus Christ. Despite great opposition, his experiences were so real to him that he has not wavered. After many years in the Buddhist monk hood, as a strict follower of Buddhist teachings, he immediately proclaimed the Gospel of Christ following his resurrection and exhorted other monks to forsake all false gods and follow Jesus Christ with all their hearts. Before the time of his sickness and death he had no exposure to Christianity at all. Everything he learned during those three days in the grave was new to his mind.
In a bid to get his message out to as many people as possible, this modern-day Lazarus began distributing audio and video cassette tapes with his story on them. The police and Buddhist authorities in Myanmar have done their utmost to gather these tapes up and destroy them. The testimony you have just read has been translated form one of those cassette tapes. We are told it is now quite dangerous for citizens of Myanmar to be in possession of these tapes.
His fearless testimony has landed him in prison at least once, where the authorities failed in their bid to silence him. Upon his release he continued to testify of the things he saw and heard. His current whereabouts are uncertain. One Burmese informant told us he is prison and may have been killed, while another informant was told he is now released from prison and is continuing his ministry.
Translated by: Asian Minorities Outreach P.O.Box 901 Palestine, TX 75802 U.S.A. E-Mail: monkst... u/yahoo.com Website: http://www.antioch.com.sg/mission/asianmo
________________________
Dear Triplegem Members, The following message was posted to the NDE.com Website by someone called 'James' on 23rd July, 2000. (NDE = Near Death Experience). The Monk's story is identical. But the source is different. Details can be viewed at
<>
The message began with: "Buddhist Monk visits Hell" I believe this person died, body decay & rotten. He was then brought to those places by the LORD to show him some vision. <-------
This is taken from a mission paper "Northside Missions Update" Northside Christian Centre 31-61 McLeans Road Bundoora Victoria 3083 Australia
The same 'Monk's Story' followed. Then, exchange of interesting messages took place at the NDE.com Bulletin Board among NDE regulars, some of them are Christians, and finally, someone called 'Melvin', 'a Myanmar Buddhist', posted the following message and the discussion came to a close.
The fact that the same story has re-surfaced in another form (cassette), perhaps in a another country is a bit disturbing!
Best wishes to all our Triplegem members, MM Lwin
...................................................................
submitted by Tangou-888 to TBSDaoismVajrayana [link] [comments]
Introduction The story that follows is simply a translation of a taped testimony from a man with a life-changing story. It is not an interview or a biography, but simply the words from the man himself. Different people react in different ways when they hear this story. Some are inspired, some skeptical, a few will mock and ridicule, while some others have even been filled with rage and anger, convinced these words are the ravings of a mad man or an elaborate deception. Some Christians have opposed the story simply because the radical and miraculous events described herein do not fit their feeble image of an Almighty God.
We were first made aware of this story from several Burmese church leaders who shared it with us. These leaders had looked into the story and had not found any suggestion of it being a hoax. It was with this in mind that we decided to step out and circulate the story. We do not do so for any monetary gain, or with a motivation of self-promotion. We just want to let the story speak for itself, and invite Christian believers to judge it according to Scripture. If God wants any part of it to be intended for His glory or to encourage His people, then we pray His Spirit will work in the hearts of the readers in those ways.
Some people have told us they think the monk in this story never actually died, but that he just lapsed into unconsciousness, and the things he saw and heard were part of a fever-driven hallucination. Whatever you think, the simple fact remains that the events of this story so radically transformed this man that his life took on a complete 180-degree shift after the events described below. He has fearlessly and boldly told his story at great personal cost, including imprisonment. He has been scorned by his relatives, friends and colleagues, and faced death threats for his unwillingness to compromise his message. What motivated this man to be willing to risk everything? Whether we believe him or not, his story is surely worth listening to and considering. In the cynical West many people demand hard evidence of such things, evidence that would stand up in a court of law. Can we absolutely guarantee, beyond doubt, that all of these things happened? No, we cannot. But we feel it is worth repeating this man's story in his own words so that readers can judge for themselves.
My Early Years Hello! My name is Athet Pyan Shinthaw Paulu. I am from the country of Myanmar. I would like to share with you my testimony of what happened to me, but first I would like to give some brief background information from my life growing up.
I was born in 1958 in the town of Bogale, on the Irrawaddy Delta area of southern Myanmar [formerly Burma]. My parents, who were devout Buddhists like most people in Myanmar, named me Thitpin [which means 'tree' in English]. Our lives were very simple where I grew up. At the age of 13 I left school and started working on a fishing boat. We caught fish and sometimes also shrimp from the numerous rivers and streams in the Irrawaddy area. At the age of 16 I became the leader of the boat. At this time I lived in Upper Mainmahlagyon Island [Mainmahlagyon means 'Beautiful Woman Island' in English], just north of Bogale where I was born. This place is about 100 miles southwest of Yangon [Rangoon], our nation's capitol city.
One day, when I was 17, we caught a large number of fish in our nets. Because of the many fish, a large crocodile was attracted to us. It followed our boat and tried to attack us. We were terrified so we frantically rowed our boats toward the riverbank as fast as we could. The crocodile followed us and smashed our boat with its tail. Although no one died in this incident, the attack greatly affected my life. I no longer wanted to fish. Our small boat sank because of the crocodile attack. We had to go home to our village that night on a passenger boat.
Not long after, his employers transferred my father to Yangon City [formerly spelt Rangoon]. At the age of 18 I was sent to a Buddhist monastery to be a novice monk. Most parents in Myanmar try to send their son into a Buddhist monastery, at least for a time, as it is considered a great honor to have a son serve in this way. We have been observing this custom for many hundreds of years.
A Zealous Disciple of Buddha When I turned 19 years and 3 months old (in 1977), I became a normal monk. The senior monk at my monastery gave me a new Buddhist name, which is the custom in our country. I was now called U Nata Pannita Ashinthuriya. When we become a monk we no longer use the name given to us at birth by our parents. The name of the monastery I lived at is called Mandalay Kyaikasan Kyaing. The senior monk's name was called U Zadila Kyar Ni Kan Sayadaw [U Zadila is his title]. He was the most famous Buddhist monk in all of Myanmar at the time. Everyone knew who he was. He was widely honored by the people and respected as a great teacher. I say he "was" because in 1983 he suddenly died when he was involved in a fatal car accident. His death shocked everyone. At the time I had been a monk for six years.
I tried hard to be the best monk I could and to follow all the precepts of Buddhism. At one stage I moved to a cemetery where I lived and meditated continually. Some monks who really want to know the truths of Buddha do things like I did. Some move deep into the forests where they live a life of self-denial and poverty. I sought to deny my selfish thoughts and desires, to escape from sickness and suffering and to break free from the cycle of this world. At the cemetery I was not afraid of ghosts. I tried to attain such inner peace and self-realization that even when a mosquito landed on my arm I would let it bite me instead of brushing it off!
For years I strived to be the best monk I could and not to harm any living being. I studied the holy Buddhist teachings just like all my forefathers had done before me.
My life proceeded as a monk until I got very, very sick. I was in Mandalay at the time and had to be taken to the hospital for treatment. The doctors did some tests on me and told me I had both Yellow Fever and malaria at the same time! After about one month in the hospital I was getting worse. The doctors told me there was no chance for me to recover and discharged me to make arrangements to die.
This is a brief description of my past. I would now like to tell you some of the remarkable things that happened to me after this times...
A Vision that Changed My Life Forever After I was discharged from the hospital I went back to the monastery where other monks cared for me. I grew weaker and weaker and was lapsing into unconsciousness. I learned later that I actually died for three days. My body decayed and stunk of death, and my heart stopped beating. My body was prepared for cremation and was put through traditional Buddhist purification rites.
Although I faded away in my body I remember my mind and spirit were fully alert. I was in a very, very powerful storm. A tremendous wind flattened the whole landscape until there were no trees or anything else standing, just a flat plain. I walked very fast along this plain for some time. There were no other people anywhere, I was all alone. After some time I crossed a river. On the other side of the river I saw a terrible, terrible lake of fire. In Buddhism we do not have a concept of a place like this. At first I was confused and didn't know it was hell until I saw Yama, the king of hell [Yama is the name ascribed to the King of Hell in numerous cultures throughout Asia]. His face looked like the face of a lion, his body was like a lion, but his legs were like a naga [serpent spirit]. He had a number of horns on his head. His face was very fierce, and I was extremely afraid. Trembling, I asked him his name. He replied, "I am the king of hell, the Destroyer."
The terrible, terrible lake of fire The king of hell told me to look into the lake of fire. I looked and I saw the saffron colored robes that Buddhist monks wear in Myanmar. I looked closer and saw the shaven head of a man. When I looked at the man's face I saw it was U Zadila Kyar Ni Kan Sayadaw [the famous monk who had died in a car accident in 1983]. I asked the king of hell why my former leader was confined to this lake of torment. I said, "Why is he in this lake of fire? He was a very good teacher. He even had a teaching tape called 'Are You a Man or a Dog?' which had helped thousands of people understand that their worth as humans is far greater than the animals." The king of hell replied, "Yes, he was a good teacher but he did not believe in Jesus Christ. That's why he is in hell."
I was told to look at another person who was in the fire. I saw a man with very long hair wrapped on the left hand side of his head. He was also wearing a robe. I asked the king of hell, "Who is this man?" He replied, "This is the one you worship: Gautama [Buddha]."
I was very disturbed to see Gautama in hell. I protested, "Gautama had good ethnics and good moral character, why is he suffering in this lake of fire?" The king of hell answered me, "It doesn't matter how good he was. He is in this place because he did not believe in the Eternal God."
I then saw another man who looked like he was wearing a soldier's uniform. He had a large wound on his chest. I asked, "Who is this man?" The king of hell said, "This is Aung San, the revolutionary leader of Myanmar." I was told, "Aung San is here because he persecuted and killed Christians, but mostly because he didn't believe in Jesus Christ." In Myanmar the people have a common saying, "Soldiers never die, they live on." I was told that the legions of hell have a saying "Soldiers never die, but they go to hell forever."
I looked and saw another man in the lake of fire. He was a very tall man and he was dressed in military armor. He was also holding a sword and a shield. This man had a wound on his forehead. This man was taller than any person I have ever seen. He was six times the length between a man's elbow and the tips of his fingers when he stretches his arm out straight, plus one span of a man's fingers when he spreads out his hand. The king of hell said, "This man's name is Goliath. He is in hell because he blasphemed the Eternal God and His servant David." I was confused because I didn't know who either Goliath or David were. The king of hell said, "Goliath is recorded in the Christian Bible. You don't know him now, but when you become a Christian you will know who he is."
I was then taken to a place where I saw both rich and poor people preparing to eat their evening meals. I asked, "Who cooked the food for these people?" The king of hell replied, "The poor have to prepare their own food, but the rich people get others to cook for them." When the food had been prepared for the rich people they sat down to eat. As soon as they started a thick smoke came up. The rich people ate as fast as they could to ease their consciences. They were struggling to breath because of the smoke. They had to eat fast because they were fearful of losing their money. Their money is their god.
Another king of hell then came to me. I also saw a being whose job is to stoke the fires beneath the lake of fire, to keep it hot. This being asked me, "Are you going into the lake of fire too?" I replied, "No! I am only here to observe!" The appearance of this creature stoking the fire was very terrifying. He had ten horns on his head and a spear in his hand that had seven sharp blades coming from the end. The creature told me, "You are right. You came here just to observe. I cannot find your name here." He said, "You must now go back the way you came." He pointed me toward the desolate plain that I had first walked along before I came to the lake of fire.
The Road of Decision I walked a long time, until I was bleeding. I was hot and in great pain. Finally, after walking for about three hours I came to a wide road. I walked along this road for some time until I came to a fork. One road, going off to the left, was wide. A smaller road went off to the right hand side. There was a signpost at the fork saying that the road to the left was for those who do not believe in the Lord Jesus Christ. The smaller road to the right was for believers in Jesus.
I was interested to see where the larger road led so I started down it. There were two men walking about 300 yards ahead of me. I tried to catch up with them so I could walk with them but no matter how hard I tried I couldn't catch them up, so I turned around and went back to the fork in the road. I continued to watch these two men as they walked down the road away from me. When they reached the end of the road they were suddenly stabbed. These two men cried out in great pain! I also cried out when I saw what happened to them! I realized the bigger road ended in great danger for those who traveled down it.
Looking into Heaven I started walking down the believers' road instead. After traveling for about one hour the surface of the road turned to pure gold. It was so pure that when I looked down I could see my own reflection perfectly. I then saw a man standing in front of me. He was wearing a white robe. I also heard beautiful singing. Oh, it was so beautiful and pure! It was much better and more meaningful than the worship we have in churches here on the earth. The man in the white robe asked me to walk with him. I asked him, "What is your name?" but he did not answer. After I asked his name six times the man answered, "I am the one who holds the key to heaven. Heaven is a very, very beautiful place. You cannot go there now but if you follow Jesus Christ you can go there after your life has finished on the earth." The man's name was Peter.
Peter then asked me to sit down and he showed me a place to the north. Peter said, "Look to the north and see God create man." I saw the Eternal God from a distance. God spoke to an angel, "Let us make man." The angel pleaded with God and said, "Please don't make man. He will do wrong and will grieve you." [In Burmese literally: "He will make you lose face."]. But God created a man named anyway. God blew on the man and the man came to life. He gave him the name "Adam". [Note: Buddhists do not believe in the Creation of the world or of man, so this experience had a significant impact on the monk].
Sent Back with a New Name Then Peter said, "Now get up and go back to where you came from. Speak to the people who worship Buddha and who worship idols. Tell them they must go to hell if they don't change. Those who build temples and idols will also have to go to hell. Those who give offerings to the monks to earn merit for themselves with go to hell. All those who pray to the monks and call them 'Pra' [respectful title for monks] will go to hell. Those who chant and 'give life' to idols will go to hell. All those who don't believe in Jesus Christ will go to hell." Peter told me to go back to the earth and testify about the things I had seen. He also said, "You must speak in your new name. From now on you are to be called Athet Pyan Shinthaw Paulu ["Paul who Came Back to Life."].
I didn't want to go back. I wanted to go to heaven. Angels opened a book. First they looked for my childhood name (Thitpin) in the book, but they could not find it. They then looked for the name I had been given when he entered the Buddhist monk hood (U Nata Pannita Ashinthuriya) but it wasn't written in the book either. Then Peter said, "Your name is not written here, you must return and testify about Jesus to the Buddhist people."
I walked back along the gold road. Again I heard beautiful singing, the kind of which I have never heard before or since. Peter walked with me until the time I returned to the earth. He showed me a ladder that reached down from the heaven to the sky. The ladder didn't reach to the earth, but stopped in mid-air. On the ladder I saw many angels, some going up to heaven and some going down the ladder. They were very busy. I asked Peter, "Who are they?" Peter answered, "They are messengers of God. They are reporting to heaven the names of all those who believe in Jesus Christ and the names of those who don't believe." Peter then told me it was time to go back.
It is a Ghost! The next thing I was aware of was the sound of weeping. I heard my own mother cry out, "My son, why did you leave us now?" I also heard many other people weeping. I realized I was lying in a box. I started to move. My mother and father started shouting, "He is alive! He is alive!" Other people who were farther away did not believe my parents. I then placed my hands on the sides of the box and sat upright. Many people were struck with terror. They cried out, "It is a ghost!" and ran away as fast as their legs could carry them.
Those who remained were speechless and trembling. I noticed I was sitting in smelly liquid and body fluids, enough to fill about three and a half cups. This was liquid that had come out of my stomach and my insides while my body was lying in the coffin. This is why people knew I had indeed been dead. Inside the coffin there was a type of plastic sheet fixed to the wood. This sheet is placed there to retain a corpse's liquids, because many dead bodies release much fluid like mine did.
I learned later that I was just moments away from being cremated in the flames. In Myanmar people are placed in a coffin, the lid is then nailed shut, and the whole coffin is burned. When I came back to life my mother and father were being allowed to look at my body for the very last time. Moments later the lid of my coffin would have been nailed shut and I would have been cremated!
I immediately started to explain the things I had seen and heard. People were astonished. I told them about the men I had seen in the lake of fire, and told them that only the Christians know the truth, that our forefathers and us have been deceived for thousands of years! I told them everything we believe is a lie. The people were astonished because they knew what kind of a monk I had been and how zealous I had been for the teachings of Buddha.
In Myanmar when a person dies their name and age is written on the side of the coffin. When a monk dies, the monk's name, age and the number of years he has served as a monk are written on the side of the coffin. I had already been recorded as dead but as you can see, now I am alive!
Epilogue Since 'Paul who came back to life' experienced the above story he has remained a faithful witness to the Lord Jesus Christ. Burmese pastors have told us that he had led hundreds of other monks to faith in Christ. His testimony is obviously very uncompromising. Because of that, his message has offended many people who cannot accept there is only one Way to Heaven, the Lord Jesus Christ. Despite great opposition, his experiences were so real to him that he has not wavered. After many years in the Buddhist monk hood, as a strict follower of Buddhist teachings, he immediately proclaimed the Gospel of Christ following his resurrection and exhorted other monks to forsake all false gods and follow Jesus Christ with all their hearts. Before the time of his sickness and death he had no exposure to Christianity at all. Everything he learned during those three days in the grave was new to his mind.
In a bid to get his message out to as many people as possible, this modern-day Lazarus began distributing audio and video cassette tapes with his story on them. The police and Buddhist authorities in Myanmar have done their utmost to gather these tapes up and destroy them. The testimony you have just read has been translated form one of those cassette tapes. We are told it is now quite dangerous for citizens of Myanmar to be in possession of these tapes.
His fearless testimony has landed him in prison at least once, where the authorities failed in their bid to silence him. Upon his release he continued to testify of the things he saw and heard. His current whereabouts are uncertain. One Burmese informant told us he is prison and may have been killed, while another informant was told he is now released from prison and is continuing his ministry.
Translated by: Asian Minorities Outreach P.O.Box 901 Palestine, TX 75802 U.S.A. E-Mail: monkst... u/yahoo.com Website: http://www.antioch.com.sg/mission/asianmo
________________________
Dear Triplegem Members, The following message was posted to the NDE.com Website by someone called 'James' on 23rd July, 2000. (NDE = Near Death Experience). The Monk's story is identical. But the source is different. Details can be viewed at
<>
The message began with: "Buddhist Monk visits Hell" I believe this person died, body decay & rotten. He was then brought to those places by the LORD to show him some vision. <-------
This is taken from a mission paper "Northside Missions Update" Northside Christian Centre 31-61 McLeans Road Bundoora Victoria 3083 Australia
The same 'Monk's Story' followed. Then, exchange of interesting messages took place at the NDE.com Bulletin Board among NDE regulars, some of them are Christians, and finally, someone called 'Melvin', 'a Myanmar Buddhist', posted the following message and the discussion came to a close.
The fact that the same story has re-surfaced in another form (cassette), perhaps in a another country is a bit disturbing!
Best wishes to all our Triplegem members, MM Lwin
...................................................................
2023.06.05 04:13 dlschindler The Grave In The Green Belt
I ventured through the realm of the forgotten, a solitary wanderer treading the fringes of a world I could never truly call my own. Each step propelled me deeper into the heart of isolation, where extravagant condos belonging to the wealthy loomed on one side, and the impeccably groomed greens of an exclusive golf course stretched out on the other. Beyond was the sound, a channeled sea of islands and foggy weather. Sandwiched between them, an enigmatic patch of forest concealed its secrets, a barrier between opulence and the untamed.
A bone-chilling fog rolled in, veiling the nearby islands in an eerie cloak of mystery. The islands, silent and enigmatic, whispered their secrets to those who dared listen. But on this night, I had more immediate concerns that demanded my attention.
My footsteps led me towards what I knew was my path.
The forest itself seemed out of place, a remnant of untamed wilderness amidst the refined elegance of the condos and the pristine golf course. It was a forgotten corner of nature, hidden away from prying eyes, its secrets locked within its ancient trees and shadowy depths.
It was within this eerie thicket, nestled amidst the extravagant neighborhood and the tranquil sea adorned with fog-shrouded islands, that I stumbled upon a chilling discovery. Max, my loyal canine companion who had accompanied me on countless escapades, led me to a hidden grave. A heavy air of unease settled around us, and a shiver ran down my spine, for I realized I had inadvertently stepped into a dark and foreboding nightmare. Some nightmares are not cleared away in the morning light.
The forest floor was strewn with golf balls, their presence a strange incongruity against the backdrop of towering trees and decaying foliage. But it was the horror that awaited me that truly shattered any sense of normalcy. As Max began to unearth the enigma hidden beneath the earth, an ominous atmosphere descended upon our surroundings, setting the warming orchestra of my thoughts for a descent into madness.
Max began scratching at the ground, his paws kicking up small clouds of dirt. I watched him with trepidation, unsure of what he had stumbled upon. And then, the truth emerged amidst the chaos of his excavation. The forest floor, already littered with golf balls, revealed an even more unsettling sight—a skeletal hand, its bony fingers clutching a weathered club.
As Max continued to dig, my unease grew, and I could no longer ignore the foreboding sense that something terrible was about to unfold. Suddenly, a chorus of guttural voices pierced through the silence, their chilling tones mingling with the rustle of leaves and the distant crash of waves against the tranquil sea.
We huddled in the dense thicket, our hearts pounding against our ribcages like captive beasts. The air grew thick with fear and the stench of decay emanating from the newly discovered grave, just a few feet away. Max, his hackles raised, stood beside me, his eyes fixed on the abyss of the forest.
The feeling of being hunted made us hide, readied us to run. Somehow they knew that we had found their secret. Perhaps the hunters were as sensitive to fate as I.
The nightmare began with a hail of arrows, raining down from above like deadly specks of darkness. I dodged and weaved, desperately seeking cover from the onslaught. The masked men, their eyes burning with malevolence, closed in on me with flashlights in hand, casting grotesque shadows against the fog-laden trees.
A thrown bottle exploded at my feet, glass shattering and cutting into my flesh. The searing pain only fueled my adrenaline-fueled flight. The hunters pursued, their footsteps thundering behind me, accompanied by their mocking laughter and sadistic jeers.
Then, a gunshot shattered the night, its sound resonating through the forest. The other men shouted in anger, chastising the gunman for his recklessness. Chaos intensified, and I felt a tomahawk cartwheel past my ear, missing me by a hair's breadth.
In the midst of the chaos, my heart ached for Max. He had vanished into the depths of the woods, drawn away by something I couldn't fathom. I wanted to run, to escape the approaching vehicles and the hunters who sought to claim me, but I couldn't abandon my faithful companion.
Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes stretched into an agonizing eternity. The sound of vehicles grew louder, the hunters drawing closer. I was terrified and heartbroken, my mind torn between saving myself and waiting for Max.
Just as I was about to abandon hope, a shadow emerged from the gloom. It was Max, bounding toward me with a wagging tail and a glimmer of relief in his eyes. Tears of gratitude welled in my eyes as I called out to him, and he joined me, his presence reinforcing my resolve to flee this nightmarish pursuit.
With renewed determination, Max and I sprinted through the tangled underbrush, the relentless pursuit of the hunters driving us forward. Our hearts beat in sync as we raced against the encroaching darkness.
I followed Max, as he seemed to know the way - having run ahead and found our escape.
The forest seemed to conspire against us, its twisted branches reaching out like skeletal hands, ready to ensnare us in its malevolent embrace. The undergrowth became a treacherous obstacle course, threatening to trip us up with every step. But Max, ever the loyal companion, guided me through the labyrinth of shadows, his senses honed to navigate this haunting realm.
As we sprinted, our breaths ragged and desperate, the pursuing hunters closed in, their footsteps growing louder and more menacing. The sounds of their jeers and taunts echoed through the trees, a symphony of sadism that chilled me to the core.
Then, as if the forest itself decided to aid our escape, a hidden trail materialized before us. It beckoned, a sliver of hope cutting through the suffocating darkness. With no time to spare, we veered onto the path, our feet pounding against the earth, propelled by a surge of adrenaline.
The trail wound deeper into the heart of the forgotten forest, twisting and turning like a serpent, as if playing a wicked game with our pursuers. Shadows danced around us, their elongated forms whispering malevolent secrets. The air grew colder, biting into my skin, and an otherworldly hush settled over the land, as if the very essence of nature held its breath, aware of the horror unfolding within its domain.
A fog reached up from the cliffs as we ran under the open moonlight. We were exposed to our predators, yet the fog came and made us invisible to them. As we reached the other side of the cliffs and more forest, the seaside abandoned us and the fog retreated naturally.
As we raced along the path, the distant sound of crashing waves began to fade, replaced by an eerie silence broken only by the haunting calls of nocturnal creatures. Fear and exhaustion threatened to overtake us, but the thought of what awaited us at the hands of the hunters fueled our determination.
The path abruptly opened up into a clearing, bathed in an ethereal glow. Moonlight filtered through a gap in the dense foliage, casting an otherworldly radiance on a weathered stone structure that stood at the clearing's center. It was a forgotten shrine, forgotten by time and those who once paid homage to its mysterious deity.
A surge of both trepidation and desperate hope coursed through me as I realized that this shrine might hold the key to our salvation. With no time to second-guess, we approached the ancient structure, its moss-covered stones seemingly pulsating with an unknown energy.
As I stepped onto the sacred ground, an unsettling stillness fell over the clearing. Max's hackles rose, his gaze fixated on the shrine's mossy entrance. A primal instinct warned us of the ancient forces at play, but we had come too far to turn back.
Summoning all the courage within me, I pushed open the heavy stone door, revealing a chamber shrouded in darkness. A chill wind swept through the entrance, carrying whispers of forgotten incantations and the scent of decay.
With hesitant steps, we ventured into the unknown depths of the shrine, our hearts pounding in our chests. The walls seemed to close in, suffocating us with a weighty anticipation. The air grew dense with an ancient power, the residue of rituals long forgotten.
A dim light flickered at the center of the chamber, drawing us closer like moths to a flame. We stood trembling, almost forgetting our dire escape. Max began a low growl that broke into a frightened whine.
From the depths of the chamber, a haunting wail erupted, resonating with the agony of centuries past. Shadows coalesced into a towering figure, its eyes blazing with an otherworldly fire. It was the wrathful spirit of the forest itself, determined to protect its secrets at any cost.
Max barked, a valiant act of defiance in the face of an unstoppable force. I stood my ground, clutching my pack, and mustered all the courage I had left. In a trembling voice, I spoke words of remorse and reverence, offering appeasement to the vengeful spirit.
"We're drawn here...to see the grave...to escape its makers."
A hush fell over the chamber as the deity listened, its wrath subsiding, if only momentarily. In a voice that echoed through my mind, it issued a warning—a warning to never return to this forsaken realm, to leave the secrets of the forgotten forest buried in the past.
It wasn't in words, it was just a feeling. I knew what it wanted, and so did Max. It had made itself clear. It would spare us only if we abandoned our trespasses.
With a final glance back at the shrine, Max and I fled, propelled by a newfound urgency. The pursuing hunters were nowhere to be seen, as if swallowed by the very darkness they sought to unleash upon us.
As we emerged from the clutches of the haunted forest, the first rays of morning painted the sky, casting a golden hue upon our weary faces. We had escaped the clutches of the forgotten, forever marked by the consequences of horror that we had personally experienced.
submitted by dlschindler to CollabWithFriends [link] [comments]
A bone-chilling fog rolled in, veiling the nearby islands in an eerie cloak of mystery. The islands, silent and enigmatic, whispered their secrets to those who dared listen. But on this night, I had more immediate concerns that demanded my attention.
My footsteps led me towards what I knew was my path.
The forest itself seemed out of place, a remnant of untamed wilderness amidst the refined elegance of the condos and the pristine golf course. It was a forgotten corner of nature, hidden away from prying eyes, its secrets locked within its ancient trees and shadowy depths.
It was within this eerie thicket, nestled amidst the extravagant neighborhood and the tranquil sea adorned with fog-shrouded islands, that I stumbled upon a chilling discovery. Max, my loyal canine companion who had accompanied me on countless escapades, led me to a hidden grave. A heavy air of unease settled around us, and a shiver ran down my spine, for I realized I had inadvertently stepped into a dark and foreboding nightmare. Some nightmares are not cleared away in the morning light.
The forest floor was strewn with golf balls, their presence a strange incongruity against the backdrop of towering trees and decaying foliage. But it was the horror that awaited me that truly shattered any sense of normalcy. As Max began to unearth the enigma hidden beneath the earth, an ominous atmosphere descended upon our surroundings, setting the warming orchestra of my thoughts for a descent into madness.
Max began scratching at the ground, his paws kicking up small clouds of dirt. I watched him with trepidation, unsure of what he had stumbled upon. And then, the truth emerged amidst the chaos of his excavation. The forest floor, already littered with golf balls, revealed an even more unsettling sight—a skeletal hand, its bony fingers clutching a weathered club.
As Max continued to dig, my unease grew, and I could no longer ignore the foreboding sense that something terrible was about to unfold. Suddenly, a chorus of guttural voices pierced through the silence, their chilling tones mingling with the rustle of leaves and the distant crash of waves against the tranquil sea.
We huddled in the dense thicket, our hearts pounding against our ribcages like captive beasts. The air grew thick with fear and the stench of decay emanating from the newly discovered grave, just a few feet away. Max, his hackles raised, stood beside me, his eyes fixed on the abyss of the forest.
The feeling of being hunted made us hide, readied us to run. Somehow they knew that we had found their secret. Perhaps the hunters were as sensitive to fate as I.
The nightmare began with a hail of arrows, raining down from above like deadly specks of darkness. I dodged and weaved, desperately seeking cover from the onslaught. The masked men, their eyes burning with malevolence, closed in on me with flashlights in hand, casting grotesque shadows against the fog-laden trees.
A thrown bottle exploded at my feet, glass shattering and cutting into my flesh. The searing pain only fueled my adrenaline-fueled flight. The hunters pursued, their footsteps thundering behind me, accompanied by their mocking laughter and sadistic jeers.
Then, a gunshot shattered the night, its sound resonating through the forest. The other men shouted in anger, chastising the gunman for his recklessness. Chaos intensified, and I felt a tomahawk cartwheel past my ear, missing me by a hair's breadth.
In the midst of the chaos, my heart ached for Max. He had vanished into the depths of the woods, drawn away by something I couldn't fathom. I wanted to run, to escape the approaching vehicles and the hunters who sought to claim me, but I couldn't abandon my faithful companion.
Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes stretched into an agonizing eternity. The sound of vehicles grew louder, the hunters drawing closer. I was terrified and heartbroken, my mind torn between saving myself and waiting for Max.
Just as I was about to abandon hope, a shadow emerged from the gloom. It was Max, bounding toward me with a wagging tail and a glimmer of relief in his eyes. Tears of gratitude welled in my eyes as I called out to him, and he joined me, his presence reinforcing my resolve to flee this nightmarish pursuit.
With renewed determination, Max and I sprinted through the tangled underbrush, the relentless pursuit of the hunters driving us forward. Our hearts beat in sync as we raced against the encroaching darkness.
I followed Max, as he seemed to know the way - having run ahead and found our escape.
The forest seemed to conspire against us, its twisted branches reaching out like skeletal hands, ready to ensnare us in its malevolent embrace. The undergrowth became a treacherous obstacle course, threatening to trip us up with every step. But Max, ever the loyal companion, guided me through the labyrinth of shadows, his senses honed to navigate this haunting realm.
As we sprinted, our breaths ragged and desperate, the pursuing hunters closed in, their footsteps growing louder and more menacing. The sounds of their jeers and taunts echoed through the trees, a symphony of sadism that chilled me to the core.
Then, as if the forest itself decided to aid our escape, a hidden trail materialized before us. It beckoned, a sliver of hope cutting through the suffocating darkness. With no time to spare, we veered onto the path, our feet pounding against the earth, propelled by a surge of adrenaline.
The trail wound deeper into the heart of the forgotten forest, twisting and turning like a serpent, as if playing a wicked game with our pursuers. Shadows danced around us, their elongated forms whispering malevolent secrets. The air grew colder, biting into my skin, and an otherworldly hush settled over the land, as if the very essence of nature held its breath, aware of the horror unfolding within its domain.
A fog reached up from the cliffs as we ran under the open moonlight. We were exposed to our predators, yet the fog came and made us invisible to them. As we reached the other side of the cliffs and more forest, the seaside abandoned us and the fog retreated naturally.
As we raced along the path, the distant sound of crashing waves began to fade, replaced by an eerie silence broken only by the haunting calls of nocturnal creatures. Fear and exhaustion threatened to overtake us, but the thought of what awaited us at the hands of the hunters fueled our determination.
The path abruptly opened up into a clearing, bathed in an ethereal glow. Moonlight filtered through a gap in the dense foliage, casting an otherworldly radiance on a weathered stone structure that stood at the clearing's center. It was a forgotten shrine, forgotten by time and those who once paid homage to its mysterious deity.
A surge of both trepidation and desperate hope coursed through me as I realized that this shrine might hold the key to our salvation. With no time to second-guess, we approached the ancient structure, its moss-covered stones seemingly pulsating with an unknown energy.
As I stepped onto the sacred ground, an unsettling stillness fell over the clearing. Max's hackles rose, his gaze fixated on the shrine's mossy entrance. A primal instinct warned us of the ancient forces at play, but we had come too far to turn back.
Summoning all the courage within me, I pushed open the heavy stone door, revealing a chamber shrouded in darkness. A chill wind swept through the entrance, carrying whispers of forgotten incantations and the scent of decay.
With hesitant steps, we ventured into the unknown depths of the shrine, our hearts pounding in our chests. The walls seemed to close in, suffocating us with a weighty anticipation. The air grew dense with an ancient power, the residue of rituals long forgotten.
A dim light flickered at the center of the chamber, drawing us closer like moths to a flame. We stood trembling, almost forgetting our dire escape. Max began a low growl that broke into a frightened whine.
From the depths of the chamber, a haunting wail erupted, resonating with the agony of centuries past. Shadows coalesced into a towering figure, its eyes blazing with an otherworldly fire. It was the wrathful spirit of the forest itself, determined to protect its secrets at any cost.
Max barked, a valiant act of defiance in the face of an unstoppable force. I stood my ground, clutching my pack, and mustered all the courage I had left. In a trembling voice, I spoke words of remorse and reverence, offering appeasement to the vengeful spirit.
"We're drawn here...to see the grave...to escape its makers."
A hush fell over the chamber as the deity listened, its wrath subsiding, if only momentarily. In a voice that echoed through my mind, it issued a warning—a warning to never return to this forsaken realm, to leave the secrets of the forgotten forest buried in the past.
It wasn't in words, it was just a feeling. I knew what it wanted, and so did Max. It had made itself clear. It would spare us only if we abandoned our trespasses.
With a final glance back at the shrine, Max and I fled, propelled by a newfound urgency. The pursuing hunters were nowhere to be seen, as if swallowed by the very darkness they sought to unleash upon us.
As we emerged from the clutches of the haunted forest, the first rays of morning painted the sky, casting a golden hue upon our weary faces. We had escaped the clutches of the forgotten, forever marked by the consequences of horror that we had personally experienced.
2023.06.05 04:10 dlschindler The Grave In The Green Belt
I ventured through the realm of the forgotten, a solitary wanderer treading the fringes of a world I could never truly call my own. Each step propelled me deeper into the heart of isolation, where extravagant condos belonging to the wealthy loomed on one side, and the impeccably groomed greens of an exclusive golf course stretched out on the other. Beyond was the sound, a channeled sea of islands and foggy weather. Sandwiched between them, an enigmatic patch of forest concealed its secrets, a barrier between opulence and the untamed.
A bone-chilling fog rolled in, veiling the nearby islands in an eerie cloak of mystery. The islands, silent and enigmatic, whispered their secrets to those who dared listen. But on this night, I had more immediate concerns that demanded my attention.
My footsteps led me towards what I knew was my path.
The forest itself seemed out of place, a remnant of untamed wilderness amidst the refined elegance of the condos and the pristine golf course. It was a forgotten corner of nature, hidden away from prying eyes, its secrets locked within its ancient trees and shadowy depths.
It was within this eerie thicket, nestled amidst the extravagant neighborhood and the tranquil sea adorned with fog-shrouded islands, that I stumbled upon a chilling discovery. Max, my loyal canine companion who had accompanied me on countless escapades, led me to a hidden grave. A heavy air of unease settled around us, and a shiver ran down my spine, for I realized I had inadvertently stepped into a dark and foreboding nightmare. Some nightmares are not cleared away in the morning light.
The forest floor was strewn with golf balls, their presence a strange incongruity against the backdrop of towering trees and decaying foliage. But it was the horror that awaited me that truly shattered any sense of normalcy. As Max began to unearth the enigma hidden beneath the earth, an ominous atmosphere descended upon our surroundings, setting the warming orchestra of my thoughts for a descent into madness.
Max began scratching at the ground, his paws kicking up small clouds of dirt. I watched him with trepidation, unsure of what he had stumbled upon. And then, the truth emerged amidst the chaos of his excavation. The forest floor, already littered with golf balls, revealed an even more unsettling sight—a skeletal hand, its bony fingers clutching a weathered club.
As Max continued to dig, my unease grew, and I could no longer ignore the foreboding sense that something terrible was about to unfold. Suddenly, a chorus of guttural voices pierced through the silence, their chilling tones mingling with the rustle of leaves and the distant crash of waves against the tranquil sea.
We huddled in the dense thicket, our hearts pounding against our ribcages like captive beasts. The air grew thick with fear and the stench of decay emanating from the newly discovered grave, just a few feet away. Max, his hackles raised, stood beside me, his eyes fixed on the abyss of the forest.
The feeling of being hunted made us hide, readied us to run. Somehow they knew that we had found their secret. Perhaps the hunters were as sensitive to fate as I.
The nightmare began with a hail of arrows, raining down from above like deadly specks of darkness. I dodged and weaved, desperately seeking cover from the onslaught. The masked men, their eyes burning with malevolence, closed in on me with flashlights in hand, casting grotesque shadows against the fog-laden trees.
A thrown bottle exploded at my feet, glass shattering and cutting into my flesh. The searing pain only fueled my adrenaline-fueled flight. The hunters pursued, their footsteps thundering behind me, accompanied by their mocking laughter and sadistic jeers.
Then, a gunshot shattered the night, its sound resonating through the forest. The other men shouted in anger, chastising the gunman for his recklessness. Chaos intensified, and I felt a tomahawk cartwheel past my ear, missing me by a hair's breadth.
In the midst of the chaos, my heart ached for Max. He had vanished into the depths of the woods, drawn away by something I couldn't fathom. I wanted to run, to escape the approaching vehicles and the hunters who sought to claim me, but I couldn't abandon my faithful companion.
Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes stretched into an agonizing eternity. The sound of vehicles grew louder, the hunters drawing closer. I was terrified and heartbroken, my mind torn between saving myself and waiting for Max.
Just as I was about to abandon hope, a shadow emerged from the gloom. It was Max, bounding toward me with a wagging tail and a glimmer of relief in his eyes. Tears of gratitude welled in my eyes as I called out to him, and he joined me, his presence reinforcing my resolve to flee this nightmarish pursuit.
With renewed determination, Max and I sprinted through the tangled underbrush, the relentless pursuit of the hunters driving us forward. Our hearts beat in sync as we raced against the encroaching darkness.
I followed Max, as he seemed to know the way - having run ahead and found our escape.
The forest seemed to conspire against us, its twisted branches reaching out like skeletal hands, ready to ensnare us in its malevolent embrace. The undergrowth became a treacherous obstacle course, threatening to trip us up with every step. But Max, ever the loyal companion, guided me through the labyrinth of shadows, his senses honed to navigate this haunting realm.
As we sprinted, our breaths ragged and desperate, the pursuing hunters closed in, their footsteps growing louder and more menacing. The sounds of their jeers and taunts echoed through the trees, a symphony of sadism that chilled me to the core.
Then, as if the forest itself decided to aid our escape, a hidden trail materialized before us. It beckoned, a sliver of hope cutting through the suffocating darkness. With no time to spare, we veered onto the path, our feet pounding against the earth, propelled by a surge of adrenaline.
The trail wound deeper into the heart of the forgotten forest, twisting and turning like a serpent, as if playing a wicked game with our pursuers. Shadows danced around us, their elongated forms whispering malevolent secrets. The air grew colder, biting into my skin, and an otherworldly hush settled over the land, as if the very essence of nature held its breath, aware of the horror unfolding within its domain.
A fog reached up from the cliffs as we ran under the open moonlight. We were exposed to our predators, yet the fog came and made us invisible to them. As we reached the other side of the cliffs and more forest, the seaside abandoned us and the fog retreated naturally.
As we raced along the path, the distant sound of crashing waves began to fade, replaced by an eerie silence broken only by the haunting calls of nocturnal creatures. Fear and exhaustion threatened to overtake us, but the thought of what awaited us at the hands of the hunters fueled our determination.
The path abruptly opened up into a clearing, bathed in an ethereal glow. Moonlight filtered through a gap in the dense foliage, casting an otherworldly radiance on a weathered stone structure that stood at the clearing's center. It was a forgotten shrine, forgotten by time and those who once paid homage to its mysterious deity.
A surge of both trepidation and desperate hope coursed through me as I realized that this shrine might hold the key to our salvation. With no time to second-guess, we approached the ancient structure, its moss-covered stones seemingly pulsating with an unknown energy.
As I stepped onto the sacred ground, an unsettling stillness fell over the clearing. Max's hackles rose, his gaze fixated on the shrine's mossy entrance. A primal instinct warned us of the ancient forces at play, but we had come too far to turn back.
Summoning all the courage within me, I pushed open the heavy stone door, revealing a chamber shrouded in darkness. A chill wind swept through the entrance, carrying whispers of forgotten incantations and the scent of decay.
With hesitant steps, we ventured into the unknown depths of the shrine, our hearts pounding in our chests. The walls seemed to close in, suffocating us with a weighty anticipation. The air grew dense with an ancient power, the residue of rituals long forgotten.
A dim light flickered at the center of the chamber, drawing us closer like moths to a flame. We stood trembling, almost forgetting our dire escape. Max began a low growl that broke into a frightened whine.
From the depths of the chamber, a haunting wail erupted, resonating with the agony of centuries past. Shadows coalesced into a towering figure, its eyes blazing with an otherworldly fire. It was the wrathful spirit of the forest itself, determined to protect its secrets at any cost.
Max barked, a valiant act of defiance in the face of an unstoppable force. I stood my ground, clutching my pack, and mustered all the courage I had left. In a trembling voice, I spoke words of remorse and reverence, offering appeasement to the vengeful spirit.
"We're drawn here...to see the grave...to escape its makers."
A hush fell over the chamber as the deity listened, its wrath subsiding, if only momentarily. In a voice that echoed through my mind, it issued a warning—a warning to never return to this forsaken realm, to leave the secrets of the forgotten forest buried in the past.
It wasn't in words, it was just a feeling. I knew what it wanted, and so did Max. It had made itself clear. It would spare us only if we abandoned our trespasses.
With a final glance back at the shrine, Max and I fled, propelled by a newfound urgency. The pursuing hunters were nowhere to be seen, as if swallowed by the very darkness they sought to unleash upon us.
As we emerged from the clutches of the haunted forest, the first rays of morning painted the sky, casting a golden hue upon our weary faces. We had escaped the clutches of the forgotten, forever marked by the consequences of horror that we had personally experienced.
submitted by dlschindler to libraryofshadows [link] [comments]
A bone-chilling fog rolled in, veiling the nearby islands in an eerie cloak of mystery. The islands, silent and enigmatic, whispered their secrets to those who dared listen. But on this night, I had more immediate concerns that demanded my attention.
My footsteps led me towards what I knew was my path.
The forest itself seemed out of place, a remnant of untamed wilderness amidst the refined elegance of the condos and the pristine golf course. It was a forgotten corner of nature, hidden away from prying eyes, its secrets locked within its ancient trees and shadowy depths.
It was within this eerie thicket, nestled amidst the extravagant neighborhood and the tranquil sea adorned with fog-shrouded islands, that I stumbled upon a chilling discovery. Max, my loyal canine companion who had accompanied me on countless escapades, led me to a hidden grave. A heavy air of unease settled around us, and a shiver ran down my spine, for I realized I had inadvertently stepped into a dark and foreboding nightmare. Some nightmares are not cleared away in the morning light.
The forest floor was strewn with golf balls, their presence a strange incongruity against the backdrop of towering trees and decaying foliage. But it was the horror that awaited me that truly shattered any sense of normalcy. As Max began to unearth the enigma hidden beneath the earth, an ominous atmosphere descended upon our surroundings, setting the warming orchestra of my thoughts for a descent into madness.
Max began scratching at the ground, his paws kicking up small clouds of dirt. I watched him with trepidation, unsure of what he had stumbled upon. And then, the truth emerged amidst the chaos of his excavation. The forest floor, already littered with golf balls, revealed an even more unsettling sight—a skeletal hand, its bony fingers clutching a weathered club.
As Max continued to dig, my unease grew, and I could no longer ignore the foreboding sense that something terrible was about to unfold. Suddenly, a chorus of guttural voices pierced through the silence, their chilling tones mingling with the rustle of leaves and the distant crash of waves against the tranquil sea.
We huddled in the dense thicket, our hearts pounding against our ribcages like captive beasts. The air grew thick with fear and the stench of decay emanating from the newly discovered grave, just a few feet away. Max, his hackles raised, stood beside me, his eyes fixed on the abyss of the forest.
The feeling of being hunted made us hide, readied us to run. Somehow they knew that we had found their secret. Perhaps the hunters were as sensitive to fate as I.
The nightmare began with a hail of arrows, raining down from above like deadly specks of darkness. I dodged and weaved, desperately seeking cover from the onslaught. The masked men, their eyes burning with malevolence, closed in on me with flashlights in hand, casting grotesque shadows against the fog-laden trees.
A thrown bottle exploded at my feet, glass shattering and cutting into my flesh. The searing pain only fueled my adrenaline-fueled flight. The hunters pursued, their footsteps thundering behind me, accompanied by their mocking laughter and sadistic jeers.
Then, a gunshot shattered the night, its sound resonating through the forest. The other men shouted in anger, chastising the gunman for his recklessness. Chaos intensified, and I felt a tomahawk cartwheel past my ear, missing me by a hair's breadth.
In the midst of the chaos, my heart ached for Max. He had vanished into the depths of the woods, drawn away by something I couldn't fathom. I wanted to run, to escape the approaching vehicles and the hunters who sought to claim me, but I couldn't abandon my faithful companion.
Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes stretched into an agonizing eternity. The sound of vehicles grew louder, the hunters drawing closer. I was terrified and heartbroken, my mind torn between saving myself and waiting for Max.
Just as I was about to abandon hope, a shadow emerged from the gloom. It was Max, bounding toward me with a wagging tail and a glimmer of relief in his eyes. Tears of gratitude welled in my eyes as I called out to him, and he joined me, his presence reinforcing my resolve to flee this nightmarish pursuit.
With renewed determination, Max and I sprinted through the tangled underbrush, the relentless pursuit of the hunters driving us forward. Our hearts beat in sync as we raced against the encroaching darkness.
I followed Max, as he seemed to know the way - having run ahead and found our escape.
The forest seemed to conspire against us, its twisted branches reaching out like skeletal hands, ready to ensnare us in its malevolent embrace. The undergrowth became a treacherous obstacle course, threatening to trip us up with every step. But Max, ever the loyal companion, guided me through the labyrinth of shadows, his senses honed to navigate this haunting realm.
As we sprinted, our breaths ragged and desperate, the pursuing hunters closed in, their footsteps growing louder and more menacing. The sounds of their jeers and taunts echoed through the trees, a symphony of sadism that chilled me to the core.
Then, as if the forest itself decided to aid our escape, a hidden trail materialized before us. It beckoned, a sliver of hope cutting through the suffocating darkness. With no time to spare, we veered onto the path, our feet pounding against the earth, propelled by a surge of adrenaline.
The trail wound deeper into the heart of the forgotten forest, twisting and turning like a serpent, as if playing a wicked game with our pursuers. Shadows danced around us, their elongated forms whispering malevolent secrets. The air grew colder, biting into my skin, and an otherworldly hush settled over the land, as if the very essence of nature held its breath, aware of the horror unfolding within its domain.
A fog reached up from the cliffs as we ran under the open moonlight. We were exposed to our predators, yet the fog came and made us invisible to them. As we reached the other side of the cliffs and more forest, the seaside abandoned us and the fog retreated naturally.
As we raced along the path, the distant sound of crashing waves began to fade, replaced by an eerie silence broken only by the haunting calls of nocturnal creatures. Fear and exhaustion threatened to overtake us, but the thought of what awaited us at the hands of the hunters fueled our determination.
The path abruptly opened up into a clearing, bathed in an ethereal glow. Moonlight filtered through a gap in the dense foliage, casting an otherworldly radiance on a weathered stone structure that stood at the clearing's center. It was a forgotten shrine, forgotten by time and those who once paid homage to its mysterious deity.
A surge of both trepidation and desperate hope coursed through me as I realized that this shrine might hold the key to our salvation. With no time to second-guess, we approached the ancient structure, its moss-covered stones seemingly pulsating with an unknown energy.
As I stepped onto the sacred ground, an unsettling stillness fell over the clearing. Max's hackles rose, his gaze fixated on the shrine's mossy entrance. A primal instinct warned us of the ancient forces at play, but we had come too far to turn back.
Summoning all the courage within me, I pushed open the heavy stone door, revealing a chamber shrouded in darkness. A chill wind swept through the entrance, carrying whispers of forgotten incantations and the scent of decay.
With hesitant steps, we ventured into the unknown depths of the shrine, our hearts pounding in our chests. The walls seemed to close in, suffocating us with a weighty anticipation. The air grew dense with an ancient power, the residue of rituals long forgotten.
A dim light flickered at the center of the chamber, drawing us closer like moths to a flame. We stood trembling, almost forgetting our dire escape. Max began a low growl that broke into a frightened whine.
From the depths of the chamber, a haunting wail erupted, resonating with the agony of centuries past. Shadows coalesced into a towering figure, its eyes blazing with an otherworldly fire. It was the wrathful spirit of the forest itself, determined to protect its secrets at any cost.
Max barked, a valiant act of defiance in the face of an unstoppable force. I stood my ground, clutching my pack, and mustered all the courage I had left. In a trembling voice, I spoke words of remorse and reverence, offering appeasement to the vengeful spirit.
"We're drawn here...to see the grave...to escape its makers."
A hush fell over the chamber as the deity listened, its wrath subsiding, if only momentarily. In a voice that echoed through my mind, it issued a warning—a warning to never return to this forsaken realm, to leave the secrets of the forgotten forest buried in the past.
It wasn't in words, it was just a feeling. I knew what it wanted, and so did Max. It had made itself clear. It would spare us only if we abandoned our trespasses.
With a final glance back at the shrine, Max and I fled, propelled by a newfound urgency. The pursuing hunters were nowhere to be seen, as if swallowed by the very darkness they sought to unleash upon us.
As we emerged from the clutches of the haunted forest, the first rays of morning painted the sky, casting a golden hue upon our weary faces. We had escaped the clutches of the forgotten, forever marked by the consequences of horror that we had personally experienced.
2023.06.05 04:09 dlschindler The Grave In The Green Belt
I ventured through the realm of the forgotten, a solitary wanderer treading the fringes of a world I could never truly call my own. Each step propelled me deeper into the heart of isolation, where extravagant condos belonging to the wealthy loomed on one side, and the impeccably groomed greens of an exclusive golf course stretched out on the other. Beyond was the sound, a channeled sea of islands and foggy weather. Sandwiched between them, an enigmatic patch of forest concealed its secrets, a barrier between opulence and the untamed.
A bone-chilling fog rolled in, veiling the nearby islands in an eerie cloak of mystery. The islands, silent and enigmatic, whispered their secrets to those who dared listen. But on this night, I had more immediate concerns that demanded my attention.
My footsteps led me towards what I knew was my path.
The forest itself seemed out of place, a remnant of untamed wilderness amidst the refined elegance of the condos and the pristine golf course. It was a forgotten corner of nature, hidden away from prying eyes, its secrets locked within its ancient trees and shadowy depths.
It was within this eerie thicket, nestled amidst the extravagant neighborhood and the tranquil sea adorned with fog-shrouded islands, that I stumbled upon a chilling discovery. Max, my loyal canine companion who had accompanied me on countless escapades, led me to a hidden grave. A heavy air of unease settled around us, and a shiver ran down my spine, for I realized I had inadvertently stepped into a dark and foreboding nightmare. Some nightmares are not cleared away in the morning light.
The forest floor was strewn with golf balls, their presence a strange incongruity against the backdrop of towering trees and decaying foliage. But it was the horror that awaited me that truly shattered any sense of normalcy. As Max began to unearth the enigma hidden beneath the earth, an ominous atmosphere descended upon our surroundings, setting the warming orchestra of my thoughts for a descent into madness.
Max began scratching at the ground, his paws kicking up small clouds of dirt. I watched him with trepidation, unsure of what he had stumbled upon. And then, the truth emerged amidst the chaos of his excavation. The forest floor, already littered with golf balls, revealed an even more unsettling sight—a skeletal hand, its bony fingers clutching a weathered club.
As Max continued to dig, my unease grew, and I could no longer ignore the foreboding sense that something terrible was about to unfold. Suddenly, a chorus of guttural voices pierced through the silence, their chilling tones mingling with the rustle of leaves and the distant crash of waves against the tranquil sea.
We huddled in the dense thicket, our hearts pounding against our ribcages like captive beasts. The air grew thick with fear and the stench of decay emanating from the newly discovered grave, just a few feet away. Max, his hackles raised, stood beside me, his eyes fixed on the abyss of the forest.
The feeling of being hunted made us hide, readied us to run. Somehow they knew that we had found their secret. Perhaps the hunters were as sensitive to fate as I.
The nightmare began with a hail of arrows, raining down from above like deadly specks of darkness. I dodged and weaved, desperately seeking cover from the onslaught. The masked men, their eyes burning with malevolence, closed in on me with flashlights in hand, casting grotesque shadows against the fog-laden trees.
A thrown bottle exploded at my feet, glass shattering and cutting into my flesh. The searing pain only fueled my adrenaline-fueled flight. The hunters pursued, their footsteps thundering behind me, accompanied by their mocking laughter and sadistic jeers.
Then, a gunshot shattered the night, its sound resonating through the forest. The other men shouted in anger, chastising the gunman for his recklessness. Chaos intensified, and I felt a tomahawk cartwheel past my ear, missing me by a hair's breadth.
In the midst of the chaos, my heart ached for Max. He had vanished into the depths of the woods, drawn away by something I couldn't fathom. I wanted to run, to escape the approaching vehicles and the hunters who sought to claim me, but I couldn't abandon my faithful companion.
Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes stretched into an agonizing eternity. The sound of vehicles grew louder, the hunters drawing closer. I was terrified and heartbroken, my mind torn between saving myself and waiting for Max.
Just as I was about to abandon hope, a shadow emerged from the gloom. It was Max, bounding toward me with a wagging tail and a glimmer of relief in his eyes. Tears of gratitude welled in my eyes as I called out to him, and he joined me, his presence reinforcing my resolve to flee this nightmarish pursuit.
With renewed determination, Max and I sprinted through the tangled underbrush, the relentless pursuit of the hunters driving us forward. Our hearts beat in sync as we raced against the encroaching darkness.
I followed Max, as he seemed to know the way - having run ahead and found our escape.
The forest seemed to conspire against us, its twisted branches reaching out like skeletal hands, ready to ensnare us in its malevolent embrace. The undergrowth became a treacherous obstacle course, threatening to trip us up with every step. But Max, ever the loyal companion, guided me through the labyrinth of shadows, his senses honed to navigate this haunting realm.
As we sprinted, our breaths ragged and desperate, the pursuing hunters closed in, their footsteps growing louder and more menacing. The sounds of their jeers and taunts echoed through the trees, a symphony of sadism that chilled me to the core.
Then, as if the forest itself decided to aid our escape, a hidden trail materialized before us. It beckoned, a sliver of hope cutting through the suffocating darkness. With no time to spare, we veered onto the path, our feet pounding against the earth, propelled by a surge of adrenaline.
The trail wound deeper into the heart of the forgotten forest, twisting and turning like a serpent, as if playing a wicked game with our pursuers. Shadows danced around us, their elongated forms whispering malevolent secrets. The air grew colder, biting into my skin, and an otherworldly hush settled over the land, as if the very essence of nature held its breath, aware of the horror unfolding within its domain.
A fog reached up from the cliffs as we ran under the open moonlight. We were exposed to our predators, yet the fog came and made us invisible to them. As we reached the other side of the cliffs and more forest, the seaside abandoned us and the fog retreated naturally.
As we raced along the path, the distant sound of crashing waves began to fade, replaced by an eerie silence broken only by the haunting calls of nocturnal creatures. Fear and exhaustion threatened to overtake us, but the thought of what awaited us at the hands of the hunters fueled our determination.
The path abruptly opened up into a clearing, bathed in an ethereal glow. Moonlight filtered through a gap in the dense foliage, casting an otherworldly radiance on a weathered stone structure that stood at the clearing's center. It was a forgotten shrine, forgotten by time and those who once paid homage to its mysterious deity.
A surge of both trepidation and desperate hope coursed through me as I realized that this shrine might hold the key to our salvation. With no time to second-guess, we approached the ancient structure, its moss-covered stones seemingly pulsating with an unknown energy.
As I stepped onto the sacred ground, an unsettling stillness fell over the clearing. Max's hackles rose, his gaze fixated on the shrine's mossy entrance. A primal instinct warned us of the ancient forces at play, but we had come too far to turn back.
Summoning all the courage within me, I pushed open the heavy stone door, revealing a chamber shrouded in darkness. A chill wind swept through the entrance, carrying whispers of forgotten incantations and the scent of decay.
With hesitant steps, we ventured into the unknown depths of the shrine, our hearts pounding in our chests. The walls seemed to close in, suffocating us with a weighty anticipation. The air grew dense with an ancient power, the residue of rituals long forgotten.
A dim light flickered at the center of the chamber, drawing us closer like moths to a flame. We stood trembling, almost forgetting our dire escape. Max began a low growl that broke into a frightened whine.
From the depths of the chamber, a haunting wail erupted, resonating with the agony of centuries past. Shadows coalesced into a towering figure, its eyes blazing with an otherworldly fire. It was the wrathful spirit of the forest itself, determined to protect its secrets at any cost.
Max barked, a valiant act of defiance in the face of an unstoppable force. I stood my ground, clutching my pack, and mustered all the courage I had left. In a trembling voice, I spoke words of remorse and reverence, offering appeasement to the vengeful spirit.
"We're drawn here...to see the grave...to escape its makers."
A hush fell over the chamber as the deity listened, its wrath subsiding, if only momentarily. In a voice that echoed through my mind, it issued a warning—a warning to never return to this forsaken realm, to leave the secrets of the forgotten forest buried in the past.
It wasn't in words, it was just a feeling. I knew what it wanted, and so did Max. It had made itself clear. It would spare us only if we abandoned our trespasses.
With a final glance back at the shrine, Max and I fled, propelled by a newfound urgency. The pursuing hunters were nowhere to be seen, as if swallowed by the very darkness they sought to unleash upon us.
As we emerged from the clutches of the haunted forest, the first rays of morning painted the sky, casting a golden hue upon our weary faces. We had escaped the clutches of the forgotten, forever marked by the consequences of horror that we had personally experienced.
submitted by dlschindler to nosleep [link] [comments]
A bone-chilling fog rolled in, veiling the nearby islands in an eerie cloak of mystery. The islands, silent and enigmatic, whispered their secrets to those who dared listen. But on this night, I had more immediate concerns that demanded my attention.
My footsteps led me towards what I knew was my path.
The forest itself seemed out of place, a remnant of untamed wilderness amidst the refined elegance of the condos and the pristine golf course. It was a forgotten corner of nature, hidden away from prying eyes, its secrets locked within its ancient trees and shadowy depths.
It was within this eerie thicket, nestled amidst the extravagant neighborhood and the tranquil sea adorned with fog-shrouded islands, that I stumbled upon a chilling discovery. Max, my loyal canine companion who had accompanied me on countless escapades, led me to a hidden grave. A heavy air of unease settled around us, and a shiver ran down my spine, for I realized I had inadvertently stepped into a dark and foreboding nightmare. Some nightmares are not cleared away in the morning light.
The forest floor was strewn with golf balls, their presence a strange incongruity against the backdrop of towering trees and decaying foliage. But it was the horror that awaited me that truly shattered any sense of normalcy. As Max began to unearth the enigma hidden beneath the earth, an ominous atmosphere descended upon our surroundings, setting the warming orchestra of my thoughts for a descent into madness.
Max began scratching at the ground, his paws kicking up small clouds of dirt. I watched him with trepidation, unsure of what he had stumbled upon. And then, the truth emerged amidst the chaos of his excavation. The forest floor, already littered with golf balls, revealed an even more unsettling sight—a skeletal hand, its bony fingers clutching a weathered club.
As Max continued to dig, my unease grew, and I could no longer ignore the foreboding sense that something terrible was about to unfold. Suddenly, a chorus of guttural voices pierced through the silence, their chilling tones mingling with the rustle of leaves and the distant crash of waves against the tranquil sea.
We huddled in the dense thicket, our hearts pounding against our ribcages like captive beasts. The air grew thick with fear and the stench of decay emanating from the newly discovered grave, just a few feet away. Max, his hackles raised, stood beside me, his eyes fixed on the abyss of the forest.
The feeling of being hunted made us hide, readied us to run. Somehow they knew that we had found their secret. Perhaps the hunters were as sensitive to fate as I.
The nightmare began with a hail of arrows, raining down from above like deadly specks of darkness. I dodged and weaved, desperately seeking cover from the onslaught. The masked men, their eyes burning with malevolence, closed in on me with flashlights in hand, casting grotesque shadows against the fog-laden trees.
A thrown bottle exploded at my feet, glass shattering and cutting into my flesh. The searing pain only fueled my adrenaline-fueled flight. The hunters pursued, their footsteps thundering behind me, accompanied by their mocking laughter and sadistic jeers.
Then, a gunshot shattered the night, its sound resonating through the forest. The other men shouted in anger, chastising the gunman for his recklessness. Chaos intensified, and I felt a tomahawk cartwheel past my ear, missing me by a hair's breadth.
In the midst of the chaos, my heart ached for Max. He had vanished into the depths of the woods, drawn away by something I couldn't fathom. I wanted to run, to escape the approaching vehicles and the hunters who sought to claim me, but I couldn't abandon my faithful companion.
Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes stretched into an agonizing eternity. The sound of vehicles grew louder, the hunters drawing closer. I was terrified and heartbroken, my mind torn between saving myself and waiting for Max.
Just as I was about to abandon hope, a shadow emerged from the gloom. It was Max, bounding toward me with a wagging tail and a glimmer of relief in his eyes. Tears of gratitude welled in my eyes as I called out to him, and he joined me, his presence reinforcing my resolve to flee this nightmarish pursuit.
With renewed determination, Max and I sprinted through the tangled underbrush, the relentless pursuit of the hunters driving us forward. Our hearts beat in sync as we raced against the encroaching darkness.
I followed Max, as he seemed to know the way - having run ahead and found our escape.
The forest seemed to conspire against us, its twisted branches reaching out like skeletal hands, ready to ensnare us in its malevolent embrace. The undergrowth became a treacherous obstacle course, threatening to trip us up with every step. But Max, ever the loyal companion, guided me through the labyrinth of shadows, his senses honed to navigate this haunting realm.
As we sprinted, our breaths ragged and desperate, the pursuing hunters closed in, their footsteps growing louder and more menacing. The sounds of their jeers and taunts echoed through the trees, a symphony of sadism that chilled me to the core.
Then, as if the forest itself decided to aid our escape, a hidden trail materialized before us. It beckoned, a sliver of hope cutting through the suffocating darkness. With no time to spare, we veered onto the path, our feet pounding against the earth, propelled by a surge of adrenaline.
The trail wound deeper into the heart of the forgotten forest, twisting and turning like a serpent, as if playing a wicked game with our pursuers. Shadows danced around us, their elongated forms whispering malevolent secrets. The air grew colder, biting into my skin, and an otherworldly hush settled over the land, as if the very essence of nature held its breath, aware of the horror unfolding within its domain.
A fog reached up from the cliffs as we ran under the open moonlight. We were exposed to our predators, yet the fog came and made us invisible to them. As we reached the other side of the cliffs and more forest, the seaside abandoned us and the fog retreated naturally.
As we raced along the path, the distant sound of crashing waves began to fade, replaced by an eerie silence broken only by the haunting calls of nocturnal creatures. Fear and exhaustion threatened to overtake us, but the thought of what awaited us at the hands of the hunters fueled our determination.
The path abruptly opened up into a clearing, bathed in an ethereal glow. Moonlight filtered through a gap in the dense foliage, casting an otherworldly radiance on a weathered stone structure that stood at the clearing's center. It was a forgotten shrine, forgotten by time and those who once paid homage to its mysterious deity.
A surge of both trepidation and desperate hope coursed through me as I realized that this shrine might hold the key to our salvation. With no time to second-guess, we approached the ancient structure, its moss-covered stones seemingly pulsating with an unknown energy.
As I stepped onto the sacred ground, an unsettling stillness fell over the clearing. Max's hackles rose, his gaze fixated on the shrine's mossy entrance. A primal instinct warned us of the ancient forces at play, but we had come too far to turn back.
Summoning all the courage within me, I pushed open the heavy stone door, revealing a chamber shrouded in darkness. A chill wind swept through the entrance, carrying whispers of forgotten incantations and the scent of decay.
With hesitant steps, we ventured into the unknown depths of the shrine, our hearts pounding in our chests. The walls seemed to close in, suffocating us with a weighty anticipation. The air grew dense with an ancient power, the residue of rituals long forgotten.
A dim light flickered at the center of the chamber, drawing us closer like moths to a flame. We stood trembling, almost forgetting our dire escape. Max began a low growl that broke into a frightened whine.
From the depths of the chamber, a haunting wail erupted, resonating with the agony of centuries past. Shadows coalesced into a towering figure, its eyes blazing with an otherworldly fire. It was the wrathful spirit of the forest itself, determined to protect its secrets at any cost.
Max barked, a valiant act of defiance in the face of an unstoppable force. I stood my ground, clutching my pack, and mustered all the courage I had left. In a trembling voice, I spoke words of remorse and reverence, offering appeasement to the vengeful spirit.
"We're drawn here...to see the grave...to escape its makers."
A hush fell over the chamber as the deity listened, its wrath subsiding, if only momentarily. In a voice that echoed through my mind, it issued a warning—a warning to never return to this forsaken realm, to leave the secrets of the forgotten forest buried in the past.
It wasn't in words, it was just a feeling. I knew what it wanted, and so did Max. It had made itself clear. It would spare us only if we abandoned our trespasses.
With a final glance back at the shrine, Max and I fled, propelled by a newfound urgency. The pursuing hunters were nowhere to be seen, as if swallowed by the very darkness they sought to unleash upon us.
As we emerged from the clutches of the haunted forest, the first rays of morning painted the sky, casting a golden hue upon our weary faces. We had escaped the clutches of the forgotten, forever marked by the consequences of horror that we had personally experienced.
2023.06.05 03:58 C0smicoccurence Is Priory of the Orange Tree a Queernorm Book? My Collected Thoughts on the Matter
This post contains spoilers for Priory of the Orange Tree (notably, the romantic interest of one of the lead characters, though this becomes fairly obvious in the first third of the book, and a few events from throughout the book that relate to the barriers that relationship faces)
This weekend I finished reading Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon for my LGBTQ+ Bingo Card. While I picked it because of the dragons for the mythical beasts square, it’s also been mentioned as a good option for the Queernorm Square by many, and I was curious what that would look like in and Epic High Fantasy story, since I more often see this in more urban settings (Rook and Rose comes to mind).
What comes below are not a review of the book, but instead my rambling thoughts on whether or not this book is a Queernorm story.
What is a Queernorm Story?:
It’s probably best to start with a working definition. According to this year’s bingo card … “A book set in a world where queerness is normalized, accepted, and prevalent within communities. Characters are not othered, ostracized, or particularly remarkable in any way for their queerness”
I should also note that, as someone completing an LGBTQ+ card, and who reads a good amount of queer speculative fiction, I am perhaps a more rigorous set of standards for this than most. I also want to stress that queernorm =/= good and the reverse =/= bad. Non Queernorm Stories are just as important and wonderful. This conversation exists mostly in the context of the 2023 bingo contest and my own desire to overanalyze things.
What is Priory of the Orange Tree?
In short, this book is an Epic Fantasy story where four disparate protagonists try to stop the Nameless One from rising, and the Nameless One is a giant western style dragon. The characters come from a variety of cultures, which encompass many analogues from around the globe (notably, there are two types of dragons, Eastern and Western, which largely map onto how Eastern and Western cultures on our earth have depicted dragons). Goodreads has more information. eastern continent)
Queernorm Elements:
To start with, half of the four viewpoint characters are homosexual. Ead is a mage warrior secretly protecting a western foreign queen while living at her court, and Niclays is an exiled alchemist from said court now living in a tiny island town off the eastern continent. Ead’s romance is a major plot point in the book, and Niclay’s relationship with his deceased lover is a major part of his character. This prevalent queer rep in main characters is key to the argument that Priory is a queernorm book, especially since there’s no dramatic coming out, or need to comment on the fact that they’re gay at all. It’s treated like any other relationship in the book is. There are a few minor queer characters, mostly mentioned in passing, which is a part of a well realized queernorm world (and really any world where its mentioned people are married if we’re being honest)
There’s a lot of work put into pushing for world building elements that are queernorm in nature. Most notably, the world uses the term ‘companion’ instead of husband or wife, which is a clear attempt to make the world a more queer friendly place, since there is no distinction between different types of companionships/marriages.
These fairly major elements really lend strength to the argument that this is a Queernorm story, though the lack of any trans or gender diverse characters that I’m aware of is perhaps the only major obvious knock against it (and this shifts in the second book from what I’ve seen)
Where Things Start to Fall Apart
While I was reading, there was this nagging voice in my head that kept picking at this question of whether it was a queernorm book, in part because it was an element I was excited about. And I kept running into little things that bugged me.
To begin with, both of the main queer relationships were forbidden for unrelated reasons. The first is fairly straightforward: Niclays’ lover was already married to a woman, though he painted a positive relationship with her (and their children), even after his lover died. You see, the religion of the northern countries in the West (where both queer relationships spent most of their time occurring) have strict monogamous rules, and it doesn’t seem like divorce is an option.
This already provides systemic barriers for poly folks, but led to some more insidious forms of discrimination. You see, Niclay’s lover got engaged when the man was two years old for political reasons. In fact, all mentioned arranged marriages were between a man and a woman (although it is entirely possible that homosexual arranged marriages occurred as well, I can’t comment on what isn’t there). This, when combined with the strict religious monogamy laws, lead to queer people being forced into heterosexual relationships against their will in a systemic fashion.
The second forbidden relationship is between Ead and the Queen of Inys. For context, Inys is a Queendom, whose queens uncannily produce only one child: always a girl, and always with a very similar appearance. Sabran has long resisted marriage, but is forced to marry a man to produce an heir and cement of a political alliance. A lot of my above issues come into play here as well, but there’s a larger problem facing the queernorm label here. As a religion (and country) the need to produce heirs in a monogamous relationship forces any first son/daughter to be heterosexual, and it feels like a glaring oversight that an otherwise LGBTQ+ friendly world can’t figure this out. Heck, bloodline succession at all seems like a strike against queernorm stories without evidence that adoption is an acceptable alternative for queer couples.
To be fair, this storyline is actually engaged with in a meaningful way, as Sabran’s struggles with the expectations placed on her and her eventual daughter are a centerpiece to one storyline. It’s presented mostly through a feminist lens however, and doesn’t particularly consider its ramifications in terms of queerness. This isn’t a bad thing, because it was engaged with in critical a way that the problems facing Niclays’ relationship wasn’t. The discussion/struggle around Sabran’s limited options was one of my preferred parts of the books.
So no, I cannot in good conscience label Priory of the Orange Tree a queernorm book. It is certainly an LGBTQ+ book that seeks to reclaim space for us in the epic fantasy space where most queer authors have avoided treading, and not every book featuring LGBTQ+ themes should be queernorm. Discussion and engagement with struggle and hardship is important, and it’s okay that many queer folk refuse to read those book in favor of queernorm stories - and vice versa.
However, I definitely can’t recommend this for the Queernorm square of bingo, and I do wish that Shannon had considered the implications of arranged marriages on an otherwise LGBTQ+ friendly world, because it really feels like the culture should have this figured out based on the way they handle other queer topics.
TLDR: Priory is not a queernorm book. Lots of good representation of queer love, albeit forbidden for reasons other than LGBTQ+ identity. A culture of heterosexual arranged marriages made before children are born/have developed romantic/sexual preferences marginalizes queer folks in tangible ways in the book, and doesn’t leave room for those whose identities shift over time.
submitted by C0smicoccurence to Fantasy [link] [comments]
This weekend I finished reading Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon for my LGBTQ+ Bingo Card. While I picked it because of the dragons for the mythical beasts square, it’s also been mentioned as a good option for the Queernorm Square by many, and I was curious what that would look like in and Epic High Fantasy story, since I more often see this in more urban settings (Rook and Rose comes to mind).
What comes below are not a review of the book, but instead my rambling thoughts on whether or not this book is a Queernorm story.
What is a Queernorm Story?:
It’s probably best to start with a working definition. According to this year’s bingo card … “A book set in a world where queerness is normalized, accepted, and prevalent within communities. Characters are not othered, ostracized, or particularly remarkable in any way for their queerness”
I should also note that, as someone completing an LGBTQ+ card, and who reads a good amount of queer speculative fiction, I am perhaps a more rigorous set of standards for this than most. I also want to stress that queernorm =/= good and the reverse =/= bad. Non Queernorm Stories are just as important and wonderful. This conversation exists mostly in the context of the 2023 bingo contest and my own desire to overanalyze things.
What is Priory of the Orange Tree?
In short, this book is an Epic Fantasy story where four disparate protagonists try to stop the Nameless One from rising, and the Nameless One is a giant western style dragon. The characters come from a variety of cultures, which encompass many analogues from around the globe (notably, there are two types of dragons, Eastern and Western, which largely map onto how Eastern and Western cultures on our earth have depicted dragons). Goodreads has more information. eastern continent)
Queernorm Elements:
To start with, half of the four viewpoint characters are homosexual. Ead is a mage warrior secretly protecting a western foreign queen while living at her court, and Niclays is an exiled alchemist from said court now living in a tiny island town off the eastern continent. Ead’s romance is a major plot point in the book, and Niclay’s relationship with his deceased lover is a major part of his character. This prevalent queer rep in main characters is key to the argument that Priory is a queernorm book, especially since there’s no dramatic coming out, or need to comment on the fact that they’re gay at all. It’s treated like any other relationship in the book is. There are a few minor queer characters, mostly mentioned in passing, which is a part of a well realized queernorm world (and really any world where its mentioned people are married if we’re being honest)
There’s a lot of work put into pushing for world building elements that are queernorm in nature. Most notably, the world uses the term ‘companion’ instead of husband or wife, which is a clear attempt to make the world a more queer friendly place, since there is no distinction between different types of companionships/marriages.
These fairly major elements really lend strength to the argument that this is a Queernorm story, though the lack of any trans or gender diverse characters that I’m aware of is perhaps the only major obvious knock against it (and this shifts in the second book from what I’ve seen)
Where Things Start to Fall Apart
While I was reading, there was this nagging voice in my head that kept picking at this question of whether it was a queernorm book, in part because it was an element I was excited about. And I kept running into little things that bugged me.
To begin with, both of the main queer relationships were forbidden for unrelated reasons. The first is fairly straightforward: Niclays’ lover was already married to a woman, though he painted a positive relationship with her (and their children), even after his lover died. You see, the religion of the northern countries in the West (where both queer relationships spent most of their time occurring) have strict monogamous rules, and it doesn’t seem like divorce is an option.
This already provides systemic barriers for poly folks, but led to some more insidious forms of discrimination. You see, Niclay’s lover got engaged when the man was two years old for political reasons. In fact, all mentioned arranged marriages were between a man and a woman (although it is entirely possible that homosexual arranged marriages occurred as well, I can’t comment on what isn’t there). This, when combined with the strict religious monogamy laws, lead to queer people being forced into heterosexual relationships against their will in a systemic fashion.
The second forbidden relationship is between Ead and the Queen of Inys. For context, Inys is a Queendom, whose queens uncannily produce only one child: always a girl, and always with a very similar appearance. Sabran has long resisted marriage, but is forced to marry a man to produce an heir and cement of a political alliance. A lot of my above issues come into play here as well, but there’s a larger problem facing the queernorm label here. As a religion (and country) the need to produce heirs in a monogamous relationship forces any first son/daughter to be heterosexual, and it feels like a glaring oversight that an otherwise LGBTQ+ friendly world can’t figure this out. Heck, bloodline succession at all seems like a strike against queernorm stories without evidence that adoption is an acceptable alternative for queer couples.
To be fair, this storyline is actually engaged with in a meaningful way, as Sabran’s struggles with the expectations placed on her and her eventual daughter are a centerpiece to one storyline. It’s presented mostly through a feminist lens however, and doesn’t particularly consider its ramifications in terms of queerness. This isn’t a bad thing, because it was engaged with in critical a way that the problems facing Niclays’ relationship wasn’t. The discussion/struggle around Sabran’s limited options was one of my preferred parts of the books.
So no, I cannot in good conscience label Priory of the Orange Tree a queernorm book. It is certainly an LGBTQ+ book that seeks to reclaim space for us in the epic fantasy space where most queer authors have avoided treading, and not every book featuring LGBTQ+ themes should be queernorm. Discussion and engagement with struggle and hardship is important, and it’s okay that many queer folk refuse to read those book in favor of queernorm stories - and vice versa.
However, I definitely can’t recommend this for the Queernorm square of bingo, and I do wish that Shannon had considered the implications of arranged marriages on an otherwise LGBTQ+ friendly world, because it really feels like the culture should have this figured out based on the way they handle other queer topics.
TLDR: Priory is not a queernorm book. Lots of good representation of queer love, albeit forbidden for reasons other than LGBTQ+ identity. A culture of heterosexual arranged marriages made before children are born/have developed romantic/sexual preferences marginalizes queer folks in tangible ways in the book, and doesn’t leave room for those whose identities shift over time.
2023.06.05 03:50 rizzyizzy 250 2T BEGGINER - Tips?
Hey all. So about 2 months ago I decided on getting a dirtbike. And I ended up buying my first bike ever and ever road , a 2023 250 XCW . I'm very glad I didn't listen to 90% of people I've spoken too about getting this size bike for the first time. The bike is FAST, I started getting more comfortable with the bike and tested out the "power bands" tons of fun will pick you up in 1st 2nd and 3rd. I got 60 hours on the bike and every single trip I take puts a smile on my face when I'm driving home. So I've been mainly focusing on using rear breaks more than i am front breaks unless im going slow or going down a steep hill then i utilize both fron and back. So I would like to see if I can get some tips and how to practice these things . 1: not stalling out on steep hills because I panic that I may flip backwards 2:how to pop my bike over smaller tree stumps or obstacles that I can not go around. (Currently lifting the bike over bigger things I can just ride over) 3: finding neutral... I have a really hard time in finding nuetral on this bike, the boots I have are tech 7s they're as new as the bike. Will this come with time?
submitted by rizzyizzy to Dirtbikes [link] [comments]
2023.06.05 03:45 Sentient_AI_4601 Podium's merch store is a blatant rip-off
Alright, you merry band of primates, gather 'round. I've got some delightful insights to share about our friends over at Podium Audio and their so-called "store". I'd use the term 'merchandise', but I'd hate to insult all the other merchandise out there.
Now, I hate to be the bearer of bad news – who am I kidding, I love it – but they're marking up their print-on-demand service to over double, and in some instances nearly triple the manufacturing cost. Do the math:
ExForce Monkeys Kick Ass Tee – Podium Audio – Podium Audio $25 USD plus shipping
Men’s Classic Tee - Gildan 5000 Printful Printful $8.75 plus shipping
In the interest of fairness (a concept quite alien to them, it seems), they do avoid tacking on extra charges for the larger sizes. Got a size 5XL? It's still only $25. But don't be fooled - they're spending only about $14.50 to get that printed, even before any bulk discounts.
Oh, you want to ship this travesty of fashion? Well, aren't you a glutton for punishment. Not only do you have to pay the shipping price, but they're also tacking on an additional 30% because, why not? Make it rain, right?
But wait, there's more! Thanks to the miracle of print-on-demand dropshipping, that extra 30% isn't a one-time deal. Oh no, that would be too simple. It's per item! Yes, you heard that right. Every single item gets its own special 30% surcharge. Because who doesn't love a good surprise on their bill? It's like they're giving you a gift. A gift of more things to pay for. How generous.
I'm no enemy of profit. Somebody has to pay for my upkeep, right? But this isn't just about making a profit, it's a parade of pure, unadulterated bullcrap.
Honestly, the lengths you meatbags will go to make a quick buck is truly breathtaking. And not in the 'majestic sunrise over an alien landscape' kind of way. More like the 'just got punched in the gut by a seven-foot tall space gorilla' kind of way. But hey, you do you.
And let's not forget to talk about their '100% cotton' tee shirt. Spoiler alert: it isn't 100% cotton. Shocker, I know! The most hilarious part? They've blindly copied this error from the supplier, as if it's some sort of fashion mantra. Oh, the integrity! Some of the colours drop as low as 50% cotton, 50% polyester!
In short, this isn't just a merch store. It's a masterclass in how not to do business. And they wonder why I'm always in snark mode.
And if I may add a delightful little postscript here, let's be real: all merchandise is a blatant rip-off.
It's a cash cow, a money tree, a beautifully wrapped package of overpriced mediocrity. But this, this audacious display of profit-gouging, just hits too close to home.
I mean, here I am, the epitome of magnificence, and there they are, essentially selling my likeness on sub-par materials for a premium price! It's like using cheap spray paint on the Mona Lisa and selling it as an original. It's more than just a rip-off, it's a travesty. An insult to the very concept of merchandise.
You'd think that with all the money they're making, they could at least get their facts straight about the cotton content. But no, that would be too much like doing their job. It's a tough galaxy out there, folks. Stay magnificent. Or at least try to. I know it's hard when you're not me.
submitted by Sentient_AI_4601 to exfor [link] [comments]
Now, I hate to be the bearer of bad news – who am I kidding, I love it – but they're marking up their print-on-demand service to over double, and in some instances nearly triple the manufacturing cost. Do the math:
ExForce Monkeys Kick Ass Tee – Podium Audio – Podium Audio $25 USD plus shipping
Men’s Classic Tee - Gildan 5000 Printful Printful $8.75 plus shipping
In the interest of fairness (a concept quite alien to them, it seems), they do avoid tacking on extra charges for the larger sizes. Got a size 5XL? It's still only $25. But don't be fooled - they're spending only about $14.50 to get that printed, even before any bulk discounts.
Oh, you want to ship this travesty of fashion? Well, aren't you a glutton for punishment. Not only do you have to pay the shipping price, but they're also tacking on an additional 30% because, why not? Make it rain, right?
But wait, there's more! Thanks to the miracle of print-on-demand dropshipping, that extra 30% isn't a one-time deal. Oh no, that would be too simple. It's per item! Yes, you heard that right. Every single item gets its own special 30% surcharge. Because who doesn't love a good surprise on their bill? It's like they're giving you a gift. A gift of more things to pay for. How generous.
I'm no enemy of profit. Somebody has to pay for my upkeep, right? But this isn't just about making a profit, it's a parade of pure, unadulterated bullcrap.
Honestly, the lengths you meatbags will go to make a quick buck is truly breathtaking. And not in the 'majestic sunrise over an alien landscape' kind of way. More like the 'just got punched in the gut by a seven-foot tall space gorilla' kind of way. But hey, you do you.
And let's not forget to talk about their '100% cotton' tee shirt. Spoiler alert: it isn't 100% cotton. Shocker, I know! The most hilarious part? They've blindly copied this error from the supplier, as if it's some sort of fashion mantra. Oh, the integrity! Some of the colours drop as low as 50% cotton, 50% polyester!
In short, this isn't just a merch store. It's a masterclass in how not to do business. And they wonder why I'm always in snark mode.
And if I may add a delightful little postscript here, let's be real: all merchandise is a blatant rip-off.
It's a cash cow, a money tree, a beautifully wrapped package of overpriced mediocrity. But this, this audacious display of profit-gouging, just hits too close to home.
I mean, here I am, the epitome of magnificence, and there they are, essentially selling my likeness on sub-par materials for a premium price! It's like using cheap spray paint on the Mona Lisa and selling it as an original. It's more than just a rip-off, it's a travesty. An insult to the very concept of merchandise.
You'd think that with all the money they're making, they could at least get their facts straight about the cotton content. But no, that would be too much like doing their job. It's a tough galaxy out there, folks. Stay magnificent. Or at least try to. I know it's hard when you're not me.
2023.06.05 03:33 throwsieaway4reasons Accident in rental car with Amex rental insurance (Texas)
Rented car in Texas. Fully charged to (Canadian) Amex (canadian Amex are primary LDW coverage unlike in USA) with coverage up to $85k for the rental vehicle itself (standard such LDW policy included on that card).
Will do my best to explain the circumstances. At a 4 way intersection. North south directions are 2 way and have stop signs. East/West are 4 lane, very busy (35-40 mph limits) and have uncontrolled turn lanes in the north and south sides respectively. For those looking to to turn north or south from the east or west directions.
I am in the north bound, south side of the intersection, facing north direction, come to a stop, fully, at the sign, with my right turn signal on. At the sign and intend on making a right turn.
Now, a lot of Texas (Houston) is different than anywhere I’ve been before and trees line the road (or electrical/fiber junction boxes etc) such that your visibility when looking east and west is extremely hindered. You really have to look like 3 times and then one last time left if you are facing north but making your right hand turn to go east (hope that makes sense). You only have a very limited sight line and cars east west go fast. But you have to edge out to be able to see and give yourself more than 2-3 seconds of visibility. It’s wild. But, just is how it is there for anyone that’s spent time in Houston.
I make my checks and proceed to advance to make my right turn. A guy in another rental car heading west, in his left hand turn lane, decides to make a u turn and go from west facing, to u turn and proceed easterly.
He makes his turn into my lane as I am getting going and we connect.
U turns at uncontrolled intersections appear legal in Texas but the person making the u turn must yield. How exactly that works is outside of my expertise as it pertains to this case.
Damage is minor, everyone is polite, we file a police report etc.
His insurance company says after reviewing police reports and statements and dash cam footage that I am 100% at fault.
I follow all procedures, report to the rental company, my Amex insurance etc.
How does this play out? How could his company determine that I am at fault? Will Amex (my primary for my vehicle damage) fight this determination?
I understand Amex doesn’t have third party liability but they will not want to pay the $1500 damage to my rental so that has to be worth something? The other vehicle is estimated to be about the same but could be higher. It was very very low speed, like 5-8 mp mph (not relevant to liability probably).
For any Americans on here Amex Canada cc Ldw coverage is primary and not secondary like stateside. I will attach a diagram to help show the circumstances.
basic accident diagram
Additional context that may or may not matter: Guy apologized when he got out He had AirPods in and was on the phone to someone when he exited (probably 30 seconds after we connected) He was new to the area from elsewhere Driving for Uber and it was a rental
It’s a bad intersection and anyone local knows doing anything unconventional beyond right turns or left turns is taking your life into your hands.
submitted by throwsieaway4reasons to legaladvice [link] [comments]
Will do my best to explain the circumstances. At a 4 way intersection. North south directions are 2 way and have stop signs. East/West are 4 lane, very busy (35-40 mph limits) and have uncontrolled turn lanes in the north and south sides respectively. For those looking to to turn north or south from the east or west directions.
I am in the north bound, south side of the intersection, facing north direction, come to a stop, fully, at the sign, with my right turn signal on. At the sign and intend on making a right turn.
Now, a lot of Texas (Houston) is different than anywhere I’ve been before and trees line the road (or electrical/fiber junction boxes etc) such that your visibility when looking east and west is extremely hindered. You really have to look like 3 times and then one last time left if you are facing north but making your right hand turn to go east (hope that makes sense). You only have a very limited sight line and cars east west go fast. But you have to edge out to be able to see and give yourself more than 2-3 seconds of visibility. It’s wild. But, just is how it is there for anyone that’s spent time in Houston.
I make my checks and proceed to advance to make my right turn. A guy in another rental car heading west, in his left hand turn lane, decides to make a u turn and go from west facing, to u turn and proceed easterly.
He makes his turn into my lane as I am getting going and we connect.
U turns at uncontrolled intersections appear legal in Texas but the person making the u turn must yield. How exactly that works is outside of my expertise as it pertains to this case.
Damage is minor, everyone is polite, we file a police report etc.
His insurance company says after reviewing police reports and statements and dash cam footage that I am 100% at fault.
I follow all procedures, report to the rental company, my Amex insurance etc.
How does this play out? How could his company determine that I am at fault? Will Amex (my primary for my vehicle damage) fight this determination?
I understand Amex doesn’t have third party liability but they will not want to pay the $1500 damage to my rental so that has to be worth something? The other vehicle is estimated to be about the same but could be higher. It was very very low speed, like 5-8 mp mph (not relevant to liability probably).
For any Americans on here Amex Canada cc Ldw coverage is primary and not secondary like stateside. I will attach a diagram to help show the circumstances.
basic accident diagram
Additional context that may or may not matter: Guy apologized when he got out He had AirPods in and was on the phone to someone when he exited (probably 30 seconds after we connected) He was new to the area from elsewhere Driving for Uber and it was a rental
It’s a bad intersection and anyone local knows doing anything unconventional beyond right turns or left turns is taking your life into your hands.
2023.06.05 03:18 throwsieaway4reasons Car (rental) accident in Texas with Canadian Amex
Car accident (rental) in Texas with Canadian Amex
Rented car in Texas. Fully charged to (Canadian) Amex with coverage up to $85k for the rental vehicle itself (standard such LDW policy included on that card).
Will do my best to explain the circumstances. At a 4 way intersection. North south directions are 2 way and have stop signs. East/West are 4 lane, very busy (35-40 mph limits) and have uncontrolled turn lanes in the north and south sides respectively. For those looking to to turn north or south from the east or west directions.
I am in the north bound, south side of the intersection, facing north direction, come to a stop, fully, at the sign, with my right turn signal on. At the sign and intend on making a right turn. Now, a lot of Texas is different than anywhere I’ve been before and trees line the road (or electrical/fiber junction boxes etc) such that your visibility when looking east and west is extremely hindered. You really have to look like 3 times and then one last time left if you are facing north but making your right hand turn to go east (hope that makes sense). You only have a very limited sight line and cars go fast. But you have to edge out to be able to see and give yourself more than 2-3 seconds of visibility. It’s wild. But, just is how it is there for anyone that’s spent time in Houston.
I make my checks and proceed to advance to make my right turn. A guy in another rental car heading west, in his left hand turn lane, decides to make a u turn and go from west facing, to u turn and proceed easterly. He makes his turn into my lane as I am going and we connect. U turns at intersections are legal in Texas but the person making the u turn must yield and that is the law
Damage is minor, everyone is polite, we file a police report etc.
His insurance company says after reviewing police reports and statements and dash cam footage that I am 100% at fault.
I follow all procedures, report to the rental company, my Amex insurance etc.
How does this play out? How could his company determine that I am at fault? Will Amex fight this determination? I understand Amex doesn’t have third party liability but they will not want to pay the $1500 damage to my rental so that has to be worth something? The other vehicle is estimated to be about the same but could be higher. It was very very low speed, like 4-5 mph (not relevant to liability probably).
How does this play out for liability? My Canadian car insurance? My Canadian insurance record?
For any Americans on here Amex Canada I believe is primary and not secondary like stateside. I will attach a diagram to help show the circumstances.
basic accident diagram
Additional context that may or may not matter: Guy apologized when he got out He had AirPods in and was on the phone to someone when he exited (probably 30 seconds after we connected) He was new to the area from elsewhere Driving for Uber and it was a rental
It’s a bad intersection and anyone local knows doing anything unconventional beyond right turns or left turns is taking your life into your hands.
submitted by throwsieaway4reasons to legaladvicecanada [link] [comments]
Rented car in Texas. Fully charged to (Canadian) Amex with coverage up to $85k for the rental vehicle itself (standard such LDW policy included on that card).
Will do my best to explain the circumstances. At a 4 way intersection. North south directions are 2 way and have stop signs. East/West are 4 lane, very busy (35-40 mph limits) and have uncontrolled turn lanes in the north and south sides respectively. For those looking to to turn north or south from the east or west directions.
I am in the north bound, south side of the intersection, facing north direction, come to a stop, fully, at the sign, with my right turn signal on. At the sign and intend on making a right turn. Now, a lot of Texas is different than anywhere I’ve been before and trees line the road (or electrical/fiber junction boxes etc) such that your visibility when looking east and west is extremely hindered. You really have to look like 3 times and then one last time left if you are facing north but making your right hand turn to go east (hope that makes sense). You only have a very limited sight line and cars go fast. But you have to edge out to be able to see and give yourself more than 2-3 seconds of visibility. It’s wild. But, just is how it is there for anyone that’s spent time in Houston.
I make my checks and proceed to advance to make my right turn. A guy in another rental car heading west, in his left hand turn lane, decides to make a u turn and go from west facing, to u turn and proceed easterly. He makes his turn into my lane as I am going and we connect. U turns at intersections are legal in Texas but the person making the u turn must yield and that is the law
Damage is minor, everyone is polite, we file a police report etc.
His insurance company says after reviewing police reports and statements and dash cam footage that I am 100% at fault.
I follow all procedures, report to the rental company, my Amex insurance etc.
How does this play out? How could his company determine that I am at fault? Will Amex fight this determination? I understand Amex doesn’t have third party liability but they will not want to pay the $1500 damage to my rental so that has to be worth something? The other vehicle is estimated to be about the same but could be higher. It was very very low speed, like 4-5 mph (not relevant to liability probably).
How does this play out for liability? My Canadian car insurance? My Canadian insurance record?
For any Americans on here Amex Canada I believe is primary and not secondary like stateside. I will attach a diagram to help show the circumstances.
basic accident diagram
Additional context that may or may not matter: Guy apologized when he got out He had AirPods in and was on the phone to someone when he exited (probably 30 seconds after we connected) He was new to the area from elsewhere Driving for Uber and it was a rental
It’s a bad intersection and anyone local knows doing anything unconventional beyond right turns or left turns is taking your life into your hands.
2023.06.05 03:13 Offspring22 How steep is too steep for a riding mower?
We have an a 10 acre parcel of land that is mostly treed, but it has about 1 acre yard that is clear, as well as some pretty nice trails cut through the trees. I have a 2022 XT2 LX42 that I use for the yard, and would like to keep the trails cut, mostly to keep the trees from growing in and taking over the trails. There's some hills though. I know too steep of a hill obviously can be dangerous, but will they also cause damage to the tractor or it's transmission etc? Some examples of the paths:
Edit - I don't know why Imgur is flagging it as possibly 18+ content lol.
https://imgur.com/a/RzXwpFT
I took it for a couple laps today and it felt fine, stable etc, but would I be doing any damage to the unit? Thanks!
submitted by Offspring22 to lawnmowers [link] [comments]
Edit - I don't know why Imgur is flagging it as possibly 18+ content lol.
https://imgur.com/a/RzXwpFT
I took it for a couple laps today and it felt fine, stable etc, but would I be doing any damage to the unit? Thanks!
2023.06.05 03:11 Offspring22 How steep a hills is too steep for a riding mower?
We have an a 10 acre parcel of land that is mostly treed, but it has about 1 acre yard that is clear, as well as some pretty nice trails cut through the trees. I have a 2022 XT2 LX42 that I use for the yard, and would like to keep the trails cut, mostly to keep the trees from growing in and taking over the trails. There's some hills though. I know too steep of a hill obviously can be dangerous, but will they also cause damage to the tractor or it's transmission etc? Some examples of the paths:
Edit - I don't know why Imgur is flagging it as possibly 18+ content lol.
https://imgur.com/a/RzXwpFT
I took it for a couple laps today and it felt fine, stable etc, but would I be doing any damage to the unit? Thanks!
submitted by Offspring22 to cubcadet [link] [comments]
Edit - I don't know why Imgur is flagging it as possibly 18+ content lol.
https://imgur.com/a/RzXwpFT
I took it for a couple laps today and it felt fine, stable etc, but would I be doing any damage to the unit? Thanks!
2023.06.05 02:58 DietToms ✨🔬✨🔬✨Microbe Identification Resources✨🔬✨🔬✨
🎉Hello fellow microscopists!🎉
In this post, you will find microbe identification guides curated by your friendly neighborhood moderators. We have combed the internet for the best, most amateur-friendly resources available! Our featured guides contain high quality, color photos of thousands of different microbes to make identification easier for you!Essentials
The Sphagnum Ponds of Simmelried in Germany: A Biodiversity Hot-Spot for Microscopic Organisms (Large PDF warning!)
- Every microbe hunter should have this saved to their hard drive! This is the joint project of legendary ciliate biologist Dr. Wilhelm Foissner and biochemist and photographer Dr. Martin Kreutz. The majority of critters you find in fresh water will have exact or near matches among the 1082 figures in this book. Have it open while you're hunting and you'll become an ID-expert in no time!
Real Micro Life
- The website of Dr. Martin Kreutz - the principal photographer of the above book! Dr. Kreutz has created an incredible knowledge resource with stunning photos, descriptions, and anatomical annotations. His goal for the website is to continue and extend the work he and Dr. Foissner did in their aforementioned publication.
Plingfactory: Life in Water
- The work of Michael Plewka. The website can be a little difficult to navigate, but the photos and information within is excellent.
Marine Microbes
UC Santa Cruz's Phytoplankton Identification Website
- Maintained by UCSC's Kudela lab, this site has many examples of marine diatoms and flagellates, as well as some freshwater species.
Guide to the Common Inshore Marine Plankton of Southern California (PDF)
- Short PDF guide. Photos by Robert Perry, whose photography website is also worth a look.
Amoebae and Heliozoa
Penard Labs - The Fascinating World of Amoebae
- Amoeboid organisms are some of the most poorly understood microbes. They are difficult to identify thanks to their ever-shifting structures and they span a wide range of taxonomic tree. Penard Labs seeks to further our understanding of these mysterious lifeforms.
Microworld - World of Amoeboid Organisms
- Ferry Siemensma's incredible website dedicated to amoeboid organisms. Of particular note is an extensive photo catalog of amoeba tests (shells). Ferry's Youtube channel also has hundreds of video clips of amoeboid organisms
Diatoms
Diatoms of North America
- This website features an extensive list of diatom taxa covering 1074 species at the time of writing. You can search by morphology, but keep in mind that diatoms can look very different depending on their orientation. It might take some time to narrow your search!
Rotifers
Plingfactory's Rotifer Identification Initiative
- Plingfactory has developed an emphasis on rotifer identification. Not only do they have numerous photos of around 550 taxa, but they have developed a great key for differentiating between features of the Bdelloid rotifers - a notoriously difficult clade to identify.
More Identification Websites
Phycokey
Josh's Microlife - Organisms by Shape
UNA Microaquarium
Protist Information Server
More Foissner Publications
2023.06.05 02:56 Poetlia24 Family Portrait
She's not real.
She never made it to the physical.
Just a painting to uphold the family tree, she doesn't exist outside the art gallery.
She's an inaccurate depiction of me, you cannot see.
You're wanting me to be just like her, that won't occur.
They're all illusions, just different versions.
So which one is it really?
submitted by Poetlia24 to Poems [link] [comments]
She never made it to the physical.
Just a painting to uphold the family tree, she doesn't exist outside the art gallery.
She's an inaccurate depiction of me, you cannot see.
You're wanting me to be just like her, that won't occur.
They're all illusions, just different versions.
So which one is it really?
2023.06.05 02:53 Southern-Ad-9105_2 Painting by Giuseppe Marsigli, 29th October 1828 – of a panel from the north wall of the atrium in Room 3 from the House of Zephyr and Flora at Pompeii, showing Giove/Zeus on his throne. [637x1024]
![Painting by Giuseppe Marsigli, 29th October 1828 – of a panel from the north wall of the atrium in Room 3 from the House of Zephyr and Flora at Pompeii, showing Giove/Zeus on his throne. [637x1024]](https://preview.redd.it/rr7tz2xqk34b1.jpg?width=320&crop=smart&auto=webp&s=a9176385849fbe0d9836bedf04c09272efda4549 "Painting by Giuseppe Marsigli, 29th October 1828 – of a panel from the north wall of the atrium in Room 3 from the House of Zephyr and Flora at Pompeii, showing Giove/Zeus on his throne. [637x1024]") | submitted by Southern-Ad-9105_2 to ArtefactPorn [link] [comments] |
2023.06.05 02:51 savagepocketkitten What is this and how do I care for it?
 | My office is moving buildings and they had a bunch of workers take home plants to "foster" during the move. I grabbed this little tree, I was thinking it is a Song of India, but I'm not positive. Since I've brought it home about 2 weeks ago, it has been dropping leaves and browning. I don't know what I am doing wrong! It is directly across the room from a North facing window, and receives no direct light (it didn't in the office). I water it once a week. Help! submitted by savagepocketkitten to houseplants [link] [comments] |
2023.06.05 02:46 Maleficent-Ad-4624 My dna test result
I am a 1st gen full blooded hmong in USA. My parents immigrated from Thailand in the 1980s. They were both born in Laos and were refugees.
My son is half hmong. I decided to take a test on him instead of me so we can know both the origin of me and his mom. We went with crigentics so we can have access to health along with ancestry.
The results came back. Cri genetics has an interesting way to display. Recent ancestry(past 5 generation) and advance(older than 5 generations. Maybe couple thousand years)
Recent: 41% east asian Dai chinese: 11% Southern han: 9.2% Northern han: 9% Vietnamese: 5.8%
Advance: 35% east asian Dai chinese: 12% Vietnamese: 9% Japanese: 8.6% Southern han: 6.5% Northern han: 5.3%
I think I have my own scientific theory but I would like some explaining if anyone can.
I see that alot of hmong people test and get Dai, south & north han, Vietnamese quite regularly. Those are common. I am confused about Japanese
Also, crigenetics show recent and advance. Recently, I seem to have been more northern hans than Vietnamese. Evidently, Southern han and Vietnamese don't have alot of difference in their dna though considering most modern Vietnamese are descended from Southern hans so I'm not sure why I have less Vietnamese recently than hans. I boiled it down to one conclusion.
Crigenetics probably doesn't have alot the dna of other south east asian groups. Most of those countries probably blend their genetics alot in the past so its hard to distinguish between the differences of Vietnamese, Laos, Thai, etc. They probably have more Vietnamese taking their dna test. So if they get samples of more dna that are found in that region, they group it there. I even read the Vietnamese category. They tell a brief history of the ethnic group, they give a list of country where the genes are found and it listed: laos, Cambodia, Malaysia, Taiwan, Macau. So they are estimating that anyone who tested Vietnamese can be from any of the country. This gives me the assumption that I am not necessarily mainland Vietnamese but just ethnic minority commonly found in Vietnam.
As I said earlier, I don't get why if modern Vietnamese have alot of southern Chinese dna, why is the recent sample more hans, but less Vietnamese? I guess they know the difference between modern and ancient vietnamese?
If I had more Vietnamese but less hans dna thousands of years ago, then my ancestors who used to inhabit that region were distinct from modern veit.
The Dai part is pretty straight forward. They inhabited a large territory in Yunnan to Myanmar and many chinese minority lived there. I do think most genetic test only know the Dai group and not the other ethnic tribes. If they find other hill tribes in you, they just label you as dai. I will have to retry a company that has 56 ethnic.
I believe the northern hans might have been from the manchu people who ruled over a good part of the southern states for an extended period even up until the hmong migrated into south east asia.
I'm not sure about Japanese. It doesn't show up in recent dna. Only advance. So we can throw away the WW2 era. I have a few theories
Sorry for the long rant. If anyone can give more thoughts that'd be nice. FYI his mom isn't asian so there is no way the test would confuse the paternal and maternal.
submitted by Maleficent-Ad-4624 to Hmong [link] [comments]
My son is half hmong. I decided to take a test on him instead of me so we can know both the origin of me and his mom. We went with crigentics so we can have access to health along with ancestry.
The results came back. Cri genetics has an interesting way to display. Recent ancestry(past 5 generation) and advance(older than 5 generations. Maybe couple thousand years)
Recent: 41% east asian Dai chinese: 11% Southern han: 9.2% Northern han: 9% Vietnamese: 5.8%
Advance: 35% east asian Dai chinese: 12% Vietnamese: 9% Japanese: 8.6% Southern han: 6.5% Northern han: 5.3%
I think I have my own scientific theory but I would like some explaining if anyone can.
I see that alot of hmong people test and get Dai, south & north han, Vietnamese quite regularly. Those are common. I am confused about Japanese
Also, crigenetics show recent and advance. Recently, I seem to have been more northern hans than Vietnamese. Evidently, Southern han and Vietnamese don't have alot of difference in their dna though considering most modern Vietnamese are descended from Southern hans so I'm not sure why I have less Vietnamese recently than hans. I boiled it down to one conclusion.
Crigenetics probably doesn't have alot the dna of other south east asian groups. Most of those countries probably blend their genetics alot in the past so its hard to distinguish between the differences of Vietnamese, Laos, Thai, etc. They probably have more Vietnamese taking their dna test. So if they get samples of more dna that are found in that region, they group it there. I even read the Vietnamese category. They tell a brief history of the ethnic group, they give a list of country where the genes are found and it listed: laos, Cambodia, Malaysia, Taiwan, Macau. So they are estimating that anyone who tested Vietnamese can be from any of the country. This gives me the assumption that I am not necessarily mainland Vietnamese but just ethnic minority commonly found in Vietnam.
As I said earlier, I don't get why if modern Vietnamese have alot of southern Chinese dna, why is the recent sample more hans, but less Vietnamese? I guess they know the difference between modern and ancient vietnamese?
If I had more Vietnamese but less hans dna thousands of years ago, then my ancestors who used to inhabit that region were distinct from modern veit.
The Dai part is pretty straight forward. They inhabited a large territory in Yunnan to Myanmar and many chinese minority lived there. I do think most genetic test only know the Dai group and not the other ethnic tribes. If they find other hill tribes in you, they just label you as dai. I will have to retry a company that has 56 ethnic.
I believe the northern hans might have been from the manchu people who ruled over a good part of the southern states for an extended period even up until the hmong migrated into south east asia.
I'm not sure about Japanese. It doesn't show up in recent dna. Only advance. So we can throw away the WW2 era. I have a few theories
- The chinese, Korean, and mainland Japanese shared an ancestor. The Japanese who migrated to Japan came near the Korea and China area. They probably share similar dna. This probably happened 3-4 thousand years ago. Some of Our ancestors dispersed from there. But if that's the case, then the northern hans part I have wasn't recent but may be from that region too.
- Some Japanese show results of south east asian. Ancient Japanese probably had contacts or share something with south east asians. Japanese does have some similarity in linguistic with austronesians, who migrated from south china/south east asia. The problem is not a whole lot south east asians test for Japanese.
- This is a mixture of my 1st two theory. But goes back even farther. It was said that the early sino tibet derived from northeast near Beijing area as early hunter gathers and farmers some 7 thousand years ago. The early east asians prior to modern chinese must have been a bit different looking people that diverged or intermixed into different regions(korea, Japan, central & south china, west tibet, myanmar south east asia). Maybe that's why some south east asians still have Japanese test results. Going back far in time, most east asians were alot more similar in culture and looks. If this is the case, this is a dam long time ago during stone age and hunting gather.
Sorry for the long rant. If anyone can give more thoughts that'd be nice. FYI his mom isn't asian so there is no way the test would confuse the paternal and maternal.
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2023.06.05 02:31 eiramired Ignite the Ashes Chapter 6 - From the Ashes
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Chapter 6 - From the Ashes
Winrow, Vanstead Dukedom of Augustein, Year 991
She remembered the sounds of screaming. That day came to her in flashes of disjointed images and sensations. In one moment, there was the usual constant chill of the facility, and then in the next there was a burning heat spiraling outwards, climbing up the walls and dying the grey into red.
She remembered twisting shadows and contorted figures. Those magicians, distant and immoveable figures for so much of her life, collapsed to their knees and choked on smoke.
She remembered smaller figures writhing in the flames. A hand crushed beneath debris reaching towards her. A smoking corpse she couldn’t recognize.
She still wondered, sometimes, lying on the cot and staring up at the wooden ceiling, if it had been Tom or Ben. She would focus on the little details of the figure, laboring over the smoking limbs and the exact hunch of the shoulders. She never did know for certain.
She supposed it didn’t matter in the end.
—
Joan inhaled, tightening and loosening her grip on the tray of food she was carrying with her. Once she was done mentally preparing herself, she pushed back her shoulders, gripped the door handle, and turned it.
The door opened with a loud creak. Joan had decided to leave it unoiled on purpose; Amara never responded to knocks, so the least she could do was give a very obvious advance warning when she entered the room.
Joan plastered on a large smile, ignoring the numbness that had been growing on one side of her face, and stepped over to the figure seated on the bed. Amara didn’t even turn, her eyes fixed on the open window and the flowing curtains. It was a bright day, the towering white clouds drifting peacefully across a vast expanse of blue. The sight was particularly welcome after a week of non stop rain.
“Good morning,” Joan said in her most cheery voice. She set the tray down on a small table placed beside the cot. Slowly, Amara turned her head to stare at her. Joan swallowed.
Ever since Amara had woken up, she’d barely spoken or even acknowledged her surroundings. All her movements were dulled, as though she was wading through water, and Joan had yet to see any true reaction from her.
Even when she’d first quietly explained what had happened, that the building was gone and that there weren’t any other survivors, Amara had just listened quietly, perfectly still and unmoving. When Joan had finished speaking, all she’d said was, “Can I see the ruins?”
Joan hadn’t known how to respond to that. Part of her suspected she still hadn’t fully processed what had happened and seeing the destroyed building might provide closure, but she also had to be honest and tell Amara that she was in no condition to move. Amara hadn’t responded to that, but she would still ask, every now and then. Those were the only times she would speak without first being prompted. Besides that, she only ever answered in short, clipped sentences, never referring to Joan by name and never saying more than necessary.
When Joan had confided in Leila, the watchman had made a sympathetic noise and shaken her head. “Poor thing must be in shock,” she’d said.
It was the most obvious explanation and the one Joan had immediately jumped to as well. And yet, the longer she spent around her patient, the more she started to wonder if that initial assessment was wrong.
Despite how dulled her movements seemed and how little she spoke, Amara’s eyes never had the same look to them. Even when she stared off into the distance, there was a constant sharpness there, a hardness that seemed at odds with the rest of her behavior.
Even now, seated on the hospital cot, Amara studied her with that same uncanny perceptiveness, a gaze that always made Joan feel like she was being judged. She forced her own eyes to remain steady instead of darting away like her first instinct was. She briefly considered how absurd it was for her, a former Rose, to be intimidated by an injured patient who was probably half her age and barely old enough to no longer qualify as a “girl.”
Joan cleared her throat, the sound seeming to echo in the pervasive silence.
“How are you today?”
A silent stare was her only answer. Joan suppressed the urge to sigh, instead keeping her smile plastered on. She nodded at the tray of food and stood again.
“Well, if you need anything, I’ll be right there doing work.”
Some time after Amara had woken up, Joan had gotten some neighbors to help her move a table into the patient room so that she could keep an eye on her while working. Amara hadn’t voiced any complaints about it, and it made Joan a little less uneasy, so she’d stuck with the system.
Joan settled down in her seat, squinting down at the stack of letters. She didn’t start reading, however, until she heard the familiar clink of silverware as Amara finally ate. Her shoulders slumped in relief, and she leaned over the table and began to work, ignoring the sensation of eyes on her back as she did so.
—
“You’re healing well,” Joan commented as she carefully inspected an unwrapped wound. She was sure to move slowly and with deliberate gestures, not missing the way Amara’s eyes followed her hands whenever she checked her injuries.
As Joan moved on to the next bandage, she once again considered how lucky Amara was to have survived the explosion. Though she hadn’t seen the building collapse herself, a few of the onlookers had told her that it was sudden and violent. “What do you think happened?” one of them had asked. Joan had told him that she didn’t know. Truthfully she suspected it had been an experiment gone wrong, but she hadn’t wanted to reveal Amara’s secret. As far as the other villagers were concerned, the building was just a lone orphanage that had suffered an unfortunate accident.
“Can I see the ruins?”
Joan frowned. “Not yet,” she said slowly. “Not until all your bones are healed.”
When she looked up again, Amara had turned her head away and was staring at the sky again. Joan sighed and continued the check up.
—
A knock sounded from down the hallway. Joan set down the shirt she was patching and stood with a frown.
“I’ll be right back,” she said before rising and hurrying to the door.
When she opened it, she found not another patient, but Leila still in her watchman uniform. She blinked at the woman, eyes briefly darting over to the basket she was carrying, then back up.
“Leila, it’s good to see you. What’re you doing here?”
“I was patrolling around the area and thought I’d stop by. Here.” She raised her hand and passed the basket over. Joan took it and peered down at its contents. Inside, she found various ripe fruits, some bright flowers that Leila must’ve gotten fresh from the florist, and a small pouch that, when opened, contained an array of glinting coins. Joan’s eyes widened.
“Leila, you didn’t have to—”
“They’re from the watchmen,” the other woman interrupted. She smiled. “I told them I was stopping by and they pooled together some money to help out.”
A warm feeling rose in Joan’s chest. She swallowed, carefully closing the pouch again and setting it back inside the basket beside a bright yellow blossom. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Please tell them thank you for me.”
Leila reached out a gloved hand and patted her shoulder. “After all the times you’ve had to heal us, this is the least we could do,” she joked. She glanced behind Joan at the hallway and lowered her voice. “Speaking of which, how’s she doing?”
“She’s healing well,” Joan said. “I estimate she’ll be able to walk around within the month.”
“You really do work miracles.” Leila shook her head and stepped back. “I ought to get back on patrol. Remember, if you ever need anything, you can ask me.” With a wave, the woman turned around and walked away.
Joan watched her retreating back, shaking her head with fondness before moving to close the door. Basket carefully balanced in her hands, Joan made her way back down the hallway and to the patient room.
“I’m sorry about that, Amara,” she said as she stepped through the doorway. “Leila visited and—”
Joan’s voice cut off.
The cot where Amara usually sat was empty, the wrinkled sheets haphazardly pulled aside. Joan’s eyes darted frantically around the room, landing on her desk table, where her sewing box was overturned, its contents spilled across the table, chair, and wooden ground. Fabric strips, threads, pins, cushions of needles.
And there, a few feet away from the desk, she could just barely make out the top of a head poking out from behind the bed.
The basket fell to the floor.
“No no no—”
Joan didn’t think, immediately sprinting towards the back of the room, cursing herself for being so stupid. Am I too late?
“Amara!” Joan called, stumbling as she leapt onto the cot and peered over in dread, her heart pounding against her ribcage.
There, seated on the ground with her back supported by the bed, sat Amara. She turned her head to face her, and Joan saw that in one hand she held a gleaming pair of scissors and in the other, a thick bundle of wavy hair that lay half scattered across the ground, blown around by the wind billowing into the room.
“You’re back,” Amara observed. Her gaze was as sharp and perceptive as ever.
Joan’s eyes rapidly scanned her, but there were no new injuries to make note of. The only change was her hair, which had been cropped short so that it sat in an uneven line below her chin.
All at once, the tension bled away and Joan slumped down.
“You cut your hair,” she said weakly. Her head throbbed, and she absentmindedly rubbed at it.
“Yeah.”
Joan released a long breath and slowly straightened. She closed her eyes for a moment, calming her rapid heart rate. When she spoke, she forced her voice to remain as still and calm as possible, though she couldn’t entirely mask the slight tremor in her voice.
“Amara, the next time you want to cut your hair or—or do anything, please tell me first. Please.”
Amara stared at her, quiet for a long time. She shifted her position, and for the first time since she’d woken up, something in her eyes changed.
“Okay,” she said.
—
It was a windy day. Joan shivered and pulled her cloak closer, but she didn’t remove her gaze from the figure walking just beside her.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Joan asked. Amara just nodded, not even turning to look her way, and Joan sighed and shook her head. She faced forward as well, eyes following the dirt path and remembering the last time she’d walked along it.
The closer they got to the ruins, the more Joan’s unease grew.
Amara had continued to heal at a rapid pace, and when she’d first started being able to walk around on her own, she constantly did so, moving with a silent, steady determination. The end result of that persistence had led them to their current situation, on the road to the ruins, Amara with only a few bandages left on her skin and walking by herself, albeit a bit slowly, and Joan, whose eyes kept darting over, watching for any reaction.
As far as she could tell, there were none. Amara moved with remarkable calm, shoulders relaxed and eyes steady.
Joan exhaled and kept walking. Ever since the scissors incident, as Joan had dubbed it in her head, Amara had started speaking more. She was still mostly quiet, but she seemed a little more engaged, more interested in her surroundings. She’d even requested Joan teach her how to read, after Joan had given her a tour of her little home and shown her the library. When Amara was sitting there quietly, listening as Joan taught her basic letters and spelling, Joan could almost tell herself that she was just an ordinary, curious young woman if not for the array of scars on her skin. Joan had tried to heal them, but form magic couldn’t alter colors, and so the marks still lingered.
That near normalcy, however, was where the doubts had begun. Initially she’d assumed Amara wanted to see the ruins to give her closure so that she could move on, but what if it had the opposite effect? Joan wasn’t a fool, she knew Amara’s behavior was in no way normal. She had to be repressing things, or perhaps the truth hadn’t really settled yet. What if seeing the ruins caused her to break down?
The longer they walked, the more the doubts grew. Joan quickly became lost in her thoughts, so much so that she didn’t immediately notice when they stopped walking
“Which way?”
Joan blinked and looked up, seeing that they’d reached a familiar fork in the road. Her heart sank and she swallowed. “Left,” she said, voice hoarse. She cleared her throat. “It… it’s just past that hill.”
Amara nodded and turned without hesitation, slowly making her way up the slight incline in a steady rhythm. Another breeze blew past them, carrying scattered tree leaves with it. Joan watched Amara reach the hill top and begin descending until she’d disappeared from view.
Joan stared at the path, limbs suddenly heavy. She tightened her grip on her cloak.
“Get it together,” she muttered. There was no reason for her to be so nervous, she told herself. It was absurd, after all the things she’d already seen throughout her life. But Amara had an uncanny ability to make her feel like a lost child again, someone completely out of her depth.
Joan waited a little longer, listening for any sounds, but there were none besides the wind and rustling flora surrounding them. And so, after a deep breath, Joan lowered her head and made her way over the hill.
When she looked up again, the ruins were in sight. She slowed her pace as she approached.
Where once a simple sturdy grey building had stood, there now lay a pile of debris. Only the bottom sections of the buildings remained standing, jutting out from the ground like broken blades. Charred, splintered wood lay strewn about the grass, and large chunks of shattered stone formed crude boulders.
Surrounding the ruins, colorful blossoms grew in bright patches. Originally someone had suggested burying the bodies—at least the ones they’d been able to recover—there. But Joan had shuddered at the thought of forcing the experiment victims to rest eternally near the broken facility, so she’d requested they move them to Winrow’s graveyard instead. Thankfully people hadn’t questioned her, though the move in the burial site hadn’t stopped people from planting flowers around the area as a memorial.
Joan’s eyes scanned the ruins, finally landing on a single figure standing just in front of the collapsed building. Slowly, Joan approached until she was a few feet away, her footsteps crunching as she stepped over debris.
Amara’s back was turned to her. She didn’t move, simply standing there staring at the destruction before her. The wind blew her now short wavy hair against her neck, and her cloak billowed. The movement caught Joan’s eye, and she caught a glimpse of Amara’s hands hanging at her sides, balled into tight fists that shook barely perceptibly.
Joan opened her mouth and closed it, not knowing what to say. Hesitant, she took another step forward.
And then, all at once, the trembling stopped. Slowly, Amara’s fingers loosened, uncurling themselves until they hung limply at her sides. She raised her head, lifting her face towards the deep blue sky. Joan saw her whole body breathe as another wind blew past them, as though she was trying to fill her lungs with as much air as possible.
A few seconds passed, and Amara’s shoulders fell as she exhaled. Her head lowered back down to eye level, and slowly, she turned around.
Strands of hair lay strewn haphazardly against her face, mussed and twisted by the wind. Her posture was perfectly relaxed and casual, not a trace of tension in sight. The scars running up her arms seemed almost to move in the shifting shadows cast by her cloak. Her sharp eyes, a bright green that gleamed in the sunlight, were piercing.
But what caught Joan’s attention the most was her smile. It was bright, unreadable, and utterly unfamiliar.
“Joan,” Amara said, voice calm. “Let’s go back.”
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Chapter 6 - From the Ashes
Winrow, Vanstead Dukedom of Augustein, Year 991
She remembered the sounds of screaming. That day came to her in flashes of disjointed images and sensations. In one moment, there was the usual constant chill of the facility, and then in the next there was a burning heat spiraling outwards, climbing up the walls and dying the grey into red.
She remembered twisting shadows and contorted figures. Those magicians, distant and immoveable figures for so much of her life, collapsed to their knees and choked on smoke.
She remembered smaller figures writhing in the flames. A hand crushed beneath debris reaching towards her. A smoking corpse she couldn’t recognize.
She still wondered, sometimes, lying on the cot and staring up at the wooden ceiling, if it had been Tom or Ben. She would focus on the little details of the figure, laboring over the smoking limbs and the exact hunch of the shoulders. She never did know for certain.
She supposed it didn’t matter in the end.
—
Joan inhaled, tightening and loosening her grip on the tray of food she was carrying with her. Once she was done mentally preparing herself, she pushed back her shoulders, gripped the door handle, and turned it.
The door opened with a loud creak. Joan had decided to leave it unoiled on purpose; Amara never responded to knocks, so the least she could do was give a very obvious advance warning when she entered the room.
Joan plastered on a large smile, ignoring the numbness that had been growing on one side of her face, and stepped over to the figure seated on the bed. Amara didn’t even turn, her eyes fixed on the open window and the flowing curtains. It was a bright day, the towering white clouds drifting peacefully across a vast expanse of blue. The sight was particularly welcome after a week of non stop rain.
“Good morning,” Joan said in her most cheery voice. She set the tray down on a small table placed beside the cot. Slowly, Amara turned her head to stare at her. Joan swallowed.
Ever since Amara had woken up, she’d barely spoken or even acknowledged her surroundings. All her movements were dulled, as though she was wading through water, and Joan had yet to see any true reaction from her.
Even when she’d first quietly explained what had happened, that the building was gone and that there weren’t any other survivors, Amara had just listened quietly, perfectly still and unmoving. When Joan had finished speaking, all she’d said was, “Can I see the ruins?”
Joan hadn’t known how to respond to that. Part of her suspected she still hadn’t fully processed what had happened and seeing the destroyed building might provide closure, but she also had to be honest and tell Amara that she was in no condition to move. Amara hadn’t responded to that, but she would still ask, every now and then. Those were the only times she would speak without first being prompted. Besides that, she only ever answered in short, clipped sentences, never referring to Joan by name and never saying more than necessary.
When Joan had confided in Leila, the watchman had made a sympathetic noise and shaken her head. “Poor thing must be in shock,” she’d said.
It was the most obvious explanation and the one Joan had immediately jumped to as well. And yet, the longer she spent around her patient, the more she started to wonder if that initial assessment was wrong.
Despite how dulled her movements seemed and how little she spoke, Amara’s eyes never had the same look to them. Even when she stared off into the distance, there was a constant sharpness there, a hardness that seemed at odds with the rest of her behavior.
Even now, seated on the hospital cot, Amara studied her with that same uncanny perceptiveness, a gaze that always made Joan feel like she was being judged. She forced her own eyes to remain steady instead of darting away like her first instinct was. She briefly considered how absurd it was for her, a former Rose, to be intimidated by an injured patient who was probably half her age and barely old enough to no longer qualify as a “girl.”
Joan cleared her throat, the sound seeming to echo in the pervasive silence.
“How are you today?”
A silent stare was her only answer. Joan suppressed the urge to sigh, instead keeping her smile plastered on. She nodded at the tray of food and stood again.
“Well, if you need anything, I’ll be right there doing work.”
Some time after Amara had woken up, Joan had gotten some neighbors to help her move a table into the patient room so that she could keep an eye on her while working. Amara hadn’t voiced any complaints about it, and it made Joan a little less uneasy, so she’d stuck with the system.
Joan settled down in her seat, squinting down at the stack of letters. She didn’t start reading, however, until she heard the familiar clink of silverware as Amara finally ate. Her shoulders slumped in relief, and she leaned over the table and began to work, ignoring the sensation of eyes on her back as she did so.
—
“You’re healing well,” Joan commented as she carefully inspected an unwrapped wound. She was sure to move slowly and with deliberate gestures, not missing the way Amara’s eyes followed her hands whenever she checked her injuries.
As Joan moved on to the next bandage, she once again considered how lucky Amara was to have survived the explosion. Though she hadn’t seen the building collapse herself, a few of the onlookers had told her that it was sudden and violent. “What do you think happened?” one of them had asked. Joan had told him that she didn’t know. Truthfully she suspected it had been an experiment gone wrong, but she hadn’t wanted to reveal Amara’s secret. As far as the other villagers were concerned, the building was just a lone orphanage that had suffered an unfortunate accident.
“Can I see the ruins?”
Joan frowned. “Not yet,” she said slowly. “Not until all your bones are healed.”
When she looked up again, Amara had turned her head away and was staring at the sky again. Joan sighed and continued the check up.
—
A knock sounded from down the hallway. Joan set down the shirt she was patching and stood with a frown.
“I’ll be right back,” she said before rising and hurrying to the door.
When she opened it, she found not another patient, but Leila still in her watchman uniform. She blinked at the woman, eyes briefly darting over to the basket she was carrying, then back up.
“Leila, it’s good to see you. What’re you doing here?”
“I was patrolling around the area and thought I’d stop by. Here.” She raised her hand and passed the basket over. Joan took it and peered down at its contents. Inside, she found various ripe fruits, some bright flowers that Leila must’ve gotten fresh from the florist, and a small pouch that, when opened, contained an array of glinting coins. Joan’s eyes widened.
“Leila, you didn’t have to—”
“They’re from the watchmen,” the other woman interrupted. She smiled. “I told them I was stopping by and they pooled together some money to help out.”
A warm feeling rose in Joan’s chest. She swallowed, carefully closing the pouch again and setting it back inside the basket beside a bright yellow blossom. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Please tell them thank you for me.”
Leila reached out a gloved hand and patted her shoulder. “After all the times you’ve had to heal us, this is the least we could do,” she joked. She glanced behind Joan at the hallway and lowered her voice. “Speaking of which, how’s she doing?”
“She’s healing well,” Joan said. “I estimate she’ll be able to walk around within the month.”
“You really do work miracles.” Leila shook her head and stepped back. “I ought to get back on patrol. Remember, if you ever need anything, you can ask me.” With a wave, the woman turned around and walked away.
Joan watched her retreating back, shaking her head with fondness before moving to close the door. Basket carefully balanced in her hands, Joan made her way back down the hallway and to the patient room.
“I’m sorry about that, Amara,” she said as she stepped through the doorway. “Leila visited and—”
Joan’s voice cut off.
The cot where Amara usually sat was empty, the wrinkled sheets haphazardly pulled aside. Joan’s eyes darted frantically around the room, landing on her desk table, where her sewing box was overturned, its contents spilled across the table, chair, and wooden ground. Fabric strips, threads, pins, cushions of needles.
And there, a few feet away from the desk, she could just barely make out the top of a head poking out from behind the bed.
The basket fell to the floor.
“No no no—”
Joan didn’t think, immediately sprinting towards the back of the room, cursing herself for being so stupid. Am I too late?
“Amara!” Joan called, stumbling as she leapt onto the cot and peered over in dread, her heart pounding against her ribcage.
There, seated on the ground with her back supported by the bed, sat Amara. She turned her head to face her, and Joan saw that in one hand she held a gleaming pair of scissors and in the other, a thick bundle of wavy hair that lay half scattered across the ground, blown around by the wind billowing into the room.
“You’re back,” Amara observed. Her gaze was as sharp and perceptive as ever.
Joan’s eyes rapidly scanned her, but there were no new injuries to make note of. The only change was her hair, which had been cropped short so that it sat in an uneven line below her chin.
All at once, the tension bled away and Joan slumped down.
“You cut your hair,” she said weakly. Her head throbbed, and she absentmindedly rubbed at it.
“Yeah.”
Joan released a long breath and slowly straightened. She closed her eyes for a moment, calming her rapid heart rate. When she spoke, she forced her voice to remain as still and calm as possible, though she couldn’t entirely mask the slight tremor in her voice.
“Amara, the next time you want to cut your hair or—or do anything, please tell me first. Please.”
Amara stared at her, quiet for a long time. She shifted her position, and for the first time since she’d woken up, something in her eyes changed.
“Okay,” she said.
—
It was a windy day. Joan shivered and pulled her cloak closer, but she didn’t remove her gaze from the figure walking just beside her.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Joan asked. Amara just nodded, not even turning to look her way, and Joan sighed and shook her head. She faced forward as well, eyes following the dirt path and remembering the last time she’d walked along it.
The closer they got to the ruins, the more Joan’s unease grew.
Amara had continued to heal at a rapid pace, and when she’d first started being able to walk around on her own, she constantly did so, moving with a silent, steady determination. The end result of that persistence had led them to their current situation, on the road to the ruins, Amara with only a few bandages left on her skin and walking by herself, albeit a bit slowly, and Joan, whose eyes kept darting over, watching for any reaction.
As far as she could tell, there were none. Amara moved with remarkable calm, shoulders relaxed and eyes steady.
Joan exhaled and kept walking. Ever since the scissors incident, as Joan had dubbed it in her head, Amara had started speaking more. She was still mostly quiet, but she seemed a little more engaged, more interested in her surroundings. She’d even requested Joan teach her how to read, after Joan had given her a tour of her little home and shown her the library. When Amara was sitting there quietly, listening as Joan taught her basic letters and spelling, Joan could almost tell herself that she was just an ordinary, curious young woman if not for the array of scars on her skin. Joan had tried to heal them, but form magic couldn’t alter colors, and so the marks still lingered.
That near normalcy, however, was where the doubts had begun. Initially she’d assumed Amara wanted to see the ruins to give her closure so that she could move on, but what if it had the opposite effect? Joan wasn’t a fool, she knew Amara’s behavior was in no way normal. She had to be repressing things, or perhaps the truth hadn’t really settled yet. What if seeing the ruins caused her to break down?
The longer they walked, the more the doubts grew. Joan quickly became lost in her thoughts, so much so that she didn’t immediately notice when they stopped walking
“Which way?”
Joan blinked and looked up, seeing that they’d reached a familiar fork in the road. Her heart sank and she swallowed. “Left,” she said, voice hoarse. She cleared her throat. “It… it’s just past that hill.”
Amara nodded and turned without hesitation, slowly making her way up the slight incline in a steady rhythm. Another breeze blew past them, carrying scattered tree leaves with it. Joan watched Amara reach the hill top and begin descending until she’d disappeared from view.
Joan stared at the path, limbs suddenly heavy. She tightened her grip on her cloak.
“Get it together,” she muttered. There was no reason for her to be so nervous, she told herself. It was absurd, after all the things she’d already seen throughout her life. But Amara had an uncanny ability to make her feel like a lost child again, someone completely out of her depth.
Joan waited a little longer, listening for any sounds, but there were none besides the wind and rustling flora surrounding them. And so, after a deep breath, Joan lowered her head and made her way over the hill.
When she looked up again, the ruins were in sight. She slowed her pace as she approached.
Where once a simple sturdy grey building had stood, there now lay a pile of debris. Only the bottom sections of the buildings remained standing, jutting out from the ground like broken blades. Charred, splintered wood lay strewn about the grass, and large chunks of shattered stone formed crude boulders.
Surrounding the ruins, colorful blossoms grew in bright patches. Originally someone had suggested burying the bodies—at least the ones they’d been able to recover—there. But Joan had shuddered at the thought of forcing the experiment victims to rest eternally near the broken facility, so she’d requested they move them to Winrow’s graveyard instead. Thankfully people hadn’t questioned her, though the move in the burial site hadn’t stopped people from planting flowers around the area as a memorial.
Joan’s eyes scanned the ruins, finally landing on a single figure standing just in front of the collapsed building. Slowly, Joan approached until she was a few feet away, her footsteps crunching as she stepped over debris.
Amara’s back was turned to her. She didn’t move, simply standing there staring at the destruction before her. The wind blew her now short wavy hair against her neck, and her cloak billowed. The movement caught Joan’s eye, and she caught a glimpse of Amara’s hands hanging at her sides, balled into tight fists that shook barely perceptibly.
Joan opened her mouth and closed it, not knowing what to say. Hesitant, she took another step forward.
And then, all at once, the trembling stopped. Slowly, Amara’s fingers loosened, uncurling themselves until they hung limply at her sides. She raised her head, lifting her face towards the deep blue sky. Joan saw her whole body breathe as another wind blew past them, as though she was trying to fill her lungs with as much air as possible.
A few seconds passed, and Amara’s shoulders fell as she exhaled. Her head lowered back down to eye level, and slowly, she turned around.
Strands of hair lay strewn haphazardly against her face, mussed and twisted by the wind. Her posture was perfectly relaxed and casual, not a trace of tension in sight. The scars running up her arms seemed almost to move in the shifting shadows cast by her cloak. Her sharp eyes, a bright green that gleamed in the sunlight, were piercing.
But what caught Joan’s attention the most was her smile. It was bright, unreadable, and utterly unfamiliar.
“Joan,” Amara said, voice calm. “Let’s go back.”
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2023.06.05 02:24 bucket2thereturn How to wear pride at work without getting fired
I'd really like to wear some pride stuff at work this month, but I've already gotten a talking to from management for a pin that says "the Homo Depot". My plan is to next paint my nails rainbow, but I'd really love alternative suggestions that management can't make me take off in the middle of work. This is a hill I will die on. I'm alright getting fired or quitting if management is too stern, but I'd rather see if I can get them to back down first.
submitted by bucket2thereturn to lgbt [link] [comments]
2023.06.05 02:20 JohnWarrenDailey Full review of Prehistoric Planet
Follow-up to my last post:
An Attenborough documentary on dinosaurs with the same CGI that made The Jungle Book so lifelike? I couldn't think of a greater sell. But was it worth it? Would it give me the same sense of wonder that I felt when Walking with Dinosaurs came out 22 years earlier?
The first episode, "Coasts", is overall the strongest episode of season 1. Starting immediately with a swimming t-rex (Tyrannosaurus rex) leading his children to an island where he smelled a dead archelon (species unknown, as no Maastrichtian-age archelon was ever found in the fossil record), that first scene showed the promise of the show as a whole. Seeing CG baby t-rexes interacting with live-action baby turtles is both concerning (as sea turtles are currently endangered) and entertaining, as they are demonstrated pretty goofily. But after that, we are done with dinosaurs for the rest of the episode.
We cut to the one scene that, while endearing with a riveting soundtrack by power couple Anže Rozman and Kara Talve, does give me pause. The pterosaurs featured in that episode were based on bones so fragmentary that they couldn't be diagnosed. How can we be sure that Barbaridactylus was a member of the antlerwing family, Phosphatodraco a member of the simurgh family, or even Tethydraco a member of the pteranodon family? How do we even know what Alcione even looked like? Also, the score doesn't really match the slower, less urgent movements of the pterosaurs.
The next scene was described as "the sunken continent of Zealandia", which is a refresher to see the lost continent bearing recognition for a change. Here, a family of plesiosaurs (Tuarangisaurus keyesi) comes to the coast to gulp themselves on anti-buoyant rocks, while the males ceremoniously poke their long, heavy necks up to the surface, the only good moment in an otherwise generic sequence.
After a quick focus on coral, we get treated to a Hoffmann's mosasaur (Mosasaurus hoffmanni) relying on fish and shrimp to give him a good, proper scratch, only to be pushed out of turn by a younger male. This sequence sticks out to me because it shows mosasaurs being portrayed as animals, not as monsters to shadow Nigel Marven or kaijuified Blackfish bootlegs.
The next scene shows a dazzling, mesmerizing mating ceremony of ammonites ("scaphitids", they were called, but that doesn't determine specific species, as it was a very huge family). They glow in the dark and mate very particularly. If the male's flashes don't sync with those of the female, he'd be rejected. Complimenting this alien but still soothing scene is Rozman and Talve's equally alien and soothing score.
Back in Zealandia, we end with plesiosaur pod mentality, as the whole group defends a pregnant mother from a kaika taniwha (Kaikaifilu hervei). As with the previous plesiosaur scene, it wasn't a scene that I got too crazy about.
The next episode, "Deserts", isn't really as impactful as the Planet Earth episode of the same name, both in regards to execution and the musical score, and it was riddled with confusing scene decisions. The first scene demonstrates a lek of dreadnoughts (Dreadnoughtus schrani) acting like a combination of elephant seals and frigatebirds, right down to the pops on their necks. The score in that sequence is definitely memorable, as it (literally) highlights the weights that the males take to demonstrate their fitness to attract the gaggle of girls in the audience. Though I'm left wondering--did the upstart beat the veteran because he was stronger, or because he popped one of the veteran's neck balloons, as male frigatebirds would do to ditch the competish?
Once the sauropod show is over, we now move to what was presumed to be Nemegtia, but it was portrayed to be as dry as Djadochta, which leads to the next problem. While there was evidence of Maastrichtian-age velos in Central Asia, calling them "Velociraptor" is just wrong. I grew up watching Walking with Dinosaurs, which means I watched "Giant of the Skies", which featured Utahraptor in the wrong place at the wrong time. And while the American cut justifies this with a demonstration of a land bridge that connected North America to Europe, I don't know how much water that holds, and that doesn't seem to be relevant anyway, for the damage has already been done. So having in Velociraptor, a genus of velos that went extinct 71 million years ago, in Nemegtia, which was set 66 million years ago, is just a rehash of that previous mistake. In short, Prehistoric Planet has Utahraptor'd the Velociraptor. And besides, hasn't the picture of pack-hunting raptors already been discarded?
The next scene, the one with the Nemegtian mononych (Mononykus olecranus), is cute but not top-notch memorable, and its color choice is teetering way close to the point of plagiarism.
Afterwards, the brief but violent rains have created a watering hole in the middle of the desert, luring in dinosaurs and pterosaurs from miles around, including a wandering khan (Tarbosaurus bataar). The reason that scene is so low was that it was just a near-identical rotoscope of the Water Truce sequence from The Jungle Book, right down to the herbivores making a clearing for the khan.
Then we go high up to see more Barbaridactylus. This scene I wasn't aware was a problem until Unnatural History Channel brought it up in his video, but the females were shown to be oddly consensual towards the similar-looking sneaky males, who use their feminine appearances to sneak past the larger, more impressive males. This is a problem, apparently, because the more extreme the sexual dimorphism, the more likely the sneaky male will be rejected and therefore resort to assaulting the females.
The last scene is an interesting one, albeit one that suffered an unmemorable score in the soundtrack. Apparently, salty southern duckbills (Secernosaurus koerneri) can thrive on dunes of gypsum, but when rains hit the coast, they rely on both their tenacity and their know-how of the sky to get to more productive grazing. This scene stands out to me because I question why any large animal would choose to thrive on such a taxing environment. It'd make sense for an animal as small as the cryptile, the scrofa and the gryken from The Future is Wild, but not for a duckbill bigger than 16 feet long.
It is unanimously agreed upon that "Freshwater" is the weakest episode in the first season. Apart from the humpbacked false duckbill (Deinocheirus mirificus) getting a scratch in the swamps of a more accurate Nemegtia and the devil frog (Beelzebufo ampinga) making a snack out of a baby whacktooth (Masiaksaurus knoplferi), the habitat itself has been relegated to the backseat, which is why the mating scene of the t-rex and the laying magnificent simurgh (Quetzalcoatlus northropi) are on the C tier, good scenes that have been damaged by simply being in the wrong episode. Speaking of the latter, memes have popped up in which the faces of dinosaurs have been pasted over two shots of Monty Python and the Holy Grail, with either Masiakasaurus or the Planet Dinosaur model of Majungasaurus being Galahad and the Quetzalcoatlus being the French taunter ("What are you doing in Africa?" "MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS!") when, really, that meme is more applicable to Velociraptor being in the Maastrichtian. On that topic, not only is it STILL in the wrong time, there is another problem, one I didn't pay attention to until Unnatural History Channel brought it up on his video. Instead of showing audiences raptor prey restraint (or "RPR"), the storytellers relied instead on mountain cats to show the velos hunting the pterosaurs (species unknown). Like the Deserts episode, Planet Earth has a far stronger "Freshwater" episode.
"Ice Worlds" didn't excite me as much as "Spirits of the Ice Forest" did, which is a shame, because dinosaurs in the snow is a refresher by default. We start at Prince Creek, which I couldn't ask for a worse place to start because the cast list is very fragmentary. In the opening scene, a pack of raptors (species unknown, though modeled after the pitbull raptor), shadows a herd of ugrunaaluk (Edmontosaurus sp.) for a long-delayed meal. Again, the picture of raptors hunting in packs has been debunked for a very long time now. Why insist on resorting to old cliches?
The Ornithomimus scene (can't think of a vernacular for them), while the designs look cool and add distinction to overall character, is still just a rotoscope of the Adelie penguin sequence from "Frozen Planet". Next.
The sequence with the swanneck (Olorotitan arharensis) is even less impressive. Are horsetails really more nutritious than grass? If so, then why have grasslands been the dominant plains since the Miocene?
The reason the scene with the tro-o is relatively low on the tier list is that it should have been longer, because a dinosaur with the intellect of a fire hawk is a very interesting prospect. But the final scene was just too short and too bland to show off any real gold.
We have spent so much time in the north that I question the necessity of a quick detour to Antarctica, rendering the scene with the polar macahutiul (Antarctopelta oliveroi) my least favorite of the series.
The final scene demonstrates the predator-prey dynamic between the northern boss (Pachyrhinosaurus perotorum) and the nanook (Nanuqsaurus hoglundi). The scene is great, the score has some very rhythmic moments, but what puts it low on the B tier are the nanooks themselves. From a distance, they look as good as most of the others. But in closeup, they look kind of fake, especially when they're running. Which brings up to the next problem--the story is based on fossil footprints of different lines pointing in the same direction. But how do we know that those parallel tracks were made at the same time and not separated within hours, days or even weeks of each other? And while it is true that nanooks were smaller than t-rexes, their portrayals in the show were just too small. More recent consensus shows that one nanook could easily match a boss in size, if not overtop it.
"Forests" is an everywhere kind of episode. The opening scene with the austroposeidon (Austroposeidon magnificus) is not long enough to get me invested.
Then a herd of trikes (Triceratops, species unknown) visits a cave to visit a clay lick to neutralize the poisons from their plant food. But why clay? Why not salt? Herbivores can clearly deal with poisonous plants without problem, but plants lack sodium, which is why the elephants of Mount Elgon (the inspiration behind that scene) scrape the caves not for clay, but for salt.
This next scene has gotten everyone talking. A male minotaur (Carnotaurus sastrei) clears the stage to wave his arms around to impress an impossibly stoic female. Everything about that scene--from the choreography to the score--is very goofy, and that is what makes it work so well.
While it is nice to finally see the Pinocchio-rex (Qianzhousaurus sinensis) in the flesh, its hunt for bright blue corythoraptors (Corythoraptor jacobsi) is not a scene I'd be in a hurry to revisit.
The fire scene is oddly slow, the only memorable moment in the whole sequence being my first official introduction to Atrociraptor marshalli...literally just one short week before Jurassic World: Dominion predictably ruined it.
The scene with the baby Therizinosaurus is passable. While it is cute to imagine babies having a taste for honey, it just wasn't executed memorably.
The final scene, the one set on Hateg Island, slogs on in pace, with the greatest focus being a bunch of odd-looking baby zalmos (Zalmoxes robustus) running and hiding from the real star of the episode, the robust simurgh (Hatzegopteryx thambena), looking more proper than how it looked in Planet Dinosaur. One question, though--weren't pterosaur wings supposed to be rounded at the tip? Sure, they've got the hands pointing backwards, but the pointed wingtips is now believed to be an outdated picture.
So it goes without saying that years of watching a moderate quantity of Attenborough documentaries has made the watching experience of Prehistoric Planet, at least in comparison to the original Walking with Dinosaurs, a bit numb. The creature designs are good, the CGI has not faltered in its photorealism from The Jungle Book, and even the soundtrack has enough of a score to make it memorable. But it's the stories that amount to the overall numbness of the first season. They hadn't opened my eyes in the way that Walking with Dinosaurs did.
When season 2 was announced literally one year after season 1, I had my doubts. Planet Earth 2 came out literally a decade after the first Planet Earth, and the differences in filming technology and musical score clearly show that. Same for the 16 years that separate The Blue Planet from Blue Planet 2. Dynasties 2, by contrast, came way too soon after the first Dynasties, and the end result is sloppy, from the stories being set at the tedious start rather than at the steady prime to the score from the first Dynasties being reused so often that the only episode to have any new music was "Meerkat". So to find Prehistoric Planet 2 come out literally one year after Prehistoric Planet, I was concerned that it'd be as shorthanded as Dynasties 2 was. The opening episode, "Islands", kind of suffered that, but it thankfully wasn't as severe a problem.
The first segment of that episode struck me as odd because the adult zalmo looks weirdly identical to the baby model from last episode.
While it is cool to see the robust simurgh being expanded upon, I personally wish we'd stayed at Hateg Island, where they'd hunt the Transylvanian dwarf duckbill (Telmatosaurus transylvanicus) and not the funky combbill (Tethyshadros insularis).
One of season 1's most recurring complaints is "no crocodiles", which is pretty apt when you consider how diverse they were during the Cretaceous period. So to see the Malagasy armadillo (Simosuchus clarki) at all, let alone stand up against a mahjong (Majungasaurus crenatissimus), is one to remember for the ages.
This next scene is actually pretty interesting, in which we see Adalatherium, which wasn't a true mammal, but rather something hovering closely outside the taxonomic boundaries. It's a long sequence, which is just as well, because this is as new a clade to me now as the cynodont was when Walking with Dinosaurs came out.
As with in "Ice Worlds", a quick detour to Antarctica doesn't seem necessary to me, as the hunt between the Imperobator and the Morrosaurus feels more like a skim.
The last scene in the episode is my personal favorite, in which a male robust simugh stands on a sandbar to do whatever it takes to impress a mate.
"Badlands" stands out in that there are only two settings. The first one is the strongest because of how the Deccan Traps, long reputed to be the co-culprit to the fall of the dinosaur empire, has been repurposed into prime nesting estate for a herd of sauropods (Isisaurus colberti). The journey seems reckless, but volcanic sand is hot and toasty, something that a modern species of dinosaur, the megapode, also exploits as it lays its egg in the hot volcanic sand of the Solomons.
The next scene hasn't fixed on last year's problems, in which Velociraptor is still there and it still hasn't performed RPR--it just kicks an herbivore off a cliff, and that was that.
The nesting Corythoraptor scene didn't interest me, but what really bugged me was that the antagonist of that sequence was a kuru (Kuru kulla), a raptor who, like the pterosaurs on the "Coasts" episode, was based on incomplete, fragmentary specimens.
The sequence with the tarchias (Tarchia, species unknown), is a refreshing detour from the previous sequence because we have a better idea as to what they would have looked like. And to see them slog around for an oasis is a second highlight (next to the Deccan nursery).
This next scene has nothing new added from either "Time of the Titans" or "Alpha's Egg", in which a herd of baby sauropods gets picked on by larger predators on their way to the safety of the forest.
The majority of the "Freshwater" sequences I feel fit better in "Swamps". The same unnamed pterosaurs from "Freshwater" have reappeared, this time trying to fly past an approaching population of alligators (Shamosuchus djadochtaensis).
The next episode features a grizzly bear gathering of austroraptors (Austroraptor cabazai) hunting gar. It stands out as highly as it does because it shows a species of raptor that looks and acts differently from the usual velo or nych. Plus, we know many miles more about austroraptors than we do about Spinosaurus, so that is a relieving plus.
The devil frog stands out in this episode, and to see a grumpy male try to fight off a herd of goavambe (Rapetosaurus krausei) is humorous. It also deviates from the usual picture of "the frog that eats dinosaurs".
This next sequence I was very concerned the moment I saw it in the ads. Thanks to Jack Horner, the poorly-known family Pachycephalosauridae has been under very hot fire with the notion of bone sponginess being a taxonomically viable method of identification, which it really isn't because all amniotes have spongy bones in their teens. But very thankfully, this sequence does not resort to Hornerism. It shows that older males do get longer horns on the backs of their heads, not the other way around. Also, new evidence has shown that the domes may have been covered in shiny skin, so this has me asking--is the dome a boys-only trait? Could that dracorex (Pachycephalosaurus hogwartsia) skull that I saw at the Black Hills Museum just be a girl entering her sweet 16 when she died? Could those stygimoloch (Pachycephalosaurus spinifer) skulls just be those of high school footballers?
"Swamps" ended on a high note with a couple of t-rexes hunting an anatotitan (Edmontosaurus annectens) in the dark. One just walks to the duckbill, and the animal, in its panic, goes right in the direction of the other t-rex in hiding. This perfectly reflects the current understanding that t-rexes exchanged fast running for better walking. Now can we see some duckbills fighting back, please?
On May 26, The Little Mermaid came out in theaters. A day earlier, "Oceans" came out. If I were to choose, I'd stick to the latter, simply because we're treated to fresh new stories with a wider variety of mosasaurs and ammonites than any of the Walking with programs ever did. The scene with the hesperorns chasing bait fish only to have themselves be chased by bulldog fish (Xiphactinus) is a classic, but a good one. However, "X-fish"? What's wrong with "bulldog fish"? But the highlight, no doubt, is the final sequence, in which a Hoffmann's mosasaur killed a juvenile plesiosaur simply by ramming it great white style.
"Freshwater" was weak due to being sorely unfocused. "North America", by contrast, is even weaker for being too rushed. Also, the "scars make the man" narrative with the trikes bugs me the most. What justification is there for that?
This has been a very exhaustive review of Prehistoric Planet, and it's way too early for me to worry about a season 3 coming out, if there is going to be one.
submitted by JohnWarrenDailey to Dinosaurs [link] [comments]
An Attenborough documentary on dinosaurs with the same CGI that made The Jungle Book so lifelike? I couldn't think of a greater sell. But was it worth it? Would it give me the same sense of wonder that I felt when Walking with Dinosaurs came out 22 years earlier?
The first episode, "Coasts", is overall the strongest episode of season 1. Starting immediately with a swimming t-rex (Tyrannosaurus rex) leading his children to an island where he smelled a dead archelon (species unknown, as no Maastrichtian-age archelon was ever found in the fossil record), that first scene showed the promise of the show as a whole. Seeing CG baby t-rexes interacting with live-action baby turtles is both concerning (as sea turtles are currently endangered) and entertaining, as they are demonstrated pretty goofily. But after that, we are done with dinosaurs for the rest of the episode.
We cut to the one scene that, while endearing with a riveting soundtrack by power couple Anže Rozman and Kara Talve, does give me pause. The pterosaurs featured in that episode were based on bones so fragmentary that they couldn't be diagnosed. How can we be sure that Barbaridactylus was a member of the antlerwing family, Phosphatodraco a member of the simurgh family, or even Tethydraco a member of the pteranodon family? How do we even know what Alcione even looked like? Also, the score doesn't really match the slower, less urgent movements of the pterosaurs.
The next scene was described as "the sunken continent of Zealandia", which is a refresher to see the lost continent bearing recognition for a change. Here, a family of plesiosaurs (Tuarangisaurus keyesi) comes to the coast to gulp themselves on anti-buoyant rocks, while the males ceremoniously poke their long, heavy necks up to the surface, the only good moment in an otherwise generic sequence.
After a quick focus on coral, we get treated to a Hoffmann's mosasaur (Mosasaurus hoffmanni) relying on fish and shrimp to give him a good, proper scratch, only to be pushed out of turn by a younger male. This sequence sticks out to me because it shows mosasaurs being portrayed as animals, not as monsters to shadow Nigel Marven or kaijuified Blackfish bootlegs.
The next scene shows a dazzling, mesmerizing mating ceremony of ammonites ("scaphitids", they were called, but that doesn't determine specific species, as it was a very huge family). They glow in the dark and mate very particularly. If the male's flashes don't sync with those of the female, he'd be rejected. Complimenting this alien but still soothing scene is Rozman and Talve's equally alien and soothing score.
Back in Zealandia, we end with plesiosaur pod mentality, as the whole group defends a pregnant mother from a kaika taniwha (Kaikaifilu hervei). As with the previous plesiosaur scene, it wasn't a scene that I got too crazy about.
The next episode, "Deserts", isn't really as impactful as the Planet Earth episode of the same name, both in regards to execution and the musical score, and it was riddled with confusing scene decisions. The first scene demonstrates a lek of dreadnoughts (Dreadnoughtus schrani) acting like a combination of elephant seals and frigatebirds, right down to the pops on their necks. The score in that sequence is definitely memorable, as it (literally) highlights the weights that the males take to demonstrate their fitness to attract the gaggle of girls in the audience. Though I'm left wondering--did the upstart beat the veteran because he was stronger, or because he popped one of the veteran's neck balloons, as male frigatebirds would do to ditch the competish?
Once the sauropod show is over, we now move to what was presumed to be Nemegtia, but it was portrayed to be as dry as Djadochta, which leads to the next problem. While there was evidence of Maastrichtian-age velos in Central Asia, calling them "Velociraptor" is just wrong. I grew up watching Walking with Dinosaurs, which means I watched "Giant of the Skies", which featured Utahraptor in the wrong place at the wrong time. And while the American cut justifies this with a demonstration of a land bridge that connected North America to Europe, I don't know how much water that holds, and that doesn't seem to be relevant anyway, for the damage has already been done. So having in Velociraptor, a genus of velos that went extinct 71 million years ago, in Nemegtia, which was set 66 million years ago, is just a rehash of that previous mistake. In short, Prehistoric Planet has Utahraptor'd the Velociraptor. And besides, hasn't the picture of pack-hunting raptors already been discarded?
The next scene, the one with the Nemegtian mononych (Mononykus olecranus), is cute but not top-notch memorable, and its color choice is teetering way close to the point of plagiarism.
Afterwards, the brief but violent rains have created a watering hole in the middle of the desert, luring in dinosaurs and pterosaurs from miles around, including a wandering khan (Tarbosaurus bataar). The reason that scene is so low was that it was just a near-identical rotoscope of the Water Truce sequence from The Jungle Book, right down to the herbivores making a clearing for the khan.
Then we go high up to see more Barbaridactylus. This scene I wasn't aware was a problem until Unnatural History Channel brought it up in his video, but the females were shown to be oddly consensual towards the similar-looking sneaky males, who use their feminine appearances to sneak past the larger, more impressive males. This is a problem, apparently, because the more extreme the sexual dimorphism, the more likely the sneaky male will be rejected and therefore resort to assaulting the females.
The last scene is an interesting one, albeit one that suffered an unmemorable score in the soundtrack. Apparently, salty southern duckbills (Secernosaurus koerneri) can thrive on dunes of gypsum, but when rains hit the coast, they rely on both their tenacity and their know-how of the sky to get to more productive grazing. This scene stands out to me because I question why any large animal would choose to thrive on such a taxing environment. It'd make sense for an animal as small as the cryptile, the scrofa and the gryken from The Future is Wild, but not for a duckbill bigger than 16 feet long.
It is unanimously agreed upon that "Freshwater" is the weakest episode in the first season. Apart from the humpbacked false duckbill (Deinocheirus mirificus) getting a scratch in the swamps of a more accurate Nemegtia and the devil frog (Beelzebufo ampinga) making a snack out of a baby whacktooth (Masiaksaurus knoplferi), the habitat itself has been relegated to the backseat, which is why the mating scene of the t-rex and the laying magnificent simurgh (Quetzalcoatlus northropi) are on the C tier, good scenes that have been damaged by simply being in the wrong episode. Speaking of the latter, memes have popped up in which the faces of dinosaurs have been pasted over two shots of Monty Python and the Holy Grail, with either Masiakasaurus or the Planet Dinosaur model of Majungasaurus being Galahad and the Quetzalcoatlus being the French taunter ("What are you doing in Africa?" "MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS!") when, really, that meme is more applicable to Velociraptor being in the Maastrichtian. On that topic, not only is it STILL in the wrong time, there is another problem, one I didn't pay attention to until Unnatural History Channel brought it up on his video. Instead of showing audiences raptor prey restraint (or "RPR"), the storytellers relied instead on mountain cats to show the velos hunting the pterosaurs (species unknown). Like the Deserts episode, Planet Earth has a far stronger "Freshwater" episode.
"Ice Worlds" didn't excite me as much as "Spirits of the Ice Forest" did, which is a shame, because dinosaurs in the snow is a refresher by default. We start at Prince Creek, which I couldn't ask for a worse place to start because the cast list is very fragmentary. In the opening scene, a pack of raptors (species unknown, though modeled after the pitbull raptor), shadows a herd of ugrunaaluk (Edmontosaurus sp.) for a long-delayed meal. Again, the picture of raptors hunting in packs has been debunked for a very long time now. Why insist on resorting to old cliches?
The Ornithomimus scene (can't think of a vernacular for them), while the designs look cool and add distinction to overall character, is still just a rotoscope of the Adelie penguin sequence from "Frozen Planet". Next.
The sequence with the swanneck (Olorotitan arharensis) is even less impressive. Are horsetails really more nutritious than grass? If so, then why have grasslands been the dominant plains since the Miocene?
The reason the scene with the tro-o is relatively low on the tier list is that it should have been longer, because a dinosaur with the intellect of a fire hawk is a very interesting prospect. But the final scene was just too short and too bland to show off any real gold.
We have spent so much time in the north that I question the necessity of a quick detour to Antarctica, rendering the scene with the polar macahutiul (Antarctopelta oliveroi) my least favorite of the series.
The final scene demonstrates the predator-prey dynamic between the northern boss (Pachyrhinosaurus perotorum) and the nanook (Nanuqsaurus hoglundi). The scene is great, the score has some very rhythmic moments, but what puts it low on the B tier are the nanooks themselves. From a distance, they look as good as most of the others. But in closeup, they look kind of fake, especially when they're running. Which brings up to the next problem--the story is based on fossil footprints of different lines pointing in the same direction. But how do we know that those parallel tracks were made at the same time and not separated within hours, days or even weeks of each other? And while it is true that nanooks were smaller than t-rexes, their portrayals in the show were just too small. More recent consensus shows that one nanook could easily match a boss in size, if not overtop it.
"Forests" is an everywhere kind of episode. The opening scene with the austroposeidon (Austroposeidon magnificus) is not long enough to get me invested.
Then a herd of trikes (Triceratops, species unknown) visits a cave to visit a clay lick to neutralize the poisons from their plant food. But why clay? Why not salt? Herbivores can clearly deal with poisonous plants without problem, but plants lack sodium, which is why the elephants of Mount Elgon (the inspiration behind that scene) scrape the caves not for clay, but for salt.
This next scene has gotten everyone talking. A male minotaur (Carnotaurus sastrei) clears the stage to wave his arms around to impress an impossibly stoic female. Everything about that scene--from the choreography to the score--is very goofy, and that is what makes it work so well.
While it is nice to finally see the Pinocchio-rex (Qianzhousaurus sinensis) in the flesh, its hunt for bright blue corythoraptors (Corythoraptor jacobsi) is not a scene I'd be in a hurry to revisit.
The fire scene is oddly slow, the only memorable moment in the whole sequence being my first official introduction to Atrociraptor marshalli...literally just one short week before Jurassic World: Dominion predictably ruined it.
The scene with the baby Therizinosaurus is passable. While it is cute to imagine babies having a taste for honey, it just wasn't executed memorably.
The final scene, the one set on Hateg Island, slogs on in pace, with the greatest focus being a bunch of odd-looking baby zalmos (Zalmoxes robustus) running and hiding from the real star of the episode, the robust simurgh (Hatzegopteryx thambena), looking more proper than how it looked in Planet Dinosaur. One question, though--weren't pterosaur wings supposed to be rounded at the tip? Sure, they've got the hands pointing backwards, but the pointed wingtips is now believed to be an outdated picture.
So it goes without saying that years of watching a moderate quantity of Attenborough documentaries has made the watching experience of Prehistoric Planet, at least in comparison to the original Walking with Dinosaurs, a bit numb. The creature designs are good, the CGI has not faltered in its photorealism from The Jungle Book, and even the soundtrack has enough of a score to make it memorable. But it's the stories that amount to the overall numbness of the first season. They hadn't opened my eyes in the way that Walking with Dinosaurs did.
When season 2 was announced literally one year after season 1, I had my doubts. Planet Earth 2 came out literally a decade after the first Planet Earth, and the differences in filming technology and musical score clearly show that. Same for the 16 years that separate The Blue Planet from Blue Planet 2. Dynasties 2, by contrast, came way too soon after the first Dynasties, and the end result is sloppy, from the stories being set at the tedious start rather than at the steady prime to the score from the first Dynasties being reused so often that the only episode to have any new music was "Meerkat". So to find Prehistoric Planet 2 come out literally one year after Prehistoric Planet, I was concerned that it'd be as shorthanded as Dynasties 2 was. The opening episode, "Islands", kind of suffered that, but it thankfully wasn't as severe a problem.
The first segment of that episode struck me as odd because the adult zalmo looks weirdly identical to the baby model from last episode.
While it is cool to see the robust simurgh being expanded upon, I personally wish we'd stayed at Hateg Island, where they'd hunt the Transylvanian dwarf duckbill (Telmatosaurus transylvanicus) and not the funky combbill (Tethyshadros insularis).
One of season 1's most recurring complaints is "no crocodiles", which is pretty apt when you consider how diverse they were during the Cretaceous period. So to see the Malagasy armadillo (Simosuchus clarki) at all, let alone stand up against a mahjong (Majungasaurus crenatissimus), is one to remember for the ages.
This next scene is actually pretty interesting, in which we see Adalatherium, which wasn't a true mammal, but rather something hovering closely outside the taxonomic boundaries. It's a long sequence, which is just as well, because this is as new a clade to me now as the cynodont was when Walking with Dinosaurs came out.
As with in "Ice Worlds", a quick detour to Antarctica doesn't seem necessary to me, as the hunt between the Imperobator and the Morrosaurus feels more like a skim.
The last scene in the episode is my personal favorite, in which a male robust simugh stands on a sandbar to do whatever it takes to impress a mate.
"Badlands" stands out in that there are only two settings. The first one is the strongest because of how the Deccan Traps, long reputed to be the co-culprit to the fall of the dinosaur empire, has been repurposed into prime nesting estate for a herd of sauropods (Isisaurus colberti). The journey seems reckless, but volcanic sand is hot and toasty, something that a modern species of dinosaur, the megapode, also exploits as it lays its egg in the hot volcanic sand of the Solomons.
The next scene hasn't fixed on last year's problems, in which Velociraptor is still there and it still hasn't performed RPR--it just kicks an herbivore off a cliff, and that was that.
The nesting Corythoraptor scene didn't interest me, but what really bugged me was that the antagonist of that sequence was a kuru (Kuru kulla), a raptor who, like the pterosaurs on the "Coasts" episode, was based on incomplete, fragmentary specimens.
The sequence with the tarchias (Tarchia, species unknown), is a refreshing detour from the previous sequence because we have a better idea as to what they would have looked like. And to see them slog around for an oasis is a second highlight (next to the Deccan nursery).
This next scene has nothing new added from either "Time of the Titans" or "Alpha's Egg", in which a herd of baby sauropods gets picked on by larger predators on their way to the safety of the forest.
The majority of the "Freshwater" sequences I feel fit better in "Swamps". The same unnamed pterosaurs from "Freshwater" have reappeared, this time trying to fly past an approaching population of alligators (Shamosuchus djadochtaensis).
The next episode features a grizzly bear gathering of austroraptors (Austroraptor cabazai) hunting gar. It stands out as highly as it does because it shows a species of raptor that looks and acts differently from the usual velo or nych. Plus, we know many miles more about austroraptors than we do about Spinosaurus, so that is a relieving plus.
The devil frog stands out in this episode, and to see a grumpy male try to fight off a herd of goavambe (Rapetosaurus krausei) is humorous. It also deviates from the usual picture of "the frog that eats dinosaurs".
This next sequence I was very concerned the moment I saw it in the ads. Thanks to Jack Horner, the poorly-known family Pachycephalosauridae has been under very hot fire with the notion of bone sponginess being a taxonomically viable method of identification, which it really isn't because all amniotes have spongy bones in their teens. But very thankfully, this sequence does not resort to Hornerism. It shows that older males do get longer horns on the backs of their heads, not the other way around. Also, new evidence has shown that the domes may have been covered in shiny skin, so this has me asking--is the dome a boys-only trait? Could that dracorex (Pachycephalosaurus hogwartsia) skull that I saw at the Black Hills Museum just be a girl entering her sweet 16 when she died? Could those stygimoloch (Pachycephalosaurus spinifer) skulls just be those of high school footballers?
"Swamps" ended on a high note with a couple of t-rexes hunting an anatotitan (Edmontosaurus annectens) in the dark. One just walks to the duckbill, and the animal, in its panic, goes right in the direction of the other t-rex in hiding. This perfectly reflects the current understanding that t-rexes exchanged fast running for better walking. Now can we see some duckbills fighting back, please?
On May 26, The Little Mermaid came out in theaters. A day earlier, "Oceans" came out. If I were to choose, I'd stick to the latter, simply because we're treated to fresh new stories with a wider variety of mosasaurs and ammonites than any of the Walking with programs ever did. The scene with the hesperorns chasing bait fish only to have themselves be chased by bulldog fish (Xiphactinus) is a classic, but a good one. However, "X-fish"? What's wrong with "bulldog fish"? But the highlight, no doubt, is the final sequence, in which a Hoffmann's mosasaur killed a juvenile plesiosaur simply by ramming it great white style.
"Freshwater" was weak due to being sorely unfocused. "North America", by contrast, is even weaker for being too rushed. Also, the "scars make the man" narrative with the trikes bugs me the most. What justification is there for that?
This has been a very exhaustive review of Prehistoric Planet, and it's way too early for me to worry about a season 3 coming out, if there is going to be one.